《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 2

The Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue, Volume Two

Imperial commentary and subcommentary by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang

Commentaries by Heshang Gong, Yan Junping, and Li Rong

Subcommentary by Master Cheng Xuanying of Western Florescence

Compiled by Qiang Siqi of Mengyang

Chapter Five: Heaven and Earth Are Not Benevolent

(This chapter follows directly from the previous one. The previous chapter spoke of “the utmost in emptiness and mystery,” with the Dao preceding all phenomena. This chapter reveals the principle of “forgetting one’s accomplishments”: the sage models himself on Heaven and Earth and shares their Virtue. It has three sections: first, the sage and Heaven and Earth bring about transformation without claiming credit; second, the wondrous function is illustrated through the bellows; third, it criticizes extensive learning and broad knowledge as inferior to embodying the truth.)

First: The Sage and Heaven and Earth Bring About Transformation Without Claiming Credit

When the One Qi first divided, Heaven became round and clear, above to cover all things, while Earth became square and turbid, settling below. Both came into being through the transforming power of the Great Dao and received the Qi of Yin-Yang together. Nüwa mended Heaven with stones and raised the pillars that support it, yet claimed no gratitude. Kuafu died after drinking from the river as he measured the farthest reaches of Earth, but no one recorded his merit. Shuhai walked across the land to measure it, but could not find its end; Qin Mi measured the sky, but could not find its bounds. Heaven and Earth treat the myriad things without benevolence, as though they were straw dogs. The Milky Way rolls on in a vast current, and travelers cannot tell how far it stretches; the source of the Yellow River lies in a distant haze, beyond even Zhang Qian’s ability to measure its length or reach. Compare Heaven and Earth to a bellows: its work is done, yet it makes no claim. Take its empty center as a metaphor: it is never heard to bend or run dry. The Way of Heaven moves on—how can it be called “benevolent”?

Scripture:

Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs. The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs.

Imperial Commentary:

“Not benevolent” does not mean that they fail to practice benevolence; it means that they do not keep personal favors in mind. “Straw dogs” are dog-shaped figures woven from straw. A real dog guards the gate and so offers the protection of its care. A straw dog has only the shape of a dog: it cannot bark or guard, so there is no question of loving care. The meaning is that Heaven and Earth regard people as people regard straw dogs, without making demands of them. Consider this: perfect benevolence has no favorites. How could it be the narrow, selective love of “caring for all”? Once love is partial, it is no longer perfect; it becomes favoritism. If one does not love only one’s own parents, then all under Heaven may be treated as parents; if one does not regard only one’s own children as children, then all under Heaven may be regarded as one’s children. This is perfect benevolence.

This passage comes from a commentary on Chapter Five of the Daodejing, “Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs.” It layers together explanations from several commentators; the general meaning is as follows.

The Imperial Commentary (an official Tang-dynasty explanation)

“Benevolence” means caring for all and extending universal love. Here, “straw” originally means grass. In ancient times, people bundled grass into the shape of a dog and used it in sacrifices. That is what “straw dog” means. In “The Course of Heaven” in the Zhuangzi, Yan Hui asks Master Jin about straw dogs: before they are placed on the altar, they are wrapped in embroidered cloth and stored in a box; after the sacrifice, passersby pick them up for firewood. Heaven and Earth are supremely benevolent in bringing the myriad things into being, yet they do not value them as people might value a straw dog for its usefulness in barking or guarding the gate. Nor do they regard bringing the myriad things into being as bestowing favors or practicing benevolence. Hence the saying, “not benevolent.” A sage who governs the people under Heaven should view them in the same way.

Note

“Kindness that covers and protects”: Confucius said that grass was used to cover a dog rather than simply throw it away, so that the dog could be buried (Book of Rites). “Do not show affection only to one’s own kin” comes from “The Conveyance of Rites” and means that one should care for more than just one’s relatives.

Commentary by Heshang Gong

Heaven and Earth are “not benevolent” because they transform and bring forth the myriad things without deliberately practicing benevolence; this is simply their nature. They treat the myriad things as straw dogs, the grass dogs used in sacrifice. Heaven and Earth bring the myriad things into being, and although humans are the most valued among them, Heaven and Earth do not therefore show them special favor—just as people raise livestock without expecting anything in return. A sage is “not benevolent” because, in nurturing the people, the sage does not use benevolent favors to win them over. Following the example of Heaven and Earth, the sage lets things unfold naturally and treats the people as straw dogs. This does not mean holding people in contempt, but acting without private favors or demands for repayment.

Yan Junping (Yan Zun)

Heaven is high and clear; Earth is deep and still. Yin and Yang interact, and harmonious Qi flows. In quiet non-action, the myriad things arise of themselves; this does not come from a deliberate commitment to “benevolent love.” The sage holds to the Dao and maintains harmony, remaining calm and unchanged, at one with the Dao. The world responds of its own accord, and the myriad things transform by themselves. Why abandon thought and make a show of benevolence?

Rong (said by some to be Rong Yi, writing in a preface or as a commentator)

“Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs”: oppositions such as long and short, right and wrong, are all part of the natural order. “Benevolence” implies that where there is love, there is also dislike. Heaven and Earth are without intention and transcend both dislike and love; because they show no partial affection, they are called “not benevolent.” Straw dogs are made of grass for prayers and discarded when the rite is over. While in use, they are not treated as treasures; when discarded, they are not treated as enemies. So it is with Heaven and Earth: spring warmth allows the myriad things to arise of themselves, but this is not counted as an act of benevolence; the chill of autumn frost withers and destroys them, but this is not counted as an act of righteousness. “The sage is not benevolent and treats the people as straw dogs”: the sage is without intention and shares the De of Heaven and Earth.

A note on the background

“Straw dogs” were grass figures shaped like dogs and used in ancient sacrifices. They were treated with reverence before the ritual and discarded afterward. Laozi uses them to describe how Heaven and Earth, and the sage, make no distinction between those they favor and those they do not, but let things unfold naturally. This is not a lesson in cruelty; it rejects treating benevolent favors as a form of exchange or partiality.

The meaning of benevolence and straw dogs can be understood from this: Even when blessings reach plants and trees, and nourish birds and beasts, the spread of moral teaching must still begin with people. Hence the scripture says “the people.”

Cheng’s Commentary: “Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs.” “Benevolence” means favor, and a “straw dog” is a dog made of straw. Zhuangzi says that straw dogs were used in sacrifices. The sky is above and the earth below; together, the Two Forms shelter and sustain all living things. Their efficacy is immense, yet they are said to be “not benevolent,” because they regard all things as one and the same straw dog. Why? A straw dog has the name of a dog but none of its reality. So too, all things are illusory and empty of substance; therefore, there is no favor for which repayment can be demanded. “The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs.” The sage embodies the De of Heaven and Earth and shines with the same light as the sun and moon. With an empty mind, he benefits all things and has a creative power equal to that of Nature. Thus Heaven and Earth are mentioned first, and the sage is brought into view afterward. Though the sage saves all beings, in the end he sees neither a transformer nor those transformed; they, too, are like straw dogs, illusory and without substance. The earlier passage refers to the Two Forms as encompassing all things, including those without awareness, and so says “the myriad things.” The later passage brings the sage’s concern for sentient beings into view, and so says “the people.” This does not mean that beings without awareness are left untransformed; rather, sentient beings can receive instruction.

Second: Using the two instruments, the bellows and flute, to explain wondrous efficacy

Scripture: Is the space between Heaven and Earth not like a bellows and a flute?

Imperial Commentary: “Tuo” (bellows) and “yue” (a wind instrument). The bellows drive the wind, and the flute carries the breath. Both work through emptiness and without intention, and so they can move and respond. The space between Heaven and Earth gives life to things without partiality, also through emptiness and without intention.

Imperial Subcommentary: Is the space between Heaven and Earth not like a bellows and a flute? Empty, yet never exhausted; in motion, it produces ever more. A tuo is a leather bag that blows air to fan a fire; a yue is a pipe or flute. Heaven and Earth can treat the myriad things as straw dogs because the space between them is empty. They therefore give life without partiality and make no demands, like a bellows driving the wind or a pipe carrying breath. They constantly respond to those who seek from them, yet remain indifferent; thus they are empty without being exhausted, and when moved, produce ever more sound and breath. This is an analogy for a ruler who keeps an empty mind and remains quietly attuned to the Dao. If he guides the people with a uniform, unadorned influence, he will not be bent or frustrated; daily affairs will proceed without anyone knowing how, and his actions will bring forth ever more.

The Riverbank Duke said: The space between Heaven and Earth is empty and harmonious.

The flow of Qi between heaven and earth never ceases, thus all things grow naturally. If humans can eliminate emotional desires, restrain cravings for food, and keep the five viscera pure, then the Shenming (primordial spiritual nature) will dwell peacefully within. This principle resembles the workings of a bellows (tuoyue, ancient metallurgical air-blowing device): its hollow interior allows the continuous production of air currents and sound.

The movement of heaven and earth follows the same principle as the bellows—appearing empty yet never exhausted, generating more energy the more it's activated. The secret lies precisely in the bellows' hollow structure. Similarly, if humans can maintain a state of profound emptiness while applying wisdom and De (Virtue), they can become as endlessly generative as the bellows.

Ancient sages used the bellows and flute as metaphors: the bellows symbolizes empty-mindedness, while the flute represents benefiting all things. Both heaven-earth and sages benefit the myriad beings by maintaining a heart of tranquil emptiness. This characteristic of "being empty yet never exhausted, producing more through movement" resembles how the sage's impartial mind never exhausts its wisdom—when acting, methods for teaching beings emerge without end.

If heaven-earth became attached to benevolence, transformation would stagnate and beings couldn't grow; if sages became attached to benevolence, their grace couldn't spread universally; if the bellows became filled to capacity, Qi couldn't circulate—these are the pitfalls of overemphasizing benevolence. Precisely because the bellows remains empty inside can it continuously produce sound; precisely because heaven-earth maintains wuxin (non-deliberate action) can it endlessly generate the myriad beings.

Rather than pursuing extensive knowledge and speech, it's better to maintain the Middle Way within (shouzhong). Excessive talk easily leads to difficulties, and widespread compassion becomes impossible to fulfill completely—better to preserve a mind of tranquil emptiness, which naturally achieves perfection. Just as the bellows' movement produces sound, the sage's responsive transformations naturally generate teachings—this is the most fundamental truth.

This passage explains the principle that "excessive speech leads to exhaustion." The term "response" here refers to empty words without corresponding action—essentially non-response. Heshang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty commentator on Daoist texts) explains: Speaking too much leads to predicaments, excessive affairs deplete one's Shen (spirit), and superfluous words harm the body. The mere movement of tongue and lips invites misfortune; it's better to maintain inner emptiness and stillness.

Yan Junping (a Western Han Daoist scholar) further elaborates: Heaven and Earth never speak—it is precisely through maintaining emptiness that they nurture all things. Sages likewise speak sparingly, keeping laws empty to align with the Dao of Heaven. When this occurs, prisons stand vacant, ghosts and spirits remain tranquil in Wuwei (non-action), and the world naturally achieves peace.

Li Rong (a Tang dynasty Daoist priest) observes: However voluminous one's speech, if it doesn't accord with the Dao's principles, it will only invite calamity. Fortune and misfortune don't depend on quantity of words but on their appropriateness. Therefore, we're cautioned against the fault of excessive speech and urged to preserve inner emptiness, thereby harmonizing with the great Dao.

Cheng Xuanying (another Tang dynasty Daoist) adds: While broad learning may increase worldly wisdom, without comprehending the great Dao, one ultimately reaches an impasse. True wisdom lies in maintaining inner emptiness, the path to enduring vision and longevity. As Zhuangzi noted, ornate rhetoric obscures essence while extensive knowledge drowns the original mind. Yang Zhu similarly warned: too many branching paths make sheep lose their way, just as excessive erudition makes humans lose the Dao.

The subsequent sixth chapter discusses how "the valley spirit never dies" (indicating the Dao's eternal existence through emptiness like a valley). Where the previous chapter taught that extensive knowledge is inferior to guarding the center, this chapter demonstrates how maintaining emptiness enables eternal existence like the valley spirit. The chapter divides into two parts: first clarifying how the supreme Dao generates Heaven and Earth, then explaining how the Dao—neither eternal nor ephemeral—works tirelessly without exhaustion.

[Contextual note inserted here: Ancient Chinese believed all phenomena were composed of subtle Qi (vital energy). Legends like the Yellow Emperor ascending on a dragon or Wangzi Qiao visiting Emperor Wu of Han on a deer illustrate how cultivation could achieve longevity. Practitioners perceived the "Mysterious Feminine" (Xuanpin)—the Dao's generative maternal power—existing eternally like continuous, unbroken breath.]

I. A Metaphor for Nurturing and Cultivating the Body

If one can nurture the “Valley Spirit” and protect life, steadfastly uphold the principle of “the One” in what is subtle and hidden, and thereby stabilize body and mind; and if one can also attain the true state by consuming the Five Sprouts (a Daoist health practice referring to five kinds of numinous sprouts or the essence of the Five Qi), then white hair may turn back, like a crane’s, to the vigor of youth, and life may be prolonged to a great age, like a tortoise’s. One need not lament over things like the morning mushroom, born at dawn and dead by dusk, nor envy the great longevity of the Great Chun, which endures for a thousand autumns yet has its own appointed term. One may clap the shoulder of the immortal Hongya on the left and draw in the spirit-energy of the god of Gaoqiu on the right. How can one reach such a state? Through the principle of “nurturing and protecting”—truly subtle indeed.

II. “The Valley Spirit Never Dies” and the Imperial Commentary

Scripture: The Valley Spirit never dies.

Imperial Commentary: “Valley” means empty and receptive; “spirit” means subtle and beyond measurement. “Die” means to cease or rest. A valley echoes sound without knowing how it does so: when something calls, it responds, and its response is like that of a spirit. Such a response never ceases. To make clear that the ultimate Dao is empty yet gives rise to the myriad things, and that its wondrous workings are difficult to name, the Valley Spirit is offered as a metaphor.

Imperial Subcommentary: “The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female.” The Valley Spirit describes how a valley echoes sound: just as the Dao responds to things, it answers whenever something evokes it, and its response is like that of a spirit. “Spirit” names what cannot be measured, while “die” means to cease or rest. Because this unfathomable response never ceases, it is called the Valley Spirit that never dies. “Mysterious” means profound and distant; “female” means mother. The Valley Spirit’s response is profound and wondrous, beyond words, and the myriad things depend on it for their nurture. Hence it is called “the Mysterious Female.”

“The Gate of the Mysterious Female is called the Root of Heaven and Earth.” The Mysterious Female’s workings answer whenever something evokes them. Since the response proceeds from things, they are called a “gate”—a gate is where things enter and leave. Though Heaven and Earth have vast forms, without the workings of the Mysterious Female they would split apart and dissipate. Heaven and Earth therefore receive the One as their root; hence it is called “the Root of Heaven and Earth.”

III. Explanations by Various Commentators

Heshang Gong: “Valley” means nurture. If a person can nurture the spirit, they will not die. “Spirit” refers to the spirits of the Five Organs: the Liver stores the Hun, the Lung the Po, the Heart the Shen, the Kidneys the Jing, and the Spleen the intent. When all Five Organs are injured, the five spirits depart.

Yan Zun: The wondrous Qi of Great Harmony transforms the myriad things like a spirit. It takes emptiness as its home and tranquil stillness as its constant state. It enters and leaves without openings, and comes and goes without interruption. In movement, nothing fails to go as it should; in stillness, nothing fails to take shape. It transforms without itself being transformed, and gives life without itself being born.

A Certain Commentary (Rong): “‘The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female’—Heshang Gong takes this to mean nurturing the spirit, a method of maintaining focused attention; Wang Bi says instead that the emptiness within the valley is a metaphor. Though these are the elevated views of learned men, they mostly explain the principle through its practical application. Here, we will explain it in terms of the principle itself: …”

Note: Hongya and Gaoqiu refer to legendary immortals or sacred mountains. The morning mushroom and the Great Chun come from the Zhuangzi and illustrate the contrast between short and long lifespans. “Maintaining focused attention” refers to the Daoist cultivation method of visualizing and sustaining the spirits and Qi within the body. Wang Bi, also known as Fusi, was a Wei-Jin commentator on the Laozi. The “Imperial Commentary” and “Imperial Subcommentary” generally refer to the system of Laozi commentaries and subcommentaries attributed to Tang emperors; the Xuande Collected Subcommentaries contains explanations of this kind by Cheng Xuanying and others.

An Explanation of “Valley Spirit”

One attempt to explain the passage reads: “Valley” refers to emptiness, “spirit” to the Dao, and “female” to stillness. Once there is form and spirit, there is birth and death. And where there is birth and death, the Dao’s flow cannot be described in ordinary terms. Movement and stillness have no fixed form, so how can one speak only of “stillness”? If one can empty the body and keep the spirit from being burdened by external things; understand that birth has no cause but is simply the gathering of Qi, without clinging to “life”; and understand that death has no aperture but is simply the dispersal of Qi, without clinging to “death”—then one is neither born nor dead. This is the meaning of “Valley Spirit.” Birth and death are impermanent, like things that drift and never settle. Deep and mysterious like the female, still and serene: this is the meaning of “Mysterious Female.”

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary: “Valley” means emptiness; “spirit” means numinous intelligence. Heshang Gong says that the valley can nourish and nurture. The point is that beings pass through the cycle of birth and death because they cling to desire. If they can guide and nurture the spirit, making it spacious and unobstructed like an empty valley, they will no longer fall into the cycle of birth and death.

This Is Called the Mysterious Female

Emperor Xuanzong’s commentary: “Mysterious” means profound and far-reaching; “female” means mother. The Valley Spirit responds to things and acts through balanced harmony; its transformations are without limit, and its depth and subtlety are inexhaustible. It can give birth to all things like a mother. Names such as “Valley Spirit” and “Mysterious Female” therefore describe the functions by which the Great Dao gives birth to, nurtures, and sustains all things.

Heshang Gong: The way to avoid death lies in the Mysterious Female. “Mysterious” resembles Heaven and corresponds to the nose in the human body; “female” resembles Earth and corresponds to the mouth. Heaven nourishes people with the Five Qi, which enter through the nose and are stored in the heart. The Five Qi are clear and subtle; they transform into spirit, intelligence, voice, and the Five Natures. Their spirit is called the hun soul. The hun belongs to Yang and governs coming and going. Because the nose connects with Heaven, it is called the Mysterious Female. Earth nourishes people with the Five Flavors, which enter through the mouth and are stored in the stomach. The Five Flavors are dense and heavy; they transform into the body, bones and flesh, blood and vessels, and the Six Emotions. Their spirit is called the po soul. The po belongs to Yin and governs coming and going through the mouth. Because the mouth connects with Earth, it is called the Female.

Yan Zun: The female is soft and able to give birth; the mysterious is remote and unseen. Though it gives birth to all things like a mother, its form cannot be seen.

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary: “This is called” connects with what came before. “Mysterious” names what does not become fixed or remain attached; “female” conveys the meaning of softness. To explain how to nurture the spirit like a valley and keep it from dying, nothing is better than stillness, withdrawal, softness, and spaciousness without attachment.

The Gate of the Mysterious Female Is Called the Root of Heaven and Earth

Emperor Xuanzong’s commentary: The Mysterious Female is profound, subtle, and empty; it can give birth to all things as their mother. All things arise from it, so it is called a “gate.” Heaven and Earth have form, and both receive their existence from this source; therefore, it is their root.

Imperial commentary: The Mysterious Female’s function responds whenever it is stirred. It responds to things and gives birth to them, so it is called a “gate.”

Note: This section explains Chapter 6’s passage, “The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female. The gate of the Mysterious Female is called the root of Heaven and Earth,” alongside commentaries by Heshang Gong, Cheng Xuanying, and others. It also brings the abstract ideas of “Valley Spirit” and “Mysterious Female” into the traditions of health cultivation and immortality techniques by relating them to the nose and mouth, hun and po souls, and the Five Qi and Five Flavors.

A Plain Language Interpretation

I. On the “Gate” and the “Root of Heaven and Earth”

The original meaning of “gate” is a passage for entering and exiting. Although Heaven and Earth are vast, tangible existences, if they cannot make use of the hidden feminine—its subtle, maternal, empty, still, and yielding function of holding and nourishing—they are like things that have lost their pivot, tending toward collapse and dissipation. Heaven and Earth therefore depend on taking “the One” as their foundation. Hence the scripture says, “This is called the root of Heaven and Earth”: this is their fundamental source.

Heshang Gong says that “root” means the original source. Such “gates” as the nose and mouth are precisely where the original Qi of Heaven and Earth flows in and out.

Yan says that Great Harmony can give life without dying, and begin without coming to an end, because it opens a passage for the divine and serves as the root of Heaven and Earth.

Rong says that when the Dao is still, it has no form or appearance. Once it moves, it gives birth to Heaven and Earth, and all things emerge from it; this is why it is called a “gate.” Heaven and Earth come into being through it; this is why it is called the “root.”

The Cheng Commentary says that this deeply mysterious, unobstructed Dao and its feminine, empty, yielding, and still way open a passage for all things and bring forth and transform the Two Modes (Yin and Yang). Thus it is called the “root.”

II. Continuous and Seemingly Present; Use It Without Strain

The Imperial Commentary: The function of the hidden feminine appears as something continuous and subtle; it responds to events as if present, yet almost absent. It is used without intention, and so does not bring fatigue.

The Imperial Subcommentary: “Continuous” means subtle and unceasing; “seemingly present” means responding to events without selfishness. Without selfishness, its use does not require strain of mind or effort.

Heshang Gong says that “continuous and seemingly present” is like breathing through the nose and mouth: the breath should be subtle, as if present and yet almost nonexistent. “Use it without strain” means that Qi should be used with ease and spaciousness, not in a hurried, exhausting way.

Yan says that movement and stillness are mysterious, seeming at once absent and present; the forming of things and the carrying out of affairs are all like this. It shines without going out. Its use does not bring strain because it is “life that does not arise” and “form without form in its underlying substance.”

Rong says that “continuous” means subtle. The way of the hidden feminine neither arises nor ceases; the principle of feminine stillness is neither present nor absent. If one says it exists, its form cannot be seen; if one says it is absent, all things nevertheless arise through it. It neither flourishes nor declines, and is neither constant nor severed; hence it is called “continuous.” “Strain” means exertion and hardship. One who attains the way of the hidden feminine can use it without limit, resting at ease through Wuwei (non-action); hence the text says “without strain.”

The Cheng Commentary: “Continuous” means subtle and unbroken; “as if” means seeming; “present” means existing. To claim outright that spirit is empty is the view of annihilation; to claim outright that spirit exists is the view of permanence. The preceding passage says that spirit is empty, and therefore it can avoid death.

A Plain-Language Reading of Collected Annotations on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Scripture of the Dao and De

Preface (continuing from the previous chapter)

There is also concern that those who study the Dao may let their minds remain fixed on “emptiness.” The text therefore goes on to say “as if it exists,” correcting the tendency to annihilate and negate everything.

There is also concern that students may become absorbed in “substantial existence.” The text then uses the word “seems” to guide them toward a practice that is constant without becoming one-sided or attached.

This practice, which is neither complete nonexistence nor rigid attachment to substantial existence, and this discipline of mind, which is neither annihilation nor a stiff defense of fixed appearances, form the essentials of cultivation. They require no strenuous effort or toil, yet accord with the true Dao.

Thus the Scripture of the Western Ascension says: Any action brings burdens and hardships as weighty as kalpas; only by learning that there is nothing to learn can one understand the natural.

Chapter Seven: Heaven Is Long, Earth Endures

Chapter’s Main Idea

The previous chapter explained how the empty and mysterious Supreme Dao establishes the two forms of Heaven and Earth. This chapter takes those two forms as its basis for discussing methods of cultivation.

The text of this chapter can be divided into three parts:

1. First part: It presents the two forms of Heaven and Earth directly and reasons through a hypothetical question and answer.

2. Second part: It briefly describes the capacity of sagely wisdom to cultivate and put things into operation.

3. Third part: It concludes by praising how the sage alone can attain exalted status.

First Part: Presenting the Two Forms and Reasoning Through a Hypothetical Question and Answer

At the beginning, when the two forms of Heaven and Earth first separated, Heaven and Earth were already firm and stable. The sun and moon hung in the sky and shone; the bright stars illuminated the darkness. The flying dragon ruled the heavens, and the mare traveled across the earth. Thunder and lightning displayed their might, while Yin-Yang spread Qi. All arose from the Dao, the mother of the myriad things.

Though the Dao is lowly—it does not contend and takes the lower place—it is precious. Tao Kan, the famous general of the Jin dynasty, passed swiftly through eight gates, wise rather than foolish; Shudu, that is, Guo Tai, was clear and calm as a vast expanse, neither overflowing nor leaking. The reason the Great Dao can borrow forms to endure and remain secure, lasting, and tranquil lies in its shaping of wondrous forms: it anchors mountains below and floats clouds above. Eggs stacked one upon another do not topple, and their substance remains intact—this is the power of the Great Dao.

Scripture: Heaven Is Long, Earth Endures

The Imperial Commentary highlights the words “Heaven is long, Earth endures” to explain that only by being selfless and free of self-centered intent can one last long. Heaven and Earth serve as a metaphor: the sage can place himself behind others and keep himself outside their affairs, thereby achieving his own aims through selflessness.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: This names the theme of the chapter. Heaven operates through Qi and its manifestations, so it is called “long”; Earth exists through form and substance, so it is called “enduring.”

The Commentary of the Lord by the River says: The long life and enduring years of Heaven and Earth serve as a metaphor for teaching the people of the world.

Cheng Xuanying (as Rong explains) says: Heaven and Earth can endure because they do not live for themselves; therefore, they can live long. The cycles of the sun and moon, their waxing, waning, and turning, are difficult to halt. Yin and Yang contract and expand, while the alternation of cold and heat passes with ease. The myriad things are not the point here; this is how the two forms can endure.

Note: This chapter’s use of “Heaven and Earth endure” as a metaphor for “the sage is selfless and places himself behind others” is a common reading of Chapter Seven of the Dao De Jing. The various commentaries differ somewhat in their emphasis on terms such as “naming the chapter,” “Qi and its manifestations/form and substance,” and “not living for oneself.” This plain-language version aims to preserve the original meaning without adding to it.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

The passage singles out the enduring De of Heaven and Earth and asks why they last so long. The reason is always that they are free of self-interest and do not strive to sustain their own lives.

Here the passage focuses on the ability of Heaven and Earth to endure, asking what accounts for their longevity. At root, they are free of self-interest and do not seek their own advantage. Thus they can bring forth and nourish the myriad things without trying to sustain themselves.

If people can follow Heaven and Earth by being free of self-interest and not striving to sustain themselves, they can richly nourish their immortal bones, endure like metal and stone, and keep the channels of life firm and lasting. But if they cannot set aside right and wrong to accord with the Dao, or abandon desires and passions to gather the True, then sights and sounds will dull their eyes and ears, and scents and flavors will overwhelm their nose and mouth. Their bodies will grow weary from exertion, and their minds exhausted within. A hundred-year lifespan will be like morning dew, and a body worth a thousand pieces of gold like a hibiscus fading at dusk. Thus it is said that people take death lightly because they nourish their lives too intensely; that is why they take death lightly.

If people emulate Heaven and Earth by being free of self-interest and not striving to sustain themselves, they can richly nourish their immortal bones, endure like metal and stone, and keep the channels of life firm. But if they cannot release judgments of right and wrong to accord with the Great Dao, or let go of desires and passions to gather the True One, then sights and sounds will cloud their eyes and ears, and scents and flavors will clog their nose and mouth. Their bodies will grow weary and their minds exhausted. A hundred years of life will be like morning dew, and a body worth a thousand pieces of gold like a hibiscus fading at dusk. Thus it is said that people take death lightly because they devote themselves too intensely to preserving life; that is why they take death lightly.

Cheng’s commentary: Though the Two Forms are vast, they too have a time when the kalpa comes to an end. Yet among things with form and appearance, they endure for a relatively long time. Therefore, Heaven and Earth are cited as an analogy for the sage.

Cheng’s commentary: Though Heaven and Earth are vast, they too will reach the end of a kalpa. Still, among things with form and appearance, they last relatively long. For this reason, Heaven and Earth are used as an analogy for the sage.

Heaven and Earth can last long because they do not live for themselves; therefore they can endure.

Heaven and Earth endure because they do not live for themselves. Thus they can last.

The Imperial Commentary: Heaven and Earth bring forth living things and have many functions of De. They can last long because they receive their endowment from the Dao and do not boast of their achievement in bringing things into being.

The Imperial Commentary: Heaven and Earth bring forth and nourish all things, exercising De in many ways. They endure because they receive their endowment from the Dao and do not boast of their work in generating things.

The Imperial Subcommentary first identifies the line of inquiry; here it poses a question. The question is: Why can Heaven and Earth last so long? They cover and support the myriad things and nurture the many kinds of beings, all of which receive their endowment from the wondrous source. Heaven and Earth do not boast of their work in bringing them into being; for this reason, they can continually bring forth and nurture things.

The Imperial Subcommentary: The preceding passage introduces the line of inquiry; this passage poses the question. Why can Heaven and Earth endure? They cover and support the myriad things and nurture the many kinds of beings. All receive their endowment from the wondrous source, and Heaven and Earth do not boast of their work in generating them. For this reason, they can continually bring forth and nurture things.

Another interpretation: “They do not live for themselves” means that Heaven and Earth bring forth and nourish the myriad things but do not use them to benefit their own lives. Therefore, they can endure.

Another interpretation: “They do not live for themselves” means that Heaven and Earth bring forth and nourish the myriad things without seeking to prolong their own lives. Therefore, they can endure.

Heshang Gong says: “Heaven and Earth can last long because they do not live for themselves. Heaven and Earth alone can endure because they give calmly and seek no repayment. They are unlike people, who anxiously pursue their own gain, taking from others to enrich themselves. Thus they last long. Because they do not seek life, they can live long without end.”

Heshang Gong says: “Heaven and Earth can last long because they do not live for themselves. They alone can endure because they give calmly and seek no repayment. They are unlike people, who anxiously pursue their own advantage and take from others to benefit themselves. Thus they last long. Because they do not seek life, they can live long without end.”

Cheng’s commentary: The question of why Heaven and Earth can endure is posed to bring out the meaning. “They do not live for themselves” is offered as the answer to the earlier question and explains the reason. Heaven and Earth give life to the myriad things but do not strive to sustain their own lives; therefore, they can endure. This concludes the explanation.

Cheng’s commentary: The question of why Heaven and Earth endure is posed to clarify the meaning. “They do not live for themselves” answers the earlier question and explains the reason: Heaven and Earth give life to the myriad things but do not strive to sustain their own lives. Therefore, they can endure. This concludes the explanation.

The Sectional Explanation: “Heaven’s long life” refers to the Muddy Pellet, and “Earth’s endurance” refers to the Dantian (energy center). The Muddy Pellet descends to the Crimson Palace, while the Dantian rises. As they move up and down, the primordial Qi (vital energy) flows freely.

The Sectional Explanation: “Heaven’s long life” refers to the Muddy Pellet, the upper Dantian; “Earth’s endurance” refers to the lower Dantian. The Muddy Pellet descends to the Crimson Palace, the middle Dantian, while the lower Dantian rises. As they move up and down, primordial Qi circulates.

Notes on technical terms:

• Muddy Pellet: The upper Dantian, a place within the head where Qi is cultivated.
• Dantian: The lower Dantian, the place below the navel where Qi is cultivated.
• Crimson Palace: The middle Dantian, around the center of the chest.
• Primordial Qi: Precelestial Qi, the vital energy on which cultivation depends.

The Xuan De Compilation and Commentary on the Dao De Jing primarily discusses how sages attain longevity and nobility through selflessness.

The first section explains that when all the body's joints are permeated with harmonious Qi, one naturally unites with the great Dao—this is the path to eternal life. Here, "hundred joints" refers to the entire body's articulations, while "harmonious Qi" signifies the harmonized vital energy of Yin-Yang.

The second section elaborates on the wisdom and cultivation of sages. By placing themselves after others, sages gain the people's support; by not clinging to their own lives, they preserve them. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang notes that sages emulate heaven and earth in nurturing all things without seeking reward, so the people naturally revere them. Master Heshang Gong explains that sages treat others with humility, and thus the world honors them as parents, while the spirits protect them as infants. Yan Junping further clarifies that although sages do not strive deliberately, they accomplish great deeds—their teachings resonate with the divine, and their lifespans endure like mountains and rivers.

The third section concludes that precisely because sages lack selfish desires, they fulfill their ultimate aspirations. Just as heaven and earth nurture all beings without claiming merit, they achieve eternal existence. Here, "selfishness" does not mean greed but rather the sage's transcendent pursuit.

The passage as a whole illustrates the Daoist principle of wuwei er wubuwei (non-action yet nothing left undone): by not striving, one attains the goal; by relinquishing the self, one achieves the greater self.

“They are able to put themselves last and so preserve themselves; thus they are able to fulfill their own interests.” This means that the sage can put himself last and preserve himself, and so fulfill his own interests.

Yusou’s commentary: Heaven and Earth endure, and the sage can put himself last and preserve himself. This is not because they have no self-interest, and therefore endure or preserve themselves by putting themselves last. What, then, does the “self-interest” of preserving oneself mean?

Heshanggong: Is it not because they are fair and selfless that people cherish them and the spirits protect them, allowing them to fulfill their own interests? Ordinary people think that “self-interest” means favoring oneself. The sage has no selfish thoughts, yet ends up favoring himself; thus he can fulfill his own interests.

Rong’s commentary: Ordinary people are bound by emotion and their understanding is obstructed. They lack a heart of complete impartiality and act out of favoritism: they honor themselves and slight other things, favor their own bodies and slight other people. They wish to put themselves first, but cannot. They must preserve themselves and repay their bodies, until the self is lost. The sage is without intention. Wishing to take the lead among things, he naturally comes first. Free of emotional desire, he achieves firm preservation and naturally remains secure. Thus it says, “fulfill his own interests.”

Cheng’s commentary: This is because he is “without a master,” and so can “fulfill his role as master.” “Master” means ruler. The sage sees that self and things are illusory, and that names and realities are both empty. Thus he puts himself behind others, puts others first, forgets himself, and benefits things; hence he is “without a master.” The phrase “fulfill his role as master” concludes the challenge posed to the sage: because his De accords with the Two Powers of Heaven and Earth, and he regards the people as straw dogs, he alone occupies the honored place among the Three Realms and becomes the ruler who transforms both Heaven and humanity.

Chapter Eight: The Highest Good Is Like Water (This chapter follows the previous one because the previous chapter briefly explained the practice of forgetting oneself but did not reveal its efficacy. This chapter therefore follows by giving a fuller account of the person who forgets himself and of his extraordinary abilities and subtle effects. The chapter’s meaning unfolds in three parts: first, it states the model of the highest good, presenting both principle and metaphor; second, it broadly describes three abilities and explains seven virtues; third, it concludes by praising softness and weakness as the reason for being without fault.)

First, it states the model of the highest good, presenting both principle and metaphor

The highest De is profound and mysterious; the true source is hidden and unfathomable. It reflects the myriad forms in an empty chamber and brings forth the Three Powers through spontaneity. The gate of the myriad wonders is entered by all living beings; through the doorway of stillness and forgetfulness, all creatures multiply. What can serve as its metaphor? It is like water: a trickle at its source swells until it becomes an ocean whose waves reach the sky; the mountain of the Tail Drain gathers the great rivers and lets them flow out…

Though the earth is vast and beyond measure, it is clear and tranquil, yielding to the utmost. It can wash away the filth of the human world and, by its nature, remain pure and cool. The workings of the Dao may perhaps approach this state.

The Highest Good Is Like Water

Imperial Commentary: To explain the practice of the perfected person’s “highest good,” water is used as a metaphor for being “close to the Dao.”

Imperial Subcommentary: “The highest good” refers to a person; “like water” is a comparison. The perfected person is open and unattached in following the Way, forgetting goodness and thereby embodying goodness: this is goodness at its highest. The conduct of the highest good resembles the nature of water, and the discussion that follows develops this comparison.

Heshang Gong: A person of the highest good is like the nature of water.

Rong’s Commentary: The highest good is like water: water excels at nourishing all things without contending, and dwells in the low places that everyone else despises. Therefore it is close to the Dao. The Dao is profound and difficult to fathom, and the practice of those who cultivate the Way is subtle, so water is used as a metaphor. Water moistens things, while the Dao benefits people; hence the phrase “good at benefiting.” Water may overflow and burst its banks, going wherever it will; the Dao, by contrast, accords fully and treats all equally; hence “does not contend.” Most things despise low places, and most people love to dwell in high positions. Water flows down to low places, while the Dao acts with humility and restraint; hence “dwells in places people dislike.” “Close” means near. The nature of water is near to the Dao, so it is chosen as a metaphor.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: There are two ways of understanding water: one is grasping, the other is forgetting. Here, goodness is forgotten, which is why it is called the highest good. Water has many uses, so it serves as a comparison; these uses are listed one by one below.

Sectional Explanation: “Goodness” refers to the saliva in the mouth. Rinse the mouth with it and sweet fluid arises; hold it in the mouth and swallow it, and it benefits the spirits within. If you wish to practice this, rinse the “Flowery Pool” (Huachi)—the gathering place of saliva inside the mouth—every morning until the mouth is full of fluid. Then raise your head and swallow it, benefiting the spirits within and nourishing Jing and Qi (essence and vital energy).

Second: A General Outline of Three Abilities and an Expanded Account of Seven Virtues

Water excels at benefiting all things and does not contend. It dwells in places that everyone else dislikes. Therefore, it is close to the Dao.

Imperial Commentary: “Close” means near.

Imperial Subcommentary: Water excels at benefiting all things, does not contend, and dwells in places that everyone else dislikes. Its nature is sweet and cool; it scatters moisture everywhere, allowing all that it nourishes to grow. Hence “good at benefiting”: this is the first ability. Nothing under heaven is softer and weaker than water. Its level surface can serve as a model, and its clarity can reflect people. When it meets a hollow or channel, it follows the current and yields; it goes wherever people direct it, and it is always free of contention. This is the second ability. (The text should go on to discuss the third ability and seven virtues, but only the portion given here is translated.)

Water can moisten and nourish all things yet does not contend with them for height or lowliness; living beings always gather toward water in low places, and water rests content in the lower position, accepting what is turbid. It does not shun what people find repulsive. These three capacities bring water close to the Dao. “Ji” means nearness. Water can broadly benefit the myriad things, showing its vast usefulness; not contending shows its softness and humility; dwelling where others despise shows its ability to embrace filth. When these three qualities run through one’s being, one is close to the Dao.

Heshanggong explains that water is good at benefiting the myriad things: in heaven it becomes mist and dew; on earth it becomes springs and sources. It does not contend, and it also dwells where people despise. People reject what is low, damp, and foul, yet water flows quietly and rests there—so water’s nature is close to the Dao.

Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says that in heaven water becomes mist and dew, on earth it becomes springs, moistening the myriad things with abundant benefit. The sage’s virtue is also like water: able to respond to things and transform them, flexibly using skillful means to teach the multitude. Water’s nature is soft; it does not contend with the myriad things for form; it takes the shape of whatever vessel holds it, accumulates when blocked, and flows when there is an outlet. The person of highest goodness responds to the myriad things as water does. Ordinary people abandon the low and chase the high, pressing others with arrogance; the person of highest goodness leaves high rank, gladly stays below, soft and quiet, humble and without contention—therefore close to the Dao. To achieve these three capacities is to be close to the Dao; what follows is the sevenfold virtue.

Dwelling in a good place (ju shan di): The person of highest goodness settles the body in softness and humility, like water resting in the low and nourishing the myriad things. The imperial commentary says the earth is low, so water loves to flow downward; where the perfected person dwells is also good at broadly benefiting others. Heshanggong says water flows over grass and trees and then downward, like teaching that makes people act with humility in movement. Rong says water does not pick its place but flows wherever it is; one who walks the Way, wherever they dwell, can do good. Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says water’s nature seeks the lower and takes the low as its rest; the person of highest goodness also takes humility as auspicious and chooses lowly, uncontested places as good ground to dwell.

The heart good as an abyss (xin shan yuan): The mind should be as still and deep as an abyss.

This scripture uses the characteristics of water to illustrate the moral cultivation of Dao practitioners. It begins with "the heart excels in depth," meaning the mind of one who has attained the Dao resembles a still, deep pool—clear and luminous. When water becomes still, it turns transparent enough to reveal its bottom; when the human mind maintains emptiness and stillness, it gains insight into the nature of things. The deep pool reflects images precisely because of its stillness and depth; likewise, a mind that preserves emptiness and stillness can discern all things with clarity.

Next, it discusses "giving excels in benevolence," referring to the act of bestowing upon all things in accordance with the highest virtue of benevolence, just as water nourishes all things naturally and selflessly. Those who have attained the Dao benefit the world and aid others—their kindness, like water moistening all things, shows neither favoritism nor aversion. Water nourishes all things equally, and the sage's benevolence likewise extends impartially to all beings, making no distinction between friend and foe, purity and impurity.

Then comes "speech excels in trustworthiness," emphasizing that words should be honest and reliable, just as water, no matter how treacherous the terrain it flows through, remains true to its downward course. Those who have attained the Dao speak only truth, using it to instruct all beings, much like a spring maintains its nature regardless of obstacles. Water faithfully reflects the forms of objects, and the sage's words accurately convey truth.

Finally, it mentions "governing excels in order," stating that governance should be skilled in harmonizing, just as water regulates all things. Though not elaborated in detail here, the context suggests it refers to governing in a manner as natural and effortless as water, following the inherent nature of all things.

Plain-Language Interpretation

In governing, be skilled at setting things right: Governing affairs well is like water washing all things and making them clean.

Imperial Commentary: Government means setting things right. When the Perfected One (a person who has attained the Dao) acts, the mind clings to nothing. With an upright attitude, the Perfected One understands all things, and they naturally return to what is right. When things are right, they can govern themselves. Is this not skillful? Water, by its nature, can wash all things and make them clean; hence the phrase “skilled at setting things right.”

Heshang Gong: Nothing is left unwashed; everything is clear and level.

Rongzi: Nothing surpasses still water in its composure, and nothing is more fitting than a good person in impartiality.

Cheng Commentary: Water’s nature is peaceful and unbiased; the sage’s mind is upright and puts disorder right. Zhuangzi says, “Levelness and uprightness are the standards by which a master craftsman takes his measurements.”

In one’s work, be skilled at using one’s abilities: In its nature, water takes the shape of its container, whether square or round, and does not cling to any fixed form.

Imperial Commentary: The Perfected One is flexible and clear-sighted, encountering no obstacles in things. Whatever the action or task, the Perfected One can move through it freely; this is being skilled at using one’s abilities. It is like seeing everything clearly. Water’s nature is such that it becomes a river when channeled and a pond when dammed; it can float boats and fill empty spaces. It can do anything. This is being skilled at using one’s abilities.

Heshang Gong: It can be square or round; its shape follows whatever form it takes.

Rongzi: There is no use to which water cannot be put. What, then, could a noble person not do?

Cheng Commentary: Water is capable in many ways and benefits all things as circumstances require. The sage’s wisdom is empty, still, and discerning; it responds to all things and brings them to completion.

In action, be skilled at timing: Water melts in spring and freezes in winter.

Imperial Commentary: The Perfected One’s mind is like an empty valley and a clear mirror: when things come into contact with it, it responds. Water melts in spring and freezes in winter, changing with the seasons. Hence the phrase “skilled at timing.”

Heshang Gong: It disperses in summer and freezes in winter, responding and moving without missing Heaven’s timing.

Rongzi: Water freezes in winter and flows in summer, never out of season. A noble person acts when the time is right, and never acts at the wrong time.

Cheng Commentary: Water freezes in winter and flows in summer; whether it forms ice or runs freely, it follows the seasons. How much more so the sage, whose wisdom is empty and still and free of attachment: when things call forth a response, the sage responds, observing the moment to act or remain still and never missing the right time. In speaking or keeping silent, the sage is one and the same.

Sectional Commentary: The sage cultivates the self through the Dao, removes what is false and corrupt, and sets an example for later students. These seven forms of goodness arise because, within a single practice, the myriad spirits naturally turn toward goodness.

Third concluding point: Softness and weakness leave no fault

Precisely because there is no contention, there is no blame: Because one does not contend, one incurs no resentment or reproach—that is, no fault or censure.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Imperial Commentary: A person of the highest goodness keeps an open mind and responds to all things. This is like the nature of water: when blocked, it stops; when released, it flows. It never goes against things, and so leaves no room for resentment or calamity to arise.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Fault” refers to errors and grievances. The Perfected Person acts well without harming things, remains open and yielding in order to preserve them, and never competes with others. Like water flowing downstream and adapting to the contours of the land, this person does not go against the myriad things, and so naturally has no cause for fault or resentment.

The Master by the River said: Precisely because it does not contend, water stops when blocked and flows when a channel is opened. It lets others determine its course, and so gives rise to no blame or resentment. This is the nature of water: no one under Heaven resents or blames it.

Yan Zun said: The sage embodies softness and holds to weakness. Though dwelling high, he places himself low. He bears disgrace like the earth and contains filth like the sea. His words accord with others’ hearts, and he places himself behind them. He willingly dwells where others dislike to be. Calm and quiet, he seems to have no thoughts of his own; open and expansive, he seems to have no self. He changes without fixed pattern and flows together with the Dao. In setting aside the self and letting things take their course, nothing surpasses water. If an emperor embodies this and applies it to governance, his De is subtle and profound. What could anyone blame him for?

Rong Yidao said: Water is without intention. When people can empty themselves and refrain from contending with things, they are following the natural Dao.

Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary: “Precisely because” has the same meaning as in the earlier explanation: only water and the sage make noncontention their strength. They are open, yielding, and compliant, and therefore free of fault.

Brief Background: This section belongs to the commentaries on Chapter Eight of the Dao De Jing, “The highest goodness is like water,” and the line “Precisely because it does not contend, it is free of blame.” The commentators share an emphasis on not contending, dwelling low, yielding to things, and emptying oneself—qualities that link goodness with water. The imperial commentary and subcommentary focus more on governing as an emperor and conducting oneself as a Perfected Person. The Master by the River, Yan Zun, Rong Yidao, and Cheng Xuanying offer complementary views grounded in self-cultivation, the nature of water, and letting things take their course. All explain the same central point: when one does not go against things or compete, resentment and blame have no cause to arise.