《道德真經衍義手鈔》Vol. 15

This passage elucidates the meaning of "those who are good at building cannot be uprooted; those who are good at embracing cannot be separated" from Chapter 54 of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), exploring it from multiple perspectives.

Those skilled in establishing foundations create something that cannot be easily shaken; those adept at holding fast preserve what cannot be easily lost. In this way, their descendants can maintain ancestral sacrifices for generations. The text first emphasizes securing the root—just as a tree must have firm roots to grow branches and leaves.

The Zhuangzi's "Heaven and Earth" chapter mentions that in eras when the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue) flourish, worthiness is not exalted nor talent celebrated. Rulers resemble the tips of branches, acting with wuwei (non-action), while the people remain as simple and free as wild deer. This illustrates how when those in power govern effortlessly, those below retain their innate purity, much like deer unconstrained by royal rituals.

A ruler who skillfully uses the Dao to care for the people will earn their genuine allegiance, making them unwilling to depart. For example, King Tai of Zhou (grandfather of King Wen) was a sovereign who embodied the Dao. When he left Bin, his followers were as numerous as marketgoers—a manifestation of "those who are good at embracing cannot be separated."

From a cultivation perspective, those who excel at preserving the "primordial unity" of the Dao can maintain their shen (spirit) intact without dissipation. The Zhuangzi's "Let It Be" chapter recounts how Guangchengzi (a legendary immortal) taught the Yellow Emperor the method of "guarding the One," explaining that by holding fast to purity and harmony, he cultivated himself for 1,200 years without physical decline. This demonstrates how the practice of "embracing the origin and guarding the One" leads to enduring spiritual presence.

Finally, the Mencius records that while King Tai resided in Bin, the Di tribes repeatedly invaded. Neither offerings of silks, hounds, horses, nor jewels could prevent this. This shows that relying solely on external material means cannot safeguard the root—one must possess a deeper art of preservation.

This passage presents two narratives about governance and moral causality, illustrating the principle of "ruling through Virtue (De)."

The first story recounts how Gongliu, a Zhou dynasty ancestor and leader of Bin territory, responded to Di tribe invasions. When the Di sought to seize land, Gongliu declared: "A noble man does not use land that nourishes his people to harm others." He voluntarily left Bin territory, crossing Mount Liang to settle beneath Mount Qi. The people of Bin, moved by his benevolence, followed him en masse like attendees at a bustling market. Because subsequent Zhou rulers—King Wen, King Wu, King Cheng, and King Kang—all upheld moral governance, the Zhou dynasty endured for thirty-seven generations across 867 years, maintaining unbroken ancestral sacrifices.

The second story records a dialogue between Confucius and Duke Jing of Qi. Upon hearing of a fire in Zhou's ancestral temples, Confucius immediately identified it as the temple of King Xi (a Zhou ruler who violated ancestral traditions). He explained: "King Xi abandoned the simple institutions of Kings Wen and Wu, indulging in extravagant palaces and lavish carriages—thus Heaven sent disaster upon his temple as warning." When Duke Jing asked why King Xi himself wasn't punished directly, Confucius replied this preserved the lineage of Kings Wen and Wu. Later verification proved the burned temple was indeed King Xi's, astounding Duke Jing with Confucius' insight.

The passage concludes with a quote from the Classic of Documents' "Canon of Yao": only when rulers employ the virtuous (junde) and harmonize their clans (including nine generations from great-great-grandfather to great-great-grandson) can they properly govern the world. This demonstrates how the power of Virtue universally benefits all beings—exemplified by Emperor Yao achieving peace through self-cultivation and family harmony.

Emperor Yao exemplified De (Virtue/Power) by first cultivating his personal character (self-cultivation), then harmonizing nine generations of his family (family regulation), subsequently governing his officials effectively (state administration), and finally coordinating relations among all states (bringing peace to the world). This represents the proper sequence of governance from individual to universal.

Families that accumulate good deeds will enjoy lasting blessings, while those committing evil will inevitably face calamity. Tragedies like ministers assassinating rulers or sons murdering fathers never occur suddenly—they result from gradual accumulation. Without timely discernment of right and wrong, great disasters will follow. Those governing nations and families must take this as a warning.

As Zhuangzi observed: When spring's Yang Qi arises, all plants sprout; when autumn comes, nature's bounty matures. Governing a state likewise requires following natural patterns.

In the "Abdicating Kings" chapter, Zhuangzi states: The essence of Dao (the Way) serves for self-cultivation; its remaining aspects may govern a state, while its most superficial elements merely administer the world. Therefore understand self-cultivation by observing oneself, family regulation by observing one's household, village governance by observing communities, state administration by observing nations, and world peace by observing all under heaven. My method for comprehending universal principles follows this approach.

The Guan (Observation) hexagram in the Yi Jing (Classic of Changes) states: "The nobleman who reflects on his cultivation will be without fault." Master Bao explains: "The ruler occupies an exalted position and should examine the people's condition with firm and upright De (Virtue/Power). The masses follow their ruler as shadows follow form or clay follows the potter's wheel. When the ruler models evil, evil prevails; when advocating goodness, goodness flourishes. Though transformation begins with the ruler's person, it influences all under heaven. To examine one's own virtue, first observe the people's response. When the nobleman leads by example, no faults will remain."

The Handwritten Commentary on the Exposition of the True Scripture of Dao and De primarily discusses how Daoist practitioners can attain harmony with nature.

Laozi states that he comprehends the true conditions of the common people through five methods of observation (wuguan zhi fa). Chapter 55 mentions that those with profound De (Virtue/Power) are like newborn infants—venomous insects do not sting them, fierce beasts do not claw them, and birds of prey do not strike them. Zhuangzi explains in The Sign of Virtue Complete (De Chong Fu) that this state is not actual indifference, but rather not allowing emotions like joy and anger to harm body and mind, following nature without forced striving.

In The Adjustment of Controversies (Qi Wu Lun), Zhuangzi describes Nanguo Ziqi sitting quietly by a table, exhaling toward the sky, his spirit seemingly detached as if he had lost his companion. This state of the "perfect man" (zhiren) resembles the purity and innocence of an infant, free from contrived intentions, making him invulnerable to external harm. The Liezi·Yellow Emperor Chapter records a wondrous tale: when Duke Xiang of Zhao led a hunting party into the mountains, they encountered a man who emerged from a stone cliff and walked freely through fire. The man claimed he knew nothing of stones or fire. Confucius's disciple Zixia explained that when one is in perfect harmony with all things, they can pass through metal and stone, tread on water and fire without suffering harm.

The core teaching here is that by returning to simplicity and dissolving discriminatory thoughts, Daoist practitioners achieve complete unity with nature, rendering them impervious to external harm. Just as an infant, free of knowledge and desire, remains safest, the perfect man, devoid of contrived intentions and emotions, becomes most powerful.

Duke Wen of Wei asked Zixia: "Why does the Master not act thus?" Zixia replied: "To empty one's mind and abandon cleverness—this I have not yet achieved. But I can attempt to speak of it." The Duke pressed further, and Zixia explained: "The Master (Confucius) could have done it but chose not to." Hearing this, Duke Wen was greatly pleased.

This passage from the Zhuangzi illustrates that cultivating the Dao requires abandoning intellectual cunning. Like the story from the Spring and Autumn Annals (Year 21 of Duke Xi) about Dou Bibo of Chu who secretly consorted with a woman of the Yun clan and begot Ziwen, it shows that forced striving brings harm instead.

The "Birth of the People" chapter in the Classic of Poetry's "Greater Odes" records the miraculous birth of Houji, progenitor of the Zhou dynasty: After Jiang Yuan gave birth to Houji, she first placed him in a narrow alley where oxen and sheep avoided stepping on him; then in a forest where woodcutters happened to pass; finally on cold ice where birds warmed him with their wings. When Houji finally cried aloud, he revealed the wonder of a heaven-born sage.

Laozi observes that while infants have weak sinews and bones, their grip is firm; though ignorant of sexual union, they manifest natural arousal—this demonstrates abundant Jing (essence). Their all-day crying never makes them hoarse—this shows harmonious Yuanqi (primordial energy). The Zhuangzi's "Great Ancestral Teacher" chapter adds: Those who attain the Dao breathe down to their heels, while ordinary people breathe only with their throats. Those with shallow breath often harbor deep desires, and their innate wisdom becomes meager.

To know serenity is to understand the constant Dao; to comprehend the constant Dao is wisdom. Forcibly pursuing longevity instead invites calamity, and using cleverness to manipulate Qi (vital energy) constitutes violent striving. When things reach their extreme, they decline—this contradicts the Dao, and what contradicts the Dao meets early demise. Like the Mencius story of the Song farmer who pulled sprouts to hasten growth, such efforts harm rather than help. Cultivating the Dao should resemble an infant's naturalness, never forced striving.

Someone came to Mencius and said, "I'm exhausted today! I helped the seedlings in the field grow taller!" His son rushed out to look and found all the seedlings had withered. In truth, few people in the world refrain from "helping" crops grow. Those who abandon weeding and fertilizing as useless are like lazy farmers who don't till the soil, while those who forcibly pull seedlings upward not only fail to help but actually harm them. Mencius used this analogy to answer Gongsun Chou's question. Gongsun Chou asked: "What is meant by the vast, flowing qi (vital energy)?" Mencius replied: "This is difficult to explain. This qi is supremely vast and strong. If nurtured with righteousness and not harmed, it can fill the space between heaven and earth." (Chengzi explained: Heaven and humanity are originally one. The vast qi is our innate energy—cultivate it well and it fills heaven and earth; obscured by selfishness, this qi shrinks and diminishes.)

The "Book of Documents·Instructions of Yi" states: "Perform good deeds and heaven will send down blessings." It records how Yi Yin, the virtuous minister of Shang dynasty, admonished the new king: "Revere self-cultivation! How magnificent were the sage instructions of former kings, how clear their excellent words. Heaven shows no fixed favor—blessings follow good deeds, calamities follow evil. Even the smallest virtue can bring joy to myriad states, while the slightest lapse in virtue may topple ancestral temples."

In the "Great Ancestral Teacher" chapter, Zhuangzi says: The Dao (cosmic origin) has existed since antiquity, preceding heaven and earth. It gives birth to ghosts and spirits and the Heavenly Emperor, generating all things between heaven and earth. The Dao existed before Taiji (the undifferentiated state of yin-yang), yet isn't considered lofty; it extends below the six directions (up-down, east-west, north-south), yet isn't considered deep. It predates heaven and earth yet doesn't seem ancient; it's older than high antiquity yet doesn't seem aged. (This content appears similarly in the "There was something formless" chapter of the Daodejing and won't be repeated here.)

Daodejing Chapter 56 states: Those who truly understand the Dao don't speak carelessly, while those who talk glibly don't truly understand. Thus Confucius once said: "I wish to remain silent." Zigong asked: "If the Master doesn't speak, how shall we disciples learn?" Confucius replied: "Does heaven speak? The four seasons proceed and all things grow. Does heaven speak?"

Mencius also said: "Do I delight in argumentation?" (found in Mencius·Duke Wen of Teng II), explaining that his debates aimed to rectify the world's moral compass.

This passage illustrates the Daoist wisdom of "non-speaking" through several classic anecdotes:

In the "Tian Zifang" chapter, Zhuangzi states that truly enlightened individuals need not deliberately correct others—their mere upright demeanor naturally inspires understanding. When Confucius met Wenbo Xuzi, he remained silent because the true Dao (the Way) is "wherever the eye falls," making words superfluous.

The "Zhi Bei You" chapter recounts how a man named "Zhi" (Knowledge) asked Wuweiwei (symbolizing the state of Wuwei, non-action) about the Dao three times, receiving no reply—not from unwillingness, but because the Dao is inherently ineffable. Later, the Yellow Emperor explained: true understanding of the Dao requires "no thought, no deliberation, nowhere to abide, nothing to follow." The Emperor ultimately revealed that the truly enlightened one was the silent Wuweiwei.

In the "Ying Diwang" chapter, Wang Ni responded to Nie Que's four questions with "I don't know," yet this very response sparked Nie Que's sudden realization. Like a musician who cannot convey musical theory through words alone, true wisdom transcends language.

These stories collectively demonstrate that the profoundest truths cannot be obtained through debate—sages practice the "teaching without words." As the author reflects, engaging in refutations of false doctrines is a last resort. Just as Zhuangzi taught, maintaining a serene and inclusive mind naturally dissolves fallacious arguments.

This passage illustrates the core Daoist principle that "the Dao cannot be conveyed through words" through several classical anecdotes:

The first story recounts the Jin State musician Shi Kuang (a renowned ancient maestro), demonstrating that even someone skilled in music cannot grasp its true essence through external rules alone without heartfelt comprehension. Like the subtle and refined tones within the pentatonic scale, genuine musical understanding requires perfect harmony between mind and hand.

The second anecdote cites the Zhuangzi's dialogue between Wheelwright Bian and Duke Huan of Qi. The seventy-year-old wheelwright explains that his craft's secret—the perfect balance between "neither too fast nor too slow" achieved through intuitive mastery—cannot be verbally transmitted to his son, nor can his son comprehend it through words. This illustrates how the sage's true wisdom, like wheel-making skill, contains ineffable subtleties; what later generations inherit through texts are merely the dregs of ancient thought.

The third reference describes Liezi (a prominent Daoist figure) living unrecognized in Zheng State for forty years, showing how genuine Dao-realized individuals often remain unknown. Unswayed by worldly concerns of intimacy, profit, or status, they become the world's most precious treasures.

Finally, the mention of King Xuan of Qi attempting to recruit Mencius (a Confucian representative) with generous treatment implies the fundamental difference between worldly honors and Daoist spiritual attainment. Throughout, the text emphasizes that the Dao's true meaning transcends language and form, requiring personal practice for realization.

This passage discusses two main themes: Mencius' perspective on wealth and status, and the anecdote about Emperor Wen of Han and the riverside hermit.

The first part examines Mencius' attitude toward material wealth. When offered a salary of ten thousand zhong (an ancient unit of measurement where one zhong equaled six hu and four dou) to take office, Mencius replied: "If I truly desired riches, would refusing a previous offer of one hundred thousand to accept this mere ten thousand demonstrate such desire?" The commentary explains that Mencius believed true nobility doesn't reside in external titles or emoluments—honors bestowed by powerful figures like Zhao Meng could be revoked at will. Real nobility is internal, the innate moral virtue (lianggui, "genuine nobility") one is born with, which cannot be taken away by others.

The second part briefly mentions Emperor Wen of Han hearing about the riverside hermit (Heshanggong) who lived in a thatched hut by the water. The author notes this story appears in detail in both the Zuo Zhuan and the Shiji's imperial annals, thus requiring no repetition here. This reflects Daoism's admiration for the reclusive life of hermits practicing pure cultivation.

The core philosophy throughout this passage emphasizes that true value lies in inner cultivation rather than external fame and fortune—a perspective deeply aligned with Daoist principles that honor natural simplicity while disdaining worldly glory.