《道德真經集義(一)》Vol. 8

This passage elucidates the meaning of "one whose De (Virtue) is abundant may be compared to an infant" from Chapter 55 of the Daode Jing. Various commentaries agree that a person who has cultivated profound De resembles an infant in purity and naturalness.

"Containing De" refers to inner virtue that is restrained rather than outwardly displayed, while "abundant" signifies its ultimate attainment. When one's cultivation of De reaches its highest state, they become as pure as a newborn infant. The noble person should aspire to this profound virtue, maintaining abundant Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), inner peace, and never losing the innocent nature of an infant.

The text cites multiple classical references: Laozi frequently uses infants as metaphors for De, indicating essential purity; Mencius similarly states "the great man does not lose his childlike heart"; sages embrace De with pure hearts practicing Wuwei (non-action), their concentrated Shen (spirit) resembling infants. The term "infant" here not only denotes a newborn's ruddy complexion but also alludes to the Daoist neidan (internal alchemy) concept of the "Mud Pellet Celestial Emperor" (the divine being residing in the upper Dantian).

The latter section explains why venomous creatures don't sting, fierce beasts don't attack, and birds of prey don't strike such infants. Commentaries offer several interpretations: those with profound cultivation harmonize with all beings, making them invulnerable; just as infants' harmless purity prevents others from harming them; having no intention to oppose creatures naturally brings protection; accomplished adepts possess complete Shen and perfected De, rendering external threats powerless.

These explanations collectively illustrate that those attaining the highest De cultivation coexist with nature as harmoniously as infants, unharmed by external forces. This state emerges naturally at the pinnacle of moral cultivation, not through deliberate effort.

This scripture uses the state of an infant (the "red child") as a metaphor for the pure and natural realm that Dao practitioners should maintain. Though an infant's bones are soft, it can clench its fists tightly; though unaware of sexual matters, it exhibits physiological responses—this is because its essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) are abundant. It cries all day without becoming hoarse, which manifests its harmonious heart-mind energy. Practitioners should likewise preserve the focused purity of an infant's mental state, undisturbed by external influences.

Commentators further explain: Master Lin notes that though an infant's sinews and bones are tender, its grip is remarkably strong. These physiological reactions don't stem from desire but from flourishing essence-energy. The term "vigor" here refers to the infant's primordial life force. Crying incessantly without harming the throat occurs because the heart harbors neither joy nor anger, allowing natural Qi harmony—a state practitioners should emulate by maintaining unwavering mental stillness.

Master He adds that newborns' bones remain unstrained by labor, their bodies supple yet capable of firm grasping, all stemming from abundant essence-energy. Those with Virtue (De) conserve their essence, energy, and spirit (Jing-Qi-Shen); through cultivation, they can transform their physical form. An infant's unceasing cry without hoarseness comes from intact harmonious Qi. The virtuous remain unelated by honor and unangered by insult, existing in complete accord with nature.

Master Li observes that though infants don't understand gender differences, their intact essence-energy produces physiological responses. Despite bodily reactions, the absence of desire in their hearts preserves supreme essence. Their unchanged crying tone results from balanced harmonious Qi. Cultivators who maintain this innocent state embody profound Virtue.

The passage concludes with the principle of "knowing harmony": Understanding harmony's Dao leads to enduring constancy; comprehending this constancy means illuminating the great Dao. Forced attempts to enhance life paradoxically invite misfortune (here "auspicious" refers to ominous signs). Using willpower to forcibly control Qi constitutes violent practice contrary to nature's Dao. Cultivation should mirror an infant's natural harmony—free from artificial striving.

He Yan comments: The Dao operates ceaselessly day and night, yet harmonizes with all things as gently as spring—how sublime is this constant state! What we call "harmony" means maintaining a mind free from distinctions between right and wrong, beauty and ugliness (the "spiritual mansion" refers to the heart-mind). Such clarity is truly eternal.

Human life has its limits—excessive striving for augmentation ultimately harms oneself. Master Hui said "do not artificially prolong life," while Zhuangzi emphasized that one should not allow likes and dislikes to damage the inner self, but rather follow natural laws without forcing enhancement. Overzealous pursuit becomes harmful, hence the saying "those who don't deliberately nurture life surpass those who overvalue it." Like leftover food or superfluous actions, such excess invites misfortune.

The will governs qi (vital energy), and when qi-blood fills the body abundantly. But if mental force aggressively drives this qi-blood, it causes chaotic counterflow, making the heart-mind fierce and narrow. Lü Huiqing explains: The essence of "harmony" lies in cultivating oneself through upright Dao, free from impatient striving or deviant tendencies, and certainly not self-destructive abnormalities. Understanding "harmony's" truth preserves the original heart-mind—serene and focused as heaven-earth's constant motion. Comprehending the eternal Dao reveals the source, transcending past and present with wisdom luminous as sun and moon. Thus "knowing harmony means constancy; understanding constancy means wisdom."

But those pursuing supernatural abilities—how can they avoid life's burdens? Forcing against heavenly principle inevitably brings calamity—this is delusion's consequence. When "qi" is forcibly driven by thoughts, reckless movement generates violent energy, sinking one into depravity. Those obsessively seeking longevity with endless delusions, ignorant of eternal Dao, naturally meet disaster. The proper art of nurturing life should concentrate qi into softness, yet now mental force drives it into fierce brutality—is this the true path? Only Dao-attained individuals consistently follow nature without forced striving.

Things reaching peak prosperity must decline—this contradicts Dao's law. What doesn't accord with Dao quickly perishes. Lin Xiyi explains: "Premature cessation" means swift stopping without action. "Cessation" implies termination. Lü Huiqing adds: Extreme flourishing leads to decay; forceful thoughts invite misfortune. Dao's virtue manifests through gentle concealment—taking strength as heart contradicts Dao, so non-conforming things perish early.

Humans are nature's most spiritual beings: birth brings youth, youth brings prime, prime brings aging, aging brings death. All because ignorance of Dao prevents transcending natural laws. If one could penetrate heaven-earth's...

Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) do not engage in empty talk, while those who constantly speak of it actually lack genuine understanding. One should restrain their sharp edges like stopping the ears and closing the mouth, smooth out their rough corners, resolve conflicts, maintain inner radiance without outward display, and harmonize with worldly affairs—this is the state of "mysterious unity" (complete integration with the Dao).

Lin's explanation: The Dao cannot be fully expressed through words; true knowledge must be deeply concealed within, as if closing the sensory channels. One must temper their sharpness like polishing jade to remove its edges, untangle inner disturbances to bring order, preserve the light of wisdom without deliberate display, conform to worldly ways without losing one's true nature—this is the most profound state of "unity with the Dao."

He further elaborates: Understanding principles is easy, but maintaining silence is difficult. Those who truly attain the Dao recognize its unfathomable depth and thus remain silent, just as the heavenly Dao operates without words. Those who pretend to understand instead chatter endlessly. "Stopping the openings" means not rejoicing easily over external things; "closing the gates" means not indulging desires freely; "blunting the sharpness" means smoothing out one's aggressive tendencies; "untying the knots" means freeing oneself from the entanglement of mistaken views; "harmonizing the light" means great wisdom appearing as simplicity; "mixing with the dust" means moving through the world while transcending it. Achieving these six points allows one to return to their original nature and commune with the heavenly Dao.

Lü cites Zhuangzi: Heaven and earth possess great beauty yet speak no words; the four seasons follow clear laws yet hold no discussions. The Dao resides in silence, and the most precious truths are often the simplest. Those who truly understand may speak endlessly yet seem to say nothing, while those who don't understand may talk at length yet remain ignorant. Those who attain the Dao recognize its ultimate simplicity and thus refrain from careless speech.

The true Dao cultivator values inner realization over clever debate, prioritizing practical action above empty theorizing. Those who rely on eloquence to discuss the Dao often lose its essence while becoming intoxicated with words. Just as when Nie Que (the legendary hermit) consulted Wang Ni (a Daoist master) and received "I don't know" answers to four consecutive questions, these seemingly ignorant responses precisely embodied genuine wisdom. Thus, those who truly understand the Dao don't engage in grandiose speech, while those who love talking often haven't attained real realization.

Those who attain the Dao can achieve this: closing the gates of sensory perception (blocking the openings), withdrawing outward-gazing eyes to turn inward; maintaining silent stillness to nurture spirit, keeping their primordial Shen (spirit) as pure and tranquil as an unborn fetus. Thus calamities cannot penetrate them, and pathogenic Qi cannot invade. They understand the value of sheathing one's brilliance, taking profundity as fundamental—their forceful Qi naturally settles; they can resolve complications, taking simplicity as principle—complexities naturally dissolve. They can both conceal their radiance without display and blend with the mundane world without contention. In this way they return to the most mysterious state (utmost obscurity) and reach the purest unity (utmost oneness). This state of utmost obscurity is called "mystery" (Xuan), while utmost oneness is called "sameness" (Tong)—here one transcends distinctions between "acceptable" and "unacceptable."

Commentator Li remarks: Rather than speaking much to seek advantage, better to remain silent and avoid harm. Therefore, those who attain the Dao transcend worldly concerns—they cannot be moved by intimacy nor affected by distance; neither tempted by profit nor threatened by harm; neither swayed by honor nor changed by humiliation. Precisely for this reason, the Dao is revered throughout the world.

Commentator Lin adds: Those who possess this state of mysterious unity have already transcended worldly distinctions of closeness/distance, advantage/harm, and nobility/humility—this is why the Dao is treasured by all under heaven. Commentator Lü further explains: Cultivators who reach this subtle state are no longer bound by Yin-Yang patterns, having surpassed limitations of form and quantity. Above, they roam with the Creator; below, they befriend those who transcend life and death, beyond beginning or end. They don't reject external things yet aren't influenced by closeness, don't despise externals yet aren't affected by distance; they don't seek usefulness so advantage cannot corrupt them, don't cling to externals so harm cannot reach them. High rank and generous stipends cannot shake their resolve, thus they don't value glory; suffering disgrace cannot alter their integrity, thus they don't consider humiliation base. This state preserves both life and cultivates form—it's the supreme manifestation of the Dao, unattainable by all things in creation.

Commentator Wu concludes: When cultivators reach mysterious unity, distinctions of closeness/distance, advantage/harm, and nobility/humility become ineffective. Even with parental-level affection, they remain serenely detached, unmoved by intimacy; appearing distant as strangers yet never deliberately keeping apart, unaffected by alienation.

Those who chase fame, status, and material wealth cannot truly be helped by others, for these external pursuits bring no real benefit. Those who transcend life and death, fortune and misfortune cannot be harmed by others, as external calamities no longer affect them. Even with the authority of a monarch, if one remains humble and approachable, others will not perceive them as aloof; though appearing like an ordinary person, none dare look down upon them, for their inner cultivation commands natural reverence. These six states of being (referring to the transcendence of worldly values like gain, loss, nobility, and baseness) are difficult for ordinary people to attain—thus, those who achieve them become the most revered under heaven.

Chapter 57 states: Govern the state with uprightness (zheng), wage war with surprise tactics (qi), and attain the world through non-action (wuwei). Why is this so? Lü Huiqing explains: Uprightness is the constant norm of the Dao, surprise tactics are its adaptive variation, while non-action is the true essence of the Dao. Governing the people through uprightness is the finest method of rule; employing surprise tactics in warfare addresses unforeseen crises. When ancient sages established their foundations, their original intent was never to wage war—they resorted to military campaigns only when compelled by necessity. Thus, governance is the norm (zheng), while warfare is the exception (qi). The world is a sacred entity that cannot be forcibly controlled—those who grasp at it will fail, those who cling to it will lose it. To attain the world requires non-action; deliberate striving only leads to failure. Only those who embody the Dao, with minds serene and attuned to nature, though not actively seeking the world, will find it naturally drawn to them. Just as when a person’s qi and blood flow smoothly in a state of inner peace, external afflictions cannot invade, and their spirit remains tranquil and radiant—this mirrors how upright governance brings peace to the borders. But if the "six thieves" (desires arising from the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) remain unsubdued and the "seven emotions" (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, and desire) unpurified, inner turmoil persists. When deluded thoughts arise, they ignite like a self-consuming fire—just as a state must resort to military force when compelled, one must employ forceful methods to eliminate these inner "enemies." Wu Cheng adds: Uprightness refers to correcting deviations through laws and institutions—this is the approach of Legalists like Guan Zhong and Shang Yang.

Governing a state should follow the correct Dao. A ruler must cultivate their own virtue (De) and regulate their household as the foundation, rather than relying on harsh laws and prohibitions to forcibly control the people. What is called "cunning" refers to unorthodox and deceitful tactics, such as those employed by military strategists like Sun Wu and Wu Qi in warfare. However, a ruler's use of military force should stem from the intent to rescue the people and punish wrongdoing, not from a glorification of deception. Thus, cunning tactics are only suitable for the battlefield and cannot be used to govern a state, while the correct Dao is fitting for governance but cannot be used to conquer the world.

In the era of the Three Sovereigns of antiquity, governance was carried out through wuwei (non-action, acting in accordance with nature), just as Heaven does not speak yet ensures the orderly progression of the seasons and the flourishing of all things. Without demanding submission, the world naturally aligned with their rule. Thus, only a ruler who does not act deliberately can truly attain the world. The commentator Lin adds: Governing with the correct Dao requires specific policies, and waging war with cunning requires deception—both of these are deliberate actions. Only governance through wuwei can win the hearts of the people, which is the principle behind "attaining the world through non-interference."

When a state imposes excessive prohibitions, the people grow poorer; when weapons proliferate among the populace, the state descends into chaos; when people obsess over clever but frivolous techniques, deviant practices flourish; and when laws become overly intricate, banditry increases. The commentator Lü explains: The wealth, poverty, longevity, or premature death of the people should follow their natural course. If the net of prohibitions is too tightly woven, the people are constrained at every turn and unable to labor freely, inevitably leading to increasing poverty. Therefore, the sage treats all matters with "non-interference" as the fundamental principle. Even when handling affairs, they maintain inner tranquility, remaining unperturbed amid clamor and untroubled when faced with events—this is the true state of peace.

The heart-mind is like the ruler, while the primordial qi (vital energy) is like the people. Too many taboos disturb the heart-mind, causing the qi to weaken—hence the saying, "When the world is full of prohibitions, the people grow poorer." The so-called "sharp tools" are akin to authority, which should be the ruler’s exclusive instrument. If everyone is allowed to abuse power, it is like handing the hilt of a sword to others, inevitably leading to chaos in the state. For the individual, if the mind cannot maintain pure unity (focused on holding to the One) but is instead pulled by external things, the same principle applies.

When humans are controlled by the seven emotions and six desires, how can their spirit (Shen) not become dull and turbid? Thus it is said: when the common people possess too many "sharp tools" (referring to manipulative tactics), the state will descend into greater chaos. Though ingenious crafts may be clever, if rulers cannot maintain stillness and practice non-action (Wuwei), but instead pursue extravagance and pleasure, the people will follow suit—carving ornate but impractical garments, curios, gold and jade treasures, and other bizarre objects—using these to flatter the powerful and satisfy selfish desires.

For individuals, if one cannot transcend the temptations of external things and becomes obsessed with exotic clothing and rare playthings, this trend will grow increasingly prevalent. Humanity's originally pure and simple nature will gradually erode, drifting ever further from the great Dao. Therefore, the more skillful people become, the more bizarre and excessive things proliferate.

Laws were originally meant to standardize and civilize, but if they become too harsh, enforcers will manipulate legal technicalities, and cunning officials will seize opportunities to commit evil. The people, unable to bear the burden, will turn to petty theft at best and political subversion at worst. In personal cultivation, excessive fixation on trivial rules and attachment to heterodox methods will allow external disturbances to agitate the mind. All manner of things that damage true nature (Xing) and corrupt the original heart (Benxin) will emerge endlessly. Thus, the more numerous the laws, the more thieves and rebels arise.

Master He explains: the more prohibitions a state imposes, the poorer its people become. It's like setting up tolls and taxes at every mountain pass, lake, and marketplace—excessive levies make life unbearable. As Yanzi admonished Duke Jing of Qi: when prohibitions are so numerous that the people can hardly move without violating them, how can they survive? Only by reducing restrictions can the people live in peace. The scripture states that the vital instruments of governance should not be lightly revealed. When manipulative tactics flourish among the populace, the state falls into chaos. Therefore, artisans should not pursue clever but useless crafts—utilitarian tools suffice; the people should not indulge in opportunistic schemes—only then can society retain its simplicity. Governance should be relaxed and non-intrusive. If the legal net is too tightly woven, forcing people into desperation, they will turn to banditry instead. From this, we better understand the truth of the ancient sages' maxims like "When I practice non-action, the people transform themselves."

Master Li concludes: excessive prohibitions, manipulations, crafts, and laws are all aberrations. When those in power impose fewer restrictions, the people prosper; when cunning tactics are eliminated, customs become honest; when taxes are lightened, the populace grows wealthy; when guided by virtue (De), human hearts remain simple. Thus the sages said: "Through my non-action, the people naturally transform; through my stillness, they naturally correct themselves; through my avoidance of meddling, they naturally prosper; through my desirelessness, they naturally return to simplicity."

Lü Dongbin (one of the Eight Immortals of Daoism) said that Laozi (Lord Lao) is the ancestral teacher of all teachings, just as the ancient sages proclaimed. Those with true wisdom maintain humility and dare not boast of themselves. Thus when governing a state, by not acting deliberately (Wuwei), the people live naturally and social customs become pure of their own accord.

Those who cultivate the true Dao regard their original spirit (Shen) as the sovereign and their vital energy (Qi) as the foundation. When the spirit is concentrated in non-action, the Qi naturally transforms into saliva, saliva into blood, blood into sinews, sinews into bones, bones into marrow, marrow into essential energy (Jing), Jing coalesces into the Mysterious Pearl (embryonic form of internal elixir), ultimately refining into the Golden Elixir (highest achievement of Neidan). This is what the Yin Fu Jing means by "all transformations originate from oneself." Therefore it is said: when I do not act deliberately, the people naturally transform; by being frugal, caring for the people, eliminating extravagance and pursuing substance, with simplicity as priority, the people can live in peace and households prosper naturally. Practitioners who maintain desirelessness find their breath becomes deep and long, with Qi filling the three Dantian (upper, middle and lower energy centers). Thus it is said: when I avoid stirring trouble, the people naturally become prosperous.

By maintaining stillness and few words, living with detachment and preserving the fundamental, the people maintain their innate nature and customs remain pure. When human spirit is agitated, the breath becomes coarse and hurried; when the spirit is tranquil, all meridians become harmonized and unobstructed, with Qi naturally purified. Therefore it is said: when I cherish serenity, the people naturally become upright. Without desires, maintaining emptiness and stillness, valuing the root while discarding the branches, taking simplicity as essential - the people return to their original purity. Practitioners whose original spirit (Shen) remains serene and desireless find their Qi condenses into the elixir embryo (rudimentary form of Neidan). Thus it is said: when I am without desire, the people naturally become simple.

He Xiangu (female Daoist immortal) added: When I do not act deliberately, the people naturally transform - forced action would instead bring failure; when I cherish serenity, the people naturally become upright - reckless movement would instead lose the proper way; when I avoid stirring trouble, the people naturally prosper - excessive striving would instead invite calamity; when I am without desire, the people naturally become simple - numerous desires would instead create burdens. This is the most sublime way of governance. In ancient times, Master Gai who mastered Huang-Lao teachings explained to Cao Can (renowned Han dynasty chancellor) that the essence of governance lies in serenity, whereby the people naturally settle. Applying this method, Cao Can governed Qi for nine years, achieving great order.

Li Xuan (Iron-Crutch Li) concluded: Non-action (Wuwei), desirelessness, avoiding trouble, and loving stillness are all aspects of the true Dao. Applying these principles to governance brings peace to the world; applying them to cultivation enables Qi to circulate naturally throughout the body.

This passage expounds principles of governance and self-cultivation, centering on the concepts of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and "rectifying the heart to cultivate the self."

Regarding statecraft, the scripture states: When rulers adopt a relaxed and natural ("mellow") approach to governance without contrived cleverness, the people remain simple and content ("pure"). Conversely, when policies become overly meticulous and harsh ("scrutinizing"), the people grow cunning and discontented ("deficient"). Fortune and misfortune perpetually transform into each other—what appears upright may become strange, what seems good may turn ominous—yet people persistently cling to rigid distinctions between right and wrong, a delusion deeply rooted through the ages.

For personal cultivation, Dao practitioners should emulate the ancient sage-kings by modeling themselves after the Dao of heaven. Maintaining a broad and natural mental state ("embracing spirit in primordial chaos"), free from forced discrimination ("serenely expansive"), one attains profound meditative stillness ("breathing deep and subtle")—only thus can immortal attainment be achieved. Overemphasizing one's own "righteousness" or "goodness" ironically transforms them into their opposites ("in making uprightness upright, it becomes unrighteous; in making goodness good, it becomes ungood").

Commentators highlight key insights: Lin observes that lenient policies foster natural contentment while harsh measures corrupt public morality; Li suggests preventing misfortune surpasses pursuing blessings, and guarding against deviation outweighs enforcing righteousness; Lü, from an alchemical perspective, explains that maintaining a natural Wuwei mindset is essential for attaining the Dao.

Collectively, this reveals profound dialectical wisdom: All phenomena contain their opposites in perpetual transformation. Excessive attachment to any single aspect inevitably generates its contrary. The optimal approach lies in preserving natural equilibrium.

When gazing at fish in the deep pool still leaves one unsatisfied, we see how severely people have lost their original nature. This leads to behaviors violating taboos, social customs deteriorating daily, and human hearts becoming fragmented and withered.

Novice Dao practitioners who haven't yet comprehended the profound mystery of the Dao (the Way) find their true Qi (vital energy) unable to coalesce, with minds constantly distracted by external things. Excessive pursuit of trivial details and admiration for cunning deception—attempting self-cultivation through such means only makes one's breath coarse and disperses their true essence (Jing, life's foundation). This is certainly not the proper path for nurturing life. Thus it is said: When governance becomes too harsh, the people become damaged and incomplete.

The roots of order and chaos, the sources of fortune and misfortune have existed since ancient times—all are actually self-invited. Calamity often lurks within good fortune—when blessings reach their peak, if one fails to maintain humility and reverence but instead becomes arrogant and extravagant, disaster inevitably follows. Likewise, fortune often hides within misfortune—if one can thoroughly reform in adversity through introspection and self-cultivation, misfortune may transform into blessing.

Heaven and earth operate through cycles of prosperity and decline, the sun and moon wax and wane—this endless interplay of fortune and misfortune continues perpetually. Those who govern the world would do better to maintain clarity and stillness through Wuwei (non-action), following nature's course: neither coveting wealth nor clinging to longevity, neither glorifying prominence nor shaming adversity. How then could the rotation of fortune and misfortune affect them?

True Dao cultivators neither actively seek fortune nor invite misfortune, attaining a state where self and objects are both forgotten—how could they be troubled by the changes of fortune and misfortune? Thus it is said: Fortune conceals misfortune, misfortune harbors fortune—who can discern their subtle mystery? The workings of Yin-Yang govern life and death, movement and stillness relate to auspicious and inauspicious—who can absolutely determine the boundaries between deviant and upright, good and evil?

The upright path is the broad highway, while extraordinary techniques become crooked byways; good intentions arise from original nature, while strange phenomena belong to abnormality. All these originate from the same heart, yet differentiate into four manifestations, having already deviated from pure, true Qi. Only sages can rectify human hearts—those who deliberately flaunt righteousness while behaving bizarrely actually damage the true path; those who forcibly display good deeds while causing strange phenomena ultimately undermine true goodness. The alternating appearances of good and evil, upright and deviant confuse people's original nature, leaving them wandering between extremes, unable to distinguish clearly.

Consider those of average capacity: occasionally hearing of the Great Dao may briefly generate good thoughts, but lacking steadfast determination, they're easily deluded by sensory impressions. In the snap of a finger, wild thoughts arise, and the newly sprouted righteous awareness transforms yet again.

This passage elucidates the principle of mutual transformation between things and the sage's profound wisdom in worldly affairs.

Things often transform into their opposites: the miraculous becomes decayed, the upright appears bizarre, and the benevolent seems demonic. Even sages find it difficult to fully comprehend these transformations, let alone ordinary people. Hence, human confusion and misunderstanding have existed since ancient times, not just in the present. Laozi said that precisely because there are no absolute standards of righteousness and evil, uprightness appears strange and benevolence seems sinister—the people's perplexity has indeed persisted for a long time.

Therefore, the sage navigates the world with great wisdom: being square-cornered yet not injurious, incorruptible yet not harsh, upright yet not unrestrained, brilliant yet not dazzling. As Master He explains, "cutting" refers to harming, and "piercing" means severity. The sage teaches by personal example but never uses squareness or incorruptibility to harm others. "Unrestrained" implies indulgence, while "dazzling" suggests ostentation. The sage guides people with uprightness and brilliance but never uses these qualities for self-display.

Master Dong further elaborates: The sage's conduct is square-cornered but his virtue (De) is rounded, thus he does not harm others; his mind is pure yet embraces all things, thus he is not harsh; his uprightness resembles curved lines (great straightness appears bent), and his brilliance remains restrained. These four qualities may seem foolish but actually represent the sage's governance through non-action (Wuwei). Maintaining serene non-action, the sage naturally integrates squareness, incorruptibility, uprightness, and brilliance without leaving traces, enabling all under heaven to abide in their true nature without clinging to extremes. Thus he avoids the faults of harm, harshness, indulgence, and ostentation, naturally staying clear of misfortune.

Chapter 59 mentions: "In governing people and serving heaven, nothing surpasses frugality." Master Lü explains that the sage governs the state through non-action, reducing expenditures to enrich the treasury and bring peace to the people. Then he cultivates his spirit (Shen) and purifies his body to worship heaven, achieving harmony between humans and deities. Human intelligence and physical actions must coordinate internally and externally—the key lies in maintaining proper measure, which is the true meaning of "frugality." Inner cultivation should be used for self-cultivation, governing this "person" that is oneself.

This scripture expounds on the principle of "restraint" (se, meaning frugality and conservation) as essential for both self-cultivation and governance. At its core, it teaches that whether nurturing life or ruling a state, the highest wisdom lies in knowing how to cherish resources.

The text first explains "restraint" in terms of health preservation: The brain (referred to as the "palace of pure Yang") resides at the body's summit like the highest heavens. To conserve one's Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit), one must practice: limiting visual stimuli to nourish the spirit, reducing auditory input to cultivate stillness, moderating speech to preserve Qi, regulating breath to maintain harmony, and protecting the brain to enrich vitality. This embodies the Daoist maxim: "In governing people and serving heaven, nothing surpasses restraint."

From a governance perspective, the text continues: Rulers stand between heaven and humanity. Rather than external pursuits, they should cultivate inner refinement. Sima Qian ranked Daoism first among six philosophical schools precisely for its emphasis on spiritual focus. Human life depends on the sustenance of spirit, while the physical form merely serves as its vessel. Excessive expenditure of Jing-Qi-Shen leads to depletion and death—hence the sage's supreme valuation of "restraint." This manifests as: moderating food and speech (avoiding gluttony and excessive talk), curbing sensory indulgence (resisting sensual distractions), and minimizing discursive thought. Such practice connects one with celestial forces above while benefiting the populace below.

Commentary by Master Wu adds that "restraint" constitutes the fundamental method for preserving physical form and safeguarding primordial Qi. Master Li further elaborates: Governance requires lightening punishments and taxes; self-cultivation demands temperance in diet and speech; spiritual refinement necessitates reducing mental clutter and restraining the senses—only thus can one nurture innate nature and align with heavenly principles.

Master Lü's concluding insight reveals: Adhering to "restraint" means returning early to one's original nature while accumulating De (virtue/power) continuously. This creates unimpeded efficacy, leading to unfathomable depths where state governance occurs naturally. The entire process resembles treasuring household resources through thrift—achieving life's fulfillment by nurturing inner qualities rather than chasing external desires.

This scripture primarily discusses attaining longevity and enduring vision through cultivating inner virtue (De). The core lies in the practice of "restraint" (se, meaning frugality and conservation), which involves treasuring one's spirit (Shen), gathering vital energy (Qi), and thereby returning to the origin of life.

First, the importance of "restraint" is explained: By cherishing one's spirit, vital energy, and essence (Jing), and stabilizing the foundation of life—preventing their dissipation—one can swiftly return to the primordial state. This path of frugality manifests in two aspects: First, in governing the people with benevolent virtue (De), and second, in accumulating virtue by following the Dao (the Way), which brings harmony and joy. When inner cultivation achieves "restraint," the breath becomes gentle, the mind tranquil, and one returns to the original state, unaffected by external influences.

Through deepening practice and accumulating profound virtue, all obstacles can be overcome. By restraining selfish desires, practicing ritual propriety, and cultivating the Dao with a benevolent heart, one naturally resonates with heaven and earth, and all things align in harmony. The inner practitioner, embracing non-contention and inclusiveness, thus encounters no resistance. Upon reaching the highest state, life transcends the limits of time, preserving eternal youth.

The scripture uses governance as a metaphor for self-cultivation: Just as a wise ruler governs with benevolent virtue to ensure lasting peace, a cultivator nourishes body and mind with virtue (De) to achieve longevity and enduring vision. "The mother of the state" refers to this fundamental cultivation of virtue, akin to the deep roots of a great tree—the path to enduring existence.

Finally, various commentaries add: Accumulating virtue is like gathering water to form an ocean or condensing energy to form the spirit (Shen); responding to the transformations of all things with perfect appropriateness; merging with the undifferentiated Dao. Governing the state and cultivating the self follow the same principle—grasping this fundamental truth allows one to preserve life (or the state) long. The so-called "early return" means reverting to the origin of life through the practice of "restraint," where the more virtue is accumulated, the deeper it becomes.

This passage employs the metaphor of state governance to elucidate the principles of nurturing life and cultivating the Dao. It explains that the foundation of a state resembles the primordial Qi (vital energy) in the human body—the physical form serves as the vessel for this Qi, while Qi itself constitutes the fundamental basis of physical existence. Primordial Qi arises from spiritual consciousness (Shen), just as the physical form depends on Qi for its integrity. The ancient sage Fuxi (legendary progenitor of Chinese civilization) mastered this principle to regulate primordial Qi.

Spirit is the offspring of primordial Qi, while Qi is the mother of spirit. Without Qi, the physical form cannot take shape; without regulated Qi, the body loses its governing force. When Qi dissipates, life ends; when Qi remains, life continues. Thus, rulers who grasp the state's foundation achieve lasting stability, just as those who accumulate De (Virtue/Power) govern people by aligning with the Dao of Heaven—enriching the nation and nourishing citizens through Wuwei (non-action) and serene self-containment.

The text reveals key aspects of bodily cultivation: the brain serves as the root while the navel functions as the stem. Through deep breathing that mobilizes primordial Qi to nourish the brain, Daoist adages state "to avoid aging, guide Jing (essence) and Qi to replenish the brain." One must then close the gates of desire, storing Qi deeply in the Dantian (lower abdominal energy center) to establish fetal respiration (a profound breathing state). Located at the navel's center, the Dantian is where primordial Qi becomes anchored.

For longevity practice, first stabilize this Dantian foundation. By inhaling the Great Harmony Qi from heaven and earth, maintaining inward spiritual focus with elongated breath, one may achieve the lifespan of heaven-earth and radiance of sun-moon. Another Daoist saying advises "for longevity, first learn inner vision"—the practice of internal self-observation.

Commentator Lin summarizes that this chapter uses statecraft as metaphor for life-nurturing. Those who understand restraint and regulation can stabilize life's foundation to attain enduring vision. Scholar Su adds that applying restraint in governing preserves the state, while applying restraint in following heaven's Dao establishes deep roots and firm stems. Ancient sages preserved life by preventing external things from depleting internal Qi, making their foundations unshakable for natural longevity. Though governing people and following heaven differ as external/internal practices, both share restraint as fundamental principle.

The passage concludes with Laozi's Daode Jing Chapter 60 analogy: "Governing a great state is like cooking small fish." Commentator Lü explains: Overseeing large nations shouldn't be overly meticulous lest people become disordered, just as constantly flipping small fish while cooking makes them crumble. Thus skilled rulers resemble adept chefs who understand measured handling.

This passage uses the metaphor of cooking fish to illustrate principles of governance and self-cultivation. When small fish are cooked in a pot, properly regulating the fire and water allows them to cook naturally while remaining intact. Constant stirring, however, will break and spoil the flesh. Similarly, governing people requires harmonizing policies and education to let them live peacefully—excessive interference harms the populace and leads to social instability.

Governing a state must take the people as its foundation, just as cultivating life must root itself in primordial Qi (vital energy). Cherishing the people brings prosperity to the nation; nurturing Qi ensures longevity of the body. Like not stirring small fish arbitrarily while cooking, both governance and self-cultivation must follow the principle of Qingjing Wuwei (clarity, stillness, and non-action), as excessive intervention only causes depletion.

Li's commentary explains that governing with the Dao requires policies to be generous and balanced. Managing human affairs while conforming to heavenly principles constitutes the essence of statecraft. "Small fish" serves as a metaphor—just as stirring ruins the fish, excessive meddling in governance brings chaos to the world.

Lin further elaborates that stirring small fish breaks them, just as interfering in governance creates disorder. Qingjing Wuwei—governing without disturbing the people—is the true way of statecraft.

The passage then discusses how "when the Dao governs the world, its ghosts lose their supernatural power." Lü explains that when sages govern through Wuwei (non-action), winds and rains come seasonally, human hearts remain peaceful, and even ghosts submit to sagely virtue, daring not cause mischief. Cultivators who nurture body and mind find harmful Qi dissipating, leaving evil spirits powerless to manifest.

Wu interprets "govern" as the act of rulership, with "ghosts" representing the spiritual energies between heaven and earth. When a ruler governs with clarity and stillness, the people's Qi flows harmoniously, resonating with cosmic energies so that no strange disasters occur.

He cites Zhuangzi: when sages must govern the world, their best method is Wuwei. Through non-action, people abide in their true nature, all things achieve natural harmony, and calamities do not arise. The Heshang Gong commentary shares this perspective.

When rulers govern the world through the principles of Dao and De (Virtue), ghosts and spirits dare not manifest their powers to harm the people. This does not mean these supernatural beings lose their divine abilities, but rather that the virtuous influence of sages ensures deities will not injure humanity.

Commentator Lü Huiqing explains: It's not that ghosts lack supernatural transformations, but because the sage adheres to the correct Dao, harmonizing the forces of heaven and earth. By helping people obtain blessings, ghosts dare not stir trouble, nor would deities casually inflict calamities. The reason Dao practitioners remain unharmed by ghosts is their alignment with the natural Dao—supernatural beings cannot harm those who follow heaven's way.

The sage pities every suffering individual, protecting them with the devotion of a father caring for his children—how could they possibly bring harm? When humans align with the natural Dao, not only do deities dare not offend them, but sages wouldn't harm them either. Since sages venerate Dao and De, how could they injure those who embody the Dao?

Commentator Wu Cheng observes: Ghosts indeed possess spiritual powers, yet refrain from creating disasters even with such abilities. Their non-interference isn't voluntary—it's because sages maintain the people's Qi (vital energy) in harmony, preventing disturbances in heaven-earth energies. Thus, the cosmic Qi remains balanced and non-harmful. Both "ghosts" and "spirits" are different manifestations of the same heavenly-earthly Qi.

Heshang Gong (renowned Han dynasty Daoist scholar) notes: Ghosts don't lack spiritual potency—they simply cannot harm those aligned with the natural Dao. When humans and spirits cease mutual injury, their respective virtues intermingle harmoniously.

Lü further elaborates: The visible realm is governed by humans, the invisible by ghosts. Humans preserve their Jing (essence), ghosts preserve their Shen (spirit), coexisting without conflict. This creates a state where heaven is clear and earth serene, Yin-Yang balanced, harvests abundant, all beings secure, nations free from calamity, and ghosts causing no disturbances—the perfect manifestation of Dao and De in communion.

This passage elucidates the principle of Yin-Yang harmony and natural Wuwei (non-action). Darkness represents Yin, brightness represents Yang - when these two forces coexist without mutual interference, the governance of sages can be achieved. Both heaven-earth and sages follow the natural Dao, each maintaining their proper roles without encroachment, thus allowing their De (Virtue/Power) to manifest perfectly.

To govern the world (here "world" encompasses the three realms of heaven, earth and humanity) with the Dao means heaven provides shelter, earth provides sustenance, and sages provide guidance. When these three fulfill their respective duties without interference, all accord with the great Dao. As Master Heshang noted, spirits and sages don't interfere with each other: humans receive governance in the yang realm while spirits remain peaceful in the yin realm; humans preserve their lives while spirits maintain their Shen (spirit). Thus their De exists in harmonious coexistence.

In ancient times when chaos first divided, people lived without contention. Then Yin-Yang remained naturally tranquil, spirits caused no disturbances, the four seasons followed their course, all things suffered no harm, and no creatures died prematurely. Though people possessed wisdom, they had no use for it - this was the purest state of "ultimate unity," where everything became perfected through natural Wuwei.

Chapter 61 uses the metaphor of large and small states to illustrate how those who understand the Dao should remain humble and tranquil. This isn't teaching humility as a strategy for victory, but rather using historical examples of state conflicts to convey deeper principles. "Lower position" refers to voluntarily assuming a humble stance - just as major rivers become lords of all streams by remaining low, so too can a great state that humbles itself gather the world's strength, much like the female overcomes the male through stillness. The Classic of Zuo contains similar teachings about how people naturally gravitate toward rulers who embody such inclusive virtue.

When heaven and earth interact through yin and yang, all things can flourish; when people communicate with one another, they can achieve great endeavors. This embodies the principle of "mutual cooperation" (yu).

The human body is like a small kingdom. If one can relinquish self-attachment, all bones and joints will naturally harmonize; maintaining inner emptiness and stillness allows harmonious Qi to naturally gather. The realm of emptiness is where sages dwell, which can be called the "great kingdom." Precisely because it does not contend with others, no one in the world can contend with it.

The essences of all things intermingle like countless streams flowing downward to converge. Thus, a great kingdom should emulate the humility of a river's lower reaches, becoming the meeting place of the world. The softest feminine principle (yin) in the world does not initially seek victory—because it remains tranquil, it often ultimately prevails. Victory through humility attracts all things to submit. The feminine is tranquil while the masculine is restless; soft stillness overcomes hard movement. As the Daode Jing states: "Knowing the masculine yet cleaving to the feminine, becoming the valley of the world." This demonstrates the practical application of humble De (virtue). Those who govern kingdoms and people will find nothing insurmountable if they practice this.

Heaven's primal energy generates water (original Qi), manifesting in humans as Jing (vital essence); earth's secondary energy generates fire, manifesting as Shen (spirit). Shen is the yin within yang, thus called the "feminine"—the world's principle of yielding softness. Knowing strength yet embracing softness, focusing Qi to achieve harmony, using yin to refine yang—this is the profound method of cultivation. Therefore, the feminine always prevails through stillness, as stillness naturally attracts all things; humility naturally draws followers. This is the essential secret of spiritual cultivation.

Thus, when a great kingdom humbly approaches smaller ones, it gains their allegiance; when small kingdoms humbly approach greater ones, they receive inclusion. Sometimes one actively seeks through humility, other times one passively receives through humility.

Lin Xiyi comments: When a great kingdom wins over smaller ones, it's called "actively taking"; when small kingdoms win over greater ones, it's called "passively receiving"—these phrases are uniquely worded. Lü Huiqing says: Only the benevolent can manifest a great kingdom serving smaller ones; only the wise can manifest small kingdoms serving greater ones. A great kingdom serving smaller ones demonstrates joyful acceptance of heaven's will, while small kingdoms serving greater ones show reverent awe of heaven's mandate. Wu Cheng explains: Though naturally superior, a great kingdom that humbly approaches smaller ones without relying on its dignity makes them gladly submit; though naturally inferior, small kingdoms that willingly assume humble positions to respectfully serve greater ones gain their acceptance.

This scripture primarily discusses the proper way for large and small states to interact, using political relationships to illustrate the Daoist philosophy of "humility and deference" in human affairs.

In ancient times, large states should treat smaller ones with modesty and inclusiveness, just as King Tang of Shang served the Lord of Ge or King Wen of Zhou served the Kunyi tribes. Similarly, small states should show reverence and compliance toward larger ones, as King Tai of Zhou served the Xunyu or King Goujian of Yue served the state of Wu. When both superior and inferior practice mutual deference, their Virtue (De) naturally harmonizes. The same principle applies to personal cultivation: the more humble one's mind becomes, the higher their attainment of the Dao (the Way); the more one yields in posture, the more their Virtue (De) flourishes.

The aspiration of a large state is simply to unite and accommodate more people, while a small state seeks only to align itself with a greater power for protection. If both sides maintain an attitude of humility, each can fulfill their respective needs. However, special emphasis is placed on the larger state taking the initiative to demonstrate humility—because small states, being naturally weaker, already understand deference, whereas large states are prone to arrogance and thus must remain vigilant.

Commentaries from various schools point out that a large state practices humility to lead more small states, while a small state does so to secure protection from a greater power. Only when both sides remain within their proper roles and refrain from encroaching upon one another can harmony be maintained. Although this chapter discusses both large and small states, its core message is a warning to the powerful (large states) to actively lower their posture—because the weak (small states) already understand humility, while the strong are often prone to complacency and thus must pay special attention to the path of modesty.

The Dao (the fundamental source of the universe and natural law) is the most profound mystery of all things, serving as both a treasure for the virtuous and a refuge for the unvirtuous.

As Master He explains, the Dao is formless and motionless, like a potter shaping all things in silence. The Great Dao is vast and unfathomable, impossible to dissect from without or dismantle from within. It resembles the most secluded southwest corner of an ancient house (a position of reverence in antiquity), not easily seen by ordinary means. Zhuangzi said, "The Dao is the path all things follow," which is why this chapter first mentions "treasure" and then "honor." The Dao has never strayed from humanity—it is people who stray from the Dao. Though people may be virtuous or unvirtuous, even the unvirtuous unknowingly rely on the Dao to find peace.

Master Wu elaborates: The "mystery" of all things refers to the Dao's supreme nobility within creation, much like the revered southwest position in ancient homes. Virtuous people cherish the Dao and cultivate it diligently, earning respect; if the unvirtuous repent and turn toward the Dao, they too can preserve themselves.

Graceful words can win respect, and noble conduct can influence others. How, then, can the unvirtuous be abandoned? Thus, when appointing the Son of Heaven (the emperor) and the Three Dukes (highest ministers of state), rather than presenting jade disks with both hands or riding in a four-horse chariot to display goodwill, it is better to sit quietly and cultivate this Dao.

Master Li adds: Graceful words can delight the masses, and noble conduct can elevate one above the crowd. Even the unvirtuous should be treated with kindness—how can they be cast aside? The establishment of the Son of Heaven and the Three Dukes aims to educate the people, guiding the unvirtuous to reform. Precious jade disks and chariots pale in comparison to the value of cultivating this Dao—first refine the self to bring peace to the people, guide them with humility to prevent conflict, teach them with virtue and righteousness to inspire goodness, and clarify standards of right and wrong so they know what to avoid. Thus, the sage excels at saving others and never abandons anyone.

Master Chai concludes: The true essence of the Dao is like a treasure, hence the saying, "Graceful words can win favor." The nobility of De (Virtue) commands universal respect, hence the saying, "Noble conduct can influence others." The unvirtuous should be educated, not discarded, which is why the Son of Heaven and the Three Dukes are established to assist in spreading this teaching.

This passage elucidates the preciousness of the Dao. Master Wu explains: Virtuous people are revered because they follow the Dao—their beautiful words are cherished like rare treasures in the marketplace, and their exemplary conduct becomes a model for others to emulate. Even those lacking virtue can preserve themselves through the Dao, avoiding transgressions out of reverence for its majesty, thereby attaining peace. This demonstrates the Dao never abandons anyone.

Though ceremonial jade discs (拱璧) and chariots drawn by four horses (驷马) are supremely valuable, they pale in comparison to the preciousness of comprehending the Dao. All things honor the Dao as supreme, for it contains the fundamental mystery of existence.

Master He further clarifies: The ancients valued Dao-realization over jade and chariots because pursuing the Dao brings both wisdom and absolution from transgressions. Master Lin supplements that the Dao inherently resides in every heart—cultivating its virtue depends entirely on oneself. A single virtuous thought can reform one's faults, just as even wicked people may purify themselves through fasting and ablutions (道教净化身心的仪式) to worship heaven. The Dao discriminates not between sage and fool—whoever comprehends it attains it.

Master He continues: Noble persons delight in virtuous deeds through Dao-attainment, while petty individuals feel shame for evil through desire-satisfaction. Even the unvirtuous may unknowingly turn their hearts and reform their ways. Such is the Dao's magnificent function in the world, esteemed as most precious since antiquity.

Chapter 63 discusses the state of Wuwei (non-action). Master Lü explains: Sages appear to practice non-action yet actually act in accordance with all things' inherent nature—thus they achieve the state of "non-action yet nothing left undone," maintaining constant inner peace. Seeming to undertake no affairs, they allow matters to develop naturally—hence "no affairs yet nothing unaddressed," their bodies never wearied. Appearing to savor no flavors, they harmonize with all things' essential tastes—thus realizing "flavorless yet all flavors embodied."

This passage expounds the core philosophy of Daoist cultivation, emphasizing the attainment of omnipotence through Wuwei (non-action).

The discourse on "flavor" reveals that true taste does not lie in sensory pleasure. When the mind is unattached to flavors, one can comprehend all genuine tastes. The perfected person (zhiren) dedicated to cultivation focuses on nurturing life without reckless action; pursues the Dao of authentic cultivation without indulging in worldly affairs; savors the true essence of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) without craving pungent delicacies. This is what's meant by "acting through non-action, accomplishing through non-doing, tasting through flavorlessness."

Lin's commentary explains: Only by first practicing non-action can one become capable of all actions; only by not being entangled in affairs can one accomplish great deeds; only by not clinging to flavors can one truly savor. Li further elaborates: Governing through non-action can achieve everything; accomplishing without deliberate effort leads to success in all endeavors; profound genuine flavors are perceived through flavorless detachment. These three realms all embody the profound mysteries of the Great Dao.

Regarding "great and small, much and little," the text states that De should be employed to dissolve resentment. Difficult matters should be approached from their easy aspects, and great undertakings should begin with minute details. Lü's commentary explains: While phenomena manifest in sizes and quantities, the perfected person can contain the vast void within a square inch of space and govern all things through pristine authenticity. When reaching the state of unity with all existence, resentment naturally dissipates.

All disputes and grievances originate from subtle beginnings, developing from ease to difficulty, from minuteness to magnitude. Therefore, one should address matters when they're still easy to handle at their inception and attend to them while they remain subtle. For cultivators, personal difficulties must also be corrected at their initial stages.

Attaining immortality through cultivation is the most important endeavor in life, and its essence lies in practicing the great Dao. Though the path of true cultivation (referring to fundamental Daoist practices) may seem arduous, when approached through simple, gradual methods with steadfast determination, what difficulty remains insurmountable? The same principle applies to walking the Dao – beginning with subtle actions and persevering, accumulating small virtues eventually leads to great De (Virtue/Power).

Lin's commentary explains: Those capable of great achievements must first master small matters; those who can embrace multitudes must first accept the few; those who return De for enmity must first experience resentment. Tackling difficult tasks begins with their easy aspects, and great undertakings originate from minute beginnings. Like savoring flavorless food – these are all metaphors. Difficult matters invariably start from simplicity, and grand affairs always emerge from subtlety, further elaborating the preceding text.

Liu raises a question: Confucius advocated "repaying enmity with justice," yet here it says "repaying enmity with De" – why the difference? Laozi teaches people to maintain softness and weakness, following heavenly principles without contention, thereby avoiding celestial punishment and human calamity. If one repays enmity with justice, how can resentment be dissolved? Confucius spoke from momentary indignation – ultimately, repaying enmity with De proves more appropriate.

Thus, the sage (one who has realized the Dao) never deliberately pursues greatness, yet thereby achieves it. Lü's commentary states: Sages don't undertake difficult, grandiose tasks – appearing to practice Wuwei (non-action) and accomplish nothing, simple and comprehensible, yet they establish enduring, magnificent foundations. Embracing Dao and De, sages possess self-knowledge without self-display, practice self-love without self-exaltation. Within their true nature (human's innate essence), they forget all yet encompass all – reaching ultimate tranquility while all virtues follow naturally.

Li supplements: Sages accomplish great deeds without claiming greatness, just as heaven creates all things without calling itself heaven; sages attain sagehood yet credit the people. Precisely because they don't proclaim themselves sages, they become true sages. Lin adds: Sages don't magnify themselves but maintain humility, thus achieving true greatness.

Hasty promises inevitably lack sincerity; regarding matters as too easy invites greater difficulties. Therefore, sages approach minor affairs with equal caution, ultimately encountering no true obstacles. Lü explains: Rash promises demonstrate insincerity – reckless commitments become empty words; treating matters as simple and acting carelessly inevitably brings hardship. Even with a sage's natural endowment, one must still exercise prudence in trivial matters – how much more so for those who make promises lightly?

In handling worldly affairs, one should never act rashly or carelessly, yet in cultivating the Dao (the Way), one must practice diligently—ultimately finding no true difficulty therein. Those who make promises lightly will surely lack sincerity in fulfilling them; those who regard matters as overly simple will inevitably face multiplied hardships. Thus it is said that by first enduring difficulty one later gains—for hardship and ease mutually complete each other.

Li Yue (Li Shi) explains: What appears difficult may in fact be accomplished with ease, while what seems easy may prove hard to achieve. Simple matters must not be treated lightly, for once disregarded, they are easily overlooked. Thus, even sages (those who have attained the Dao) approach them with caution. What is gained with difficulty is lost with equal difficulty. By never acting carelessly, one ultimately encounters no true hardship.

Lin Xiyi (Lin Shi) adds: Those who make promises lightly often exaggerate and ultimately fail to keep their word. Those who approach affairs with a casual attitude mostly meet with failure. Here, a metaphor illustrates the principle, but the addition of the word "夫" (fu) shifts the meaning further. Earlier, "ease" was mentioned to caution against treating matters lightly—hence this turn of phrase: the so-called "ease" does not mean recklessness. If even sages approach things with care, ultimately attaining a state free from hardship, how much more should ordinary people? The deeper meaning is that the "ease" mentioned earlier refers to the natural state achieved through wuwei (non-action) and avoiding unnecessary complications—not mistaking carelessness for true ease.

He Yan (He Shi) elaborates further: Those who speak beautifully but fail to act will surely invite misfortune. Those who make promises lightly hold their word lightly. The more casually one speaks, the more difficulties arise. Sages handle affairs by following the principle of wuwei (non-action), their detachment and desirelessness already immersed in the formless Dao (the essence of the Way). Being and non-being transform into one another; great and small, hardship and ease, mutually complete each other—all manifestations shift according to circumstance, yet all are expressions of the Dao. Though engaging with all things, they remain unbound by external matters, skillfully accomplishing without omission. Thus, nothing needs to be deliberately remembered, yet nothing is beyond inclusion. From this, we see the sage’s mind—neither deliberately pursuing "being" nor clinging to "non-being."