《道德真經集義(一)》Vol. 4

This chapter expounds the Daoist wisdom for navigating life and cultivating oneself. What bends may be preserved whole; what yields may become straight; what is hollow may be filled; what is worn may be renewed; taking less may gain more, while grasping for abundance leads only to confusion.

Master Lü explains that sages (those who have attained the Dao) perceive with profound insight, their every action aligned with heavenly principle. Where heavenly principle resides, none in the world can oppose it. For refining one's nature, nothing surpasses illuminating the mind to perceive true nature; for preserving oneself, nothing surpasses distancing from harm. Thus those who understand the Way of bending know when to advance or withdraw, their words and deeds always timely, never contending with external things. In this way they preserve their De (Virtue) intact and achieve the supreme virtue of non-contention.

The truly enlightened see clearly without ostentation, encounter adversity without resentment, stand straight as an arrow yet reveal no sharp point. Like the inchworm that contracts to extend further, temporary bending manifests ultimate straightness. Rivers naturally gather in low places, just as humility naturally attracts virtue. Those who embody the Dao may appear fragmented yet contain pure whiteness within; seemingly simple and chaotic, yet genuinely steadfast. Thus all under heaven willingly revere them, and their Dao practice renews daily.

Master Yang (Yang Zhu) once discussed the Way of old and new: new things become old, while the old gives birth to new. Those who can maintain daily renewal of virtue will not be corrupted by external things. The Dao does not reside in complexity—broad knowledge cannot compare to holding to simplicity. What is simple is easy to practice; what is concise is easy to follow. Those who nurture life reduce thoughts and desires; persisting in this, they attain the Dao.

The human mind always prefers contention and values abundance. But the Dao does not esteem multiplicity—excess leads only to disorder. Many forks in the road cause one to lose the way; excessive learning makes one lose the Dao. In self-cultivation, excessive thinking scatters the Shen (spirit); too much cleverness drowns one in intellect—both violate the principle of "embracing the One" (holding single-mindedly to the Dao).

Master He concludes that this chapter begins with "bending makes whole" and returns to the naturally complete Dao. Like all rivers returning to the sea—their countless twists never hinder their eastward flow. The Dao itself isn't obtained through forced compromise, but because it is inherently complete. External bending is merely the process of returning to original authenticity.

All things between heaven and earth achieve completion through winding paths. One must understand that the most complete principles of existence are actually contained within ourselves. In interacting with all beings, we should learn to follow and adapt to changes, flowing naturally like water ripples, for it is difficult to walk the Great Dao (the Way) in perfectly straight lines in this world. Yet this does not contradict the essence of the Dao, nor does it resemble the later behavior of petty individuals who deliberately flatter and distort.

The true Dao is originally straight and balanced in nature, yet its external manifestation requires bending to preserve itself; the Dao itself is perfectly round, yet it presents itself in lowly and humble forms (referring to how cultivators must maintain humility to progress); the Dao is eternally new, yet it maintains an outwardly worn appearance (meaning practitioners should conceal their brilliance). Taking less actually allows one to obtain the essence, while greed leads to confusion. As the Liezi states: "When there are too many forks in the road, the sheep will get lost"—when seekers of the Dao have too many methods, they may lose the true path.

Lin Xiyi explains: Only by bending can one preserve; only by yielding can one become straight; only by being low can one become full; only by appearing old can one renew; only through simplicity can one attain abundance. These all describe how seemingly insufficient states lead to true fulfillment, how through "true emptiness" (letting go of attachments) one achieves real attainment. The phrase "less brings gain, more brings confusion" expands upon this principle that "less is more."

Therefore, the sage holds fast to the "One" (the fundamental principle of the Dao) as the standard for all under heaven. Lü Huiqing explains: This "One" represents the true nature of a person. In Daoism, the "One" has different meanings—there is the "One" of the Dao (the formless essence), the "One" of Shen (spirit, the primordial true spirit), the "One" of Qi (primordial energy), and the "One" of water (referring to the numerical principle that "heaven produces water as the first element"). The "embracing the One" mentioned here refers to the "One" of true unity.

In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor once journeyed to Mount Emei to inquire from the Celestial Sovereign (Tianzhen Huangren) about the Dao of True Unity. The Celestial Sovereign replied: "This is the most profound secret of Daoism, so treasured that even heaven conceals it within the Five Citadels." The classics record: The True One resides in the Great Abyss of the North Pole, with the Bright Hall (mingtang, referring to the space between the eyebrows) before it, the Crimson Palace (jiangong, the heart cavity) behind it, the Canopy (huagai, the crown of the head) above, and golden towers arching around it. This describes the sacred chamber where the True One dwells—the interconnected cavity between the ears (referring to acupuncture points), with the Bright Hall in front, the Jade Pillow (yuzhen, the occiput) behind, the Canopy above, and the Crimson Palace below (the heart region). This is the location of the Muddy Pellet Palace (niwan gong, the upper Dantian), where the primordial spirit resides. Because the ears belong to the kidney meridian, it is called "within the Great Abyss of the North Pole."

(Note: This passage primarily expounds the Daoist dialectical concept of "bending leads to wholeness" and the essential practice of "guarding the One." Through the mapping of bodily acupuncture points, it illustrates the location of the True One, reflecting the Daoist cultivation view of internal-external correspondence.)

This scripture passage primarily discusses how practitioners of the Dao should adhere to the principle of "embracing the One" (holding fast to the undivided Dao) while maintaining an attitude of humility and non-contention in worldly affairs.

The key to cultivating the Dao lies in comprehending the fundamental principle of "the One." This "One" represents the origin of the Dao—the primordial, undifferentiated whole. Sages who uphold this fundamental principle become models for all people. Those who don't presume their own correctness demonstrate true wisdom; those who don't boast reveal their true worth; those who don't show off actually accomplish merit; and those who aren't arrogant can endure long. Precisely because they don't contend with others, no one in the world can contend with them.

The text explains four manifestations of humility: not displaying oneself (appearing obscure yet being enlightened), not presuming correctness (being revealed through obscurity), not boasting of achievements (not dwelling on accomplishments), and not being arrogant (possessing surpassing ability without self-praise). These all exemplify non-contention. Practitioners who maintain this non-contentious mindset can preserve their original nature.

The ancient saying "To bend is to be preserved whole" (qu ze quan) is no empty phrase. Laozi cites this as the chapter's central theme, with the ten subsequent examples (such as not displaying oneself, not presuming correctness) all illustrating this principle. The ancients affirmed that "to bend is to be preserved whole" is genuinely effective in bringing about preservation. By quoting this ancient wisdom, Laozi emphasizes that practitioners who understand the principle of yielding to achieve wholeness can attain the complete reality of the Dao and return to humanity's inherent Dao-nature.

At its core, this passage teaches practitioners to hold fast to fundamentals, maintain humility, and avoid contention with others—only through these means can one truly preserve original nature and return to the source of the Dao.

This scripture uses natural phenomena to expound the core Daoist concept of "Xi Yan Zi Ran" (the naturalness of silent words). A raging gale cannot last all morning, nor can a torrential downpour persist throughout an entire day—these are abnormal occurrences between heaven and earth. Even the cosmos cannot sustain such unnatural states, let alone human beings.

Scholar He explains that "Xi" (希) refers to inaudibility, representing the natural state of the Dao (the supreme truth in Daoism). Practitioners should maintain inner tranquility and balanced Qi (vital energy), reaching a formless and soundless realm. Beginning with the character "Xi," the text emphasizes the silent, natural quality of the Dao, which shouldn't be simplistically interpreted as mere opposition between "speaking less" and "speaking more."

Scholar Wu further elaborates that "Xi Yan" (silent words) means "wordlessness"—those who attain the Dao follow nature without reckless speech. Just as abnormal natural phenomena like storms cannot endure (morning winds cease by breakfast time, morning rains stop by evening), they ultimately violate natural constancy. If even heaven and earth cannot prolong such aberrations, how can humans defy natural laws?

Scholar Li uses gales and downpours as metaphors for rash, agitated behavior that cannot last. Scholar Lü points out that this is the Taishang Laojun (Laozi) warning humanity: uncontrolled emotions like joy or anger lead to words and actions as fleeting as storms. The true "Xi" is the invisible Dao (cosmic origin). Those who follow the Dao unite with it; those who follow De (Virtue, the Dao's manifestation) unite with De; those who are lost unite with loss.

Finally, Scholar Wu adds that "devoting oneself to the Dao" means making cultivation one's life's work. People of the Dao, people of De, and ordinary folk each harmonize with their corresponding realms—resembling Zhuangzi's concept of "the equality of all things" in the Qiwulun, emphasizing unity with the great Dao beyond artificial distinctions.

This scripture expounds on the concepts of "the Dao follows what is natural" (道法自然) and "mysterious unity" (玄同). It teaches that those who truly understand the Dao will comply with natural laws without making arbitrary judgments. Before the Dao, all people—whether noble or humble—are equal, for the Dao (道), De (德), and all things are fundamentally one, requiring no superfluous words. Those who appear to stray from the orthodox path also follow their own natural principles, and we should refrain from rash criticism.

Zhuangzi once said: Only through silence can true equality be attained. The moment speech arises, discrimination inevitably follows. This resonates with Laozi's teaching of "sparing speech accords with nature" (希言自然), both advocating transcendence beyond words to reach the state of "mysterious unity"—a realm of oneness that surpasses all duality.

Commentators offer further insights:

• Scholar Li explains that Dao cultivators must harmonize with the Dao and De, blending with all things. Only then can they naturally resonate with the myriad beings.
• Scholar Lü suggests that those who attain the Dao transcend the limitations of form and matter, neither clinging to the "Dao" nor concerned with "De" or "loss," thus freeing themselves from the vexations of gain and loss.

The scripture further observes: The attitude you extend to others will be mirrored in their response. Approach others with the Dao, and they will respond with the Dao; approach them with De, and they will respond with De. Even when dealing with those who err, maintain an attitude of包容 (inclusive tolerance).

Scholar Wu adds that only genuine Dao attainers can achieve this "mysterious unity." Without sufficient self-cultivation, one inevitably falls into discrimination and judgment.

Finally, the text quotes Chapter 24's teaching: "Those who tiptoe cannot stand firm; those who stride cannot walk far," illustrating how forced striving defeats its purpose. This subtly implies that Dao cultivation must follow nature's course rather than relying on forceful effort.

This passage employs several metaphors to discuss how Dao practitioners should follow the natural way of the Dao (the Way).

First, it uses standing and walking as metaphors for cultivation: Some people stand on tiptoe to appear taller or stride excessively to cover more ground. Yet such forced postures cannot be sustained—eventually, they neither stand firmly nor walk far. Just as tiptoeing seems like standing but lacks stability, and overstriding seems like walking but cannot endure, so too is the path of cultivation. If one violates their innate nature, striving for achievements beyond their capacity—like those who crane their necks and rise on tiptoes to grasp undeserved glory, or who lack ability yet vainly seek to surpass others—the result will be the opposite of what they desire. True adepts of the Dao transcend worldly concerns and are entirely unlike those who strain and force their way.

Next, it criticizes four behaviors contrary to the Dao: Those who self-display fail to attain true clarity; those who self-assert fail to shine; those who self-boast lack real merit; and those who are self-satisfied cannot endure. To a Dao practitioner, such behaviors are like leftover food or bodily tumors—repulsive. Those who embody the Dao possess purity of heart, seeing life and death, right and wrong, as one. Looking back at self-display and self-assertion, they regard these acts as scraps and excess, detested by heaven and earth, and thus naturally refrain from them.

Commentators elaborate further: Wu notes that such forced behaviors are like violent storms—unable to last. Lü emphasizes that cultivation must accord with the natural Dao. He explains that tiptoeing and overstriding both violate innate nature. Li points out that these behaviors stem from selfishness, harming universal principle. Lin adds that those who attain the Dao transcend worldly concerns, entirely indifferent to such mundane actions.

This passage elucidates the fundamental nature of the Dao (道) and the principles of self-cultivation as discussed in the Daode Jing.

Regarding self-cultivation, several commentators observe that self-display, self-praise, self-righteousness, and self-aggrandizement all stem from attachment to the ego, which prevents transcendence. Just as one cannot stand on tiptoes for long, nor travel far by taking oversized strides, these behaviors ultimately prove counterproductive. Overabundant food becomes repulsive, and excessive flesh appears unsightly—these examples illustrate how excessive self-attachment produces opposite effects.

Chapter 25 describes the primordial characteristics of the Dao. Commentators explain that the Dao exists as an undifferentiated chaos, present before heaven and earth took form. Its evolution occurs through distinct phases: the Great Nothingness (Taiyi, when Qi [气] remains unmanifested), the Great Beginning (Taichu, when Qi first coalesces), the Great Commencement (Taishi, when forms emerge), and the Great Simplicity (Taisu, when material essence solidifies). This state of chaos is neither pure nor turbid, neither high nor low—eternally existing as the source of all things in heaven and earth.

The Dao's nature manifests through silence (寂兮) and boundlessness (寥兮). It exists independently, unchanging and everlasting, circulating endlessly as the root of all phenomena. Soundless and formless, profoundly empty, it transcends past and present—unique and immutable. Though it moves through all directions without exhaustion, its operation remains invisible yet omnipresent. Its movement resembles an endless circle without beginning or end; all things depend on it for their cyclical birth and dissolution.

In human beings, the Dao manifests as the wondrous nature of awareness (妙觉之性), enduring through all ages without vanishing. This explains the phrase "there was something formless yet complete, existing before heaven and earth." The Dao resembles the state of Wuji (Non-Ultimate) giving rise to Taiji (Supreme Ultimate 太极), existing prior to the differentiation of heaven and earth.

All beings, regardless of size, tend toward the Dao (the cosmic origin and principle). Those aligned with the Dao preserve themselves, while those opposing it suffer harm. The generation and existence of all things depend entirely on the Dao.

Lin Xiyi explains: The Dao is silent and empty, imperceptible to the senses. It exists independently and never changes, operating eternally without exhaustion—like an untiring traveler in perpetual motion. The Dao serves as the source from which all things under heaven are born. "Silent" refers to absolute stillness, "empty" to infinite void, describing the Dao as having neither sound nor form. Transcending all things, nothing can match it, yet it remains constant (this is "never changing"); permeating all existence, it encompasses everything without depletion (this is "never exhausting"). Precisely because it generates and nourishes all things, we call it "the mother of all under heaven."

We cannot truly know its name, so we reluctantly call it "Dao." Even this designation remains insufficient, so we provisionally name it "Great" (boundless vastness); when "Great" proves inadequate, we call it "Receding" (continuously flowing and expanding); when "Receding" still falls short, we name it "Distant" (remote and untouchable); and when "Distant" remains incomplete, we ultimately term it "Returning" (cyclical homecoming). Lin Xiyi clarifies: These names all stem from our inability to define it truly. "Receding" signifies its perpetual expansion beyond pursuit, "Distant" its inaccessibility beyond reach, while "Returning" implies final reversion to the source. Li Xizhai adds: "Great" means immeasurable, "Receding" means boundless, "Distant" means limitless, and "Returning" means all things ultimately circle back. He Xinshan interprets "Returning" as reverting to the primordial state of "no-thing," while Chai Yuangao explains it as the return from phenomena to noumenon.

Thus the Dao is supreme, heaven is supreme, earth is supreme, and the sovereign (the sage who embodies the Dao) is likewise supreme. The cosmos contains these Four Greats, with the sovereign occupying one position. Wu Cheng explains: Here "sovereign" refers to rulers who have realized the Dao. From ancient times to present, nothing compares to the Dao's greatness. The reason we group Dao, heaven, earth, and sages as the "Four Greats" is that heaven becomes heaven through the Dao, earth becomes earth through the Dao, and sages become sages through the Dao. Their greatness stems solely from possessing the Dao. Li Xizhai further observes: People recognize the Four Greats in the cosmos, yet fail to realize that within each person resides a Dao-nature surpassing all four in magnificence.

This passage discusses the relationship between Daoist practitioners and the natural cosmos. Master Lü (referring to Lü Dongbin) states that accomplished adepts (zhiren) comprehend the Dao through self-cultivation. The Dao itself is mysterious and formless, with Heaven corresponding to the upper Dantian (Celestial Valley Divine Palace) in the human body, Earth corresponding to the lower Dantian (Yellow Court True Soil), while the "sovereign" represents one's true nature and primordial spirit (Yuanshen). The Yuanshen resides in the heart—though occupying mere inches of space, it connects Heaven and Earth and governs all things, demonstrating its profound vastness.

The text then interprets the cultivation sequence from the Daode Jing: "Humans emulate Earth, Earth emulates Heaven, Heaven emulates the Dao, the Dao emulates nature (Ziran)." Practitioners must first learn from Earth's qualities—being deep, silent, and selflessly supportive. Earth in turn follows Heaven's attributes—being strong, upright, and unchanging. Heaven then models itself after the Dao—supreme, impartial, and generative. Ultimately, the Dao follows nature (Ziran), acting through non-action (Wuwei) in accordance with all things' inherent tendencies. Master Wu (likely Wu Yun) adds that humans achieve greatness by uniting with Earth through Dao-realization, Earth becomes great by uniting with Heaven, Heaven attains greatness through union with the Dao, while the Dao itself is nature—there exists no "nature" separate from the Dao. Master Lin praises this interpretation, noting nature (Ziran) represents the Dao's highest state. Master He emphasizes the term "human" here specifically denotes accomplished practitioners ("sovereigns").

Chapter 26 explains the principle: "Heaviness is the root of lightness, stillness governs agitation." Master Wu clarifies that weight anchors what's light, just as stillness masters movement—like a nobleman traveling in a light carriage yet never abandoning the supply cart carrying essentials. Master Lü elaborates: heaviness symbolizes the virtue (De) of bearing all things, while stillness represents the wisdom controlling restlessness. Practitioners must guard their foundation like treasured provisions, using stillness to direct motion, never acting rashly.

(Note: Celestial Valley Divine Palace and Yellow Court True Soil are Neidan terms for upper/lower Dantian; "sovereign" often metaphorically indicates the heart-mind in alchemical texts; "inches of space" refers to the heart field.)

This passage expounds the Daoist wisdom of "valuing stillness over agitation," using metaphors of governance and journeying to illustrate this principle.

Those who are frivolous easily become dominated by external things, so to avoid frivolity one must not lose steadiness. The tranquil can master external matters, while the agitated become driven by them. To control agitation, one must preserve stillness. For stillness restrains frivolity, and steadiness overcomes agitation. Thus a ruler governing a state should take steadiness and stillness as fundamental, enabling the people to live in peace without turmoil.

Just as long-distance travelers dare not abandon their supply wagons—the source of food and clothing—reckless discarding would leave them stranded mid-journey. Cultivating oneself and practicing the Dao (the Way) follows the same principle: how could one forget steadiness and stillness even momentarily? Those who attain the Dao conduct themselves likewise, valuing steadiness and stillness while guarding against frivolity and agitation. Steadiness resembles the head, frivolity the limbs; stillness is the spirit (Shen), agitation the emotions. Maintaining the virtue (De) of steadiness and stillness while eliminating frivolous and agitated emotions allows one to dwell in sage-like comfort—even when walking smooth roads, one dares not act rashly.

Lin Xiyi (Master Lin) explains: The root principle is that frivolity must be grounded in steadiness, and agitation governed by stillness. Even amidst dazzling splendor, one remains transcendent. Wu Cheng (Master Wu) observes: Though surrounded by glory and wealth, the mind remains unentangled—this demonstrates that action should be rooted in stillness. Master Lin further notes: The sage's inner vision already perceives the utmost beauty of existence, thus transcending distinctions between weightiness and lightness, agitation and stillness—like dwelling in vast, comfortable quarters.

Why would a ruler commanding ten thousand chariots treat the realm frivolously? Frivolity loses ministers; agitation forfeits sovereignty. Master Wu points out: Statecraft employs weight to control lightness; military strategy uses stillness to direct movement—just like self-cultivation, both should take steadiness as foundation and stillness as guide. Master Lin concludes: A ruler of ten thousand chariots who doesn't know his own substance cannot achieve transcendence and will inevitably succumb to frivolity and agitation.

He who loses his ministers cannot command the allegiance of the world; he who loses his sovereign speaks of having lost his inner compass. Those who belittle themselves while valuing the world excessively actually overestimate worldly affairs and underestimate their own being. Only those who do not neglect their own body truly understand the Dao (the Way); those who comprehend the Dao can perceive the principles of nature.

Master Lü (Lü Dongbin) explains: Those who attain the Dao find truth within themselves—here the heart serves as sovereign, and Qi (vital energy) as minister. A frivolous heart becomes agitated and depletes primordial energy; impatience consumes Jing (essence) and disturbs Shen (spirit). Inwardly, one cultivates body and mind; outwardly, one masters all things. Maintaining a serene and steadfast nature embodies heavenly principle. Thus recklessness loses the ministers (primordial energy), while rashness loses the sovereign (original mind).

The highest skill leaves no wheel ruts; the finest speech bears no flaws to censure; the wisest calculation needs no counting rods; the most secure closing requires no bolt yet cannot be opened; the tightest binding uses no cords yet cannot be untied. Master Wu clarifies: "Skill" refers to mastery in action. Ruts are wheel tracks, footprints are steps; "flaws" are blemishes in jade, "censuring" is reproach; "counting rods" were ancient bamboo tallying tools; "bolts" are door fasteners—horizontal ones called bars, vertical ones called staples; "cords" mean ropes—single lengths called lines, binding ones called ties.

Ordinary people inevitably leave traces: footprints when walking, loopholes in speech, tools for counting, bolts for doors, ropes for binding. But to Dao attainees, these are not true mastery. The ultimate state is: The skilled walker walks by not walking, thus leaving no tracks; the skilled speaker speaks by not speaking, thus inviting no blame; the skilled calculator calculates by not calculating, thus needing no tools; the skilled closer closes by not closing, thus using no bolt yet remaining shut; the skilled binder binds by not binding, thus using no cord yet staying fastened. These five examples introduce the sage’s profound art of salvation.

Master Lü further expounds: Spirit has no fixed form; the Dao has no concrete shape. One arrives without walking, flies swiftly without hastening. Dao attainees observe celestial patterns, follow natural laws—appearing inactive yet achieving all. Their De (Virtue) nourishes all things like spring rain and breezes—how could traces remain? Moreover, the unskilled in speech often talk excessively.

This passage elucidates the conduct and wisdom of those who have attained the Dao (the Way).

The perfected person (zhiren) who has truly attained the Dao renews their virtue (De) daily. Their speech naturally accords with the heavenly Dao, leaving no trace of fault—like flawless jade without blemish, or sublime discourse that invites no criticism. The Dao cannot be measured by concrete standards; what can be calculated with counting rods pales before the profound mystery of natural enlightenment.

Those skilled in calculation need no counting rods. They hold fast to the "One" (the fundamental principle of Dao), following the natural development of all things, allowing each to fulfill its authentic function. Those adept at closing need no physical barriers—even when heaven and earth transform or spirits respond, no entrance can be found, for their spirit (Shen) remains inwardly guarded against external disturbances. Those proficient in binding require no ropes yet create unbreakable bonds, like water freezing naturally into solid ice. The Dao-attained person maintains inner emptiness and stillness, united with the Dao—not even heaven and earth can disrupt them.

Scholar Li adds: With cautious speech and action, no traces remain—how can the calculations of the heart be measured by rods? How can the closures of the mind be opened? How can the coalescence of spirit be undone?

Scholar Lin observes: These are all metaphors conveying the essential principle—by following the natural Dao without forced striving, one leaves no artificial traces.

Thus the sage excels at saving both people and things, abandoning neither. Scholar Wu explains: The sage's salvation is achieved through "not saving," just as the earlier metaphor shows that "non-action" (wuwei) constitutes true skill. Deliberately saving some inevitably means neglecting others; whereas the sage, appearing to save no one in particular, in fact abandons none—this is the highest wisdom (ximing, "inherited illumination").

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concepts of "governing through wuwei (non-action)" and "universal salvation." The Dao (the cosmic origin) treats all beings equally, never abandoning any person or thing. As Master He explains, the Dao permeates the entire world—every person can receive enlightenment through cultivation, and all things grow naturally according to their inherent patterns, though this process remains formless, mysterious, and beyond ordinary perception.

Master Guan Yinzi (a Daoist figure) asserts that within the grand transformation of the cosmos, all beings share an interconnected nature. Those who comprehend this truth transcend the distinction between self and others, allowing all things to fulfill their natural roles. This is the sage's state of wuwei (non-action), known as "inheriting the light" (xí míng). Every person possesses this innate spiritual clarity, though most fail to fully awaken to it. The sage gently guides people back to their original luminous nature, helping them attain the eternal, indestructible state.

Master Lü employs the metaphor of a lamp: those who attain the Dao turn their awareness inward, their minds becoming crystal clear, their wisdom like an unceasingly transmitted flame. Master Dong adds that rescuing people from physical danger merely aids their form—true virtue lies in awakening those lost in delusion. Just as passing a lamp illuminates others without diminishing its own light, this wisdom is inexhaustible.

The text then explores the dialectical relationship between "virtuous" and "non-virtuous" people. Master Wu observes that virtuous individuals serve as models for others, while non-virtuous people become catalysts for the virtuous to cultivate their own practice. Master He notes that when the non-virtuous learn from the virtuous, and the virtuous teach the non-virtuous to embody the Dao, this interaction perpetuates the transmission of Daoist teachings. Master Lin suggests that without non-virtuous counterparts, the value of virtuous individuals would remain unrecognized. Master Lü concludes that education is a mutually enriching process where teacher and student nourish each other in shared growth.

The Ni commentary explains: Virtuous people are indeed teachers for the unvirtuous, yet the unvirtuous also serve as valuable mirrors for the virtuous. Confucius once said that among three travelers, there must be one worth learning from—select their merits to emulate and take their faults as warnings for self-correction. Even Confucius acknowledged that the unvirtuous can serve as teachers, let alone those of true wisdom and virtue. Here, "mirror" (资) means an aid—by observing others' faults, we use them as reflections to correct our own mistakes, thereby progressing toward virtue. This is the true meaning of "mirror."

If one neither respects teachers nor values these mirrors, even the most intelligent will fall into great confusion—this is the profound insight of Daoist teaching. The Lü commentary elaborates: Though people need teachers to guide them, upon truly awakening to the ultimate truth, one reaches a state where distinctions between self and other dissolve. There is no deliberate reverence for teachers nor attachment to mirrors. Like Liezi (a Daoist sage) who took Lao Shang (Laozi) as his teacher and befriended Bo Gao, yet later could not say who exactly was his teacher or friend—because the boundaries between inner and outer had completely vanished. Only in this state can one perceive their true nature, awaken to the Dao, and penetrate its deepest truths. At this stage, the wisest lose their bearings, the most cunning strategies find no application, and the most eloquent words fail to explain—this is genuine mystery. Thus, "though intelligent, one is greatly confused" captures the essence of the Dao.

The Li commentary adds: Only by utterly forgetting the distinction between teacher and student, abandoning cleverness and cunning, and maintaining a state of apparent foolishness at all times, does one reach the highest realm.

Chapter 20 states: Knowing the strength of the masculine yet abiding in the receptivity of the feminine, one becomes the valley of the world. As the valley, eternal De (Virtue) never fades, returning to the purity of an infant.

The Lü commentary explains: "Masculine" represents vigor and initiative, while "feminine" signifies softness and stillness. Though sages know their own nobility and glory, forceful assertion invites disaster—it is better to embrace humility and gentleness. Like water flowing downward, the world's De naturally gathers. To be the valley is to spread like streams everywhere, containing all without exception, while preserving the constancy of De in pristine purity—like a toothless infant, this is perfect Virtue.

From an alchemical perspective: The "masculine" is the yang within yin, corresponding to the body's Jing (essence); the "feminine" is the yin within yang, corresponding to Shen (spirit). Knowing masculine strength means nurturing essence; abiding in feminine receptivity means preserving spirit. When the spirit is clear, all things manifest naturally; when the mind is empty, harmony returns effortlessly. Like water flowing into a valley that purifies all turbidity, one ultimately returns to an infant's state of purity.

The Wu commentary succinctly notes: "Masculine" means strength, "feminine" means softness, and "infant" signifies innocent purity. The Lin commentary emphasizes that this practice preserves one's original De—like a valley eternally low yet nourishing all things, or an infant seemingly weak yet brimming with boundless vitality.

This passage discusses the Daoist wisdom of "knowing the masculine but preserving the feminine." Laozi uses "masculine" to symbolize forceful advancement, while "feminine" represents gentle receptivity. Truly wise individuals, though understanding the way of strength, consciously choose gentle approaches to life, much like an infant's natural simplicity. This isn't foolish weakness but a deliberate choice made through profound understanding, making it particularly valuable.

Regarding "knowing the white but preserving the black," white symbolizes apparent wisdom while black represents hidden profundity. The sage's mind is crystal clear yet restrained in expression, appearing foolish while being profoundly wise. This cultivation of inner clarity with outward obscurity becomes a model for the world. It parallels Neidan (internal alchemy) practice where one understands the generative and controlling relationships between metal (lungs) and water (kidneys) according to the Five Phases, harmonizing Yin-Yang to establish the foundation of nature and life. True De (Virtue) operates with Wuwei (non-action) yet with perfect precision, ultimately merging with the infinite Dao.

The renowned commentator Heshang Gong explains: though internally bright as daylight, one should maintain external reserve like night's darkness. This cultivated attitude of inner illumination with outward reserve embodies the eternal De worth emulating. The Song dynasty Daoist Lin Xiyi adds that "without error" means flawless execution, while "infinite" transcends material limitations. The Daoist adept He Xinshan further clarifies: only by not excessively displaying brilliance can one endure; he prefers profound mystery as his virtue, maintaining inner luminosity while outwardly appearing obscure.

The Wu commentary explains that "white" represents brightness while "black" signifies darkness. "Wuji" (the Limitless) refers to a boundless, infinite state. The Li commentary suggests that understanding brightness yet abiding in darkness demonstrates the virtue of not showing off; knowing glory yet willingly dwelling in humility is like being the valley of the world - only thus can eternal De (Virtue) become complete, ultimately returning to the original simplicity.

The Lü commentary elaborates that honor and disgrace, gain and loss are all unpredictable contingencies. Though sages may dwell in high positions of honor, they remain content in lowliness, embracing all impurities like an empty valley. This magnanimous tolerance makes inner De abundant, preserving innate purity to ultimately return to simplicity. The Li commentary adds that knowing glory yet abiding in disgrace means not considering oneself noble; maintaining gentleness and humility means not displaying one's cleverness.

The He commentary cites the saying "the purest white appears sullied, the fullest De seems insufficient," expressing willingness to bear disgrace and misfortune because diminishment can bring increase. The metaphors of "infant," "Wuji," and "uncarved wood" all point to ways of returning to original authenticity. The Lin commentary explains "uncarved wood" as the primordial state of heaven and earth, while the Wu commentary further clarifies that "glory" represents nobility, "disgrace" signifies lowliness, and "uncarved wood" is the unworked timber - this chapter's essence lies in returning to the primordial Dao through maintaining eternal De.

When the original simplicity disperses, it forms concrete objects. Sages employ this principle to govern all things, so perfect systems never sever natural essence. The Lin commentary explains that as original simplicity scatters, it generates concrete objects - this resembles the metaphysical Dao transforming into physical vessels. Sages use Dao's principles to govern concrete affairs; though heaven and earth have separate functions, sages can unite the Three Powers (heaven, earth and humanity) to administer all things. As Zhuangzi said, governing heaven and earth is also part of creation's duties - perfect governance never damages natural wholeness.

This passage primarily expounds on the concept of "the Great Dao practices Wuwei (non-action)." The so-called "great governance" refers to using the Dao to govern all things, achieving harmonious unity between the Dao and concrete phenomena. This embodies the principle of governing through non-action and following natural spontaneity.

He's commentary explains: "Pu" (the Uncarved Block) represents the original state of the Dao's non-action, while "qi" (vessel) refers to concrete, tangible things. The sage understands that the original state cannot remain eternally unchanged, yet skillfully employs it to govern heaven and earth and nurture all beings. Though this governing method is grand, it never fractures the wholeness of things—this is precisely the power of the Great Dao. Wu further elaborates that ordinary governance requires dividing the whole, but "great governance" achieves rulership without coercion, just as the greatest dispersion is non-dispersion, and the greatest application is non-deliberate application.

Chapter 29 discusses principles for governing the world. The scripture thrice warns humanity: those who seek to seize the world by force are doomed to fail. The world is a sacred existence that cannot be forcibly controlled—those who grasp will fail, those who cling will lose.

He points out this serves as admonition for those blinded by power who overreach themselves in usurpation attempts. Gaining the world requires "Wuwei," without the slightest trace of forced intention. The world is a "sacred vessel" (divine mandate), not something human effort can covet. Examples like King Wen of Zhou possessing two-thirds of the realm yet remaining subordinate to Shang, or sage-kings Yao, Shun and Yu obtaining the world without clinging to power, all demonstrate this absence of forced seeking. The sage's non-action prevents failure, non-clinging prevents loss. When the world is governed by divine spirits, how could cunning or force prevail?

Master Lü further clarifies: when sages obtain the world, it's not through deliberate seizure; when governing, it's not through deliberate action. Precisely because they harbor no forced intentions, they align with heavenly principles and follow nature's spontaneity. All things submit as a natural consequence. Forced pursuit violates celestial order and abandons the Dao of spontaneity. The "sacred vessel" signifies supreme authority—the symbolic representation of heaven-earth and divine spirits governing existence—which truly cannot be obtained through force.

This passage elucidates the principle of Wuwei (non-action). If one governs the world with selfish intentions, they become bound by external things and trapped in worries, not only losing the fundamental Dao but also their authentic self—how could they possibly have energy left to govern the world?

The human heart originally has the capacity to encompass the mysteries of all things, the key being to follow nature's flow. Once deliberate action is taken, one cannot maintain Wuwei; using human effort to disrupt nature and willful action to defy heaven's mandate only drives one further from the Dao. The human form is inherently a sacred vessel that emulates heaven and earth and harmonizes with Yin-Yang. When the Yellow Emperor gazed southward and lost his Mysterious Pearl (symbolizing the true essence of Dao), and when Hundun (representing primordial naturalness) had its seven orifices carved out and died—these illustrate how deliberate action destroys natural harmony.

Striving for success leads instead to failure; clinging to gain results in loss. Only by not striving can one avoid failure, and only by not clinging can one avoid loss—this is the state closest to the Dao.

Scholar Li remarks: Wuwei brings no troubles, while deliberate action begets complications. What is clung to will be lost; what is forced will fail—this serves as a warning against willful action. Scholar Lin observes: The world is a sacred vessel—how could human effort forcibly claim it? When virtue is lofty, the world naturally follows. Those who harbor ambitions to seize the world, forcefully doing good to seek reward, will never attain it. Worldly affairs cannot be grasped through willfulness—deliberate action inevitably fails, and clinging inevitably loses, for these are burdens created by the calculating mind.

All things in the world have leaders and followers, warmth and cold, strength and weakness, creation and destruction. Therefore, the sage eliminates extremes, extravagance, and excess.

Scholar He explains: Where something is diminished here, it will be replenished elsewhere; where there is gain here, there will be loss there. The cycles of decrease and increase, fullness and emptiness revolve endlessly, like the mantis stalking the cicada unaware of the oriole behind. Thus, when things advance, followers already exist; when warmth appears, cold is already present; at the peak of strength, weakness has already emerged; in moments of achievement, destruction is already brewing. Like shadows following people, all things mutually constrain one another. How much more so with the vastness of the world—how could willful action and clinging possibly succeed? "Extremes" refer to excess—the Dao appears soft and weak outwardly but is fundamentally empty, thus extremes must be eliminated. "Extravagance" denotes superficial ornamentation—the Dao values essential simplicity and regards external things as coarse; extravagance contradicts humility, thus it must be discarded.

This passage elucidates the Daoist core philosophy regarding governing the world and self-cultivation. Extravagant indulgence and arrogant pride (tai) are behaviors fundamentally opposed to the Daoist principles of "depth" as foundation and "simplicity" as standard. The true Dao (the Way) does not consider possessing the world as its ultimate goal, hence one must guard against these three extreme mental states.

Laozi (Master Li) teaches that strength and weakness, success and failure are interdependent and mutually transformative, like shadows following physical forms. The moment achievement is attained, the seeds of failure are already sown. Therefore, the sage eliminates excessive desire, extravagance, and arrogance—this serves as profound admonition for future generations.

Su Shi (Master Su) further explains that all phenomena in the world exist in mutual opposition yet interdependence: advancing and following, warmth and coldness, strengthening and weakening, building and destroying—these are natural patterns that cannot be avoided.

Wu Cheng (Master Wu), expanding on the earlier concept that "clinging leads to loss," observes that those who rule the world cannot possess it forever. Gain and loss, existence and annihilation are like the eight complementary opposites of inhalation and exhalation (xuchui), strength and frailty (qianglei), success and collapse (zaihui). The sage understands this inevitable pattern and thus employs special methods to respond. When things reach their peak of prosperity, decline inevitably follows. Only by preventing excessive strength can one avoid decline. Extravagance, indulgence, and pride—these three mental states represent extreme manifestations of excess. By avoiding such extremes, one can preserve the world.