《道德真經取善集》Vol. 5

This passage presents an annotated compilation of interpretations for Chapter 28 of the Daode Jing ("Knowing the Male, Guarding the Female"). Several Daoist scholars elucidate the essential practice of embracing softness and maintaining humility from different perspectives.

One should understand the principle of masculine vigor (xiong), yet abide in the state of feminine gentleness (ci). Du Guangting (a Tang dynasty master) explains that the Shangqing (Highest Clarity) tradition possesses cultivation methods called "the Way of the Feminine One" and "Three Ascensions with Five Feminine Principles," both achieved through softening the will and calming the spirit (shen) to attain longevity.

Be like a mountain stream that humbly embraces all. Wang Yuanze (a Song dynasty scholar) observes that because the stream occupies the lowest position, it can receive a hundred rivers. Guarding the feminine means maintaining a tranquil mind that accepts all things without being entangled by external objects. The perfected person (zhiren) understands the principles of movement and stillness, neither chasing external agitation nor abandoning inner stillness—thus the Dao naturally gathers like water returning to deep ravines.

As the valley stream of the world, eternal Virtue (De) will never be lost. Lü Jifu (a Song dynasty Daoist) compares this to how a stream receives water from mountain valleys and delivers it to rivers and seas—rejecting nothing, clinging to nothing—this unimpeded state embodies "constant Virtue never departing." Wang Yuanze adds that constant Virtue represents the unchanging fundamental nature of the Dao; by preserving this essence, one achieves unity of inner and outer.

Return to the pure state of an infant. Wang Yuanze describes how infants preserve innate qi (the vital energy Daoists believe humans are born with), free from acquired desires and distractions, their original nature intact and undispersed—this simple, profound Virtue is closest to the source. As Mencius said, "The virtuous never lose their childlike heart." An infant's pliant sinews and balanced breath exemplify "the thickness of embodied Virtue."

Know the brilliance of illumination, yet abide in obscure humility. Wang Yuanze explains that black symbolizes the north and stillness, yet stillness alone cannot capture its essence. Just as the vitality of spring and summer actually germinates in the profound winter (xuan dong). Lü Jifu further interprets through the Five Phases (wuxing): white represents manifestation (associated with Metal), black symbolizes containment (associated with Water). "Knowing white yet guarding black" means remaining uncontaminated by external things, ultimately achieving "embracing the One" (baoyi, union with the Dao).

This scripture expounds the conduct principles a Daoist practitioner should follow. By bending oneself, one can encompass all things; by being low-lying, one can gather all streams. Thus the sage becomes the model for all under heaven through humility and gentleness.

To understand principles yet refrain from flaunting (what is white signifies clarity), to remain silent yet penetrate celestial mysteries (what is black signifies quietude) — the true Dao-realized person comprehends this principle, thereby preserving their original heart-mind and becoming the exemplar for the world. As the model for all under heaven, eternal De (Virtue) remains flawless (changde bute). Lü Jifu explains that by consistently following Dao's principles in all matters, De naturally becomes perfect and complete.

The scripture mentions "returning to the Wuji (Limitless)," meaning to revert to Dao's primordial state. Lü Jifu clarifies that while infants possess purity, they haven't yet attained this realm. Kumarajiva further explains that "Wuji" contains two meanings: first, wisdom without limits; second, life unified with Dao.

To know glory yet willingly dwell in humility (zhiqi rong shou qi ru) — Du Guangting illustrates this with rulers who, though noble, refer to themselves as "the solitary and unworthy" (ancient royal modest titles), embodying this state. Wang Anshi adds that such humility resembles a valley's receptive emptiness, thus becoming the gathering place for all under heaven (wei tianxia gu).

Liu Zhongping explains that valleys can be empty, responsive, inclusive, and enduring — only thus can De become complete. Su Shi observes that true enlightenment isn't ignorance, but knowing without forceful pursuit. To recognize strength yet abide in gentleness (zhi xiong shou ci), to perceive truth yet maintain silence (zhi bai shou hei), to dwell in glory yet embrace humility (zhi rong shou ru) — by eliminating all delusions, De can return to its original, simple state (fu gui yu pu).

The immortal Songling summarizes: "Zu (sufficiency)" refers to De's completeness, "fu (return)" means reversion, and "pu (uncarved block)" represents Dao's original face. From recognizing strength to abiding in humility, these threefold practices constitute essential cultivation. Like an empty valley's receptive heart-mind, only then can one merge with eternal Dao.

This passage speaks of the state of returning to original purity and uniting with the Dao. When a person completely returns to the most pristine state (true emptiness), they can merge with the Great Dao—this is what's called "returning to the uncarved block" (fu gui yu pu), being as pure and natural as unworked wood.

When vegetation flourishes, it appears glorious; when it withers, it seems lowly. The worldly pursuits of honor and disgrace, gain and loss, are ultimately as illusory as the flourishing and withering of plants. Those who have attained the Dao (zhiren) understand glory but do not cling to it, abandoning superficial splendor to return to the root and source, willingly dwelling in the humble position that others disdain. This state resembles an empty valley—vast and receptive, it can contain all things, and when virtue (De) reaches its peak, nothing more can be added.

The "uncarved block" (pu) represents the complete state of the Dao. Just as ancient kings referred to themselves as "solitary, undeserving, and unworthy" (gu gua bu gu), maintaining this simple nature actually draws the world to them. What seems like a small, simple nature is in fact something no being in the world can dominate. Therefore, in cultivating the Dao, one need only maintain a state of softness, obscurity, and humility—there's no need to pursue strength, prominence, or glory. Treat simplicity as the root (mother) and cleverness as the branches (offspring); take simplicity as the constant Dao and cleverness as expedient means.

When the simple nature disperses, it forms concrete things (qi). The Dao is the formless root, while things are the tangible manifestations. Sages (those who have attained the Dao) can use the complete Dao to cultivate themselves and apply its dispersed aspects to governing the world. Like rulers establishing offices to manage affairs, what appears as division is actually naturally harmonious—this governance seems divided yet remains whole (great governance does not cut apart).

The annotations of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Tang Minghuang) point out that internal cultivation of virtue leads back to simplicity, while its external application manifests in concrete actions. Once involved in practical matters, distinctions between refined and coarse inevitably arise, so sages establish officials to manage them. As Su Shi (Su Ziyou) said, sages return to simplicity and then transform it into practical function, just as rulers appoint officials, following natural tendencies without forcibly dividing the whole.

Cao Daochong (a Daoist master of the Northern Song Dynasty) explains: The most perfect governance resembles natural growth, leaving no traces of artificial intervention. The essence of this chapter lies in maintaining constant De (Virtue/Power). By holding fast to this fundamental principle, one can remain stable amidst change.

Those who understand strength yet abide in softness will find their De never deviates; those who comprehend brightness yet dwell in obscurity will find their De never diminishes; those who know glory yet embrace humility will find their De becomes complete. Attaining this state not only returns one to the purity of an infant but also unites one with the eternal Dao. The Dao permeates all time, and only when De aligns with the Dao can it be called "constant virtue."

This true Dao first serves to cultivate the self, then governs the world according to the nature of all things—hence the saying "perfect governance does not carve up nature."

Regarding the passage about "those who wish to seize and forcibly govern the world," commentators offer various insights: Zang Xuanjing (a Tang Dynasty Daoist) observes this describes those who attempt to conquer the world by force upon their first impulse; Wang Yuanze (a Song Dynasty scholar) argues such "seizing" and "forcing" stem from self-centeredness—such troubled individuals can hardly govern others when they themselves are trapped in anxiety. Su Zhe (Northern Song literatus) emphasizes that when sages attain the world, it's through the natural submission of all beings; their governance merely follows nature and removes harm rather than acting deliberately. Like Emperor Shun inheriting Yao's throne—it wasn't taken by force, and his "governance through wuwei (non-action)" wasn't contrived either.

The Imperial Commentary employs a vessel metaphor: How can physical containers (representing artificial systems) bear the sacred weight of the world? Only the "formless vessel" (the Dao-perfected person) can govern all things. The Zhuangzi records the parable where the Nameless Sage rebukes one inquiring about "governing the world" as shallow—for forced action inevitably fails, and stubborn control leads to loss. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) concludes: Deliberate action destroys nature, while obstinacy violates the principle of adaptability.

Between heaven and earth, those marvelous and profound phenomena cannot be obtained through brute force or stubborn grasping. All things follow their inherent nature—we should accord with it rather than forcibly alter it, guide it but never control it. Everything operates according to constant principles; artificial interference inevitably leads to failure. All phenomena wax and wane—to cling obstinately is to surely lose them.

Just as the movement of all things follows its own Dao (the Way): sometimes advancing, sometimes following; sometimes warm, sometimes cold; sometimes strong, sometimes weak; sometimes sustaining, sometimes destroying. Like the sun and moon alternating their courses, the four seasons cycling in turn, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) taking their seasonal dominance, or plants growing and withering—these are all natural patterns governed by temporal rhythms and inherent laws. Only sages can transcend the constraints of external things, standing independently above all phenomena, coming and going freely. This is the true state of "solitary possession." Those who attain this realm are most revered, for they can effortlessly wield the sacred vessel (referring to the authority of governance), maintaining inner serenity amidst the world's ceaseless transformations.

To act through force invites failure; to grasp stubbornly ensures loss. Like shadows following forms, warmth inevitably yielding to cold, strength giving way to weakness, and achievement preceding decline—these are fundamental principles of heaven and earth's creative process, as natural as day and night, the inevitable course of all things. How could they be obtained through coercion or control?

Therefore, the sage guards against three extremes: excess, extravagance, and overreach. Heshang Gong (Han dynasty commentator) explains: Excess refers to indulgence in sensual pleasures, extravagance to the pursuit of lavish clothing and gourmet food, overreach to the excessive construction of palaces and towers. By distancing from these three extremes, maintaining the harmony of the Middle Way, and governing through Wuwei (non-action), the world naturally becomes well-ordered.

Lu Dian (Song dynasty scholar) observes: The sage governs the world by following nature without forcing, trusting all things without controlling. Guarding against excess embodies benevolence, against extravagance embodies frugality, against overreach embodies humility. These three principles are the essence of the sage's governance.

This chapter teaches us: The world cannot be seized through force, nor governed through deliberate striving. If force could seize the world, how could we understand that sages only govern when compelled by necessity? If deliberate action could rule, how could we comprehend that sages govern through Wuwei (non-action)?

Those who assist rulers with the Dao never presume upon military might to dominate the world. The use of arms inevitably invites retribution. As Su Zhe (Su Ziyou) explained, when sages resort to warfare, it is always out of absolute necessity. Those who seek to conquer the world through force without such necessity may achieve temporary victory, but calamity will ultimately rebound upon them. Rulers like King Ling of Chu, King Min of Qi, Qin Shihuang, and Emperor Wu of Han—some met violent deaths themselves, while others brought disaster upon their descendants. Hated by mankind and loathed by spirits, none escaped retribution.

A true minister assists his sovereign with the Dao. To presume upon military strength is to serve one's ruler through misguided means. Even those who assist with the Dao dare not seek hegemony through arms—how much less should rulers who cultivate the Dao themselves? This is precisely because military force invites retaliation. When the Dao brings the world to submission, people yield willingly; when coercion is used, those who kill fathers will have their own fathers killed, and those who slay brothers will have their own brothers slain. This is what is meant by "as you sow, so shall you reap."

Where armies encamp, brambles grow; after great battles, years of famine follow. Warfare exhausts the people's strength, leaving fields untended; it violates the natural order, bringing forth calamity. The Book of Odes says, "When all states are at peace, bumper harvests come year after year." When nations are tranquil, hearts are harmonious; when hearts are harmonious, Heaven and Earth respond in kind.

War devastates agriculture, leaving fields unplowed and overgrown with weeds. Excessive slaughter disrupts the harmony between Heaven and Earth, inevitably bringing natural disasters. First comes agricultural ruin, then calamity follows—years of famine are certain to arrive.

Therefore, those skilled in warfare stop when their aim is achieved, never presuming upon their strength. As Lü Huiqing (Lü Jifu) explained, "achieving the aim" (果) means overcoming the enemy. Tang's defeat of Jie at the Battle of Mingtiao, which began his rise from Bo, exemplifies overcoming the enemy. Yet this was done out of necessity, not presumption.

"Fruit" (果) signifies victory, but after conquering the Xia dynasty, Tang returned to Bo with remorse, maintaining vigilance as if standing on the edge of an abyss. Thus: be not arrogant in victory, boast not in triumph, grow not proud in success—recognize that victory comes only through necessity. This is the principle of achieving one's aim without presumption.

Lü Jifu (a Daoist thinker) explains: When one truly achieves success, one should not boast of one's abilities; when one attains a goal, one should not flaunt one's merits. For genuine success is often achieved under circumstances of necessity—this is the way of success that accords with the Dao (the Way). If, after succeeding, one boasts of abilities, flaunts merits, and becomes arrogant, this is forcing success rather than allowing it to arise naturally.

Wang Yuanze (another commentator) adds: When things reach their peak, they inevitably decline—this is the natural order. The fall of the Qin dynasty in history serves as the clearest example. Just as an army that relies excessively on force will ultimately fail, things that become too strong will inevitably decline—none of this aligns with the principles of the Dao.

The Dao is eternal and unchanging; it does not shift with the transformations of things. Those who truly comprehend the Dao can embrace all changes without clinging to any single thing, and thus they do not distinguish between prosperity and decline.

Lü Jifu further elaborates: The developmental pattern of all things moves from weakness to strength and then to decay. Yet the preciousness of the Dao lies in maintaining softness and weakness, which allows for lasting endurance. If one uses force to conquer the world, one abandons the wisdom of softness in pursuit of superficial strength—such strength will inevitably decline. How can this be considered in accordance with the Dao? Thus, the scripture states that "when things reach their prime, they age"—this kind of strength does not align with the Dao and will soon perish.

Those who truly attain the Dao, though they existed in ancient times, do not age, for they can delay decay and preserve their forms. Aging itself is a sign of disharmony with the Dao, just as an army that becomes too powerful will fail. Since it does not accord with the Dao, how can it endure? This chapter primarily admonishes ministers to assist their rulers with the Dao rather than forcibly seizing power through military might. The Dao values overcoming hardness with softness and does not advocate conquering through force—just as things that grow too strong will inevitably decline.

The following chapter (31) states: "Fine weapons are inauspicious objects." Sima Guang (Duke Wen) explains that the more refined the weapon, the greater the harm it inflicts. Commentators add: Those who take pleasure in decorating weapons and armor as playthings are actually glorifying inauspicious objects. "Fine" refers to exquisite craftsmanship, while "auspicious" denotes good fortune. Though well-crafted, weapons remain instruments of violence—they belong to the category of ill omens and should not be excessively adorned.

All things detest warfare, and thus those who possess the Dao do not partake in it. As the commentary notes: Auspicious matters naturally bring good omens, whereas weapons are tools of violence and thus deemed inauspicious. Those who embody the Dao display virtue rather than flaunt military might, and therefore they do not engage in war.

This passage presents profound insights on the art of warfare. Weapons (referring to arms and military forces) are instruments of calamity, much like rigid armor and sharp blades that have since ancient times been regarded as ominous objects. All things suffer harm from weapons, hence people universally detest them. Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) harbor compassion in their hearts and therefore refrain from resorting to force lightly.

Ancient sages held that the left side represents Yang Qi (symbolizing life) while the right represents Yin Qi (symbolizing death). Noble persons normally honor the left in daily life, but during military campaigns they prioritize the right—this implies warfare's connection with slaughter. Weapons are not what noble persons should revere; in governing a state, the noble person should practice Wuwei (non-action, following natural laws), treating the people with benevolence.

Only under absolute necessity should force be employed, just as one retreats first when compelled to engage in battle. Those skilled in warfare act only when left with no alternative, maintaining inner tranquility and detachment (tiandan). Even in victory, they take no pride in it. To deliberately glorify war by embellishing weapons would be tantamount to delighting in killing.

Those who truly understand the Dao regard serene Wuwei (harmony with nature) as the highest ideal, never celebrating the use of military force. Those who take pleasure in killing can never fulfill their aspirations in the world. When violent and bloodthirsty individuals gain power, they inevitably defy the Dao of Heaven and recklessly slaughter the people.

This scripture passage primarily discusses the principles of warfare and attitudes toward military conflict.

Laozi believed that those who take pleasure in killing will not receive heaven's blessing, and such individuals cannot truly rule the world. A ruler must not engage in wanton slaughter. As Mencius stated, only rulers who dislike killing can unify the realm.

In ritual protocol, auspicious occasions honor the left (representing yang and symbolizing life), while inauspicious events honor the right (representing yin and symbolizing death). In military formations, the lieutenant general stands on the left while the commanding general stands on the right—this placement follows funeral rites because the commander bears responsibility for killing in battle.

When engaging in warfare, even victory should be treated with funeral rites. The massive loss of life in war demands solemn mourning for the dead. Ancient victorious generals would don mourning garments and weep from the position of chief mourner, demonstrating how noble people value De (Virtue) above martial prowess. Even when compelled to use military force, they grieve as if conducting funeral rites.

The passage emphasizes that true nobility roots itself in De rather than glorifying military achievements. Those who celebrate martial strength essentially delight in killing. Only by treating war with funeral rites can we properly condemn such behavior.

The conclusion references the concept that "the Dao (Way) is eternally nameless"—the great Dao remains constant yet defies definition. Like the immutable natural laws governing heaven's height, earth's depth, and the sun and moon's radiance, the Dao nurtures all things while maintaining its nameless essence.

All things in the world that can change follow discernible patterns. The movements of the sun, moon, and stars in the heavens (celestial phenomena) I call the laws of the Dao of Heaven; the transformations of mountains, rivers, plants, and trees on earth (earthly phenomena) I call the laws of the Dao of Earth. These outward manifestations can all be described with specific names.

Yet the Dao itself transcends these concrete forms. It governs the birth, death, flourishing, and decline of all things, operating in eternal silence. The Dao is neither Yin nor Yang, neither soft nor hard, neither large nor small, neither round nor square, without color or sound. You cannot see its shape, hear its voice, or grasp it with your hands—this is the state of "constant namelessness" (chang wuming, the eternal without specific form).

The Dao is like uncarved wood (pu), seemingly insignificant yet containing infinite potential. Though formless and shapeless, none in the world dare defy its laws. This primal, wood-like substance of the Dao is the very source from which all things arise.

If a ruler can uphold the Dao, all things will naturally return to it. Because the Dao is the true master of all things, there is no need for coercion through force or enticement through rewards—everything spontaneously aligns with it.

When the Yin and Yang energies of heaven and earth harmonize, sweet dew (ganlu) descends naturally, nourishing all things equally without human intervention. This is the manifestation of one who abides in the Dao and resonates with the cosmos—when a ruler maintains the pure and uncontrived state of Wuwei (non-action), the movements of Yin and Yang naturally fall into order, and the harmonious Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth (symbolized by the sweet dew) showers upon the world. This state of natural harmony is precisely the result of the Dao's operation.

This passage elucidates the function and characteristics of the Dao (the Way) from multiple perspectives. Mencius states that when humans align with the movement of heaven and earth, their influence is far from being a minor benefit. Several commentators use the metaphor of "heaven bestowing sweet dew": when a ruler follows the Dao, just as the harmonious interaction of yin and yang in nature brings forth nourishing dew, the people naturally live in harmony without the need for coercive commands.

Wang Bi points out that when the yin and yang of heaven and earth harmonize, sweet dew naturally descends; similarly, when a ruler maintains authentic non-action (wuwei), the people naturally achieve equilibrium. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) observes that a ruler upholding the Dao can make all things submit, harmonize vital energies (qi), and transform the people. Lü Huiqing (Lü Jifu) explains this through the concept of yin and yang in harmonious interaction: the pure yin energy ascends solemnly while the pure yang energy descends radiantly, their fusion creating a harmonious state that nurtures all things. This invisible principle is like heaven and earth joining to produce sweet dew—when a ruler holds the great Dao, all things naturally return to him in the same way.

Su Zhe (Su Ziyou) further clarifies that the ascending and descending interplay of yin and yang energies resembles sweet dew evenly moistening all things. When sages embody the supreme Dao in responding to the world, they embrace all things with similar impartiality.

Regarding the discussion of "names": when systems of names and distinctions begin to be established, one must know when to stop and return to the nameless, authentic state—only then can danger be avoided. Just as rivers and seas need not summon the hundred streams yet they flow in naturally, or as the great Dao requires no scheming yet the people submit of their own accord, these metaphors illustrate how the Dao possesses the natural capacity to attract all things. A ruler need only follow this innate nature without deliberate striving.

This passage elucidates the relationship between the Dao (the fundamental principle of the universe) and all things. Just as rivers and seas are the gathering place of all streams, the Dao is the source of all beings. The sage maintains pure and complete original nature, thus all beings naturally return to him—this is the natural law of intrinsic nature.

Su Zhe (Su Ziyou) employs the metaphor of water to explain: rivers and seas are the convergence of water, while streams are its branches; the Dao is the root of all things, and all things are its offshoots. Just as streams inevitably flow to the sea, all things must ultimately return to the Dao. When rulers (houwang) uphold the Great Dao, all things naturally submit, like heavenly dew evenly distributed without bias. Because the Dao is what all people follow, and intrinsic nature is shared by all, if the ruler can first grasp this commonality, the world will naturally return to him, just as water flows to the sea—utterly spontaneous.

Regarding the passage "To understand others is wisdom": the ability to know others is wisdom, like eyes that can see far yet cannot see their own lashes; to know oneself is true clarity. The Yijing states, "Only through return can one know oneself," and Sima Guang (Duke Wen) believed that knowing and overcoming oneself is especially difficult. Heshang Gong explains that when a person recognizes their own worth and shortcomings, they are turning inward for reflection. Cheng Xuanying adds that wisdom is the ability to discern others' nature, while clarity is the thorough realization of one's own karmic connections across past, present, and future. True clarity lies in perceiving the subtle aspects of one's nature and understanding the eternal essence of life.

Concerning "To overcome others is strength": Wang Pang (Wang Yuanze) points out that strength can conquer others but rarely conquers oneself. Like the legendary archer Houyi or the mighty warrior Ao from ancient times—both exemplify overcoming others through force. The character for "overcome" (胜) structurally places "strength" (力) below, indicating that relying solely on force is insufficient. The truly strong are those who can overcome themselves.

Wang Yuanze said that one who can conquer oneself is someone who restrains selfish desires, follows the Great Dao (Dao), and diligently nurtures their vital essence (Jing) and energy (Qi). Confucius once remarked of his disciple Cheng: "How can one be strong with excessive desires?" This exemplifies failure to master oneself. Yangzi believed that overcoming selfish desires constitutes true "conquest"—when a person can restrain their cravings, that is genuine strength—not the brute force of contention, but the steadfast power of maintaining gentleness.

Those who know contentment are truly wealthy. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explained that those who understand moderation and avoid insatiable greed may be called rich. Wang Yuanze further elaborated: Within the scope of one's inherent nature, all things are already complete. Neither poverty diminishes this nor prosperity enhances it. Yet foolish people often abandon what is most precious to chase after worthless dregs. Those who truly comprehend that "all things are complete within me" can regard even the whole world lightly. When Mencius said "all things are complete within me," was this not the greatest wealth? The first interpretation views contentment as wealth, while the second considers returning to one's original nature as true abundance.

Only those who persistently practice the Dao possess genuine aspiration. Wang Anshi stated that superior practitioners, upon hearing the Dao, strive diligently to embody it—thus steadfast cultivation constitutes true purpose. If one's ambition seeks empty fame or material gain, it is not real aspiration; only commitment to spiritual cultivation qualifies someone as truly purposeful.

Those who do not lose their root endure. Heshang Gong (an early Daoist commentator) explained that people who regulate and preserve themselves without losing their innate essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi) attain longevity. Wang Yuanze alternatively proposed that when one's nature remains unaffected by external things, it achieves permanence—the state of fully realizing innate nature. Heshang Gong emphasized nurturing essence, while Wang Yuanze focused on cultivating spirit (Shen); combining both approaches yields perfection. The Book of Changes (Yijing) speaks of the Dao of constancy: the noble person establishes themselves without altering fundamental principles, thus achieving endurance.

Physical death without spiritual extinction constitutes true longevity. Wang Bi remarked that though the body perishes, the life-principle embodying the Dao never vanishes—this is complete lifespan. Even when the form is gone, the Dao's operation endures; how much more does it persist when the body remains? Lu Xisheng said that though the body dies, the Dao's operation never ceases, hence it is called longevity. Wang Yuanze distinguished three types of death: the worthy become "ghosts" after death, returning to authentic being; sages become "spirits" (Shen), having already transcended life and death; while fools degenerate into "objects," living as walking corpses. Those who fully realize the Dao and cultivate their spirit undergo myriad transformations of form while their true nature remains eternally clear—this is genuine longevity, the attainment of heavenly mandate.

Lu Dian (a Song Dynasty scholar) remarked that Liezi's concept of "non-transformation," Zhuangzi's notion of "non-death," and Buddhism's teaching of "non-extinction" all convey the same essential meaning. When sages are alive, they are no different from being dead—this is called "Shen (spirit)"; when sages die, they are no different from being alive—this is called "longevity." This illustrates that life and death are fundamentally indistinguishable.

Because life and death are ultimately one, and all things share the same origin, the human body is like the shed shell of a cicada or the sloughed skin of a snake—merely a temporary vessel. Though the cicada's shell dies, the cicada itself does not perish; though the snake's shed skin decays, the snake itself does not vanish. Why? Because the true essence does not vanish even when the physical form dies.

It is also said: Those who attain the Dao (the Way) cannot be burned by fire, drowned by water, harmed by tigers, gored by rhinos, or injured by falling from heights or striking rocks. Though they appear never to die, they are described as "dead but not perished." This is because sages act in accordance with the times—they do not force avoidance when action is needed, nor do they force action when stillness is required, instead following the natural course. Thus, they act when action is appropriate and remain in Wuwei (non-action) when stillness is called for, achieving the state of "living without clinging to life, dying without truly perishing."

Yan Zun (a Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) said: In establishing oneself, governing the world, promoting benefits and eliminating harms, and interacting with others, nothing is more important than knowing people and employing them wisely. In maintaining keen senses, establishing a nation, educating the people, and comprehending the Dao, nothing is more important than self-knowledge. In wielding authority, governing the people, establishing laws, setting rituals, transforming society, issuing decrees, stabilizing the state, and ruling over lords, nothing is more important than surpassing ordinary people. In following the Dao and De (Virtue/Power), aligning with divine will, inheriting the principles of heaven and earth, harmonizing Yin-Yang, and ensuring that all actions—whether movement or stillness, advance or retreat—accord with human hearts, nothing is more important than mastering oneself. In managing a household, safeguarding a state, ensuring the people's well-being, cultivating reverence and obedience, and fostering kindness and filial piety within the law, nothing is more important than contentment.

To wander freely in the realm of light among divine spirits, maintaining serenity and tranquility while attaining honor and glory, nothing surpasses realizing one's aspirations. In holding office, fulfilling duties, serving rulers, managing subordinates, achieving great deeds, preserving traditions, and benefiting all people, nothing is more crucial than endurance. What heaven and earth cherish, what all beings rely upon, what brings unending peace and joy, where all blessings gather and none can compare—nothing is more sublime than longevity. To complete great achievements without claiming credit—this is the highest attainment.

Su Zhe (styled Ziyou, a Song Dynasty literary figure) said: In this world, some people scramble for profit, insisting on taking everything for themselves; others distance themselves from fame and gain, steadfastly refusing to accept them.

The Dao (referring to the cosmic origin and natural order) nourishes all things yet does not dominate them, much like clothing covers the body without restricting its movement. Heshanggong explains that the Dao's nurturing care differs from the possessive desires of human rulers, while Cai Zihuang uses the metaphor of "clothing" to illustrate how the Dao's nourishment envelops all beings—subtle yet omnipresent.

The Dao is eternally free of selfish desires, which is why it may be called "small." Lü Jifu points out that true "greatness" does not deliberately assert itself. Precisely because the Dao claims no merit and exercises no control, it attains a profound and mysterious state. Wang Yuanze further elaborates that this seemingly insignificant condition is actually true greatness, akin to how practitioners, when their minds are pure and free of distractions, can perceive the essence of all things.

When all beings naturally return to it, the Dao still refrains from imposing dominance, and thus it may also be called "great." Wang Yuanze emphasizes that the Dao can distinguish itself from all things in the subtlest details (manifesting its "smallness") while simultaneously merging with them in transformation (manifesting its "greatness"). This quality of being neither purely great nor purely small reflects the different aspects of the Dao's interaction with the myriad things.

Therefore, the sage (one who has attained the Dao) never considers themselves great, yet thereby achieves true greatness. Cheng Xuanying states that sages who embody the Dao forget themselves and embrace all things, remaining humble and yielding without seeking fame, yet they become foremost among all sages. Du Guangting adds that sages both care for all beings in the minutest details (manifesting "smallness") and allow all things to return to their natural state (manifesting "greatness"). This seemingly paradoxical unity is the very expression of the Dao.

This scripture primarily discusses how practitioners of the Dao should emulate the characteristics of the Great Dao (Da Dao) in governing the world and cultivating themselves.

The Great Dao bestows transformation upon all things and imparts virtue (De) to all beings, like a gentle and harmonious wind blowing or a government ruling through clarity and non-action (Wuwei). It claims no merit, possesses nothing, and never exalts itself—thus it achieves such magnificent accomplishments. The sage understands this principle, and therefore his sacred virtue endures through the ages.

Those who cultivate body and mind should be like aimless floating clouds or water that adapts to its container, responding to circumstances without attachment. They reflect all things like a clear mirror yet show no partiality; though benefiting countless beings, they never boast of their merits. Their benevolent virtue extends to all living creatures, yet they harbor no selfish intentions. All virtuous deeds naturally gravitate toward them, yet they never assume the role of master. Only in this way can they manifest the profound virtue of "neither small nor great," avoiding the pitfalls of self-importance and self-promotion, thereby aligning with the pure and genuine Dao.

Though the Great Dao appears simple and minute, none in the world can subdue it. The sage maintains this state of simplicity and desirelessness—seemingly insignificant, yet ultimately attaining the highest nobility. This chapter illustrates how the Dao's influence is omnipresent: it is both the root of all creation (manifesting as "small") and that which interacts with all things (manifesting as "great"). The sage, by emulating the Dao's simplicity, achieves the "small" and ultimately reaches the supreme "great" state.

The chapter "Grasping the Great Image" states: those who hold fast to the Great Dao will see all under heaven turn to them. Just as rivers and seas receive countless streams, all things naturally return to the Dao without realizing it. When the sage governs the world by upholding this formless Dao, the people will flock to him as they once did to Emperor Shun or King Tai. Such allegiance brings no harm but peace and prosperity. If one deviates from the Dao, even if people follow, calamity will arise; only by adhering to the Dao can true harmony be achieved.

This scripture primarily discusses the realm of great Dao's Wuwei (non-action) characterized by peace, equanimity, and prosperity, along with the essential nature of Dao.

First, it explains the meaning of "peace-equanimity-prosperity": When one attains the blissful state of Dao's non-action, harm ceases to exist—this is "peace" (An). Freedom from the cycle of life and death constitutes "peace," the fundamental unity of all cultivation methods is called "equanimity" (Ping), and obtaining bliss through non-action is termed "prosperity" (Tai). When a nation follows the Dao, it achieves prosperity and stability with abundant livelihoods—where then would calamities arise? "Peace-equanimity-prosperity" thus describes a state free from harm: "peace" implies no fear of peril, "equanimity" means absence of malicious misfortune, and "prosperity" signifies unimpeded governance and orderly rule.

Next, it employs metaphors: Beautiful music and delicious food may briefly detain passersby, but this attraction is fleeting. Emperor Xuanzong's commentary explains that music captivates through sound, food through flavor—passersby linger momentarily for pleasure but never stay long. Lü Ji further notes that while music and delicacies may hold transient appeal, they only detain wayfarers temporarily.

Then it describes Dao's characteristics: When spoken of, Dao seems bland and flavorless; looked at, it remains invisible; listened for, it stays inaudible—yet its functions are inexhaustible. The imperial commentary clarifies that while perceived flavors fade, their source never manifests, hence Dao appears flavorless; visible colors vanish, yet their origin never reveals itself, making Dao invisible; audible sounds cease, but their progenitor remains silent, rendering Dao inaudible. Dao generates all flavors, colors, and sounds—appearing inactive yet accomplishing everything—thus its efficacy is boundless.

Finally, it expounds the principle of "desiring to contract": To gather something, first let it expand; to weaken something, first strengthen it; to abolish something, first let it flourish; to take something, first give it. This constitutes the subtle yet evident truth. The imperial commentary explains how Yin-Yang interactions, seasonal cycles, and the waxing-waning transformations of all things often begin imperceptibly. Only sages who deeply study these subtle changes can foresee fortune and misfortune, while the wise glimpse but fragments. Just as when Yang energy peaks at summer solstice, Yin energy already stirs unseen at noon's zenith.

This scripture reveals the cyclical patterns of growth and decline through natural phenomena and historical anecdotes. When yin energy reaches its peak in winter, yang energy already begins to germinate at midnight (the Zi hour). King Goujian of Yue deliberately advised Wu to attack Qi to weaken its power; Zhi Bo first presented large chariots to Chouyou before launching a surprise attack. These examples demonstrate the sage's wisdom of perceiving subtle signs - from tiny changes they foresee future developments.

Yan Zun (a Daoist scholar of the Western Han dynasty) explains: The principles of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue), the laws recorded by divine Shen (spirit), the transformative processes of heaven and earth, and the regulatory principles of yin-yang all indicate that when things reach their extreme, they reverse course - fullness becomes emptiness, brightness turns to darkness, strength transforms into decline, tension gives way to relaxation, possession leads to loss, and life ultimately meets death. This is the inherent nature of all things, the law of nature. Therefore, true wisdom lies in understanding flexibility - the ability to bend and stretch - which embodies the Great Dao. The Dao governs heaven, heaven governs rulers, rulers govern ministers, and ministers govern the people. All life depends on this system of checks and balances for survival. Just as tigers and leopards hide their claws before hunting, and jackals conceal their fangs before feeding, sages eliminate subjective will to accord with the Dao, while the wise act contrary to expectations to align with popular sentiment.

Though harsh to hear, loyal advice contains the right path, while treacherous ministers first flatter the ruler's whims. Those who understand and apply this principle can receive blessings from all things between heaven and earth; those who don't may suffer harm even from close kin. Thus sons and younger brothers can sometimes be as dangerous as tigers and wolves, while enemies and adversaries may prove as reliable as fathers and elder brothers. Good and bad interpenetrate - a rejection may bring renewal, while approval may lead to ruin. Therefore, one shouldn't lightly trust insufficiently loyal relatives or deeply associate with insufficiently virtuous companions - this is the repeated warning of sages and worthies.

Lu Dian (a Song dynasty scholar) adds that this represents the supreme art of strategic adaptation between heaven and earth. True strategy remains deeply concealed, achieving its ends through gentle means. The Yijing states "the Xun hexagram (symbolizing compliance) is used to implement strategic adaptation," and "the virtue of Xun lies in concealment." What's called "Xun" means showing weakness, while "concealment" means subtle wisdom. Laozi calls this "hidden illumination" and "subtle brightness" - only through delicate application can wisdom achieve divine efficacy, sharing the same principle as "revealing through concealment."

Lu Xisheng (a Tang dynasty scholar) concludes: The sage's most profound mystery lies in balancing strategic adaptation with constancy. Constancy takes adherence to eternal principles as its essence, while adaptation uses unconventional methods as its function. Adaptation supplements constancy, and constancy implements adaptation. Though differing in form, they share the same essence - this is the quintessence of Laozi's thought.

To guide people with substantial principles, one must establish teachings that recognize the constant Dao (the Way). To assist all things through adaptive methods, one must understand the principle that "reversal is the movement of the Dao." This is akin to what the Yijing (Book of Changes) describes: accomplishing all things through indirect means without omission, encompassing the workings of heaven and earth without overstepping.

The Huainanzi provides several examples: Duke Huan of Qi craved fine food, so Yi Ya boiled his own son to please him; the ruler of Yu coveted treasures, so Duke Xian of Jin lured him with jade and fine horses; King Hu loved music, so Duke Mu of Qin tempted him with female musicians. These are all cases where desire for profit led to being controlled by others.

The soft and weak can ultimately overcome the hard and strong. As the imperial commentary on the Daodejing states: "Nothing in the world is softer than water, yet nothing is better at overcoming the hard." Zhuangzi, in the Outer Chapters, discusses the relationship between snakes and wind: "Fingers can overpower me, feet can trample me, yet only the wind can break great trees and topple large houses."

Zhong Hui once said: "To subdue the strong, one must first appear weak. Open wide before contracting, and victory or defeat can be foreseen." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang also believed: "Humility and gentleness allow for adaptive methods; when these methods are applied, one gains control over things. Thus, we know the soft will surely overcome the strong."

Observing our own bodies closely: teeth are hard yet fall out first, while the tongue is soft yet endures. Looking broadly at nature: mountains, due to their height, are easily worn down by wind and erosion, while low-lying depressions accumulate fertile soil over time.

Just as fish cannot leave deep waters, a state's stratagems should not be lightly revealed. The imperial commentary explains: "The abyss is where fish hide; stratagems are the tools by which a state controls others. A great fish capable of swallowing boats, if stranded, can be harmed even by ants. Thus, if a ruler reveals intentions of reward or punishment, ministers will exploit the ruler's authority. Even the tools of governance like rewards and punishments should not be displayed—how much more so the fundamental Dao of governance?"

Sages wield stratagems without revealing them, not to flaunt strength but because they embody a higher principle. They govern the world without displaying cleverness, awe all things without relying on force, and never seek victory yet always maintain superiority. Through the transformations of Yin-Yang's opening and closing, they command ministers and operate the world unnoticed. Thus, they control others without being controlled themselves—the key lies in the ruler holding the supreme authority, ensuring the world is well-governed.

Lü Jifu remarked: "People cannot abandon the Dao of softness, just as fish cannot leave the abyss. Fish that leave the abyss are caught; people who forsake softness invite ruin."

The softest and most yielding things in the world can master the hardest and most rigid. Just as formless forces can penetrate seamless objects, this represents the sharpest weapon. Governing a state with such intangible power operates in ways so subtle and profound that people cannot discern its source. Thus, the most potent instrument of rulership should never be recklessly displayed.

Wang Yuanze (a Song dynasty Daoist) explains: Fish understand how to preserve their lives by remaining yielding while hidden in deep waters. The sage is the same—appearing to withdraw into seclusion, yet holding supreme authority, effortlessly guiding all things without others noticing. They can overturn heaven and earth without revealing their edge, awe the world without resorting to force—how could they casually expose their divine power to public scrutiny? I believe what sets sages apart is their mastery of subtle timing. If one confronts hardness with hardness, one can never overcome all adversaries. While the world seeks victory through force, the sage alone abides in yielding non-contention, becoming unstoppable when they act. Observe nature’s patterns: autumn and winter’s withdrawal enables spring and summer’s growth—this is clear proof. The sage remains deeply concealed, outwardly appearing soft yet controlling all things without form, undetectable even by spirits. This aligns with the Yi Jing’s teaching that "the Xun hexagram (symbolizing humility) is used to wield strategy" and Zhuangzi’s insight of "learning life’s way from fish."

This chapter reveals the wisdom of conquering hardness through softness. First relax, then tighten—yielding ultimately overcomes rigidity. Just as fish cannot leave the depths, humans cannot abandon the way of softness. When sages refrain from displaying their tools of governance, they aren’t employing force but practicing yielding—the true path to invincibility.

Chapter 37 discusses the nature of Dao: appearing non-active (Wuwei), yet accomplishing all things.

The Venerable Shu (a Daoist honorific) states: Previous chapters described Dao’s essence as formless and nameless—this chapter reveals its manifestation as non-action.

Ling Gou (a Daoist adept) explains: Dao has no fixed form yet never changes; its substance resides in ultimate emptiness. Seemingly functionless, it never ceases operating, encompassing all things. Precisely because Dao stands alone, it remains perfectly still yet complete; appearing inactive, it accomplishes everything.

This passage elucidates the essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way) and how rulers can govern the world through the practice of wuwei (non-action).

The Dao, as the origin and fundamental order of the universe, appears formless yet universally influences all things. Though seemingly inactive, it resonates with and penetrates everything; though seemingly still, it responds to all transformations. The essence of the Dao lies in taking wuwei as its natural state—precisely because of this, it is capable of accomplishing all things without deliberate effort. Here, "wuwei" refers to the Dao maintaining its tranquil, fundamental state, while "accomplishing all things" refers to its wondrous ability to respond to all phenomena.

Wang Yuanze explains that if a ruler emulates the Dao’s nature in governance, they will follow the natural course of events, adhere to the principles of heaven, and refrain from forced action. Though this may appear as non-action, it does not hinder the natural functioning of all things in the world; though all things operate on their own, the ruler does not intentionally interfere. Just as heaven does not speak yet ensures the orderly progression of the seasons and the flourishing of all beings, this represents the highest form of governance.

When all things evolve naturally, the ruler need only uphold the principles of the Dao to attain the state of "non-action yet accomplishing all things." Zhuangzi also stated that by maintaining a state of wuwei, all things will naturally transform and flourish. However, if excessive desires arise in the process of transformation—much like how an infant’s innate purity diminishes as they grow and develop intellectual concerns, or how the social customs deteriorated in the late periods of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties—then the "nameless simplicity" (the pure, unadorned nature of the Dao) must be employed to restrain them.

Finally, it is mentioned that the virtuous influence of the sage can universally save and guide people. If there are those who resist such transformation, the sage begins by cultivating themselves. The true cultivation of a sage can be extended to the entire world. If a ruler comprehends and upholds this principle, would not spreading such cultivation throughout the world embody the most universal and profound Dao?

This discussion centers on Laozi (Laojun)'s perspective regarding the relationship between the Dao and humaneness-righteousness. Some critics, upon reading Laozi's statement "renounce humaneness and abandon righteousness," mistakenly accuse him of rejecting moral virtues. In truth, this is a misinterpretation. Laozi does not oppose humaneness-righteousness per se, but advocates for a higher level of existence through the Dao—when rulers (houwang) follow the principle of Wuwei (non-action, refraining from forceful interference), genuine humaneness-righteousness naturally manifests throughout the world.

Lu Xisheng, a Tang dynasty Daoist scholar, explains: The first chapter establishes "constant Dao" as the fundamental essence and "constant naming" as its function, ultimately leading to the realm of "mystery upon mystery." This chapter, in turn, takes Wuwei as its foundation and "non-coercive action" (wubuwei) as its function, ultimately achieving the state where both self and objects are forgotten. The opening and closing passages echo each other, perfectly illustrating the essence-function relationship of the Dao.

Human nature is originally pure and tranquil; desires only arise due to external temptations. If one can maintain the "nameless simplicity" (the most primal and authentic state of Dao) without letting desires disturb one's innate nature, the human mind will naturally become upright, and the world will return to proper order without needing deliberate governance.

Li Tian, a Song dynasty Daoist, further elaborates: The Great Dao takes emptiness and stillness as its true meaning, and natural responsiveness as its wondrous function. If rulers can preserve this true constant Dao—remaining profoundly still like the Dao yet resonating with all things—then all beings will naturally return to purity, and the world will naturally achieve peace.

The chapter begins with "The Dao is constantly non-acting yet nothing is left undone," and concludes with "desiring not the nameless simplicity." If one still clings to pursuing the state of "simplicity," this cannot be considered true Wuwei. Only when even the concept of "nameless simplicity" is forgotten does one attain genuine "constant non-action of the Dao." The natural return of the world to proper order then becomes the manifestation of "nothing left undone."