《道德真經玄德纂疏》Vol. 5

Collected Explanatory Commentaries on the Mysterious De of the True Scripture of Dao and De, Volume Five

Chapter Seventeen of the Supreme One

Imperial commentary and subcommentary by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang

Commentaries by Heshanggong, Yan Junping, and Li Rong

Subcommentary by Master of the Law of Western Florescence, Cheng Xuanying

Compiled by Qiang Siqi of Mengyang

Chapter Seventeen of the Supreme One

This chapter follows the preceding one because the preceding chapter explained the utmost subtle source and encouraged people to begin their cultivation. This chapter therefore reveals how responses arise in accord with the times, and how the source descends into manifestations. It has two parts. The first explains that people differ in their innate dispositions and in their capacity for awakening. The second praises the hidden activity of utmost De, which is known as though it were unknown.

The first part explains that people differ in their innate dispositions and in their capacity for awakening.

In the age when Lilu ruled and Hexu held sway, all followed the utmost Dao and had no regard for ornate refinement. The twelve emperors presided over a peaceful age, and their flourishing legacy endured for tens of thousands of years. The ruler governed himself and took no action; above and below, no one knew of one another, and they did not attend to one another’s affairs. The people were like wild deer, and the ruler like a branch on a tree. The customs of the age made it a home of the Great Dao, and all things reached the fields of Huaxu. Their true Qi was abundant and thick; their eating and drinking were simple and harmonious. They followed the naturalness of the Dao and stood together in the unity of the Great Uncarved Simplicity. Their lives were long and their hearts genuine. How was this achieved? In truth, it relied on the power of Wuwei (non-action).

The people below knew that he was there.

Sectional explanation: This means that what is above is aware of the Niwan, and what is below is aware of the Dantian (energy center). The male and female energies meet in the Crimson Palace; the mind is closed and the hands held firm, allowing primordial Qi to circulate. The ears hear the sound of Shen (spirit), while the lower body senses rumbling in the abdomen. When one acts by directing and controlling it, the sound is like bells and drums.

Imperial commentary: “The Supreme One” refers to a ruler of ancient simplicity. “The people below knew” means that the ministers knew there was a ruler above them and revered him as they would Heaven. Yet he left no trace of teaching or deliberate action, so the people did not praise his De.

Imperial subcommentary: “The Supreme One” refers to a ruler of ancient simplicity; the title “Supreme One” expresses the people’s reverence for him. The ruler of the Supreme One’s age dealt with affairs through Wuwei and taught without words. His ministers merely knew there was a ruler above them and revered him as they would Heaven. He stood above them, and they received the blessings of the four seasons’ nurture, but they did not know how to describe his De. Hence the text says, “The people below knew that he was there.”

Heshanggong says: “The Supreme One” refers to the Supreme…

Those ancient rulers who bore no titles—the people only knew of their existence as rulers, but not their specific identities. This state of pristine simplicity was as natural as being completely unaware of the ruler's presence, which is why these rulers received no posthumous titles after their passing. Later generations referred to this mode of governance as that of the "True King."

(Master Rong's Commentary) The term "Taishang" (Supreme Most High) refers to rulers of the highest virtue (De). Their virtue (De) had already transcended worldly standards to the point where even titles could hardly define them. Because sages occupied the highest positions, the designation "Taishang" was used to refer to them. They embodied the Dao and virtue (De), making no demands upon the people; the people lived self-sufficiently and offered no special tributes to their rulers. Between ruler and subject, there was only mutual awareness of each other's existence.

(Cheng Xuanying's Commentary) "Taishang" refers to the supreme sovereign of both the celestial and human realms—the Great Lord of the Dao (Taishang Daojun). This Daojun dwells in the Golden Palace atop the Jade Capital Mountain, often immersed in deep contemplation as part of his daily practice. Those of superior spiritual capacity could deeply comprehend the essence of the Dao, attaining a state of concentrated spirit (Shen) that transcended form and name. The Great Dao Lord descended from the source to manifest traces in the world, thus acquiring a name, yet he remained unattached to any specific form. Therefore, the people only knew of this supreme existence.

Next comes the level of "being loved and praised":

(Imperial Commentary Explanation) After the era of the Taishang rulers passed, sovereigns like the Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun emerged. They promoted teachings, implemented benevolent governance, and extended kindness to all, so the people loved them. They governed with gentleness and achieved remarkable merit, earning them praise. Yet this affection and acclaim became models for later generations to emulate, planting the seeds of future calamity. As Zhuangzi said: The root of great chaos arose during the reigns of Yao and Shun, and its bitter fruits would only manifest a thousand years later.

(Heshang Gong's Commentary) The virtue (De) of these rulers was visible, their kindness commendable, so the people loved and praised them. (Yan Junping's Commentary) Rulers whom the people delighted in supporting were called "Emperors." (Jiejie Commentary) "Being loved" corresponds to the human Hun (ethereal soul), while "being praised" corresponds to the Po (corporeal soul). (Master Rong's Commentary) Rulers of slightly lesser virtue (De) showed clear signs of deliberate action, unable to reach the state of wordless forgetting. Thus, their ministers trusted them intimately, and the people praised them in song. (Cheng Xuanying's Commentary) Those of middling spiritual capacity, with somewhat lesser insight, could not directly grasp the truth and had to rely on concrete forms for cultivation. They became attached to scriptural teachings, fond of literary tools, generating emotions based on words and mutually praising one another.

Finally, the level of "being feared and despised":

(Imperial Commentary Explanation) When virtue (De) further declined, rulers frequently imposed harsh policies, burdening the people until they resorted to punishments to enforce compliance—thus the people feared them. When deceit filled the hearts of the people and rulers failed to perceive it clearly, the people grew contemptuous. (Imperial Commentary Explanation) After the eras of the Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun passed, the age of the Three Sovereigns and Five Hegemons arrived...

On “They fear it” and “They scorn it”

(Commentators hold that) the world has fallen into decline, with harsh punishments and severe laws prevailing, so the people act only out of fear. Those in power cannot see clearly, and are therefore treated with contempt. People below compete to accuse others and win merit, while those above use rewards to entice them into wrongdoing. Deceit arises in this way, and people deceive one another. If this goes on for a long time, it is chilling.

Heshanggong says: “The next best way to govern is to make people afraid”—that is, to rule through penal law. “They scorn it” because there are too many prohibitions and the policies are too complicated. The people cannot sincerely submit, so they defy and disobey.

Yan says: “‘Ah’ is an exclamation of lament; in a certain context, it can therefore be called ‘king.’”

Rong says: Rather than follow the transformations that nurture all things and let them unfold according to their nature, the ruler establishes penal laws to intimidate people. That is why it says “fear.” The laws and commands multiply, and those below deceive those above. This describes the way people were taught in the Later Ancient age.

Cheng’s commentary says: “Scorn” means to deceive and despise. People of inferior capacity have dull dispositions. They let their minds run after external things and become ever more deeply absorbed in them. They fear the punishments and authority of this world, but not the reckoning of the underworld. So they slight the words of the sages, slander them, and refuse to believe. Thus the De Jing says: “When inferior people hear of the Dao, they laugh aloud.”

“When trust is insufficient, there is distrust”

Imperial commentary: “They fear it” and “they scorn it” both arise because the ruler lacks trustworthiness toward those below him. This gives rise to distrust among the people.

Imperial subcommentary: This further explains “they fear it” and “they scorn it.” The people fear the ruler’s commands because the ruler is not sufficiently trustworthy toward his subjects. This is why distrust arises among them.

Heshanggong says: “Trust is insufficient” means that the ruler does not trust those below him; as a result, crafty and deceitful people arise among them. When there is “distrust” below, the people respond in kind and deceive the ruler.

Rong says: Those in high positions should transform the people through the Dao and set an example of trustworthiness. If those above trust those below, those below will trust those above. If those above can trust those below, those below will in turn be trustworthy toward them.

Cheng’s commentary says: People of inferior capacity have heavy impediments and little capacity for faith. That is why they doubt and denigrate the teaching of the sages, committing the offense of disbelief.

“They still value his words”

Imperial commentary: Those who “draw near to him” and “praise him” do so because the ruler speaks words that teach Virtue, and they therefore value what he says.

Imperial subcommentary: This further explains “they draw near to him” and “they praise him.” The people cherish the ruler’s benevolence and goodness and praise his achievements because he speaks words that transform through Virtue. They therefore honor and praise his words.

Heshanggong says: This describes the conduct of the ruler of the highest antiquity. He remains as careful as if he were weighing every word, for fear of straying from the Great Dao and losing his naturalness.

Rong says: This describes the way people were taught in the Middle Ancient age.

A Plain Language Reading of the Collected Explanations of the Mysterious De in the True Scripture of the Dao and De

I. Unable to Leave Words Behind: Using Words to Convey Meaning

People at that time could not yet completely set aside spoken and written language, so they had to use words to convey the true meaning, praising one another and confirming their understanding with one another. For this reason, the scripture repeats similar phrases (repeated sayings).

In the secular world, people mostly use flashy, insubstantial words. As a result, they cannot see the true, simple teaching of the Supreme Dao (the highest Way). The longer they remain confused, the deeper their karmic obstructions (burdens and veils) become.

II. The Second Sigh: Highest De Works in Secret, Unnoticed in Daily Life

Corresponding scripture passage: “When the work is done and the task accomplished, the people all say, ‘We did it naturally.’”

Commentary by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang: Achieve great things without clinging to them; complete tasks while seeming to do nothing. The people benefit from this every day without noticing, thinking everything has simply happened naturally. The text then explains “The highest ruler: the people know he is there.” When the Dao is still simple and unspoiled, who would carve a sacrificial vessel? When Dao and De are openly practiced throughout the world, what need is there to make a deliberate effort to show affection or earn praise? Thus, in the age of the Supreme Ruler (the highest ideal of governance), the people forget the ruler’s beneficence. Now that the work is done and the task accomplished, they all think things should naturally be this way; they do not even think to seek out or praise anyone for benevolently bestowing “humaneness.”

Commentary by Heshang Gong: “The work is done and the task accomplished” refers to peace throughout the world. “The people all say, ‘We did it naturally’” means the people do not know that their ruler possesses De and that his governance and teaching are pure and generous; instead, they think everything is simply as it should be.

Rong says: The flourishing of the imperial Way is “the work is done”; the evident presence of Wuwei (non-action) is “the task accomplished.” The earlier account of the Three Ancient Dynasties explained how, after the Dao was lost, De changed from pure to debased. This passage now draws things together to show how humaneness is abandoned and righteousness cast aside, returning from the debased to the pure. The Dao is shallow and easy to see, while De is lofty and hard to discern. When the sage’s transformation reaches deep, its divine efficacy is difficult to fathom. The people use it every day without realizing it, which is why the passage says “naturally.”

Cheng’s subcommentary: Once Heaven and Earth have completed their work of nurturing and nourishing all things, and the task of bringing them to life is accomplished, the highest De works in secret, succeeding without claiming credit. The people benefit from it every day without knowing, thinking, “I naturally have things this way.” They do not know that, in fact, they depend on the sage’s grace.

III. The Chapter Sequence of Chapter Eighteen, “When the Great Dao Is Abandoned”

The chapter on the Great Dao follows the previous chapter because that chapter positively explains how one responds through the root (the fundamental, wondrous origin). Manifesting traces (the sage appears in responsive forms without departing from the wondrous origin) must suit the circumstances and meet the needs of the moment. This chapter therefore follows by explaining that once responsive manifestations arise, the wondrous origin becomes hidden.

The chapter’s meaning has three parts:

1. Only when the Great Dao is no longer practiced does humaneness and righteousness stand out (as in the later passage, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, humaneness and righteousness appear,” and so on).

2. Governing things through cleverness and contrivance is the source of deceit (the use of intelligence to govern, and related forms of falseness and deception).

3. The names of loyalty and filial piety become prominent because disorder has already arisen (loyalty and filial piety are discussed only after disorder begins).

IV. First Part: Only When the Great Dao Is Not Practiced Does Humaneness and Righteousness Stand Out

General meaning (introductory remarks): In the age of the Five Emperors, customs changed from pure to degraded, from generous to thin. Thus, only when the Great Dao could no longer be practiced freely did people begin to speak especially prominently of humaneness and righteousness. This echoes the line “When the Great Dao is abandoned, humaneness and righteousness appear.” The phrase “The Five Emperors / purity declines in three stages” is incomplete in some transmitted editions; here it is read as “purity declines,” meaning that the customs of generosity and sincerity have been lost.

Explanation: This work is a subcommentary on the Dao De Jing, bringing together the imperial commentary, Heshang Gong’s commentary, Cheng Xuanying’s explanations, and those of other commentators. The plain language version is organized by “scripture passage → what each commentator is saying.” Technical terms such as Supreme Ruler, Supreme Dao, nurturing and nourishing, wondrous origin, and manifesting traces are explained in parentheses where possible.

General Meaning of the Scripture

(In the time of King Jiao, people competed in frivolous pursuits, the simple custom of recording events with knotted cords fell into decline, and warfare arose. In the Yin dynasty came the horror of disembowelment; in the Zhou, the punishment of beheading. Once the Great Dao had fallen into disuse, the realm fell apart: Wu and Yue fought until their states perished and their rulers lost their lives; Yan Kuai tried to abdicate, only to lose both power and life. The calamities that follow from losing the Dao can be seen in these stories. From them we understand that when sages govern through Wuwei (non-action) and the mysterious influence of the Dao prevails, the myriad things are like straw dogs, and private affection does not disrupt public justice. But when a ruler accepts even a single tribute while the people are in anguish and misery, and someone loudly proclaims, “How joyful! How joyful!” amid the clamor of bells and drums, while another parades the words, “How proper! How proper!” as funeral rites are lavishly embellished, then the Great Dao has clearly ceased to be practiced.)

“When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness arise.”

The Imperial Commentary says: As sincerity grows shallow and simplicity is lost, the Great Dao can no longer be put into practice. Only then do lesser ideals such as “benevolence” and “righteousness” appear. It is like fish in a dried-up pond moistening one another with spittle: they are struggling to sustain themselves in dire straits, beyond the realm of original Wuwei. Yet the sage’s resolve to rescue the world from disorder and remedy its ills has not changed. The times may be smooth or treacherous, so the outward traces of that resolve cannot always be the same.

The Imperial Subcommentary says: “The Great Dao” refers to a world grown corrupt, where everyone competes for shallow gains; the quiet, clear, and simple way has vanished, and the harmonious transformation of pure serenity is no more. The original intent of the supreme Dao, which is Wuwei, has been lost; hence the word “abandoned.” Once it has been abandoned, the benevolence of universal love and the righteousness that judges and rejects what is wrong become mixed in. Zhuangzi’s saying, “The Dao is obscured by partial attainments,” refers to benevolence, righteousness, and other ideals each clinging to one side and failing to open into the whole. That is why they are called partial attainments.

Heshang Gong says: In an age when the Great Dao is practiced, families have filial children and states have loyal ministers, so there is no need to make a show of benevolence and righteousness. Only when the Dao has fallen into disuse and rebellion and evil multiply must people speak of benevolence and righteousness. That is not truly transmitting the Dao.

Rong’s Commentary says: In the realm of profound mystery, no circumstance can alter the underlying state; the principle of utmost emptiness cannot be exhausted by either being or nonbeing. If there is no coming to meet or going to follow, where is the beginning or the end? If flourishing and decline bring no change, what can arise or fall away? In a time of purity, people are not divided by closeness or distance; in a tranquil and peaceful age, those above and below are not distinguished by rank. Natural accord needs no knotted cords; those who tread the great square need no written contracts. When the time is true and wholly unified, the functions of partial benevolence and partial righteousness arise as the Dao flourishes. Once corruption takes hold, the Dao can no longer be practiced, and so it is said to be abandoned. Whether times are corrupt or sincere, the Dao itself neither flourishes nor declines; only the human condition differs.

Cheng’s Subcommentary says: This describes the decline of the teaching of the Highest One. When the Five Virtues are no longer manifest, benevolence and righteousness arise, and simplicity is lost. This is what Zhuangzi meant by “scattering Dao and De.”

The rise of benevolence and righteousness is regarded as a fault brought about by the sages. The scripture also says: rather than moistening one another with dampness like fish stranded together, it is better to forget each other in the rivers and lakes.

Second, it explains that governing affairs with cleverness and artifice is the root of ornamentation and fraud.

“When wisdom appears, great hypocrisy and deceit arise as well.”

The imperial commentary explains that those who employ wisdom tend to enact laws. Once laws are made, wicked conduct springs up alongside them, and serious fraud and deceit appear. The theft of tally-sticks and seals illustrates this point. The imperial sub-commentary adds: later generations used wisdom to legislate, binding custom with statutes and regulations and investigating wrongdoing; fearing that people would not keep their word, they made tally-sticks and seals as proof; fearing unfair measure, they made bushels and pecks as standard vessels. Yet unkind people stole the tally-sticks, seals, bushels, and pecks as well. Seen this way, the institutions wisdom devised actually fed fraud—hence “great hypocrisy and deceit” arise from this.

Heshang Gong says that when a ruler who esteems wisdom looks down on virtue and values fine words, scorns plainness and honors ornament, the people respond with treachery and deceit.

Rong’s commentary says that dim quiet and still silence are the utmost of the Dao; hidden depth is the highest reach of cultivation. Before one has achieved brightness without display, one abandons plainness and polishes wisdom to startle the foolish, then disputes right and wrong and stands above the crowd—so contention never ends and cunning multiplies. Robber Zhi acted by these means, and Tian Chengzi used them to seize the state—this is what is meant by great hypocrisy and deceit.

Cheng Xuanying’s sub-commentary says that “wisdom” here means sage-wisdom. When those above use sage-wisdom to govern the myriad things, laws grow ever more intricate; those below produce every sort of fraud to evade punishment. They even steal sage-wisdom and wield it as a tool of deceit. How wisdom harms the myriad things is fully discussed in the Zhuangzi and the Wenzi.

Third, it explains that loyalty and filial piety become named only when society has fallen into disorder.

“When the six kin are not in harmony, there arise the names ‘filial’ and ‘benevolent.’”

The imperial commentary says the six kin are father and son, husband and wife, and brothers. When closeness and distance lose their proper order and kin no longer harmonize, each person favors his own kin and children, and the labels filial and benevolent appear. All of this comes from losing the Great Dao and produces names born of partiality.

The imperial sub-commentary explains that the six kin are father and son, brothers, and husband and wife. In a society of great unity where no one distinguishes near and far by selfishness, there is no partial affection. Only when superiors and inferiors lose harmony and resentment mingles with favor does someone fan the pillow and warm the bed for parents and get called filial; or look in on children before going out and care for them after returning and get called benevolent. Once people have reputations for filial piety and benevolence, they may boast of them, without realizing that when the Great Dao prevails the world is like one household, superiors and inferiors live in mutual peace, each keeps to natural place, one sees others as oneself, love is not confined to one’s own kin, and everyone receives care.

[General meaning of the scripture]

If everyone treated others with compassion, as they would their own children, and cared for all children rather than only their own, then all people under Heaven could show compassion to one another. If so, what need would there be for such distinctions as “filial devotion” and “kindness”?

Heshang Gong’s commentary: Only when the bonds among the six close relations break down and relatives fall into discord is there a need for filial devotion and kindness to support and care for one another.

Rong’s commentary: The six close relations are fathers and sons, brothers, and husbands and wives. When they are at one, right and wrong do not arise, people do not compare what is long with what is short, and likes and dislikes do not take shape. It is because harmony has been lost that “filial devotion” is held up as an ideal; the name “filial devotion” was established because people were no longer filial.

Cheng’s commentary: The six close relations are fathers and sons, brothers, and husbands and wives. In an age of simple harmony, partial and possessive love does not stand out. Only when the bonds among the six relations fall into disorder do the names “filial devotion” and “kindness” become prominent. It was only when the Zhou dynasty’s De (Virtue/Power) declined and shallow conduct began to prevail that people such as Zeng and Min became renowned for exceptional filial conduct.

Only when the state is in disorder are there loyal ministers

Imperial Commentary: In times of peace, those above and below have what they need. Why would such distinctions be necessary? It is only in times of disorder that people risk their lives in the face of danger and earn the name “loyal minister.”

Imperial Subcommentary: Loyalty is simply a minister’s proper duty. Why, then, say that there “are loyal ministers”? Because the ruler has lost the proper way to govern his ministers, allowing sycophants to gain advancement and causing the ruler to grow benighted and disorder to arise. Only then does someone risk death to set the state right and earn the name “loyal minister.” When the Dao’s transformation prevails, with Wuwei (non-action) and stillness, many worthy ministers serve like Kui and Long, and the proper order of human relationships is maintained. The names “loyalty” and “filial devotion” then fall away, and the Way of simplicity flourishes. Why single out “loyal ministers”? These four qualities—such as sagehood, wisdom, benevolence, and righteousness—mark the height of decline and decay; one must return to simplicity.

Heshang Gong’s commentary: Only when government orders go unheeded, those above and below resent each other, and the crooked struggle for power does a loyal minister come forward to rescue his ruler. It also says that when all under Heaven is at peace, people are unaware of benevolence; when everyone is free of desire, people are unaware of integrity; and when those above and below are self-purified, people are unaware of uprightness. In an age of the Great Dao, benevolence and righteousness disappear, as do filial devotion and kindness. It is like the sun at its brightest at midday: the stars lose their light.

Rong’s commentary: In the time of Xi and Nong, no one spoke of the loyalty of ministers and aides; it was only in the days of Jie and Zhou that Guan and Bi were praised as worthy men. When the rising sun shines in the heavens, the stars cannot outshine it; when timely rain falls, irrigation cannot display its merit. It is when the ruler above is benighted and the ministers below are in disorder that someone supports the ruler within and quells threats from without, and the name “loyal” becomes prominent.

Cheng’s commentary (continued): These four qualities already mark the height of decline and decay. How could one fail to return to simplicity?

Plain-Language Interpretation

Commentary: A ruler who commands ten thousand chariots—that is, the sovereign of a great state—regards the whole realm as home. That is why the scripture speaks of a “state.”

When government is at its clearest, there is no need to speak of loyalty. When the age falls into disorder, steadfast integrity stands out all the more. Thus Long Feng, the worthy minister who was killed for remonstrating with Jie of Xia, became renowned in Jie’s time; and Bi Gan, the uncle of Zhou of Shang, who was disemboweled for remonstrating with him, was praised in Zhou’s time.

Chapter Nineteen, “End Sageliness and Abandon Knowledge”

This chapter follows the previous one because that chapter speaks of the Great Dao, while this one takes up what happens after “the Dao has been abandoned.” It explains that sages and the wise then arise, and so urges people to put an end to sageliness and wisdom and return to the ultimate Dao. The chapter’s main argument has three parts: first, it shows beginners the great benefits of abandoning sageliness and wisdom; second, it laments that people of lesser capacity cannot understand the Great Vehicle, the Great Dao; third, it briefly opens the essential gate to guide beginners.

First: Showing the great benefits of abandoning sageliness and wisdom, to instruct beginners

A ruler who holds to the Dao turns the light of the mind inward, embodying the earth and nurturing the myriad things. Taking the round heavens as his model, he preserves clarity. He leaves no trace in the world; above, there is no clamor or dust. Tranquil within the subtle truth of the realm, he stays far from worldly cleverness, his mind dwelling beyond things. Yao’s clouds covered the bounds of Heaven, while Shun’s De flowed across the earth like a sea. Then the myriad things are preserved by the Dao, and affairs of government are left to their natural, true nature. Cunning and deceit are cut off from human relations, and loyalty and filial devotion return to their inborn nature. With these three practices, one is already complete. Why add a fourth by seeking still more learning? See the unadorned and hold to the uncarved; reduce self-interest and desire. Take what comes after as a guide to clarity, and make this a warning.

“End sageliness and abandon knowledge, and the people will benefit a hundredfold.”

Imperial Commentary: When the traces of the sages’ teachings are cut off, governance through Wuwei (non-action) takes hold. When ordinary people abandon clever schemes, they become simple and honest. Simplicity and honesty keep cunning and deceit from arising; Wuwei puts a stop to boasting and competition. People accord with Heaven and its harmony, and things do not lose their nature. This is what “a hundredfold benefit” means.

Commentarial Exegesis: “Sageliness” means the sageliness of deliberate creation; “knowledge” means the worldly cleverness that boasts and competes. Deliberate creations leave traces, while boastful, competitive cleverness lacks truth. When truth is lost, cunning and deceit arise; when people pursue traces, they lose the root. Both must therefore be ended and abandoned so that simplicity and honesty may be preserved. Once harmony with Heaven flows freely, boasting and competition cease, bringing a hundredfold benefit to the people.

Heshang Gong’s Commentary: “End sageliness” means putting an end to the sages’ creations and returning to the beginning, holding to the One. The Five Emperors invented pictorial symbols and Cangjie created writing; neither matched the age of the Three Sovereigns, when people used knotted cords and had no written characters. “Abandon knowledge” means putting aside cleverness and returning to a state without it.

“Seeking benefits for the people can increase them a hundredfold; cultivating and managing agriculture, acting for the common good without selfishness.” (Rong says:) The sage is someone whom ordinary people look up to; the wise person is someone the dull-witted aspire to become. Without wisdom, one cannot discern the right moment; and who but a sage could govern the myriad things? To say now that we should “discard sagehood and abandon wisdom” is unprecedented.

The sage accords with the Dao, which is nameless. Once a name is established, the myriad things become confused. Better than speaking of sagehood is to forget it. When wisdom is put to use, deception overtakes what is genuine; so wisdom, too, must be forgotten and wholly cast aside. Yet once the name “sage” is established, thieves arise; once wisdom is put to use, bandits follow. To say now that we should discard sagehood and abandon wisdom, so that thieves and bandits do not arise, would greatly benefit the people. In brief, it would bring “a hundredfold” benefit.

(Cheng’s subcommentary:) Cut off the “sagehood” that bears a name, and abandon the “wisdom” that makes distinctions: everyone will return to the root and to what is true, and the benefit will be immense. “A hundredfold” therefore gives a large, approximate figure. Zhuangzi says: “The wine of Lu was weak, and Handan was besieged”; “When sages arise, great thieves appear.” The same principle is seen in Tian Chengzi’s theft of the state of Qi through sage-like wisdom, among other examples.

“Discard benevolence and abandon righteousness, and the people will return to filial devotion and compassion.”

Imperial Commentary: Cut off the “benevolence” that extends love to all, and abandon the “righteousness” that judges right and wrong; people will return to a state of great filial devotion and compassion.

Imperial Subcommentary: The previous chapter says, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness appear.” Here it says again, “Discard benevolence and abandon righteousness, and the people will return to filial devotion and compassion.” This explains that in the age of the Great Dao, what is called “mysterious sameness” means that people have no private attachments to their kin, and all are naturally compassionate and filial. When principle reaches its utmost, all traces disappear of themselves; when things occupy their proper place, empty reputations fall away of themselves. Now that the Six Bonds have fallen into disuse, the names “filial devotion” and “compassion” have become conspicuous. If benevolence that extends love to all is discarded, and righteousness that judges right and wrong is abandoned, people by rivers and lakes will no longer be forced into the appearance of keeping one another alive by sharing their last drops of water. The innate foundations of compassion and filial devotion are natural, so the people will return to great filial devotion and compassion.

Heshang Gong: To discard benevolence is to put an end to benevolent favors; to abandon righteousness is to cast aside lofty and extravagant talk. The people will return to filial devotion and compassion, and the transformation through De will become simple and sincere.

Rong says: Benevolence means loving things; righteousness means yielding to others. Though these are said to establish the way of human conduct, in reality they force and distort human feeling. Now one should cast off benevolence and righteousness that force and distort, and return to the filial devotion and compassion of one’s nature.

Cheng’s subcommentary: Discard benevolence that favors one thing over another, and abandon righteousness that clings to fixed judgments; everyone will follow their nature and cease putting on airs. Filial devotion arises from heavenly principle, and compassion follows what is natural. People return to the simplicity of ancient times; hence the phrase “the people will return.” Zhuangzi says: “Benevolence and righteousness are the thatched huts of former kings, and the straw dogs they have discarded”; he also says, “Remove the conduct of Zeng and Shi, and the whole world will become benevolent…” (The rest of the passage is omitted.)

[Rejecting Cunning and Abandoning Profit]

Imperial Commentary: People each show off their unorthodox skills, and all harbor a desire to compete for gain. Therefore, when cunning is cut off, people will no longer contend with one another; when private profit is abandoned, people can be content with what they have. Once content, they will not become thieves.

Imperial Subcommentary: To cut off cunning is to put an end to contrived, unlawful, licentious, and excessive skills; to abandon private profit is to give up pursuing wealth, monopolizing it, and taking it by force. Thievery arises from covetous desire and not knowing when one has enough. Now, if cunning is cut off, people will not contend; if private profit is abandoned, they will be content. When each person is satisfied, who would become a thief? Hence the phrase “nothing remains.”

Heshang Gong says: To cut off cunning is to put an end to falsehood and to what disrupts the constant and true. To abandon private profit is to block the road of greed and close the gates of privilege. Then there will be no thieves. Those above will teach through impartiality, and those below will have no crooked or selfish desires.

Rong says: Break the fingers of the craftsman Chui and quiet the mind that devises machinery: this is to cut off cunning. Throw away jade and destroy pearls: this is to abandon private profit. Yet thievery comes from coveting gain. If precious things are abandoned and there is nothing to gain, will there still be thieves?

Cheng’s Subcommentary says: Cut off the cunning of heterodox ways and abandon the private gains of greed; then the myriad things will each keep to their proper place, and there will be no illicit theft. The Zhuangzi says: “In the age of Shennong, the craftsman Chui’s fingers made the whole world skillful.”

[Second: A General Lament That the Great Vehicle Cannot Be Understood by Those of Lesser Capacity]

Imperial Commentary: These three teachings—cutting off sageliness and abandoning wisdom, cutting off benevolence and abandoning righteousness, and cutting off cunning and abandoning profit—merely tell people what to cut off and abandon. They do not explain how to cultivate the Way. The passage is therefore thought insufficient to serve as instruction; people must be given something to turn toward. This is what the following text provides.

Imperial Subcommentary: The three teachings are, first, cutting off sageliness and abandoning wisdom; second, cutting off benevolence and abandoning righteousness; and third, cutting off cunning and abandoning profit. The text is insufficient as instruction, so people must be given something to turn toward. This is what the following words, “Manifest plainness and embrace simplicity,” and the like provide.

Heshang Gong says: These three teachings are the three things discussed above that are to be cut off and abandoned. The words are considered insufficient to instruct the people, so they must be given something to turn toward, as in the next phrase, “Manifest plainness and embrace simplicity,” and the like.

Rong says: “Text” means instruction; “inherit” means to carry on. When great people establish teachings, they never fail to cultivate the ordinary way to become sages, to turn from foolishness toward wisdom, and to remove what is harmful for the sake of what is beneficial. Now that all these things have been abandoned, instruction is insufficient, and those who wish to learn do not know where to set their minds. Therefore, the text that follows shows them what to practice.

Cheng’s Subcommentary says: “The three” refers to the three instances of “cut off” above. This passage is an abrupt teaching of the Great Vehicle, studied by those of the highest capacity. Its principles are profound, so it is insufficient to instruct those of lesser capacity.

[Third: Briefly Opening the Essential Gate and Then Guiding Beginners]

This scripture passage explains how practitioners should maintain inner purity and reduce selfish desires. The phrase "令有所属" (ling you suo shu) means that beginners cannot yet fully comprehend profound teachings and must first focus on foundational cultivation methods.

Laozi presents the eight-character principle "见素抱朴，少私寡欲" (jian su bao pu, shao si gua yu), which encompasses four key cultivation requirements:

First, "见素" (jian su) means seeing the true nature of things, preserving innate purity, and not being deceived by superficial appearances. As Heshang Gong explains, one must guard the original truth and avoid pursuing flashy adornments.

Second, "抱朴" (bao pu) means embracing simplicity and returning to one’s genuine essence. Cheng Xuanying interprets this as reverting to the authentic foundation. Master Rong states that "朴" (pu) represents the root—one should remain as naturally unadorned as a tree.

Third, "少私" (shao si) means reducing selfishness. Cheng Xuanying explains this as cultivating impartiality and selflessness. Master Rong elaborates that it means avoiding factionalism and treating others with fairness.

Fourth, "寡欲" (gua yu) means restraining desires. Heshang Gong advises being content with what one has, Cheng Xuanying emphasizes eliminating greed, and Master Rong advocates using reason to control emotional cravings.

The later reference to the chapter "绝学无忧" (jue xue wu you) discusses transcending the discriminating mind of worldly knowledge. The true Dao is profound and mysterious, like precious scriptures stored in jade caskets and golden books. Yet practitioners should not cling to these external forms. Instead, they should emulate the natural flow of autumn waters or the effortless serenity of the "春台" (chun tai, a metaphor for the state of Wuwei), letting go of deliberate striving.

This scripture primarily discusses the principle of "abandoning learning to be free from worries" (绝学无忧). Here, "abandoning learning" refers to discarding the superficial, hypocritical worldly knowledge that violates one's natural innate nature. Laozi believed that humans are born with pure and genuine nature, and excessive pursuit of external learning can instead harm this innate nature.

The truly wise should maintain inner simplicity and reduce selfish desires. As Zhuangzi said, one must discard the "vulgar learning" that seeks empty fame and return to original authenticity. If one becomes attached to fame, wealth, and status, constantly worrying about insufficient renown or inadequate profit, endless anxieties will arise. Conversely, maintaining a mindset of natural non-action (Wuwei) prevents one from being troubled by gains and losses, honor and disgrace.

The text contrasts "respectful assent" (唯) with "disdainful response" (阿)—though both are spoken words, their attitudes differ completely. This resembles the distinction between good and evil: seemingly minor, yet fundamentally worlds apart.

Heshang Gong explains that one must discard false learning that contradicts the great Dao (道) and eliminate superficiality to be free from worries. Yan Junping further points out that worldly learning often fosters arguments and scheming—beneficial to good people but harmful to the wicked. Just as a tiger with wings becomes more dangerous, evil people who acquire such learning cause greater harm. Thus, the sages advocate abandoning these to allow the world to naturally harmonize.

Cheng Xuanying concludes that by letting go of superficial learning and comprehending the principle of non-action (无为), one can escape distress. Preserving natural authenticity prevents entanglement in worldly gains and losses.

General discussion: If you can let go completely of attachment to both “learning” and “not learning,” you will have no worries. If you cannot let go, trouble will arise. The key is simply to turn the mind around and look inward: the Dao is not far away.

The Imperial Commentary of the Tang dynasty says: “Wei” is a respectful response; “a” is a dismissive one. The Book of Rites says that when a teacher calls, one should not simply answer “wei” and then get up: “wei” conveys respect, while “a” conveys disrespect. The Book of Han uses the phrase “who is there?” to mean questioning or pressing someone for an answer. Here, the point is an analogy: “Wei” and “a” both come from the mouth; respect is good, disrespect is bad. Whether distinctions can be brought to an end depends on the mind alone. If distinctions are ended, there is no trouble; if they are not, trouble arises. Since both sounds come from the same mouth, the text asks, “How far apart are they?” Since the difference lies only in the mind, it also asks, “How great is the difference?” If one can realize that “learning,” “not learning,” and the forms of “learning” are all empty, and make no distinction between knowing and forgetting knowledge, then “wei” and “a” become the same, and good and evil are both forgotten.

The Heshang Gong Commentary says: How different are “wei” and “a,” when both are responses? In disordered times, people value appearances and neglect substance. How different are “good” and “evil”? Good is praise; evil is remonstrance. How far apart can they be? In disordered times, people dislike honesty and put flatterers in positions of trust.

Rong’s Commentary says: In ritual, a respectful response is “wei,” while a coarse response is “a.” What pleases the heart is called good; what goes against one’s wishes is called evil. “How far apart” means “not far.” Those who embody the Dao set aside a hundred concerns; those who follow their true nature find that all paths suit them. In truth, there is neither opposition nor compliance, neither beauty nor ugliness. Yet people who act with deliberate intent force distinctions upon things, and let selfishness give rise to unfounded likes and dislikes. They pay no attention to the realm of Dao and De, but judge others by outward forms of etiquette: whatever pleases them they call right, without asking whether a person is worthy; whatever benefits them they call capable, without asking whether the person is wise. Thus the wise may become blind to wisdom, and the worthy may come close to foolishness. That is why the text asks, “How far apart are they?” It also says: human nature is settled as it is; adding to it brings worry. To pursue wisdom for the sake of a fine reputation, and to disguise oneself in falsehood in order to do evil, is to distinguish “wei” from “a” and lose one’s balance. Hence the question, “How far apart are they?”

The Cheng Commentary says: How far apart are “wei” and “a”? “Wei” is a respectful promise; “a” is a dismissive response. The Book of Rites says that when a teacher calls, one should not simply answer “wei.” “How far apart” does not ask whether the distance is great. It means that people fail to understand what accords with them and what goes against them, and give rise to unwarranted pleasure and anger: they are pleased to hear “wei” and angered to hear “a,” not realizing that both sounds come from the same mouth and are not far apart. Hence the question, “How far apart are they?” As for “How great is the difference between good and evil?” what accords with one’s wishes is called good; what goes against them is called evil.

Explanation: This passage is a collection of commentaries on the Dao De Jing’s question, “How far apart are ‘wei’ and ‘a’? How great is the difference between good and evil?” The commentators explain it through ritual responses, the appointment of officials in troubled times, and distinctions made by the mind and nature. Their shared point is that the sounds are close, while the difference lies in the mind; those who embody the Dao and follow their true nature forget both good and evil.

Plain-Language Interpretation

(First passage: explaining when attachment to purposeful learning must be brought to an end)

“‘Wei’ and ‘a’ come from the same mouth; good and evil arise from the same heart. Those who can let go of attachment know that the two are originally no different. Those who cling to distinctions, however, set them against each other like the states of Chu and Yue, as though they could never coexist. Among those who pursue purposeful learning, delusion and attachment are especially common: they become entangled in right and wrong, good and evil, and rise and fall with ‘wei’ and ‘a,’ joy and anger. This is the root of troubles that burden the body. Only by putting an end to this can one be free from worry.” The two contrasts above briefly describe how attachment to learning must be brought to an end.

(Second passage: pointing out that one must not become immersed in and tainted by deluded feelings and the dusty realm)

“What people fear, one cannot help but fear.”

Imperial Commentary of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang: What ordinary people ought to fear is arrogance and wrongdoing; what a good person ought to fear is worldly, purposeful learning. These should all be brought to an end, so one cannot help but remain wary of them.

Imperial Subcommentary: What people fear is arrogance and wrongdoing. Arrogance leads to faults, and wrongdoing makes others resent you. Resentment brings contempt, while faults invite blame. How much more, then, can purposeful, worldly learning multiply disputes over right and wrong? If one does not fear it and put an end to it, one violates one’s proper place and harms one’s nature. So one must fear it and bring it to an end.

Commentary of Heshang Gong: “What people fear” refers to what those who study the Dao ought to fear: failing to put an end to learning and continuing to act like rulers, for example. One cannot help but fear this. Drawing close to flattering, seductive appearances harms the benevolent and worthy, among others.

Rong’s Commentary: Water and fire are fearsome; if one does not fear them, one will be burned or drowned. Wolves and tigers are fearsome; if one does not fear them, one will eventually be injured. From this we can see that if people never cease acting on love and hate, they will ultimately suffer ruin and loss; if they never stop craving fame and profit, they will end in danger and destruction. Today, people are mired in worldly custom, sunk in it and unable to turn back, with no end to their reckless pursuit in sight.

Subcommentary of Cheng: What students of the Dao ought to fear means life and death and the many conditions of the dusty realm. They cannot help but fear these, or they will surely become immersed in them. The earlier statement, “Put an end to learning,” showed that good and evil are both empty. But there was a concern that people might cling to the words and meanings, and thereby become tainted by the dusty realm. This sentence is therefore given as a warning.

(Third passage: speaking broadly about how living beings become immersed and tainted)

“How desolate it is—there is no end to it!”

Imperial Commentary: If people do not fear worldly learning and put an end to it, the true nature of living beings will be laid waste, with no end in sight.

Imperial Subcommentary: “Desolate” means laid waste. Arrogance and wrongdoing are faults; worldly learning departs from the truth. All of these are to be feared and cast aside. If people do not put an end to them but continue to cling to them, their true nature will be laid waste, with no day of respite. The Book of Songs says, “The night is not yet over,” meaning that many watches of the night remain. Here, “there is no end to it” means that the harm caused by worldly learning is likewise long-lasting and without limit.

General Meaning of the Scripture

“Learning harms one’s innate nature, and there is no end to it. The road ahead is still long; one says it has not yet reached its end.”

Ordinary people devote themselves single-mindedly to “learning,” often harming their original nature in the process. This pursuit has no clear end and no moment of rest, so the road ahead still seems long. They often say they “haven’t reached the end yet” (weiyang).

“The crowd is bustling with joy, as if attending a grand sacrificial feast, or climbing a terrace in spring.”

The crowd is lively and excited, as though heading to a lavish banquet—the grandest kind of ancient sacrificial feast, with an ox, a sheep, and a pig—or climbing to a high vantage point in spring, surrounded by signs of life. They feel pleased and become attached to what they see and desire, unable to stop.

Explanations from Various Commentators

Heshang Gong says that in troubled times, people pursue learning recklessly, seeking fame and advancement through literary accomplishment. Learning has no limit, and their desires cannot be brought to rest.

The Cheng Commentary says that “vast” means distant and far-reaching, expressing a sigh that the road is still long; “end” means completion, expressing a sigh that the hardship is not yet over. Living beings are stained by desire and deeply attached to it. Day after day, they rarely find a true moment of rest.

Emperor Xuanzong’s Imperial Commentary and Explanatory Notes say this passage describes ordinary people who refuse to “cut themselves off from worldly learning” as the sages do. They study worldly methods of deliberate action, their minds chasing external circumstances, and spend their whole lives in ceaseless activity—like a hungry person attending a grand feast out of greed for food, or climbing a terrace in spring out of greed for beautiful scenery. On a spring terrace, flourishing plants and the calls of birds and beasts, together with the warm, life-giving Qi of spring, can easily stir unrestrained desire. Lines from the “Bin Feng” section of the Book of Songs, such as “The spring days are long and slow; the gathering of white mugwort is abundant,” likewise describe women stirred by emotion, echoing the attachment represented by “climbing a terrace.”

Heshang Gong adds that “bustling with joy” means indulgence and many desires. People are always thinking of the delicacies at a grand feast; when they climb a terrace in spring, Yin and Yang mingle and all things sprout, so a glance or a sound can send the spirit drifting.

Rong’s Commentary says that “bustling with joy” means delight; the grand feast represents delicious flavors, and the spring terrace represents beauty. People of the common world seek learning for fame and indulge their desires for pleasure. Their eyes do not know that blindness will one day come, and their mouths do not know that their capacity to taste will fade. As they grow older, their desires grow stronger; they wear themselves out without rest and still take pleasure in it.

The Cheng Commentary concludes that “the crowd” is another name for living beings. They are deeply attached to sights and sounds, like hungry people eating at a grand feast or people climbing a terrace in spring to gaze over woods and fields, their hearts at ease and delighted, yet unwilling to let go.

In short: Laozi uses “as if attending a grand sacrificial feast” and “as if climbing a terrace in spring” to portray the pleasure ordinary people take in learning and material desire. The commentators gradually bring out how this “bustling joy” has no end. It runs counter to the sage’s path of resisting worldly learning and guarding one’s nature through Wuwei (non-action).

General Meaning of the Passage

Laozi says: I alone am calm and quiet, with no stirrings of desire or clever contrivance in my heart, like an infant who has not yet learned to smile at people. I also seem to move lightly, with nothing to cling to and no idea where I am returning to. The passage continues: Everyone else seems to have more than enough and to be full; I alone seem insufficient and impoverished.

The Imperial Commentary and Subcommentary (Tang Dynasty)

The emperor’s commentary says: “I alone am detached and indifferent, with almost no trace of sensual desire, like an infant who has not yet learned to smile.”

The subcommentary expands on this: “I” is Laozi referring to himself. The meaning is that I have turned away from worldly learning and study the Dao; I alone can remain detached and quiet. In an age when people are busy with deliberate action and sensual desire, I show almost no sign of being stirred by them, like an infant who has not yet learned to smile or distinguish between self and other. Zhuangzi also says that before the stage of a child’s smile, there can be no true distinction between self and other.

Commentary by the Lord of the River

The Lord of the River says: I alone am detached and quiet, with no signs yet of sensual desire emerging. I am also like a small child who cannot yet talk or play with a wooden puppet—an image emphasizing a state of innocence and undividedness, not yet “switched on” by worldly desire.

The View of Rong Hao (or “Rong says” in older editions)

The Sage says: Everyone else rushes about in the realm of deliberate action, stirred by sounds, sights, and sensual desire. I remain detached in the realm of Wuwei (non-action); fragrances cannot beguile me. I am like an infant who knows nothing of relations between men and women, knows nothing of sexual indulgence, and has nowhere for the heart to settle. How, then, could I be said to have a fixed destination?

Cheng Xuanying’s Subcommentary

“Nothing has yet stirred in my Po” is still Laozi speaking of himself. Here, “Po” means stillness and composure; “stirred” means a sign or first trace. Though the Sage lives in the world, his heart remains still and is not led about by external circumstances, so no impulse to cling to things takes root. He is like an infant who has not yet learned to smile, with heart and body both pure. The passage also says that his wisdom is vast and his capacity broad, like an empty boat with nothing to cling to.

“Moving lightly, as though with nowhere to return to”: The imperial commentary reads this as the Perfected Person has no fixed mind; he moves along with things, taking nothing and rejecting nothing—like a traveler who is in no hurry to reach a particular destination. The subcommentary says that whenever ordinary people act, they become attached and are always seeking something, so they seem always to have somewhere to go. I, by contrast, have no such intention: detached and quiet, I flow on when the current carries me and stop when I meet an obstacle, like a traveler who is not anxiously bent on reaching home. The Lord of the River, in turn, says that I move along lightly, like someone stranded in a remote place with nowhere to return to.

Points to Keep in Mind When Reading This Passage

• Detached and still / nothing has yet stirred / the infant has not yet learned to smile: This does not mean pretending to be foolish. It means that desire and calculating intention have not yet arisen or left their traces in one’s expression and actions.
• Moving lightly, as though with nowhere to return to: This does not mean giving up on life. It means not fixing one’s life on a particular worldly destination; the heart does not become attached.
• Everyone seems to have more than enough: In contrast with Laozi’s “I alone seem insufficient,” this reflects the Dao De Jing’s recurring critique of convention. The world seeks fullness and surplus, while those who cultivate the Dao may appear “insufficient” on the surface, preserving softness and emptiness.

Imperial Commentary: People are absorbed in worldly affairs and flaunt their cleverness and ingenuity, believing they have more than enough, to make themselves shine.

Explanatory Commentary: “Everyone has more than enough, while I alone seem left behind.” People cling to worldly learning and make a show of their cleverness, holding fast to it as though it were the Way and believing they have more than enough. I do the opposite: I continually reduce and let go. My mind does not become fixed or stagnant, and I harbor no greed or attachment, so I seem abandoned and forgotten.

Heshang Gong says: When people have surplus wealth, they use it for extravagance; when they have surplus intelligence, they use it to deceive.

Rong says: Everyone has more than enough, while I alone seem left behind. Ordinary people lack clarity and emptiness, yet have an excess of murkiness and turbidity: accumulating wealth and possessions burdens them from without, while indulging their desires adds inner impurity. The sage is untouched by dust and gives up worldly affairs entirely. Hence the phrase “seem left behind.”

Cheng’s Commentary: People are attached to “being,” and so become entangled in its abundance. The sage’s wisdom embodies “emptiness,” and alone lets go, taking nothing.

“While I alone seem left behind”

Imperial Commentary: I often seem to have too little, as though something had been forgotten.

Heshang Gong says: I alone seem abandoned, as though I had too little.

“I alone have the mind of a fool—so simple and unformed!”

Imperial Commentary: Could I really have the mind of a fool, to the point of forgetting so much? It is only that my mind is so simple and unformed that I seem left behind.

Explanatory Commentary: I have realized, in relation to all things, that nothing is to be grasped, and so I seem to have forgotten them. Can this truly be the mind of a fool? It is only that my mind is simple and unadorned, without love or desire. Hence the phrase “seem left behind.”

Heshang Gong says: “‘I alone have the mind of a fool’”—I do not go along with ordinary people; I hold to the One without wavering, like a fool. “So simple and unformed”: making no distinctions.

Rong says: Ordinary people are foolish yet think themselves wise, sinking ever deeper into the filth and confusion of desire. The sage, by contrast, has great wisdom that appears foolish. Body and spirit are empty and still, and pure whiteness grows day by day.

Cheng’s Commentary: “Simple” means unmixed. The sage’s wisdom is empty, clear, pure, and focused, like the undifferentiating mind of a fool.

“Ordinary people are bright and discerning”

Imperial Commentary: They pride themselves on their cleverness and flaunt it.

Explanatory Commentary: Ordinary people are bright and discerning, while I alone seem dull; ordinary people are sharp and scrutinizing, while I alone am subdued and unresponsive. “Bright and discerning” means pridefully flaunting one’s cleverness. “Seem dull” means appearing dim and making no distinctions. “Sharp and scrutinizing” means using teachings and rules to restrain the common people; “subdued and unresponsive” conveys a broad and generous manner.

This passage discusses the contrasting behaviors between Daoist practitioners and worldly people. Ordinary people delight in flaunting their cleverness, eagerly distinguishing right from wrong and gain from loss, while establishing various rules and regulations. In truth, they lack genuine understanding yet forcefully pretend to know everything, constantly displaying their abilities (this is the manifestation of being "conspicuously bright" [zhaozhao] and "overly discerning" [chacha]).

True sages (those who have attained the Dao), however, embody the complete opposite. Though their wisdom shines as brilliantly as the sun and moon, they deliberately conceal their radiance, appearing outwardly dull and seemingly unhappy ("as if muddled" [ruohun], "simple and dull" [menmen]). This is not actual confusion but a conscious withdrawal of their sharp edges. Their inner being remains empty and tranquil, undisturbed by worldly judgments of right and wrong or gain and loss—vast and inclusive like the ocean, allowing the winds and waves to rise and fall without clinging to any particular state ("as if having no fixed abode" [si wu suo zhi]).

Commentators like Heshang Gong and Master Rong point out that this seemingly dim-witted state actually represents the practitioner's active choice to "sheathe one's light and hide one's traces" (taoguang yanghui), relinquishing discriminating thought ("wisdom beyond distinctions"), thereby attaining a realm transcending the mundane. Though dwelling in the dusty world ("sharing the dust"), their hearts maintain constant serenity and ease ("eternally abiding in quietude"), never becoming entangled in the various rules and conceptual judgments that bind ordinary people ("not establishing laws and systems").

It gathers into stillness, yet cannot remain forever in that state of “stillness.” Thus there is no fixed place to stop, no fixed foothold.

Everyone Has Something to Rely On

People in the world each have their own “reliance” and “use” in making their way through life: they pursue external things, become absorbed in worldly learning, and keep all kinds of methods and calculations in mind.

The commentary says that ordinary people fear worldly learning but are always attached to something; they linger among external circumstances without rest. The sage, by contrast, seems “stubborn” and “base”: free of such distinctions, the sage’s mind is in fact perfectly clear, though outwardly it appears clumsy and inadequate. From “the multitude are lively and bustling” onward, the text contrasts the sage with ordinary people.

Heshanggong says that “something to rely on” means “to act and engage in purposeful activity.” Cheng’s commentary says that ordinary people are attached to objects of desire, each with something to rely on, while the sage’s subtle embodiment is empty and illusory, entirely without distinctions. The sage sees neither right nor wrong, and appears foolish and base.

I Alone Seem Stubborn and Base

The commentary explains: “Stubborn” means seeming to make no distinctions; “base” means lowly and inadequate. Yet inwardly one is awakened, while outwardly appearing deficient—hence the word “seem.”

Heshanggong says: “I alone practice Wuwei, and seem base, as though I cannot keep up with others.” Rong says this is like seeming ignorant as a fool, or unkempt as someone of low status.

I Alone Am Different from Others

People have desires and emotions; I have no attachment or indulgence. People turn away from the Dao; I am one with the Dao.

The lines “I alone am different from others, and value seeking nourishment from the Mother” express one idea together: I differ from ordinary people. Ordinary people refuse to “abandon learning,” while I differ from them. They make distinctions among things; I regard all things equally, without judging them right or wrong. Heshanggong says: “I alone differ from others.” Rong says: “I wish to differ from others and value being nourished by the Mother”—“being nourished” means using and drawing sustenance from something, and the “Mother” is the Dao. When people understand what they mean, they need no words to explain it. When things have lost their proper course, the sage establishes teachings. From “the spring terrace” onward, the text describes the ailments of purposeful activity among living beings. The sage responds to each ailment with the medicine of Wuwei. Though the medicine is the same, it treats different conditions; hence the word “different.” Ordinary people remain mired in the worldly.

Plain-Language Commentary (Main Point of This Passage)

Stillness cannot be held onto as a fixed state, so the sage has no fixed place to remain. Everyone else pursues something and has something to rely on, while the sage seems stubborn and base, without such distinctions or calculations. Ordinary people have desires, act purposefully, and become attached; the sage lets go of desire and makes no distinctions among things. That is why the text says, “I alone am different from others.” This is not a matter of trying to stand out. Rather, the sage “values seeking nourishment from the Mother,” takes the Dao as the root, and uses the medicine of Wuwei to treat the ailments of purposeful activity, in contrast to ordinary people mired in the worldly.

This passage elucidates the profound meaning of "the sage seeks nourishment from the Mother" in the Daode Jing. Here, "Mother" symbolizes the primordial source of the Dao (the Way). Just as an infant depends on its mother's sustenance, practitioners of the Dao should return to the nourishing embrace of the Great Dao.

Commentators from different perspectives offer insights: Cheng Xuanying observes that ordinary people cling to sensory pleasures and desires, while sages transcend worldly distinctions to concentrate on embodying the true Dao, thus appearing extraordinary. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (in his Imperial Commentary) interprets this state as possessing the purity and non-attachment of an infant, citing supporting passages like "like an infant that has not yet smiled" and "one whose De (Virtue/Power) is abundant resembles a newborn child."

The text clarifies that ancient sages transmitted scriptures without taboos, though later generations adapted wording for pedagogical purposes—as Sima Qian noted, Laozi's five thousand words prioritized conveying truth over rigid word counts. Emperor Xuanzong's subcommentary (Imperial Exegesis) further emphasizes Laozi's admonition to preserve one's original simplicity, reduce selfish desires, abstain from sensory indulgence and fame-seeking, maintaining an infant-like state of pure reliance on the Dao's nourishment. Heshang Gong's commentary succinctly identifies "Mother" as the Dao itself, highlighting the sage's unique harmony with the Great Dao.

Collectively, these commentaries reveal a shared truth: practitioners should emulate an infant's natural devotion to its mother—relinquishing cleverness and discrimination to innocently rely on the Dao's sustenance. This constitutes the fundamental path beyond ordinary existence.