《道德真經取善集》Vol. 1

The Collected Insights on the Dao-De Zhenjing is a commentary compilation on the Dao De Jing edited by Song Dynasty scholar Li Lin. The opening passage clarifies: "Dao" (the Way) is the universal principle all people follow, while "De" (Virtue) represents the self-cultivation naturally realized within one's heart. The true Dao never decays through ten thousand generations, and authentic De preserves one's fundamental nature eternally. Observing the decline of Dao and De during the late Zhou period, Laozi composed eighty-one chapters to illuminate these eternal truths—concise in wording yet profound in meaning, requiring learners to contemplate with tranquil minds.

Regarding the chapter stating "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao," Yan Zun (a Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) explains: Any Dao that can be described in words has already strayed from its natural authenticity. Just as daylight needs no candle to illuminate it, true radiance (symbolizing the constant Dao) requires no deliberate display. What can be written on bamboo slips or carved into stone to teach others belongs to the speakable Dao; only the formless, primordial root that has existed since antiquity and gives birth to heaven and earth constitutes the unchanging eternal Dao. The profound teachings of the entire Dao De Jing unfold from these few lines.

Wang Yuanze (a Song Dynasty scholar and son of Wang Anshi) elaborates: Names arise from concrete phenomena, and all things with form and appearance ultimately perish—only by realizing this impermanence can one grasp true constancy. The first "Dao" in the text refers to the ultimate Great Dao, while the second "speakable Dao" denotes expressible principles. The genuine Dao is mysteriously empty and tranquil, beyond verbal expression, accessible only through spiritual insight. Sages reluctantly use the name "Dao" as a provisional designation. Expressible principles (like benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and wisdom) change with time; only the ineffable constitutes the eternal Dao.

(Note: The original text's Dao-De Zhenjing refers to the Dao De Jing; "ninety-nine chapters" indicates eighty-one sections; Yan Zun was a renowned Han Dynasty Daoist scholar; Wang Yuanze was Wang Pang, son of Wang Anshi; "spiritual repository" signifies the innermost depths of the mind.)

This scripture elucidates the essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way) and its relationship with all things.

Concepts like "righteousness," "propriety," and "wisdom" are subject to change, while only the Dao remains eternal and unchanging. The true Constant Dao (eternal Way) operates spontaneously, responding to all phenomena with inexhaustible adaptability. It cannot be conveyed through words nor grasped through intellectual pursuit—it can only be realized through attunement to the patterns of creation (natural laws). Though it contains radiance, it conceals its brilliance; appearing as Wuwei (non-action), yet accomplishing all things, silently reaching its ultimate expression.

"Namelessness" (without specific designation) marks the beginning of heaven and earth's formation, while "having names" (specific designations) constitutes the source from which all things arise. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) explains: As the most magnificent of all tangible forms, heaven and earth must have originated from "non-being," hence their inception is called "nothingness." All things generate one another through form, and their emergence must stem from "being," hence they are called the "mother of all things."

Lü Huiqing (Lü Jifu) further elaborates: "Namelessness" refers to the Dao itself—the primordial source from which heaven and earth began. In the earliest cosmic state, there existed conditions of "nothingness" and "non-presence," where even the concept of "one" did not yet exist. When "one" first emerged but had not yet taken form, this was called the "beginning of heaven and earth." When all things received this "one" to come into being, it was called "De" (Virtue/Power)—this is the meaning behind "the named is the mother of all things."

"Namelessness" denotes the Dao in itself, which gives birth to heaven and earth—this represents the Dao's subtle essence. "Having names" refers to heaven and earth, whose canopy and foundation allow all things to manifest—this represents the Dao's visible expression. Heaven and earth possess concrete forms and spatial orientations, hence they are "named." As the mother of all things, they contain primordial Qi (vital energy) that nurtures all beings to maturity, much like a mother raising children.

Su Shi (Su Ziyou) observes: From the nameless state emerged heaven and earth, and only after their establishment did names begin to appear. From this named state spread forth the proliferation of all things, whose multitudinous forms soon made names too numerous to exhaust. Therefore, "namelessness" constitutes the Dao's fundamental substance, while "having names" represents the Dao's functional manifestation. The sage comprehends the Dao to serve the world—capable both of entering into myriad concrete phenomena while maintaining the "non-being" state to observe the Dao's subtleties, and of realizing the ultimate "nothingness" while preserving the "being" state to observe the Dao's manifestations. To dwell only on surface appearances without grasping their essence appears shallow and lacking in spiritual depth; to cling solely to the subtle while neglecting the manifest leads to detachment from reality.

If one fails to comprehend the boundaries (jiao) of transformation in all things, even the most refined principles cannot be fully integrated. The ancients taught that when the human mind is stirred by external phenomena, desires arise—these desires represent agitation that departs from the state of tranquil stillness.

Indulging the senses in chasing sights and sounds, or exhausting the spirit in scheming and calculation—these are not states of desirelessness. Only by maintaining desirelessness can one attain true stillness. In this state, observing the origin of heaven and earth, one may comprehend the realm of the "subtle" (miao). Hence it is said that "constant desirelessness" allows one to perceive the profound and mysterious Dao. This state is so refined and unfathomable it may be called "minute."

When a person dwells in desire, they become restless and unsettled. Observing the mother of all things from this state, one only perceives the superficial "boundaries" (jiao). Though all things return to the Dao, none know who governs them—this state may be called "vast." Those with desires see only the coarse manifestations of the Dao.

The desireless and the desiring both originate from the same human mind, differing only in name. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) explained that "mystery" (xuan) is neither being nor non-being, but an exceedingly subtle state. Just as black and red blend to form the color xuan, or yin and yang unite in the Dao, both desireless and desiring states may be called "mysterious."

"The mystery of mysteries" (xuan zhi you xuan) is the gateway to all wonders. The Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic states that xuan gives birth to divine marvels, while the Book of Changes declares that "spirit" (shen) is what manifests the wondrous in all things. Refining this wonder to its utmost subtlety yields "mystery." The color of heaven is xuan—though displaying myriad hues, the source of these colors never reveals itself. "The mystery of mysteries" refers precisely to this origin that creates all things.

The movement of heaven, the bearing of earth, human spirituality, and the flourishing of all beings—these marvels all stem from xuan, hence it is called "the gateway to all wonders." The Book of Changes teaches that the alternation of yin and yang constitutes the Dao, yet both emerge from "the One"—this One is what the Dao generates. Xuan represents yin and yang unified in the One, while "the mystery beyond" points to the Dao itself. All things contain wondrous principles, and these principles originate from the Dao—thus the Dao is truly "the gateway to all wonders."

This chapter speaks of the eternal and unchanging true Dao. Those who comprehend it know intuitively; it cannot be fully conveyed through words. Whether observing coarse manifestations (jiao) or subtle wonders (miao), one is ultimately contemplating the same Dao.

The Collected Goodness from the Dao De Jing primarily elucidates the relativity of "beauty and ugliness" as well as "goodness and non-goodness." After establishing in Chapter One that the essence of the Dao (the Way) is the supreme truth—"mystery upon mystery"—Laozi points out in Chapter Two: When all under heaven recognize beauty as beauty, the concept of ugliness arises; when they recognize goodness as goodness, the notion of non-goodness emerges.

The Imperial Commentary (Yuzhu) explains: The Dao itself has no distinctions—how could there be beauty or ugliness? Original nature is fundamentally unified—how could there be goodness or evil? It is precisely because the concept of "beauty" is established that "ugliness" follows; because the standard of "goodness" is set, "non-goodness" comes into being. What the world reveres as miraculous may in an instant transform into something loathsome and foul; what is rejected today may be embraced tomorrow. Thus, the sage, having realized the true Dao, transcends these relative concepts and remains unperturbed by beauty and ugliness, goodness and evil.

Wang Yuanze (a Song Dynasty scholar) adds: Ugliness and non-goodness are in fact born from the concepts of beauty and goodness. When people cling to beauty and goodness, they unwittingly plant the seeds of ugliness and evil. Just as Hebo (the mythical River God) believed he possessed the greatest beauty under heaven—until he saw the vast ocean and realized his own insignificance—or as Boyi (an ancient paragon of virtue) clung to his reputation for goodness and starved to death on Shouyang Mountain, both lost their original nature in the process.

The true "beauty" of the Dao is the supreme state that transcends specific notions of beauty and ugliness, akin to Zhuangzi's teaching that only in "serene boundlessness" can all beauty be contained. The "goodness" of the Dao is the highest goodness, beyond particular virtuous acts, wherein all forms of De (Virtue/Power) naturally manifest. This chapter serves as a reminder not to cling to superficial concepts but to comprehend the eternal and unchanging truth of the Dao.

(Note: "Mystery upon mystery" refers to the ineffable profundity of the Dao; "Hebo" and "Boyi" are figures from classical allusions; "Imperial Commentary" refers to Emperor Huizong of Song's annotations on the Dao De Jing.)

This passage elucidates the concept of interdependent opposites from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), such as "being and non-being give rise to each other," while illustrating how sages embody the principle of Wuwei (non-action) in navigating worldly affairs.

The text begins by presenting six pairs of mutually dependent opposites: being and non-being generate each other, difficulty and ease complete each other, length and shortness manifest through contrast, height and lowness define each other, musical notes and sounds harmonize together, front and back follow one another. These polarities, like the interplay of Yin-Yang or the rotation of seasons, reflect natural patterns. Yet ordinary people often become trapped by these dualistic phenomena, unable to transcend them.

It then explains the way of the sage—the Daoist ideal of an enlightened being: they follow nature's flow without forced intervention or deliberate instruction. Any action risks gain and loss; any speech may lead to error. Sages maintain inner emptiness and stillness, undisturbed by external dualities, thus guiding others back to their original simplicity.

The passage cites Master Wen (Sima Guang's honorific title): all tangible phenomena inevitably create distinctions, distinctions breed contention, contention leads to chaos, and chaos culminates in stagnation. Hence, sages do not exalt such oppositions.

Finally, it emphasizes the profound efficacy of "teaching without words" and Wuwei: though sages dwell in a world of polarities, they remain transcendent, unshaken by dualistic disturbances. As the scripture states, this wordless instruction and effortless benefit represent a rare attainment in the human realm.

(Note: "Two Modes" refers to Yin-Yang; "six pairs" denotes the aforementioned oppositions; "imperial commentary" indicates annotations by rulers; "Master Wen" honors Sima Guang; "Gu Huan" was a Daoist scholar during the Southern Qi and Liang dynasties.)

All things grow and function naturally, never refusing or rejecting. Like a mirror reflecting objects, showing both beauty and ugliness truthfully; or like a valley echoing sounds, responding to both pleasant and harsh noises alike. The term "all things" here does not literally mean ten thousand objects, but signifies the vast multiplicity of existence. While all things operate spontaneously, the sage (one who has attained the Dao) follows their intrinsic nature without forceful interference, for the sage's mind is empty and free from subjective preferences. If one harbors distinctions between likes and dislikes, one becomes entangled in the complex appearances of phenomena—how could rejection not arise then?

All things grow naturally, yet the sage never claims possession; guides their development without boasting of merit; and achieves accomplishments without dwelling on success. All things emerge and transform independently, created by none; all beings find their proper place without the sage proclaiming his virtue. When achievements are fulfilled and the Dao is universally manifested, the sage's mind remains as detached as if dwelling on Mount Guye (legendary abode of immortals), never lording over sentient beings—this is the sage's perfect virtue.

All things grow naturally, each reaching its own completion; all things function spontaneously, each realizing its own nature. The sage attributes all merit to the things themselves, unburdened by the three concerns of creating, guiding, or accomplishing. Precisely because he claims no credit, his virtuous power endures eternally. Like Emperor Yao of antiquity, whose achievements were illustrious yet who still considered himself lacking.

The sage dwells in poverty without suffering, resides in wealth without bondage—this is the state of "non-dwelling." When even the self is not clung to, how can external things affect one? This is the supreme way of being. When General Zifa of Chu captured Cai, King Chu offered him a hundred acres of fertile land and the jade scepter of nobility, but he declined, saying: "The state's prosperity depends on the ruler's virtue; the enemy's retreat stems from the general's dignity; battlefield victory relies on soldiers' courage. To claim titles and rewards based on the people's merits goes against the Dao of righteousness." Thus, achievement without dwelling ensures that virtuous power never fades.

This chapter teaches us to comprehend the eternal Dao: transcending distinctions between beauty and ugliness, viewing good and evil equally, and remaining unmoved by dualistic concepts. Only the sage understands this principle, therefore acting in accordance with nature, teaching without words, attributing merit to all things without claiming it for himself—thus the Dao abides with him forever.

This chapter examines how rulers can maintain social stability by avoiding overt promotion of talent and rare goods.

Regarding "not exalting the worthy": Sima Guang (Duke Wen) observes that while honoring the virtuous appears commendable, excessive pursuit leads to competition for fame and profit. Laozi advocates valuing genuine ability over empty reputation. When rulers use official positions, carriages, and fine robes to honor the worthy, commoners blindly chase superficial honors, provoking conflict. The sage doesn't reject talent, but assigns roles to both worthy and ordinary individuals without artificially elevating the former. Zhuangzi similarly warned that exalting the worthy causes people to undermine each other.

Concerning "not treasuring rare goods": When emperors prize gold, jade, and jewels, people resort to unscrupulous means to obtain these scarce items, even turning to theft. The sage doesn't reject material goods, but enables people to sustain themselves through farming and weaving, avoiding special emphasis on hard-to-obtain luxuries. Confucius remarked that if rulers lacked greed, even offering rewards for theft would find no takers.

The passage concludes with "not displaying desire-arousing objects": Once human desires are stimulated, people pursue them recklessly. Just as Boyi starved at Shouyang Mountain for his principles while the robber Zhi rampaged through Dongling for profit. The sage transcends temptations of gain/loss, life/death, and poverty/wealth, maintaining inner clarity undisturbed by external things. When no covetous thoughts arise within, one naturally remains unmoved by worldly temptations.

(Note: "Worthy" refers to virtuous and talented individuals; "Robber Zhi" was a notorious ancient thief; "Shouyang Mountain" and "Dongling" are locations from classical allusions; "Boyi" was a virtuous scholar during the Shang-Zhou transition.)

The noble person pursues virtuous conduct (De), while the petty person chases after material wealth. If one neither upholds the superficial display of honoring the worthy, nor seeks rare and coveted possessions, then there will be nothing to stir desire, and the people's minds will remain free from confusion and disorder. Fu Yi's commentary notes that ancient texts read this as "keeping the people's minds from disorder."

The sage's method of governing the state, as Heshang Gong points out, follows the same principle as self-cultivation. One must keep the mind empty while ensuring the body remains substantial. Cao Daochong explains: When the mind is empty and tranquil in its purity, the spirit (Shen) can be preserved, and the Dao will endure; when the body is full and nourished, the essence (Jing) is safeguarded, and longevity is attained. The mind, when discerning, remains empty and thus does not exalt the worthy; the body, when content, remains full and thus does not breed greed.

One must weaken excessive ambition while strengthening the robustness of the bones. The Imperial Commentary states: Excessive ambition leads either to relentless pursuit of fame without rest, or insatiable craving for wealth, or boasting of one's achievements, or flaunting one's talents—all of which take one further from the Dao. The sage's ambition is always humble and lowly, yet people exalt him; he always steps back, yet people push him forward. Understanding the principle of strength yet abiding in gentleness, knowing the value of glory yet embracing humility—this is called weakening ambition. Like Guangchengzi (a legendary immortal), who lived for twelve hundred years without his body aging—this is called strengthening the bones. Liu Zhongping remarks: An empty mind and weakened ambition nurture the spirit (Shen), while a full belly and strong bones accumulate essence (Jing).

One must constantly keep the people in a state of no-knowledge and no-desire. The Imperial Commentary quotes Zhuangzi: "Being the same as no-knowledge, virtue (De) will not be lost; being the same as no-desire, this is called simplicity." Preserving simplicity ensures the people's innate nature remains intact. The sage governs the state precisely to preserve the people's innate nature. Excessive knowledge harms the natural order of life, and excessive desire disrupts the true essence of life—what is called governance in name actually creates greater disorder. Thus, the people must always be kept without knowledge or desire. Wang Yuanze explains: With knowledge comes false views; with desire comes outward seeking. When these two are eliminated, the nature and emotions are settled. Through teachings that do not exalt the worthy and that empty the mind and weaken ambition, the people are freed from the awareness of contending for fame and profit; through teachings that do not value material goods and that fill the belly and strengthen the bones, the people are freed from insatiable greed.

Thus, even those who are clever will not dare to act recklessly.

Lü Jifu (a Daoist priest of the Northern Song Dynasty) explains that the truly wise understand: exalting the worthy is not the highest principle, nor is pursuing material wealth the most precious endeavor. Deliberately striving for these things ultimately fails to bring true benefit, so the wise do not force such pursuits. Simply by adhering to the principle of "wuwei" (non-action), the world naturally becomes well-governed.

Wang Anshi (the Duke of Shu) further elaborates: what appears as action is actually without striving, while what seems like non-action accomplishes everything. The sage (one who has attained the Dao) practices the way of wuwei, and thus can govern all things effectively.

This chapter discusses how sages govern by embodying the Dao and practicing non-action. They neither glorify the worthy nor prize material goods, maintaining inner emptiness while being inwardly fulfilled, weakening desires while strengthening the root. This is the sage’s way of self-cultivation and governing through wuwei. When the people are free from contention and return to simplicity, when theft and greed are eliminated, the world naturally attains peace. The Daodejing states: the great Dao is eternally wuwei, yet accomplishes all things. If rulers can abide by this principle, the myriad things will transform and flourish of their own accord. Emperor Shun achieved sagehood through wuwei governance, and King Wu of Zhou established his royal legacy through effortless rule (literally, "ruling with robes hanging down and hands folded"). Thus, when emperors govern through wuwei, the world naturally achieves completion.

The core idea of the first three chapters is as follows: the first chapter states, "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao"—the Dao that can be described in words is not the everlasting true Dao. The true Dao transcends language and form, and can only be grasped through insight. Those who awaken to the Dao transcend distinctions of beauty and ugliness, good and evil, hence the next chapter discusses how "when the world knows beauty as beauty, ugliness arises." When one is no longer bound by dualistic concepts, the mind no longer clings to judgments of right and wrong, beauty and ugliness—thus the following chapter speaks of "not exalting the worthy." By neither glorifying the worthy nor prizing wealth, the mind remains empty and tranquil. Emptiness and tranquility lead to inner fulfillment, the highest state of spiritual concentration and moral cultivation. Scholars who master the essence of these three chapters grasp the greater part of the Daodejing’s wisdom.

Chapter Four discusses the "emptiness" (chong) of the Dao: though the Dao is empty, its function is inexhaustible. The imperial commentary (referring to Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s Imperial Commentary on the Daodejing) states: the Dao is real and trustworthy (youqing youxin), hence it is useful, yet it is wuwei and formless, so it never overflows.

"Chong" signifies the Middle Way. The Dao’s function is to reduce the high to supplement the low, to take from excess to fill deficiency—nowhere does it deviate from the Middle Way. The substance of the Dao is empty yet never exhausted; it fills heaven and earth yet leaves no trace; it nourishes the myriad things yet claims no merit. Thus it is said to "seem never full."

Sima Guang (Duke Wen) explains: the Dao is like an abyss—unfathomable, yet the source of all things. The character "abyss" (yuan) originally refers to swirling water; when water swirls into an abyss, it becomes still and unified. Thus, the abyss remains whole and undivided. The Dao is like this—profoundly silent, yet governing all things.

This scripture explores the essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way) and its cultivation methods. Zhuangzi uses the metaphor of a still pond to illustrate the Dao—its depths serene and undisturbed, unmingled with external things, representing the original substance of the Dao. Profound beyond measure and quiescent without movement, the Dao appears as the root of all things, yet it does not depend on anything; rather, all things naturally return to it.

To realize the Dao, one need not seek externally but should practice the following: blunting sharp edges (挫其锐), resolving entanglements (解其纷), tempering radiance (和其光), and blending with the mundane (同其尘). Sima Guang (Duke Wen) explains: the Dao disdaws ostentatious sharpness, disregards complicated affairs, rejects glaring brilliance, and values humble dwelling below.

When the mind interacts with external phenomena, sharp edges easily arise—these must be softened. When external things disturb the mind, entanglements form—these must be untangled. Achieving these two, one's innate nature becomes tranquil, naturally filled with inner radiance. Once possessing this inner light, one should harmonize with all things without displaying sharpness—this is the state of "radiant yet not glaring." Maintaining inner authenticity while outwardly blending with worldly affairs, one follows all things yet remains untainted.

The Dao eternally exists (湛兮似或存), unchanging through past and present. Guo Xiang explains this existence appears so subtle that the word "seems" is used. Wang Yuanze observes that although we know the Dao exists, we cannot ascertain its origin—hence the phrase "we know not whose child it is."

Finally, regarding "before the forms of gods" (象帝之先): "Forms" represent the primordial patterns of all things, while "gods" signify the sovereign rulers of creation. Yet the Dao existed prior to these manifestations, just as Zhuangzi states—the Dao gives birth to spirits and ghosts, to heaven and earth.

This chapter of the Daode Jing explains how the Dao functions through the principle of the Middle Way. Though its essence is empty, it never becomes exhausted. It governs all phenomena, existing prior to the source of all tangible things.

Chapter Five, "Heaven and Earth," states: "Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs (sacrificial straw effigies discarded after rituals). The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang commented that kindness arises from harm, and harm likewise stems from kindness. When benevolence is deliberately practiced, harm inevitably follows. The way Heaven and Earth treat all things, and the sage treats the people, follows natural patterns without conscious intention to love or benefit. The so-called "benevolence" is difficult to truly define. Just as straw dogs are used when needed and discarded afterward, all things grow naturally and people govern themselves—why impose deliberate intervention?

While "benevolence" typically denotes caring for people and benefiting all things, the "non-benevolence" here doesn't imply cruelty, but rather the absence of forced kindness. Just as Heaven and Earth nurture all things completely spontaneously, without partiality. During rituals, straw dogs are reverently placed in bamboo containers covered with embroidered cloth, handled only after priestly purification—yet afterward, passersby trample them and woodcutters burn them. This isn't due to hatred, but simply the passage of circumstance. Thus Heaven and Earth seem unkind yet accomplish supreme kindness; the sage seems unkind yet achieves ultimate benevolence.

"Isn't the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows (ancient leather forge-blowing device)?" Emperor Xuanzong explained: the bellows' leather bag and bamboo pipe, though empty, respond to external stimuli through their hollowness. Scholar Wang Yuanze (Song dynasty) added that the bellows, precisely through its emptiness, interacts with all things—responding yet leaving no trace. Heaven and Earth's treatment of all things, and the sage's treatment of the people, follow nature without clinging to present circumstances or dwelling on the past, hence resembling the inexhaustible bellows.

The Dao has no fixed form—it moves between Heaven and Earth through harmonious Qi, nourishing all things. As the bellows shapes forms through Qi and the flute produces sounds through Qi, this empty Qi connects with all existence. Every tangible, audible phenomenon emerges therefrom, hence the bellows metaphor. This illustrates how Heaven, Earth, and sages all follow the same principle of empty non-attachment—hollow yet inexhaustible, generating ever-renewing energy through continuous operation.

Wang Bi explains that the bellows (tuoyue) is empty and wuwei (non-action) inside. Precisely because of this emptiness, it can never be crushed and its movement will never be exhausted. Wang Yuanze adds that emptiness is its essence, while movement is its function.

Laozi warns people: Speaking too much often leads to difficulties—it's better to maintain inner emptiness and stillness. Emperor Huizong of Song notes in his commentary that one must carefully guard the inner mind, close the external senses, withdraw the gaze, and turn inward in contemplation. Only then can one perceive the original heart of heaven and earth—this is the meaning of "guarding the center" (shouzhong). Wang Bi further clarifies that if one doesn't emulate the emptiness and stillness of heaven and earth, or act without self-conscious intention like the bellows, if one's actions are ill-timed and words inappropriate to the occasion, one will encounter obstacles everywhere. Rather than this, it's better to embrace De (Virtue) within and steadfastly hold to the Dao—this is the true meaning of "guarding the center."

This chapter begins with heaven and earth's "non-benevolence," uses the bellows as a metaphor, and concludes with "much speech leads to exhaustion"—all to encourage people to speak by emulating the selfless nature of heaven and earth, maintaining emptiness and stillness like the bellows, responding naturally to external stimuli without forced reaction. Thus one avoids the misfortune brought by excessive speech. Rather than inviting disaster through many words, better to remain silent and guard the center.

Chapter Six discusses "the valley spirit never dies": Emperor Huizong explains that all formed things must wax and wane, all numerical principles involve success and failure—thus all things experience life and death. But the valley (gu) can respond to all things while remaining eternally empty; the spirit (shen) can transform and nurture all things while remaining eternally still. This eternal nature merges with the Dao—it doesn't depend on form, isn't constrained by numerical principles, and generates life endlessly like the perpetual movement of sun and moon or the unswerving North Star. Hence it "never dies."

Heshanggong interprets "valley" as meaning "to nourish"—if a person can nourish the spirit, they won't die. Here "spirit" refers to the five viscera's deities: the liver stores the hun (ethereal soul), the lungs store the po (corporeal soul), the heart stores the shen (spirit), the kidneys store the jing (essence), and the spleen stores the will. If the five viscera are damaged, these five spiritual aspects depart. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) states that central emptiness is called "valley," unfathomability is called "spirit"—though heaven and earth have limits, the Dao is boundless, hence "never dies."

Wang Yuanze explains that the "valley" can respond limitlessly, the "spirit" can transform unfathomably. All things receive life from me, yet I myself have no life or death to speak of—this is the "valley spirit." Simply calling it "spirit" is already profoundly mysterious; adding "valley" emphasizes its capacity for emptiness, fullness, and responsive containment. Because it never exhausts itself, we simply say it "never dies."

Next comes "this is called the mysterious female": Emperor Huizong comments that all things receive life from emptiness and achieve form within manifestation. The valley's function...

This passage elucidates the Daoist understanding of cosmic origins and the mysteries of life. The "Formless Spirit" (the Dao without shape or form) is the source of all things—though without fixed appearance, it bestows life upon all beings. "Mystery" (Xuan, the profound and unfathomable) represents heaven's essence, while "Feminine" (Pin, the maternal principle of gestation) embodies earth's nature. All things come into existence through the union of these two principles. The "Valley Spirit" (the divine marvel within emptiness) metaphorically represents the eternal Dao, and the "Mysterious Feminine" (Xuanpin) reveals the wonder of creation.

Wang Yuanze explains: The Valley Spirit bestows life, while the Mysterious Feminine shapes form. They are themselves the dual Qi of Yin and Yang that constitute heaven and earth. Essentially of one origin, they are called Valley Spirit for their life-giving function and Mysterious Feminine for their form-shaping capacity. Cao Daochong adds: Xuan signifies the divine presence within darkness, Pin represents the harmonious Qi mechanism—these are the origins of Yin-Yang and the ancestors of heaven and earth.

"Valley" carries connotations of nourishment—empty yet responsive to all things without attachment, receptive yet non-accumulative. This reveals that nurturing the spirit (Shen) hinges on maintaining emptiness, which constitutes the path to longevity, residing within the Mysterious Feminine. The "Gate of the Mysterious Feminine" is called the root of heaven and earth. Zhuangzi said all things have origins yet their source remains invisible—only sages can perceive it. Heaven and earth represent the spatial dimensions encompassing all things, which fundamentally share simultaneous existence with the cosmos. Yet from the Dao's evolutionary perspective, heaven and earth precede the myriad things. But the origin of heaven and earth itself is the Mysterious Feminine—that Dao which existed before creation—who can truly perceive it?

Heshang Gong identifies the "root" as the fundamental origin, considering human nostrils and mouth as gates connecting heaven and earth's primordial Qi. The Compilation of Subtleties (Zhuanwei) notes that while the preceding discussion concerns nurturing the spirit's principle, this section addresses refining the body's method—only when both form and spirit reach sublime states can one unite with the Dao. Cao Daochong further explains: Xuan constitutes heaven's essence, Pin represents earth's Qi mechanism. Mysterious heaven bestows life's essence (Jing's radiance), while Feminine earth gestates all physical forms (Xingqi). Though vast, heaven and earth originate from Dao and De, manifesting Yin-Yang, hence called the root of creation.

"Continuously seeming to endure" describes the state of breathing. Heshang Gong advises that breath through nostrils and mouth should be long, subtle, seemingly existent yet not. Wang Yuanze interprets this as the ceaseless vitality of spirit and feminine principle—appearing yet disappearing, elusive to grasp. These teachings guide Dao practitioners to comprehend the Great Dao through breath regulation and spirit cultivation.

This scripture primarily discusses the principle of "using without exhaustion" (yòng zhī bù qín) and the "endurance of heaven and earth."

Regarding "using without exhaustion," it means that when employing one's vital energy (Qi), one must maintain a relaxed and natural state, avoiding forced or hurried exertion. Like an eternal flame that never extinguishes, this application should be continuous yet subtle—present yet imperceptible. The transformations of heaven and earth operate spontaneously, without deliberate striving. Heshang Gong (a key Daoist commentator) explains that the use of Qi should be gentle and unhurried, never exhausting oneself. Su Zhe (Su Ziyou) adds that though this state is ceaseless, it does not induce fatigue; the key lies in maintaining mental tranquility, subtle breathing, and complete alignment with nature without force.

The core teaching here is to cultivate an empty mind and nurture the spirit (Shen), focusing on preserving the "Mysterious Feminine" (Xuánpìn)—the source of life. The Mysterious Feminine is the root of all things in heaven and earth, the origin of Yin-Yang, containing the wondrous power that generates all existence. This generative principle is unceasing, and employing it does not tire one; instead, it leads to accomplishment.

The section on "the endurance of heaven and earth" explains that their lasting existence stems from not acting for their own sake. Su Zhe observes that though heaven and earth are vast, they are still bound by form and measure. Zhang Junxiang (a Daoist thinker) states that heaven (Qian), firm and expansive, shelters all things, while earth (Kun), yielding and substantial, bears all things—thus they endure unchanged through time.

Wang Pang (Wang Yuanze) clarifies that deliberately seeking survival leads instead to losing life; only by not clinging to existence can one truly endure. Heaven and earth do not strive for their own survival, nor do they intentionally pursue longevity—this is simply the natural Dao. Zhang Junxiang further explains that all beings act for their own benefit, yet heaven and earth only nurture creation without seeking gain for themselves, thus attaining true permanence.

This passage elucidates the worldly wisdom of sages (those who have attained the Dao): they consciously retreat behind others, yet ultimately lead the multitude; appearing to disregard their own selves, they paradoxically preserve their lives.

The Imperial Commentary explains: When all people rush forward competitively, the sage willingly remains behind, like the capacity to contain the world's impurities. This practice of "remaining behind" constitutes non-contention with all things, with the result that none in the world can contend with them. It resembles traveling without competing for dangerous or smooth paths, like winter and summer not contending over temperature balance. Transcending calculations of life and death, fortune and misfortune, the spirit can never be confined—this is the principle of "disregarding the self yet preserving the self."

Ma Juji interprets: The sage emulates the laws of heaven and earth. What is called "remaining behind" means humbling oneself, while "disregarding the self" means forgetting one's ego. Willingly yielding precedence ultimately leads to leadership; forgetting oneself paradoxically preserves life.

Precisely because they lack selfishness, they ultimately achieve self-fulfillment. The Imperial Commentary observes: Heaven and earth's greatest virtue (De) lies in nurturing life, while the sage's most precious quality is maintaining their fundamental position. Those who attain the Dao act with impartiality—heaven and earth follow the Dao's selflessness, and through selflessness achieve permanence; sages emulate the Dao's selflessness, and through selflessness attain endurance. Those who focus solely on personal gain cannot truly fulfill themselves.

Lü Jifu states: The body is originally our private possession, but the ability to yield and transcend it reaches the realm of great impartiality. This very selflessness achieves true self-realization.

Ma Juji further elaborates: Heaven and earth do not exist for themselves; sages neither strive for precedence nor cling to their selves—both manifest selflessness. Yet heaven and earth thereby achieve eternity, and sages thereby attain endurance, both fulfilling the greatest "self-interest." As Zhuangzi said, "What appears as selflessness is actually true self-interest."

The chapter's core teaching is: Those who attain the Dao emulate heaven and earth's impartiality. Heaven and earth achieve permanence through selflessness; sages attain endurance through selflessness. Those preoccupied with personal gain cannot preserve themselves. Practitioners who comprehend the Dao's impartiality and refrain from selfish attachments can similarly attain enduring life.