《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 19

This passage comes from Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's commentary in The Comprehensive Commentary on the Profound Virtue of the Dao De Jing, which primarily discusses the consequences of two behavioral approaches: "boldness" versus "restraint."

The scripture first points out that those who act with reckless impulsiveness (勇於敢) often invite fatal misfortune. Here, "daring" refers to bold actions taken without considering consequences. Conversely, those who practice humble yielding (勇於不敢) can preserve their lives. Emperor Xuanzong explains in his commentary that the strong and domineering, lacking fear and abandoning the virtues of gentleness and flexibility, ultimately tread the path of rebellion—this is why they court self-destruction.

Historical anecdotes illustrate this principle: The Red Emperor (referring to Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang) thrived by aligning with the celestial timing to establish the Han dynasty, while Lord Bai (referring to Bai Gong Sheng of Chu) brought disaster to Chu through his rebellion. Just as summer thunder and autumn geese follow seasonal rhythms, humans too should conform to the Dao of heaven. The movement of heaven and earth follows its own patterns—the sun, moon, stars, mountains, and rivers all operate according to their inherent laws. To defy these natural principles is like rotten soil attempting to support a towering mountain; collapse is inevitable.

True sages and enlightened rulers understand that humility and pliancy are the paths to longevity. Though the Dao of heaven appears vast and tolerant, its retribution for good and evil never errs. Thus, the scripture admonishes against contentious aggression, urging instead the wisdom of timely yielding—this is the way of harmonious existence in alignment with celestial principles.

This passage comes from chapter 76 of the Daodejing and commentaries from later generations. It discusses two attitudes, “daring” and “not daring,” and Heaven’s Way of disliking the forceful and overbearing.

The general meaning of the scripture

“Courage in daring leads to death; courage in not daring leads to life.” If a person acts forcefully in every situation, rushes ahead, and dares to do anything, they often harm themselves and lose their life. If they can remain still, restrain themselves, and know when to yield, choosing not to act forcefully or invite danger, they follow the way of preserving their life. Hence, “courage in not daring leads to life.”

Commentary by Heshang Gong: “Courage in daring leads to death” means that acting recklessly and forcing one’s way forward harms oneself. “Courage in not daring leads to life” means that the courage to keep to one’s proper bounds and avoid reckless action preserves the body.

Commentary by Rong: Not being afraid is courage; resoluteness of heart is daring. Facing a drawn sword and accepting death as though returning home is the courage of a hero. But if a person lacks strategic wisdom and heroic strength, and advances only out of greed for profit, they will surely lose their life—hence “leads to death.” To refuse to contend for profit out of a sense of justice, to act with compassion out of benevolence, or to win people over through the Dao and De, or subdue things through wise strategy, is to harm nothing and preserve oneself—hence “leads to life.” Greed for sights and sounds within harms the body; refusing to follow the pull of worldly desires preserves one’s life.

Cheng’s subcommentary: “Courage” means pressing forward boldly; “daring” means acting decisively. “Death” means dying and perishing; “life” means longevity. A decisive drive to advance, joined with attachment to worldly affairs, leads to death. A drive to advance that is empty and detached, unwilling to become greedy or entangled, leads to longevity.

Knowing these two, one may bring benefit or harm

Commentary by the Emperor: “Knowing these two, one may bring benefit or harm” means that daring and not daring may sometimes seem alike, yet their outcomes bring either benefit or harm. If one understands that “not daring” brings benefit and “daring” brings harm, one should have the courage not to dare. Those who are always “daring” invite disaster whenever they act. Heaven disapproves of them, but who can know the reason?

Subcommentary by the Emperor: The two refer to daring and not daring. If people understand that daring courage leads to death and harm, while not daring leads to life and benefit, they must have the courage not to dare. The courage may be the same, but it is applied differently; hence the phrase “one may bring benefit or harm.”

Heshang Gong: “Always knowing these two” refers to daring and not daring. “Benefit or harm” means that preserving one’s life is beneficial, while destroying it is harmful.

Commentary by Rong: The two refer to death and life.

Cheng’s subcommentary: “May” indicates uncertainty. The two refer to daring and not daring: a drive to advance that does not dare leads to longevity and benefit; advancing while greedily entangling oneself in things leads to death and harm.

The second section: Good fortune and calamity arise from Heaven’s principle

“What Heaven disapproves of—who knows its reason?” What Heaven’s Way abhors—forceful and reckless conduct—who can fully explain why? This line follows from what came before: behind good and bad fortune, benefit and harm, lies Heaven’s principle, which human effort cannot fully fathom.

Summary in plain language

Laozi’s discussion of courage is not an encouragement of brute boldness. It teaches us to distinguish between two kinds of “courage”: forceful daring often invites death, while remaining still, knowing when to yield, and having the courage not to dare are ways of preserving life. The commentators support this idea from the perspectives of self-cultivation, conduct in the world, and longevity: greedily pressing forward brings harm, while emptiness and detachment bring benefit. Heaven’s Way abhors the forceful and overbearing. We should therefore keep the difference between daring and not daring in mind, choose not to dare, and preserve ourselves.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Opening line of the text

(On) restraining and explaining: who, after all, is acting recklessly? Therefore, one should continue to hold to the “reason” of one’s intention—that is, to follow what is proper and not act rashly. Among those who act deliberately, once courage is stirred, it brings harm. This is precisely what the Dao of Heaven abhors. But among ordinary people, who can understand the “reason” behind it—the cause, or Heaven’s intent?

The Riverbank Lord says

What the Dao of Heaven abhors is deliberate action: reckless movement and forced effort. Who can know the “reason” behind Heaven’s intent and avoid offending it?

Rong says

The Dao of Heaven cherishes life and abhors killing. People often fail to seek benefit and avoid harm because they do not understand the “reason” behind Heaven’s intent.

Commentary by Cheng

The natural order rewards goodness and brings misfortune upon excess. If one traces the workings of retribution, its governing principle is difficult to comprehend fully.

Therefore, even the Sage finds it difficult

The Imperial Commentary

Even the Sage regards acts of courage with difficulty and caution.

The Imperial Subcommentary

The Sage is mentioned here to encourage ordinary people: even with the Sage’s understanding, courage is approached with difficulty, for fear it may bring harm. How much more could ordinary people who wish to act courageously do so without harm?

The Riverbank Lord says

Even the Sage, with clear understanding and abundant De, finds courage difficult. How much more so for those without the Sage’s De who still wish to act that way?

The Dao of Heaven does not contend, yet excels at overcoming

The Imperial Commentary

The following lines discuss the humility of the Dao of Heaven, warning people against courage in human affairs. Heaven does not contend with things. The seasons wax and wane, and all things follow their course.

The Imperial Subcommentary

Since the preceding passage says that Heaven abhors something, the next four lines explain at greater length the humility of the Dao of Heaven and warn against courage in human affairs. People contend because they are attached to winning and losing. The Dao of Heaven distributes itself impartially, giving only to what is good; nothing can oppose it. Hence the text says, “excels at overcoming.”

The Riverbank Lord says

Heaven does not contend with people over rank or lowliness, yet people still fear it.

Rong says

The Dao of Heaven has no self-serving intention and competes with nothing. It is naturally held in honor and takes precedence over all things.

Commentary by Cheng

According to the natural Way, if one does not contend with others and instead yields humbly, one is sure to receive the reward of prevailing well.

It does not speak, yet responds well

The Imperial Commentary

What words does Heaven speak? It rewards goodness and brings misfortune upon excess, never making the slightest error. Hence the phrase “responds well.”

The Imperial Subcommentary

What words does Heaven speak? It simply rewards goodness and brings misfortune upon excess; good fortune and misfortune follow in response. Hence the text says, “It does not speak, yet responds well.”

The Riverbank Lord says

Heaven does not speak; all things move of their own accord and respond to the seasons.

Rong says

Retribution for wrongdoing and blessing for virtue follow like a shadow following the body, without the slightest deviation. Hence the phrase “responds well.”

Commentary by Cheng

Misfortune and good fortune follow in response: the Dao of Heaven does not speak, yet its response arises of itself.

This Edict of Great Peace recounts the August Heaven’s instructions to the Most High Lord of the Dao: the Tang emperor’s son should ensure that all wondrous scriptures and the rites of the Four Divisions circulate throughout the realm, so as to secure peace in Chang’an and tranquility under Heaven. There is a prescribed rite for seeking grace: Daoist priests fast for ten days, and one assembly is held for every hundred households. One portion of the resulting merit is offered to Heaven, and another is dedicated to the disciples. In proportion to their offerings, they are granted wealth and rank in the next life, or rebirth as a Wheel-Turning King. For a great fast extending in all ten directions, the Daoist priests residing in the monastery must jointly establish an Arantuo altar. Their wishes will be fulfilled, and the Most High will also deliver their parents from suffering. The text further warns against illicit sex and the selfish desire to separate others, which brings harm upon oneself. All scripture collections throughout the realm should be gathered into the emperor’s treasury, and private households must not conceal them. If the scriptures are stored in unclean conditions, their merit is obstructed. Finally, it says that the Celestial Lord and practitioners become kin in their next lives, and that this bond must not be forgotten.

A Note on the “Heavenly Net”

“Great” means that the Heavenly Net is like a charter and a set of laws. The meaning is this: the natural net laid out by the Celestial Worthy—the law by which the Dao of Heaven corrects deviations and brings about retribution on its own—is vast and far-reaching, though its mesh is wide. No matter how great or small a person’s karmic burden, the reward for merit and the recompense for wrongdoing will, in the end, be exact.

Why Chapter 74, “The People Do Not Fear Death,” Follows the Previous Chapter

The previous chapter explains that living beings do not fear harsh punishments, yet cannot ultimately escape the Heavenly Net. This chapter follows by explaining that behind the Heavenly Net there is a netherworld administration, which oversees karmic retribution after death. The chapter presents four points: first, living beings’ karmic obstructions are so deep that they do not fear punishment; second, grave crimes inevitably bring suffering; third, this retribution is overseen by the netherworld administration; fourth, anyone who takes it upon themselves to kill on that administration’s behalf only brings calamity upon themselves.

The First Point: Living Beings’ Karmic Obstructions Are Deep, So They Do Not Fear Punishment

The Dao of Heaven should rightly assign names and administer punishments; this is a principle of nature. But why should a ruler use death to frighten people? Someone may wear jade pendants, hold the golden pivot, and occupy the highest throne; Yi Yin and Lü Shang may serve as ministers, and Chen Ping and Zhou Bo as strategists; the dynastic realm may flourish. Yet only when a ruler of peace and a sovereign who yields the throne are in power can the people sit in their courtyards, patting their bellies, or strike the earth in the fields, unaware of imperial power and feeling no gratitude for the sovereign’s favor. The man who wore a fur coat in the fifth month did not envy those dressed in fine, light garments; the man with only a foot of coarse cloth held fast to his integrity. From this we can see that the span of a hundred years is already reckoned in one’s fate. In life, Yang Hu knew in advance that he would live apart from wealth and fine treasures; at death, Guo Pu foresaw that gold would emerge from his stone stele. Thus the ancients said, “Life and death are determined by fate”—a saying that is truly reliable.

Now the point is made clear: to kill people unjustly and presume to take the netherworld administration’s role of deciding who dies is pointless. Since the principle of Heaven remains undying in the hidden world, why should a ruler act this way? It is like taking a woodcutter’s place and chopping wood: one is bound to injure one’s hands.

Scripture and Imperial Commentary

The people do not fear death; why use death to frighten them?

Imperial Commentary: People indulge their desires and repeatedly head toward death, until this becomes habitual and they no longer fear it. A ruler should transform the people through stillness. Why establish penal laws and frighten them with executions?

Imperial Subcommentary: People cannot abide by the Dao and remain still. They indulge their desires and head toward death, making this a settled habit until they fear nothing. A ruler should guide and teach the people through stillness. Why use penal laws and executions to frighten them?

Heshang Gong says: The Heshang Gong commentary on this line is not fully quoted here. Its general meaning is close to that of the Imperial Commentary: frightening the people with death is no foundation for governing a state.

Summary

This subcommentary discusses Chapter 74 of the Dao De Jing: if the people no longer fear death, threatening them with execution will not work. A ruler who oversteps their authority and kills on behalf of the netherworld administration is like someone taking a woodcutter’s place and chopping wood, thereby harming themselves. The Heavenly Net is vast and its retribution exact; life and death follow their allotted fate. In governing, one should rely on stillness rather than killing.

A Commentary on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

1. Why the People Do Not Fear Death, and the Harm of Harsh Punishments

General meaning of the scripture:

The people do not fear death because those who govern the state impose punishments that are too cruel and severe. Life has become unbearable, so they no longer fear death. Likewise, when those who cultivate themselves indulge their desires and damage their spirit, or pursue wealth and harm their bodies, the people cannot tell what they ought to fear. If the ruler refuses to ease the laws and teach people to let go of their passions and desires, how can he expect to frighten them simply by threatening them with death?

Yan, a commentator, says:

People are at ease when things go their way, and when they do not, they scheme for what is beyond their due. In hardship, they think little of life and death; in times of ease, they cherish their bodies. When the people’s hearts are not won and their lives are not secure, orders cannot be put into effect. A beast cornered in the wilderness does not flee a rhinoceros or tiger. This is not because it has changed for the better, but because circumstances leave it no choice.

Rong, a commentator, says:

When the age is in accord with the Dao, all things cherish life; when the age follows Wuwei (non-action), everyone values their life. If people cannot be settled through the highest De (Virtue/Power), but are instead suppressed with harsh punishments, life becomes unbearable. The saying “the people do not fear death” arises from cruel penalties. The ruler ought to be forgiving, to govern through De, and to set punishment aside. Yet he still rules through cruel laws and expects people to fear death. This is a lament for the failings of that time.

Cheng, in his subcommentary, says:

This rebukes ordinary people for their delusion and deep-rooted habits: they pursue external things greedily and do not fear life or death. Even when the precepts and prohibitions are made clear and strict, they remain wholly unafraid. Hence the sigh, “How can this be?”—a lament of profound and enduring sorrow.

2. Deeply Entrenched Wrongdoing Must Bring a Bitter Retribution (“If I could seize and kill those who act deceitfully, who would dare?”)

The Imperial Commentary:

Suppose an entire generation were transformed by purity, so that people dared not sink into their passions and indulge their desires, and always held death in reverence. If only those who acted deceitfully and wickedly remained, then even if I had the power to seize and kill them, who would dare to carry out the killing at once?

The Imperial Subcommentary:

This explains that the ruler transforms the people through Wuwei. They have few desires, each preserves their life, and they remain mindful of death. Only those who act deceitfully and wickedly remain. Even if they could be seized and killed, who would dare to kill them at once? The reason one does not kill lightly is that the “Heavenly Net”—the punishments of the Dao of Heaven—already governs killing. The following passage expresses this idea.

The Heshang Gong commentary says:

If you want the people always to fear death, first rid yourself of cruelty, and teach the people to abandon the pursuit of profit and desire. As for those who “act deceitfully,” the question “If I could seize and kill them, who would dare?” points to transforming them through the Dao. If the people do not comply and instead resort to cunning and deceit, the issue becomes whether they should be seized and killed, and who would dare to do so. This follows the same thread as the idea that the “Heavenly Net” governs killing.

Brief notes on terms:

Wuwei (non-action): Refraining from reckless action and from governing by imposing one’s private desires.

Heavenly Net: A metaphor for the Dao of Heaven, which has its own system of reward and punishment; the ruler must not kill arbitrarily.

“Preserve what is”: To show leniency and avoid harsh punishment.

“Act deceitfully”: To engage in cunning, aberrant, and wicked conduct.

General Meaning of the Passage

This is like obeying the law of the king: seize someone and execute them—who would dare to offend again? What grieved Laozi was that the rulers of his time did not first guide the people through moral instruction, but instead resorted to punishments.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: Greedy and deceitful thoughts grow stronger by the day, until people take disorder and inversion as normal. Then the underworld officials seize them and put them to death according to the law, with torture by blade and staff. The scripture states this plainly. If people had any awareness and could reflect on themselves, who would dare to commit further crimes?

Third section: These bitter consequences are under the charge of the underworld—“There is always one who presides over killing, and that one kills.”

Imperial commentary by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang: Heaven’s net does not let such strange and deceitful people escape; hence it is said that there is always a celestial official who presides over killing, and Heaven itself brings death. The meaning is that the wicked should be killed by the one who presides over killing. If a ruler seizes people and kills them through his own authority, he is taking the place of that official.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: “Presides” means to be in charge. Heaven’s discernment is clear and sees everything. That deceitful people do not die a good death is precisely what is meant by “there is one in Heaven who presides over killing, and that one kills.”

Heshang Gong: The one who presides over killing is Heaven. From its lofty position it watches over people’s transgressions. Heaven’s net is vast: its meshes are wide, yet nothing slips through. That is the meaning.

Yan Zun: The one who presides over killing may also refer to the ministers. The ruler’s way is to govern through Wuwei (non-action); officials before and behind, to the left and right, each have their own duties. Those who cause disaster die, and those who usurp power bring ruin upon their clans. When all officials fulfill their roles, the ruler need not wield the knife himself.

Rong Yi: “Presides” means to be in charge. The principles of reward and punishment have their proper order, with officials regularly entrusted with the authority to grant life or death. This must not be done recklessly. If someone deserves death for breaking the law, yet the ruler takes it upon himself to kill that person in Heaven’s place—

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: This system of punishments has its own authorities: the Three Offices, the Nine Bureaus, the One Hundred and Twenty Departments, as well as the courts of Luofeng, the Northern Capital, and Quanqu. The Eight Difficulties and Five Sufferings each have their own officials in charge.

Fourth section: Forcibly taking the underworld’s authority brings disaster in return—“To act in place of the one who presides over killing is like trying to carve wood in place of the master carpenter.”

Imperial commentary: When a ruler delights in carrying out executions himself, he inevitably acts against the principles of Heaven. This is like an inept craftsman trying to cut wood in place of a master carpenter.

Imperial subcommentary: The one who presides over killing should deal with the wicked. If a ruler presumptuously takes on that responsibility, he is “carving wood in place of the master carpenter”—meddling in another’s work. His craft is bound to be clumsy, and disaster will follow.

Overall meaning in plain language: Laozi opposes “putting punishment first instead of beginning with moral instruction.” He also stresses that the authority over life, death, and reward and punishment belongs to “Heaven” or to the underworld’s officials who preside over killing. If a ruler abuses his power and kills people on impulse, he is carrying out punishment in Heaven’s place and carving wood in place of the master carpenter. He thereby loses De (Virtue/Power) and invites blame. The commentators explain “the one who presides over killing” in different ways—as Heaven, as ministers, or as the Three Offices and Nine Bureaus of the underworld—but they all share the same central idea: the authority to kill has its proper keeper and must not be presumptuously usurped.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of Relevant Passages from Collected Annotations on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and De

(Based on a text in the style of commentaries and annotations. Some characters may have been corrupted in transmission; the translation follows the reasoning of the surrounding context.)

Opening passage: When warfare is waged by the wrong people

Once war begins, it is often not the right people who are waging it for a just cause. Generals indulge in clever stratagems and boast of their abilities; campaigns and suppressions along the borders follow one after another, and the people are oppressed at every turn. The people—even women and children—can bear it no longer, yet they have no way to appeal or voice their grievances. At this point, the affairs of state are beyond repair. Grievances pile up and spill beyond the human realm, becoming a malign force like “restless spirits” that then throws the state into further disorder. Thus the ancients said: Those who bring a state to ruin are precisely the ones most fond of schemes and calculations. Even after the state has fallen into disorder, they remain miserly and calculating, refusing to treat others with sincerity. This is like a thief who steals something and then boasts, “I’m the best thief around.” Their inhumanity has reached its extreme.

The nature of Heaven, Earth, and humanity

The Dao of Heaven, the Dao of Earth, and human nature each have their own constant measure. Yet people act in ways that violate all three and still do not reflect on themselves. For this reason, the sage responds to all things with an impartiality that may seem “inhuman”—showing no favoritism and acting from no private feelings—and lets the conditions that bring order and disorder return to “having nothing to gain.” This accords with the ideas in chapter 79 of the Dao De Jing: “When a great grievance is reconciled, some resentment must remain,” and “Those with De oversee the bond; those without De oversee the levy.” A reconciliation forced upon people leaves resentment behind. Those with De honor the agreement and do not use their power to exact revenge; only those without De rely on their power to plunder.

When Dao and technique are forgotten, people find their way; when rivers and lakes are vast and open, fish can thrive on their own. In the time of Emperors Wen and Jing, their benevolence reached far and wide; under Cheng and Kang, their teachings were gentle and pure. The Zhou called it a great benefaction, the Han, the abolition of punishments. Arrows of thorn wood came from the east, and spirit glue from the west. The four classes of people lived in peace, and the people acted without interference. Villages paid tribute in silk from eight-cycle silkworms, and fields yielded rice ripe for a second harvest. Gentle breezes blew morning and evening, and sweet dew fell in the courtyards of the imperial palace. The Crown Prince’s virtue flourished in the eastern palace, while the ministers assisted the Dao in the vermilion halls. Heaven and earth were balanced, lawsuits ceased, and punishments were clear and fair. In the villages of Yao, every household was fit to be ennobled; such times need not be far off. The people flourished as in the age of Xuanyuan, when carriages and robes stood side by side in the court. People rejoiced in the right order of things: how could there be levies that left them hungry? Since death was not treated lightly, every household cherished the wish to preserve life. The sage’s transformation worked through Wuwei (non-action), and I myself lived in peace.

Scripture: The people are hungry because those above them consume too much in taxes; that is why they are hungry.

Imperial Commentary: People throughout the realm are hungry and deprived because those in positions of power extract too much in taxes. That is why the people go hungry.

This scripture primarily examines the relationship between state governance and the suffering of the people. If rulers impose excessive taxes, the populace will fall into poverty and starvation. The text points out that the root cause of people's hunger and cold lies in the sovereign's excessive taxation. When basic livelihoods cannot be guaranteed, the foundation of the state becomes unstable, leading to social turmoil.

Regarding the difficulty of governance, the scripture analyzes that the people become hard to govern precisely because rulers are overly "active" (referring to excessive interference and forced decrees). When a ruler's desires multiply and edicts become overly complex, it instead incites deceitful behavior among the people, making society even more difficult to manage. Conversely, if one practices "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" (a mode of governance that follows natural principles), the people will naturally become easier to guide.

The final section observes that people take reckless risks and undervalue life because they excessively pursue material comforts. When survival needs are overemphasized, it paradoxically leads to behaviors that devalue life. This critique applies both to material overconsumption and subtly warns that spiritual practitioners who greedily chase external pleasures will damage their inner virtue (De).

Commentaries from various schools all emphasize: excessive taxation leads to unbearable hardship for the people; overly numerous decrees create governance difficulties; and excessive pursuit of material desires causes people to disregard life. These views embody the Daoist political philosophy of "tranquility and non-action," maintaining that rulers should reduce interference, lighten taxes, and allow people to live peacefully according to their natural way.

General Meaning of the Scripture

Imperial Commentary: People throughout the world treat death lightly because they go against their proper limits and pursue excessive nourishment for life. That is why they take life lightly.

Imperial Subcommentary: People readily enter places of danger and lose their lives because they do not keep to their proper limits and go too far in preserving life. They disregard the laws in order to satisfy their desires, and so treat death lightly.

The Lord of the Yellow River says: People treat death lightly because they seek life too intensely. Ordinary people readily commit capital crimes because their pursuit of life is excessive: they greedily seek profit and thereby endanger themselves, so they treat death lightly.

Yan says: They seek life too intensely, and so readily enter places of danger.

Rong says: Those who cherish life can restrain restless emotions through their true nature; those who treat death lightly are swept along by the current of desire. They use the life they naturally possess to nourish a false self. This is what is meant by “excessive cultivation of life”—“excessive” means accumulating too much. Accumulated things disturb the mind; too many flavors dull the palate. Those who fail to take care to preserve longevity, indulge their desires, and ruin their bodies readily enter places of danger.

Subcommentary on the Completion of the Way: People treat death lightly because of “excessive cultivation of life.” Practitioners fail to live out their natural span and readily enter places of danger because they are deluded by emotion and mistaken ideas, and have not awakened to the truth. They do not know that both things and self are illusory, and that in life there is no fixed life. Instead, they greedily pursue the Six Dusts and lavishly nourish the Four Great Elements, and so treat death lightly. This concludes the meaning of the preceding passage.

Third: Showing the Beauty of “Forgetting Life” to Encourage Students

Scripture: Only those who do not make life their concern are more worthy than those who prize life.

Imperial Commentary: When one is content with one’s natural allotment, life is preserved. But if one nourishes life beyond its proper measure, that measure is exceeded and life is lost. Thus only those who do not make excessive cultivation of life their aim are more worthy than those who hold life precious.

Imperial Subcommentary: Life has its limits; keeping to one’s proper measure is enough. One cannot go against it, nor add to it. To pursue life beyond what is truly appropriate is delusion. Thus, without excessive cultivation of life, life is preserved; in seeking to cultivate life excessively, life is lost. We can see that those who do not worry about life are more worthy than those who prize it.

The Lord of the Yellow River says: Only those who do not make life their concern are unmoved by rank and salary and do not take wealth and profit for themselves. The Son of Heaven cannot make them subjects, nor can the feudal lords command them. They are therefore more worthy than those who prize life.

Yan says: The natural Way is always contrary to the things of the world: those without a self live; those who cling to a self die.

Related passages from A Collected Commentary on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

On “Pursuing Profit” and “Esteeming Life”

Those who strain to pursue fame and profit from the moment they are born are, in fact, laying the groundwork for death. Only those who can set fame and profit aside and return to life’s original nature can be said to have truly begun to live.

Do not treat being human as capital for a life of ease and pleasure, or assume that being alive guarantees longevity.

Rong’s commentary says: Heaven’s Dao takes “life” as its being. Yet if one nourishes life excessively, beyond one’s proper measure, one harms life instead. This cannot be called truly esteeming life. Those who have penetrated the utmost Dao contemplate themselves and see that they are not real entities; they awaken to “nonbirth,” no longer perceive illusory forms, and cast off defilement, desire, and attachment. They unite with emptiness and stillness, sharing a common root with the utmost Dao. Though they make no deliberate effort to “nourish life,” life is naturally sustained. This is what it means to esteem life. “Worthy” means good; “Virtue” means precious.

Cheng’s subcommentary says: “The worthy” refers to those who have awakened to the mystery. They do not simply deny form and emptiness; through “sitting in forgetfulness,” they enter the birth of formlessness. Thus they reject foul odors, fame and profit, and the dusty world. Above all, they do not regard “life” as “life.” Those who are skilled at gathering themselves inward and cherishing life are the ones who esteem life.

Chapter Seventy-Six, “When People Are Born” (Theme and Structure)

This chapter follows directly from the previous one. The previous chapter explained that those who ceaselessly “generate life”—greedily clinging to life and overnourishing it—actually make light of death, while those who forget their attachment to life attain longevity. This chapter therefore explains that the soft and weak tend to live long, while the hard and strong tend toward death and destruction, distinguishing between their merits and failings. The argument has three parts: first, two pairs of images illustrate hardness and softness; next, the images are brought together to distinguish their relative strengths and weaknesses; finally, principle and image are presented side by side, and the argument is restated.

First section: Two pairs of images illustrate hardness and softness

The deity of Nanchang in the south, who oversees the registers of life, corrects the records of human lifespans; yet it is the overbearing and forceful who are entered in the register of death held by the Northern Emperor of Fengdu, ruler of the underworld.

In the cosmos, what is light and clear can endure and remain intact, like the nourishing moisture of wind and clouds. The substantial solidity of the earth is often praised as hard as metal and stone; yet what is hard can be worn away, while what is moist suffers no harm. The utmost Dao puts things to use by always remaining in a lowly position. To cut off one’s nose is inauspicious; to gouge out one’s eyes goes against one’s allotted life—both are examples of self-injury. What need had Yao Li, the ancient hero, for trickery? Ziqiu—also written Ziyu and used here as an example of someone seeking fame—was as foolish and perverse as Zhi the Robber. He turned against his father and elder brothers to display his “mighty courage.” How could he know that self and things alike must be let go? Humility and softness always take the lower place; there is no need to rely on divination for good fortune, as the reference to Buyou implies. Sun Shu’ao, the worthy minister of the Spring and Autumn period, held a feather in his own hand: wood floats in a whirlpool, and withered leaves move like the wind. Jin Bi, the famous general of the Warring States period, died beneath an iron hammer; Shi Jilun, the wealthy Shi Chong of the Jin dynasty, perished by a golden axe. Once dead, who can regret it—and whose fault is it? Better to preserve oneself through clarity and calm.

Note: The original is written in the style of a subcommentary interspersed with notes, and contains many personal names, place names, and allusions.

When living, the human body remains soft and flexible, but becomes rigid after death. This resembles how plants grow with tender, pliable leaves and branches that become dry and brittle when withered. Thus rigidity belongs to the path toward death, while softness embodies the vitality of life. The living body stays supple because it's filled with Qi (vital energy); the corpse stiffens when this Qi dissipates. This teaches us that preserving softness safeguards life, whereas forceful dominance invites destruction.

Heshang Gong (commentator) explains: While alive, Qi flows freely through the body, maintaining its softness; after death when Qi exhausts and Shen (spirit) scatters, rigidity sets in. Master Rong (commentator) further notes: The softest thing in the world is Qi, yet the Dao is softer still. Humans survive by relying on the Dao's vital Qi—when Qi remains, the body can bend and stretch freely; when aligned with the Dao, actions flow with natural ease. Losing this soft quality means losing hold of Qi; Qi depletion brings physical death, Shen dispersion ends life, leaving the corpse stiff and immobile.

Cheng Xuanying (commentator) employs the plant analogy: Growing vegetation stays soft and fresh, becoming dry and hard when withered. This demonstrates that both humans and plants remain pliable when alive due to harmonious Qi (balanced life energy), while rigidity follows Qi's dispersal. Comparing sentient humans with insentient plants serves to encourage Dao cultivators to abandon rigidity and embrace softness as their way of being.

All living plants begin tender and fragile in growth, turning stiff and withered in death. This natural phenomenon illustrates how vegetation flourishes with soft, lush leaves when Qi gathers, but withers when Qi dissipates. Earlier we discussed sentient life; here we cite unfeeling plants—if even these depend on Qi's gathering and scattering, how much more should humans?

Plain-Language Interpretation

The principle of life and death in plants and sentient beings

When plants and trees are alive, they are soft and tender because harmonious Qi (the vital energy of balance and harmony) remains within them. When they die, they wither and become stiff because this harmonious Qi has dispersed. From this we can understand that, in sentient life, attaining the Dao (the Way) is expressed as softness and weakness, while losing the Dao is expressed as rigidity and strength.

Thus, what is rigid and hard belongs to the company of the dead—those on the same path as death. What is soft and yielding belongs to the company of the living—those on the same path as life.

The Imperial Commentary and Subcommentary (the Tang-dynasty commentary on the Dao De Jing by Cheng Xuanying and others) here brings the preceding discussion to a close: people who act with rigidity belong to the path of death; those who act with softness belong among the living.

The Heshang Gong commentary (attributed to the author of a Han-dynasty commentary on Laozi) says that from the two examples of plants dying and living, and the human body bending and stretching, we can see that the rigid tend toward death while the soft tend toward life.

Yan Zun, a Tang-dynasty Daoist who wrote the Commentary on the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue, says that while people are alive, Shen (spirit) remains in the body, blood and Qi circulate, the bones are supple, the sinews flexible, and the body bends and stretches freely. In death, Shen departs from the body, the form withers, the tongue shrinks, and the body stiffens: this is what “rigidity” means. He also says that softness is like an infant, while rigidity is like a young adult. When blood and Qi are at their peak, decline is approaching. When the bones are withered and the sinews drawn tight, food has no taste and death is near. All this is brought on by excessive strength. The soft, by contrast, say, “I am strong enough.” This is true of people and of plants.

Rong Yi, a Tang-dynasty Daoist, says this passage concludes the preceding discussion by showing that sentient and insentient things each have their own place within the two principles of life and death.

The Cheng commentary (Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary) says that we can see from this that people who act rigidly violate the principle of harmony and belong to the same class as the dead; those who act softly accord with harmonious Qi and belong to the same class as the living. The examples used here correspond to the meaning of the preceding passage.

Third section: Using warfare as a metaphor for people, and drawing the discussion together again

Hence it is said: An army that relies on strength will not prevail.

The Imperial Commentary (Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s commentary on the Dao De Jing) invokes the idea that “the grieving prevail” to explain that those who rely on strength are bound to lose.

The Imperial Subcommentary says the discussion now turns back to conclude the preceding point. The Art of War says, “Make compassion your guiding principle.” Hence it says that an army relying on strength will be defeated. The point is that people who rely on strength will likewise meet their death.

The Heshang Gong commentary says that an excessively powerful army is warlike and delights in killing, gathering up hatred and resentment. The many weak unite to resist the one strong, so the strong army cannot prevail.

Yan Zun says that an enemy army fighting on every front may rely on force to seize people’s land and wealth, destroy their ancestral temples, and deprive them of their altars of state to display its power. Those close to it will die, and those who serve it will suffer calamity.

Throughout this passage, three examples—plants, the human body, and warfare—repeatedly illustrate the Dao De Jing’s teaching that softness gives life while rigidity brings death. The commentaries of different scholars reinforce one another in explaining this principle.

Plain-Language Interpretation

The passage in brief

To live is to serve the world; even death can benefit the world. The many and the weak gather together to resist the strength of one, so the strong are unable to prevail.

Key points from the commentaries

Rong says: For this reason, when military force is too strong, it cannot prevail; wood that is too hard is liable to “crumble”—to split or be crushed under pressure. If one holds power without virtue and relies only on military might to dominate, one brings violence and killing to the world, which all things abhor. The weak gather into a multitude and, by supporting one another, become strong; when they unite to attack in turn, victory is no longer assured. It is like a tree: when its trunk is too rigid, the branches and leaves are all pressed above it; when a main beam is too massive, the rafters and tiles weigh down upon it. This analogy urges people to cultivate virtue and remain yielding, rather than flaunting military power and asserting their strength.

The Cheng commentary says: In “military strength cannot prevail; when wood is strong, it crumbles,” “military force” can refer to the three poisons and six sense faculties. If people indulge their six emotions, act aggressively toward what they encounter, and take without restraint, they will surely suffer great calamity; hence “cannot prevail.” This is also like a tree whose thick, strong branches press down upon it, or a massive main beam weighed upon by rafters and tiles.

The Imperial Commentary says: The roots of a tree are strong, yet they are below; its branches are supple, yet they grow together above. The point is that the yielding and weak are above, while the strong and rigid are below. The following passage will explain that the strong and great are beneath, while the yielding and weak are above.

The Heshang Gong commentary says: A tree’s roots are strong, yet its branches and leaves grow together above. In building, large timbers are placed below and smaller pieces above. Heaven’s Dao suppresses the strong and supports the weak; this is its natural working.

Yan says: The way of the spirits does not have the small bear the great, nor the light bear the heavy. Strong people are often a source of sorrow for the world. If strong wood is placed below, its roots will wither. This shows that a strong person cannot be king.

Rong says: Life is something people rejoice in, and the yielding and weak belong to the category of life—does this not mean they are above? Death is something all things grieve, and the firm and strong belong to the category of death—does this not mean they are below?

The Cheng commentary concludes: Strong wood is below, while yielding branches are above. We therefore know that people who are firm and strong often remain beneath those who are yielding and weak.

The central idea in a sentence

Heaven’s Dao naturally restrains the strong and supports the weak. In cultivating virtue, people should remain yielding and occupy the higher position, rather than priding themselves on weapons and force. This is the same analogy as the tree, with its roots below and its branches and leaves above.

Plain-Language Interpretation of Relevant Passages from Collected Subcommentaries on the True Scripture of the Dao and De

Chapter context

Chapter 77, “The Way of Heaven,” follows the previous chapter. That chapter explained the relative strengths and weaknesses of firmness and softness, and urged people to cultivate themselves. This chapter goes further, exploring the principle of reducing what is excessive and replenishing what is lacking, so that those who study the Dao may reflect on it more deeply. The chapter has three parts: first, it uses a metaphor to sketch the contrast between higher and lower; next, it discusses reduction and increase at greater length; finally, it concludes by describing the intention of the sage.

A metaphor that briefly illustrates the contrast

Ordinary people have limited understanding, so direct explanations of profound principles can be hard to grasp. Metaphors make them easier to understand.

The Way of Heaven is empty and far-reaching; it cannot be measured by human likes and dislikes. To understand its meaning, we can think of drawing a bow: the bow must be drawn to a suitable height and depth for an arrow to hit its mark at the right distance. Another example is the ingenious device of Zhang Heng of the Han dynasty: disturbances occurring thousands of miles away could set it in motion, like a fengwu, a legendary mechanical bird used to measure the wind. And at the time of Emperor Wu of Han, a fangshi seeking immortality said that it would take three years to startle the yunyan, the “cloud goose.” These are all examples of responding to events at the right time without missing the moment.

The Way of Heaven naturally reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is lacking. Human society, by contrast, often takes from those who already have too little and gives to those who already have too much. The “reducing and increasing” of Heaven and humanity are often opposites. In truth, the original Qi, the primordial energy of Heaven and Earth, fills and pervades all things, while the Mysterious Source, the root of the Dao, is remote and indistinct. Within it is true stillness, which nurtures and transforms all things without human assistance. The Way of Heaven does not need the human heart to “reduce” anything on its behalf. The great Peng spreads its wings and flies ninety thousand li by its own power; the Kun beats the water and swims three thousand li on its own. This is like saying that the bow and arrow can hit the bull’s-eye.

Consider another comparison: Nongyu played her flute by harnessing the drifting clouds; when a zither was played at Gusu—perhaps referring to Shi Kuang or someone like him—the flowing waters had to be set in motion for the music to take shape. In such cases, everything must accord with the situation for the result to be complete. Only a person who has the Dao can enter into this kind of mysterious subtlety.

Scripture

The Way of Heaven—is it not like drawing a bow?

The workings of Heaven are just like drawing a bow to shoot an arrow, are they not? When the bow is drawn too high, it is pressed down; when drawn too low, it is lifted up, so that its force returns to balance.

Key points from the commentaries, in plain language

Imperial Commentary: The Way of Heaven is remote and profound. Its workings cannot be explained clearly without a metaphor, so drawing a bow is used to show how the Way of Heaven operates.

Imperial Subcommentary: This presents both the principle and the metaphor: it explains the rule and provides an illustration. The Way of Heaven is remote and profound; only a metaphor can make the Virtue of Heaven clear. The specific method of drawing a bow is explained below.

Heshang Gong: The Way of Heaven is perceptive and clear, and uses the myriad things as its metaphor.

Rong: Human affairs are close at hand yet shallow, and even when they are right before us we cannot see through them. The Way of Heaven is distant and profound, and looking up, we cannot see it directly. Those who have lost their way can readily understand a metaphor, while the right path is difficult to explain. That is why drawing a bow is used as an illustration.

Note: In Daoism, the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) are the three heavens or realms of Yuqing, Shangqing, and Taiqing. The commentary’s phrase “the person of softness and weakness dwells above the Three Pure Ones” describes the spiritual attainment of someone who studies the Dao. It means that although this person follows the Way of softness and weakness, their spiritual realm can rise as high as the Three Pure Ones.

Cheng’s Commentary: The Way of Heaven is like drawing a bow to shoot an arrow: what is high is pressed down, and what is low is raised up. This is a metaphor for the way of nature. It is like adjusting a drawn bow from above and below, bringing the high down and raising the low. When high and low are brought into balance, the arrow can be released.

Cheng’s Commentary: “What is high is pressed down, and what is low is raised up; what is in excess is cut back, and what is insufficient is made up.”

Imperial Commentary: A bow must be adjusted in this way to hit its target. Likewise, the Way of Heaven diminishes what is full and replenishes what is humble. The aim is for a ruler to follow Heaven’s example in governing the people, so the principles of pressing down and raising up are set forth.

Imperial Subcommentary: To use a bow, one must first choose the right materials and determine its shape, so that its tension and flexibility are properly balanced. Pressing down what is high and raising up what is low happen when the arrow is set and aimed; cutting back what is in excess and making up what is insufficient happen when shooting near or far. Only then can the arrow hit its mark. The Way of Heaven works in the same way: as the sun and moon, cold and heat, come and go, what is in excess is reduced as they arrive, and what is insufficient is replenished as they depart. In this way, the work of the year is accomplished. A ruler should follow Heaven’s example: restrain the strong and support the weak, diminish what benefits some and increase what benefits others. Thus the teaching of diminishing what is full and replenishing what is humble aims to have people give fairly, in accordance with the actual circumstances of things.

Heshang Gong: This means that a bow must be adjusted in this way to work well. Pressing down and raising up, diminishing the strong and increasing the weak—this is the Way of Heaven and Earth.

Yan Zun: A bow must be properly adjusted to be used. If the string is too tight or too high, it must be loosened; if it is too slack or too low, it must be tightened and raised. Excessive tension is reduced, and what is lacking is made up. When the string and bow are properly matched and balanced, the bow can be used and the arrow can be shot.

Rong Yi: The principle of using a bow is this: if it is too high, it may overshoot, so it is pressed down to keep it from rising too far; if it is too low, it may fall short, so it is raised to keep it from sagging. Neither too high nor too low, it hits the center of the target. Governing a state works the same way: reduce the excess of the rich and increase what the poor lack. When the poor receive more, they are no longer poor; when the rich have less, they are no longer rich. This is the proper way to govern. If something is too high, it risks becoming empty, so it should be pressed down to keep it from being empty; if it is too low, it risks becoming blocked, so it should be raised to keep it from stagnating. When it is neither stagnant nor empty, it accords with the Middle Way.

This passage contrasts Laozi’s famous “Way of Heaven” with the “way of human society.” The Way of Heaven is like drawing a bow: it reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is insufficient. The human way, by contrast, often does the opposite, taking yet more from those who already lack and offering it to those who already have plenty.

The Imperial Commentary says that the Great Dao gives impartially. It should “reduce the many and increase the few, make up for scarcity and benefit the poor.” People, however, go against the Way of Heaven and harm those who already have too little.

The Imperial Subcommentary explains further that this echoes the Book of Changes, in the Hexagram of Humility: “taking from the abundant to benefit the scarce.” Who can truly act in accordance with the Way of Heaven, bringing what is in excess to aid those in need? Only a person who possesses the Dao can do so.

Heshang Gong puts it plainly: the Way of Heaven reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is insufficient. It consistently upholds balance and harmony and honors humility. The human way is the opposite of the Way of Heaven: it takes from those who lack and gives to those who have plenty. In ordinary society, this means the poor grow poorer while the rich grow richer, and the weak are stripped so the powerful can grow wealthier.

The Rong Commentary, following the line of interpretation associated with Wang Bi, stresses that the earlier discussion of the Way of Heaven serves to highlight how human conduct runs counter to it. People fail to weaken the strong and benefit the weak; instead, they impoverish the poor and enrich the wealthy.

The Cheng Subcommentary connects this passage with what comes before: the Way of Heaven reduces what is excessive and replenishes what is insufficient, in keeping with the natural principle that good fortune rewards goodness and misfortune follows excess. The human way is different. People in the world favor deceit and pursue fame and profit, violating the principles of Heaven. They cut into the flesh of the poor and weak to supply the surplus of the rich and powerful.

The various commentaries agree on the meaning of the line, “Who can take what is in excess and offer it to the world? Only one who possesses the Dao”:

The Imperial Commentary asks who can give their surplus rank, salary, and possessions to people in the world who are in need. Only one who possesses the Dao can do so.

Heshang Gong asks who, while holding a position of abundance, can reflect on their rank and salary and use them to support those in the world who lack. Only a ruler who possesses the Dao can do so.

The Rong Commentary asks who can follow the Way of Heaven by reducing excess and benefiting the humble. A ruler who possesses the Dao should be able to do this.

The Cheng Subcommentary asks who can use wealth and virtue to benefit the people. It must be someone who holds to the Dao.

In plain terms, Laozi uses the image of drawing a bow to describe the Way of Heaven: it lowers what is high and raises what is low, naturally moving toward balance. Human society, however, often taxes the weak and presents gifts to the powerful. The passage is not empty metaphysical talk. It asks: Who is willing—and who is truly able—to overturn this distortion and use what is in excess to make up for what the world lacks? The answer points to those who possess the Dao and to rulers who possess the Dao. This is not a slogan, but a way of acting in keeping with the principle of reducing what is excessive and replenishing what is insufficient.

Plain-Language Commentary

This passage explains the lines in the Daodejing, “The sage acts but does not rely on his accomplishments” and “When the work is done, he does not claim the credit.” The combined meaning of the various commentaries can be summarized as follows.

“Thus the sage acts but does not rely on his accomplishments.”

The Imperial Commentary says that the sage models himself on the Dao of Heaven. He gives and brings things into balance according to their natural qualities, treating all things equally. He bestows kindness on them without relying on or boasting about his own achievements.

The Imperial Subcommentary explains that the sage is cited here to clarify the earlier meaning of “one who has the Dao.” To “rely” means to take pride in oneself or boast. The sage follows Heaven, impartially extends De to all things, and benefits them without making his accomplishments known. Hence, he “does not rely on” them.

Heshang Gong says that the sage practices De and gives freely, without expecting anything in return.

Rong says that when the sage “acts but does not rely on his accomplishments,” he does not claim credit for what he has done; when he “completes the work but does not claim the credit,” he does not take credit for his achievements. He does this to conceal his sacred De and keep his ability from view. When those above behave this way, those below naturally follow their example. The harm caused by competing for fame then disappears, and the abuses that come from “exalting the worthy” cannot take root.

The Cheng Commentary says that the sage is always skilled at helping things. He gives both material resources and De, without relying on the effort he has expended. Even when he has accomplished great things, he does not claim the credit. His aim is to be modest and to give credit to the things he has helped, concealing his brilliance and keeping a low profile so that others will not see his worth.

“When the work is done, he does not claim the credit.”

The Imperial Commentary says that the sage does not claim credit for completed work because he does not want others to see his ability. He therefore yields the credit and does not take possession of the accomplishment.

The Imperial Subcommentary says that the sage knows that if one claims credit after completing the work, the Dao of Heaven will inevitably diminish it. So even when his Dao reaches throughout the world and his achievements benefit all under Heaven, he attributes the honor to everyone and does not claim the credit himself.

Heshang Gong says that when a task is finished and its goal achieved, the sage does not take that place for himself, since he does not want others to know how worthy he is.

The Imperial Commentary restates the point: yielding credit and not claiming it means that the sage does not want the myriad things to see his ability.

The Imperial Subcommentary sums up the explanation of “does not rely on his accomplishments” and “does not claim the credit”: though his inner De is full, outwardly he conceals his good reputation. Thus, he neither relies on his actions nor claims credit for his work. This is precisely to conceal his De and obscure his name, so that things do not see his worth. It also expresses the principle of “diminishing what is excessive.”

In brief

The commentaries agree that the sage does not claim credit or flaunt his ability when acting, cultivating De, or accomplishing great things. This accords with the Dao of Heaven: it does not contend and places itself below. The idea fits the words “acts but does not rely on his accomplishments” and “when the work is done, he does not claim the credit,” while also carrying forward the previous chapter’s criticism of “exalting the worthy” and competing for fame. One who truly has the Dao benefits the world through his achievements without claiming them for himself.

Laozi teaches here that true merit does not lie in self-promotion. Heshang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty commentator on Daoist scriptures) explains this as revering the Dao of Heaven and fearing that excessive display may invite harm. The way of Heaven invariably diminishes what is overly full—just as the moon wanes after reaching fullness, and water overflows when its vessel is filled.

Practitioners of the Dao should understand that excessive pursuit of glory and boasting of achievements runs counter to the natural Dao. Genuine cultivation requires emulating Heaven's way by maintaining humility and restraint, for only thus can one preserve oneself enduringly. Like a vessel that topples when overfilled, those who constantly showcase their accomplishments ultimately invite misfortune. This embodies the profound Daoist wisdom of "reducing excess to supplement deficiency."