《道德真經藏室纂微篇》Vol. 8

This passage comes from the commentary on the "Chapter on Embracing Profound Virtue" in the Dao De Jing by Song Dynasty Daoist Chen Jingyuan. It primarily uses the innocent state of an infant as a metaphor for the realm of one who has attained the Dao.

"Embracing Profound Virtue" (Han De Zhi Hou) means internally containing deep virtue. A true Dao-realized person (zhiren) possesses a pure heart and profound virtue, with emotions returning to their original nature—tranquil within and free from desires, appearing simple and unknowing on the surface, much like a newborn infant. The infant is used as a metaphor here because it embodies the purest state of harmony.

The text states that "poisonous insects do not sting, fierce beasts do not claw, and birds of prey do not strike"—such harmful creatures cannot harm one who has attained the Dao. Just as an infant is innocent and free of harmful intentions, their spirit remains whole, and external things cannot harm them. Yan Junping explains that although infants possess cognitive abilities, they do not display them; though perceptive, they do not show off; though capable of action, they do not act recklessly. What appears clumsy is actually skillful. This state is in complete alignment with the Dao—seemingly wuwei (non-action), yet accomplishing all things.

The Dao-realized person resembles an infant: their sinews and bones are soft, yet their grip is firm (symbolizing inner strength); they do not understand the affairs of men and women, yet their genitals naturally stir (symbolizing abundant innate jing-qi). This demonstrates the vigorous vitality of an infant—though not yet driven by desires, their innate qi flows naturally. Similarly, the Dao-realized person maintains inner emptiness and stillness, allowing qi to circulate freely without interference from desires.

The term "峻作" (junzuo) in ancient versions is written as "全作" (quanzuo), which Wang Bi interprets as "growth," meaning nothing external can harm their body, allowing them to remain whole. The Shangqing (Highest Clarity) scriptures also state that human life....

This scripture elucidates the profound connection between the human body and the primordial Qi of heaven and earth, emphasizing the vital importance of maintaining harmonious states.

Humans form their Shen (spirit) and physical body by absorbing the Qi of heaven and earth, transforming the primordial One Qi (the original prenatal energy) into bodily fluids and Jing (essence). If the Qi of heaven weakens, the spirit scatters; if the Qi of earth diminishes, the body falls ill; if primordial Qi is depleted, life itself declines. Thus, ancient practitioners developed the method of "Emperor One Returning to the Origin" (a Neidan technique guiding Qi circulation), reversing the flow of breath to circulate through the meridians and nourish the Niwan Palace (a key energy center at the crown of the head). When the brain’s Jing is abundant, consciousness is complete; complete consciousness ensures a sound body; a sound body harmonizes all internal vessels, making it impervious to external pathogenic influences. At this stage, the marrow solidifies into strong bones, the intestines transform into supple sinews, and body and mind attain purity—thus reaching the realm of longevity.

Just as an infant can cry all day without growing hoarse, this is because they maintain the purest state of natural harmony. The breathing of a realized Daoist reaches down to the heels (referring to the deep, fetal respiration state), and their throat never grows rough—this is the manifestation of perfect harmony. To understand harmony is to grasp the eternal law; to comprehend the eternal law is true wisdom. Infants preserve their innate purity through harmony, while sages treasure harmony and uphold it as the constant Dao.

Du Guangting (a renowned Tang Dynasty Daoist) explained: When a person’s body and mind are harmonious, their De (virtue) becomes abundant and aligns with the true Dao; when a nation is harmonious, its teachings spread widely, ensuring enduring prosperity; harmony in human interactions aligns with ritual propriety, and harmony in the military ensures victory. The significance of harmony is truly immense! Those who know harmony and understand the constant Dao naturally attain perfect virtue.

Forcibly prolonging life invites calamity; manipulating Qi with cunning is an act of aggression. Human innate endowment is predetermined—attempting to unnaturally extend it against the laws of nature inevitably invites misfortune. Zhuangzi taught that one should follow nature rather than artificially augment it. The mind creates distinctions, but Qi itself has no good or bad—left to its natural course, it remains pliant, but forced by the intellect, it turns violent. Understand that the will can influence Qi, and Qi can influence the will. Zhuangzi warns against imposing subjective intentions, advocating instead for yielding to Qi’s natural flow. Those who deliberately cultivate life or forcefully direct Qi have already strayed from the great Dao.

When things reach their peak, they begin to decline; a domineering mindset inevitably leads to violent outcomes. The Dao inherently values softness and yielding—to insist on pursuing strength is to defy the Dao. Thus, Laozi admonishes: Actions that go against the Dao should be stopped early.

Those who truly comprehend the profound Dao (the Way) do not indulge in empty talk, while those who constantly discourse on Dao and De (Virtue/Power) demonstrate their lack of genuine understanding. Authentic Dao-realization emphasizes inner experience over verbal debate, valuing practical cultivation rather than idle discussion. Those who rely on clever rhetoric to expound on mystical concepts often lose sight of Dao's fundamental truth.

Just as the gourmet Yi Ya could distinguish the Five Flavors, and the musician Shi Kuang could discern the Five Tones, such refined perception cannot be conveyed through words. If even tastes and sounds defy description, how much more so the profound Dao? In the Zhuangzi's "Northern Journey of Knowledge," three inquiries about Dao receive no verbal answer regarding the state of Wuwei (non-action). The Western Ascension Scripture similarly states: "The Dao operates naturally—practitioners realize it through experience, while listeners can only repeat hearsay." Those who truly understand remain silent, while the verbose reveal their ignorance.

(Explanation of "blocking the openings and closing the gates": Literally meaning sealing the sensory passages, this refers to ceasing outward pursuits. Unlike Chapter 52 which discusses purification practice, here it emphasizes Dao's formless nature—unseeable by eyes and indescribable by mouth. Thus, Dao-realized individuals naturally restrain their senses without deliberate effort.)

(Explanation of "blunting sharpness and untangling complications": While Chapter 4 describes Dao's function, here we see the practitioner's approach. Those united with heavenly Dao possess neither aggressive sharpness nor entangled thoughts, harmonizing their radiance while blending with worldly dust. This state is called "mysterious unity"—complete integration with Dao.)

(Supplementary note: The mentioned Yan Junping was a Han dynasty Daoist scholar, Yi Ya a renowned Spring and Autumn period chef, and Shi Kuang a Jin state musician—all representing pinnacle practitioners whose skills transcended verbal explanation. These analogies illustrate how supreme realization surpasses linguistic expression.)

The way of those who have attained the Dao is extraordinary: when manifest in the world, they share the root with all things; when withdrawn, they merge with emptiness as one. Thus their speech or silence follows the natural course, responding to changes like the sun's rising and setting—this is what we call the state of "mysterious unity" (referring to the supreme state of oneness with the Dao).

Precisely because of this, ordinary standards cannot measure them: one can neither deliberately draw close nor intentionally distance oneself, neither tempt them with gain nor threaten them with harm, neither elevate nor demean them. This is the most precious character in the world.

They associate with the great Dao without flattery, and though the world praises them, they remain free of pride—thus they cannot be moved by intimacy. They interact with material things without contempt, and though the world criticizes them, they do not despair—thus they cannot be influenced by distance. Detached and desireless, content with their lot and ever satisfied, they are impervious to the lure of profit. When in lowly positions, they feel no disgrace; when facing ugliness, they do not contend—thus harm finds no way to afflict them. Titles and emoluments cannot taint them; power and influence cannot shake them—how then could they be bought with honor? In adversity, they do not submit; in poverty, they find greater peace—how then could they be demeaned with lowliness?

Those who have attained the Dao embody these six qualities: they are neither glorified by prominence nor shamed by hardship, free from heaven's wrath and human resentment, unburdened by external things, and even spirits and ghosts cannot reproach them. Thus they become the world's most precious treasure.

(The same principle applies to governing a state.) Conventional decrees are used to administer a country, and stratagems are employed to wage war, but to win the hearts of the people under heaven, only clarity and non-action (Wuwei) will suffice. Here, "administration" refers to governance and education. Rulers who act forcefully govern with harsh decrees—though the people dare not break the laws, they grow increasingly impoverished. Hegemonic rulers wage war with cunning schemes—though the state does not perish, disorder multiplies without end. Truly enlightened rulers understand: to establish lasting foundations, one must govern through non-action. As Chapter 48 of the Daode Jing states: "To govern the world through constant non-action—if one stirs up affairs, one will lose the world." This is Laozi's essential teaching on achieving peaceful governance.

(The Heshang Gong version here writes "correctness" instead of "administration.")

Laozi asks and answers himself: How do I know the principles of heaven's way and human affairs? It becomes clear from reality—just observe the world today, where more prohibitions only make the people poorer. What are called "taboos" refer to all manner of prohibitions. When rulers cannot govern through non-action but instead constrain the people with harsh decrees... (the text continues elaborating on the harms of excessive governance).

When the state's prohibitions and legal nets become excessively intricate and stringent, the people grow fearful of accidental transgressions, unsure where to place their hands and feet. Constantly preoccupied with avoiding taboos, they dare not act freely, resulting in the loss of livelihood and increasing poverty.

When cunning stratagems prevail among the populace, the nation descends into chaos. Here, "sharp tools" refers to political machinations. If the ruler fails to maintain serene non-action (Wuwei) but instead indulges in clever schemes and manipulations, with deception flowing both upward and downward, the people will inevitably emulate such behavior, resorting to expedient tricks for survival while harboring ill intentions, leading to progressive social disorder.

When ingenious crafts flourish among the people, bizarre objects proliferate endlessly. "Crafty skills" denotes the artisans' extravagant techniques. Should the ruler abandon tranquil non-action in favor of delighting in clever contraptions and luxurious indulgences, the masses will venerate elaborate ornamentation, become obsessed with gold and jade curios, and witness an inundation of rare treasures. Ancient texts record: when the people possess too much cunning, heretical practices will sprout.

The more numerous and severe the laws become, the more thieves and bandits multiply. Here "laws and ordinances" encompass both punishments and indoctrination. When rulers cannot restrain their desires but instead establish authority through harsh penalties, though the people may temporarily avoid crime, when basic needs go unmet, petty theft arises among the lesser folk while greater ones may even usurp state power. The Heshang Gong version states: "When legal objects proliferate conspicuously" (when statutes and regulations become overly elaborate).

Therefore the Sage declares (Laozi dares not be dogmatic, hence quoting the Sage's words. Some believe Laozi served as Zhou dynasty Archivist, having studied ancient texts including the Three Mound Classics, hence his authoritative citations):

"I (the governing ruler speaking) follow natural spontaneity without arbitrary action, and the people transform themselves; I remain non-interfering, and the people prosper naturally; I cherish tranquility, and the people become upright; I am free from desires, and the people return to simplicity." Specifically: when the ruler follows the Dao (the Way) without interference, the people settle peacefully and customs naturally refine; when the ruler avoids exhausting the people's resources and practices frugal governance, households naturally prosper; when the ruler maintains quiet dignity and serene detachment, the people sense cosmic harmony and folkways become pure; when the ruler purifies the heart and eliminates ostentation, the people cease competitive displays and return to innate simplicity. Should the ruler act arbitrarily while harboring numerous desires, yet expect the people to prosper and live long—this can never be achieved.

Zhuangzi states: Heaven and Earth possess supreme beauty yet never speak of it; the four seasons follow clear rhythms yet never discuss them; all things have principles of growth yet never explain them. The Sage emulates Heaven-and-Earth's beauty and comprehends the principles of all things. Thus those who attain the Dao do not act arbitrarily, and great Sages do not manufacture—this is the insight gained from observing Heaven and Earth. The Heshang Gong version additionally notes "I am without emotions and the people naturally become pure" with commentary: Those who cultivate the Dao... [original text fragmentary here]

The best way to govern a state and educate the people is for rulers to maintain inner purity, abandoning the six sensory desires (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), so the populace will naturally follow suit in attaining tranquility. The supreme method of governance is "non-interference" (wuwei), for by not acting arbitrarily, policies can remain broad and inclusive.

When governance appears muddled and indistinct ("mengmeng"), the people retain their simple nature ("chunchun"). The Tang Dynasty's "Kaiyuan Imperial Commentary" explains that "mengmeng" refers to rulers who refrain from deliberate action and maintain lenient policies, while "chunchun" describes the people's simple and honest state. This means that sovereigns practicing non-action govern with magnanimity, allowing all things to develop naturally without harsh or oppressive decrees. Consequently, customs remain pure, people dwell in serenity, and social harmony grows increasingly profound. Ancient texts write this as "chunchun," while Wang Bi's version records it as "dunchun."

Conversely, when governance becomes overly meticulous ("chacha"), the people turn cunning and deficient ("queque"). The "Kaiyuan Imperial Commentary" notes that "chacha" describes rulers who act deliberately with strict policies, while "queque" portrays a state of social decline and dispersion. This shows that rulers who govern through forceful action impose harsh laws to constrain the people. Yet the more precise the laws become, the more thieves and bandits emerge, leading to societal decay and population dispersal. People frequently violate prohibitions and flee in fear, causing moral standards to deteriorate daily.

Misfortune often resides where blessings dwell; blessings frequently conceal the seeds of misfortune. Who can perceive the ultimate principle governing this? "Reside" means to depend upon, while "conceal" means to lie hidden. Governance that appears muddled may seem negligent to the world, yet the people find true peace; governance that appears meticulous may seem competent to the world, yet the people feel genuine anxiety. What the world calls misfortune inspires universal fear, but through this fear comes caution, from which blessings emerge. What the world calls blessings inspires universal joy, but through this joy comes pride, within which misfortune lurks.

Misfortune and blessings depend on each other—none know their ultimate course. Just as heaven and earth have their waxing and waning, and the sun and moon their fullness and waning, this is the principle of mutual dependence. Misfortune hides within blessings—possessing blessings yet growing prideful invites misfortune; blessings lie concealed within misfortune—encountering misfortune yet remaining cautious yields blessings. This is the inevitable pattern of the world. Therefore, rulers who follow the Dao maintain serene minds, follow nature's course, neither coveting wealth nor clinging to riches, neither delighting in longevity nor grieving premature death, neither glorifying prominence nor shaming poverty. Where, then, could misfortune or blessings find footing?

Does the transformation between misfortune and blessing lack principles? How could their mutual transformation occur without principles? The key lies in rulers following the Dao governing through non-action, refraining from deliberate deeds, forgetting distinctions between self and external things—only then can they grasp the true path. For when one deliberately pursues the true path, the path becomes artifice; when one deliberately practices goodness, goodness becomes monstrous. The true path may turn into artifice; goodness may transform into monstrosity.

The minds of common people vary greatly, yet a ruler who embodies the Dao (the Way) treats them like a mirror—neither actively accommodating nor deliberately rejecting, reflecting truthfully without retaining traces, thus capable of responding to all things without suffering harm.

If one forcibly uses the standard of "correctness" to rectify what is "incorrect," this so-called "correctness" itself becomes incorrect, instead giving rise to all manner of deceit and fraud (hence the Daodejing says, "Use the unexpected in warfare"). Similarly, using the standard of "goodness" to correct what is "not good," this "goodness" itself becomes not good, instead provoking strange and illusory phenomena (hence the term "supernatural"). If things are allowed to develop naturally, letting them return to correctness and goodness on their own, then misfortune and fortune will not become entangled with each other.

People have been lost in delusion for a long time. Superficial worldly individuals cannot naturally return to correctness and goodness, but instead feign sincerity as "correctness" and violate their true nature as "goodness," ultimately becoming "unexpected" and "supernatural," deeply confused without realizing it—this phenomenon has persisted for ages. The Xisheng Jing states: "Those who truly follow the correct Dao do not deliberately pursue correctness; correctness naturally returns to them. They do not accept evil Qi (vital energy), and evil Qi dissipates on its own." This means the Dao follows nature, and by going with the flow, one receives the Dao's assistance.

Thus, the sage (one who has attained the Dao), though upright in conduct, does not use this uprightness to harm others. A ruler who embodies the Dao is personally upright, allowing the people to naturally awaken, rather than forcibly imposing their own standards on others, causing the people to lose their inherent nature.

They maintain personal integrity without harshly condemning others for their impurities. A ruler who embodies the Dao is inherently pure, allowing the people to be naturally transformed, not using their own purity to belittle others' flaws, but simply inspiring the people to cleanse themselves of impurities. (Ancient texts write, "Integrity without sharpness," meaning the sage maintains personal integrity without harming others.)

They are straightforward but do not flaunt it. A ruler who embodies the Dao is innately honest and principled, yet does not use their straightforwardness to forcibly change others, just as the straightest thing may appear bent.

They are wise and enlightened but do not show off. A ruler who embodies the Dao has a mind as clear as a mirror yet knows to conceal their wisdom, not using their formidable intellect to overwhelm others, lest their spirits collapse. All of these belong to the broad and tolerant way of governance, not the harsh and rigid methods of rule.

In governing the people and revering the Dao of Heaven, the most important principle is "restraint" (frugality and cherishing). Worldly individuals dissipate their Shen (spirit), greedily seeking yet never satisfied; the sage, however, treasures their Shen, conserves their resources, appearing frugal yet truly abundant. Thus, those who govern the people...

Governing a state requires following natural principles (Wuwei), maintaining purity and simplicity while reducing burdens on the people. When granaries are full, the people naturally understand propriety, and can thereby nurture their Jing (essence) and revere the Shen (spirit). During rituals, offerings remain pure and abundant, fostering harmony between humans and deities. Thus the essential principle lies in understanding moderation.

Understanding moderation means early adherence to the Dao. By practicing frugality without extravagance, maintaining simplicity while cherishing one's vital energy, one aligns with the Dao. Sages follow the Dao consistently before fortune or misfortune manifests—this is called "early return" (ancient texts write it as "early restoration").

Early adherence to the Dao means accumulating De (virtue/power) continuously. Conserving both the people's resources and one's vital energy to honor heaven constitutes one form of virtue; additionally, early alignment with the Dao brings harmony between humans and deities—thus representing dual accumulation of virtue.

Those who doubly accumulate virtue face no insurmountable obstacles. When such profoundly virtuous individuals govern, all regions submit willingly, with no one beyond their influence.

When nothing remains unconquerable, one reaches unfathomable depth. All things return to transformation, with the power of Dao and De becoming boundless—hence its unfathomable nature.

Reaching this unfathomable state enables one to preserve the nation. Those with inexhaustible virtue invariably put personal gain last yet end up foremost; appearing detached yet enduring longest. People willingly support them without weariness, naturally establishing them as rulers. Like Master Gengsang who dwelled three years at Mount Yu's base—local customs became pure, with consecutive harvests. People whispered: "At first we found Gengsang strange, but now see short-term insignificance yields long-term boundless benefit. Is this not a sage? Why not honor him with sacrifices?" This exemplifies how unfathomable virtue preserves states.

The foundation of preserving a state lies in dual virtue accumulation. Virtue nourishes the people; when people prosper, the state's blessings endure. This is the deeply rooted Dao of lasting vision.

Roots sustain trees; stems support blossoms. Fruit growers know deep roots make stems secure—even gales cannot uproot them or scatter fruit. Deep roots bring lush foliage; firm stems retain blossoms—this is the way of longevity. Similarly, virtue-accumulating rulers govern affairs, serve heaven, enrich nations and nurture people.

This passage elucidates the principles of governing a state and cultivating the self, with its core lying in "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and "cultivating purity and tranquility."

Regarding statecraft, it is like cooking small fish—governing a large country requires mastering the right intensity. If you stir the fish too frequently, the flesh will crumble; similarly, excessive interference in people's lives leads to social chaos. The sage ruler governs the world through the Dao, maintaining clear and enlightened governance, allowing the people to live in peace and prosperity naturally—so much so that even ghosts and spirits find no occasion to manifest their powers. This does not mean that ghosts and spirits do not exist or have lost their potency, but rather that societal harmony leaves them no opportunity to display their might and harm the people.

Concerning self-cultivation, Daoist practitioners must understand how to nurture their spirit (Shen), stabilize their body, accumulate vital energy (Qi), and maintain inner harmony. They must secure the "Three Passes" (referring to three crucial areas of the body), eliminate distracting thoughts, so that all divine beings submit to them, their actions naturally become perfect, their transformations boundless, and their lifespan prolonged. The cultivator takes root in the realm of nothingness, walking side by side with the Nine Elders and Seven Primes (referring to Daoist deities).

The text cites the Western Ascension Scripture (Xisheng Jing): "Those who truly cultivate the Dao will naturally receive the assistance of celestial principles. They need not make offerings to ghosts and spirits, for these beings will automatically withdraw." Here, "spirit" refers to the capacity for miraculous transformations. When sages govern the world through the Dao of non-action and purity, Yin and Yang harmonize, winds and rains come in due season, all things grow naturally, the people live in contentment, and ghosts and spirits have no occasion to manifest their powers or cause disturbances.

This passage explains the principle that when "sages and spirits" do not harm each other, their virtues (De) naturally merge and interact. Heshang Gong (a renowned Daoist scholar of the Eastern Han dynasty) elucidates: When humans remain unharmed, the yang realm (human world) is well-governed; when ghosts remain unharmed, the yin realm (spirit world) remains peaceful. Thus humans preserve their life essence (Xingming), while spirits nurture their spiritual essence (Shen), allowing their respective virtues to naturally intermingle. Just as a ruler who cultivates his spirit will be protected by that spirit—this is the meaning of "virtues merging and returning to one another."

Du Guangting (a Tang dynasty Daoist master) further elaborates: The people are the foundation of the state—when the foundation is stable, the state is at peace; humans are the hosts of spirits—when the host is settled, spirits can enjoy offerings. When sages govern through the Dao (the Way), they neither harm the people nor provoke ghosts and spirits, who in turn refrain from harming all beings. Through this harmonious coexistence, the virtues of both realms naturally intertwine.

The text then employs the metaphor of large and small states: Just as rivers and seas become kings of all waterways by remaining low-lying, so too must great nations maintain humility to attract the allegiance of lesser states. The feminine (Yin) principle often overcomes the masculine (Yang) through stillness—if a great nation embodies this yielding, tranquil feminine virtue, it can inspire allegiance from powerful states. This demonstrates the ultimate efficacy of serenity, humility, and non-greed.

Thus when a great nation treats smaller states with humble respect, it wins their genuine allegiance. Yan Junping (a Western Han Daoist scholar) states: Enlightened rulers governing large nations bestow favors without seeking repayment, maintaining noble status yet conducting themselves with humility. They embrace feudal lords without bullying them, influencing through virtue rather than force. By lowering themselves to connect with the people, establishing trust through loyalty and integrity, ceding territory to attract talent, developing agriculture to accumulate wealth, forming alliances against contingencies, opening granaries to aid the poor, promoting recluses without claiming credit, and adhering to the Wuwei (non-action) path of gentle simplicity—they naturally inspire heartfelt submission from all vassal states.

Even those who are greedy and despicable, cruel and vicious, arrogant and domestically oppressive can be transformed through awe-inspiring virtue (De). When calmed, they will reflect on themselves, act with caution, correct their errors, and start anew. They may even cede territory, offer precious treasures, willingly entrust their lives to you, and request to become your vassal state or tributary servant.

A small state that humbly serves a larger one will earn the latter’s respect. Though weak, it does not demean itself for its smallness, so there is nothing it cannot govern. By maintaining a respectful and cautious demeanor, free from arrogance, neighboring states will willingly assist it. In this way, such a small state may even gain the authority of a great power.

Mencius said that only the benevolent can, as a great state, humbly serve a small one—just as Tang of Shang served the Earl of Ge, or King Wen of Zhou served the Kunyi. Only the wise can, as a small state, reverently serve a great one—just as King Tai of Zhou served the Xunyu, or King Goujian of Yue served Wu. Serving the small while being great aligns with the principles of Heaven (Tianli); serving the great while being small reveres the will of Heaven (Tianyi). Those who align with Heaven’s principles can preserve the world; those who revere Heaven’s will can preserve their state.

The Book of Songs states: "By fearing the majesty of Heaven, peace is preserved." This line from the Hymns of Zhou praises King Cheng of Zhou for his awe of Heaven’s might, which stabilized the realm.

Yan Junping remarked that when in a weak position, one should act in accordance with the Dao and virtue (De), avoiding displays of force. Be sincere and simple, honor agriculture, and foster harmony between ruler and subjects, as close as father and son. The ruler is like the heart, the people like the body—united in spirit (Shen), they can live and die together.

Even if the ruler of a great state commands vast armies and wields overwhelming power, his heart as fierce as a starving tiger and his anger as violent as a gushing spring, if we meet him with sincerity and the attitude of non-action (Wuwei), he will be moved. His fury will dissipate, calamity will shift, and reconciliation will be achieved.

Thus, humility is sometimes a means to gain, and sometimes the gain itself. "To take by humility" refers to the superior winning hearts through modesty; "to take through humility" refers to the inferior gaining trust through reverence. This is how both sides mutually obtain through righteousness.

The desires of a great state are nothing more than annexation and domination. Its ruler should uphold humility, honor ritual propriety, cultivate himself, and treat smaller states with deference.

Where would a great state (here referring to major powers) harbor excessive desires to annex smaller states or enslave their people? A truly great state should consistently uphold the principles of humility and respect—this is the constant Dao. Smaller states merely wish to serve greater ones to preserve themselves.

The rulers of these smaller states maintain loyalty and compliance, observing proper rites, cultivating themselves while submitting to greater powers. They do not flatter with ulterior motives, but simply hold to their intention of self-preservation, steadfastly maintaining their proper De (Virtue/Power). Thus both great and small states can fulfill their respective aspirations, which is why greater states should take the initiative to lower their posture.

The "two parties" mentioned here refer precisely to great and small states. Regardless of size, all states should know contentment and maintain their proper roles, respecting each other without encroachment. It resembles Laozi's ideal state: people live peacefully, neighboring states remain visible to each other, the sounds of chickens and dogs can be heard across borders, yet people never need to visit one another until old age and death. The gentle submission of smaller states is the norm of ritual propriety, while the humility of greater states represents the more comprehensive Dao. Emphasizing that great states should remain humble serves as profound admonition to rulers, ensuring long-term stability when handling interstate relations with cautious reverence.

(The humility of great states contains the profound mystery of the Dao, hence the following discussion of "Dao" as the source of all things.)

"Dao" is the most profound origin of all things. "Profound" here implies concealment, warmth, and containment. Dao embraces everything—all things begin from it as the deepest, most mysterious root, with nothing able to escape its principles. The Western Ascension Scripture states: The Dao is unfathomably deep, an abyss of emptiness. This means Dao resembles the gathering place of all things—nothing exists beyond its embrace. Whether the lofty heavens, solid earth, illuminating sun and moon, or multitudes of plants and animals, all rely on Dao's nourishment, warmly sheltered beneath its protection.

Dao is the treasure of virtuous people (referring to those of superior capacity). Those of superior capacity diligently cultivate upon hearing the Great Dao, refining both form and Shen (spirit), ultimately achieving transcendence and ascension. They firmly guard this mysterious root as their eternal treasure. Meanwhile, the non-virtuous (those of inferior capacity) laugh at the Dao upon hearing it—only when they violate morality and encounter calamity do they seek to return to the proper path, at which point they too must rely on Dao's protective embrace.

Graceful speech can win respect; good deeds can transform others. This explains how the non-virtuous may still receive Dao's protection. Sweet words encounter no obstacles—even the cunning minds of marketplace commoners can be harmonized and embraced by the Great Dao.

This passage primarily discusses how to use the Dao to transform those lacking virtue, as well as the fundamental methods for governing the world.

It first observes that even hypocrites understand how to use pleasing words and proper conduct to win people's favor—how much more should this be true for those who genuinely possess the Dao. As for those lacking virtue, they should not be lightly abandoned, for with proper guidance, they too can be reformed.

The text then explains the significance of ancient institutions like the Son of Heaven (Tianzi) and the Three Dukes (the highest ministerial positions of Grand Commandant, Minister over the Masses, and Minister of Works): Heaven entrusted the responsibility of transforming people to the ruler, who in turn established the Three Dukes to assist in fulfilling this mission. The Son of Heaven governs the myriad people as Heaven's representative, while the Three Dukes' duty is to help regulate Yin-Yang and educate the populace.

Finally, a revealing comparison is made: rather than presenting rulers with precious jade bi discs (large ceremonial discs requiring both hands to hold) or teams of four horses (the highest ritual gift between feudal lords), it would be better to offer the governing principle of "Wuwei and clarity-quietness." Such lavish gifts only encourage extravagance, far less valuable than using the Dao's transformative power to reform those lacking virtue. When moral education permeates the world, those without virtue will naturally abandon wrongdoing and turn toward goodness.

The passage emphasizes that moral transformation surpasses material gifts, and that rulers should govern according to the Daoist principles of "Wuwei and clarity-quietness," subtly influencing people through silent example rather than relying on external ritual forms.

This passage elucidates the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." It begins by drawing a contrast: even scholars pursuing knowledge value time more than precious jade, let alone rulers who have attained the Dao. The ancients treasured the Great Dao precisely because it represents the supreme state of serene non-action.

The text explains that while the Dao is subtle and elusive, its realization enables both self-cultivation and benefiting the world. True Dao attainers need no forced pursuit—they naturally receive its gifts ("obtain without seeking"). Even occasional deviations from the Dao can be rectified by correcting mistakes and returning to the original heart of tranquil non-action, thereby averting misfortune. Citing Yan Junping's commentary, it emphasizes that Dao masters appear to act while actually following nature's flow.

The profound meaning of "acting through non-action, handling affairs through non-interference, savoring the flavorless" is then unpacked: the perfected person (zhenren) doesn't force action but lets all things develop naturally; doesn't coercively manage affairs but follows their natural course; doesn't cling to flavors but tastes the Dao's apparent blandness. This maintains clarity of mind, bodily vigor, and spiritual abundance. "Savoring the flavorless" specifically means transcending worldly distinctions of right/wrong and beauty/ugliness to perceive the Dao's seemingly plain yet profoundly meaningful essence.

The concluding reference to "repaying resentment with virtue (De)" echoes the earlier "great and small, much and little" (indicating non-attachment to gain/loss), embodying the Daoist attitude of tolerant magnanimity. Layer by layer, the text reveals the wisdom of governing through non-action and how aligning with nature achieves harmony in both personal cultivation and world peace.

Human endeavors vary in scale, and worldly affairs differ in quantity. Whether engaging in tasks or handling matters, both inevitably harm one's innate nature and violate the natural Dao (the Way). Damaging innate nature gives rise to resentment, while violating the natural order breeds malice. When both resentment and malice emerge, they become the root of chaos.

Only the perfected person (one of supreme cultivation) who has attained the Dao can embody wuwei (non-action), create no unnecessary affairs, and seek no sensory pleasures. Their inner stillness resembles cold ashes, and their physical detachment is like withered wood. Even when faced with deliberate resentment from others, they dissolve it through the supreme virtue (De) of non-intentionality. Someone might ask: If we repay resentment with virtue, then how should we repay those who are virtuous? The answer is: All worldly affairs—whether great or small, many or few, involving gratitude or grievance—are fundamentally the same when met with the supreme virtue of non-intentionality.

Lu Xisheng (a Tang Dynasty Daoist) remarked: Those who comprehend the great Dao possess wisdom of unfathomable depth. Though they appear to act in responding to worldly matters, their actions are rooted in wuwei; though they seem engaged in handling affairs, their approach is fundamentally without creating affairs; though they appear to experience the flavors of all things, their perception is essentially without attachment to taste. Though their realm is vast, its essence is supremely simple; though their influence is wide, its core is profoundly subtle. The key lies in maintaining serenity and purity, undisturbed by external things. Only then can one be free of desire and selfishness. Favors accumulate from selfishness, while resentment sprouts from favors. Only sages can be without selfish desires; without selfish desires, there are no personal favors, and without personal favors, there are no personal grievances. Ordinary people are the opposite—because they harbor selfish desires, they generate cycles of gratitude and resentment. Yet the sage dissolves the world's resentment through virtue and transforms the unvirtuous through kindness. Thus, the people live in harmony, and no resentment exists between high and low. Confucius said, "When virtue pervades all under heaven, no resentment arises"—how could a sage bear resentment toward anything?

To address difficulties, begin with what is easy; to accomplish great deeds, start with what is small. The relationship between difficulty and ease, greatness and smallness, mirrors the earlier discussion of scale and quantity. Right and wrong, beauty and ugliness, resentment and gratitude—all develop gradually from small beginnings. None fail to start as something easy that eventually becomes difficult, or as something minor that ultimately grows significant. If one plans while matters are still easy, they will never become difficult; if one attends to affairs while they are still small, they will never grow unmanageable. But if one waits until difficulties have arisen to plan, or until matters have become overwhelming to act, resentment will deepen, chaos will accumulate, and resolving conflicts will prove exceedingly hard.

All under heaven's difficult matters necessarily begin with ease; all under heaven's great affairs necessarily emerge from the small. What is hard must originate in what is easy—therefore, we should address matters while they are still easy.

This passage illustrates how great undertakings must begin with attention to minute details. Yan Junping (a Han dynasty Daoist scholar) offers an analogy: The emergence of major disasters resembles how wind-cold pathogens invade the human body—when initially affecting just the skin and hair, a hot compress can cure it; when penetrating the muscle layers, acupuncture may still help; but once reaching the internal organs, herbal medicine becomes necessary; and when entering the bone marrow, not even the transformative power of Heaven and Earth can remedy it. Thus all difficulties under heaven begin from what seems easy.

The rise of great matters resembles mountain streams—beginning as mere moist vapor that gradually forms droplets, then converges into trickles, ultimately becoming rushing torrents. Therefore, sages (those who have attained the Dao) never deliberately pursue grand achievements, yet thereby accomplish greatness. Earlier passages described how those who violate the Dao always seek earth-shaking deeds yet often fail. Here the sage's approach serves as contrast, demonstrating the importance of attending to subtle matters. Sages avoid difficult, grandiose undertakings—appearing to practice wuwei (non-action) and embrace simplicity—yet thereby establish enduring accomplishments.

Yan Junping further explains: The sage's method of establishing merit and reputation is subtle—precisely through humility they become manifest, through obscurity they become clear, through smallness they become great, through concealment they become evident. Though their hearts embrace all people, they willingly occupy lower positions, thereby becoming true sovereigns.

Those who make promises lightly inevitably lack credibility; those who consider matters too simple inevitably encounter multiplied difficulties. Making commitments without deep consideration leads to broken trust; acting rashly without planning the beginning results in accumulated obstacles becoming insurmountable. How can one not be cautious?

Therefore, even sages treat easy matters as if they were difficult, and consequently never face truly insurmountable problems. Consider this: if sages with their talents and De (virtue) still handle small matters carefully, how much more should those without sage-like abilities avoid careless approaches? Thus worldly people often suffer from constant worries, while sages remain perpetually free from difficulties. Yan Junping describes the sage's state: their hearts remain still without reckless movement, their mouths quiet without careless speech, their eyes calm without random gazing, their ears tranquil without indiscriminate listening. In motion, they resemble Heaven and Earth's natural operations; in stillness, they appear as unfathomable as spirits. Without deliberate action they succeed; without excessive words their influence spreads. Advancing, none can obstruct them; retreating, they always leave room. Personally free from the slightest anxiety, their states suffer not the smallest calamity. (This tranquility born of wuwei necessarily stems from the Dao's simplicity—hence the following discussion on maintaining stability.)

The eighth volume of Daode Zhenjing Cangshi Zuanwei Pian (Exquisite Compilation from the Treasury Chamber of the Authentic Scripture of Dao and De) delves deeply into the subtle meanings of "Dao" (the Way) and "De" (Virtue/Power) in the Daode Jing. The term "Treasury Chamber" metaphorically suggests that the principles of Dao are as profound as treasures hidden in a secret vault, while "Exquisite Compilation" refers to the meticulous gathering of their most refined and essential teachings.

The text explains that Dao is the origin of all things in heaven and earth—formless and invisible, yet omnipresent. Like water always flowing downward, Dao operates naturally, achieving all things without deliberate action. What we call "De" is the manifestation of Dao in concrete phenomena, much like the moon casting countless reflections on different bodies of water—each reflection distinct, yet all originating from the same moon.

Those who cultivate the Dao should emulate the nature of water: seemingly soft and yielding, yet capable of wearing away stone; content to occupy the lowest position, yet nourishing all things. True wisdom lies not in forceful striving but in harmonizing with natural patterns. Just as plants grow spontaneously in spring and retreat in winter, these are all expressions of Dao's movement.

The text particularly emphasizes that "Wuwei" (non-action) does not mean doing nothing, but rather acting without coercion or artificial effort. Like a skilled craftsman who does not force a square peg into a round hole but works in accordance with the material's nature, a Daoist practitioner who understands this principle can maintain inner tranquility amid life's complexities.