《道德真經取善集》Vol. 7

This passage elucidates the core philosophy of Chapter 40 in the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), focusing on the principle that "reversal is the movement of the Dao, and weakness is the function of the Dao."

The Song Dynasty scholar Li Lin compiled commentaries from various interpreters. Wang Yuanze explains that returning to the root (fanben) leads to stillness, and this stillness is precisely the source of movement—just as the contraction of autumn and winter nurtures the vitality of spring and summer. Su Zhe interprets "reversal" as returning to one's inherent nature (fuxing), which appears tranquil and unmoving yet resonates with all transformations, forming the very origin of movement.

Observing natural patterns reveals this truth: in the celestial cycles of four seasons, the gathered energy of winter bursts forth with spring's vitality; among the Five Phases (Wuxing) of earth, seemingly weak water can penetrate solid objects. The Dao of heaven and earth maintains its enduring nature precisely through this cyclical reversal (fan). Yet once humans acquire physical form, they become engrossed in external pursuits and lose their original nature.

Wang Anshi further explains the subtle function of "weakness": observe how the wind in emptiness, though seemingly powerless, can stir all things; witness how water flowing with the terrain, content to occupy low places, can overcome hardness. This doesn't mean weakness itself constitutes strength, but rather that understanding how to employ weakness achieves true strength. Though the scripture mentions only "reversal" and not "stillness," only "weakness" and not "strength," through "movement" we comprehend the stillness within reversal, and through "weakness" we perceive genuine strength.

The passage concludes with Heshang Gong's commentary: all things emerge from the tangible heaven and earth, which themselves originate from the formless Dao. Just as water—though supremely soft—conquers the rigid, this demonstrates the Dao's profound subtlety. All existent things (you) arise from fundamental emptiness (wu), which constitutes the universal pattern of operation.

Lü Jifu (a Daoist master of the Northern Song Dynasty) explains: Only "wuwei" (non-action, the Daoist principle of natural spontaneity) can generate and transform all things in the world, while "wu" (the original state of non-being in the Dao) gives birth to "you" (concrete existence). The movement of the Dao follows the principle of cyclic return, and its mode of operation manifests in softness and pliancy. From this we understand that to return to the origin and maintain softness, there is no other path than completely attaining the state of "wu."

The core meaning of this chapter is: Returning to the origin and maintaining emptiness ensures that one's actions never lose their root. As Zhuangzi said, "When stillness reaches its peak, movement arises; with movement comes attainment." Applying the principle of "wu" makes one invincible—prevailing without contention, just as the scripture states "the soft and weak overcome the hard and strong." Therefore, the key to returning to softness lies in complete immersion in the state of "wu."

Chapter 41 describes different levels of understanding the Dao:

When superior individuals hear of the Dao, they diligently practice it. The Imperial Commentary (Emperor Huizong of Song's annotation) states: When scholars aspire to seek the Dao, superior individuals upon hearing the great Dao can sincerely accumulate its virtues and persistently cultivate it, maintaining unwavering sincerity. Li Rong (Tang Dynasty Daoist) adds: Superior individuals possess unshakable faith in the Dao, their resolve as firm as metal and stone that won't melt or change—unmoved by seasonal changes, unwavering in their commitment. They're called "superior individuals" because they uphold the Dao to the highest standard. Having profoundly comprehended the mysterious Dao, whether in reclusion or public service, in every action and thought they remain aligned with the true substance of Dao, advancing diligently without slackening—this is true "diligent practice." Someone asked: The Dao fundamentally cannot be heard—what can be heard isn't the true Dao, so how can superior individuals hear it? The answer: They listen with ears to words but practice the great Dao with their hearts—this is genuine "hearing of the Dao." As Confucius said, "Hearing the Dao in the morning, one could die content in the evening."

Average individuals hearing of the Dao sometimes practice it, sometimes forget it. Chancellor Wang (Wang Anshi) explains: Average individuals recognize the Dao's excellence but don't understand how to practice it. Li Rong illustrates: Like white silk easily dyed different colors, their minds lack steadfastness and are often swayed by external things. When seeing the true Dao can bring peace, they remember it; when encountering wealth and sensual temptations, they indulge in worldly desires. This vacillating mentality creates doubt, scattering their aspirations. Though they may wish to cultivate themselves and govern the state with Dao, they're easily disturbed by worldly desires.

(Note: The original text's section on "inferior individuals" wasn't fully provided; this maintains translation integrity) Inferior individuals hearing of the Dao laugh heartily at it—if they didn't find it laughable, it wouldn't be the Dao. Like the most sublime music failing to please vulgar ears, the most precious jade often being mistaken for stone.

This passage explains the principle behind the line in the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) that states, "When inferior people hear of the Dao, they laugh heartily at it." The essential meaning is:

Ignorant people actually ridicule the profound truths of the Dao. Because the Dao is formless and transcends sensory perception, ordinary people who are immersed in sensual desires—eyes craving beautiful sights, ears longing for music, mouths yearning for delicacies, and hearts filled with greed—cannot comprehend the mysterious state of clarity, stillness, and wuwei (non-action). Thus, they find it absurd and laughable.

Wang Yuanze points out that the Dao appears unlike any concrete thing, so shallow individuals fail to recognize it and therefore laugh. Zhi Cong explains that when people of inferior capacity hear of the wondrous Dao—which is without form or name, neither arising nor perishing—they not only disbelieve but oppose it, clapping their hands in laughter and dismissing it as delusional nonsense.

Yang Hu observes that foolish people value superficial appearances, while the Dao is profound and empty. If such profound truths were not mocked by those with shallow views, it would indicate the Dao wasn't deep enough. Su Zhe notes that the Dao has no form or sound, and unless one first sees through the illusory nature of all things, doubt is inevitable. People of average capacity waver between belief and skepticism, and only those who truly understand will diligently cultivate without slackening.

Finally, the passage cites Confucius praising Yan Hui to illustrate how rare those who comprehend the Dao truly are, making their understanding all the more precious. Just as the bright and vast Dao appears dim in the eyes of fools, genuine wisdom is often misunderstood by the vulgar.

This passage from the Daode Zhenjing Qushan Ji compiles interpretations from multiple Daoist masters on several core concepts from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), presented here in modern language:

True great wisdom appears as foolishness (Wang Yuanze's explanation of "great brightness seems dim"). Zhizong clarifies: Inner wisdom constitutes "brightness," while outward non-display constitutes "dimness."

The pursuit of the Dao (the Way) appears as regression (Li Rong explains: Diligent cultivation seems like progress, yet reaching the highest state paradoxically appears deficient—this is regression). Lü Jifu adds: Dao cultivation requires continuous reduction of desires; reducing to the ultimate state of "nothingness" (Wu) makes this seeming regression true progress.

The level great Way appears as a rugged path (Li Rong states: Treating all things equally is the "level Way," while blending with the mundane world resembles flawed silk). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang analogizes: Those with purified desire-free minds appear outwardly like uneven silk. Du Guangting further explains: Dao-realized individuals maintain inner constancy while adapting externally, like patterned silk.

The highest virtue (De) resembles a valley's receptive emptiness (imperial commentary explains: Valleys receive all things without accumulation, responding endlessly without exhaustion). Lu Dian says: Ultimate emptiness fulfills all needs; ultimate void answers all sensations.

Purest white appears sullied (Li Rong states: Incorruptible purity is "great white," yet blending with a turbid world makes it seem stained). Lu Dian quotes Laozi: "Knowing brightness yet dwelling in darkness, aware of glory yet content in humility." The purest individuals maintain inner clarity while outwardly concealing their light, mingling with the mundane.

Vast virtue always seems insufficient (Sun Deng remarks: The deeper one's virtue, the more trivial details are overlooked, appearing as wisdom's lack—like skilled merchants concealing treasures or noble persons whose great virtue seems foolish). Zhizong explains: Superior virtue universally benefits beings with endless transformative power, yet Dao-realized individuals always feel their virtue remains inadequate.

Establishing virtue should resemble stealth (Emperor Xuanzong of Tang interprets: "Establish" means to build, while "steal" means conceal—accumulating hidden virtue [Yin De] in secret).

This scripture elucidates four core concepts—"seeming stealth," "genuine purity appearing mutable," "the great square has no corners," and "the great vessel is late to completion"—through annotations by multiple Daoist scholars.

Regarding "seeming stealth," there are two interpretations: one suggests the sage secretly performs good deeds to aid the world without display, much like a thief acts covertly to avoid detection (represented by Che Huibi's view); the other implies aligning with natural rhythms may appear indolent yet achieves greater results (as Wang Yuanze argued).

"Genuine purity appearing mutable" illustrates the Dao cultivator's way of being. Those who truly attain the Dao (zhi zhen) maintain inner purity while outwardly adapting to worldly changes (ruo yu). Wang Yuanze cites the example of the Han Yin elder to demonstrate how forced displays of purity appear artificial, whereas natural integration with society while preserving one's essence reflects true cultivation.

"The great square has no corners" explains the boundless nature of the Dao. Both imperial commentaries and Li Rong emphasize that true "great square" (the Dao) transcends fixed directions or boundaries (wu yu) as it surpasses concrete forms. Lü Jifu employs phrases like "having neither east nor west" to illustrate the Dao's permeation through all orientations.

"The great vessel is late to completion" underscores the importance of natural accumulation. Imperial annotations and Tao Hongjing clarify that genuine achievement (da qi) arises not through forced pursuit but through patient maturation (wan cheng). Lu Dian further explains this as an unhurried, organic process where things come to fruition in due time.

Collectively, these commentaries embody the Daoist core principle of "natural non-action" (ziran wuwei): true virtue and accomplishment emerge not through deliberate display or rushed striving, but through harmonious alignment with nature's rhythms, achieved almost imperceptibly.

This passage discusses the highest attainment in Daoist cultivation—the "Dharma Body" (Fashen, the eternal true form realized by practitioners). Such supreme accomplishment requires the long-term accumulation of merit (De) and cannot be achieved in a short time. As the Zhuangzi states, true perfection demands prolonged cultivation.

Regarding "the greatest sound seems silent" (Dayin Xisheng), it means the sound of the highest realm transcends audible form. Emperor's commentary explains this sound has no fixed source yet resonates with all things; Wang Bi interprets it as a mystical sound beyond ordinary hearing. Common sounds have distinct pitches, but the sound of the Dao (the Way) is an undifferentiated whole—hence the greatest sound is ultimately silent. Zhizong further elaborates: when sages expound the Dharma, their voice pervades the ten directions, awakening all beings, yet this teaching is fundamentally wordless and tranquil—thus called "seeming silent."

"The greatest form has no shape" (Daxiang Wuxing) indicates the supreme form transcends physical appearance. Zhong Hui clarifies: only what responds to all forms can be called "the greatest form." Since it has no fixed shape, it cannot be described with specific features.

"The Dao is hidden and nameless" (Dao Yin Wuming) reveals the ineffable nature of the Dao. Though provisionally named "Dao," even this label is temporary. Lü Jifu adds: the Dao often manifests in paradoxical ways—seeming dark yet luminous, ordinary yet extraordinary, retreating yet advancing. These contradictions arise because the Dao itself transcends all names and forms.

Finally, "giving abundantly and perfecting all" (Shan Dai Qie Cheng): Gu Huan explains "giving" (Dai) means the Dao first bestows life upon all things, then draws them back to itself; Zhizong warns mortals to awaken to their origin; Wang Anshi states the Dao nourishes all without exhaustion, ultimately returning them to the source. The entire chapter elucidates the profound, inscrutable nature of the Dao—manifesting as light, smoothness, and progress while simultaneously embodying darkness, ruggedness, and retreat. Such mystery cannot be grasped through ordinary wisdom.

This scripture explores the process by which the Dao gives birth to all things and its inherent principles. Laozi uses the phrase "The Dao begets One, One begets Two, Two begets Three, Three begets all things" to explain cosmogony: the primordial Dao (cosmic origin) first generates the undifferentiated "One" (Taiji), which then divides into the two Qi energies of Yin and Yang (Two). The interaction of Yin and Yang produces harmonizing Qi (Three), which ultimately gives rise to the myriad things.

Lu Dian explains that the "One" generated by the Dao is Taiji, "Two" represents Yin-Yang, and "Three" refers to the harmonizing Qi produced by their interaction. Li Rong further elaborates: the differentiation of Yin and Yang forms Heaven (pure and light Qi), Earth (turbid and heavy Qi), and Humanity (balanced harmonizing Qi), constituting the triadic pattern of the cosmos. Master Gu Shenzi describes this evolutionary process: the Great Dao naturally transforms to produce divine function, whose movement creates harmonious states, with this harmonizing Qi eventually condensing into form.

All things contain both Yin and Yang aspects (embracing Yin while carrying Yang), and these two Qi energies achieve harmony through "chong Qi" (harmonizing Qi). Just as medical theory speaks of stomach Qi harmonizing Yin-Yang, Daoists consider chong Qi essential for sustaining life. The Zhuangzi similarly mentions that only through the mutual interaction of extreme Yang and extreme Yin Qi can the myriad things be generated.

The text concludes by noting how people generally dislike humble appellations like "solitary," "desolate," or "unworthy," yet rulers adopt these terms for themselves. This exemplifies the Daoist wisdom that "the soft overcomes the hard" - seemingly lowly titles paradoxically demonstrate a ruler's virtue (De). Such profound philosophy truly transcends shallow worldly understanding.

This explains why rulers and nobility historically referred to themselves with inauspicious terms like "the solitary one" (孤家) or "the morally deficient person" (寡人). In reality, this was a cultivation practice—by consciously humbling themselves, they harmonized the Qi (vital energy) of Yin and Yang (Daoism teaches that all phenomena arise from these two fundamental energies).

A ruler truly aligned with the Dao (the Way), though wealthy and powerful, would deliberately use self-deprecating titles like "solitary" or "deficient." What appears as self-diminishment actually wins genuine support from the people. As the Yijing (Book of Changes) states: "Pride invites loss, while humility brings benefit." The Dao of heaven invariably reduces what is excessive and supplements what is modest.

Those who rely on brute force and oppression—the "overbearing strong" (强梁者)—often meet untimely ends. Consider how the tyrannical Qin dynasty collapsed due to its harsh rule, while the harmonious Han flourished. Just as a house's beam, though sturdy, will snap if too rigid.

Heshang Gong (a pivotal Daoist commentator) explains: "The world teaches people to be strong, but I teach them to be soft." Those who disregard heavenly law, defy De (Virtue), and depend on violence inevitably face heaven's retribution—whether through calamity, war, or legal punishment—and rarely die natural deaths.

The core teaching here is: What seems like loss becomes gain; what seems like gain becomes loss. When rulers humble themselves, they gain popular support; when swollen with pride, they invite abandonment. This embodies the Daoist wisdom that "the soft overcomes the hard."

This passage expounds the Daoist principle that softness and weakness overcome hardness and strength. Confucius' disciple Zilu, despite his bravery, met an untimely end; the legendary archer Houyi and the skilled sailor Ao also failed to die naturally—all because they violated the way of softness.

Li Rong (a Tang Dynasty Daoist master) comments that those who disobey their rulers and parents, disregard the sages' teachings, crave vanity, and bully the weak often break laws and meet premature deaths. All things follow natural laws, and the sages through their teachings reveal that benevolence and righteousness are external manifestations while Dao and De (Virtue) form the fundamental root. Addressing humanity's competitive nature, the sages particularly advocate the way of softness.

Here we see the cosmological principle: Dao generates the One Qi, which divides into Yin and Yang, and their harmonious interaction produces the harmonizing Qi. All things achieve balance by receiving this harmonizing energy. Nobles calling themselves "orphaned and alone" appear self-deprecating yet actually benefit, while common people's competitiveness brings misfortune—seeming gains turn to losses. The sages use such phenomena to instruct the world.

The softest things in existence (water and Dao) can penetrate the hardest substances. Li Rong explains: among tangible things, water is the softest; among intangibles, Dao is the softest. Water dissolves metal and erodes stone; Dao helps people relinquish attachments and overcome stubbornness. By observing like water and emulating Dao's qualities, one can transcend self-other distinctions and penetrate all barriers. Though soft, water approximates Dao—how much more so the formless Dao that encompasses heaven-earth and permeates all existence? This demonstrates softness conquering hardness. Here "move freely" means to penetrate and operate without obstruction.

The Daode Jing states "the formless enters the seamless": Heshang Gong (a Han Dynasty Daoist scholar) explains Dao as "formless"—lacking fixed shape, it freely penetrates any space, connecting with divine intelligence to benefit all beings. Yan Zun (a Han Dynasty thinker) adds: tangible tools cannot enter tiny crevices, yet the formless Dao instantly traverses a thousand miles.

This passage elucidates the wondrous function of the concept of "non-being" (wu you). "Non-being" refers to the mysterious state of the Dao (the Way), which appears nonexistent yet permeates all things. Its operation is subtle and unfathomable—capable of penetrating metal and stone, entering the finest crevices. This divine power resides within the human heart, while the heart in turn serves as its vessel.

Only by maintaining inner emptiness and stillness can one preserve this numinous power, and only by preserving this power can one explore ultimate truth. Whether applied directly or followed indirectly, whether moving up or down, in all directions it flows freely without obstruction, filling the cosmic space—reaching the heavens above and the earth below, connecting the six directions and four dimensions. Wherever it enters, it naturally adapts with perfect ease.

From this we understand the marvelous function of Wuwei (non-action). Just as the soft overcomes the hard and emptiness contains substance, the exquisite operation of the Dao manifests precisely here. Abandon worldly affairs and the body won't grow weary; transcend life and death and the spirit won't suffer depletion—such are the benefits of Wuwei.

Wang Bi explains: The state of softness and emptiness penetrates all things. The softest cannot be broken; what seems nonexistent is in fact inexhaustible. Following this reasoning, one comprehends the advantages of the Dao of Wuwei.

Li Rong further elaborates: Though the Dao has no form or appearance, all things arise because of it. Though sages appear to do nothing, the people are naturally transformed. Such are the benefits of Wuwei. Softness is the essence of the Dao; emptiness is its function. The state of ultimate softness and emptiness is the Dao itself. Without deliberate action, the Dao nurtures all things spontaneously—thus we know the benefits of Wuwei.

The teaching beyond words, the benefits of governing through non-action—few in the world attain this. Sages implement transformation through inner numinous power, maintaining Wuwei without losing authenticity. Holding fast to original simplicity, the world naturally follows; preserving non-action, all things flourish spontaneously. Those who reach this state are exceedingly rare.

Gu Huan states: Emulating the great Dao's wordless teaching, customs transform naturally; following the great Dao's governance through non-action, people and things are influenced spontaneously. Hence the teaching without words and the benefits of non-action. This chapter speaks of modeling the Dao's softness and emptiness—teaching through silence, nurturing people through Wuwei. How few in the world understand this path!

The subsequent Chapter 44 discusses the relationship between fame and life: Which is dearer—reputation or life? Which matters more—life or wealth? A person's two arms are more valuable than the empire—compared to these, which deserves greater care? Is life not more precious than the Pearl of Marquis Sui? Between body and possessions, which holds more worth? True aspiration lies in inner cultivation—fame isn't worth excessive pursuit; true abundance resides in spiritual attainment—wealth isn't worth insatiable craving. Only those who confuse primary and secondary values would harm life and injure innate nature—pitiful like Bo Yi starving for reputation at Shouyang Mountain, or Robber Zhi dying for material gain.

In the eastern hills (possibly referring to a place of cultivation), is this not perplexing?

Li Rong explains: The human body is the foundation for attaining the Dao (the Way), thus it is most intimate; while reputation is merely illusory and should be kept at a distance. Yet ordinary people often fail to protect their bodies and instead harm their reputations, or pursue fame at the expense of their physical well-being.

Wang Bi adds: Those who excessively chase fame and overreach are bound to neglect their roots; those insatiably greedy for material wealth will inevitably damage themselves.

Lü Jifu elaborates further: Those who sacrifice themselves for reputation pursue empty fame, resulting in harm to their lives and injury to their innate nature—this shows they fail to understand that the body is more important than reputation. Hence the saying: "Reputation and body—which is more intimate?" The greedy pursue wealth, yet similarly harm their lives and damage their innate nature—this shows they fail to realize that the body is more precious than possessions. Hence the saying: "Body and wealth—which is more important?"

Reputation is illusory; wealth is external to the self. The body is the foundation for cultivating the Dao. Is it not clear that the body is more intimate than reputation and more important than wealth? Historically, Zhuangzi (Meng Zhuang) firmly declined the ministerial position in Chu, preferring to be a turtle dragging its tail in the mud; Celestial Master Zhang (Zhang Daoling, founder of Daoism) also refused official posts, devoting himself wholly to following the path of the Yellow Emperor (Xuanyuan) in cultivating the Dao. These examples demonstrate that the body is the root, while reputation is merely the branches.

Gaining and losing—which is more harmful?

The Commentary on Subtleties explains: This discusses the previous two statements. Empty fame and fleeting wealth are as light as a feather, while the loss of life, essence, and spirit (Jing-Qi-Shen) is as heavy as Mount Tai. The wise weigh and compare—which is the true calamity?

Li Rong continues his analysis: Reputation is external praise; wealth is worldly riches. The body carries the foundation of Confucian virtues like loyalty and filial piety, as well as the essence of Daoist cultivation. But those who lose their innate nature do not turn back, and those chasing desires lose their true selves. Sacrificing the body for reputation or harming oneself for wealth—such delusion is widespread. Therefore, the sage asks in detail: "Gaining fame and wealth versus losing the body—which is truly the sickness?"

Lü Jifu concludes: Those who pursue reputation are called "gentlemen" by the world; those who chase wealth are called "petty men." Though their pursuits differ, their loss of the root is the same. Then, gaining fame and wealth while losing the foundation of life—do they not realize that the loss outweighs the gain? Hence the saying: "Gaining and losing—which is more harmful?"

Thus we may conclude: Excessive attachment inevitably leads to great waste; excessive hoarding inevitably invites severe loss.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains: Excessive attachment to reputation must weary the spirit—is this not great waste? Excessive accumulation of wealth must burden the body—is this not severe loss?

Liu Jinxi adds: Insatiable greed is "excessive attachment"; when desires grow too strong, one loses the body—hence "great waste."

Lü Jifu (a Daoist priest of the Northern Song Dynasty) explains that people pursue fame to elevate their status, but excessive attachment to reputation leads to losing true nobility—this constitutes a great loss. Accumulating wealth aims to enrich oneself, yet excessive hoarding invites calamity—this represents severe dissipation.

Those who understand contentment will not incur disgrace; those who know when to stop will avoid danger—this is how one achieves longevity. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Li Longji) annotates: Disgrace means harm and encumbrance; danger means disaster and ruin. Not chasing empty fame is knowing contentment; not amassing wealth is knowing limits. The contented person's reputation matches reality without excessive burdens; the restrained person stores no excessive wealth and thus avoids the calamity of greed. Free from both disgrace and danger, one naturally endures.

Li Rong (a Tang Dynasty Daoist) adds: By not pursuing fame beyond one's rightful portion, one stays far from shame; by not seeking wealth through improper means, one remains free from peril. Maintaining distance from fame and fortune while staying vigilant against danger—this enables lasting governance of a state and longevity in self-cultivation.

Lü Jifu further elaborates: Only those with genuine virtue (De) understand that the noblest quality resides within their hearts, requiring no reliance on empty reputation—thus contentment prevents disgrace. The richest state exists within one's innate nature, needing no external wealth—thus restraint avoids danger. Without disgrace or peril, one naturally endures.

The core teaching of this chapter is: Those wishing to learn the Dao of longevity must first sever profit-seeking desires and forget empty fame. If thoughts of fame and fortune remain unremoved, both body and mind become enslaved—not only hindering cultivation but ultimately harming oneself. Ancient Dao-realized individuals neither approached empty fame nor accumulated material wealth, viewing high positions and generous emoluments as worn sandals or floating clouds. Some dwelt contentedly in poverty, living in humble huts—imperial ministers couldn't recognize them, and emperors couldn't recruit them. Dwelling in mountain forests and caves, sustaining themselves with pine nuts and stream water, they would never allow illusory gains as insignificant as snail horns or fly heads to damage the genuine nature within their life essence (Xingming). This constitutes the foremost precept in Dao-learning and the crucial point in self-cultivation. Hence ancient exemplars are cited, hoping truth-seekers may break these shackles.

(The following section discusses "Great perfection seems incomplete") The most complete thing appears defective, yet its function never fails. Emperor Xuanzong annotates: In the cosmos there are Four Greats (Dao, Heaven, Earth, and the King), with Dao as supreme. Comprehending Dao's entirety qualifies as "great"; neither completed nor deficient constitutes "great perfection." Not clinging to one's achievements, it thus appears flawed; understanding adaptation to change without rigid adherence to old rules, its function never exhausts.

The reason Confucius could become a sage of comprehensive attainment was his understanding of proper timing. Master Heshang explains that a ruler with true great De (Virtue/Power) appears flawed, concealing his reputation as if self-deprecating, maintaining an incomplete state. Acting with such mindfulness prevents decline and preserves perpetual vitality.

Li Yue in his "Collected Subtleties" clarifies: "Flawed" implies imperfection, while "worn" suggests exhaustion. "Great completion" refers to a noble person with perfected virtue. Those internally abundant in De can embrace coarseness and accept impurity; externally they resemble damaged vessels that rarely display utility, thereby remaining whole and unhindered by failure.

Those who achieve merit must understand humble withdrawal—only by not claiming credit can merit be preserved. Those who gain fame must guard against corruption—never be trapped by reputation. True wisdom sees through the mutual generation of success and failure, relinquishing achievement to return to simplicity. This great Dao (the Way) appears flawed yet is complete. Emperor Yao established monumental deeds yet felt inadequate, becoming the most outstanding of the Five Emperors; Confucius synthesized all wisdom yet never proclaimed himself a sage, becoming the teacher for all ages. Their influence remains eternally fresh, never decaying.

The most replete things appear empty yet function endlessly. Like the "great fullness" that fills heaven and earth and nourishes all things—it responds to all with empty stillness, thus never being exhausted. Truly great merchants conceal their treasures; those with abundant De appear outwardly dull.

Lü Huiqing states: When all things draw upon it without depletion, that is fullness, yet adding to it brings no increase—thus it appears empty. Precisely because it seems empty, it can be drawn upon daily without ever running dry. Master Kumārajīva says: Wisdom that accumulates everything is fullness; maintaining clarity is emptiness. The truly complete forget their own completeness—though full, they seem empty, and being empty, they never exhaust.

When the moon becomes full, it wanes; when satisfaction peaks, loss follows. Sages understand the patterns of fullness and emptiness, maintaining stillness even in abundance.

The straightest appears bent. Wang Bi explains: Straightness lies in following things' nature—not in oneself—hence the appearance of bending. Kumārajīva clarifies: Principle aligned is straightness; yielding to circumstances is bending. The body may bend, but Dao (the Way) cannot. The truly straight bend physically to uphold righteousness, like Liuxia Hui who thrice suffered demotion without abandoning principle.

The most skillful appears clumsy. Su Zhe observes: Knowing only skill without clumsiness makes skill a burden. Following things' spontaneous course seems clumsy yet is truly skillful.

Liu Jinxi said that the truly skilled craftsman (referring to the Creator), though having fashioned all things in the world and refined sentient beings with great merit (De), never boasts of his achievements. He conceals his divine traces like an ordinary person, hence the saying "Great skill appears clumsy."

The highest craftsmanship lies in non-deliberate action (Wuwei), following natural laws to accomplish things. Without forced effort, there remains no trace of artificial carving. When giving form to all things—whether square, round, curved, or straight—no human cleverness is visible, thus appearing clumsy. It is like carving various forms without showing intention—this is the true test. Take for example Zi Qing (an ancient master craftsman) naturally crafting a chime instrument, completely unlike the Song people's artificial carving of mulberry leaves (referring to excessive ornamentation).

True eloquence appears as stammering. The Emperor's commentary states that debate without relying on words is great wisdom, while sophistry like Hui Shi's (a representative of the School of Names) is mere cleverness. Master Kumarajiva said comprehensive wisdom constitutes great debate; refraining from speech that contradicts the Dao (the Way) is true stammering. Su Zhe believed that relentless argumentation eventually exhausts reason, whereas speaking in accordance with heavenly principles, even if seemingly inarticulate, constitutes true debate.

Restlessness can ward off cold, silence can resist heat, yet only serene non-action (Wuwei) is the true way to govern the world. Lü Huiqing explained that cold and heat are natural phenomena of heaven and earth, unavoidable for all physical things. Temporary restlessness can fend off cold, temporary silence can withstand heat—how much more so when comprehending the Dao of serene non-action to govern the world? What then cannot be transcended?

The essence of this chapter first discusses various "great" realms, ultimately concluding that serene non-action is the foundation of governing the world. Laozi said those who comprehend the Dao always maintain serenity. Only by attaining the realm of emptiness can one achieve the aforementioned "great" states.

Chapter 46 discusses the way of governing the world: When the world follows the Dao, warhorses retire to plow fields and fertilize. The Emperor's commentary notes that when governing with the Dao, people live in peace without contention, and warhorses are used for farming. A ruler who follows the Dao has few desires, refrains from external expansion, stores weapons to cultivate culture, and avoids warfare—hence warhorses turn to farming. The same applies to self-cultivation: when the mind's "horses" do not wander, the Dantian (energy center) naturally becomes full.

When the world lacks the Dao, even pregnant mares are sent to battle. Sima Guang said this results from insatiable greed and abandoning fundamentals to pursue external things. A ruler without the Dao indulges desires in constant warfare, where frequent battles force pregnant mares to foal in the wild.

This scripture primarily discusses the calamities arising from human desires and insatiability. Through multiple commentators' perspectives, it presents three core teachings:

First, it states "no crime is greater than indulging desires" (罪莫大于可欲). When people encounter objects that arouse desire, their spirit (Shen) becomes disturbed, leading them to violate their true nature in pursuit of gratification. The Tang Emperor Xuanzong's commentary observes that the emergence of covetous thoughts in the heart marks the beginning of grave transgressions. Zhang Junxiang further explains that beautiful external phenomena can awaken greedy desires, and becoming addicted to them without restraint inevitably invites serious offenses.

Secondly, it declares "no misfortune is greater than discontent" (祸莫大于不知足). The Imperial Commentary asserts that only contentment can prevent disgrace and disaster. Wang Yuanze interprets that when people fail to recognize their inherent completeness and instead endlessly seek external possessions, they sink into defilement and humiliation, drifting in the bitter sea of life and death, forever losing the true Dao - this constitutes the greatest calamity.

Finally, it warns "no fault is greater than covetousness" (咎莫大于欲得). The Great Meng commentary emphasizes that insatiably greedy people inevitably invite major misfortunes. The Compilation of Subtleties further elucidates that some individuals not only crave what they see, but desire to possess all things under heaven - such extreme greed harms not only themselves but future generations. Daoist tradition classifies faults into three grades: initial missteps are called "crimes" (罪), accumulating 1,800 instances becomes "misfortune" (祸), and reaching 2,160 constitutes "grave faults" (咎) - all manifestations of those who have strayed from the Dao.

In summary, this scripture cautions that indulging desires, lacking contentment, and insatiable greed form the root of life's three great calamities, bringing disaster both to individuals and their descendants. True Dao cultivators should practice contentment and restrain covetousness.

This passage explains how straying from one's true nature to pursue desires invites calamity. When people see coveted objects and fail to feel content, this insatiability breeds possessiveness, which in turn sparks conflict. Escalating disputes can erupt into chaos, even triggering warfare (as described in the phrase "warhorses breeding in the outskirts"). But those who understand contentment, who remain true to their inherent nature without scheming cleverness, who find sufficiency in daily sustenance—how could strife or turmoil arise from such people?

Mozi, founder of the Mohist school, observed: "It's not that peaceful living is unavailable, but that human hearts know no contentment; not that material goods are insufficient, but that greed has no bounds." All things in nature provide abundance, yet people perpetually feel lacking—this stems entirely from covetousness. Those who have attained the Dao understand: when the heart is content, provisions naturally suffice. Hence the saying, "Contentment's fulfillment is eternal fulfillment."

Wang Yuanze, a Song dynasty scholar, added: "If each person abided by their inherent nature, how could any insufficiency exist?" This chapter reveals that those who govern the world through the Dao maintain inner contentment and outer non-attachment, thereby preventing warfare and averting disasters. For Daoist practitioners, reducing desires and cultivating contentment pacifies the restless "mind-horse" (a metaphor for agitated thoughts) and stabilizes the vital Qi in the Dantian (the body's energy center). This constitutes the genuine attainment of the Dao.

(Note: The "mind-horse" symbolizes restless thoughts, while "Dantian" refers to the Daoist cultivation term for the body's focal energy centers. Daoist practice emphasizes "anchoring awareness in the Dantian" to maintain inner tranquility.)