《道德真經集義(一)》

This first volume of the Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of Dao and De was compiled by the scholar Wei Dayou from Xujiang. The opening chapter elucidates the essence of the Dao: the true Dao cannot be fully described in words—what can be spoken is not the eternal, unchanging Dao. Likewise, true names cannot be fully defined—what can be named is not the constant name. "Non-being" (wu) describes the primordial state of heaven and earth, while "being" (you) represents the source from which all things arise.

Several commentators offer profound interpretations: Master He explains that the Dao is the undifferentiated primordial Qi (yuanqi), empty and spontaneous, from which heaven, earth, and the myriad things emerge. It cannot be precisely named—"Dao" is merely a provisional designation. This supreme existence's essence cannot be fully expressed in words; what language can describe is only its temporary manifestations. The true constant Dao is empty, spontaneous, and eternally unchanging.

Master Li observes that the true constant Dao of emptiness and spontaneity should never be described in words. What can be spoken of is merely the adaptive manifestations of the primordial ancestral Qi (yuanshi zuqi, the cosmic source energy), not the Dao's essence. Similarly, what can be named only reflects the surface phenomena of heaven and earth's operations in generating the myriad things.

Master Lin emphasizes that the Dao itself transcends language—any attempt to describe it can only touch upon secondary aspects. The scripture continues: maintaining a state of desirelessness allows one to observe the Dao's profundities, while maintaining desire enables observation of the Dao's boundaries. Though these two modes of observation differ in name, they originate from the same root and are equally profound and unfathomable.

Master He further clarifies that "non-being" is not a temporary absence but has been so since antiquity. He cites the cosmological theory from the Liezi: in the stage of Grand Simplicity (taiyi), even primordial Qi had not yet manifested; Grand Commencement (taichu) marks Qi's initial stirrings, while Grand Beginning (taishi) signifies its formation into concrete configurations. These all illustrate the Dao's profound essence and its process of generating the myriad things.

The primordial state of all things is called "taisu" (the most fundamental material state). When one seeks to trace its essence, it eludes grasp, hence it is described as formless chaos. This state is neither eternal existence nor absolute nothingness, therefore it is called "the constant."

The Liezi describes the cosmic evolution process: The chaotic "Yi" (source of transformation) first gives rise to "One" (primordial Qi), which then generates "Seven" (the seven celestial luminaries), and "Seven" further produces "Nine" (the nine celestial palaces), ultimately returning again to "One." This "One" marks the beginning of form and transformation. All formed things ultimately return to the formless—when we observe concrete existence, can we not equally perceive their eventual return to nothingness? Here the character "jiao" in both Laozi's and Liezi's commentaries is interpreted as "return," referring to the ultimate destination of all things.

Zhuangzi states: "Reaching nothingness yet fulfilling all needs, racing through transformations yet having its destination"—this precisely illustrates the principle. Being and non-being appear as opposites, yet their true comprehension requires simultaneous observation. Fixation on either extreme misses the true Dao. Being and non-being share the same essence, differing only in manifestation. The Daodejing states: "All things under heaven are born from Being, and Being is born from Non-being," hence they share the same origin with different names. The subtle "non-being" is not absolute emptiness, nor is the subtle "being" fixed substantiality—thus we say "being can transform into non-being, and non-being can manifest as being." Together they constitute the "constant Dao," collectively called "xuan" (the profound cosmic origin). Both "non-being" and "being" reveal the mystery of xuan.

The Daodejing says: "All things flourish abundantly, while I observe their return to the source"—this state of returning to the origin is the "constant Dao." The scripture presents three modes of observation: "miao" (subtle essence), "jiao" (phenomenal boundaries), and "fu" (cyclical return), ultimately revealing that observing all things' return and observing phenomenal essence are one and the same.

Lin Xiyi (Song dynasty scholar) points out: The two phrases "constant non-being" and "constant being" represent Laozi's key teachings for investigating ultimate truth. The character "yu" (desire to observe) here carries deep significance, indicating this as the necessary approach to truth. Though divided into two aspects with different names, being and non-being share the same source. Viewed through the perspectives of "constant non-being" and "constant being," both may be called "xuan"—the profound mystery of creation. From this we see how could Laozi be simplistically advocating nothingness? Exclusive focus on non-being would preclude statements like "the two issue from the same source" or "both are called xuan."

Ni Si (Song dynasty scholar) maintains: Non-being and being are both constant states of Dao. "Constant non-being" refers to Dao's unmanifest state, while "constant being" denotes its manifest state. Dao is simultaneously eternal non-being and eternal being—the mutual transformation of these is indispensable. "Constant non-being" allows observation of Dao's subtle essence (miao), its internal quintessence; "constant being" enables observation of Dao's phenomenal boundaries (jiao), its external manifestations. The common misconception that Laozi exclusively taught nothingness is thus a misunderstanding.

The opening chapter of the Daode Jing presents the concepts of "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu) without favoring either. From this first chapter, we can discern Laozi's original intent in writing this text. Many commentators have interpreted "no desires" (wuyu) and "having desires" (youyu) as a single phrase, but desire is actually an obstacle that obscures the great Dao. While "no desires" can be understood, how could one advocate "having desires"?

Master Lü (Lü Dongbin) explains: "Observing the subtle" (guan miao) refers to inward contemplation. The "subtle" (miao) here denotes the primordial spirit (yuanshen, or innate consciousness), which has the power to nurture all things. Therefore, in inner cultivation (neiguan), one must rein in restless thoughts, still desires, gather spiritual energy (shen), and condense the primordial vital breath (qi) to ultimately form the "true embryo" (neidan, or internal elixir). The Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) transmitted the Scripture of Inner Observation (Neiguan Jing) and the Scripture of Stabilized Observation (Dingguan Jing), while immortals and perfected beings also left behind oral instructions on "turning the gaze inward and returning hearing to the self." The Declarations of the Perfected (Zhengao) states that inner observation is the foundation for attaining immortality. The term "manifestation" (jiao) can be understood as a boundary or as returning to the source.

Master Dong (Dong Sijing) holds that things of utmost profundity inevitably appear mysteriously dark (xuan), which manifests in the human mind as deep stillness. What Master Guan Yinzi described as "immeasurable and indivisible" refers to concepts like heaven, destiny, spirit, and the mysterious—all ultimately unified in the Dao.

Some may ask: Why do other commentaries parse the text as "constantly without desire" (chang wuyu) and "constantly with desire" (chang youyu), while here we adopt the parsing "constant non-being" (chang wu) and "constant being" (chang you)? In truth, both interpretations are reasonable in principle. But if we follow the "constantly with desire" reading, it becomes difficult to connect with the subsequent concept of the "mysterious" (xuan)—how could having desires be considered mysterious? Some argue that "having desires" refers to cultivating the Dao through exhausting the physical form—an ingenious but still forced interpretation. The parsing "constant non-being" and "constant being" is more straightforward and coherent, hence our adoption of this reading.

"The mysterious within the mysterious, the gateway to all subtleties" (xuan zhi you xuan, zhong miao zhi men): Master He (He Xinshan) explains that the subtlety of the noumenon is subtle, and the subtlety of phenomena is also subtle—hence "all subtleties" (zhong miao). Master Lin (Lin Xiyi) suggests that "the mysterious within the mysterious" expresses admiration for its profundity, while "all subtleties" resembles the Book of Changes' description of "subtly nurturing all things," with "gateway" (men) indicating the origin of all things. Many readers interpret this chapter solely from the perspective of heaven and earth, unaware that Laozi's true intent was for people to realize it through their innate nature. Master Lü adds: "Mysterious" (xuan) signifies ultimate refinement and also represents heavenly Dao. "The mysterious within the mysterious" is the supreme Dao within the heavenly Dao, corresponding in the human body to the "Celestial Valley Spirit Palace" (shang dantian, or upper elixir field) at the crown of the head.

This passage discusses two key aspects of Daoist cultivation:

The first part reveals the essential method of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. The brain (referred to as the "jade chamber") and bodily fluids (called "mountain source") serve as dwelling places for the hundred spirits within the human body, where the Great Lord of longevity resides. Through the practice of inner observation, when practitioners perceive the "Heaven within Heaven" (their primordial Qi) within themselves, they naturally form the embryonic immortal (internal elixir). At this stage, the Heavenly Gate (Baihui point at the crown) opens spontaneously, allowing myriad spirits to pass through—this is what's known as the "Gate of All Mysteries." Commentators further explain that this gate functions like the pivotal mechanism of heaven and earth's opening and closing, serving as the passage for all phenomena and the source of the Dao's profound mysteries.

The second part examines the relativity of beauty/ugliness and good/evil. When people universally recognize something as beautiful, the concept of ugliness emerges; when everyone acknowledges certain actions as good, the notion of "not good" appears. True Dao cultivators transcend these dualistic concepts by merging with all existence. Ordinary people, clinging to subjective views, mistakenly equate external appearances with beauty and fame/wealth with goodness, leading to confused judgments. These concepts are interdependent—without ugliness there can be no beauty, without "not good" there can be no good. Thus, conscious knowledge of beauty proves less pure than unconscious appreciation, and deliberate recognition of goodness less perfect than natural virtue.

Commentators emphasize that the great Dao, though formless, contains all perfection within heaven and earth. The supreme goodness resides in the transformations of Yin-Yang, where conceptual understanding proves inferior to the state of Wuwei (non-action). Those who truly attain the Dao rise above these relative distinctions, no longer deliberately separating beauty from ugliness or good from evil.

This passage elucidates the principle of unity in opposites. When people consider certain things beautiful, their opposites become ugly; when certain actions are universally deemed good, other actions appear less virtuous. To transcend such duality, one must rise above the discriminating mind that separates beauty from ugliness and good from evil.

Lin Xiyi (Master Lin) explains that this chapter teaches the principle of "having without clinging." The conceptualization of beauty inevitably gives rise to ugliness, just as standards of goodness create their opposites. But if one can recognize beauty without attachment, understand virtue without flaunting it, the distinctions between good and evil naturally dissolve.

The text then illustrates this with six pairs of complementary opposites: being (you) and non-being (wu) generate each other, difficulty and ease complete each other, length and shortness define each other, height and lowness depend on each other, notes and tones harmonize with each other, and front and back follow each other. He Tan (Master He) elaborates: speaking of "non-being" implies "being," and vice versa; difficult tasks begin with simple steps, while simple matters may become complex; a foot is longer than an inch, yet an inch has its own brevity; mountains may become valleys, and valleys may rise as peaks. Like fledgling cranes responding to their parents' calls, shadows following forms, or front and back always paired—all demonstrate this principle.

Li Xizhai (Master Li) adds: being emerges from non-being, which in turn transforms back into being. The difficult becomes easy, the easy may turn difficult. The long shortens, the short lengthens. Height implies depth, sound evokes response, front follows back as back follows front. Thus all opposites—being and non-being, difficulty and ease—exist in mutual dependence and perpetual transformation.

Lü Huiqing (Master Lü) interprets through the lens of yin-yang (the Two Modes): once yin and yang separate, all phenomena acquire their counterparts. Through these six pairs—mutual generation of being/non-being, completion through difficulty/ease, definition through length/shortness, interdependence of height/depth, harmony of notes/tones, and succession of front/back—we see how all deliberate actions contain this unity of opposites.

Finally, the text addresses the sage's way of being. Ouyang Xiu observes that while Laozi's teachings may appear abstract, their application to governance is profound. The sage (one who embodies the Dao) understands that "non-being" is the pivotal essence of the great Dao. Thus while others bustle with activity, the sage practices non-action (wuwei); while people engage in endless debate, the sage teaches through wordless example. He Tan clarifies: the sage apprehends the subtlety of non-action, remaining detached when others chase external things, silent when they indulge in empty talk.

This passage explains how the sage (the Daoist ideal of an enlightened being) approaches all things with an attitude of Wuwei (non-action). Laozi observes that all phenomena in the world exist in relative pairs—being and non-being, difficulty and ease, long and short, high and low, musical notes and ordinary sounds, front and back—and these dualistic concepts inevitably create burdens for people. Therefore, the sage transcends all things, refusing to form oppositional relationships with any phenomenon. This is the state described in the Dao De Jing as "standing alone without changing."

The sage acts without deliberate effort and teaches without words, forgetting both language and form while silently aligning with the natural order. As Zhuangzi said, the highest form of action is to eliminate deliberate action, and the most profound speech is to speak without words. Thus, the sage handles affairs with Wuwei and instructs through "wordless teaching."

All things grow naturally without the sage's interference. The sage nurtures without possessing, acts without claiming credit, and accomplishes without dwelling on achievements. Precisely because the sage does not dwell on merit, the merit never fades. Heaven and Earth give birth to countless transformations without cease, yet never grow weary; the myriad things fill the cosmos, yet Heaven and Earth never claim ownership. Just as spring fosters growth and autumn enforces decay, the natural order never boasts of its power.

The three phrases—"nurturing without possessing, acting without claiming, succeeding without dwelling"—illustrate this principle. "Acting" here resembles the Yijing's Kun hexagram, which generates all things without assertion, or the virtue of ancient sage-kings like Shun and Yu, who ruled the world without treating it as personal property. Deliberate possession leads to loss, while non-possession ensures true ownership. As the Shangshu states, "To boast of goodness is to lose it." Thus, only by not dwelling on merit can achievements endure.

The sage merges with the Dao, engaging effortlessly and responding to all things without rigidity. As phenomena operate naturally, the sage reacts spontaneously, like an echo in a valley that neither rejects beauty nor ugliness. All things manifest their own forms and colors, arising and transforming according to their nature, and the sage never turns them away.

This scripture elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei).

Regarding the relationship between self and things, it states: All things do not truly belong to me, yet I must align with their natural course; nor am I an absolute self, for I must cultivate my being. Thus, one should follow all things without possessing them, refine the self without clinging to it. Just as sunlight and rain nourish all beings yet claim no virtue, and heaven and earth embrace everything yet presume no greatness. True accomplishment leaves no trace—achievements may cover the world yet seem unrelated to oneself. To grasp at possession leads only to loss. Only by not claiming merit, not possessing, and not presuming can one transcend worldly attachments and harmonize with all existence.

Master Wu adds that heaven and earth nurture all things without possession or claim to merit, hence they endure eternally. Master Dong interprets this chapter as guiding practitioners toward a state beyond fame and profit, where self is forgotten and attachments dissolve.

Chapter Three discusses the principles of governing the state and cultivating the self: Do not excessively exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend; do not prize rare treasures, and theft will cease; do not display desires, and minds will remain undisturbed. Master Li explains that refraining from flaunting one’s talents preserves simplicity in customs; avoiding pursuit of exotic luxuries ensures the people’s prosperity; concealing desires stabilizes the heart-mind. Master Wu further clarifies that "exalting" means to revere, "prizing" means to treasure, and "displaying" means to reveal. Master Lin illustrates this with the example of Yu the Great, who tamed the floods without claiming credit—thus avoiding contention by not showcasing his abilities.

Finally, it speaks of the sage’s cultivation: maintaining an empty and tranquil heart-mind (preserving innate nature), enriching the inner self (preserving life), diminishing desires (preserving spirit), and strengthening the body (preserving form). Master Lü notes that the earlier admonitions against coveting treasures and displaying desires embody the principle of "emptying the heart."

This passage elucidates essential principles for cultivating body and mind. "Not exalting the worthy" (avoiding forced admiration of talent) serves to temper excessive willpower. If one merely pursues "emptying the heart-mind" (achieving mental clarity), one may fall into vacuous nothingness; if one solely emphasizes "weakening the will" (diminishing attachments), it may lead to loss of initiative. Therefore, when sages cultivate themselves, they maintain both mental clarity and substantial internal energy.

"Emptying the heart-mind" resembles cleaning a room until spotless, free from dust. Yet mental clarity alone is insufficient—one must employ cultivation methods like "harmonizing breath with the Great Peace" (breath regulation) and "ingesting celestial essences" (absorbing cosmic vitality) to assimilate "primordial qi of mysterious brilliance" (innate vital energy) and "celestial nourishment of the Great Brahma" (cosmic essence) to enrich one's inner being. How could merely clinging to emptiness achieve the transcendent states of physical transformation and ascension?

"Weakening the will" maintains humility and discretion, yet upon hearing truth, one must diligently practice it, as the Yijing states: "Heaven moves vigorously; the noble person strengthens himself without ceasing." Practitioners circulate energy through "revolving the celestial cycles" (microcosmic orbit) to open the "three passes" (key energy points), filling the brain with refined essence (Jing) and qi, thereby strengthening bones. Thus weakening attachments and strengthening the physical form must be balanced.

Master He further explains: "Emptying the heart" returns to original purity, while "filling the belly" accumulates essence and qi; "weakening the will" focuses on gentle concentration, while "strengthening bones" manifests through diligent practice. Master Chai supplements: By avoiding self-promotion, coveting external things, and reducing desires, mental clarity naturally arises; with abundant internal essence and qi, bones naturally grow robust.

Finally, governance principles are discussed: Let people maintain simple authenticity, eliminating cunning minds and excessive desires. As Zhuangzi states, "Being united in unknowing, their virtue cannot depart"—returning to innate simplicity, all naturally find their proper places. Rulers practice "governing through non-action" (Wuwei), avoiding forceful interference, thereby achieving optimal governance effortlessly.

When the ancient sage-kings governed the world, they adopted the method of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)," as natural as the spring breeze and rain, leaving no trace of deliberate intervention. In those times, the people's customs were simple and honest, with little cunning in their hearts. Even when occasional cleverness arose, they dared not act recklessly. The secret of the sage's governance lay precisely in this—they did not force things but followed the natural order, thereby achieving the most effective governance.

Master Lü (Lü Dongbin) explained that non-action itself is the manifestation of the great Dao (Daode). The sage guides from above with the great Dao, while the people naturally follow below, adhering to the Dao's principles whether in the morning or evening, in favorable or adverse circumstances. True non-action means not acting with deliberate intent. If one acts with selfish motives, the result will only be physical and mental exhaustion. Conversely, if one follows nature's flow—like the cultivator who refines essence (Jing), breathes the primal Qi of heaven and earth, and practices internal alchemy (Neidan) to circulate energy between heaven and earth—harmony of body and mind can be achieved, leading to boundless wonders.

Master Dong further pointed out that the core of this chapter lies in relinquishing lofty status, eliminating distracting thoughts, and returning to the state of non-action, only then can one unite with the supreme truth.

Chapter Four describes the nature of the Dao: the Dao appears empty (chong), yet its function is inexhaustible; it is profound as an abyss, seeming to be the origin (zong) of all things. Master Wu interpreted the word "or" as indicating uncertainty—the essence of the Dao is void, and those who apply it should also maintain emptiness without fullness, for fullness deviates from the Dao. The word "seems" similarly conveys uncertainty, illustrating how the Dao's nature as the origin of all things defies precise description.

Master He explained using Zhuangzi's philosophy: only by understanding "uselessness" can one truly grasp "usefulness." Just as a vessel loses its function when full, the wonder of the Dao lies in maintaining emptiness. Master Lin added that while the Dao's essence is void, its function is limitless, with fullness and emptiness shifting according to circumstance. The phrase "origin of all things" resonates with Zhuangzi's concept of the "Great Ancestral Teacher" (the highest mentor).

Master Li believed that "the Dao is empty, yet its use is inexhaustible" serves as a warning against self-satisfaction. Those who remain humble and never complacent will instead receive greater benefits. This embodies the Daoist wisdom of "keeping a mind as open as a valley."

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "chonghe" (harmonious emptiness). The character "chong" (冲) combines water (水) and center (中), representing the primordial true water of innate Qi (a technical term denoting the purest energy in human body) contained within one's vital energy. This harmonious Qi of emptiness nourishes the valley spirit (谷神, referring to the inner spiritual essence). Practitioners who master the application of this harmonious Qi may attain the state of ascending to Mount Kunlun (the Daoist sacred mountain).

Yan Junping (a Han dynasty Daoist scholar) explains that the essence of "chong" is emptiness, while the essence of "he" (harmony) is wuwei (non-action). Taking emptiness as fundamental naturally prevents excessive fullness. Precisely because it doesn't overflow, it can embrace all things like an abyss. This unfathomably deep and perfectly still abyss embodies the Dao itself. As the origin of all things, the Dao generates the One, the One generates the Two, the Two generates the Three, and the Three generates all things—naturally becoming the ancestor of all creation.

The subsequent section interprets the four phrases beginning with "blunting its sharpness": Master Wu observes that conspicuous sharpness inevitably dulls, just as dazzling radiance must fade, mirroring how fullness leads to overflow. Therefore, the Dao never seeks fullness, preferring to blunt sharp edges and harmonize brilliance. Master Lin further explains: "blunting sharpness" means smoothing edges into perfect roundness; "untying knots" means maintaining order amidst chaos; "harmonizing radiance" means internalizing brilliance; "mixing with dust" means blending with worldly affairs without ostentatious purity.

Master Li synthesizes these four phrases as describing the state of empty stillness and self-forgetting. Master Lü adds: "blunting sharpness" tempers aggressive ambition into serenity; "untying knots" quiets turbulent thoughts into silence; "radiance" refers to inner luminosity while "dust" signifies mundane existence. As Zhuangzi said, a tranquil heart emits natural radiance, just as Confucians teach that inner fulfillment manifests outwardly. When practitioners achieve harmonious emptiness, heaven-earth essence flows through their limbs—their inner plenitude naturally shines forth, distinguishing them from ordinary people.

Through multilayered interpretations by various commentators, this text progressively reveals the essential Daoist practice of "harmonious emptiness": maintaining empty stillness, tempering sharpness, and following nature's flow, ultimately achieving unity with the Dao.

The truly substantial person naturally radiates spiritual brilliance, yet must maintain a gentle, yielding demeanor that blends with worldly affairs. Even amidst chaotic environments, one should refrain from making deliberate distinctions or choices. Otherwise, people will perceive you as arrogant, eccentric, and contrary to common norms.

Master He explains: The so-called "empty" state requires four practices - smoothing sharp edges, resolving conflicts, harmonizing radiance, and blending with worldly dust. When these four are achieved without leaving traces, the mind becomes as clear and vast as the primordial void (Taixu), responding to all things with serene emptiness and functioning through balanced harmony. The chapter's repeated use of phrases like "seems as if" deserves careful contemplation.

Regarding "clear and deep, it seems to exist," Master Wu explains: "Clear and deep" (zhan) denotes transparent stillness. The essence of Dao is emptiness, hence its existence appears both present and absent. Master Lü adds: This crystalline state seems to exist yet isn't substantial, manifesting as neither being nor non-being. Like Confucius described - "The higher you look, the loftier it appears; the deeper you probe, the more profound it becomes. Clearly before you, yet suddenly behind." Master Lin says this indistinct, seemingly existent-yet-nonexistent quality explains why it's called "clear and deep, it seems to exist."

Concerning "I know not whose child it is, it appears before the Divine Sovereign," Master Wu interprets: The first half poses the question, the latter answers. "Appears" (xiang) refers to the formed heavens, while "Divine Sovereign" (di) denotes the supreme ruler. Even heaven and earth originate from Dao, hence it precedes them. Master Li identifies this as the primordial state before the differentiation of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Master Lü connects this to the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Classic), suggesting "whose child" actually refers to each person's inherent true nature - existing since antiquity, older than the most ancient times, hence "before the Divine Sovereign." Master Dong concludes this chapter reveals Dao's essence as mysteriously empty yet immeasurable in function.

Chapter Five states: "Heaven and earth are not benevolent, treating all things as straw dogs; the sage is not benevolent, treating people as straw dogs." Master Wu explains: "Benevolence" here means deliberate affection. Straw dogs were grass effigies used in rain rituals, discarded after use. Heaven and earth don't deliberately cherish creatures but let them grow naturally; sages don't deliberately cherish people but let them live autonomously. The straw dog metaphor illustrates how heaven, earth and sages approach all things with natural wuwei (non-action).

The text uses the metaphor of straw dogs (ancient sacrificial objects) to illustrate how the sage's mind remains empty and unattached. If one deliberately strives to love the people, the mind loses its emptiness. Lin Xiyi explains: Nurturing all things is an expression of benevolence (De), yet Heaven and Earth give life without claiming merit, coexisting with all things naturally without conscious attachment. Similarly, the sage cares for the people without asserting kindness, interacting with them spontaneously rather than through forced concern. "Not benevolent" (不仁) here means not consciously flaunting one's virtue—like straw dogs used solemnly in rituals but discarded afterward, symbolizing natural engagement without clinging to form.

The Daode Jing states: "Highest De does not display itself as De, thus it is truly De." Here, "not benevolent" parallels "not virtuous." Zhuangzi's "great benevolence is not benevolent" conveys the same idea—in an age of perfect Dao, people cared for one another without labeling it as virtue. Lü Huiqing elaborates: Heaven and Earth appear indifferent yet produce boundless grace; sages achieve great benevolence precisely by not contriving it, their selflessness earning the term "not benevolent." Heaven shelters all impartially, Earth bears all without bias, and the sage teaches without partiality. Life arises and passes solely according to the movement of primordial Qi (cosmic energy), with neither Heaven, Earth, nor sages imposing interference.

Consider the straw dog: fashioned for ritual, it is cradled in ornate boxes, draped in embroidered cloth, and reverently held by priests—only to be trampled by passersby or burned by cooks afterward. Similarly, Heaven and Earth seem tender when nurturing growth in spring and summer, yet cannot halt autumn's withering; the sage's compassion appears in nurturing the people but cannot avert death. The straw dog’s cycle—honored when needed, discarded when spent—mirrors the impartiality of cosmic and sagely ways. It is through this "not benevolent" detachment that Heaven and Earth reveal their greatness. Li Yue concludes: While cosmic care embodies ultimate benevolence, labeling it "not benevolent" reminds us to look beyond superficial virtue. The sage’s governance and self-cultivation (dual cultivation of nature and life, 性命双修) follow this very principle.

The space between heaven and earth is like a bellows (tuoyue, an ancient wind-making device) — seemingly empty yet never collapsing; the more it moves, the more wind it produces. Speaking too much tends to exhaust one's vital energy (Qi); it is better to maintain inner emptiness and stillness.

Wu Cheng explains: The bellows is a tool for producing wind to aid fire. Heaven and earth resemble a giant bellows — the "tuo" represents boundless emptiness, while the "yue" symbolizes the ceaseless flow of primordial energy (Xiantian Qi). "Never collapsing" means perpetual motion, and "producing more" signifies endless generation. Precisely because the bellows is hollow inside can the windpipe continuously transform energy; when the windpipe moves, the bellows generates increasingly abundant energy. If humans can achieve mental purity free from distractions, their energy channels will remain unobstructed, allowing primordial energy to circulate regularly while generating endless power from emptiness and stillness. "Excessive" refers to rapid depletion, while "exhaustion" means energy depletion. Excessive speech drains one's primordial energy and accelerates its exhaustion. Far better to maintain inner emptiness, preserve one's spirit (Shen), and prevent external disturbances from disrupting internal balance — thus the realm of emptiness becomes infinitely vast, generating inexhaustible energy.

Lin Xiyi adds: The bellows creates wind when moved — though hollow inside, its function never ceases, producing more wind the more it's pumped. The same principle applies to heaven and earth's generation of all things: just as the bellows doesn't deliberately make wind, heaven and earth don't deliberately create. Hence this metaphor illustrates how attempting to exhaust the Dao's principles through words leads to dead ends, while silence transcends language. Confucius' saying "Does heaven speak? The four seasons revolve and all things grow" conveys precisely this meaning.

Li Daochun views this chapter as continuing the profound message of "the Dao appears empty yet functions" from the previous text: Heaven and earth resemble a bellows, with emptiness and stillness being key. "Empty yet never collapsing" refers to natural non-action (Wuwei), "moving yet producing more" denotes adaptive capacity, and "guarding the center" means preserving the original mind of emptiness. Lu Xixing interprets "collapse" as "exhaustion." The Wenshi Jing records: When the Mysterious Dao Perfected Being asked Laozi about the essentials of self-cultivation, Laozi replied it lies in "guarding the center and embracing unity, deepening roots and securing foundations." Asked what "guarding the center" means, Laozi said "center" refers to the middle palace (Dantian) in the human body — akin to the state where a fetus connects to its mother through the umbilical cord.

(Note: This scripture passage uses the bellows metaphor to expound the core Daoist concept of "generation through emptiness and stillness." Practitioners who maintain inner emptiness can achieve a state of inexhaustible energy generation. "Guarding the center" serves both as cultivation method and implies the health-preserving practice of focusing on the Dantian.)

This passage elucidates two core concepts in Daoist cultivation: the practice of the Dantian (Central Palace, Yellow Court) and the theory of the "Valley Spirit that never dies."

Regarding Dantian cultivation: In the womb, a fetus breathes in synchrony with its mother's respiration. After ten months of gestation, when Jing (essence) becomes abundant and Shen (spirit) fully developed, birth occurs like ripe fruit detaching from its stem. The area three inches below the human navel is called the Central Palace (known as the Qi Sea in men and the Uterus in women). The Supreme Lord Laozi's essential teaching states: One must single-mindedly guard this Central Palace to prevent the leakage of vital essence. "Diligently guarding the center" means concentrating intention to preserve the ocean of primordial Qi; "not entering or exiting" refers to allowing natural respiration to settle in this Qi sea without forced control; "returning to the fundamental origin" indicates the navel as the source of twelve thousand five hundred breaths and the root of vitality for all organs - practitioners should guide respiration back to this origin through focused awareness to stabilize breathing.

Concerning the "Valley Spirit that never dies": The "valley" signifies the Celestial Valley (the void space at the crown of the head), while "spirit" denotes the body's primordial Shen. Both heaven and earth possess their "valleys": Heaven's valley contains creation and embraces emptiness; Earth's valley bears all things and encompasses mountains and rivers. Corresponding to this cosmic pattern, the human head contains nine palaces mirroring the nine heavens, with the central palace called the Mud Ball Palace (also known as the Purple Mansion). Beyond these exists another palace with multiple names: Vast Heaven, Celestial Pass, Jade Capital Mountain, Kunlun Summit, Great Abyss Pool, and Celestial Valley - the dwelling place of primordial Shen. This space resembles an empty valley where the spirit resides, hence "Valley Spirit." The presence of primordial Shen sustains life, while its departure brings death. Daily sensory engagement and nightly dreams both indicate the spirit's restlessness. Should this spirit depart permanently, death ensues. Humans cannot determine their own life and death - this sovereignty belongs to the primordial Shen. The spirit's immortality derives from the "Mysterious Feminine" (the foundation of Yin-Yang). "Mysterious" represents Yang and heaven, while "Feminine" embodies Yin and earth. "Mysterious" manifests as heaven's color, symbolizing pure Yang's ethereal Qi that floats lightly in the heavens; "Feminine" expresses earth's receptive, yielding nature.

This passage elucidates the Daoist cultivation concept of the "Mysterious Feminine" (Xuanpin), the primordial source of Yin-Yang energies. The earth embodies pure Yin-Qi, heavy and turbid like grains settling downward. The character for "Feminine" (pin 牝) combines "Qi" (气) and "rice" (米), symbolizing its primordial role as the nurturing source of all existence since the beginning of time.

The interplay of Yin-Yang energies manifests in the rhythm of breath. Practitioners employ specific methods to regulate this dynamic: reversing natural tendencies by restraining Yin's growth while returning to the source to prevent Yang's decline. This transforms the seemingly insubstantial into substance, and substance into insubstantiality. The essence (Jing) of earthly grains ascends while the ethereal Qi of heaven descends. When celestial Qi returns to the body, turbid Yin impurities dissipate naturally, allowing restoration of pure Yang constitution. Thus, celestial Qi governs the nine heavens' ethereal souls.

Both the Mysterious (celestial) and Feminine (earthly) energies contain profound meanings—only through oral transmission from realized masters can one truly comprehend them. Understanding their operational principles reveals the mystery of Xuanpin: absorbing harmonized heaven-earth Qi, receiving primordial energy to nourish the spirit (Shen). When Shen relies on primordial Qi, it returns to life's source for immortality—this is Xuanpin's function. Hence the saying: "The valley spirit never dies—this is called the Mysterious Feminine."

Classics like the Ling Shu and Divine Manifestation Inner Canon record: guarding the Niwan Palace (upper Dantian) enables return to primordial authenticity, where upper and lower Xuanpin interact like mother and child. Xuanpin serves as heaven-earth's crucible—through Shen, adepts seize creation's secrets by mastering its ascending-descending rhythms.

Scholar He explains: "Valley" signifies emptiness where Shen resides. Humans age and die because dissipated spirits lack quiet cultivation. Even sitting all day with wandering thoughts leaves the valley non-empty and spirit absent—how could death not follow? Only by seeking subtlety in profound darkness and perceiving truth in twilight states, unifying form-spirit with the Dao, can longevity be achieved. Mysterious heaven embodies emptiness; feminine earth embodies stillness. Those who accumulate emptiness to commune with spirits and maintain stillness to nurture true nature grasp Xuanpin's deathless path.

Scholar Li interprets: "The valley spirit never dies" describes the lucid, undimmed state of emptiness, while "Mysterious Feminine" denotes Yin-Yang interaction. The "gate of the Mysterious Feminine" marks their portal of exchange. Before the Niwan Palace lies the Mingtang acupoint descending to the nose—thus the nose becomes the "Mysterious Gate" connecting the six viscera.

This passage explains the crucial Daoist cultivation concepts of the "Mysterious Feminine Gate" (xuanpin zhi men) and the "Root of Heaven and Earth" (tiandi zhi gen). Within the human body lies an important region called the "Yellow Court" (huangting), located above the Dantian (energy center) and connected to the mouth through the "Tower of Twelve Stories" (chonglou, referring to the trachea). The mouth is termed the "Feminine Gate" (pinmen), serving as the passage connecting the five viscera and expelling turbid Qi. As it connects with earthly energies, it's called the "Earthly Root."

Many practitioners misunderstand this fundamental principle, mistakenly identifying the nose as the "Mysterious Gate" (xuanmen, the passage for absorbing clear Qi) and the mouth as the "Feminine Gate." In truth, the authentic Mysterious Feminine Gate holds deeper secrets. During cultivation, when one attains a state of profound stillness and enters this gateway, one grasps the fundamental principle of Heaven and Earth. Heaven endows humans with "Qi" (primordial energy), while Earth bestows "Jing" (vital essence). When these two converge, they form "Shen" (original spirit) - the very root of life. By preserving this root, one gains mastery over their own life, achieving the state where "my destiny lies with me, not Heaven."

The Mysterious (xuan) represents Yang and Heaven (Qian), while the Feminine (pin) embodies Yin and Earth (Kun). This gateway functions like the opening and closing passage between Heaven and Earth, akin to how roots serve as the fundamental basis for a tree's growth. The Yi Jing's statement that "Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) generates the Two Forms" and "Qian and Kun are the gates of Change" expresses this same principle. The opening and closing movements of Yin-Yang energies create Heaven and Earth, with this gateway operating like bellows (tuoyue) - the pivotal mechanism of all transformations. Before the formation of Heaven and Earth, there already existed "Primordial Qi" (yuanqi), which constitutes the fundamental root of creation.

The phrase "continuous as if existing, used without strain" describes the breathing method in cultivation. Breathing should be as continuous as a fine thread - neither too hurried nor too lax. Maintain a state of seeming existence yet seeming absence, allowing the true breath (natural respiration) to reach a state of tranquil harmony. Like a turtle storing its breath or a snake hibernating, this occurs naturally without conscious effort. The Zhuangzi's description of "the true person breathes from their heels" and the Huangdi Neijing's reference to "chaotic resonance, rising clouds refining the root" both depict this state of unbroken, effortless natural breathing.

This scripture primarily expounds on the philosophical principles of "the relationship between spirit and form" and "the Dao of Wuwei (non-action)."

Regarding the relationship between Shen (spirit) and form: Human life resides in the Shen (spirit), which relies on the physical form. Overuse of Shen leads to exhaustion, while excessive strain on the body causes damage. When Shen and form separate, death occurs. If Shen can maintain prolonged existence, the Qi (vital energy) within the body won't be depleted. Like the natural rhythm of opening and closing, orderly movement and stillness without disorder allows for continuous regeneration.

The text cites a legend from the Yellow Emperor's era, recounting how Laozi (Lord Lao) once manifested as Guangchengzi to teach this principle to the Yellow Emperor. The reason heaven and earth endure is precisely because they don't deliberately pursue their own survival, but rather operate naturally to nourish all things. As the Daode Jing states: "They produce and nurture without possessing, cultivate without controlling" - this represents the most profound De (virtue).

Sages emulate the Dao of heaven and earth: by not putting themselves first, they naturally lead; by not deliberately preserving themselves, they endure. This isn't because they lack self-interest, but precisely through such "selflessness" they achieve fulfillment. Like heaven and earth encompassing all things, sages become one with all existence. While others rush forward, they remain behind; while others seek substance, they maintain emptiness. Though their physical form appears external, the Great Dao resides within.

Note: In this text, "Shen" refers to human consciousness and spirit, "Qi" denotes life energy, and "form" indicates the physical body. "Profound De" signifies the deepest virtue, while "Guangchengzi" represents one of Laozi's legendary manifestations. These concepts constitute essential terminology in Daoist cultivation philosophy.

The Sage (referring to one who has attained the highest state of Dao realization) takes the great Dao as their foundation, transcending the limitations of physical form, and thus harbors no selfish thoughts or distractions. Precisely because of this, the Sage can stand equal with Heaven and Earth in eternal existence.

Master Wu explains: The term "behind" refers to willingly taking the humble position behind others; "ahead" signifies exalted virtue that transcends worldly concerns; "external" denotes the state of serene non-action (Wuwei) without deliberate striving; "enduring" means achieving longevity and abiding with the Dao. "Selflessness" manifests as willingly staying behind others while transcending physical form; "fulfilling their self" paradoxically means becoming foremost among people and enduring through time. The Sage does not deliberately pursue personal gain, yet naturally attains such a state. If ordinary people attempt to imitate this with selfish intentions, they might ironically achieve their personal aims.

Master Li observes: The Sage never proclaims themselves as sagely, thus harmonizing with the virtue (De) of Heaven and Earth. Master Lin further elaborates: When cultivating themselves, the Sage neither deliberately seeks to lead nor follow, nor clings to external or internal aspects, therefore no one can surpass them—instead they achieve lasting existence. This state of being "selfless" yet "fulfilling their self" does not refer to the conventional concept of selfish interest. To interpret it as ordinary selfish desire would violate the original intent of non-attachment. This reveals the profound meaning behind Laozi's guidance toward goodness.

The Buddhist interpretation describes this as "true emptiness and actual existence": "True emptiness" corresponds to the selfless state, while "actual existence" refers to the natural fulfillment that arises. Heshang Gong (the renowned commentator on the Daode Jing) points out: What ordinary people understand as "self-interest" is the satisfaction of personal desires, whereas the Sage, through selflessness, naturally attains complete fulfillment.