《道德真經藏室纂微篇》Vol. 7

When the world is governed with clarity, warhorses are returned to plow the fields. "To retreat" (que) means to remove, and "to manure" (fen) refers to cultivation. "The world has the Dao" signifies an era of peace. In times of stability, the people prosper, ancestral temples flourish, the nation is tranquil, feudal lords submit, the four seas are calm, and warfare ceases. Everyone devotes themselves to farming, households compete in cultivating mulberry fields, abandoning the martial prowess of warhorses to return to the normalcy of agricultural life. Thus, heaven and earth harmonize, and all things are at ease.

When the world is in chaos, warhorses give birth to foals in the borderlands. "Borderlands" (jiao) refer to the frontiers between states. "The world lacks the Dao" signifies an era of decline. In times of disorder, officials neglect their duties, rulers are troubled, state treasuries are depleted, floods and droughts occur frequently, bandits rise everywhere, the strong oppress the weak, the people lose their livelihoods, and all grow accustomed to war. Naturally, warhorses bear foals at the borders, and at such times, Yin and Yang are imbalanced, and all things suffer in sorrow.

The greatest crime lies in indulging desires. When people harbor a heart that craves greed, they pursue relentlessly, disregarding reason, like a raging fire. Those who chase trivial gains lose the weight of Mount Tai; those who indulge in extravagance inevitably face the shackles of punishment. The root of sin has no greater source than this. The Liezi records: A man from Qi desired gold. One morning, dressed formally, he went to the market, walked straight to the gold vendor, grabbed the gold, and ran. The officials caught him and asked, "With so many people present, how dare you steal gold?" He replied, "When I took the gold, I saw no people—only gold." This is to gaze upon muddy water yet drown in a clear pool.

The greatest calamity lies in never being content. Disaster! Those with desires still know restraint in their pursuits, but the insatiable refuse to relinquish anything their eyes behold. Overflowing without knowing to diminish, ruin follows. Thus, the occurrence of calamity has no greater cause than dissatisfaction.

The greatest misfortune lies in insatiable greed. Misfortune! What the eyes can see is ultimately limited. Yet some covet all things under heaven, whether seen or unseen, wishing to possess everything for themselves, leaving nothing for others. This is the most un-Dao-like behavior. Not only does it bring harm to oneself, but it also brings disaster to future generations. So-called "sin" refers to violating prohibitions. When first transgressing, one still knows restraint.

The Daode Zhenjing Zangshi Zuanwei Pian (Exquisite Compilation from the Treasury Chamber on the True Scripture of Dao and De) presents two core teachings: the wisdom of "knowing contentment" and the principle of "understanding the world without leaving one's door."

Regarding the classification of transgressions: Daoism categorizes faults into three levels. Initial mistakes are called "guo" (minor faults), referring to unintentional errors. Accumulating 1,080 such faults elevates them to "huo" (calamities), indicating greater harm. Committing another 2,160 faults transforms them into "jiu" (grave offenses), the most severe category. These all represent deviations from the Dao—minor cases harm oneself, while major ones can lead to the fall of nations. How can we not remain vigilant?

True contentment isn't found in external possessions. Consider the Han Dynasty recluse Yan Junping (a renowned Daoist figure) who lived in poverty yet felt abundantly satisfied, while his wealthy friend Luo Chong with vast riches remained perpetually unsatisfied. Junping observed: the rich labor day and night without peace, whereas he sustained himself through divination, having surplus coins yet not knowing how to spend them. Upon hearing this, Luo Chong sighed: pursuing wealth exhausts one's shen (spirit), chasing fame endangers life itself. This embodies the wisdom of "he who knows contentment is always content."

The second part discusses the sage's method of governing. True wisdom requires no physical travel to understand worldly affairs—this knowledge comes through extending one's awareness: when eating, think of the world's hungry; when dressing, consider the world's cold; cherishing one's parents reveals the needs of all elders; loving one's children illuminates the condition of all youth. This state of "knowing the world without leaving home" is achieved through inner cultivation.

(Note: "Imperial summons" refers to government appointments; "human stillness" indicates the ancient time period equivalent to 9-11 PM; "a peck of grain" denotes an ancient measurement representing minimal quantity)

This passage explains the interconnectedness between human primordial Qi (元气) and the Dao of Heaven (天道). If a ruler can maintain purity of body and mind, the Qi of heaven and earth will be clear and harmonious; if indulgent in desires, it will become turbid and chaotic. The true ruler (one who has attained the Dao) possesses Virtue (德) that aligns with heaven, earth, sun, and moon. His actions precede heaven’s will yet heaven does not oppose them; they follow heavenly timing yet conform to natural laws. Without deliberate observation, he comprehends the Dao of Heaven.

Yan Junping (a Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) said: Thus, the sage need not step beyond his door yet can trace the Dao of his ancestors above and discern the principles of descendants below. Safety, danger, benefit, and harm all turn inward to self-reflection—thereby understanding the principles of life and death, seeing the essence of right and wrong, penetrating the root of advantage and harm, and grasping the key to order and chaos. Through himself, he understands the family; through the family, he understands others. In action, he holds to the essential; in handling affairs, he masters the pattern. When moving, he knows the direction; when still, he understands what to uphold. He regards the Dao and Virtue (道德) as his father, the divine spirit (神明) as his mother, purity and stillness as his teacher, and the Great Harmony (太和, the balanced state of Yin-Yang) as his friend. He sees the world as his home and all things as his body. He views others as himself and himself as others. His heart harbors no delusions; his will remains unassertive. He discards cleverness and severs distractions. Dwelling in mountain caves, he does not harm living creatures; he does not eat unripe plants nor pluck immature fruit. Heaven, earth, and all things each abide in their natural state—this is the principle of embodying the unity of all things by aligning oneself with the Dao.

Those who seek outwardly the farthest actually know the least. A ruler who turns from the Great Dao (大道) does not emulate the Dao of Heaven but relies on petty cleverness to observe things—the farther he seeks, the less he truly understands. Yan Junping said: Examine heaven and earth, verify ancient and modern times—act without violating these principles, and you will realize the Dao of heaven and earth is all contained within yourself. The family is the root for understanding others; the self is the source for knowing heaven and earth. Not observing the world through oneself, not understanding others through the family—this is abandoning the near to seek the far, where petty wisdom leads to great confusion. Leaving home to wander afar only obscures the world; distancing oneself to peer outward only blinds one to the Dao of Heaven. The farther one goes, the less one knows; traveling the four seas only deepens bewilderment; the more one seeks, the smaller one’s achievements become. Without looking or listening, turn inward—and the mysteries between heaven and humanity will all become clear.

The ancient texts say: To govern the world, first govern the state; to govern the state, first govern the family; to govern the family, first cultivate the self; to cultivate the self, first cultivate the heart-mind.

To cultivate one's heart-mind, one must first be sincere in one's intentions. Thus, if a noble person lacks sincerity, they cannot perceive the essence of all things. This is the principle of applying cultivation to body and mind.

Those who attain the Dao (sages) comprehend truth without personal experience and understand the patterns of heavenly Dao without direct observation. By examining themselves, they grasp external phenomena—this is called inner awakening. Without studying celestial phenomena, they elucidate the laws of heaven—this is inferring grand principles from small details and comprehending profound realms through immediate experience, known as mystical insight.

Sages appear to practice non-action (Wuwei) yet accomplish all things. They govern the world by following the principle of Wuwei, recognizing that all things have their inherent nature and need only accord with spontaneity. As Confucius said, "Could it be Shun who ruled through non-action?"

The pursuit of scholarly knowledge leads to constant accumulation. When people begin distinguishing between "speakable Dao" and "nameable things," the custom of honoring virtue and promoting worthiness arises. Scholars then read extensively to broaden knowledge, competing in displays of erudition, unconsciously losing their original simplicity.

Cultivating the Great Dao requires constant reduction. After excessive accumulation of knowledge, one must diminish cognition to return to the root—like a child returning to its mother's embrace to rediscover the primal origin. This process of "returning to the beginning and reverting to the root" first discards cleverness to grasp essential truths, daily reducing attachments until gradually entering the mysterious state of emptiness and stillness.

Through continuous reduction, one ultimately attains Wuwei. This reduction means no coarse thought remains unrelinquished—even the concept of "evil" must be forgotten. Next, subtle attachments are eliminated until distinctions of "good" disappear, for "good" is also human judgment. One must reduce both erroneous perceptions and so-called correct views. When all judgments of right and wrong fade, selfish desires naturally vanish, and one's nature merges with the Dao.

Having reached Wuwei, one neither competes with the myriad things nor obstructs their spontaneous development. Yet by allowing all things to follow their natural course, nothing remains unaccomplished.

Governing the world requires maintaining clarity and non-interference. Those who constantly meddle are unfit to rule. Sages practice the Great Dao by first cultivating themselves before extending it to the world. Earlier passages discuss self-cultivation through Wuwei; here we see state governance through non-interference. Thus, the sage's concern is always that even a single thing might be out of place. To remedy chaos and corruption, the key lies in winning the people's hearts. To win hearts, one should take clarity and non-interference as the method, spontaneity and Wuwei as the teaching, and desirelessness as the treasure—then the people's customs will naturally return to simplicity.

Governing the world should be rooted in clarity and wuwei (non-action), for only then will the people naturally support their ruler without weariness. If those in power act forcefully and issue complicated decrees, the people will grow exhausted in compliance, watching with fearful sidelong glances. Such governance inspires only dread—how could it ever win the hearts of the world? (The harder one strives for control, the more it slips away.)

The sage who has attained the Dao harbors no fixed private desires but instead takes the people's will as his own. Following the great Dao and maintaining emptiness and stillness, the sage naturally resonates with all things. Since the people's needs vary, the sage's responses have no fixed pattern. The people's most fundamental wish is simply to live in peace and follow their inherent nature. When the sage enables each person to fulfill their reasonable aspirations, is this not truly making the people's heart his own? As Zhuangzi said, the perfected person uses the mind like a clear mirror—neither deliberately accommodating nor rejecting, faithfully reflecting without retaining traces. Thus he can respond to all things without suffering harm.

To the virtuous, the sage responds with virtue; to those lacking virtue, he still transforms them with goodwill. For those among the people whose nature inclines toward goodness, the sage guides them in accordance with their disposition. For those temporarily lacking goodness, he influences them with virtuous De (Virtue/Power), allowing their natural transformation toward goodness. Thus there are none in the world who cannot become good. This is the sage's way of teaching through alignment with all things' inherent nature, never compelling others to submit.

To the trustworthy, the sage responds with trust; to those lacking integrity, he still extends faith. For those among the people whose nature is sincere, the sage nurtures their honesty. For those temporarily untrustworthy, he influences them through confidence, enabling their spontaneous return to integrity. Thus there are none in the world who cannot become trustworthy. This is the sage's attitude of respecting all things' authentic state, never manipulating them with material incentives.

When governing the world, the sage labors diligently (the term "didi" describes untiring effort) while maintaining a mind of undifferentiated wholeness. Ancient sage-kings, though diligent in administration and sharing the people's joys and hardships, preserved inner emptiness and tranquility, merging with the natural Dao. Thus they could accord with heaven and earth's transformations, accomplishing great order through wuwei.

The passage expounds on the sage's governance of the world and the Daoist understanding of life and death.

When governing the world, sages do not forcibly alter the inherent nature of things, but rather follow natural laws, allowing people to maintain their simple and genuine disposition. Sages do not deliberately exhaust their Shen (spirit) with anxious thoughts to interfere with worldly affairs. As Lu Xisheng described, they move in harmony with the transformations of all things, their inner being unified with the world. Confucius' "Four Prohibitions" (against subjective assumptions, absolute certainties, stubborn opinions, and self-righteousness) precisely embody this state—achieving the condition where nothing is impossible yet nothing is deliberately done.

Commentaries by Heshanggong and Wang Bi mention that sages implement moral transformation through Wuwei (non-action), never violating the intrinsic nature of things. People naturally emulate the sage's conduct—the clever observe with their eyes, the astute listen with their ears—yet the sage themselves keeps eyes lowered and ears closed, deliberately avoiding the use of cleverness, treating all people with the tenderness one shows infants.

Regarding the Dao of life and death, the scripture teaches that all things emerge from emptiness, with nature generating the Dao, the Dao transforming into primordial Qi (vital energy), and this Qi differentiating to form the myriad beings—this constitutes "emergence into life." When transformations return to formlessness, this is called "entering death." Both life and death exist within the cyclical movement of the Dao. Those adept at nourishing life (the followers of life) and those heading toward death (the followers of death) each constitute three-tenths of humanity. Han Feizi explains that the activity of humans' four limbs and nine orifices (totaling thirteen organs) determines life and death. Those skilled in nurturing life neither overuse their senses nor indulge in excess, maintaining proper balance between movement and stillness while avoiding harmful behaviors. Those courting death, however, indulge their senses and become addicted to sensual pleasures.

This passage embodies core Daoist principles: governing through natural conformity and Wuwei (non-action), along with cultivation methods that emphasize tempering sensory desires to nourish life.

The ears indulge in lascivious music, the nose is trapped in foul odors, the mouth craves improper delicacies, the hands habitually wield deadly weapons, the feet eagerly tread wicked paths—every word and action steeped in such indulgence marks a fool approaching death. The crux of life and death hangs upon these thirteen gateways (referring to sensory indulgences of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body). Sun Deng (a recluse of the Wei-Jin period) said: Among heaven, earth, and the myriad things, few living beings follow celestial principles while many defy them—thus only three in ten align with the natural order. Those who live without following the Dao and die without heeding cosmic patterns are rare in compliance but abundant in transgression; hence only three in ten deaths accord with heavenly decree. Some explain: Regarding the three karmic actions (body, speech, and mind) and ten evils (killing, stealing, etc.), those who restrain them attain longevity while indulgers approach death. Logically, the most fatal indulgences stem from the nine orifices (eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, urethra, anus) and four limbs.

When the living court death, eight or nine out of ten do so through these means. People live ensnared by desires and profit, craving only fine flavors, lavish garments, sensual beauty, and music to gratify their orifices and limbs. Thus their every movement becomes frantic and compulsive, as if beyond their control—plunging unwittingly toward mortal danger entirely due to those thirteen indulgences.

Why is this so? This interrogates why people willingly seek death.

Because they excessively pursue life-nourishment. Here "life-nourishment" denotes over-cultivation. Those who forget life's essence and remain indifferent to self-preservation may attain longevity, while those obsessively nourishing life and coddling their bodies approach death. Excessive life-nourishment first depends on external things—objects that could otherwise settle the body and delight the spirit as tools for prolonging years. But those who forget their innate nature to covet material goods, over-pursuing life-nourishing objects, disrupt those thirteen gateways and thereby hasten toward death.

It is said ("having heard" humbly indicates the subtle realm of life-nourishment arts) that truly adept nourishers of life walk land without encountering rhinos or tigers, enter battlefields without armor. Rhinos find no place to gore, tigers no spot to claw, weapons no edge to strike ("encounter" means unexpected meeting. Rhinos emerge south of the Xiang River—blue-black, bull-like, single-horned, weighing a thousand jin). The adept nourisher's internal harmony prevents all illness; their external unity with things wards off calamity. Utterly free from desire and profit, they naturally dwell with auspiciousness. The world's deadliest weapons cannot compare to... (text breaks off, implying desires harm the heart-mind more than blades).

This passage explains why those who have attained the Dao remain unharmed by external forces, and how the Dao and De generate and nurture all things.

The fiercest beasts are none mightier than tigers and rhinoceroses, yet those who embody the Dao face swords without fear because nothing can harm them; they encounter wild beasts without panic because the creatures find no opening to attack. No form of danger can injure them, for they maintain a state of pure tranquility free from desire.

Why is this so? Because those who have attained the Dao possess no "mortal ground" (fatal weakness). True adepts neither indulge desires internally nor harbor intentions to harm externally, thus forgetting themselves yet perfectly preserving life. Zhuangzi said: Those who comprehend the great Dao necessarily understand the principles of things; those who understand principles necessarily know adaptability; those who know adaptability allow no external thing to harm them. Those of highest virtue cannot be burned by fire, drowned by water, harmed by cold or heat, nor injured by beasts. This doesn't mean they're literally invulnerable, but because they clearly discern safety and danger, calmly abide through fortune and misfortune, and carefully regulate advance and retreat, nothing can harm them.

The Dao (cosmic source) generates all things, while De (the Dao's function) nurtures them. The Dao is the formless essence that through movement brings forth all beings; creatures receive their life-force from the Dao, hence "the Dao gives them life." De is nature's operation that embraces and sustains all things; beings rely on De to nourish their forms, hence "De rears them."

All plants and animals originate from the Dao's creative power, depending on De's nurture to take concrete form. After taking shape, they grow and transform according to seasonal changes. Therefore all things honor the Dao and cherish De without exception. The Dao bestows pure Jing-Qi to endow beings with their nature, while De contains harmonious energy to nourish their forms. Creatures revere the Dao as they would honor a father, and cherish De as they would love a mother.

The Dao's nobility and De's importance derive not from any feudal titles (ancient royal rankings), but emerge spontaneously. Worldly honors typically stem from imperial decrees, yet the Dao begets all things like a father, while De nurtures them like a mother. All beings receive the generative grace of Dao-De, honoring them as parents would be honored - this nobility requires no artificial conferment, arising perfectly of itself.

The Dao (the Way), as the cosmic origin, nurtures all beings through eight sequential phases: bestowing life, nourishing Qi (vital energy), fostering growth, cultivating substance, assisting formation, completing cycles, maintaining harmony, and restoring damage. These eight functions constitute the fundamental operations of the Dao. Even creatures as insignificant as flying insects or crawling bugs depend on it—how then can we not revere the Dao?

The Dao creates all things yet claims no possession, accomplishes all yet claims no merit, guides all yet asserts no dominion. This represents the most profound "Xuan De" (Mystic Virtue). Here we summarize the Dao's eight nurturing virtues: if the Dao were to flaunt its creativity, it would lose its benevolence; if it boasted of its nurturing achievements, it would forfeit its virtue; if it presumed to dominate, it would violate natural law. The Dao consistently conceals its role—this deeply hidden quality is what constitutes true Xuan De.

All things under heaven share a common origin, and this origin is the "Mother of All Under Heaven" (the Dao). By understanding this primal mother, one can comprehend the essence of all beings as her children. The Dao is the nameless source, nurturing all things like a mother; the myriad things are named, concrete existences. The Dao encompasses heaven and earth, filling the cosmos—all beings rely on it for their formation. The Dao is the mother, the myriad things her offspring; the Dao is the substance, while "One" (primordial Qi) is its function. After recognizing the wondrous functions of the Dao, one must still hold fast to its substance. Only by uniting substance and function can one reach the ultimate state of stillness and emptiness.

After comprehending the patterns by which all things operate, one must still abide by the Dao's origin—this ensures a lifetime free from peril. Block the passages of sensory desire (where "Dui" refers to sensual pleasures) and shut the gates through which external stimuli invade (where "gates" denote the eyes, ears, nose, and tongue)—this prevents exhaustion of the Shen (spirit) and harm to the body. Specifically: when the eyes crave beauty, the ears indulge in music, the nose pursues fragrance, and the mouth lusts after flavors—these senses become channels for external temptations. By sealing these gates of desire, one avoids calamity and preserves peace of body and mind.

This scripture primarily explains how to attain inner peace by controlling sensory desires. It states that if one can restrain their insatiable eyes, external temptations will naturally lose their influence; if one can control their gossip-prone mouth, misfortunes will not come knocking. By severing external temptations, the source of greed is blocked; by avoiding disasters, the path of reckless action is closed. This allows one to maintain serenity and ease, free from mental toil for a lifetime.

Conversely, if one does not follow the fundamental Dao but indulges their preferences without restraint, greed will grow unchecked. If reckless behavior is left unbridled, calamities will follow one after another. This leads to a state of distress, suffering, and peril, making it difficult to escape such a fate for an entire lifetime.

The ability to perceive subtle signs is called "clarity" (ming), while maintaining a gentle and yielding posture is called "strength" (qiang). This means preventing disorder before it arises and addressing chaos before it takes form. When disorder first emerges, its signs are minute—recognizing these signs clearly is true "clarity." Understanding the method to restrain desires and close the door to reckless action means discerning matters while they are still small. Dissolving the sharp edges of desire, untangling the confusion of reckless action, and preserving a gentle and yielding state ensure that external things cannot harm you—this is true "strength." The ability to foresee the subtle ensures that events will not confound you—this is true "clarity."

When applying the light of wisdom, one must ultimately return to the clarity of the original mind. "Light" refers to the illumination of wisdom, which arises externally and often fluctuates when projected outward—this is its function in engaging with the world. "Clarity" refers to the insight of innate wisdom, which resides within and remains still when reflected inward—this is the foundation of self-cultivation. When wisdom extends outward, it responds to worldly affairs; when it turns inward, it comprehends principles and realizes the Dao. Hence, the text advises to "return to clarity," reemphasizing the principle of perceiving the subtle and maintaining gentleness and humility, guiding one to cease external seeking and return to the original mind.

Not leaving behind misfortunes for oneself is called following the constant Dao. If one can achieve clarity in both principle and practice, unifying essence and function, and refrain from driving wisdom outward in pursuit but instead preserve its inward illumination, returning to the root before desires arise, then one will not invite misfortune upon oneself. This is the wisdom of silently applying the eternal Dao.

Finally, the text states: If I, an upright and solitary person, were to grasp these principles and walk the great path, my greatest fear would be straying from the right way. "Upright" (jie) conveys a sense of solitary integrity, lamenting how the present age no longer follows the ancient Dao. The so-called "great path" (dadao) is the way of Wuwei (non-action), purity, utmost impartiality, and absolute integrity.

This passage elucidates how rulers should govern in accordance with the Dao. Laozi posits that governance should be simple and natural, guiding people toward tranquility and peace. When policies become overly complex and disruptive, they lead the populace toward greed and chaos. A ruler's greatest vigilance should be directed toward ensuring their governance aligns with the principles of the Dao.

The Great Dao is inherently broad and level ("yi" denotes smoothness), like a thoroughfare extending in all directions ("heng qu"). Yet people often prefer shortcuts, craving quick results only to lose their way on treacherous paths. Deeply concerned by this, Laozi emphasizes the need for caution in issuing decrees to prevent leading people astray.

The scripture then enumerates seven governance failures that violate the Dao: excessively ornate palaces ("chao shen chu"); neglected and overgrown fields ("tian shen wu"); empty granaries while wearing lavish silks ("fu wen cai" refers to extravagant attire); carrying sharp swords; indulging in extravagant feasts; and hoarding excessive wealth. These all signify a ruler's deviation from the Dao.

Han Feizi explains that a nation's political culture can be discerned through these manifestations: the more lavish the palaces, the more the ruler indulges in pleasure; the more barren the fields, the more labor is misallocated from farming; the emptier the granaries, the more agriculture is neglected; the more ornate the clothing, the greater the pursuit of luxury; the prevalence of swords indicates militarism; extravagant dining reveals neglect of governance; and hoarded wealth points to excessive taxation. As Confucius remarked, "How can rulers be wealthy when their people are impoverished?" Endlessly exploiting the people and exhausting their resources is utterly contrary to the way of sages.

Finally, these seven practices are described as employing manipulative statecraft ("quan") that violates natural principles to secretly exploit the people—hence termed "dao" (banditry). To boast about such banditry ("dao kua") is complete deviation from the Dao. When Laozi warns "wei shi shi wei" (what most demands vigilance is misguided governance), this is precisely what he means.

Those who are adept at using the Dao to cultivate themselves and govern a state must first secure the root before developing the branches. Just as a tree with deep roots will naturally flourish with luxuriant foliage, such foundations cannot be easily uprooted or overturned.

Those who skillfully apply the Dao to cherish the people will find the populace sincerely returning to them without dispersing; those who skillfully use the Dao to embrace their vital Qi (referring to preserving Jing, Qi, and Shen in cultivation) will maintain spiritual wholeness without dissipation. Establishments built upon such principles can be perpetuated through generations of ancestral worship without interruption.

Cultivation of the Dao progresses through five levels: refining the self leads to pure Virtue (De); harmonizing the family allows Virtue to overflow; governing the village enables Virtue to endure; ordering the state makes Virtue abundant; and ruling the world spreads Virtue universally. These stages begin with personal cultivation and gradually expand to encompass all under heaven.

Specifically: To cultivate the body, one must purify the heart and reduce desires, nourishing Qi and calming the spirit (Shen). To harmonize the family requires parental kindness and filial piety, with brothers living in harmony. Governing a village demands honoring the elderly and nurturing the young while educating the people. Ordering a state necessitates flourishing rituals and music, with officials fulfilling their duties competently. Ruling the world requires governing through non-action (Wuwei), achieving universal harmony.

Ultimately, one should reflect upon oneself using the sage's standards: compare your self-cultivation with the sage's way of refining the body; measure your family against the sage's way of harmonizing households; assess your village by the sage's principles of local governance; evaluate your state against the sage's methods of ordering nations; and examine the world through the sage's vision of universal rule. Only then can one truly understand whether they have genuinely embodied the spirit of the Dao.

Here Laozi shares his wisdom on observing the principles of governance. He states: If we apply the methods by which ancient sage-kings governed their states to our contemporary people, and find the people can live in peace and contentment, then the nation's De (Virtue/Power) will flourish. When we measure today's populace against the sage-kings' way of ruling the world, if the people can maintain a desireless state and return to original simplicity, such De will spread throughout the land.

Someone asked Laozi: "How do you understand the principles of a nation's rise and fall?" Laozi replied: "I comprehend this through observing and contemplating the five aspects mentioned above (referring to the governing principles discussed earlier)." This aligns with the Yi Jing's teaching: "One need not leave the door to know the world's affairs," and "By observing one's own life, one understands the people's condition."

The passage concludes: Those who skillfully use the Dao to establish themselves and govern states, spreading De's blessings to all under heaven, must possess profound moral cultivation. This leads us to the upcoming discussion on "the depth of accumulated De" (referring to the profound inner virtue cultivated by practitioners).

(Note: The "five aspects" likely refer to five governing principles mentioned earlier though not detailed here; "the depth of accumulated De" is a key Daoist concept denoting the practitioner's deeply accumulated inner virtue.)