《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 3

Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue, Volume Three, Chapter Nine: A Modern Interpretation

This chapter follows directly on the previous chapter’s teaching that “the highest goodness is like water.” Water empties itself to benefit others; this chapter says that ordinary people, when driven by desire to cling and grasp and seek fullness, inevitably bring danger upon themselves. It therefore discusses the way of relinquishing and taking. The chapter has three parts: first, clinging and craving fullness lead to danger; second, wealth and rank accompanied by arrogance invite calamity; third, humility, gentleness, stillness, and withdrawal accord with the Way of Heaven.

1. Clinging and desire often lead to danger

Heaven and Earth are like a great furnace: when the work of transformation is complete, the myriad forms emerge. The sage uses this to offer a warning, pointing out what we should guard against and urging us to remain still and withdraw, in order to attain depth and insight.

The moon keeps its constant brightness, never straying from the measure of waxing and waning. Even mountains and rivers, though deep and towering, are subject to collapse and drying up. How much less should a fragile human body dare to cling to fullness and try to preserve it? People plant their feet in the realm of sights and sounds, and indulge their desires in the struggle between self and others. Even if the seed of goodness drifts by, without awareness it goes unseen; even if evil intentions stand openly before us, they remain secure as long as we are still subject to outflows. The wailing infant cries out, appealing to the Three Palaces; the bones of the dead lie scattered and exposed, passing through the Nine Springs without knowing it. That foolish people can live their whole lives in such delusion, heedless of the true words, is truly pitiable.

2. “To hold it and fill it is not as good as to stop”—commentaries from various writers

Imperial Commentary by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang: To hold something until it is full is to try to keep it from tipping over and being lost. Accumulating wealth becomes a burden and is bound to bring regret and trouble, so it is better to stop.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Hold” means to grasp and keep; “full” means filled to capacity; “stop” means to cease. The human heart greedily loves and takes without satisfaction. It grasps and preserves things until they are full, accumulating wealth as a burden; regret and trouble are bound to follow. Therefore the sage warns: it is better to stop.

Heshang Gong: “Full” means filled; “stop” means to cease. To hold on to fullness is bound to end in a fall, so it is better to stop.

Yan Junping: To defile oneself by following the crowd and amass wealth by chasing the trends of the time: the more heavily one accumulates wealth, the more one’s spirit is depleted. Since the accumulation of riches brings trouble and calamity, it is better to stop before reaching fullness.

Li Rong: The meaning is the same: greedy accumulation depletes the spirit and brings calamity, so one should stop.

Notes on terms:

• “Three Palaces” and “Nine Springs” are metaphors for the heavenly bureaucracy and the underworld in Daoist and popular beliefs.
• “Outflows” are the forces of desire and grasping that still bind a person, who has not yet attained freedom from them.
• Collected Commentaries refers to Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s commentary on the Dao De Jing, Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary, and Qiang Siqi’s compilation of the views of various writers, including Heshang Gong, Yan Junping, and Li Rong.

This scripture passage expounds the principle that "pride invites loss while humility receives benefit." The ancients observed a vessel called the "tilting vessel" (qiqi) that would overturn when filled to the brim, serving as a metaphor for how arrogance, extravagance, and self-indulgence inevitably lead to downfall. To avoid failure, one must maintain an attitude of humility and caution.

The text employs vivid analogies to illustrate this truth: Overly sharpened swords are more prone to breakage, just as individuals who flaunt their abilities and constantly seek prominence ultimately find it difficult to preserve themselves. Like a house overflowing with gold and jewels that attracts thieves, those who combine wealth with pride are certain to encounter misfortune.

Various commentators' interpretations are presented: Some view this as warning against excessive pursuit of fame and profit (Imperial Commentary), others note how greed invites disaster (Imperial Subcommentary). Master Heshang Gong observes that deliberately accumulated possessions will ultimately be abandoned. Cheng Xuanying's commentary offers particularly profound insight: When one sharpens their mind in greedy pursuit of gain, it cuts deeper than any sword wound—how can one surrounded by so many enemies endure long?

From a health cultivation perspective (Jiejie interpretation), unrestrained speech leads to conflict, while dissipated spirit accelerates aging. The passage concludes by revisiting the "hall filled with gold and jade"典故 (allusion), emphasizing how elephants are killed for their precious tusks—similarly, insatiable greed attracts calamity rather than preserving wealth. From an alchemical perspective (Jiejie interpretation), "gold and jade" symbolically represent the body's vital essences (Jing and Qi), reminding practitioners of the necessity for temperance.

Excessive pursuit of desires harms the spirit, while hoarding excessive wealth burdens the body. Like gold, jade, jewels, fame and power—these things relate to human body and mind like ice cannot coexist with fire. Fame and power pollute the spirit; wealth and profit damage the body. What should nourish the spirit becomes contaminated, what should sustain the body becomes impaired—this is why those who chase success most fervently often meet failure. Wealth appears to sustain life yet actually depletes one's vital Qi (vital energy), ultimately becoming impossible to retain.

Gold and silver treasures have no feet yet vanish on their own; floods and fires cannot be stopped; thieves cannot be fully guarded against. Thus greedy accumulation violates heavenly principle, while understanding wealth dispersal aligns with the great Dao (the Way). Excessive desires exhaust the spirit; excessive wealth wearies the body—when both are depleted, one cannot preserve possessions. Moreover, hoarding without dispersal inevitably invites disaster, creating inner anxiety while requiring constant external vigilance, until both person and wealth are lost.

Arrogance during wealth and nobility invites misfortune upon oneself. The wealthy should aid the poor; the noble should show compassion to the humble—those who instead become domineering will surely meet calamity. "Wealth without arrogance" sounds simple yet proves difficult—the higher one's status, the more inflated one's pride becomes. Like holding a torch: the brighter it shines, the faster it burns away—how can one not be cautious?

Disasters all sprout from within, never imposed from without. Those enjoying wealth and nobility should help others; failure to remain humble while growing more arrogant invites self-destruction. Those obsessed with wealth and status who refuse cultivation cannot even retain their official positions and money after death. Even mountains of accumulated wealth—what benefit do they truly bring? Ultimately, one cannot escape bodily death and the erasure of reputation.

The true heavenly Dao (the Way) lies in humility, gentleness, purity and yielding. Achieving merit and fame yet knowing when to withdraw—this aligns with nature's patterns.

This passage discusses the teaching of “When the work is done, withdraw” in Chapter Nine of the Dao De Jing, and why Chapter Ten, “Carrying the Body and Soul,” follows it. Below, the explanations offered by the Imperial Commentary, the Imperial Subcommentary, Heshang Gong, Rong’s Commentary, and Cheng’s Subcommentary are brought together in plain language.

When the work is done, withdraw: the Dao of Heaven’s fullness and decline

After one’s work is complete and one’s name is established, one should withdraw and leave the height of one’s success. Heaven’s Dao alternates between fullness and emptiness, waxing and waning of its own accord. To avoid bringing trouble upon oneself, one should follow its example.

The Imperial Subcommentary says this is a warning: fullness brings loss, while humility brings benefit. Even Heaven’s Dao does not remain full forever. Those who have completed their work may see their reputation ruined; those whose names are established may find their persons diminished. No one has ever secured lasting preservation simply by clinging to one’s position. One should forget one’s achievements and reputation, withdraw, and leave the height of one’s success. By following Heaven’s Dao, which does not depart from the alternation of fullness and emptiness, one can avoid blame and worry.

Heshang Gong says that when people accomplish their aims and establish their reputations but do not withdraw or yield their positions, they invite harm. This is the constant way of Heaven: the sun shifts after reaching its zenith, the moon wanes when full, things decline when they flourish, and joy turns to sorrow when taken to excess.

Rong’s Commentary says that Yin and Yang take turns, and cold and warmth give way to one another. This is the natural order of things and the constant Dao of Heaven. If one greedily clings to honor and refuses to withdraw, danger and ruin are sure to follow. The Second Masters—those who understood that it was time to withdraw after completing their work and establishing their names—recognized the right moment; the Four Elders of Shangshan chose to depart for good. Both understood the patterns of things and accorded with Heaven’s Dao.

Cheng’s Subcommentary explains that “Heaven” means nature. The sun declines after reaching its zenith, and the moon wanes when full; after waning, it must grow full again, and what reaches an extreme reverses. This is the pattern of things. Therefore, those who have completed their service to the world and established their names through wealth and rank must know their limits and be content, remaining humble, gentle, still, and withdrawn. By taking a place where they do not contend, they can avoid harm and preserve themselves. In doing so, they accord deeply with the true Dao. “When the work is done and the name established” means withdrawing from public life, concealing one’s actions, and following what is natural.

Chapter Ten, “Carrying the Body and Soul”: why it follows Chapter Nine

“Carrying the Body and Soul” is the title of Chapter Ten. It follows directly after the previous chapter because that chapter only briefly addressed the harm of pride and the virtue of humility and withdrawal; it did not fully explain the methods of cultivation. Chapter Ten is therefore added to set out in greater detail the sequence of inner and outer practice.

The chapter’s meaning has three parts: first, restraining the hun and po souls and holding to the One, which belongs to inner cultivation; second, setting out broadly the practices of governing the state and benefiting the people; and third, describing the beauty of realizing the Dao and forgetting one’s achievements.

First section: restraining the hun and po souls, holding to the One (inner cultivation)

Rare trees flourish and forest flowers bloom brightly because their roots are deep and firm, and nourishing rain moistens them. People are the same: they must nourish their hun and po souls and preserve their harmonious Qi. This section discusses inner cultivation: how to restrain the hun and po souls and hold to the One without letting it go.

By nourishing oneself with humility and accomplishing things together through gentleness and modesty; by facing the hardship of coming and going without fear as rain and snow fall in profusion; by heeding the crowing of roosters and adding diligent practice from dawn till night. One must bring the body and its ethereal souls into harmony and calm, and not let the mind and spirit scatter. Know that Prince Jin mastered the white crane and soared through the clouds; only then did he understand how Qin Gao rode a red carp across the Milky Way. To spend a long time managing worldly affairs on another’s behalf while abandoning the true teaching is a painful departure from where the Great Dao lies. How dim-witted the foolish man is.

Bearing the ethereal souls, embracing the One, can you keep them from departing?

Commentary by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang

When a person is first born, the first thing to take shape is the Po. Once the Po has formed, Yang Qi fills it, and it becomes the Hun. The Po belongs to Yin and tends toward emptiness; the Hun belongs to Yang and tends toward fullness. A person bears and protects this insubstantial Po, while allowing Yang Qi to fill it so that it becomes the Hun. The Hun can move, and only then can life be preserved. The One means being undivided and undisturbed. To restore Yang and preserve life, one must not be corrupted by mixture; therefore, one must hold fast to purity and single-mindedness. Can you keep them from departing from this body?

Imperial Subcommentary

Bearing means beginning and carrying; nourishing means protecting and sustaining. At the beginning of life, a person has only the insubstantial image of the Po. After birth, Yang Qi fills this insubstantial Po, and when the Po can move, it is called the Hun—just as the moon’s Po gives off light when illuminated by the sun. Thus Zichan says in the Spring and Autumn Annals: “At the beginning of human life, what takes shape is called Po. Once the Po has formed, Yang is called Hun.” When a person first bears this insubstantial Po, they must protect Yang Qi and keep it full at all times; then life is preserved. If one acts without constancy and dissipates Yang Qi, it again becomes an insubstantial Po, and one dies. Zhuangzi says: “When the heart is near death, do not let it return to Yang.” Thus one must protect the insubstantial Po and restore Yang to preserve life, hold fast to undivided purity without allowing contamination, and keep it from departing the body; then life is preserved. This chapter teaches nourishing the spirit.

Commentary of Heshang Gong

Bearing the ethereal souls: Nourishing means the Hun. A person depends on the Hun and Po residing above to live, and should cherish and nurture them. Joy and anger harm the Hun; sudden fright harms the Po. The Hun resides in the liver, and the Po in the lungs. Fine wine and rich food decay the liver and lungs. When the Hun is still, one’s resolve follows the Dao without confusion; when the Po is at peace, one gains longevity.

Embracing the One, can you keep it from departing? If a person can embrace the One and keep it from leaving the body, they will endure for a long time. The One is the essence of Great Harmony first generated by the Dao, and so it is called the One. Its name is spread throughout the world: Heaven obtains the One and becomes clear; Earth obtains the One and becomes tranquil; princes and kings obtain the One and become upright. Within, it enters as the heart; outwardly, it emerges as speech.

General Meaning of the Scripture

“Can you carry and tend the hun and po, embracing the One, and keep them from separating?”

Can you protect and settle the hun and po, holding fast to the One—the Way of undivided unity—and keep them from drifting apart?

“Can you concentrate your Qi and attain softness, becoming like an infant?”

Can you focus and harmonize your vital energy until body and mind are supple, like an infant without distinctions or attachments?

“Can you cleanse and clear your dark mirror, leaving it without flaw?”

Can you wash away distracting thoughts and observe with a mysterious, subtle mind, so that no fault or blemish remains?

Explanations by Various Commentators

Imperial Commentary of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang

“Distributing and extending becomes application; taken together, it is called the One.” The “One” means devoting oneself to unity, with no second thought.

“Carrying and tending the hun and po”: “Carrying” means moving and sustaining; what is tended is the po, the spirit within the body. The “One” refers to the Dao. The person is the vessel of the spirit, hence the expression “carrying the body.” When the mind is clear, the hun and po are at peace; when it is clouded, the true spirit withdraws. One protects the spirit through thoughts untouched by defilement—this is called “tending.” With a settled mind free of attachment, one is “One.” When wisdom accords with the Dao and spirit remains with form, they do not separate.

Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary

“Carrying and tending the hun and po”: “Carrying” means moving and sustaining. The hun is the Yang spirit, inclined to lead people toward goodness; the po is the Yin spirit, inclined to lead them toward evil. The hun is restless and fond of life, while the po clings to life and death. The hun’s nature is vigorous and readily stirred by joy and anger; the po’s nature is yielding and readily stirred by fear. Fear, joy, and anger all damage the spirit. At the beginning of cultivating the Dao, one must first restrain the hun and control the po, keeping them from wandering off.

“Embracing the One and keeping them from separating”: To embrace is to hold fast. The One is the spirit of the Three Ones—Jing, Qi, and Shen. Once the hun is restrained and the po controlled, one must then safeguard the spirit of the Three Ones, remaining empty, still, and even, so that it does not disperse.

Imperial Commentary: “Concentrate your Qi and attain softness”

Can you focus the harmonious Qi and attain gentleness, like an infant without distinctions?

Imperial Subcommentary

“Concentrate” means to focus; “Qi” is the subtle, harmonious vital energy. At birth, people take harmonious Qi as their foundation. When they become tainted by the world of dust, this Qi disperses and the spirit is no longer stable. Thus the teaching urges people to focus and harmonize their Qi, attaining softness like an infant, with no attachments. This is instruction in nourishing Qi.

Heshang Gong

“Concentrate your Qi and attain softness”: When you concentrate your Jing and Qi without letting them become disordered, the body can become supple in turn. Can you be like an infant? If, like an infant, you have no thoughts within and no worldly concerns without, the spirit will not depart.

Rong’s Commentary

When the mind is wholly centered on the body, it becomes pure and harmonious, without dispersion. Concentrate the Qi and attain the Way of long life; thereby attain softness. Before knowing the union of Yin and Yang, one has no feelings of right and wrong. Can you be like an infant?

Cheng’s Subcommentary

“Concentrate” means to focus the essence; Qi is the Dao; “attain” means to reach. Softness means gentleness and suppleness. By focusing completely on the Qi of the Dao, one reaches the principle of harmony and softness, and becomes like an infant without desires.

Imperial Commentary: “Cleanse and clear the dark mirror”

The “dark mirror” is the mind’s inner illumination; “flaw” means an affliction. Cleanse the defilements from the mind’s inner illumination so that it is without blemish.

(The general sense of later explanations, including Cheng’s, of “dark mirror” and “flaw” is that one sweeps away the dust within the mind and observes with a mysterious, still mind, thereby avoiding faults in one’s cultivation.)

Notes

• Ying and po / hun and po: Traditionally, the hun is associated with Yang and the po with Yin; both are connected to the mind and spirit as well as the physical body.
• Embracing the One: Holding to unity without division, often linked to the Dao or to the Three Ones—Jing, Qi, and Shen.
• Concentrating Qi and attaining softness: From chapter ten of the Dao De Jing, this refers to practices of inner cultivation and maintaining softness.
• The dark mirror: Observing with a subtle, empty, and still mind, without being turned by external things.

Explanatory Readings of Passages from Collected Annotations on the Mysterious Virtue of the True Classic of the Way and Virtue

“Cleanse and clear the mysterious mirror: can you be free of flaws?” (Cultivating the mind)

The imperial commentary, in brief:

“Cleanse” means washing away impurities and setting thoughts in order. The “mysterious mirror” refers to the mind as a mirror, reflecting one’s nature. “Flaws” are a metaphor for faults arising from greed and attachment. When people are entangled by external things, their minds are easily stirred and desires arise. They should therefore cleanse the mind and put their feelings and intentions in order at all times, keeping the mind as clear as a mirror and desires from arising. Only then can they be “free of flaws.” This passage concerns cultivating the mind.

Heshang Gong says:

To cleanse distracting thoughts and preserve the mysterious mirror, one must purify the mind. When the mind is quiet and clear, it can illuminate all things; this is called the mysterious mirror. To be free of flaws means that the mind is neither lustful nor corrupted by desires.

Rong Gong says:

Use the mysterious Dao to cleanse the mind, and the breeze of purity to disperse its burdens. Let the inner and outer be perfectly clear, like clean water and a bright mirror; let the inner and outer be upright and luminous, like flawless pearls and jade.

The Cheng commentary says:

“Cleanse” means to wash; “remove” means to dispel; “view” means to observe. Only by cleansing the six internal organs, dispelling disturbances from the five emotions, and keeping Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) empty and still can one contemplate the wondrous principle and be clear and tranquil within and without, free of flaws.

The theme of the second section: Broadly presenting the conduct that governs the state and benefits the people

“In caring for the people and governing the state, can you practice Wuwei (non-action)?”

The imperial commentary:

Can you care for and nurture the people and govern the state through Wuwei? Yes: the people will transform themselves. The earlier passages, from “bearing the body and embracing the soul” through “cleansing and clearing the mysterious mirror,” concern self-cultivation. Only after cultivating oneself and completing one’s De (Virtue/Power) is one fit to be a ruler and govern the state.

The imperial subcommentary:

To care for the people means not letting them die prematurely, overburdening them with labor, or harming their lives. To govern the state means valuing farming, keeping affairs simple and avoiding needless burdens, so that each person can live in peace. Rather than relying on elaborate government measures and commands, one influences people naturally: this is Wuwei. Can it be done? Yes.

Heshang Gong says:

Those who cultivate themselves “cherish Qi” and thereby keep their bodies whole; those who govern the state “care for the people” and thereby keep the state secure. Can one be “without contrivance”? In self-cultivation, regulate the breath and Jing (essence and vital energy), and do not let what is heard disturb you from outside. In governing, extend De and beneficence without letting those below perceive that you are deliberately “acting.”

Rong Gong says:

If those in authority cannot transform themselves, they must use instruction to help others transform themselves. In managing people and affairs, quietude is essential. Active, restless intervention harms things and disturbs the people; Wuwei and quietude are what true care for the people requires.

The Cheng commentary says:

The earlier passages discuss benefiting oneself and perfecting the Dao; this one turns to engaging with others and benefiting them, beginning with governing the state and caring for the people. “Discrimination” belongs to cleverness and contrivance. Compassionately protecting and nurturing the people is what it means to care for them; establishing policies and guiding people through transformation is what it means to govern the state. To govern, one should model simplicity and purity, teach Wuwei, block wickedness and deceit, and avoid clever distinctions. In this way, one can “govern through Wuwei.”

Brief explanations of technical terms:

The “mysterious mirror” is the mind in a quiet, clear state, reflecting things like a mirror. “The body and soul” refers to the Hun (Yang soul) and Po (Yin soul), and to the preservation of spirit and bodily Qi. The “six internal organs” and “five emotions” traditionally refer to the viscera and to desires associated with the senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Wuwei means not acting recklessly or forcing things, but allowing transformation in accordance with their nature. In the context of governing, it often means limiting private schemes and excessive regulation and punishment, while valuing agriculture and keeping government simple.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of the Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Classic of the Dao and De

[Continuation from the previous passage]

In this way, the simple customs of “striking the earth and singing” can return, and the simple form of government and teaching known as “governing by tying knots” can once again be admired. The text therefore continues:

To govern a state by cleverness is to make it a threat; to govern a state without cleverness is to bring it De.

The Gate of Heaven Opens and Closes: Can You Be the Feminine?

Imperial Commentary (commentary by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang)

The “Gate of Heaven” is the source of the imperial cycle of succession and the Mandate of Heaven. “Opening and closing” refers to the rise and fall of order and disorder. The meaning is that when a ruler receives the Mandate at its appointed time, only by keeping to the feminine and remaining still can they enjoy Heaven’s favor for a long time.

Another interpretation

The Book of Changes says: “Always avoid prevailing through the masculine; keep to the feminine.” This is like the Gate of Heaven opening and closing, with loss and fullness balancing one another and enriching what is humble.

Imperial Subcommentary

Cultivating De makes one fit to be a ruler; being a ruler requires inheriting the imperial cycle of succession. The Gate of Heaven is the source of that cycle. “Opening” means receiving the Mandate; “closing” means being deposed. Heaven bestows its precious Mandate to grant good fortune to those who possess the Dao. One who can keep to the feminine and yield to softness may enjoy great good fortune. Hence the question: “Can you be the feminine?”

Another interpretation

The Book of Changes says, “One closing and one opening are called change.” The sages establish teachings and adapt constantly to change. They do not prevail through the masculine, but keep to the feminine. This is also like the Gate of Heaven opening and closing, with loss and fullness giving rise to humility.

Commentary by Heshanggong

The Gate of Heaven opening and closing: the Gate of Heaven refers to the Purple Palace at the North Pole; opening and closing refer to beginnings and endings, and to the Five Turning Points—the stages of dynastic change. In cultivating the self, the Gate of Heaven refers to the nostrils: opening is exhalation, and closing is inhalation. “Can you be the feminine?” In self-cultivation, one should be like the female: calm, still, and yielding. In governing a state, one should adapt to change, harmonize with others, and avoid being the first to make a claim.

Rongzi (Rong Yidao)

Heaven has four seasonal gates: the Green Gate opens and brings warmth, the Red Gate opens and brings heat, the White Gate opens and brings cold, and the Black Gate opens and brings chill. Ordinary people complain about the summer heat, the rain, and the bitter cold; this shows that they cannot remain calm. Closing means shutting. When one gate opens and the other three remain shut, this is the stillness of the feminine. The sage’s spirit is gathered in the Great Void, and his wisdom is quiet in the empty mystery. Death and life, adversity and good fortune cannot startle him; water and fire, cold and heat cannot move him.

Subcommentary by Cheng Xuanying

Closing means shutting; the feminine means stillness. The opening and closing of Heaven and Earth refer to the formation and destruction of cosmic cycles. The sage blends into the midst of Heaven and Earth and is untouched by the Three Calamities. Even as cycles rise and fall, his mind remains empty and still. Thus the Zhuangzi says: “Though a great flood reaches the sky, he does not drown; though a severe drought melts metal and stone and scorches the hills, he does not grow hot.”

Clear and Bright in All Four Directions: Can You Be Without Knowing?

Imperial Commentary

When a ruler can embody the feminine and remain still, the people gladly commend their De. The ruler is clear in all four directions and understands everything without obstruction, yet does not flaunt knowledge or rely on cleverness. This is what is meant by “Can you be without knowing?”

Note: This chapter brings together the imperial commentary and subcommentary of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, along with interpretations by Heshanggong, Rong Yidao, Cheng Xuanying, and others. They explain such phrases from the Dao De Jing as “the Gate of Heaven,” “the feminine,” and “clear and bright in all four directions” from several perspectives, including governance, self-cultivation, dynastic succession, adapting to change, and remaining still. Terms such as “the Gate of Heaven” (the source of the Mandate of Heaven or the imperial cycle of succession, or the Purple Palace at the North Pole), “the female” (yielding and non-contentious), and the “Five Turning Points” (historical stages in Han dynasty divination) carry somewhat different meanings in different commentaries. The translation presents these interpretations side by side without forcing them into a single reading.

Plain-language interpretation

“Clear and bright like the sun shining in all four directions, one must still forget one’s achievements and refrain from controlling others. Hence it says, ‘Can one be without knowing?’”

Imperial commentary: Once an emperor has received Heaven’s Mandate and its appointed cycle, and governs all under Heaven, if he can hold to the yielding and remain still, his De becomes as clear as sunlight reaching in all four directions. He bestows merit and virtue on all things without claiming credit for it. This is what is meant by forgetting one’s achievements, as though one were without knowledge. Hence it says, “Can one be without knowing?”

Commentary of the Lord of the River: “Clear and bright in all directions” means that the Dao is as clear as the sun and moon, reaching everywhere and filling the world, even beyond the eight limits. Hence it says: one looks but does not see it, listens but does not hear it, yet it shines forth in all ten directions, radiant and brilliant. “Can one be without knowing?” No one can know how it fills all under Heaven.

Rong’s commentary: The sage’s wisdom encompasses all things; his brightness equals that of the two luminaries, illuminating all four directions. This is what is meant by reaching everywhere. He illuminates yet remains still, shines without dazzling. He lets go of conscious awareness and blends his mind with the whole. Can he be without knowing?

Commentary of Cheng: “Bright” names the capacity to illuminate; “clear” describes purity and simplicity. “Four” means the four directions, and “reach” means unobstructed. The sage’s empty wisdom is clear and bright, and his wondrous understanding reaches the hidden depths. Nothing lies beyond the light of his wisdom, and no realm is beyond his reach. The text briefly names the four directions to make clear that he reaches even the eight limits. Moreover, he remains still yet can respond, so he reaches everywhere; in responding, he does not depart from stillness and remains constantly in Wuwei (non-action).

Another interpretation: “Reach everywhere” means reaching the Three Realms and the realm of the Dao.

“It gives life and nurtures; it gives life without possessing, acts without relying on its achievements, leads without ruling. This is called profound De.”

Imperial commentary: It allows each thing to fulfill its life and nurtures it. It allows life to unfold without claiming ownership, cultivates action without relying on its achievements, and occupies a leading position without acting as ruler. When a ruler can do this, it is called profound De.

Imperial subcommentary: “It gives life and nurtures”—a later passage says, “The Dao gives life to them; De nurtures them.” Here it says, “It gives life and nurtures.” This means that when a ruler governs through the Dao with purity and stillness, things can fulfill their lives. By following the natural order, he extends De and helps all things, allowing each to receive the nurture it needs. Hence it says, “It gives life and nurtures.”

“It gives life without possessing, acts without relying on its achievements, leads without ruling: this is called profound De”—When things can fulfill their lives, the sage forgets his own accomplishments and actions. When life unfolds, its own order is complete; when achievements are forgotten, their effects remain whole. This is to accomplish what is one’s own by being selfless, and to rule by refraining from ruling.

“Gives life without possessing” means allowing each thing to fulfill its life without the ruler claiming it as his own.

“Acts without relying on its achievements” means allowing each…

This passage elucidates the profound meaning of "Mysterious Virtue" (Xuande). Those who have truly attained the Dao (the Way) act without claiming credit for their deeds. Though they stand above the masses, they never presume themselves to be rulers. This constitutes the most profound Virtue (De).

Heshang Gong (a renowned Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) explains: The Dao gives birth to and nurtures all things without possessing them, bestows blessings without seeking repayment, and fosters all beings without dominating them. This Virtue is so profound that it cannot be perceived with physical eyes, yet it serves as the ideal all should emulate.

Yan Junping (a Han Dynasty Daoist thinker) further elaborates: Without possession, without claiming merit, without domination—letting Heaven and Earth operate spontaneously. By distancing from superficiality and returning to authenticity, misfortunes naturally recede while blessings naturally arrive. This Virtue silently nourishes all things equally and impartially, so profound it defies measurement.

Cheng Xuanying (a Tang Dynasty Daoist master) supplements: Sages emulate the Dao's nurturing Virtue, teaching people through simple naturalness. They nurture without possessing, act without claiming merit, and guide without dominating—this state of forgetting one's virtue is precisely "Mysterious Virtue." The highest Virtue is not recognizing itself as virtuous, hence it becomes true Virtue. This state of forgotten virtue is so profoundly unfathomable that it's called "Mysterious" (Xuan).

The passage concludes by praising this sublime state of forgotten merit: Sages silently create and transform all things, merging completely with nature. This Virtue is so profoundly exalted that it deserves to be called the highest form of Virtue.

(Note: This chapter connects with Chapter 11's "Thirty spokes share one hub," where the previous chapter discusses how sages act without claiming credit for their accomplishments.)

Laozi uses the metaphor of cart-making to illustrate the interdependent relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu). The thirty spokes all connect to the hub at the wheel's center, yet it is precisely the empty space within that allows the cart to rotate and function. Here, three concrete objects demonstrate how being and non-being give rise to each other.

Constructing a cart requires tangible components (shaft, carriage, etc.), but what truly enables its movement is the emptiness at its core. Without physical parts, the emptiness would serve no purpose; conversely, without that central void, the solid components would become useless. This mirrors the fundamental principle governing all things between heaven and earth—the Dao (cosmic origin) is both ultimate emptiness and unified wholeness, thereby driving the operation of all phenomena.

When Qian (Heaven) and Kun (Earth) take form, the principles of the Yijing (Book of Changes) manifest; as the myriad things flow and transform, the function of the Dao becomes evident. Laozi employs concrete "being" to clarify the role of "non-being," just as the wheel's emptiness gives value to its solid parts. The Yellow Emperor (Xuanyuan) once grasped the great Dao through this insight, yet the Han dynasty rulers failed to comprehend its truth. This principle was recorded on white tablets in the Purple Tenuity Palace (a Daoist celestial realm), surpassing ordinary scriptures.

If cultivators cling to superficial appearances—mistaking the illusory body for the true self or fixating on the wheel's solid parts while overlooking the marvel of its emptiness—they will lose their way. Only by truly understanding how being and non-being mutually generate each other can one dispel delusion and apprehend the profound mystery of the Dao.

This scripture elucidates the wondrous function of "emptiness" through metaphors of a wheel hub and pottery. Ancient chariot wheels had thirty spokes (symbolizing the thirty days of a month), all converging upon the hollow hub at the center. It is precisely the emptiness within the hub that enables the wheel to turn; the emptiness of the carriage allows it to carry people and goods. Practitioners of the Dao must cleanse themselves of desires and empty their five viscera so that the divine spirit (Shen) may dwell within; rulers should emulate the wheel hub by gathering the strength of the people.

The same principle applies to pottery-making: the potter kneads clay to form vessels, and it is precisely because the vessels are hollow inside that they can hold contents. These metaphors illustrate the interdependent relationship between "being" (form) and "non-being" (emptiness)—textual teachings represent "being," while the profound principles they contain represent "non-being." Teachings require principles to be illuminated, and principles must manifest through teachings. Just as chariots and pottery are provisional names arising from conditioned existence, careful contemplation reveals their fundamentally illusory nature—and so it is with all phenomena in the world.

If Dao practitioners can maintain a mind of luminous emptiness, they can ferry sentient beings across like an empty carriage carrying passengers. These metaphors collectively demonstrate that seemingly useless emptiness is precisely the key to great function.

This scripture employs the metaphors of pottery-making and house-building to expound the Daoist principle of "being (you) and non-being (wu) generating each other."

When crafting pottery, one must blend clay (zhi) with water (shan) and fire it to create a useful vessel. The crucial point lies in the vessel's hollow center—only through this emptiness can it hold contents. This mirrors how Dao practitioners must maintain inner emptiness to accommodate the wisdom of all things.

In constructing a dwelling, one must carve out doors and windows (huyou). It is precisely these "empty" spaces that enable the house to serve its purpose of habitation. Ancient people initially lived in caves (taoxue), until sages invented palaces and houses, with the key principle being the preservation of interior void. Zhuangzi remarked that if a house lacked space, mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law would quarrel over passage (boxi). This illustrates the relationship between "being" (walls) and "non-being" (space): the function of solid forms (you) depends on emptiness (wu) for realization, while the role of emptiness (wu) must rely on solid forms (you) for manifestation.

Heshang Gong further explains: Doors and windows connect a house's interior and exterior, allowing people to enter, exit, and dwell. If a cultivator's heart-mind remains darkened (anmei) with senses blocked (longgu), it resembles a windowless house that cannot comprehend the Dao. Cheng Xuanying adds that the transparency of windows mirrors how practitioners should maintain spiritual openness (genqiao xutong), enabling engagement with myriad things without contamination. The text concludes by noting three objects (likely vessels, dwellings, and carts) all follow this same principle of "mutual dependence between being and non-being."

Through common objects, this passage vividly illustrates the profound truth in the Daode Jing's wheel analogy ("Thirty spokes converge at the hub; it is the emptiness that makes the cart useful"), emphasizing how cultivation requires embracing emptiness like a valley while harmonizing being and non-being.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Why the Same Point Is Repeated

The same kind of statement appears again because a cart tends toward movement and is not still; a room tends toward stillness and does not move; a vessel involves both movement and stillness. Since these three differ, each point needs to be explained separately.

The Second Meaning: Distinguishing Being and Nonbeing, and Showing How They Reveal and Support One Another

Thus, being provides benefit, while nonbeing provides usefulness.

The Imperial Commentary: When there is substance, its benefit lies in “nonbeing.” If nonbeing takes “nonbeing” as its benefit, but does not take “use” as its substance, then it takes “being” as its use. What is above form is the Dao (the Way); what is below form is a vessel. To explain how the highest Dao functions, one must make it visible through physical form. Thus the benefit of the relatively coarse “being” is used to reveal the subtle function of “nonbeing”—the discussion still concerns the side of “being.”

Heshang Gong: “Being provides benefit”: things benefit from having form and vessels; things are held inside vessels, and people live inside rooms, so they fear the house collapsing and their bodies perishing. “Nonbeing provides usefulness”: only empty space can hold things. This is why it is said that the empty and insubstantial governs formed things. The Dao is empty and without substance.

Rong: If there is only being and no nonbeing, being cannot become beneficial. If there is only nonbeing and no being, nonbeing cannot become useful. This explains that being becomes beneficial through nonbeing, and nonbeing becomes useful through being. Once we understand that being and nonbeing depend on each other, we also understand that the coarse and the subtle support each other.

The Cheng Commentary: Nonbeing becomes beneficial through being, and being becomes useful through nonbeing. These two principles depend on each other; this is how things such as carts and vessels come about. Students of the Dao must use being to support emptiness and emptiness to guide being. When being and nonbeing support and guide each other, the mind should not become attached to either side. This is what it means for a student to make proper use of things.

Next: The Five Colors Blind the Eye (Chapter 12)

(The previous chapter speaks broadly of carts and vessels to show that things formed through dependence are not real in themselves. This chapter turns to color and sound, showing that actual things are illusory and relative.)

The chapter’s meaning has three parts:

First, it shows that sensory objects can impair the senses and should therefore be renounced.

Second, it shows how the senses become stained by sensory objects and urges us to grow still and quiet.

Third, it contrasts the sage’s discipline with the ordinary person’s conduct, showing what to accept and what to reject.

First: Showing that sensory objects impair the senses and should be renounced

The highest Dao is calm and free of attachment; both principle and appearance are still and silent. From the transformation of the One Qi (vital energy), human beings come into being: their heads are rounded to correspond to Heaven, their feet are square to correspond to Earth, their four limbs symbolize the four Qi, and their five organs follow the pattern of … (The discussion continues with the five organs, the senses, and sensory influences. This passage gives the chapter’s opening outline; the rest of the original text is not fully quoted here.)

Note: The Imperial Commentary, Heshang Gong, Rong, and the Cheng Commentary are commentaries by scholars from different historical periods; they have been separated according to who is speaking. Terms such as “above form,” “below form,” “the highest Dao,” and “student of the Dao” have been retained, with brief explanations in parentheses.

Through the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), the eyes and ears can become clear and the mind’s awareness penetrating. Yet one must conceal the signs of deliberate action and return to the source of true purity. How could one race about in restless pursuit?

(To indulge the mind’s desires is to sow the karma of deafness and blindness, leaving one unable to cut through illusion and causing one to act recklessly in all manner of grand affairs. To drive a colored phoenix across the cinnabar terrace and rein in a dark dragon in the blue heavens—to abandon one and take up the other—how could this allow one to remain a True Person for long?)

The five colors blind the eyes; the five tones deafen the ears; the five flavors dull the palate.

Imperial Commentary: When the eyes crave the sight of colors such as blue and yellow, the ears become absorbed in melodies such as gong and zhi, and the mouth craves the flavors of meat and rich foods, excessive injury to their proper measure can leave the body blind, deaf, and unable to distinguish tastes. “Dull” means impaired or out of order.

Imperial Subcommentary: The colors are blue, yellow, red, white, and black; the tones are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu; the flavors are sour, salty, sweet, bitter, and pungent. “Dull” means impaired. The eyes see colors, the ears hear sounds, and the mouth distinguishes flavors. If these are harmed beyond their proper measure, damage is inevitable, and the body becomes blind, deaf, and unable to taste properly. How much more so for those absorbed in the myriad ways of the world, who fail to realize that sound and form are empty in their nature—that sounds and forms are inherently empty and unreal? It is not only the body that becomes blind and deaf; one’s wisdom nature can become blind and deaf as well.

Heshang Gong: The five colors blind the eyes: craving sensual pleasure and beautiful colors injures Jing (essence) and causes loss of sight. The five tones deafen the ears: delighting in the five tones makes harmonious Qi (vital energy) depart, so the mind can no longer hear the sound that has no sound. The five flavors dull the palate: “dull” means deluded and impaired. When people crave the five flavors, their palate becomes impaired and their words stray from the Dao (the Way).

Yan: One who is so absorbed in the changing forms of the five colors that they cannot see the signs of fortune and misfortune has a spike driven into the eyes. One who is so at ease in the changing patterns of the five tones that they cannot hear the sounds of good and ill fortune has a wedge blocking the ears. One who craves the changing flavors so intensely that the mouth can no longer judge what is right and wrong in matters of taste has a blade that severs the tongue.

Rong: Though the eyes can see, indulging endlessly in colors makes them lose their clarity. Though the ears can hear, delighting without pause in wanton sounds makes them lose their hearing. Though the mouth can taste, probing flavors without limit disrupts its nourishment. “Dull” means to lose. Blindness means not seeing; deafness means not hearing. A person with eyes who cannot see is called blind by the True Person and the Great Sage. A person with ears who cannot hear the vast music of the rarefied sound, or the subtle and wondrous numinous tones, is called deaf. The mouth serves to know flavors; if one craves worldly tastes, one loses the taste of the Dao, and so the text says “dull.”

Cheng’s Subcommentary: (This continues the meaning of the five colors, five tones, and five flavors discussed above.)

Plain-Language Explanation

On “The five colors blind the eye”

“The five colors” are blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black. The meaning is that people cannot turn inward to see their true source, but instead chase after the world of external appearances. Though they can see all kinds of colors and think their eyes are not blind, how are they any different from a blind person if they see only forms and do not understand that “form is emptiness”?

On “The five tones deafen the ear”

“The five tones” are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. When the heart becomes absorbed in music and the ear fixates on the notes, one cannot turn inward to listen for the soundless sound; hence the word “deafen.” Zhuangzi also says that deafness and blindness afflict not only the body but the mind’s understanding as well.

On “The five flavors dull the palate”

“The five flavors” are sweet, bitter, sour, pungent, and salty. “Dull” means to fail or become impaired. When one is absorbed in wine and spirits and relishes strong-smelling meats, one can no longer savor profound discourse; hence the palate is said to be “dulled.”

Part Two: When the roots are stained by dust, people are urged to become still

“Racing about and hunting make the heart grow wild”

“Racing about” means rushing from one pursuit to another; “hunting” means hunting in the fields. Becoming absorbed in worldly affairs and fixated on deliberate action is like hunting solely to kill and capture. Zhuangzi says that struggling inwardly day after day and racing after external circumstances, when calmly considered, is a kind of madness.

The Imperial Commentary: Those absorbed in sounds and fixated on colors race after their desires just as hunters pursue their quarry, seeking only to kill and capture. When desire surges and the heart races after external circumstances, calmly observing it reveals the madness.

Heshang Gong: The human spirit prefers stillness. When breath is driven into restless motion, the spirit disperses and is lost; hence the heart grows wild.

Yan Zun: Those who delight in the changing excitement of hunting cannot keep their thoughts free of delusion and madness. Hunting is a teacher of madness and delusion.

Rong Qingjian: Giving oneself over to fishing and hunting led Taikang to lose his livelihood; chasing fame led Zhang Yi to fall ill and die. The loss of a state is the greatest madness.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: “Racing about” means rushing at a gallop. Hunters greedily pursue wild animals, indulging their hearts and abandoning restraint, much like madmen. Those who have turned things upside down chase external circumstances with their desires, rushing like a gallop and wild like hunters. This is the kind of thing Zhuangzi means when he says that people lose their nature in five ways, the first being that “the five colors confuse the eyes and make them unclear,” and so on.

“Rare goods hinder one’s conduct”

The Imperial Commentary: What is absent from one’s allotted nature cannot be obtained by seeking it. Recklessly pursuing rare goods obstructs and harms the course of the Dao.

The Imperial Commentary’s subcommentary: The human body treats its talents and capacities as goods. “Rare goods” refers to things absent from one’s allotted nature and impossible to obtain through seeking. Failing to be content with one’s proper place and forcing one’s nature in reckless pursuit goes against that nature and hinders one’s conduct.

Summary of the main idea

This section draws on the commentators to explain that chasing external sounds, colors, and flavors; racing about and hunting; and coveting rare goods can injure the eyes, deafen the ears, dull the palate, make the heart wild, and obstruct the course of the Dao. The root of all this is the inability to turn inward and see one’s true source, and to quiet the heart’s desires. The passage follows the same line of thought as Laozi’s five statements about the five colors, five tones, five flavors, racing about and hunting, and rare goods.

Here Laozi teaches that excessive pursuit of external material pleasures harms one's spiritual cultivation. Ancient commentators like Heshanggong, Yan Junping, and Rong Zhao all observed that rare treasures—gold, jewels, beautiful objects—breed insatiable greed that ultimately damages both body and virtue. These things act like poison, disturbing the heart-mind and obstructing the path to Dao.

Thus, the attitude of sages (those who have attained Dao) is to focus on inner cultivation ("nourishing the belly") rather than chasing sensory pleasures ("not indulging the eyes"). The "belly" symbolizes an inclusive, non-discriminating inner state that maintains harmony, while "eyes" represent the senses that become deluded by external beauty and damage one's innate nature. Specifically:

Sages preserve the Five Constant Virtues (humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness) within, restrain the Six Emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, love, and hate), and nurture spiritual wisdom. They avoid scattering their vital essence (Jing) by indiscriminately pursuing external objects with their gaze. Instead, they:

1. Perceive formless colors ("the hue of the hue-less")

2. Listen to soundless music ("the tone of the tone-less")

3. Savor flavorless tastes ("the taste of the taste-less")

4. Roam boundless realms ("the realm of the realm-less")

5. Employ formless wisdom ("the net of the net-less") to comprehend the Great Dao

This is the cultivation method of "empty heart yet substantial within"—a mind seemingly void yet filled with Dao's power ("nourishing the belly"), not blindly chasing externals ("not indulging the eyes"). One must discard worldly pursuits that create burdens to attain the wisdom of governing through non-action (Wuwei). Through inner vision and listening to one's original heart-mind—turning the senses inward—one achieves a state of pure, luminous emptiness.