《道德真經取善集》Vol. 2

Chapter 8 of the Daode Jing ("The Highest Good is Like Water") illustrates how supreme virtue resembles water. Song Dynasty scholar Li Lin, in his Collected Goodness from the Authentic Daode Jing, synthesized interpretations from multiple commentators:

Water serves as the metaphor for ultimate goodness because it embodies three qualities that approach the Dao. First, water nourishes all things without seeking reward—this is its benevolent De (Virtue). Second, water adapts to the shape of its container and flows around obstacles—this demonstrates its virtue of non-contention. Third, water always seeks the lowest place, willingly occupying positions others disdain—this reveals its capacity for inclusiveness.

Concretely, "the highest good is like water" manifests in seven aspects: (1) "Dwelling in good places"—water naturally settles in low-lying areas, just as virtuous people willingly take humble positions; (2) "The heart/mind is good at depths"—when still, water becomes unfathomably deep, symbolizing the sage's profound and tranquil mental state, undisturbed by external influences; (3) "Giving with good benevolence"—water moistens all things equally, reflecting the sage's impartial and selfless love.

Su Zhe (Su Ziyou) explains that "Heaven first produces water" (in Daoist cosmology, water heads the Five Phases) just as the Dao's movement generates goodness, with Qi naturally transforming into water. Water's characteristics most closely resemble the Dao because once separated from the Dao's origin, the concept of "goodness" arises. Both Cao Daochong and Wang Pang (Wang Yuanze) emphasize that the sage's mind resembles still deep pools—though surface ripples may appear, the depths remain eternally calm and clear, inwardly transparent yet outwardly reserved.

These commentaries reveal that true goodness isn't forced but flows naturally like water, nourishing all while maintaining humility and non-contention. These qualities of water precisely represent what Dao cultivators should emulate.

Ma Juji explains that the essence of goodness lies in helping others, just as water nourishes all things and embodies benevolent virtue (De). Those who possess virtuous goodness will attain water-like qualities of compassion, hence the saying "aligns with benevolent goodness" (yu shan ren). Wherever water flows, it moistens and nourishes all beings, enabling their growth. Those of lofty virtue act similarly—like water, they generously bestow kindness, benefiting all without seeking reward. This is the true meaning of "aligns with benevolent goodness."

Regarding "speech embodies trustworthiness" (yan shan xin), the Imperial Commentary explains that water navigates around obstacles to merge with the sea, enduring hardships without altering its fundamental nature. Lu Dian adds that despite traversing countless dangers, water remains steadfast in its eastward flow, exemplifying the principle of "speech embodies trustworthiness."

On "governance achieves order" (zheng shan zhi), the Imperial Commentary notes water’s ability to purify filth and level uneven terrain, following natural patterns without forced effort. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang states that governance should be as clear as water cleansing impurities, while Wang Bi argues that good governance must be as pure and impartial as water. Liu Zhongping interprets this as using water’s nature to metaphorize the governance of virtuous individuals.

Concerning "action demonstrates adaptability" (shi shan neng), the Imperial Commentary describes how water bends with the land’s contours and takes the shape of its container, appearing formless yet always maintaining balance. Su Zhe remarks that water adapts effortlessly to its surroundings, and those of supreme goodness (shang shan) should likewise flow with circumstances—this is the essence of "action demonstrates adaptability."

"Movement follows timeliness" (dong shan shi) refers to water’s seasonal transformations: melting in spring, freezing in winter; flowing east when guided east, west when guided west. The Compiled Subtleties concludes that the perfected person (zhiren, one who attains the Dao) excels in maintaining humility. Like water flowing downward to naturally nourish all things, this is "dwelling in good places" (ju shan di). By preserving inner stillness—mirroring a deep pool’s clarity to reflect the changes of all phenomena—one grasps the root of cultivation.

This passage expounds on water's seven virtuous qualities and how humans should emulate its nature.

The text first enumerates water's seven virtues: First is "the heart's goodness lies in depth," referring to the sage's mind being as clear and placid as a deep pool. Second is "giving with benevolent kindness," like water nourishing all things impartially. Third is "speaking with trustworthy honesty," reflecting truth as water mirrors all things. Fourth is "governing with orderly clarity," cleansing impurities as water purifies. Fifth is "handling affairs with adaptable ability," shaping itself to any vessel like water's formlessness. Sixth is "acting with timely movement," freezing in winter and flowing in summer in perfect rhythm. Seventh is "non-contention" (Wuwei) — because it does not contend, it remains blameless.

Su Zhe (known as Ziyou) comments that precisely because water does not compete with others, it can embody these seven virtues without incurring resentment. This chapter uses water's characteristics to illustrate how truly virtuous individuals should emulate its ways: benefiting all beings, remaining soft and non-contentious, willingly occupying lowly positions.

The subsequent section on "holding a full vessel" conveys worldly wisdom: carrying an overfilled basin risks spillage, so one should know when to stop; displaying sharp edges makes durability difficult, so one should retract one's锋芒. Lü Huiqing (styled Jifu) explains that deliberately maintaining fullness makes spillage more likely — to prevent overflow, one must understand moderation. Sima Guang (posthumously titled Duke of Wen) observes that excessive display of intelligence ultimately invites loss. These teachings collectively warn people to understand moderation and restraint.

This passage expounds the Daoist principle of knowing when to stop in human affairs. Those who are skilled at gauging others' intentions and flaunting their sharpness may quickly gain fame and fortune, but such gains can never be maintained for long. Like a hall filled to overflowing with gold and jewels (the "hall" here symbolizes the space that contains all things), excessive accumulation inevitably invites disaster—whether from natural causes or human conflicts.

Wealth and status are not inherently negative, but arrogance arising from them will surely bring calamity. Those who are truly noble and wealthy should understand the importance of aiding the poor and showing compassion for the weak. If one becomes domineering and indulgent due to wealth and power, misfortune will naturally follow. This is akin to how an overly sharpened sword becomes brittle and prone to breaking, or how climbing too high makes the fall more dangerous.

The Dao of Heaven operates through the principle that extreme prosperity must yield to decline: when the sun reaches its zenith, it begins to descend; when the moon becomes full, it starts to wane. Therefore, when one's achievements are complete and fame is at its peak, the wise know to withdraw at the height of success. Fame and merit are like flowers—at their most glorious bloom, one should already anticipate their fading. Only by retreating in accordance with the Heavenly Dao at the appropriate time can one avoid being entangled by misfortune. The core teaching of this chapter warns humanity: do not be insatiable in pursuing wealth and honor, nor become arrogant by relying on privileged status.

The Daode Zhenjing Qushan Ji discusses the relationship between the soul (hun) and the corporeal soul (po), as well as the harmony of form and spirit (shen), exploring how cultivation can achieve unity of body and mind. Here is a modern interpretation:

Regarding the passage "Holding fullness is not as good as stopping early", the meaning is this: Pursuing perfection is inferior to knowing when to stop. Excessive sharpness inevitably leads to setbacks. A house filled with gold and silver becomes difficult to protect, and pride born of wealth and status invites disaster. After achieving merit and fame, one should not dwell on accomplishments. Understanding that yielding brings gain aligns with the natural law of the Dao.

In the chapter "Carrying the hun and po", ancient scholars deeply examined the relationship between the soul and corporeal soul:

Wang Yuanze explains: The po is yin in nature and governs the physical form. The spirit (shen) is originally vast and unobstructed, but because it depends on the po (the body), it becomes constrained by form. To cultivate this path, one must first expand the mind, refusing to be bound by the body. Let the spirit govern the form rather than be governed by it—only then can one achieve the state of "embracing the One" (maintaining unity of body and mind).

Ma Juji holds that human life consists of the hun (yang) and po (yin), which reside between the liver and lungs. The po follows the movement of essence (jing) and qi, while the hun follows the activity of the spirit. Here, the term "ying" refers to the hun. The Neiguan Jing states that the hun governs the body's functional movements, while the po governs physical transformations. Without the hun's operation, the body would be like a walking corpse. The po cannot be separated from the hun, just as the moon cannot exist without the sun.

On the phrase "Can you embrace the One and not let go?":

Wang Anshi interprets the "One" as essence-qi (jingqi). Once the hun and po are complete, essence-qi arises, and with the emergence of essence-qi, the spirit follows.

Wang Yuanze considers the "One" to represent the nature of essence-qi. Rather than speaking of "essence" (jing), the text refers to the "One" because holding fast to the "One" prevents the dissipation of essence-qi.

Ma Juji states that although the hun and po are distinct, the key lies in maintaining the state of "One." The Dao gives birth to the "One," the "One" gives birth to water, and water gives birth to essence—thus, essence is the manifestation of the "One." Holding the "One" allows unity with essence; losing it leads to separation. When essence-qi is abundant, primordial qi (yuanqi) remains whole.

These interpretations revolve around a central theme: By harmonizing the relationship between hun and po and preserving the unity of essence, qi, and spirit, one attains the ideal state of Daoist cultivation.

This passage discusses the relationship between Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) in Daoist cultivation, and how to attain immortality through practice.

First, let's clarify several core concepts: Jing is the fundamental substance from which all things in heaven and earth are formed. The corporeal soul (Po), belonging to Yin, governs physical form, while Shen dominates mental activities. The key to cultivation lies in "embracing unity" — integrating Jing, Shen, and physical form into one. Specifically, one must use Shen to govern the physical form while letting the form contain Shen. When these three merge completely, one attains the Dao (the Way). Zhuangzi's saying, "Those who never separate from Jing are called divine persons," teaches the importance of nurturing essence.

Next comes the cultivation method of "concentrating Qi to achieve softness." One should become as pure and pliant as an infant, undisturbed by emotions like joy or anger, maintaining Qi in a unified and peaceful state. Here, "concentration" means complete mastery over Qi, while "softness" refers to harmony without harshness. The example of an infant crying all day without becoming hoarse illustrates the ultimate state of harmony, teaching how to nourish Qi.

"Cleansing the mysterious mirror" describes the method of nurturing Shen. The "mysterious mirror" refers to the heart-mind, and "cleansing" means purifying it, emptying all thoughts. Wash until complete tranquility is achieved, empty until perfect stillness is attained, making the heart-mind flawlessly pure. Zhuangzi's statement, "Pure and unadulterated, serene and unchanging," teaches this method of cultivating spirit.

Finally, the passage touches on principles of governance: To cultivate the body, one must cherish primordial Qi to preserve health; to govern a state, one must cherish the people to ensure stability. Here, personal cultivation and statecraft share the same principle, both emphasizing Wuwei (non-action) — following nature's course without forcing outcomes.

This scripture primarily discusses the way of self-cultivation and governing a state, with its core philosophy being "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." For personal cultivation, one should treat their body as one would govern a country: the body is likened to a nation, the heart-mind is the ruler, and the essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) are the people. To maintain bodily health, the key lies in cherishing one's essence and vital energy, and the fundamental method for doing so is "embracing the One" (maintaining mental focus and unity)—this is the natural way of the Dao.

A common mistake among those cultivating essence and vital energy is the deliberate pursuit of various techniques and methods. The scripture reminds practitioners to adhere to the principle of "non-action." As Zhuangzi said, only through non-action can one come close to the Dao. The commentary by Heshang Gong (a renowned Han Dynasty Daoist commentator) particularly emphasizes that this principle must be applied both internally and externally.

Regarding the "opening and closing of the Celestial Gate" (referring to the pathways of energy exchange between the human body and heaven and earth), those who truly attain the Dao do not forcibly control their breath but instead follow natural rhythms. When cultivating vital energy, one should avoid forcefully directing Qi and instead adopt the gentleness of the feminine principle.

Upon reaching the state of "illuminating clarity in all directions" (a state of profound wisdom and understanding), one must paradoxically relinquish cleverness and intellect, maintaining a simple and unassuming mindset. This is done to preserve the purity and untainted nature of the spirit (Shen).

Finally, the scripture speaks of "profound virtue (Xuande)": the sage nurtures all things without claiming possession, accomplishes all things without boasting, and guides all things without seeking to dominate. This virtue is deep and mysterious, contrary to the behavior of ordinary people.

Chapter Eleven uses three metaphors to illustrate the function of "emptiness": the spokes of a wheel converge at the hollow hub, a clay vessel's usefulness lies in its empty space, and a house is habitable because of the emptiness of its doors and windows. These examples demonstrate how "emptiness" (non-being) gives rise to practical utility.

The Daode Zhenjing Qushan Ji primarily elucidates the dialectical relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu). The author illustrates through everyday objects that the utility of tangible things like cart wheels, vessels, and houses (being) fundamentally depends on their hollow spaces (non-being). For instance, a wheel's hub must be hollow to rotate, a vessel's interior must be empty to hold contents, and a house requires doors and windows—void spaces—to be habitable.

Zhong Hui explains that while tangible forms (being) provide practical benefits, intangible emptiness (non-being) generates subtle functions—the two are interdependent. Just as a wheel axle requires hollowness to turn, the empty space itself needs physical form to exist. Practitioners of the Dao must grasp this principle: neither clinging to form nor indulging in emptiness, but achieving unity of form and spirit (xing-shen).

The text specifically notes two common errors in cultivation: either focusing solely on spiritual refinement while neglecting the physical body ("obscured by non-being"), or concentrating only on bodily nourishment while ignoring the spirit ("drowning in being"). True Dao attainment resembles the synergy seen in wheels, vessels, and houses—where form and spirit cooperate perfectly—only then can one merge with the Dao.

The subsequent "Five Colors Chapter" warns against sensory desires: excessive pursuit of colors dulls vision (eyes go blind), indulgence in music impairs hearing (ears go deaf), and gluttony numbs taste (palate grows stale). This cautions that indulging sensory pleasures ultimately damages the very faculties they stimulate.

Wang Yuanze said that humans are inherently pure and tranquil by nature, but become altered by external influences. The ears and eyes should maintain a state of empty stillness (referring to the Daoist concept of "Xiyi" - the void-like state of the Dao), yet when confronted with sensual temptations, one's true nature becomes obscured by illusions. The mouth's craving for delicacies follows the same pattern.

Activities like horseback riding and hunting can drive people's minds to madness. Lü Jifu explained that only when nothing in the world can disturb one's heart can one maintain the pure stillness of sagehood. Chasing after external objects leads to loss of reason and madness. Hunting is particularly prone to making people lose their original nature - just as Emperor Taikang of Xia dynasty's hunting by the Luo River led to the rebellion of the Five Princes, and Duke Ai of Lu's hunting obsession drew poetic satire. These examples of indulging in hunting and losing one's fundamental nature - can they not be called madness?

Rare and precious objects corrupt human virtue. The Imperial Commentary notes that coveting treasures drives people to pursue wealth at the expense of their lives - how then can they preserve their De (virtue/power)? Zhong Hui, the virtuous minister of Shang Tang, praised his ruler for not hoarding goods, while Confucius criticized Zigong for abandoning his proper role to engage in commerce - both illustrating how material goods harm virtue. Those luminous pearls and precious jades only invite disaster, as Mencius said: "Disaster surely befalls those who treasure pearls and jade."

Therefore, the sage cultivates inner nourishment (wei fu - "acting through the belly") rather than chasing sensory pleasures (bu wei mu - "not acting through the eyes"). Zhong Hui explained that when genuine Qi (the internal energy of Daoist cultivation) fills the body, this is "acting through the belly"; eliminating desires is "not acting through the eyes." Just as the five tones can damage hearing, the sage chooses to cultivate the inner self rather than indulge the senses. "Acting through the belly" means preserving one's Shen (spirit) and enriching genuine Qi, while "not acting through the eyes" means controlling the six emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, love, and hate), keeping the eyes from random gazing.

Thus one must reject external temptations and choose inner cultivation. Heshang Gong (the commentator on the Dao De Jing) said we must abandon the greedy gaze of the eyes and choose to nurture spirit with the belly. The eyes look outward while the belly contains inwardly. Sages are not driven by their eyes and ears, so they reject external visual pleasures in favor of the all-encompassing inner cultivation. Although sages purify all six roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind), the text particularly mentions "not acting through the eyes" because they are most representative. This chapter discusses the dangers of the five worldly temptations (form, sound, scent, taste, and touch), showing how we should forget external things to preserve true nature - the sage's way of choosing is thus revealed.

Chapter Thirteen discusses favor and disgrace, gain and loss. Wang Anshi said that favor becomes disgrace precisely because it makes people anxious and unsettled. Ma Juqi pointed out that favor is the root of disgrace, as it always involves the tension between gain and loss.

This passage discusses the principles of "favor and disgrace" (宠辱) and "the perils of high status" (贵患). Being favored by others actually causes greater anxiety, because such favor is essentially akin to disgrace. What we call favor refers to when someone of lower status receives grace from a superior—while it may bring surface-level honor, it creates spiritual unease. This is why we say favor is actually a form of humiliation.

Regarding "valuing great calamity as one values the body" (贵大患若身), this means that elevated status brings corresponding great misfortunes. Those in high positions who take pride in being favored will inevitably invite disgrace; those who perceive their status as a burden will face even greater calamities. It's like the human body—every movement creates its own constraints.

Why is favor considered "lowly" (宠为下)? Those who crave fame and pursue rank know only advancement, not retreat; they understand acquisition but not relinquishment. Receiving favor is inherently a subordinate position, because it means the power over gain and loss lies with others. To have one's spirit swayed by such gains and losses—isn't this foolish? Consider Ziwen, who was appointed to office three times and dismissed three times without showing any change in expression—this is how one avoids disgrace. Being alarmed when gaining favor and distressed when losing it—this is what we call "being startled by favor and disgrace as if in fear" (宠辱若惊).

Sima Guang observed that true scholars should value virtue (德) above all and regard rank and emolument as secondary. Ordinary people, however, treat disgrace as honor—trembling when they gain something and grieving when they lose it. In truth, what we gain was already ours, and what we lose never truly belonged to us—why then should we be alarmed? Consider Liuxia Hui, who was demoted three times yet never left his post, or Zheng Kaofu, who received three appointments with equal reverence—they differed from ordinary people.

As for "valuing great calamity as one values the body"—those who wield power and control rewards and punishments are feared by all as if they were divine. But sages are not burdened by their noble status, thus they can maintain their dignity long without calamity. It's like when a person transcends physical constraints, discards cleverness and knowledge, and merges with the Dao (道)—then they find ease in any circumstance. Ordinary people trade their innate nature for external things, becoming enslaved by possessions; when the mind is bound by the physical form, one loses their original heart. Herein lies the great calamity.

Wang Yuanze remarked that the noble stand above all things, possessing states and families—yet if they constantly dwell on these, these very things become their great misfortune. Just as people who cherish their bodies excessively become constrained by them.

The text explains that the root of human suffering and affliction lies in excessive attachment to one's physical body and desires. Master Heshang Gong clarifies that our greatest troubles arise precisely because we possess this body. With a body comes worry over toil, concern for warmth and sustenance, and being driven by desires that easily invite misfortune. The body itself is the source of distress—over-attachment to it brings grave problems.

The concept of "no-self" (transcending bodily attachment), as Cai Zihuang explains, does not mean destroying the body, but rather not identifying it as the totality of "me," reaching a state where both self and objects are forgotten. This resembles Confucius speaking of "the mother-given body" or Ziqi's notion of "losing the small self"—possessing a body yet not clinging to it.

What is truly precious are those who regard governing the world with the same care as tending their own bodies—only such individuals can be entrusted with the world. The Imperial Commentary explains that the world is a sacred vessel that only those following the Dao can properly govern. The sages understood this principle, hence their ability to rule through wuwei (non-action). Ordinary people who cherish their bodies without becoming enslaved by external things may at least bear partial responsibility. Wang Bi adds that only those unshaken by favor or disgrace, gain or loss can shoulder the world's burdens.

Like ancient worthies such as Zizhou Zhifu and Prince Sou, they did not covet wealth and honor. Forgetting vanity brings immunity to disgrace; transcending bodily attachment eliminates distress. Only by first relinquishing these burdens can one truly care for oneself and subsequently undertake the responsibility of governing the world.