《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 4

Collected Explanations of the Mysterious De in the True Classic of the Dao and De, Volume Four, Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: “Favor and Disgrace Are Both Alarming”

Chapter overview: Continuing from the previous chapter, this chapter explains that all things, including the sense objects and their corresponding perceptions, are fundamentally unreal. It therefore shows that the body, far from being a source of glory and splendor, is the root of affliction. The chapter has three parts: first, it states generally that favor and disgrace, honor and trouble, are no different; second, it poses a question to explain why this is so; third, it weighs the gains and losses involved in honor and attachment.

First: Stating Generally That Favor and Disgrace, Honor and Trouble, Are No Different

The Most High Lord Lao says: In this age, the highest honor is none greater than the ninth rank and fifth position; as for the places where people meet their deaths, there are only thirteen. He opens up the two paths of favor and disgrace to show that living beings do not awaken to the truth. Their households are illustrious, their great hats and long swords mark them as powerful men; they eagerly seek rank and salary, displaying swords at their waists and tassels hanging in splendor. How could they know that once their meritorious rank is secured, their whole clan may soon be wiped out? Thus Huo Guang’s worries arose from a thorn in his pillow, while Yang Yun’s calamity came from the beans and their stalks. Lord Lao sternly warns that favor and disgrace should both be alarming. He reflects that we ordinary people fail to see the truth in our own minds: entering the court, we do not value our standing; when we leave and receive favor, we remain at ease. This is why Tian and Dou turned against one another: each clung to the crucial position he held.

Scripture: “Favor and Disgrace Are Both Alarming”

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s imperial commentary: To hold on to favor brings trembling; to let it go brings sorrow. Since one has not forgotten favor and disgrace, both are alarming.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s subcommentary: “As” means “like.” The phrase says that alarm at favor and alarm at disgrace are alike. Holding on to something brings favor; letting it go brings disgrace. This means that people cannot make their minds even toward honor and disgrace. They pride themselves on and pursue achievement and fame: when they grasp power, they take it as a source of glory and favor; when they lose influence, they feel hurt by their low and disgraced position. In glory and favor, they become proud and self-assured; in lowliness and disgrace, they cry out in alarm. Therefore, the text warns them to be equally alarmed, in order to bring them to treat favor and disgrace alike.

Commentary of the Old Man by the River: Being favored in one’s person is alarming; being disgraced in one’s person is also alarming.

Li Rong’s commentary: When one’s office is high, one worries about danger; when one is utterly low, one suffers much shame. Both bring fear.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary: Favor is the name for honor and affection; disgrace is the term for punishment and shame. “As” means “like,” and “alarming” means “fearful.” This means that when people receive favor, then...

A Plain-Language Interpretation

When favored or disgraced, one is shaken; to prize great troubles as one’s own body (when favored or disgraced, one is shaken; to prize great troubles as one’s own body)

When favored or disgraced, one is shaken: When favored, one feels joy; when disgraced, one feels fear. Joy and fear are different, yet both unsettle the heart. Favor and disgrace are not part of one’s true nature. Thus, the realized person regards adversity and success like cold and heat, and honor and disgrace as things that come and go. Life and death do not stir the spirit within; how could high or low status unsettle it?

To prize great troubles as one’s own body: The body is the root of troubles, so to cherish and value it is like prizing great troubles. To let the mind become attached to the body is already a great trouble. Where there is attachment, there is a body; the body itself is a great trouble. Hence the saying, “to prize great troubles as one’s own body.” If one can be free of troubles and also forget the body, one understands that troubles arise from attachment, and that the body is their root.

What is meant by favor and disgrace? Favor is the lower

The text first says, “When favored or disgraced, one is shaken,” fearing that readers may not understand, so it asks, “What is meant by favor and disgrace?” Being favored can lead to arrogance and excess, which often bring trouble. Favor is therefore the root of disgrace; the answer is, “Favor is the lower.”

Explanatory Notes

• When favored or disgraced, one is shaken: When favored, one feels joy; when disgraced, one feels worry and fear. Though joy and fear differ, both unsettle the heart, hence “shaken.” The realized person regards honor and disgrace as things that come and go, and is not moved by high or low status.
• To prize great troubles as one’s own body: To cherish and value the body is like prizing great troubles. The body is the root of troubles; to value the body is to value trouble. Hence the saying, “to prize great troubles as one’s own body.”
• Favor is the lower: Being favored can readily lead to arrogance and excess, bringing trouble. Favor is therefore the root of disgrace: favor is lower, while disgrace is higher.

This passage elucidates the principle of "favor and disgrace" (chongru). It begins with a rhetorical question—what constitutes favor and disgrace?—then proceeds to answer it.

The statement "favor is inferior" (chong wei xia) means that receiving favor actually places one in a lower position. When people gain favor, they tend to become arrogant and complacent, which invites misfortune. Since favor can lead to calamity, it is revealed as the root of disgrace—hence the saying "favor is inferior."

Heshang Gong (a commentator) explains: "Favor" refers to being loved and honored, while "disgrace" means suffering humiliation. The rhetorical question is posed to help people understand this truth. Though favor may appear noble, it is actually base; though disgrace may seem lowly, it carries deeper significance.

Master Rong (another commentator) observes: The phrase "favor is inferior" is raised to illustrate a paradox. Conventionally, favor should occupy a superior position and disgrace an inferior one, but by stating only "favor is inferior," the text implies that disgrace holds the higher ground. Ordinary people crave wealth and status, valuing favor highly, yet the higher one climbs, the greater the danger. Where glory arrives, disgrace follows—thus favor is truly inferior.

Cheng Xuanying (a Tang dynasty exegete) clarifies: This is deliberately framed as a question. One must remain vigilant whether gaining or losing favor. Worldly views are inverted—people esteem favor, but wisdom reveals its inherent baseness. Why? Because both the joy of gaining favor and the fear of losing it stem from the same source ("favor"), proving its inferior nature.

The scripture states: "Gaining it brings alarm, losing it brings alarm—this is called 'favor and disgrace alarm alike.'" This means one should maintain caution whether receiving or forfeiting favor. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (in his imperial commentary) notes: Favor and disgrace cycle endlessly, with favor being the root of disgrace. People often dread disgrace but neglect vigilance toward favor, so the sage warns: When you gain favor, be as wary as if facing disgrace; when you lose favor or encounter disgrace, be as alert as when gaining favor.

The Imperial Commentary (official annotation) elaborates: Gaining constitutes favor, losing constitutes disgrace. "Alarm alike" signifies their cyclical nature—favor breeds disgrace. Ordinary beings rejoice at favor and panic at disgrace. Thus the sage admonishes: Fortune and misfortune intertwine like rope; favor and disgrace have no fixed order—why fear only disgrace? If disgrace warrants caution against calamity, then favor demands equal vigilance against arrogance—both forms of alertness are one.

Heshang Gong adds: "Gaining it brings alarm" means assuming high rank and favor requires trepidation as if standing at a cliff's edge—even in wealth, one must avoid extravagance. "Losing it brings alarm" means that when favor is lost and humiliation endured, one must guard against impending disaster.

“Honor and disgrace are equally startling” (Receiving favor or losing it is equally shocking.)

When calamity or good fortune, honor or disgrace arrives, people become alarmed and unsettled. The Imperial Commentary says: “Receiving favor is startling, and losing favor is startling too.” Ronggong says: “Favor brings honor, while disgrace brings calamity. Gain and loss alike cause alarm. Only the empty, still, and untroubled person remains unmoved; this is what ‘honor and disgrace are equally startling’ means.” The Cheng Commentary says: “This sums up the meaning of ‘honor and disgrace are equally startling.’”

What does it mean to ‘regard the great calamity as one’s own body’?

The Imperial Commentary says: “Fearing that people will not understand that the body is the source of calamity, the text poses this question.” Heshanggong says: “One turns the question back on oneself, and so fears that great calamity will fall upon one’s own body.” Ronggong says: “This is a question.” The Cheng Commentary says: “It is a hypothetical question.”

“The reason I have great calamities is that I have a body.”

The Imperial Commentary says: “The bodily form is illusory and has no reality of its own. Calamity is said to have its source in the body because people cling to the idea that they ‘have a self and a body.’ Pain and itching, cold and heat all affect the body, and so become bodily calamities.” The Imperial Commentary’s subcommentary says: “The reason one has great calamities is attachment to having a body. One delights in honor and despises disgrace, argues over right and wrong, and, when unable to get what one wants, falls into great anxiety and fear. The spirit is drained by desire, and the body is burdened by striving. Is such exhaustion not a calamity?” Heshanggong says: “Great calamity comes from having a body: one must worry and toil, and think about hunger and cold. Indulging one’s desires brings calamity. Having a body means becoming caught up in the afflictions of flourishing and decline, as well as the disasters of life and death; that is why they are called great calamities.” The Cheng Commentary says: “This answers the preceding question. Clinging to one’s body and being unable to let it go, one suffers and grieves on its behalf; this is great calamity. To prize one’s body is no different from having calamity. The Scripture of Ascension to the West says: ‘The body is the root of vexation. Pain and itching, cold and heat: being bound to the body makes clear that it is a great calamity.’”

“When I have no body, what calamity could I have?”

The Imperial Commentary says: “When one knows that Heaven and Earth, and ‘the harmony of nature’ (we and nature’s harmonious unfolding), are not one’s possessions; when one leaves the body behind and abandons knowledge, and understands that the body is not truly a body, becoming one with the Great Dao, what calamity could remain?” The Imperial Commentary’s subcommentary says: “‘Having no body’ means realizing that bodily form is illusory and has no reality of its own. One then practices sitting in oblivion, letting go of awareness, abandoning the body, and setting aside the senses, becoming like the Great Pervasion, without a ruler, and like the harmony of nature, belonging to no self. The paths of honor and disgrace disappear, and the feelings of love and aversion subside. This is to undo the knot that binds the Heavenly Emperor; why, then, remain bound by great calamity? Hence the text says: ‘When I have no body, what calamity could I have?’” Note: “the harmony of nature” comes from the Zhuangzi.

This passage primarily discusses the Daoist cultivation state of "no-self" (transcending attachment to the body) and its application in governance.

Heshang Gong (an early Daoist commentator) explains that when practitioners transcend physical constraints, they naturally attain the Dao, achieving lightness for spiritual ascension and unimpeded connection with the Way, thereby avoiding misfortune. Yan Zun (a Han dynasty Daoist scholar) further elaborates: one must relinquish distracting thoughts to focus on Dao and De (Virtue/Power), maintaining a harmonious and serene shen (spirit). Through wuwei (non-action), one can effortlessly operate heaven and earth while wandering carefree in primordial chaos. Viewing life-death transformations and status fluctuations as equal renders even the celestial net (cosmic laws) incapable of binding one.

Rong Shi (another commentator) suggests that emptiness, stillness, and self-forgetting lead to the "no-self" state. Worldly judgments and misfortunes stem from bodily attachments—transcending these makes one impervious to disturbances from life, death, honor, or disgrace. Cheng Xuanying (a Tang dynasty Daoist priest) clarifies that "no-self" doesn't mean annihilating the body, but rather surpassing physical attachments through "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang meditation), achieving spiritual liberation.

The third section contrasts "valuing the self" with "cherishing the self" to illuminate governance principles: rulers who prioritize personal status over the realm can only govern temporarily, while those ruling with compassionate love earn their people's enduring trust. Emperor Xuanzong's imperial commentary notes that this chapter begins with discussing how favor and disgrace affect humans, concluding with governance philosophy—true sage-kings transcend personal gains and losses through selfless detachment, naturally attracting popular support.

Cultivation and statecraft converge here: personal refinement requires transcending bodily attachments, while governance demands rising above personal status to embrace compassionate benevolence. This "no-self" state doesn't negate physical existence but liberates one from bodily desires.

Forget disgrace and honor, and preserve dignity and private affection; yet it is better to forget even the world, for otherwise the body remains a great source of trouble.

When I cling to myself and this body, I am alarmed by honor and disgrace. If I cannot let go of both external things and myself, all my worries still converge on “me.” Once I pride myself on possessing a self, the many differences among things begin competing to prove their superiority.

So, forgetting honor and disgrace leaves nothing to alarm me again; forgetting my attachment to the body removes the root of trouble; and letting go even of the world’s reputation keeps me from seeking a place of prominence for the sake of an empty name.

Then, above, one may accord with the Way of the highest ruler, and below, make room for ministers of lesser understanding. One seems to practice Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing remains undone; one does not proclaim one’s De (Virtue/Power), yet De is present of itself.

The Old Master by the River says:

“Thus, one who values himself as the world’s ruler may be entrusted with the world.” If a ruler values only himself and treats others as inferior, yet wishes to govern the world, he can occupy the position only temporarily; he cannot hold it for long.

“One who cherishes himself as the world’s ruler may be entrusted with the world.” If a ruler cherishes himself not for his own sake alone, but in order to serve as a parent to the people, then with this kind of De he may govern the world and entrust his own person and household to the people, without lasting harm.

Rong says: The highest ruler values De, not his own person; the enlightened ruler cherishes others, not himself. Acting this way, one can endure. If one prizes oneself and scorns other things, loves oneself and resents others, one cannot share Heaven and Earth’s impartial benevolence or shine equally with the sun and moon. One is merely a temporary occupant.

The Commentary on the Meaning says:

“Thus, one who values himself as the world’s ruler may be entrusted with the world.” Not realizing that the body itself is a great source of trouble, such a person clings to it and prizes it, esteeming himself and constantly seeking to rise above all things. He is fit only to occupy the world temporarily, not to rule it for long.

“One who cherishes himself as the world’s ruler may be entrusted with the world.” “Entrusted” means a temporary stay; “attached” means a lasting bond. One who preserves and cherishes his own person without acting rashly, and who keeps himself humble, yielding, and responsive to things, can entrust himself to the world’s transformation. Thus the De Jing says: “Love yourself, but do not exalt yourself.”

Chapter Fourteen: Seeing It, One Does Not See It

This chapter follows the previous one for this reason: the previous chapter identifies the body as a great source of trouble and warns against craving and attachment; this chapter reveals the subtle, imperceptible essence and encourages people to cultivate and study it. It presents the illness first, then the remedy, and so comes next.

The meaning of this chapter can now be divided into six parts: first, it explains “not one, yet one; the One disperses into three”; second, it explains “not three, yet three; the three blend into one.” … (The original commentary continues with further divisions, but the surviving copy of the scripture appears not to include the full text here.)

The Structure of the Passage (As Indicated by the Title)

This section centers on “returning to unity” and “understanding the Dao.” It argues that the Great Dao cannot be judged by distinguishing the foolish from the wise, and that its subtle principle exceeds words and names. It says that although the luminous essence mingles with forms and sounds, it can respond to things without limit. The Dao is neither simply being nor nonbeing, nor confined to past or present; yet it runs through past and present and orders the myriad transformations. The section also discusses “being one without duality, and dividing the One into three”: the dark and profound Dao conceals and contains all things, like a great source, deep and still.

Opening Discussion: The Depth and Subtle Efficacy of the Dark Dao

The mysterious Dao lies hidden in the far distance, its source deep, still, and profound. Few can glimpse it even when they ascend to the realm of the Three Heavens, and it is hard to trace even beyond the Eight Realms. Before differentiation, its form was like an egg; gazed at from above, it was as unfathomable as a dragon. It is obscure, dark, and silent, beyond the reach of arguments that seek to flatter or cling.

Thus the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan sought the Dao on Mount Kunlun but did not attain it, while Tang Yao was likewise unable to reach it at Mount Gushe. The Great Dao neither arises nor perishes; it spans the ages and endures forever. Without color or form, it runs through the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) and stands at the head of all existence. From its root, it sends down manifestations and functions, opening the gate to the myriad mysteries, clearing and expanding the cosmic qi, and extending the work of creation. It reveals the true Jing in a jade case and gathers living beings into a precious pearl. Thus Liu An summoned the Eight Lords and attained immortality; the Queen Mother of the West gained two youths as attendants; Magu met briefly with someone and spoke of the sea changing three times; and Ding Lingwei’s song on returning home revealed that his native place had changed. The workings of the subtle Dao are truly vast!

“Look for It and You Do Not See It; It Is Called Yi”

Imperial Commentary: This chapter concerns understanding the Dao. “Yi” means level and plain. The Dao is not color, so the eye cannot see it. Yet within the absence of color, it can manifest every kind of color; therefore it is called “Yi.”

Imperial Explanatory Commentary: The central purpose of this chapter is to clarify the Dao. Some seek the Dao through sight and color, some through hearing and sound, and some through touch and form. But the Dao is not color, sound, or form, so seeking it in these ways will never succeed. Yet because it cannot be grasped in this way, it would also be wrong simply to call it “nothing”: in the absence of color, it can respond to every color; in the absence of sound, to every sound; and in the absence of form, it can take on every form. It is color without color, sound without sound, and form without form—hence the terms Yi, Xi, and Wei. To clarify the Dao does not mean treating “Dao” as a fixed name or concept. Yi conveys plainness; Xi, the subtlety of sound; Wei, the minuteness of form.

Heshang Gong’s Commentary: The absence of color is called Yi. The One has no colors, so it cannot be seen by the eye.

Rong’s Commentary (by the commentator Rong): Is the Dao really far away? Though the eye cannot see it, the sage can apprehend it and understand it clearly. It is called Yi: Yi means level and plain; the Great Dao is supremely level and easy.

Summary: The Jing uses “Yi, Xi, and Wei” to describe one reality that cannot be seen, heard, or grasped. The Imperial Commentary stresses that “within nothingness, there can be something.” The explanatory commentary stresses that one must not cling to color, sound, or form in seeking the Dao. Heshang Gong argues from the idea that “the One has no color,” while Rong’s commentary points to the sage’s direct apprehension of the Dao and to the cultivation principle that “the Great Dao is supremely plain.”

The Dao (the Way) as the ultimate reality transcends the realm of sensory perception. It has no color, therefore the eyes cannot see it; if it had color, distinctions would appear, but precisely because it is colorless, it achieves absolute equality.

The Dao also has no sound, therefore the ears cannot hear it. The term "xi" (希) here refers to the most subtle vibration. Since the Dao itself is not sound, it cannot be heard. Yet within this soundlessness, the Dao exists in perfect harmony, hence it is called "xi." The sage can perceive this silent harmony and comprehend the natural principles within it.

The Dao has no concrete form, therefore it cannot be grasped. The term "wei" (微) here denotes the most refined existence. Because the Dao has no fixed shape, it cannot be held. Yet within this formlessness, the Dao manifests all forms. Through profound enlightenment, the sage understands this essential nature of emptiness.

The three characteristics mentioned—"yi" (夷, evenness), "xi" (稀, rareness), and "wei" (微, subtlety)—actually represent three modes of the Dao's manifestation. In Daoist cultivation, they correspond to the three essential elements: "jing" (精, essential wisdom), "shen" (神, numinous function), and "qi" (炁, material manifestation). The sage neither sees "jing," nor hears "shen," nor grasps "qi"—superficially, it appears as if nothing exists.

This does not mean the Dao is completely nonexistent. If it were entirely nonexistent, it would be equivalent to voidness, falling into the erroneous view of "nihilism" (a Buddhist term referring to the extreme view of absolute negation). In truth, the Dao exists in the manner of "manifesting color without being color, producing sound without being sound, appearing in form without being form." Thus, the terms "yi," "xi," and "wei" describe its nature that both transcends the senses and encompasses all things.

These three characteristics appear separate but are ultimately one. Because the Dao surpasses specific attributes like sound, color, and form, it cannot be fully described by any single concept—they must be understood as an integrated whole.

A Plain-Language Interpretation of the Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

〔Previous passage: Yi, Xi, and Wei, merged as one, are the Dao〕

The Dao is not something one can reach out and “grasp.” People can only try to understand it through expressions such as “Yi,” “Xi,” and “Wei.” The Dao itself is not identical with these three names and concepts, so we also say that they merge into one.

Imperial Commentary and Subcommentary (Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang): “The three” here are Yi, Xi, and Wei. “Attain” means to obtain or manifest; “question” means to inquire or challenge; and “merge” means to unite as one. The Dao’s wondrous source is subtle and pure, and cannot be made clear through names and concepts. How could one question it in terms of color, sound, or form? If one insists on asking, one can only speak of Yi, Xi, and Wei—but these are merely provisional names. To explain the Dao’s function: the Dao is not something like sound, color, or form. Thus Yi, Xi, and Wei must also be merged as one.

Heshanggong: Yi, Xi, and Wei cannot be obtained by questioning. The three refer to what has no color, no sound, and no form. They cannot be fully expressed in speech or writing. One must receive them with a quiet mind and seek them through Shen (spirit); they cannot be attained by asking questions. Therefore, they merge as one. “Merge” means to unite the three names as one.

Rong’s Commentary: Yi, Xi, and Wei all transcend sound and color, and even form and name fall away. They cannot be used to distinguish length or invite discussion. Since they are undifferentiated and without division, one can only refer to them provisionally as “one.” One is not one in itself; it comes from the three, and so there is one. The three are not three in themselves; they come from the one, and so there are three. Since the one gives rise to the three, the three are the one; since the three give rise to the one, the one is the three. If one clings to “one” as fixed, there is no three; if one clings to “three” as fixed, there is no one. Only when there is neither one nor three does one accord with the principle of forgetting words. Clinging rigidly to either “three” or “one” instead obstructs the teaching of mysterious understanding.

Cheng’s Commentary: The three are Yi, Xi, and Wei. When the true body responds to the world, it unfolds from one and appears as three; when it responds to the world and returns to the true, the three merge and return to one. One and three, and three and one, are neither identical nor different, so they cannot be pursued through questions or challenges. This can also be explained through the “three vehicles” in terms of the true body and its responsive manifestations. For a detailed discussion, see The Meaning of the Opening Explanation.

Above it, there is no brightness; below it, there is no darkness.

Third: Showing that the Dao is beyond foolishness and wisdom, and wondrously surpasses names and words

Imperial Commentary: Things that have form are bright above and dark below. The Dao alone is not “above” in the ordinary sense, and so it is not bright above; nor is it “below” in the ordinary sense, and so it is not dark below.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Bright” means luminous; “dark” means obscure. All things with form and substance occupy fixed positions: above, they are bright; below, they are dark. The wondrous source of the Dao alone is not like this.

This passage describes the profound and mysterious nature of the Dao (the supreme truth in Daoism). The Dao exists in an indistinct, indefinable state—neither bright nor dark. Heshang Gong (a renowned Han dynasty Daoist scholar) explains that the Dao does not appear particularly luminous in the heavens nor particularly dim in the earthly realm, for it permeates all levels of existence without boundaries.

Rongshi (one of the commentators) further elaborates: The Dao is neither bright nor dark, like something floating freely that cannot be named, ultimately returning to a state of "no-thing" (wu). "Jiao" refers to brightness, while "mei" denotes darkness; "chengcheng" describes the Dao's unfettered, drifting quality. The Dao transcends sensory perceptions like light/dark and sound/form, reaching the silent realm of "xiyi" (soundless and formless), where even concepts like the "Three Ones" (the unity of Jing, Qi, and Shen) dissolve into emptiness. This state beyond all existence is the ultimate truth of the "profound within the profound."

Cheng Xuanying (a Tang dynasty Daoist master) adds: The Dao's subtle profundity surpasses distinctions between foolishness and wisdom. Neither ascending to the "Three Pure Ones" (the highest celestial realm) makes it brighter, nor descending to the "Nine Darknesses" (the deepest hell) makes it darker—this illustrates the Dao's unchanging nature of "neither increasing nor decreasing."

"Endlessly moving yet unnameable" describes the Dao's perpetual motion that defies definition, ultimately returning to a state of "no-thing." Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains: "Endless movement" signifies ceaseless activity—though it generates and transforms all things, it remains unconstrained by them. Heshang Gong states this movement cannot be defined by color, sound, or form, ultimately reverting to insubstantiality. Yan's commentary uses "deep and unfathomable" to characterize the Dao's abyssal nature.

The core message reveals: The Dao transcends all dualities (light/dark, above/below), generates all things yet remains unlimited by them, eternally dynamic while returning to emptiness—the ultimate reality.

This scripture elucidates the profound nature of the Dao (the Way, core concept of Daoism referring to the origin of the cosmos and its operating principles). Though formless and without appearance, the Dao gives birth to all things.

The term "绳绳" (sheng sheng) carries two interpretations: First, it resembles a carpenter's plumb line representing rectitude, symbolizing the sage's governing principles for the world. Second, it describes the Dao's ceaseless movement—though invisible and intangible, it silently propels the workings of heaven and earth while nurturing all beings.

"复归" (returning to the source) speaks of all things ultimately reverting to their origin. The Dao itself is the formless "wondrous foundation" (fundamental substance), yet when responding to circumstances, it becomes perceptible; when returning to its source, it again becomes nameless and without form.

The text then describes the Dao's unique state: having no concrete form yet manifesting all forms, being no particular object yet giving rise to all objects. This condition is called "惚恍" (hu huang, the dim and indistinct state), which cannot be described as either "being" or "non-being". Consider these perspectives:

• Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains this as "form without fixed form, appearance without substance"—existing in the liminal space between being and non-being that defies description.
• Heshang Gong states that while the Dao itself is formless, it bestows forms upon all things; though without substance, it provides appearances to all existence. This hazy, flickering state seems to both exist and not exist, eluding precise comprehension.
• Yan Fu further clarifies that this "formless form" can manifest all conditions, and this "imageless image" can reveal all appearances. Seemingly vague yet all-encompassing, appearing minute yet profoundly vast, it seems absent while truly present.
• Cheng Xuanying synthesizes that the Dao transcends concrete things to return to a state of "no-thing", not even clinging to the concept of "non-being". Through "form without form", it guides the lost—this paradoxical expression actually demonstrates the Dao's dual nature of "arising from substance to function" (manifesting operation from essence) and "naturally returning to authenticity" (spontaneously reverting to fundamental truth).

Fifth: Clarifying That It Is Neither “Nonbeing” Nor “Being,” Neither “Ancient” Nor “Present”

Scripture: You look for it but cannot see its beginning; you follow it but cannot see its end.

Imperial Commentary: It has no beginning, so even if you go to meet it, you cannot see its “head.” It has no ending, so even if you follow it, you cannot see what comes after it.

Imperial Subcommentary: The utmost essence has no form; the utmost vastness cannot be enclosed. Thus, when you go to meet it, you cannot find its beginning, and when you follow it, you cannot find its end. Having no beginning means having no start; having no end means having no finish. With neither beginning nor end, it cannot be grasped by going to meet it or following it.

Heshang Gong: The “One” has no shadow or trace that people can see and know.

Rong’s Commentary: Only “being” has a front that can be approached; only “nonbeing” has no end that can be pursued. That it cannot be seen when approached does not mean it is truly “being”; that it cannot be seen when followed does not mean it is truly “nonbeing.”

Cheng’s Subcommentary: That its beginning cannot be seen when one goes to meet it shows that the Dao is not “ancient”: it has no beginning. That its end cannot be seen when one follows it shows that the Dao is not “present”: it has no ending.

Sixth: Clarifying That It Is Both Ancient and Present, and Can Serve as a Guiding Principle

Scripture: Hold to the Dao of antiquity to govern what exists in the present.

Imperial Commentary: Hold to the ancient Dao of Wuwei (non-action) to govern the purposeful affairs of the present, and you can return to simplicity.

Imperial Subcommentary: This explains that the ancient sage-kings transformed the people through the Dao of Wuwei. They therefore admonish people today: if you can hold to the ancient way of governing through Wuwei and use it to manage the purposeful affairs of the present, transformation will take place on its own, without the need for many words.

Heshang Gong: The sage holds to the ancient Dao and “gives birth to the One” to govern the myriad things. You should understand that people today, too, should hold to this One.

Rong’s Commentary: “Govern” means to set things right and bring them into order. The ancient Dao is the rightness of Wuwei; the present way is purposeful action, as in the sage’s rule. The sage holds to the Dao of Wuwei to set purposeful rule straight, put an end to the age’s decline, and restore a way of life marked by simplicity and harmony.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: “Hold” means to keep and maintain. The sage holds to the nameless Dao of high antiquity and brings order to the living things of the present.

Scripture: To know the beginning of antiquity is called the guiding principle of the Dao.

Imperial Commentary: To know the Dao followed at the beginning of antiquity is called knowing the guiding principle of the Dao.

Earlier Passage (On Movement and Stillness, Being and Nonbeing)

Its movement arises, at its root, from stillness. Speaking of “nonbeing,” suddenly there is being. When it draws in its traces and returns to its root, speaking of “being,” suddenly there is nonbeing. Its sudden becoming “nonbeing” does not mean it remains fixed in nonbeing; its sudden appearance as being does not mean it remains fixed in being. Being and nonbeing are elusive and shifting, impossible to fix under a single name.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: This is “the form of the formless, the image of the imageless.” Its shapes and images all arise from the subtle root, which is silent and without form; hence it is called formless and imageless. Yet it can also bring forth and transform the myriad things, which is why it is also described as having “the image of form.”

A Plain-Language Interpretation

(Continuing from the previous passage)

The earlier phrase “holding to the ancient Dao” means guiding people to act according to the ancient Dao. Here, “knowing the ancient beginning” means that once one understands the Dao, one’s actions will surely transform others. The text therefore stresses again that if a ruler can know the ancient beginning and govern through Wuwei (non-action), the ruler should hold fast to simplicity and cherish stillness. This is the guiding principle for knowing the art of governance.

Commentary by Heshanggong:

When someone can know the original “One” of high antiquity, this is called knowing the guiding principle.

Commentary by Yan Zun:

Hold fast to the natural Dao of high antiquity to govern the present. Do not change the law to suit the peoples of the frontier, nor alter your bearing to suit the Central Plains. Through the One, know the beginning; through the One, know the end. Receive guidance from the Dao above. All things are connected to it, take it as their master, and lie within its illumination. Its scope is vast, and nothing falls outside it. It is the guiding principle of emptiness, the ancestor of Heaven and Earth.

Commentary by Rong You:

The Dao of remote antiquity is difficult to know, and few understand the Dao of Wuwei. Those above govern those below by means of the Dao and uprightness; those below follow those above to cast off what is wrong. This is the essential principle of attaining the Dao.

Subcommentary by Cheng:

The ancient beginning is the Dao without a name. To know that it has neither beginning nor end, that beginning and end revolve in a cycle, and that the present and the ancient are one and the same; to use this ancient Dao to govern the present age—this may be called the guiding principle of the highest Dao.

Chapter Fifteen: Those Skilled in the Dao in Ancient Times

(The chapter on “ancient times” follows the preceding chapter for this reason.)

The previous chapter raised the realm to be cultivated: the rarefied and subtle. This chapter explains that the wisdom needed to cultivate it is hard to discern. The realm and the wisdom meet, so this chapter follows. Its meaning can be divided into three parts: first, it describes the profound and far-reaching wisdom and virtue of those capable of cultivation; second, it forcefully depicts their appearance so that others may follow their example; third, it shows that movement and stillness are not distinct, and that this enables them to unite with emptiness.

First: The Profound and Far-Reaching Wisdom and Virtue of Those Capable of Cultivation

The root of the Great Dao is hard to find, and the form of its wondrous image cannot be seen. Riding dragons and mounting Qi (vital energy), they roam and soar through azure grottoes; driving cranes and harnessing luan birds, they wander at ease in distant cinnabar peaks. Their nature is still, their form true, and they seem beyond comparison.

Measured against the many kinds of people in the present age, they cannot be understood. When they wish to follow the Dao, they know how deep the snow lies in the depths of winter and suddenly approach what is forbidden. They fear that the deceit of those around them will be discovered, and so they cultivate and serve in trembling fear. Such is their appearance. How could this be the condition of someone who has not yet cast off foolishness and let their feelings run unchecked…

(The scripture breaks off here; the continuation should appear in the next passage.)

Notes:

“Rarefied and subtle” refers to what is empty, still, and without form.

Heshanggong, Yan Zun, Rong You, and Cheng are commentators on the Dao De Jing from different historical periods.

“Those skilled in the Dao in ancient times” refers to Chapter Fifteen, which describes such people as deep and hidden, as though empty, and cautious, like someone crossing a stream in winter.

A Vernacular Interpretation

(Those who are immersed in the pleasures of the five desires and, after death, fall into the three evil realms—how could they understand the state of mind of the ancient practitioners of the Dao, yet dare to boast in this way?)

Those of ancient times who excelled in practicing the Dao were subtle, wondrous, profound, and penetrating; they could not be fathomed.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s Commentary: “Practitioners” refers to those who cultivate the Dao. The passage says that those in ancient times who excelled in making the Dao their way of life deeply understood and freely penetrated its subtle and profound principles. Yet their Virtue and bearing were unfathomable, beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s Subcommentary: “Ancient” means of former times. “Practitioners” refers to those who serve the Dao. The passage says that those in ancient times who excelled in making the Dao their way of life freely penetrated its fine and wondrous principles. They embodied the Dao and expressed it in words, becoming clear and unimpeded. Yet their bearing was empty, humble, and far-reaching, beyond the understanding of others.

Heshang Gong’s Commentary: “Those of ancient times who excelled in practicing the Dao” refers to rulers who governed the country by means of the Dao. “Subtle, wondrous, profound, and penetrating”: “profound” refers to Heaven. Their aspirations and integrity were subtle and fine, profound and wondrous, and communicated with Heaven. “They could not be fathomed”: their Dao and Virtue were deep and far-reaching, beyond the understanding of others. They looked inward as though blind and listened inward as though deaf, unaware of their own strengths.

Yan Zun’s Interpretation: They understood the meaning of Dao and Virtue above and reached the hearts of the spirits below. They upheld the constant patterns of Heaven and Earth and embraced the transformations of Yin-Yang. Yet they concealed their appearance and erased every trace of their intentions; their actions proceeded by way of reversal—that is, by following the opposite course—and could not be fathomed.

Rong Yidao’s Interpretation: In former times, the Dao was difficult to practice, but the wise practitioners of old were able to follow it. The Dao is subtle and essential, profound, still, empty, and penetrating. Its practice, too, reaches the utmost subtlety, probes the finest details, and meets with neither stagnation nor obstruction. When practice accords with the Dao, it becomes unfathomable and hard to understand. It cannot be expressed in words—for whoever speaks of it misses the Dao. It cannot be grasped by the intellect—for whoever grasps at it departs from the truth. Hence the text says it cannot be fathomed.

Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary: “Those of ancient times who excelled in practicing the Dao”: “ancient” means former times. “Excellent” stands in contrast to “bad.” “Practice” means to study and cultivate. The previous chapter says, “Hold to the ancient Dao to govern the present”; this chapter says, in effect, “Govern the present by drawing on the ancient.” It therefore cites those of former times who excelled in cultivating the Dao as models for students to follow. “Subtle, wondrous, profound, and penetrating; they could not be fathomed”: “subtle and wondrous” refers to the wisdom that enables cultivation; “profound and penetrating” refers to the realm being cultivated. The realm and wisdom converge, and both the subject and object of cultivation are profound. They cannot be grasped by the mind, which is why the text praises them in this way.

Second: Strive to Describe Their Appearance, So That Others May Follow Their Practice

Since they could not be fathomed, we can only strive to describe their appearance.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s Commentary: Precisely because their Virtue and bearing were difficult to understand, one must make an effort to describe their appearance in order to make them clear. The description that follows explains what this means.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s Subcommentary: Precisely because the excellent practitioners, though their outward bearing could be...

A person who has awakened to the Dao can see through all things. Their heart is broad and at ease, and the radiance of De arises naturally; its depth and breadth are beyond measure. So one can only sketch, as best one can, a way of comporting oneself, and point to the traces of following nature and not going against the inherent character of things. These examples can guide and teach ordinary people.

Heshang Gong: This refers to the sentences that follow.

Rong: “Countenance” means one’s appearance. Since the Dao is difficult to fathom and its cultivation profound, later generations might have no way to prepare themselves or understand the Great Dao, and those who study the Dao might not know how to conduct themselves in practice. The text therefore briefly gives examples of “countenance and bearing” below, to encourage everyone.

Cheng’s commentary: “Countenance” means one’s form and appearance. Only this ineffable sacred wisdom is fit to govern the myriad things. To guide beings of every kind, it therefore sets out, as best it can, a “manner of bearing” that can serve as a model for practice, grounded in the principle of the formless.

“Cautious, as if crossing a river in winter”

“Cautious, as if crossing a river in winter”: careful yet composed, like someone crossing a river in winter.

The Imperial Commentary: “Cautious” means relaxed and at ease. Good people in every generation hear the teaching, like someone crossing a winter river: ordinary people are attached to things and so feel fear, while those who study the Dao are untainted and therefore at ease.

The Imperial Subcommentary: “As if” means “like”; the “river” is a metaphor for worldly desires and attachments, which cause people to sink and drown. Though good people live in the world, they are not tainted by desire and attachment, like someone crossing a winter river with composure. They can cross a river in winter with ease because the ice is firm and the danger of falling through is slight.

Heshang Gong: Be especially careful in all that you do, proceeding with great caution, like someone crossing a river in winter. Keep a sense of how difficult the situation is.

Rong: One who steps onto thin ice fears falling through. Amid the precariousness of life, one is constantly mindful of danger, diligent and vigilant, not daring to do wrong, and earnestly seeking only to advance in the Dao.

Cheng’s commentary: “Cautious” can also mean hesitant and wary. Those who cultivate the Dao fear the conditions of the world and keep their mental activity—their thoughts and intentions—pure. Like someone crossing a river in winter, they feel apprehensive, afraid of sinking and becoming submerged. This line explains the purification of mental activity.

“Watchful, as if afraid the four neighbors might see”

“Watchful, as if afraid the four neighbors might find out”: guarded and cautious, like someone afraid the neighbors will discover what they are doing.

The Imperial Commentary: Hesitant, uncertain, and afraid. The previous line says that good people are at ease because they are untainted. But when we observe their conduct, they seem full of hesitation, like people today who act with extra care for fear their neighbors might find out.

The Imperial Subcommentary: Good people are free of desire and attachment, and so are often hesitant. When they consider their actions and conduct, they fear these may not accord with the Dao, and so feel uncertain—like people today who are especially careful because they fear their neighbors might find out what they are doing.

Heshang Gong: They restrain themselves in every movement, like someone who has broken the law and fears the neighbors will find out.

Rong: In worldly life, people who do wrong fear their neighbors will notice. Those who resolve to follow the Dao and do good also keep the guarded caution of someone afraid the neighbors might find out, and so do not act carelessly.

This passage elucidates three essential mental states for practitioners to cultivate:

The first state, "solemn as a guest," emphasizes maintaining reverential caution akin to a visitor in another's home. Just as guests wouldn't recklessly rearrange their host's furnishings, practitioners should approach worldly temptations with dignified restraint, avoiding impulsive actions. This cultivates purity in bodily conduct (purification of bodily karma), preventing indulgence of body and mind.

Next comes "melting like thawing ice," describing how the mind should dissolve naturally like springtime snow. When confronting desires, practitioners should emulate ice yielding to seasonal changes—transforming effortlessly without forced resistance. The commentary by Heshang Gong explains this as eliminating emotional attachments to preserve inner emptiness. Yan Junping further illustrates that one should remain pliant as water—solidifying as ice in winter, flowing freely when warmed—always harmonizing with the Dao's natural rhythms.

Finally, "simple as uncarved wood" underscores preserving one's inherently honest and unadorned nature. Though wisdom grows and attachments fade, practitioners must guard against conceit. Imperial annotations compare this state to raw timber—internally substantial yet outwardly unassuming. Master Rong describes it as substantial without ostentation, while Cheng Xuanying characterizes it as the cultivated state of pristine simplicity.

These three states progress sequentially: from disciplined external conduct, through the natural dissolution of inner attachments, culminating in the return to fundamental authenticity. Together, they embody the Daoist cultivation principle of "daily diminishing" (wei dao ri sun)—the progressive shedding of artificiality to reveal one's true nature.

Remain simple and true to one’s nature. The three faults of self-cultivation have been cleared away, and confusion and distress have also dissipated. One can therefore be sincere and balanced in conduct, cast off outward embellishment, and return to what is real.

“Vast, like a valley.” The Imperial Commentary says: A person of De has a broad mind and can embrace all things, like an open valley. The Imperial Subcommentary explains: “Vast” means broad. Those who are skilled in cultivating the Dao hold Dao and De within themselves. Their bearing is generous, and they welcome all things, like an empty valley that contains everything. Heshang Gong says that vastness means breadth, while a valley is empty. By not claiming De, fame, or merit as one’s own, one can embrace all things. Rong says that a valley is empty and can receive all things and answer sounds. When the mind is empty and still, it can hold the heart of the Dao and help the world. The Subcommentary on the Cheng text says that worldly entanglements have been exhausted and the mind has become clear and open; thus, one’s Dao and De are broad enough to embrace all things like a valley.

“Blended, like something turbid.” The Imperial Commentary says: One shares the world’s brightness and blends into its forms and traces. One seems turbid, but within is clear. The Imperial Subcommentary explains: A good person’s mind is clear and still, yet can also accommodate all things. They do not display what makes them unusual, but live among ordinary people; they seem blended into the commonplace, as though no one could recognize them. Heshang Gong says that “blended” means keeping to one’s original nature, while “turbid” means not displaying one’s cleverness. One joins with everyone and does not regard oneself as superior. Rong says that with no distinctions in the mind, one appears blended; by living in harmony with the world, one seems turbid. One holds a precious jade without being stained by external things, and keeps a bright pearl without making a show of it, so outwardly one seems turbid. The Subcommentary on the Cheng text says that “blended” means mixing together, and “turbid” means engaging in activity. Even with a pure mind and diminishing troubles, one still lives among ordinary people amid the turmoil of worldly affairs, without seeming different from them.

The third section explains that movement and stillness are not separate from one another, and that one can therefore apprehend the Great Dao in emptiness and stillness.

“Who can still turbid water and let it gradually become clear?” The Imperial Commentary says: “Who” means who can make something turbid still, so that it slowly clears of itself? Linking this to what came before, the Imperial Subcommentary explains that the clearing of muddy water here serves as a metaphor for the good person’s mind remaining untainted and becoming clear of itself once it is still. When worldly desires stir and the mind becomes clouded, who can use the Dao’s nature of clarity and stillness to settle the mind and prevent desire from arising, just as muddy water is left undisturbed until it gradually clears? Heshang Gong says that whoever can remain still and steadfast, holding to this for a long time, will gradually extend their years and attain longevity. Rong says that “still” means settled, and “gradually” means little by little. When the mind’s agitation ceases, the spirit naturally becomes still, just as water clears by itself when it is no longer stirred. Few people can do this.

Plain-Language Interpretation

“Who can let stillness slowly clear what is turbid?” (Continuing from the previous passage.) Who can bring gradual clarity to turbidity without rushing? Cheng Xuanying’s commentary says: “Slowly” means at an unhurried pace. Though living amid desires, one can benefit people through one’s dealings and remain unstained while immersed in the world. The mind stays calm, at ease, clear, and open. The previous passage described being clear yet able to mingle with what is turbid; here, one dwells amid turbidity without abandoning clarity and ease. One understands activity while the mind remains still.

“Who can remain at ease for long, then move and slowly bring things to life?”

Imperial Commentary: Who can remain settled in stillness for a long time, then seek a higher method and cultivate through movement, so that the nature of stillness does not become trapped in a method, but gradually moves forth? “Bring to life” means to move and emerge.

Imperial Subcommentary: The teaching is to avoid becoming trapped in any method. Who can use the nature of stillness to quiet love and desire? Water’s nature may gradually become clear, but if one settles into that clarity and remains attached to it, this attachment is not awakening and cannot be called complete release. One must continue to seek a higher method and cultivate further through movement on the path. By diminishing and diminishing again, and proceeding through the stages of practice until attachment is extinguished, the nature of stillness does not become trapped in a method; it gradually moves forth. “Bring to life” likewise means to move and emerge.

Heshanggong: “Who” means: who can remain still for a long time and gradually attain long life?

Rong: “At ease” means still; “slowly” means gradually. Quiet the movements of the mind, and Shen (spirit) will naturally become still. Do not disturb the water, and its turbidity will naturally clear. Few can practice this, hence the question, “Who can?”

Cheng’s Subcommentary: Though one remains at ease, one is still in motion; though one responds to movement, the mind remains calm and free, giving rise to the transformation of all things. One is clear and still, yet active.

“Those who preserve this Dao do not seek fullness.”

Imperial Commentary: To preserve this Dao of gradual clarity and gradual emergence, one must cling to nothing and become trapped in nothing. If one clings to clarity and seeks life, this is called fullness, and one will lose the Dao. Hence the saying, “do not seek fullness.”

Imperial Subcommentary: Becoming attached to a method and settling into clarity is called fullness. To preserve this Dao of gradual clarity and gradual emergence, one must remain unstained and unattached, attaining without possessing. If one becomes attached to clarity and seeks life, this is called fullness. Fullness obstructs the Dao; hence the saying, “do not seek fullness.”

Heshanggong: To preserve this Dao of gradual emergence, do not seek extravagance or excess.

Rong: The passage above describes the practice of the Dao to encourage learning. If everyone can keep to it, each will attain purity and stillness. Its meaning lies in humility and withdrawal, without seeking fullness.

Cheng’s Subcommentary: Movement and stillness are not separate; hold to the One within. The Dao is full yet never overflows. One seeks to abide in the center and be full.

General Meaning: The theme of this chapter is close to that of Chapter Sixteen: amid the realm of desire, one gradually becomes clear and gradually emerges, without becoming attached to a method in either movement or stillness. Those who preserve the Dao do not seek fullness. Only by clinging neither to clarity nor to stillness can one endure over time.

Fullness and Non-completion

“Fullness” here refers to dispelling the mindset of “centrism”: being attached to the middle and complacent with oneself.

It is precisely by not being full that one can wear out the old without creating the new (Only those who are not complacent can accept what is old and worn, without rushing to distinguish themselves through novelty.)

Imperial Commentary: Only those who are not full can treat the practice of a recent realization as a worn and humble foundation. They do not cling to a temporary new achievement as if it were the final goal.

Imperial Subcommentary: Those who are free of stagnation, who attain Wuwei (non-action) in the Dharma and dwell nowhere, and who are not self-satisfied can use the methods of a new realization to wear down and remedy old, shallow habits, seeking an even higher state. They do not take what is called a “new achievement” at hand to be ultimate and come to a standstill.

The Lord of the Yellow River says: Only those who are not full can keep to what is worn and old, without pursuing new achievements. To keep to what is worn is to conceal one’s brilliance; new achievements mean coveting fame and success.

Rong says: Those who establish themselves must not become full and complacent. Those who assist in governing should take loyalty and uprightness as their foundation. Though old, they can return to youthfulness; amid what is worn and old, they can still renew themselves. Those who study the Dao should empty their minds and distance themselves from sights and sounds, cleanse and purify their spirit, and keep away from strife.

Subcommentary on the Complete Text: This chapter alone speaks of “dispelling the middle.” Within a world of action, wear, and turbidity, the sage can still compassionately save all beings and accomplish great merit. This passage restates the meaning of the chapter as a whole.

Chapter 16, “Attain Utmost Emptiness”: Chapter Outline

The chapter “Attain Utmost Emptiness” follows the previous chapter because the previous chapter directly explains that only when realization and wisdom meet can one reach the wondrous pinnacle of layered Mystery. This chapter therefore makes clear the fruit of the Dao of layered Mystery. Its meaning has three parts: first, it briefly identifies the fruit of the Dao and inspires beings to cultivate; second, it urges a return to the origin and source, to return to the root and restore life; third, it shows how to progress from the small to the great and wondrously accord with emptiness and Mystery.

First: Briefly identify the fruit of the Dao and inspire beings to cultivate

The true source of utmost emptiness, tranquil and detached, forgetful of what is essential, enters the depths of the realm of the rarefied and obscure (the mysterious state beyond sound and sight), and dwells before what is dim and indistinct (as if present, yet not present). Its principle is beyond all false claims, and its words are beyond the four propositions. At times it wanders in the upper realm, sitting on Penglai Mountain and gathering its spirit; at times it descends among ordinary people, guiding a boat to ferry beings across. It opens a vast domain that contains Heaven and Earth without end; it dwells within the minute, yet cannot be found even by searching for it in a hair’s breadth. Its principle is pure and clear; its thought cannot be conveyed. To those who are quiet and withdrawn, it says: You must attain the Dao of utmost emptiness.

Attain utmost emptiness; maintain stillness with steadfastness.

Imperial Commentary: Utmost emptiness is the wondrous source—the original truth, the body of the Dao. All people, it says, receive this wondrous source of utmost emptiness when they come into life. Once physical form takes shape and is stained and imbued by external things, the wondrous source disperses. To restore this wondrous source of utmost emptiness to oneself, one must cast off the contamination and stagnation of the dusty world and hold fast to this way of steadfast stillness.

Classic: Collected Explanatory Notes on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao

Scripture and Commentary (in plain language)

Maintaining the feminine and stillness, and reaching utmost emptiness

Imperial Commentary: If the mind and nature can maintain the feminine (gentleness and yielding, without contention) and stillness (calm and peacefulness), and remain steadfast and substantial (grounded, not superficial), then the Dao of utmost emptiness (the subtle principle of emptiness without limit, brought to its furthest point) will naturally manifest within oneself.

Commentary: “Utmost emptiness” refers to the subtle root (the mysterious and wondrous fundamental substance). At birth, everyone receives this subtle root of utmost emptiness as their true nature (their original nature). Once the physical body has formed, if the six sense faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) crave pleasure, and the Five Desires (desires for forms, sounds, scents, tastes, and touch, among others) rush about in pursuit and competition, the true nature scatters and the subtle root is lost. For the subtle root of utmost emptiness to return to oneself, one must maintain the feminine and stillness, keep one’s disposition steadfast and substantial, and cut off desires without begrudging or despising what is little (without resenting having less or indulging in desire). Then the subtle root of utmost emptiness will return of its own accord—like water flowing toward what is wet and fire moving toward what is dry. “Bring about” means letting it come of itself, as in the Spring and Autumn Annals phrase “bring the army before us,” meaning to draw the troops close.

Heshang Gong: Those who cultivate the Dao cast off feelings and remove desires, purifying the five inner organs until they reach utmost emptiness. They maintain steadfast stillness: they preserve purity and practice steadfastness.

Rong: When nature is upright, it is true; when conduct is pure, it reaches far. Only by remaining steadfast can one attain the Dao of utmost emptiness.

Cheng’s Commentary: “Bring about” means to attain; “utmost emptiness” means the fruit of the Dao; “steadfast” means centered and upright. To attain the fruit of utmost mystery and subtlety, one must quiet the mind and maintain the One (remain focused and keep to the center). By holding to the Middle Way, one can attain it.

Second: Urging a return to the source and root, and a return to the root and restoration of life

Original text: The myriad things arise together; I observe how they return.

Imperial Commentary: The Venerable Lord Lao asks: How do we know that maintaining the feminine and stillness can bring about utmost emptiness? Observe the movements and transformations of the myriad things, then watch them return: they always return to stillness. That is why.

Commentary: This makes clear that maintaining steadfast stillness must bring about utmost emptiness. The myriad things take myriad forms and move in different ways; observe their return, and they are always in their original place. The Book of Changes says, “Thunder within the earth: Return.” Return means going back to the root. In stillness, things return; in movement, they lose their root.

Heshang Gong: “Arise together” means that they are born together. Observe the myriad things: none fails to return to its root. People should keep their root in mind.

Yan: It begins in Wuwei (non-action), moves in formlessness, emerges in seasonable harmony, and thereby brings its work to completion.

Rong: The myriad things arise together, but ordinary people cannot maintain Wuwei or make stillness their disposition. In movement, they turn from the true to the false, lose the root, and pursue the branches. “I observe how they return”: return means the root. Ordinary people lose the root and pursue the branches, leaving simplicity for decline.

Note: This chapter belongs to the tradition of Dao De Jing explanatory commentaries compiled in the Tang dynasty by figures such as Cheng Xuanying, alongside older commentaries by Heshang Gong, Yan Zun, Xu Rong, and others. “Feminine stillness,” “utmost emptiness,” “maintaining the One,” and “returning to the root and restoring life” are all common lines of interpretation for Laozi’s chapter on “bringing about emptiness and maintaining stillness.”

This scripture expounds the principle of "returning to the origin and recovering one's true nature." The sage (one who has attained the Dao) restrains external vanity and returns to a state of fundamental simplicity.

Laozi observes that ordinary people chase after external things with endless grasping and rejecting, yet from the sage's perspective, all such activities ultimately stem from the same root. Just as luxuriant foliage (the "profusion" mentioned) must eventually return to its roots, so too must human desires and thoughts. By returning to this root and maintaining emptiness and stillness, one can recover their original, authentic nature.

Commentators have elucidated this from various angles:

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Imperial Commentary) states that when all things return to their roots, they achieve stillness, and when humans maintain emptiness, they return to their authentic nature and life essence. Just as plants draw vitality from their roots, humans must return to the "supremely empty wondrous origin" (the source of the Dao) to attain longevity.

Cheng Xuanying (Cheng's Commentary) explains that "profusion" describes the chaotic state of beings chasing external objects. The sage advises people to "reverse course and return to the root," as returning to this foundation leads to sagehood.

Heshang Gong interprets the root's stillness, softness, humility, and lowly position as the reason for its immortality. Maintaining stillness means returning to the source of life to attain longevity.

Yan Junping (Yan's Commentary) uses metaphors of celestial cycles and hibernating dragons to illustrate how returning to the root follows natural law.

The core teaching is this: only by relinquishing attachment to external things and returning to our empty, still nature can we attain true wisdom and longevity.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

On “Returning”

Insects lie dormant through winter so that they can change again when spring comes. Plants and trees return to their roots so that they can grow green again. When one can “return,” the spirits settle in their proper places and connect with emptiness and nothingness; the Hun-soul is at peace, the Po-soul is still, and each finds its proper place. When Qi is calm, it flows smoothly, and the blood vessels are clear and unobstructed.

Rong’s commentary: Only at the end does the idea of a cycle arise. Returning to the source and becoming still and unmoving is called “returning to life’s mandate.” The overbearing die badly; those with great fame may die young, halfway through their lives. Stillness and emptiness preserve one’s full natural lifespan: this is what returning to life’s mandate means. Viewed from afar: movement brings life and death, and one loses one’s original nature; stillness brings neither birth nor death, and returns one to one’s true, original mandate.

Cheng’s subcommentary: “Returning to the root” means becoming still. When one returns to the source, the impulse to chase and compete naturally subsides. Stillness is called returning to life’s mandate—“mandate” refers to true nature and one’s original mandate. By shutting out the clamor and turmoil of the world and gathering the mind and spirit in stillness, one returns to true nature and to one’s blessed mandate.

“Returning to life’s mandate is called constancy; knowing constancy is called clarity.”

The Imperial Commentary: By maintaining stillness and returning to life’s mandate, one may be said to have constancy. Knowing how to maintain this constancy brings greater clarity.

The Imperial Subcommentary: “Returning to life’s mandate is called constancy”: One who maintains the yielding and preserves stillness, cultivating deep sincerity until reaching the utmost emptiness, may be said to have returned to life’s mandate and attained constancy, since the wondrous source is already empty. “Knowing constancy is called clarity”: To act recklessly without knowing constancy brings misfortune; this is to lack perseverance. One who does not sustain De will inevitably meet dire misfortune. (This alludes to the “Heng” hexagram in the Classic of Changes.)

Heshang Gong: Returning to life’s mandate keeps one from dying; this is the Dao’s constant course. Knowing this constancy and acting accordingly is clarity.

Rong’s commentary: “Returning to life’s mandate is called constancy”: Because there is birth and death, one cannot say “neither dying nor being born.” Knowing this constancy is clarity. Those who are confused about this principle are in darkness; those who understand this Dao are clear.

Cheng’s subcommentary: “Returning to life’s mandate is called constancy”: Returning to nature and life, one becomes settled and clear, no longer swept along by the cycles of birth and death; hence it is called constancy. “Knowing constancy is called clarity”: Once one understands the principle of returning to life’s mandate and its true constancy, wisdom shines brightly, illuminating every hidden place.

“Not knowing constancy, one acts recklessly and brings misfortune.”

The Imperial Commentary: One who does not sustain De may suffer shame and disgrace. Losing constancy and acting recklessly inevitably brings dire misfortune.

The Imperial Subcommentary: This is called lacking perseverance, or failing to sustain De; dire misfortune will inevitably follow. (“One who does not sustain De may suffer shame and disgrace” comes from the “Heng” hexagram in the Classic of Changes.)

Heshang Gong: Not knowing the Dao’s constant course, one acts with crafty deceit and brings misfortune.

(If further passages below contain “Rong’s commentary,” “Cheng’s subcommentary,” and the like, they follow the same structure: they explain that not knowing constancy leads to reckless action, and reckless action brings misfortune, drawing on the “Heng” hexagram in the Classic of Changes to illustrate the harm of failing to maintain constancy and sustain De.)

(Continued from: Not knowing the constant leads to misfortune.)

Yan, the commentator, says: Those who lose the Dao abandon its constant way. Relying on cleverness, indulging their desires, and recklessly committing harmful acts, they bring disaster upon themselves. Sharp discernment can invite calamity; probing too deeply comes close to courting death; and fondness for argument can lead to ruin. Why? They do not return to their beginning or recover their original nature. In action they go against the Dao; in stillness they depart from the spirit. They cannot keep the divine spirit within, and so naturally cannot endure.

Rong says: Those who know the constant and act accordingly do only good, and receive help from Heaven and protection from others. Hence the text says, “auspicious.” Those who turn their backs on the constant, indulge their desires, and act recklessly and improperly are punished by people and harmed by spirits. Hence the text says, “inauspicious.”

Cheng’s commentary says: Those who do not cultivate their nature, return to De, and thereby accord with the true constant give rise to deluded thoughts and create karma in response to circumstances. They fall into the realm of death, and all they do brings misfortune.

Third: Showing how to proceed from the small to the great and subtly accord with the empty and mysterious

Knowing the constant, one becomes all-embracing

The Imperial Commentary says: Knowing how to keep to the true constant, the mind and its surroundings become empty and still, like an open valley receiving sounds: nothing is beyond its capacity to contain.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: The preceding passage says, “Knowing the constant is called clarity.” With clarity, one can discern things; when things arrive, one responds to them. Nothing is beyond one’s capacity to contain, hence the phrase “Knowing the constant, one becomes all-embracing.”

The Elder of the Riverbank says: Those who know the constant working of the Dao and cast off desires can embrace everything.

Rong says: Knowing the constant and understanding its principle, one’s mind becomes as vast as empty space, embracing everything. Hence the text says, “all-embracing.”

Cheng’s commentary says: Their substance is settled in the constant and the One, and they realize that both compliance and resistance are empty. Therefore, they can accommodate all things.

Being all-embracing, one becomes impartial

The Imperial Commentary says: One can contain and respond to things, responding without intention, without selfishness or bias; this is impartiality.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: One can contain and respond to things, impartially and without selfishness. The whole world turns toward such a person, who can then become its ruler.

The Elder of the Riverbank says: Embracing everything makes one impartial and free of selfishness; no evil can encroach upon or harm such a person.

Rong says: Upright and without selfish intent.

Cheng’s commentary says: Fairness. One can accommodate all things, and so is impartial and free of selfishness.

Being impartial, one becomes a ruler

The Imperial Commentary says: One who is impartial and free of selfishness becomes the one to whom all things turn.

The Elder of the Riverbank says: One who is impartial and free of selfishness can rule the world. When one rightly governs oneself, the body becomes unified, and the myriad divine spirits gather within it.

Rong says: Partiality prevents one from governing things; impartiality enables one to rule the world.

Cheng’s commentary says: “Ruler” means one to whom others turn and submit. When one is impartial, people and spirits alike turn to them.

This passage comes from Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the Dao De Jing. It explains the successive reasoning in “the king—Heaven—the Dao—endurance—no danger throughout one’s life,” drawing together interpretations by the Imperial Commentary, Heshang Gong, Rong, Cheng’s commentary, and others.

The general meaning of the scripture

The reason for establishing this great principle is to embrace all things and act with impartial justice.

The king: The one toward whom the people turn.

Imperial Commentary: All things willingly support him. As Heaven covers all things, he shares De (Virtue/Power) with Heaven.

Imperial Commentary Subcommentary: Heaven alone is supreme. The king models himself on Heaven, and his De is the same as Heaven’s: it covers everything. Hence the saying, “The king is Heaven.”

Heshang Gong: If the king’s De accords with the divine, he connects with Heaven.

Rong: Without deliberate intent, he covers all things far and wide, and his activity accords with the seasons.

Cheng’s Commentary: As a king who embodies the Way and a ruler who transforms through teaching, he is the one to whom all things turn. He also shelters all beings endowed with awareness, making him no different from the vast Heaven.

Heaven is the Dao

Imperial Commentary: Only when the king’s conduct is like Heaven’s can he practice the Dao (the Way).

Imperial Commentary Subcommentary: When the king’s De is like Heaven’s, he governs through Wuwei (non-action), and the transformations of the Great Dao can be put into effect. Hence the saying, “Heaven is the Dao.”

Heshang Gong: When one’s De connects with Heaven, one joins with the Dao.

Rong: One’s De accords with Heaven and Earth, and one’s truth is in harmony with the Dao. Nothing is obstructed; every action is fitting.

Cheng’s Commentary: One accords with the equality with which Heaven covers all things and shares in the Great Dao’s endless generation and transformation.

The Dao endures

Imperial Commentary: When the Dao is practiced throughout the world, one can enjoy blessings and good fortune for a long time.

Imperial Commentary Subcommentary: “The Dao endures” and “no danger throughout one’s life” mean that by keeping stillness and attaining emptiness, one returns to the root and restores one’s life. With such De, one can be a king. The king’s De must accord with Heaven before he can practice the Dao. When the Dao is practiced, it endures and brings blessings. The people of the world draw near to him as they look up to the sun and rely on Heaven; they receive his benefits like rain and look to him as they do to spring. What danger, then, could there be throughout his life? Hence the saying, “No danger throughout one’s life.”

Heshang Gong: Only by joining with the Dao can one endure.

Rong: The Dao has existed from antiquity; the sage enjoys a lifespan without end.

Cheng’s Commentary: Its measure equals the Great Void: it neither comes nor goes. The mind is joined with the utmost Dao: it neither perishes nor is born. Since one accords with this, it is called “enduring.”

No danger throughout one’s life

Imperial Commentary: When one acts in accord with Heaven and the Dao, there is no danger at any point in one’s life.

Heshang Gong: One who can be impartial, can be a king, connects with Heaven, and joins with the Dao unifies all four in Dao and De. Such a person is broad in vision and far-reaching, free of calamity and blame, and passes away together with Heaven and Earth without danger.

Rong: “Pass away” means to reach the end. One’s span is that of Heaven, and one’s truth is in harmony with the Dao.

Cheng’s Commentary: (The sage) is joined with the utmost Dao, neither perishing nor being born; hence there is no danger throughout life.

The argument in one sentence

First, through impartial justice and by embracing all things, one establishes the “king.” When the king’s De is like Heaven’s, covering all things, “the king is Heaven.” When Heaven’s De, through Wuwei, can put the Dao into practice, “Heaven is the Dao.” By keeping stillness, returning to the root, and joining with the Dao, “the Dao endures.” Practicing the Dao in this way brings “no danger throughout one’s life.” The various commentaries use this chain—king → Heaven → Dao → endurance → no danger—to explain what kind of ruler and what kind of De accord with the sage’s Way as Laozi describes it.

Plain-language interpretation

The Dao (the Way) is one with all things and remains unchanged over time. When it is fully embodied in one’s own life, one can remain forever free from danger and ruin.

Cheng’s commentary (completed explanation): This passage speaks of “concealment and leaving no trace.” “Peril” and “danger” both refer to hazardous circumstances. To hide one’s sharpness and erase one’s tracks is called “vanishing from the world”: one does not make oneself visible in the world, but seems to disappear. To respond in accord with changing conditions and act at the right moment is called “remaining free from peril”: one acts without falling into danger.

Another interpretation: Because traces rise and fall, appearing and disappearing through change, the scripture says “vanishing from the world.” Because one’s original nature has neither birth nor death, it also says “remaining free from peril.”

—From Collected Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of the Dao, volume four.