《道德真經集義大旨》

This passage discusses the divine spirits residing within the five viscera (heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys) of the human body. Many interpretations of the "Valley Spirit" (谷神) are inaccurate—some mistake it for the Mysterious Feminine (玄牝, referring to the Dantian), others for the heart. In truth, these divine spirits represent the vital energies inherently contained within the five viscera themselves. As long as one's Jing (essence) remains unexhausted and primordial Qi remains undepleted, these spirits will be nourished and endure, causing one's countenance to radiate brilliance.

Regarding the human lifespan, all beings follow the same natural progression. Youth resembles the sprouting of all things, middle age their growth, and old age their maturation. If one cannot complete this natural life journey, their primordial Qi will scatter chaotically, unable to return to the undifferentiated source where Yin and Yang energies intermingle.

The Dao gives birth to all things, while De (Virtue/Power) nourishes them. Specifically: the Dao endows us with our life essence, De cultivates our innate nature, material elements form our physical bodies, and environmental factors facilitate our development—this is the wondrous work of creation.

The cosmos originally existed as pure emptiness, from which emerged a mass of primordial Qi that condensed into a state of chaos containing the Three Powers (三才): Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. When these Three Powers differentiated, Heaven and Earth took their positions—a process occurring spontaneously without external causation. Thus emptiness serves as the root of the Dao, while the Three Powers generate all things to respond to the world's infinite transformations, their function never ceasing.

The Nine Heavens formed through the threefold transformation of azure, yellow, and white Qi—three energies each generating three heavens (3×3=9). These Nine Heavens then each produced three more heavens, totaling twenty-seven, plus the nine heavenly realms where the palaces of Metal, Fire, and Earth reside, making thirty-six celestial spheres in total. During creation, the three Qi of Mystery (black), Origin (white), and Beginning (red) permeated the cosmos, transforming into three lights: azure light ascending to become Celestial Origin (white), white light remaining central as Human Origin (yellow), and red light descending as Earthly Origin (azure). Their blending produced nine radiances that illuminate the Dharma Body (cultivated Daoist form) with luminous transparency. The Three Pure Ones (Sanqing)—Jade Pure, Upper Pure, and Grand Pure—emerged as three treasures differentiated from these three-colored Qi, all originating from the same primordial energy. The Great Void established the Three Pure Ones through the division of one Qi into three, making them embodiments of the natural Dao—parentless, beyond Yin-Yang distinctions, purely spontaneous manifestations of natural transformation.

This scripture describes the Daoist cosmogony and worldview. At its core, it explains how the Dao gives birth to all things and the structure of the celestial realms.

Initially, the Primordial Qi (original energy) differentiated into the Three Pure Realms (Sanqing) — the abodes of the three highest deities (Jade Pure, Upper Pure, and Supreme Pure). Lord Laozi (Taishang Laojun) manifests as an embodiment of the Three Pure Ones' differentiation, descending to the human world during different kalpas (cosmic cycles). The foundational Qi of the Three Pure Ones further divided into nine types of precious light, each representing distinct stages of creation: beginning with the chaotic Azure Light, followed sequentially by Crimson Light, Blue-Green Light, Green Light, Yellow Light, White Light, Purple Light, Jade Light, and ultimately transforming into the supreme "Wei Light."

These luminous Qi energies further differentiated to form thirty-two celestial heavens. Combined with the four uppermost heavens, they constitute the thirty-six heavens. Among these, the Great Canopy Heaven (Daluo Tian) and Middle Canopy Heaven (Zhongluo Tian) correspond to the seventy-two pentads (an ancient calendrical term where five days make one pentad). When added to the nine heavens, they form the sacred number eighty-one (a key numerical system in Daoism).

Earth corresponds to the number five of the Five Phases' "Earth" element, combining with the number one of Water to form the twelve lines of the Kun trigram (one of the Eight Trigrams, Bagua). Thus, twelve luminous beings initially manifested as the beginning. In spiritual practice, one visualizes the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions (ancient astronomical star groupings) distributed throughout the body, corresponding to the movements of the Seven Luminaries (sun, moon, and five visible planets). Special attention is given to the Xu Mansion (one of the northern Black Tortoise constellations), as it represents the mysterious site where the Dao first manifested — corresponding to Aquarius in the twelve zodiac signs, symbolizing how all life originates from this void source.

The entire system demonstrates that the fundamental arrangement of sun, moon, stars, and the generation of all things stems from the Dao. The Dao itself has neither beginning nor end. From emptiness, it produced the Primordial Qi (Yuanqi), which returns to the Yellow Court (Dantian) before dispersing again to nurture all creation. Thus, the void is the origin of the Dao, just as the Xu Mansion's profound position in celestial phenomena embodies the principle of "the Dao begets the One."

This scripture primarily explores Daoist cosmology and cultivation principles. The text mentions that "xuan" (mystery) represents the primordial Qi of heaven, while "pin" (feminine) symbolizes the primordial Qi of earth. Through cultivation, humans can comprehend the Great Dao (the Way). The interplay of heaven-earth and yin-yang resembles how thunder returns to the Zhen trigram (one of the Eight Trigrams/Bagua, representing thunder) in cyclical patterns.

The opening and closing of the "gates of heaven and earth" (referring to the meeting point of yin and yang) depends fundamentally on maintaining the way of soft receptivity. The Great Dao is originally undivided, evolving through "one transforming into three" to form the Qian trigram (pure yang), which then transforms into the Kun trigram (pure yin). The waxing and waning of yin-yang intersect during the si-hai hours (9-11 am and 9-11 pm), when Qian and Kun naturally unite. Just as the male cannot exist without the female, this is the law of heavenly Dao. Those who comprehend this principle can achieve unity with the Dao.

The text uses numerical symbolism for the cycle of life and death: ten represents the cycle of birth and death, nine corresponds to the Wood phase, eight to the Water phase. All Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are subject to this law of life and death. These numerical relationships are contained within the mystical number "ten and three." Through proper numerical calculations (four-nine-seven-six), one can accurately grasp these patterns.

The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi) said: Cultivating the Dao resembles the mutual nourishment of water and fire—the true Dao-body cannot be separated for even a moment. What can separate and yet endure is neither object nor person. Here, worldly water and fire metaphorically represent true cultivation—genuine Water (Kan trigram) and genuine Fire (Li trigram) must harmonize. Practitioners should master the "extraction and replenishment" technique (regulating breath and intention), applying it at appropriate moments. This "ten and three" differs from the earlier mentioned cycle of life and death, instead pointing to a state transcending birth and death.

Dao cultivation has different levels: the highest is the formless, non-active (Wuwei) Dao; next is the "single Qi" active approach. The former is more profound, while the latter is called "supreme De (Virtue)." Practices below supreme De belong to active methods, divided into internal and external three virtues. These are all orthodox cultivation paths. It's crucial to integrate four elements—Dao, De, yin-yang, and human affairs—into a unified whole. Without such harmony, cultivation will encounter obstacles everywhere. Practitioners should contemplate this carefully.

Finally, the text cites two important commentators on the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue): Master Heshang (of the Han dynasty) and Wang Bi (of the Wei dynasty, courtesy name Fusi).

This passage enumerates the key historical figures who authored commentaries on the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), along with their respective backgrounds. Beginning with Emperor Xuanzong of Tang and extending through multiple Song dynasty emperors, officials, scholars, and Daoist masters, this foundational Daoist scripture has received continuous interpretive attention.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (posthumously titled "Great Sage, Illustrious, Filial Emperor") personally composed both commentary (zhu) and subcommentary (shu) for the Daode Jing in 723 CE (the Guihai year of the Kaiyuan era). During the Later Shu period, Du Guangting (known by his Daoist name Guangde Xiansheng) authored the Guangsheng Yi commentary in 901 CE (the Xinyou year of the Tianfu era).

Multiple Song dynasty emperors participated in this exegetical tradition, including Emperor Huizong (posthumously titled "Emperor of Divine Embodiment and Dao Union, Majestic Achievements, Humble Merit, Sagely Culture, Benevolent Virtue, Constitutional Compassion, and Manifest Filiality"). Other notable commentators included statesman Wang Anshi (courtesy name Jiefu), literary figure Su Zhe (courtesy name Ziyou), scholars Lü Huiqing (courtesy name Jifu) and Lu Dian (courtesy name Nongshi), among other court officials and intellectuals.

The Daoist tradition is represented by masters such as Bai Yuchan (known as Elder Ziqing) and Chen Jingyuan (known as Master Bixu), who typically went by their Daoist appellations. This diverse group of commentators—ranging from emperors and ministers to reclusive adepts—demonstrates the Daode Jing's profound influence across all strata of traditional Chinese culture.

This passage enumerates the numerous scholars and Daoist priests who provided commentaries on the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) during the Song and Yuan dynasties. The material is organized into several sections:

First, it lists thirty-six scholars who produced complete commentaries on the Daode Jing, including Xie Tunan (a Song dynasty official styled Lianshan Tian/Yizi), Lin Lüzhai (a Song dynasty Hanlin Academician styled Zhuxi), and Fan Yingyuan (abbot of Nanyue Shouning Temple styled Guoshan). These individuals systematically interpreted the text during different periods, and later generations compiled their annotations.

Next, it mentions two unique commentators: Zhang Chongying (venerated as Jade Purity High Minister) and Zhang Lingying (posthumously honored as Divine Sage King of Civil and Military Virtue, Filial Piety and Benevolence during the Song). According to records, their commentaries were produced through "spirit-writing" (a Daoist practice of receiving revelations through planchette writing).

The text then supplements four additional commentators, including Su Jingjing (a Song dynasty jinshi degree holder), the lay practitioner Chai Yuanhao of Benyi Hermitage, and Wu Huanzhong among others.

Finally, it cites eight scholars referenced in other collected commentaries, including Buddhist figures like Master Shi and Master Zhao, as well as Confucian scholars such as Lu Xisheng and Sima Guang. Historical figures like Prince Huainan Liu An, Sima Qian, and Yan Junping are also mentioned, as their relevant discourses were later quoted in Daode Jing commentaries.

This account primarily demonstrates the widespread study and annotation of the Daode Jing during the Song-Yuan period, involving scholars from Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist traditions. The commentators ranged from official scholars to Daoist practitioners, employing methods that included both academic research and religious mystical experiences.

This passage primarily documents the biographical accounts of Laozi (founder of Daoism) and the transmission of related texts.

It first mentions twenty-six scholars (such as Ying Jifu, Zhang Xuanjing, etc.) cited by Fan Yingyuan in his works, along with five others (including Guan Yinzi and Liezi) who serve as corroborating sources. These individuals all studied and interpreted Laozi's philosophy.

The text then extols Laozi as a supreme transcendent being who existed before the formation of heaven and earth. His work, the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), consisting of five thousand characters, established Daoism and has endured through the ages without decline. The term "Hunyuan" (Chaotic Origin) mentioned here refers to the undifferentiated primordial state of the cosmos.

Regarding Laozi's biography: His original name was Li Er, courtesy name Boyang, with the posthumous title Dan. He served as the archivist of the Zhou dynasty's royal library. Confucius once sought his advice on rituals, to which Laozi replied, "Those who established the rites you speak of have long since decayed—only their words remain. A noble man acts when the time is right and withdraws to cultivate himself when fortune does not favor him." He further advised Confucius with the saying, "A skilled merchant hides his wealth, and a virtuous man appears simple despite his wisdom."

After leaving, Confucius sighed to his disciples, "Birds fly, fish swim, and beasts run—all can be caught. But the dragon rides wind and clouds to ascend the heavens—I cannot fathom it. The Laozi I met today is like a dragon!" Laozi devoted himself to the study of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue), advocating a life of anonymity. Witnessing the decline of the Zhou dynasty, he departed westward. At the Hangu Pass, the gatekeeper Yin Xi stopped him and requested that he compose a text. Thus, Laozi wrote the Daode Jing in two parts, totaling over five thousand characters, before leaving—his ultimate fate unknown.

The passage concludes by noting that Laozi may have lived over 160 years, with some accounts even suggesting 200 years, attributing his longevity to his cultivation of Daoist practices. Additionally, 129 years after Confucius's death, historical records mention a Zhou court historian named Dan who met Duke Xian of Qin. This hints that Laozi may have lived longer than commonly believed—or that Laozi and this historian Dan might have been the same person.

This passage recounts the legendary origins of Laozi and the Daoist deification of his spiritual stature. Regarding Laozi's birth, several accounts exist: one suggests that during the cyclical periods of division and reunification between the Qin state and Zhou dynasty, a hegemon would emerge every few centuries—some identify Laozi as the Zhou court historian Dan, while others dispute this claim.

Historical records describe Laozi's lineage: his son Li Zong served as a Wei general and was enfeoffed at Duan'gan; Li Zong's son Li Zhu begot Li Jia, whose great-grandson Li Jia held office during Emperor Wen of Han's reign; Li Jia's son Li Xie became tutor to Liu Ang, Prince of Jiaoxi, relocating the family to Qi. Contemporary scholars of Laozi's teachings clashed with Confucians, exemplifying the adage "Those who follow different Daos do not take counsel together."

In the preface by Immortal Ge (Ge Xuan, a pivotal Daoist figure), Laozi's true form is described as spontaneously generated from the primordial "Great Nothingness" preceding cosmic formation. Transcending time and space without beginning or end, he merges with the supreme Dao as the fundamental source of all existence. His De (Virtue) is so vast and pure it defies description, having established glorious achievements. As master of the Three Luminaries (sun, moon, stars) and source of all creation, he occupies the highest position yet claims no merit, silently nurturing all things. Since cosmogenesis, Laozi has repeatedly descended as imperial preceptor—an unbroken lineage.

Concerning Laozi's appellation: the name "Laozi" (Old Master) originates from the profound "Xuan" (mystery of Dao's essence). Existing before heaven and earth's formation, he never ages. While mortals believe Laozi originated in the Zhou dynasty, this title existed countless kalpas (Buddhist aeons) earlier. During the Zhou's chaotic decline, Laozi journeyed west to Hangu Pass, where the guardian Yin Xi, foreseeing the Dao's imminent concealment, requested teachings—prompting Laozi's composition of the five-thousand-character Dao De Jing in two sections.

The text particularly emphasizes Laozi as a timeless, transcendent being distinct from ordinary humans, whose earthly manifestations serve to propagate the Great Dao. This portrayal embodies the Daoist deification of Laozi as the very incarnation of Dao.

Laozi (revered as the Supreme Mysterious Primordial Emperor) is the most exalted patriarch of Daoism, who descended to be born in the region near the Yi River and Bozhou. We of the Tang dynasty revere this great progenitor, whose teachings are an inexhaustible source of blessings. Detailed accounts of Laozi's life and deeds are recorded in historical texts. Daoists regard him as an incarnation of the Heavenly Worthy of Jade Dawn, while Sima Qian called him a "hidden nobleman." Even Confucius once sought his instruction. When Confucius perused Laozi's writings, he was profoundly moved; when inquiring about ritual propriety, he praised Laozi's dragon-like virtue (De), showing genuine reverence for the sage.

Laozi served long in the Zhou court before journeying westward to transmit the Dao. At the pass, the guardian Yin Xi entreated him to leave behind a written work. Thus Laozi composed the two-part Classic of the Way and Virtue (Daode Jing), elucidating the fundamental principles of all things' generation and nourishment. The essence of this scripture may be summarized thus: governing a state requires abandoning superficial pomp, adhering to the principle of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)"; self-cultivation requires diminishing selfish desires, emphasizing emptiness and inner fulfillment. These are teachings that can be verbally transmitted. As for deeper matters—exhaustively investigating cosmic principles, fully realizing one's nature, severing worldly ties, quieting deluded thoughts, adapting flexibly to circumstances, achieving the forgetting of self and objects through "sitting in oblivion," and progressively diminishing desires to reach the mysterious state—these transcend verbal expression.

The teachings of the Daode Jing are perfectly comprehensive, its language concise and refined, its themes clear and distinct, its expression fluid and penetrating. Beginners often presume they've grasped its essence upon first reading, but only through prolonged study and contemplation do they realize they've not comprehended even a ten-thousandth part of its subtleties. This classic reveals the origin of the Dao (the Way)—its vastness encompassing all, its profundity penetrating everything—as the natural principle of heaven-human unity.

My teacher once said: diligent study of this scripture enables resonance with the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji), moving celestial immortals to rejoice in harmonious chanting; quiet contemplation of truth spontaneously reveals various mysterious states; internal observation of one's form and spirit (Shen) preserves vital energy (Qi) and essence (Jing); realizing the true meaning of Dao and De earns the reverence of myriad spirits, dispels calamities, spreads blessings throughout the ten directions, and brings peace to nation and household. Yet who can truly grasp the essence of "non-action"? When turbid, it feels no shame; when adorned, it seeks no glory; stirred, it doesn't muddy; clarified, it doesn't become transparent—this is the Dao of nature. Only by following the great Dao can one perceive true principles; only by transmitting its teachings can they endure eternally. Thus, knowing eternal truth is called illumination. What need has the great Dao for action? Its propagation depends entirely on people. How could such a noble and mysterious classic not merit profound study? I've briefly composed this outline, knowing its true value can only be cherished by those who have attained the Dao.

This passage explores the profound understanding of "Dao" (the Way) as the ultimate source. In the Daode Jing, Laozi describes an innate, primordial existence that predates heaven and earth—an ineffable reality we tentatively name "Dao" or alternatively call "the Great." Those who truly comprehend the Great Dao recognize it as the ultimate state of sublime emptiness.

Zhuangzi further elucidates this concept: the primordial state of the universe was "non-being" (wu), not mere nothingness but a mysterious condition pregnant with infinite potential. Before any names existed, we provisionally termed it "non-being"; when it began generating all things, we called it "Dao." Hence the Daode Jing states that "non-being" is the origin of heaven and earth, while "being" is the mother of all things.

The manifestation of all things depends on the operation of "De" (Virtue/Power)—the vital force all beings receive from the Great Dao. Every transformation in the cosmos and the growth of all creatures rely on this mysterious foundation. Thus the Daode Jing explains that "Dao gives birth" while "De nourishes"—Dao being the essence and De its function. Although the classic divides into two sections discussing Dao first and De second, these form an inseparable unity. Sharing the same origin with different names, both remain profoundly mysterious in nature.

In his preface, Du Guangting notes that Lord Lao (the deified Laozi and supreme Daoist deity) descends to humanity in four primary manifestations: First, as a being who transcends cosmic cycles and appears according to circumstances, recorded in numerous scriptures under 1,200 sacred names. Second, as the fundamental creative force during cosmogenesis—differentiating yin-yang, conceiving sun and moon, and becoming the source of all existence.

In the ancient times before the Shang Dynasty, the Supreme Venerable Lord (Laozi, the highest deity in Daoism) repeatedly manifested as teachers to earthly emperors. Names like Yuhua Zi, Lütu Zi, Guangcheng Zi, and Yinshou Zi all represented his incarnations during different periods. As the eras of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors progressed, social systems evolved naturally like wind and flowing water—from the Cloud Calendar and Dragon Master systems to the Bird Officials and Fire Cycle administrations.

Though the abdication system appeared maintained on the surface, warfare became frequent. The Battle of Banquan saw the Yellow Emperor suppress Chi You, while the Battle of Danpu witnessed Emperor Shun conquering the Youmiao tribe. As cunning strategies proliferated, humanity's innate purity became obscured. When people began ostentatiously praising benevolence and filial piety, the truly profound Dao of Wuwei (non-action) gradually declined. Emperor Yao abdicated due to old age, and Emperor Shun only succeeded after prolonged trials. Though both rulers governed diligently, when the Venerable Lord manifested as Yinshou Zi to transmit the Authentic Scripture of Dao and De (Daode Zhenjing) to Emperor Shun in the Heyang region, the supreme truth of "governing through non-action" had already become difficult to fully realize.

This scripture's essence teaches: Dao takes Wuwei as its root, while De represents its secondary manifestation through action. Like the Three Sovereigns' texts expounding the supreme Dao, the Five Emperors' classics addressed worldly principles. The scripture critiques hypocritical benevolence, artificial rituals, clever stratagems, militaristic violence, and cunning schemes—advocating instead a return to innate purity and governing through effortless non-interference. Though Emperor Shun earnestly practiced these principles—banishing the wicked while elevating the virtuous—he ultimately couldn't fully achieve governance through serene non-action.

By the eras of Yu the Great and Tang of Shang, the world became hereditary domains where people cared only for kin. The great Dao faded from prominence, mystical teachings became difficult to propagate, ritual-music systems grew increasingly elaborate, and governance relied heavily on laws and punishments. Later, during King Wuding's reign in the Shang Dynasty, the Venerable Lord manifested again—this time born in Bozhou (modern Taqing Palace at Jiulong Well, Zhenyuan County, Henan). Appearing intermittently to teach sentient beings, he eventually transmitted the Scripture of Dao and De (Daode Jing) to Yin Xi, the Guardian of Hangu Pass, during King Zhao of Zhou's reign, ensuring the scripture's dissemination throughout the land.

Finally, the Venerable Lord made a covenant with Yin Xi to meet again at Qingyang Market in western Shu, where he manifested his transformed body in the Ding-Si year of King Zhao's reign. Since its transmission at Hangu Pass, over sixty eminent rulers, worthy scholars, and great Confucian thinkers across generations have composed commentaries and explanations for this Scripture of Dao and De.

This passage enumerates the numerous scholars and schools throughout history that have provided commentaries on the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue). Laozi (also known as Lord Lao) initially expounded the Daode Jing to Yin Xi, forming the earliest two systems of commentary: "Jiejie" (Sectional Explanations) and "Neijie" (Inner Explanations). Later generations saw many renowned figures adding their interpretations.

During the Eastern Han dynasty, Zhang Daoling (Celestial Master of the Three Heavens) composed the two-volume Xiang'er Commentary. In the Western Han, during Emperor Wen’s reign, the recluse Heshang Gong wrote his commentary by the Yellow River (where a temple still commemorates him today). During Emperor Wu’s reign, the Shu scholar Yan Junping authored the fourteen-volume Zhigui (Pointing to the Essence).

The Wei-Jin period witnessed a surge in commentators: Wang Bi (styled Fusi), while serving as a secretary in the Wei court, produced an influential annotated edition; He Yan (styled Pingshu), a son-in-law of the Wei imperial family, also wrote a commentary; Guo Xiang (styled Zixuan) expanded upon Xiang Xiu’s interpretations; Zhong Hui (styled Shiji) annotated the text during Emperor Ming of Wei’s reign; and the hermit Sun Deng (styled Gonghe) offered his own reading.

From the Western Jin to the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the tradition of commentary continued: Tai Mountain’s Yang Hu (styled Shuzi) composed a four-volume annotation; the eminent Western Regions monk Kumārajīva (who arrived in China during the Later Qin via the Jade Gate Pass) wrote a two-volume commentary; the monk Fotudeng (who came to China during the Later Zhao) also produced two volumes; and the Eastern Jin monk Seng Zhao authored a four-volume annotation.

During the Liang dynasty of the Southern Dynasties, the renowned Daoist Tao Hongjing (styled Zhenbai Xiansheng) wrote a four-volume commentary; the Northern Wei scholar Lu Yu (also known as White-Headed Elder) contributed two volumes; Liu Renhui of Yi Prefecture’s Liang County in the Northern Wei composed another two-volume work; the Southern Qi scholar Gu Huan (styled Jingyi) produced four volumes; and an anonymous recluse known as the "Pine-Spirit Immortal" from Qingxi Mountain left his own annotations.

Additionally, the commentaries of scholars like Pei Chuen, Du Bi, and Zhang Ping are recorded. Emperor Wu of Liang, Xiao Yan, interpreted the text in four volumes through a Buddhist lens of karma, while his son, Emperor Jianwen Xiao Gang, authored the ten-volume Daode Shuyi (Exposition of the Way and Virtue). Lastly mentioned are the four-volume commentary by Zhang Si of Qinghe and the annotations by Liang-dynasty Daoist Zang Xuanjing (dates unknown). These works reflect the diverse interpretations of the Daode Jing across different periods and schools of thought.

This passage primarily enumerates numerous Daoist scholars and officials throughout history who annotated the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue). From the Northern and Southern Dynasties to the Tang period, many Daoist priests and scholars dedicated themselves to interpreting this classic, leaving behind a wealth of commentaries.

During the Liang Dynasty (Southern Dynasties), the Daoist priest Meng Anpai (styled Da Meng) composed the Jingyi in two volumes, while Meng Zhizhou (styled Xiao Meng) annotated five volumes, and Dou Lue produced a four-volume commentary, their views aligning with those of Emperor Wu of Liang and the renowned Buddhist translator Kumārajīva. The Chen Dynasty Daoist priest Zhu Rou wrote the Xuanlan in six volumes.

In the Sui Dynasty, the Daoist priest Liu Jinxi compiled a six-volume exegesis, and Li Bo annotated the text in two volumes (upper and lower). During the Tang Dynasty, the Grand Astrologer Fu Yi not only annotated one volume but also composed a Yinyi (phonetic and semantic analysis). The Songshan Daoist priest Wei Zheng (later Chancellor under Emperor Taizong of Tang) authored the five-volume Yaoyi (Essential Meanings).

Other significant commentators include: Master Song Wenming (Yiquan, five volumes), the immortal Hu Chao (Yishu, ten volumes), the Daoist priest Anqiu (Zhiguī, five volumes), Yin Wencao (Jianyao Yi, five volumes), Master Wei Lu (styled Chuxuan, four volumes combining commentary and analysis), Wang Xuanbian (Hegong Shiyi, ten volumes), and others.

Tang Dynasty officials and Daoist priests such as the Remonstrance Official Yin Yin (Abbot of the Suming Temple) composed the fifteen-volume Xinyi (New Meanings), Xu Miao annotated four volumes, and the Hanlin Daoist priest He Siyuan wrote the two-volume Zhiqu and the eight-volume Xuanshi. The Hengshan Daoist priest Xue Jichang authored the ten-volume Jinsheng and related works.

There were also figures like Master Hongyuan Wang Di (two volumes of commentary and oral instructions), Master Zhao Jian (Jiangshu, six volumes), Yang Shangshan (an official during Emperor Gaozong of Tang’s reign, who wrote the twenty-volume Daode Jizhu Zhenyan), Jia Zhi (Shuyi, eleven volumes, and Jinniu, one volume), and others. Daoist priests such as Li Yuanxing of Chengdu, Ren Taixuan of Taiyuan, and Shen Fu (styled Master Chongxu) likewise left behind their respective commentaries.

These annotated works reflect the interpretations of the Daode Jing across different periods and schools, showcasing the rich development of Daoist thought. From emperors and officials to mountain-dwelling Daoist priests, all participated in the explication of this classic, demonstrating its profound influence.

This passage primarily introduces the annotations of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) by various Tang dynasty scholars, as well as Emperor Xuanzong's promotion of Daoism.

First, it lists several important commentators of the Daode Jing: Daoist priest Zhang Junxiang composed a four-volume collected commentary; Cheng Xuanying produced a six-volume lecture commentary; Wang Zhen, the governor of Hanzhou, wrote a two-volume treatise on military strategy; Daoist priest Fu Shaoming authored a two-volume genealogy of the Dao; Emperor Xuanzong personally annotated the two volumes of the Daode Jing and composed a six-volume lecture commentary; Wang Guangting, the deputy magistrate of Taiyuan, wrote a two-volume commentary titled Qiyuan; Daoist priest Zhang Huichao produced a four-volume Zhixuan commentary; and Master Gong also compiled a four-volume collected commentary.

These commentaries each have distinctive features: some delve deeply into the concept of "Chongxuan" (a key Daoist philosophical notion referring to the profound state beyond existence and non-existence), unconstrained by rigid views on emptiness and being; others focus on karmic retribution, emphasizing the cycle of rebirth across three lifetimes; some integrate Confucian thought; and others pursue the realm of stillness and non-action (Wuwei). Like gathering rare treasures, each commentary offers its own brilliance.

In terms of cultivation practices, the text describes the imagery of internal alchemy (Neidan): the eight immortal elixirs (Eight Jades) condense like mist and snow in the Dantian (the lower abdominal energy center), while the nine-times refined elixir shines brilliantly in the Crimson Palace (the heart region). Practitioners must master the subtle circulation of the six qi (wind, cold, heat, dampness, dryness, and fire) and receive the protection of the five directional deities. They achieve a state of no-mind and no-thought, breathing through their heels, ultimately realizing the source of the Great Dao.

Regarding spiritual attainment, the text mentions transcending worldly bonds, ascending to the immortal realms, roaming the eight directions, and pointing toward the sacred realms of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing: Jade Pure, Upper Pure, and Supreme Pure), attaining the state of wandering with the Supreme One (Taiyi). However, those who simultaneously master the essentials of both internal and external cultivation, embodying both human and celestial abilities, are exceedingly rare.

Finally, it praises the achievements of Emperor Xuanzong (posthumously titled "Supreme Dao, Illustrious and Filial Emperor"): during his 45-year reign, he governed through non-action (Wuwei), bringing peace to the realm. He revered the Daode Jing, considering this classic to transcend all ages, standing alone between heaven and earth. Although numerous scholars had annotated it, none had fully exhausted its profundity. Emperor Xuanzong devoted himself to its study amidst state affairs, personally annotating all 81 chapters and composing a six-volume commentary. He emphasized both self-cultivation and....

This passage consists of two parts: the preface to Collected Meanings of the Dao De Jing, and a dialogue between Su Zhe (styled Yingbin) and the monk Daoguang. Here is the modern interpretation:

The preface to Collected Meanings of the Dao De Jing states that this work is comprehensive, encompassing both grand strategies for governing the nation and subtle guidance for finer matters. Its literary brilliance rivals the splendor of clouds and rainbows, while its philosophical radiance compares to the sun and moon. Its value stands alongside the Ten Wings of the Book of Changes and the Zhou Nan and Shao Nan sections of the Book of Songs, as if directly transmitted from Laozi (Xuan Yuan being his honorific title). This work transcends the Hundred Schools of Thought and will endure eternally. Though earlier masters produced renowned works like the Song of the Great Wind and Song of the Red Wild Goose, or texts such as Discourses on Literature and Master of the Golden Tower, none can compare. The annotations draw upon classical cross-references including the Book of Documents, Spring and Autumn Annals, the four beginnings of the Book of Songs, and the thought of Zhuangzi (the "Lacquer Garden" referring to him). To help later scholars understand the source, the author extensively consulted numerous texts, conducting deep research to compile his insights into the thirty-volume Expanded Sagely Meanings. Though a torch seems superfluous under the midday sun and minor irrigation appears insignificant when great marshes abound, the author nonetheless humbly supplements what may be lacking. The preface was composed on the sixteenth day of the ninth month in the first year of the Tianfu era (901 CE).

Su Zhe's preface recounts his dialogue with the Chan monk Shi Daoguang during his demotion to Junzhou at age forty-two. Daoguang, a Dharma heir of Southern Chan Master Huangbo, possessed profound spiritual attainment and enjoyed intellectual exchanges with Su Zhe. When Daoguang expounded Buddhist teachings, Su Zhe remarked that these ideas were already present in the Confucian classic Doctrine of the Mean. Challenged on how Confucianism could encompass Buddhist truth, Su Zhe explained that ultimate reality is universal, though ordinary people remain unaware. Quoting the Doctrine of the Mean — "When joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have not yet arisen, this is called the equilibrium (zhong); when they arise in due measure, this is called harmony (he)" — he demonstrated its fundamental identity with the Sixth Chan Patriarch Huineng's teaching of "neither thinking good nor evil." Su Zhe noted that since the Sixth Patriarch, most practitioners had awakened through this phrase, showing that "neither thinking good nor evil" corresponds precisely to the Doctrine of the Mean's state of "unarisen equilibrium."

This passage exemplifies the Song Dynasty fusion of Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist thought, with Su Zhe demonstrating how Confucian heart-mind theory and Chan's insight into original nature share common ground at their root.

This passage records a Song Dynasty literatus's interpretation of the Laozi (Daode Jing) and reflections on the relationship between Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. The text mentions that the concept of "the Mean" (zhong) is essentially another term for the Buddhist notion of "Buddha-nature," while "Harmony" (he) encapsulates the Buddhist practices of the Six Perfections (generosity, precepts, etc.). When one reaches the ultimate state of Mean and Harmony, the myriad things of heaven and earth naturally arise within it.

The author's friend, Master Quan, was initially astonished, believing Confucianism and Buddhism to be fundamentally aligned. However, the author points out: although the ultimate truth is singular, the methods for governing human affairs differ. In the ethical relationships between ruler and subject, father and son, without the constraints of ritual and law, chaos would ensue; yet those who understand only ritual and law without comprehending the Dao are merely mediocre Confucians. Those who retreat to the mountains, live simply with coarse tea and plain food, yet hold the supreme Dao in their hearts may serve as exemplars for humanity and heaven, but attempting to govern a state in this manner would lead to disaster. The ancient sages all practiced the Dao inwardly while upholding worldly order outwardly.

During the five years the author resided in Junzhou, each time he completed a chapter of his Laozi commentary, he would show it to Master Quan, who invariably exclaimed, "This is all Buddhist teaching!" Over twenty years later, the author realized his interpretation of the Laozi indeed harmonized completely with Buddhist doctrine at every turn.

The latter part recounts memories of the author's exile to Haikang, where he reunited with his elder brother Su Shi (Zizhan) in Tengzhou. Su Shi once remarked that among the author's three major works—his poetry, Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, and Ancient History—all reached heights unattained by the ancients, with only the Laozi commentary being slightly inferior. Later, the author revised his Laozi commentary and sent it to Su Shi, but before receiving any feedback, Su Shi passed away. It wasn't until the winter of the first year of the Zhenghe era (1111 CE) that the author discovered, in the manuscripts compiled by his nephew Su Mai, Su Shi's praise for the work: had this book existed during the Warring States period, the harsh legalism of Shang Yang and Han Fei would never have emerged; had it appeared in early Han dynasty, the teachings of Confucius and Laozi could have been unified; had it been present during the Jin and Song periods, Buddhism and Daoism would not have split. Who could have imagined that the study of Laozi could reach such profound heights?

During my decade of residence in Yingchuan, I repeatedly revised and edited this classic. The words of sages cannot be fully comprehended in a single reading, so with each new realization, I dared not consider my previous understanding as definitive. Now in my advanced years, though I believe I've grasped most of it, the opportunity to consult Zizhan (Su Shi) again is lost—I can only shed tears and sigh over these texts.

Zhao Shi'an states in this preface: The primordial substance of the Great Dao (the Way) lies concealed in silent emptiness, while the foundation of daily practice consists in mastering the primal Qi (vital energy). The supreme existence beyond form remains hidden and invisible, while concrete things coexist in mutual relation. Skillful preservation brings stability and avoidance of danger; grasping fundamental principles reveals the mysteries of transformation. The Dao itself shows no partiality, just as heaven and earth nurture all things without controlling them. Who can claim creation is deliberate? The transformations of nature are inherently spontaneous.

The Dao manifests through the operations of all things, neither wholly identical to nor completely separate from them. Those who possess the world call it "divine vessel" (sacred authority), yet it cannot be forcibly held. The De (Virtue) cultivated through personal refinement may manifest as benevolence or righteousness. Those who assist the world value maintaining clarity and Wuwei (non-action), undisturbed by externalities. Seeking the Dao is not difficult—simple and straightforward methods can attain its ineffable mysteries; yet neither is it simple, for whether through speech or silent contemplation, one may fall into the extremes of movement and stillness and lose the truth. Thus the states of "being" and "non-being" can be viewed as unified, and while methods for governing family and state differ, their fundamental principles align.

The essence of the Daode Jing's two parts precisely elucidates the foundation of Dao and De. Its eighty-one chapter structure symbolizes the zenith of yang energy (nine being the ultimate yang number), refining pure yin through the furnace and cauldron (Neidan terminology referring to the human body). The Way of Qian (heavenly principle) unifies all under heaven through non-action, which enlightened rulers emulate. Is it not said: Those who attain the Dao become emperors above and sages below; those who lose it may shine with superficial glory above but become ordinary earth below. Understanding this truth lies entirely in cultivating one's nature—forcing it damages true essence, while cleverness leads to loss. What then should we preserve? Maintain simplicity and tranquility, and attainment comes naturally without striving; what can we obtain? In action, follow without compulsion.

Ancient rulers taught transformation throughout the land without realizing they were practicing the Dao, for the Dao is Wuwei (non-action). By the decline of the Zhou dynasty, though skilled in guiding the world, people knew of the Dao but could not practice benevolence and righteousness. This is why Laozi transmitted the Dao to Yin Xi (Guardian of Hangu Pass), and later Zhuangzi and Liezi further expounded it to the world. Though benevolence and righteousness may govern chaotic times, when disorder reaches...

This text combines two prefaces discussing the core concepts of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) and methods for its interpretation.

The first preface (by Huang Maocai) observes that while people often lament the decline of benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi), the true Dao of the sages has never vanished. The Daode Jing speaks of "the Dao that can be spoken" as distinct from eternal truth—the "constant Dao" (chang dao) remains profound and difficult to grasp. During the era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (legendary sage-rulers of antiquity), governance aligned effortlessly with the natural Dao, but later ages saw human minds grow restless, leading to chaos. The Yijing (Book of Changes) states that the Dao of Qian (Heaven) and Kun (Earth) is simple and comprehensible; only by embodying this principle of serene non-action (wuwei) can one govern in harmony with the Dao’s origin. Gai Gong, a Daoist scholar of the Han dynasty, once said, "Governing a state values tranquility"—precisely the central teaching of the Daode Jing.

The second preface (by Xie Tu’nan) argues that Laozi’s philosophy, though transcendent by nature, contains many passages on statecraft and military strategy—all allegorical expressions. Like Zhuangzi’s use of parables, Laozi often employs metaphors, such as "knowing the male but keeping to the female," or "the valley spirit (gu shen) never dies," where terms like "female," "mysterious feminine" (xuan pin, the womb of creation), and "mother" are symbolic. Some attempt to forcibly reconcile the Daode Jing with Confucian classics, inevitably creating contradictions. The author recounts years of studying the text, composing commentary focused on Laozi’s original intent, and consulting other Daoist works like the Liezi, Zhuangzi, and Yijing to clarify obscure passages—hoping to reveal the scripture’s deeper meaning for future learners.

Finally, the preface notes the Daode Jing’s ancient origins: long before Laozi rode his green ox westward (a legendary episode of his departure from China), these five thousand characters had already unveiled the mysteries preceding heaven and earth’s division.

This passage elucidates the core philosophy and practice attitude of Daoist cultivation. Drawing upon insights from multiple Daoist masters, the author emphasizes that pursuing the Dao requires sincere dedication and persistent effort.

The text notes that Laozi's Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), with its eighty-one chapters and five thousand characters, appears simple yet contains profound truths. Whether in self-cultivation, governing a nation, or attaining immortality, all follow the same natural principles. The verses of Zhang Pingshu (Zhang Boduan, patriarch of the Southern Daoist School) point out that those who achieved immortality throughout history did so by grasping the true essence of classics like the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) and Daode Jing. However, these texts are merely tools—like bamboo traps for catching fish—not the ultimate goal. What truly matters is comprehending the meaning beyond the words.

Attaining immortality is not an inborn divine gift. As the Huangting Neijing (Inner Scripture of the Yellow Court) clearly states: Immortals and Daoist masters achieved the Dao through long-term accumulation of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), coupled with diligent practice. The key lies in single-minded focus and unwavering perseverance. Those who approach cultivation with arrogance or wavering faith will rarely succeed—perhaps only one or two in ten thousand. When the Yellow Emperor sought Guangchengzi (a legendary immortal) to explain the essence of the Yinfu Jing, he was moved to tears. Similarly, when Yin Xi, the Guardian of the Pass, heard Laozi expound the profound principles of the Daode Jing, he knelt and wept—both instances reflecting the deep appreciation of truth’s preciousness.

Finally, the author Xie Tunan stresses that we should cherish these classics as we do Yuanqi (the fundamental energy of life), upholding them throughout our lives. On the Lantern Festival during the Chunyou era (1246 CE, under Emperor Lizong of the Southern Song), he revisited this text in Qiongtai (likely a Daoist temple or retreat) and composed a new preface. Yu Qingzhong adds: The Great Dao originates from the Way of Heaven, but it requires enlightened beings to interpret it—and Laozi was precisely such a once-in-a-millennium transmitter of the Dao.

This rare and profound truth of the world was entrusted by Heaven to Laozi (Lao Shi) for its manifestation. The human body serves as the vessel of the Dao, which dwells within it and finds expression through words, thereby revealing the mysteries of Heaven and Earth and the arcane workings of creation. Thus was born the scripture known as the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue).

Texts exist to record words, and words exist to convey the Dao. All five thousand characters of the Daode Jing speak of the Dao, yet none depart from its fundamental principle. Though dispersed across eighty-one chapters, each passage remains rooted in this same essence. Its most subtle aspects nurture our spiritual nature, its straightforward teachings regulate the body, and its foundational principles govern states and nations—all radiating from this singular source.

Since the emergence of specialized schools of thought, each has claimed exclusive truth while criticizing others. Yang Xiong (Ziyun) once denounced Daoist teachings, and Ban Gu offered similarly harsh critiques, leading to prolonged misinterpretation of the Daode Jing and its wrongful classification as heterodoxy. These critics failed to recognize that while Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism differ in name, they share the same fundamental principle. When Su Zhe (Huangmen) annotated this text and sent it to Su Shi (Dongpo), the latter remarked: Had this book existed during the Warring States period, the Legalist doctrines of Shang Yang and Han Fei would never have arisen. Had it been present in early Han dynasty, the teachings of Confucius and Laozi could have been harmonized. Had it spread during the Jin and Song periods, Buddhism and Daoism would not have split. How could such a classic be dismissed as heterodoxy?

Today, the imperial court honors the teachings of sages and upholds ethical principles. Though many Daoist miscellanies have been burned, the Daode Jing alone stands tall, shining like the sun across the heavens. Just as eliminating decadent Zheng-Wei music makes the noble Shao melodies more revered, and clearing away rubble reveals the pearl’s true worth, this is clearly Heaven’s design. Heaven did not bury this Dao in the past, and now seeks to illuminate it further—so that every household may possess this book, and every person may comprehend it. Yet though people hold the text, they fail to truly understand it; they recite its words without grasping their meaning. O scripture, o scripture—are you merely words? Through words we apprehend the truth, yet once the truth is grasped, the words may be forgotten.

Countless readers throughout history have recited and interpreted this text, with numerous commentaries written before and since. Yet none have truly achieved this state of "forgetting the words." Understanding one aspect often means neglecting another; grasping the superficial while missing the profound—none have fully captured its essence or resolved its ancient enigmas. I have attempted to build upon existing interpretations to elucidate its deeper meanings, drawing evidence from canonical sources and grounding discussions in the wisdom of earlier scholars...

This Collected Meanings of the Dao De Jing does not seek novelty or differ from previous interpretations. In truth, the principles of the universe are boundless—the deeper one delves, the greater the rewards. Were Laozi (Lao Shi) to return to life and see this commentary, he would likely find no cause for regret. As for any potential oversteps or improprieties within, I dare not shirk responsibility. May all kindred spirits read and contemplate it carefully, so that perhaps a thousand years hence, they might glimpse in dreams that elder astride his azure ox (referring to Laozi).

This work primarily offers illustrated explanations of the essential teachings of the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), divided into an upper volume.

This passage primarily discusses the rationale and process behind Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's compilation and commentary on the Daode Jing (Scripture of the Way and Virtue). During his reign, while governing the state, Emperor Xuanzong placed special emphasis on Daoist thought, believing the Great Dao to be the fundamental source of all things in heaven and earth. Lao Jun (Laozi), revered as the founding patriarch of Daoism, authored the Daode Jing, which had been circulating since the era of Emperor Shun and by the Zhou Dynasty had already accumulated numerous annotated versions.

Prior to this, there had been over sixty commentaries on the Daode Jing. Among them, those focusing on statecraft—such as the annotations by Yan Zun, He Shang Gong, and Yang Xiong—were the most renowned, while those centered on self-cultivation—like the commentaries by the Immortal Songling and Xiang’er—were considered the most profound. During the reigns of Emperor Wu and Emperor Jianwen of the Liang Dynasty in the Southern Dynasties, scholars such as Seng Zhao, Kumarajiva, Zang Rongxu, Tao Hongjing, and Gu Huan had all studied this scripture. In the Shu region (modern Sichuan), figures like Ren Zhenzi, Li Yuanxing, and Zhang Daoling (Celestial Master) had widely propagated it.

By the 11th year of the Kaiyuan era (723 CE), Emperor Xuanzong personally composed a commentary on the Daode Jing. The text particularly highlights that the Daode Jing encompasses two core concepts: "Dao" (the Way) and "De" (Virtue/Power). The Dao is the origin from which all things arise, while De is the fundamental force that nurtures them. Whether in governing a state or cultivating the self, neither can be separated from these two principles.

During the Three Kingdoms period, the eminent Daoist Ge Xuan (Immortal Lord Ge) once advised Sun Quan, ruler of Wu, saying: "The Daode Jing contains the most profound truths of heaven and earth—encompassing the patterns of celestial movement, the norms of human society, and the mysteries of divine transformation. It is vast enough to embrace all phenomena yet subtle enough to penetrate the smallest details. It truly deserves earnest adherence." The passage also emphasizes a key idea in the Daode Jing: teaching rulers to govern through wuwei (non-action). For instance, the scripture states: "Renounce sageliness and discard wisdom, and the people will benefit a hundredfold"; "Renounce benevolence and discard righteousness, and the people will return to filial piety and kindness"; "Renounce skill and discard profit, and thieves and robbers will disappear." These are concrete manifestations of governing through non-action.

Here are ten Daoist principles for governing the world, expressed in contemporary terms:

First is governing through Wuwei (non-action). Can we care for the people and administer the state without forceful interference? When rulers refrain from deliberate action, the people naturally transform themselves.

Second, the sovereign must cultivate the Dao in personal practice. Governing the world with Daoist principles ensures the spread of De (Virtue). By grasping eternal principles to address current affairs and mastering the fundamental laws of the Dao, the world naturally submits.

Third is governing through the Dao. When the world is ruled by the Dao, even spirits and deities don't manifest—not because they lack power, but because they cause no harm. Conversely, when the world lacks the Dao, warhorses give birth in the wilds (symbolizing rampant warfare).

Fourth is emulating nature. Humans follow earth's patterns, earth follows heaven's patterns, and the Dao, though eternally Wuwei, accomplishes everything. If rulers maintain this principle, all things will transform naturally.

Fifth is governing with humility. Those who value self-cultivation can be entrusted with the world; those who cherish themselves can be relied upon to govern. Why would the ruler of a mighty state treat the world lightly? Disdain loses subjects, haste forfeits the throne. The sage achieves greatness precisely by not pursuing it.

Sixth is not exalting the worthy. By not glorifying the capable, people won't compete; by not valuing rare goods, people won't steal. Pursue what others neglect, and don't treasure hard-to-obtain things.

Seventh is guiding people toward desirelessness. Keep the people simple and guileless, making the cunning afraid to act. Through Wuwei, nothing remains ungoverned. When I avoid meddling, people prosper naturally; when I'm free of desires, people remain pure. Without selfish desires comes tranquility, and the world settles of its own accord.

Eighth is treating all things equally. Heaven and earth treat all beings impartially (like straw dogs used in rituals and then discarded), and sages treat people the same way. Practice wordless teaching and claim no merit for accomplishments.

Ninth is avoiding stubbornness. Those who force things fail; those who cling lose. Eliminate extremes, extravagance, and excess. Sages have no fixed ideas but take the people's thoughts as their own.

Tenth is recognizing humility as fundamental. Nobility is rooted in humility; height is founded on depth. Rivers and seas become kings of all valleys because they excel at staying low.

This passage from the "Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of Dao and Virtue" primarily expounds on principles of governing a nation, using vivid imagery to instruct rulers on statecraft.

The ability to become the king of all rivers (referring to rulers) lies in excelling at maintaining a low position. The scripture states that only by enduring the nation's humiliations can one become the master of the state altar; only by bearing the country's calamities can one become the ruler of the realm. Larger states should be even more humble and lowly, for sovereigns skilled in employing others often appear modest. If a major state treats smaller states with humility, it will naturally win their allegiance.

Here it teaches feudal lords to govern with proper principles (zhengdao). Using cleverness to rule may instead bring disaster to the state, while governing without cunning artifice brings the nation's blessing. When the people prove difficult to govern, it's often because their rulers employ too much cleverness. Governing a large state should be like cooking small fish—one must not stir them excessively. If the court is overly adorned while fields lie barren and granaries empty, such excessively scrutinizing governance will make the people crafty.

Those who assist the Son of Heaven with the Dao do not glorify military force. Over-reliance on arms cannot achieve true victory, for those truly skilled at winning do not contend with others. Even when possessing weapons and armor, they do not employ them lightly. Arms are inauspicious instruments, to be used only when unavoidable. The adept victor takes no pride in such means.

Ancient masters of governance acted with subtle penetration. Their administration appeared muddled, yet the people remained simple. In warfare, they dared not take the offensive but preferred to hold their ground. When armies faced each other, the side moved by righteous indignation was more likely to prevail. No disaster surpasses underestimating one's enemy; the truly valiant do not flaunt their strength. The virtue of non-contention is most precious.

When people starve, it's often because their rulers overtax them. When the populace pursues too many exotic skills and crafts, all manner of strange objects emerge. Just as fish cannot leave deep waters, a nation's instruments of power and strategy should not be lightly displayed. Ancient practitioners of the Dao sought not to make the people clever, but to preserve their simplicity.

Finally, it mentions that both governing a state and cultivating oneself require holding to the Three Treasures (referring to compassion, frugality, and not presuming to lead the world).

This passage expounds the core principles of self-cultivation. It begins by presenting three fundamental tenets: first, maintaining a compassionate heart (慈 ci); second, living with frugality (俭 jian); and third, refraining from aggressive competition or seeking to surpass others.

Chapter 19 teaches that yielding preserves wholeness, while steadfast gentleness ultimately prevails. The scripture states "bending allows for preservation" and further declares "the soft overcomes the hard," observing that "gentleness manifests life's vitality, whereas rigidity signals death's approach." Those who act with brute force often meet untimely ends.

Chapter 20 instructs practitioners to cultivate wuwei (non-action) and desirelessness. The text advises "only in desirelessness can one perceive the Dao's mysteries" and "by avoiding temptation, the mind remains undisturbed."

Chapter 21 reveals the way of nurturing life: safeguarding the Great Dao and harmonizing Qi (vital energy) to preserve vitality. Achieve profound mental stillness while gently guiding the breath; prioritize inner refinement over sensory indulgence; comprehend illumination yet dwell in obscurity, perceive manifestations but hold to the root. Let genuine Qi flow continuously like a silken thread—present yet barely perceptible—and employ it without exhaustion.

Chapter 22 discusses elevating goodness while eliminating negativity: when people obsess over distinguishing beauty from ugliness or good from evil, opposition arises. True wisdom rescues all beings without abandoning any. The virtuous become teachers for the unvirtuous. Withdraw sharp edges and resolve conflicts—supreme goodness embraces like water.

Chapter 23 emphasizes accumulating De (virtue) as foundational: those with profound virtue remain receptive like mountain valleys. Noble individuals establish themselves with substance rather than superficiality, pursuing essence over ornamentation. The exemplary person acts with consistent prudence, steady as a heavily laden cart.

Chapter 24 teaches commitment to the Dao: superior practitioners diligently practice upon hearing the Great Way, courageously demonstrating gentleness that ensures survival.

Chapter 25 instructs relinquishing worldly achievements: abandoning conventional knowledge brings freedom from worry; accomplishing merit then withdrawing without claiming credit. Daily reduce attachments in cultivation, understanding whether reputation or life holds greater value.

Chapter 26 warns against coveting material gains: weigh life's importance against possessions, as excessive hoarding brings greater loss. Over-accumulation leads to forfeiture; rare treasures misguide people.

Chapter 27 concludes by advocating transcendence over external temptations while preserving inner purity.

This scripture expounds the wisdom of Daoist self-cultivation through multiple teachings:

On human conduct, it states: Only by not flaunting oneself can one remain clear-headed; only by not boasting can one achieve merit; only by not being arrogant can one endure. True eloquence appears inarticulate, true skill appears clumsy. The greatest virtue (De) seems insufficient, the loudest sound goes unheard. Knowing oneself constitutes wisdom; conquering oneself makes one strong.

It teaches practitioners to avoid pursuing wealth and status: Both favor and disgrace unsettle the mind. Water overfilled will overflow; an over-sharpened blade breaks easily. Wealth coupled with arrogance invites misfortune.

On speech and action: Recognizing one's ignorance is wise; pretending to know is a flaw. Excessive speech leads to trouble—moderation is preferable. Easy promises prove hard to keep; taking things lightly invites greater difficulties. Close the gates of sensory desires, and you'll remain untroubled for life.

For spiritual cultivation, it advocates going against worldly ways: While others are shrewd, remain simple; while others scrutinize, stay unfocused. The luminous Dao appears dim; the advancing path seems like retreat.

On nurturing the spirit (Shen): The mystery of emptiness never fades—this is the womb of all wonders. Deep roots ensure lasting vitality. What is well-established cannot be uprooted; what is firmly held cannot slip away.

Concerning life: Physical death with an undying spirit constitutes true longevity. Self-cultivation requires self-forgetting and non-action (Wuwei): Putting oneself last leads the way; standing apart preserves wholeness.

The mind should be empty as a valley: Empty your heart, weaken your desires. In worldly affairs, dim your radiance: Temper brilliance, blend with the dust. The great Dao flows everywhere, omnipresent—coarse exteriors often conceal inner jade.

On abandoning desires: Gorgeous colors blind the eye, loud music deafens the ear, rich flavors dull the palate, and reckless hunting deranges the mind. When people cease fearing authority, greater calamity approaches.

Finally, it teaches to reduce excess to supplement deficiency: Use surplus to fill what's lacking. The more you give, the richer you become.

This scripture primarily discusses the importance of the Dao (the Way) in human life and the dialectical relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu).

First, it cites examples from the Daode Jing to illustrate: Those who act in accordance with the Dao will not encounter rhinos or tigers when traveling on land, nor will they suffer harm from weapons when entering battle, because they do not place themselves in fatal situations. These examples demonstrate the vastness and subtlety of the Dao—so expansive it encompasses all things, yet so minute it exists in the finest details, far beyond what thirty-eight key points could ever summarize.

Next, it uses metaphors to emphasize the Dao’s indispensability: For a ruler, lacking the Dao is like having no eyes; for a minister, lacking the Dao is like having no internal organs; for a household, lacking the Dao is like a corpse devoid of breath. Thus, the Dao is something humans cannot be without for even a moment. Yet the Dao also transcends language—it is profoundly mysterious, something that can only be grasped intuitively, never fully conveyed through words.

Wang Yuanze (a Song Dynasty scholar) further elaborates: The Dao is singular, yet it can be understood from two perspectives—"being" and "non-being." "Non-being" (wu) is the root of the Dao, embodying its mysterious essence, while "being" (you) is its manifestation, appearing in concrete phenomena. The origin of the Dao arises from the depths of emptiness and stillness, while its manifestations disperse into countless forms. Ordinary people often separate these two aspects, but in truth, they are unified within the Dao.

"Non-being" is called the beginning of heaven and earth, while "being" is called the mother of all things. Though their names differ, they function in mutual dependence. Just as east and west are opposites yet neither can exist without the other, without "being," "non-being" cannot be perceived, and without "non-being," "being" cannot arise. This mutual transformation between being and non-being is what sages call the wondrous state—akin to what the Yijing describes as "no thought, no action, utterly still yet responsive to all under heaven."

(Note: Chongxu refers to the empty nature of the Dao, yaomiao describes its profound and unfathomable depth, and xingming dushu refers to the forms, names, and laws of concrete phenomena.)

The sage constantly apprehends the profound mystery of the Dao through a state of "no-thought and non-action" (wusi wuwei), while comprehending the patterns of worldly transformation through resonance with all things. These two modes of observation—the mysterious and the patterned—are both mastered without bias. Who but one who communicates with the divine could achieve this? Herein lies the way of the sage: contemplating mystery to exhaust spiritual mechanism (shenji), observing patterns to understand transformation. One who can exhaust spiritual mechanism and understand transformation thereby fully grasps the Dao of heaven and earth.

Yet it must be noted that observing mystery merely serves to exhaust spiritual mechanism—it is not equivalent to spiritual mechanism itself. True spiritual mechanism has never separated from the two states of "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu), yet these concepts cannot fully describe it. Hence the saying "these two emerge together but differ in name"—both originate from spiritual mechanism, merely named differently as "being" and "non-being." The sage who comprehends this attains virtue (De) that connects with the divine: dwelling in "non-being" he perceives mystery, abiding in "being" he knows patterns, ultimately transcending the nominal distinctions between "being" and "non-being." Thus he apprehends the origin of heaven and earth above, while responding to the beginnings of all things below.

These teachings of Laozi resonate profoundly with the Yi Jing (Classic of Changes), yet why did they ultimately not attain equal standing with Confucian doctrine? Because the sage fundamentally had no desire to speak excessively about the Dao's true essence—when compelled to speak, it was always to address worldly transformations and resolve ordinary people's confusion. Although the Dao encompasses both "being" and "non-being," the sage's teachings emphasize "being" while treating "non-being" briefly. The Classics of Poetry, Documents, Rites, Music, and Spring and Autumn Annals all focus on elucidating the dimension of "being"; only the Yi Jing discusses "non-being," and even then must rely on hexagram lines, judgments, and concrete expressions of fortune/misfortune/regret/remorse.

This mode of expression demonstrates great wisdom: those of high understanding looking downward can perceive the essence of "being" through concrete phenomena, while ordinary people looking upward can glimpse the mystery of "non-being" through appearances. Thus the worthy grow ever more enlightened through study, while the dull are not confused by it. The sage remained ever concerned: those profound principles might prove incomprehensible to ordinary people—if expressed too abstrusely, they would only breed doubt.

This passage examines the core concepts of "wu" (non-being) and "you" (being) in the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), along with varying interpretations by later scholars. Laozi considers "wu" as fundamental, emphasizing its primacy over "you." However, the text critiques Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin dynasty Neo-Daoist philosopher) for misinterpreting Laozi's original intent by absolutizing "wu."

When Laozi states that "the nameless is the origin of heaven and earth," he means that the primordial state of the cosmos is an indescribable "wu" beyond language. Yet Wang Bi takes "wu" to an extreme, arguing that even concepts like "shen" (spirit) should not be named—an untenable position, as all things inherently possess names. The passage also critiques Wang Bi's skewed understanding of desire. Laozi advocates "not displaying what is desirable keeps the heart unconfused," suggesting moderation of desires rather than their complete negation. Indulgence in desire, after all, leads to self-loss.

Liu Zhongping (a Song dynasty Daoist) offers an interpretation closer to Laozi's original meaning: the true "chang dao" (eternal Dao) cannot be confined to fixed descriptions—it is omnipresent yet formless and traceless. The "taichu" (primordial state of the cosmos) is "wu," but this "wu" is not sheer nothingness; it is the source of all things. "The nameless" marks the beginning of heaven and earth, while "the named" is the mother of all things—akin to the relationship between father and mother. The Dao itself encompasses two dimensions: "miao" (the subtle essence) and "jiao" (the tangible manifestations). Neither aspect should be overemphasized at the expense of the other.

This discussion reveals the heart of Daoist thought: the Dao is both transcendent and immanent, formless yet manifest in all things. To comprehend it, one must avoid two extremes—neither absolutizing "wu" as Wang Bi did, nor fixating solely on concrete phenomena while neglecting the Dao's fundamental nature.

This passage discusses two approaches to observing phenomena. Ordinary people tend to perceive only surface appearances (jiao), while sages can penetrate through appearances to perceive the underlying essence (miao). To perceive the essence requires maintaining a state of "desirelessness" (wuyu), while observing appearances requires adopting a perspective of "desire" (youyu).

The essence (miao) is concealed within appearances (jiao) - appearances are coarse while essence is subtle. The "constant non-being" (chang wu) mentioned here is not absolute nothingness, but a higher state that transcends the duality of "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu). Similarly, "constant being" (chang you) is not ordinary existence, but the true reality beyond such distinctions. These two seemingly opposite states actually share the same origin and ultimately return to "xuan" (the profound and unfathomable ultimate truth).

Zhuangzi teaches that we should use both "constant non-being" and "constant being" to establish our cognitive framework. "Constant non-being" helps us comprehend essence, while "constant being" allows observation of phenomena. Yet the highest state transcends this dichotomy, reaching the condition of "xuan zhi you xuan" (the profound within the profound) - which is the gateway to all mysteries. Here, "xuan" represents the substance of profundity, while "miao" manifests its functional expression.

Liu Ji's commentary notes that the original Daode Jing wasn't divided into chapters - later editors created the 81-chapter structure to correspond with cosmological numbers (9×9=81 representing heaven-earth numerology). The text begins with "The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao," showing the Dao's transcendence of ordinary understanding, and concludes with "True words are not beautiful," demonstrating the Dao's ineffability. The entire scripture resembles a vast ocean that cannot be fully grasped - it opens by declaring the Dao's unspeakable nature and returns to this theme at the end, creating perfect symmetry between beginning and conclusion.

The pursuit of supreme attainment may seem as distant as climbing to heaven, yet its fundamental principle is profoundly simple: achieving the ultimate state of emptiness and stillness (referring to a mind clear and free of distractions). This truth is easy to understand and simple to practice, yet few in the world accomplish it because they constantly open the gates of desire (referring to sensory cravings) and become entangled in worldly affairs.

The ancient masters who truly comprehended the Dao would block the apertures of desire, close the doors of temptation, dissolve contention, and maintain an undistracted mind, abiding peacefully within the Dao. They returned to the original source of emptiness and stillness, restoring the primordial state of their nature and destiny (referring to one's innate essence and heavenly mandate). Just as all things arise from their roots and ultimately return to them, returning to the origin allows one to repair their true nature and revert to the Dao and its Virtue (De). When Virtue reaches its zenith, one returns to the original state of pristine simplicity, becoming one with the Dao.

This state is continuous and indescribable, ultimately returning to the "state of no-thing" (referring to the ultimate reality beyond form). Neither born nor perishing, neither self nor name. Existence and non-existence are entirely within one's control; entry and exit encounter no obstructions. Coming and going leave no trace, appearing and disappearing unpredictably. This realm cannot be measured by worldly standards of intimacy, benefit, nobility, or baseness, thus transcending material things and human society, surpassing the limitations of heaven, earth, and Yin-Yang.

The greatest sages and divine beings all attained the supreme state through this method. Those who understand its principles are few, and those who practice them even fewer, yet its efficacy is immense. This method is exquisitely profound—learners should silently comprehend it and cultivate it deeply. Without personal effort and realization, merely observing and debating in search of the Dao is like viewing the sky from the bottom of a well—how could one truly grasp the appearance of the Great Dao?

Zhao Shi'an (a Yuan dynasty Daoist) said: The mysterious Dao is inherently empty, existing before the formation of heaven and earth. The purest Dao manifested through the Dragon Han kalpa (a cosmological cycle in Daoist thought), transmitted through generations of masters across three kalpas (referring to vast cosmic cycles). When the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) first divided and heaven and earth had just opened, human affairs were simple, and customs were pure. The Three Sovereigns (ancient sage-kings) created tools by emulating nature, without cunning or falsehood—what need was there for ritual regulations?

As the kalpa declined, the pure and simple customs gradually dissipated. It was not that the classics were lost, but that the words failed to reveal their true meaning. The earliest teachings began in the era of Emperor Shun, ultimately achieving orderly governance; the golden words (referring to Laozi's teachings) spread widely during the Zhou dynasty, illuminating profound passages. Though successive emperors issued edicts, the true transmission lay with the Guardian of the Pass (referring to Yin Xi, Laozi's disciple). Emperor Xuanzong of Tang personally annotated the Daode Jing and decreed that the people preserve it, while Emperor Huizong of Song revered Daoist scriptures. In those times, people yearned for the Great Dao as if gazing at the Celestial Azure (the highest Daoist heaven). The transmission through the ages remains unbroken, its radiance eternal. As for the myriad commentaries of later generations, though they pile as high as mountains and fill carts to overflowing...

This scripture primarily elucidates the historical context of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) and the core tenets of Daoist philosophy.

During the decline of the Zhou dynasty, social order collapsed, rituals and music fell into disuse, and competing schools of thought proliferated in chaos. Observing the weakening of the Zhou royal house and the loss of humanity's innate simplicity, Laozi composed the Daode Jing, advocating a return to unadorned authenticity. He promoted sincerity and steadfastness while rejecting artificial rites, hollow righteousness, and cunning intellect. His hope was for people to rediscover the pristine nature of heaven and earth and the great Dao (Way) of ancient sages.

Confucius lived during the same era, traveling between states to promote benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi), yet failing to gain favor with rulers. Though both Laozi and Confucius were concerned with social issues, their solutions differed fundamentally: Laozi advocated returning to primal simplicity, while Confucius emphasized moral cultivation through ritual and education. This illustrates how, in an age of collapsing traditions, neither profound Daoist teachings nor Confucian ethical doctrines could be effectively implemented.

Regarding interpretations of the Dao (Way), two main perspectives prevailed at the time: One viewed the Dao as a transcendent state of emptiness, tranquility, and Wuwei (non-action), pursued by lofty ascetics; the other saw the Dao manifested in rites, laws, and governance, followed by pragmatic moderates. Those who sought emptiness and tranquility often withdrew to mountains and forests, distancing themselves from worldly affairs—though their spiritual attainment was profound, they offered little practical benefit to society.

This passage reveals the historical conditions that gave rise to Daoist thought and its fundamental divergence from Confucianism. Laozi identified the root of social disorder in humanity's loss of innate purity, hence advocating to "reject sageliness and discard wisdom" and "return to unhewn simplicity." This stands in stark contrast to Confucius' reformist approach of "restraining the self and returning to ritual."

This passage explores the relationship between the "lofty transcendence" and "golden mean" approaches in Daoist philosophy. The author asserts that truly realized individuals (zhiren, perfected persons) transcend worldly concerns, viewing even the most significant affairs of state as worthless as worn-out shoes, never allowing external matters to disturb their inner peace. Those who follow the middle way (xianren, worthy persons) dedicate themselves to maintaining social order through establishing rituals, music systems, and ethical norms—a path of benefiting society and nourishing the people.

The author critiques views that oppose these two realms, demonstrating they both originate from the same great Dao of the sages. Whether withdrawing from or engaging with the world, sages embody the complete cultivation of "inner sageliness and outer kingliness": maintaining internal emptiness and tranquility (neisheng, inner sageliness) while establishing external achievements (waiwang, outer kingliness). Emptiness and stillness aren't escapism, but the root for nurturing proper Dao; serenity isn't uselessness, but the foundation for accomplishing all things; solitude isn't passivity, but the key to seizing opportune moments.

Using water and waves as metaphor, the text illustrates how innate nature and emotional expressions are fundamentally unified, just as water and its ripples are inseparable. Laozi composed the Daode Jing precisely because he witnessed people losing their fundamental nature during the Zhou dynasty's decline, wishing to save the world with complete understanding. Later generations misunderstood Laozi's original intent, forcibly dividing Daoist learning into two opposing schools: "within the square" (worldly engagement) and "beyond the square" (transcendental detachment)—a complete distortion of the sages' original purpose. Authentic Daoist learning encompasses both the transcendent realm of lofty wisdom and the practical way of the golden mean, which are fundamentally one unified whole.

The Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of Dao and De discusses three levels of comprehending the Great Dao (Da Dao) and the proper sequence for studying the classics. Throughout history, scholars' interpretations of the Daodejing have often been one-sided—some emphasizing the Way of non-action (Wuwei), others focusing solely on longevity practices, while others confined themselves to statecraft. In truth, these three aspects are fundamentally one.

The Great Dao may appear intangible and elusive, yet it contains the principles for governing the world. Conversely, the methods of statecraft are themselves manifestations of the Dao. As for cultivating the mind and refining the Golden Elixir (Jindan), these concrete practices cannot be reduced to a single theoretical framework. Those who truly grasp the Great Dao understand how the upper and lower passages of the scriptures resonate with each other—all methods converge at the source, and any perspective can lead to enlightenment.

The text particularly emphasizes the importance of studying the classics in the correct sequence. When Laozi composed the Daodejing, he first spoke of "Dao" and only then of "De" (Virtue/Power). Similarly, Zhuangzi's discussion of the "Nine Transformations" begins with "Heaven" before addressing Dao and De—this sequence carries profound meaning. The Great Dao takes "no origin" (Wu Zong) as its fundamental principle and "no ancestor" (Wu Zu) as its source. When sages composed scriptures, they always took Dao as their basis, for the nature of Dao is supremely mysterious, ultimately returning to emptiness. The constant Dao cannot be described in words, and the constant name does not point to any concrete thing. Being and non-being give rise to each other—this is the realm of "ascending to the mysterious" (Sheng Xuan).

Only after reaching the state where both affairs and principles are forgotten can one enter the "profoundly mysterious" (Chong Xuan) realm—a deeper level of mystery. Here, good and evil manifest as six pairs of opposites, while wondrous contemplation (Miao Guan) swiftly shifts into the state of non-action. Outwardly, one moves freely without constraint; inwardly, all is vast and empty. The root of the Great Dao indeed lies in non-action, and the ability to see through the relationship between form and emptiness is the mark of one who has attained the Dao. Only through effortless non-action can one awaken to the sage's realm. Deliberately using words to dismantle delusions, however, only leads one further from the true Dao.

The passage specifically notes that the Han Dynasty achieved governance through simplicity and sincerity, while the Jin Dynasty's indulgence in empty talk led to decline—proof that truly understanding and embodying Dao and De is no easy task. Those who read the scriptures and find themselves bewildered, even doubting whether these are the words of sages, have yet to grasp the true meaning of Dao and De.

This scripture elucidates the core principles and cultivation methods of Daoist practice. It begins by stating that practitioners who still harbor distracting thoughts cannot attain true emptiness and clarity. Genuine purity requires a mind as limpid as the bright moon, practicing Wuwei (non-action) without forced striving. Maintaining one's original nature as luminous as the open sky constitutes the foundation of cultivation—the state of absolute void.

Zhuangzi taught that cultivation should manifest externally as gentleness and humility while embodying internally the capacity to embrace all things without destruction. Daoism comprises different schools: the Nature School (cultivating mind and nature) seeks liberation from constraints to return to original authenticity, while the Life School (cultivating life-force techniques) emphasizes fortifying fundamental energies. Practice must progress from "non-being" into the realm of "being," then return from "being" back to the void state of "non-being." The essence of Dao lies in Wuwei; to comprehend the Dao's purpose, one must take emptiness as the ultimate aim.

The text presents five essential cultivation principles: Doctrine (taking teachings as foundation, principles as orientation), Dual Illumination (taking being/non-being as foundation, mystical unity as orientation), Self-Restraint (taking gentleness as foundation, self-mastery as orientation), True Cause (taking authentic cultivation as foundation, longevity as orientation), and Spiritual Transformation (taking simplicity as foundation, returning to antiquity as orientation).

It then discusses the unity of heavenly Dao and human Dao. Understanding this principle leads to the Great Harmony. Through cultivation, humans can commune with heavenly Dao. Sages are those who comprehend heavenly Dao; now that sages are absent, we must realize this through scriptures. The Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Daoism's highest deity) descended during the decline of the Zhou dynasty to impart the Dao De Jing for humanity's edification. The scripture contains both governance principles addressing that era's turmoil and eternal, unchanging truths.

Finally, it indicates that restoring the ancient Dao enables returning to original purity. Through mind cultivation and nature nourishment, one may reverse aging; clearing distracting thoughts grants access to mystical realms. When rulers cultivate, peace prevails; when lords cultivate, states stabilize; when officials cultivate, they fulfill their duties with utmost loyalty.

When ordinary people follow these principles, they can preserve their innate simplicity and harmony; when practitioners cultivate accordingly, they may ascend as immortals; when military strategists master these laws, they achieve victory. All these embody the transmission of human wisdom rooted in the Dao.

This scripture belongs to the Three Caverns (Dongzhen, Dongxuan, Dongshen) classification system of Daoist texts. Its core teaches the eternal and unchanging "Dao" and "Name," advocating the cultivation method of clarity, stillness, and wuwei (non-action). The true Dao has no form or appearance—it cannot be seen or heard, yet it is inexhaustible, existing even before the Celestial Emperor. This is the supreme Dao that cannot be grasped through conceptual images.

The text presents six pairs of complementary concepts (such as favor/disgrace, self-preservation/self-abandonment) to teach the principle that softness overcomes hardness. Both governing a nation and serving Heaven require understanding moderation. Ruling a large state is like cooking small fish—it shouldn't be stirred excessively. The most skillful ruler makes people unaware of his presence, governing through wuwei so the people naturally transform.

From personal cultivation to state governance, everything relies on three fundamental principles: compassion, frugality, and not presuming to lead the world. Warfare should be approached with the solemnity of mourning rites. These seemingly subtle principles all ultimately teach self-cultivation.

The scripture's discussion of "the valley spirit never dying" (referring to the Dao's eternity) teaches people to nourish their inner being while maintaining emptiness and stillness, unifying spirit (shen) and form. One comprehends the true Dao in the indistinct state between consciousness and unconsciousness—though these principles appear simple, few truly understand and practice them. This already touches upon advanced cultivation methods like refining the nine-cycle golden elixir (Golden Elixir) for longevity, belonging to supreme practice.

This classic perfectly integrates the dual cultivation of nature (spiritual refinement) and life (physical cultivation), containing both sudden enlightenment approaches and gradual cultivation stages to form a complete system. While Yin Xi (Laozi's disciple) is considered the representative transmitter, the single character "Dao" already contains the most profound truth.

Regarding methods of refining life and cultivating qi (vital energy) to nourish spirit (shen), though all are paths transcending life and death, ultimately one must merge life cultivation into the great Dao to attain wuwei. Other classics often begin with mastering destiny to explore the mysteries of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). But this text particularly emphasizes: discussing the great Dao requires comprehensive understanding, and cultivating spiritual powers demands mastery of transformations. To simplistically regard the Dao as empty nothingness, believing the soul perishes with death like wood, stone, or beasts, is to fundamentally misunderstand the Dao's wondrous transformations. All scriptures originate from the great Dao, differing only in the three vehicles (superior, middle, and inferior cultivation levels) of practice.

This scripture primarily elucidates the operating principles of the Great Dao (Da Dao) and the reverence successive emperors held for Daoism. The general meaning is as follows:

The Great Dao itself has no fixed form, yet manifests according to the opportunities of each era. From the Five Kalpas period (five cosmic cycles in Daoist cosmology) at the dawn of creation, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, the supreme deity in Daoism) has governed the operations of the Dao. Since the era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, successive rulers have transmitted the Dao lineage—some adapting it according to circumstances, others witnessing its rise and decline with events.

For instance, the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi) obtained the Numinous Treasure Talismans (Lingbao Fulu), Yu the Great of Xia inherited the talismanic methods, while Yao and Shun transmitted the classics. During the Zhou dynasty, clear signs of the Great Dao appeared; Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han sought immortality techniques. Empress Dowager Dou and Emperor Wen of the Han dynasty devoutly followed the Way of True Origin (Zhenyuan). The Tang dynasty honored Laozi as Sacred Ancestor and established the Xuanxue (Mysterious Learning) system. By Emperor Huizong of Song's reign, with his purified mind and extraordinary wisdom, he received secret transmissions from the Celestial Emperor, continued the Dao lineage's destiny, established Golden Register Ritual Sites (Jinlu Dao Chang), expanded the Shenxiao Palaces, formulated the Flying Celestial Dharma Wheel liturgy, compiled Daoist canons, propagated the essence of the Daode Jing, widely promoted Xuanxue education, implemented imperial examinations to select Daoist priests, and awarded court officials to manage Daoist temples. He personally participated in creating celestial talismans, poetic hymns, and symbolic diagrams.

The scripture particularly emphasizes sixteen characteristics of the Great Dao: First, it governs all methods through constancy; second, it connects existence and non-existence through mystery; third, it makes "the mystery beyond mysteries" the gate to all wonders; fourth, it takes non-action (Wuwei) as the root of action; fifth, it achieves great victory through non-contention; sixth, it experiences true joy within apparent joylessness; seventh, it conceals true numbers within apparent numeracy; eighth, it regards supreme treasures as sacred instruments; ninth, it employs retreat as advancement in military strategy; tenth, it stabilizes the world through "governing without words"; eleventh, it restores ancient prosperity during degenerate ages; twelfth, it appears unremarkable yet embraces all things; thirteenth, it upholds "guarding the One" as the principle for self-cultivation and state governance; fourteenth, it seems simple yet encompasses all scriptures; fifteenth, it reveals the nature of principle without discussing it; sixteenth, it comprehensively unifies Dao, De (Virtue), nature, and life, verifying each through the others. These characteristics demonstrate the divine and wondrous functions of the Great Dao.

This passage primarily discusses the textual structure and transmission context of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue). Let me explain it section by section:

Regarding the timing of the Daode Jing's transmission, the text states that this classic gained prominence during the Han dynasty when the recluse Heshang Gong expounded its profound principles, and its importance grew further when the Tang imperial family venerated Laozi (Lord Lao). This illustrates how the flourishing of a classic is connected to the zeitgeist—during peaceful and prosperous eras, Daoism naturally thrives. As the Duren Jing (Scripture of Salvation) states, "It is transmitted only once every forty thousand kalpas," and the Zhuangzi remarks, "It appears once in ten thousand generations." To seek the true meaning, one must rely on linguistic tools (the "traps and snares" metaphor referring to language), but practitioners must never forget the fundamental teachings.

Next comes an analysis of the classic's structural conventions. All scriptures are divided into "general prefaces" (tongxu) and "specific prefaces" (biexu): the general preface introduces the text's overarching themes, while specific prefaces explain individual chapters. For instance, the Duren Jing contains front, middle, and rear prefaces, whereas the Daode Jing treats the entire text as the "general" framework and its eighty-one chapters as "specific" components.

Concerning the origins of the classic's teachings, although the opening doesn't specify where Laozi (Lord Lao) spoke or to whom, historical records like the Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian) indicate he primarily expounded it for Yin Xi, the guardian of Hangu Pass. This represents a crucial karmic connection related to the cultivation of nature (xing) and life (ming). As the Xisheng Jing (Scripture of Western Ascension) records, Yin Xi noticed purple vapors (an auspicious omen) emanating from the east and prepared himself through fasting to receive Laozi, who then delivered the two parts of the Daode Jing.

From a textual perspective, scriptures typically consist of three sections: the introductory section (yuanqi, origins), the orthodox section (core teachings), and the dissemination section (exhortations for propagation). The Daode Jing lacks a formal introductory dialogue (missing the preface) and a concluding exhortation (missing the dissemination section). Later generations supplemented these by using Ge Hong's preface as the introduction, treating the eighty-one chapters as the orthodox core, and considering subsequent transmissions as the dissemination. The Lingbao Jing (Numinous Treasure Scripture) proposes an alternative division: taking ultimate realization as the preface, cultivation as the orthodox core, and enlightenment as dissemination.

Finally, the passage cites Shao Ruoyu's interpretation: The Dao (Way) manifests truth through wuwei (non-action), while youwei (action) is merely provisional expediency aimed at helping people comprehend the wisdom of "non-being." De (Virtue/Power) is the wondrous function arising from realization of the Dao. This understanding aligns with the fundamental Daoist principle of "Dao as substance, De as function."

This passage elucidates the all-encompassing nature of the concepts of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power). By comparing perspectives from Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, the author illustrates the gradual process required for spiritual cultivation.

The text first explains the layers of Dao: the most fundamental state is the "Great Change" (大易), a formless void where even Qi (vital energy) has yet to manifest. When the Great Change begins to move, it generates the primordial "One Qi" (一气), known as the "Great Beginning" (太初). As Qi takes shape, it is called the "Great Origin" (太始). When Qi and form combine to produce qualities of hardness and softness, it is termed the "Great Simplicity" (太素). The undifferentiated fusion of Qi, form, and essence is called "Chaos" (混沌). When Chaos divides, the interaction of Yin-Yang energies gives rise to a central Qi that transforms into all things—this is what Laozi described as "Dao begets the One, the One begets the Two, the Two begets the Three, and the Three begets the myriad things."

The passage notes that while Laozi, Confucius, and the Buddha (释氏) express it differently, they all point to the same Dao. Laozi provisionally names it the "One," Confucius refers to it as the metaphysical "Way," and Buddhism, in its Four Noble Truths (苦集灭道), also speaks of the path. To comprehend the realm of "non-being" (无), one must begin with "being" (有).

"Superior De" (上德), the highest level of Virtue, manifests as governing through Wuwei (non-action), using the "One" as the principle to order the world. This state resembles the natural growth of all things without possession, acting without claiming merit. Because it does not force action, it does not fail; because it does not cling, it does not lose.

"Inferior De" (下德), the next level, governs by the laws of Yin-Yang, akin to Confucius’s "one principle that runs through all." This approach establishes norms (such as the Five Constants and myriad practices) to rectify human relationships. If one becomes attached to these norms, it becomes "external De," whereas "internal De" maintains the state of holding to the "One."

The text particularly emphasizes that the Great Dao itself is nameless, traceless, unborn, undying, and eternally unchanging—the supreme existence. Sages observe the patterns of heaven and earth to establish human institutions for governing the world. The key to cultivating the Dao lies in understanding its layers of depth, requiring gradual and methodical progress.

The state is like the root of a great tree. If it can hold fast to the Dao (the fundamental principle of the universe) without deviation, its foundation will grow deep and strong, ensuring the nation's enduring existence. Confucius regarded this state as the highest virtue, advocating the Dao as the fundamental basis.

The "Middle Way" (a balanced state of equilibrium) refers to the condition where human emotions like joy and anger remain unexpressed, with the mind resting at the balancing point between Yin and Yang (the complementary polarities). Buddhism calls this the "Middle Path," while Daoism warns that losing this balance leads one astray in the shifting illusions of Yin-Yang, reducing practice to mere techniques and artifice.

Outward virtue is cultivated through practicing the Five Constant Virtues—humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness—along with other good deeds. Confucius termed this "keen virtue," emphasizing action as its foundation. Maintaining a gentle and yielding demeanor without contention, yet being like water that can overcome hardness; preserving qualities of compassion, frugality, and apparent simplicity—these are manifestations of virtue. Losing these leads to indulgence in cleverness and superficiality, aggressive competitiveness, excessive hunting and pleasure-seeking, and greed for wealth, ultimately bringing the troubles of honor and disgrace, gain and loss.

The Dao is actually easy to understand and simple to practice, yet people often prefer shortcuts. The farther they stray, the less they truly comprehend. The Great Dao is inherently straightforward—it lies in achieving all things without deliberate action. In essence, it all returns to a state of desirelessness—maintaining clarity, stillness, and non-action (Wuwei) is the true path to governing the world.

Laozi did not speak of elixirs, immortality, or ascension in broad daylight. He spoke only of cultivating virtue and the Dao, not of techniques and artifice.

(These passages discuss two common misunderstandings of Laozi's thought, clarifying the true value of the "Dao De Jing" through analyzing the relationship between Dao and concrete methods.)

Among those who revere Laozi, there exist two extreme views: One claims that governing tools like sage wisdom, benevolence and righteousness belong to the realm of concrete methods (qi), while Laozi's philosophy is rooted in the fundamental Dao. Therefore, they argue the Five Classics (Book of Songs, Documents, Rites, Changes, Spring and Autumn Annals) and Six Classics (including the lost Classic of Music) should all be subsumed under Laozi's Dao. Yet when criticizing Laozi, the same people insist that governance must rely on benevolence-righteousness, ritual-music, and legal systems—just as farmers need tools and craftsmen require axes. Without such concrete methods, they claim, self-governance would be impossible, calling this an eternal truth.

Both views stubbornly cling to partial understandings, failing to grasp the proper relationship between Dao (fundamental principle) and qi (concrete methods). If Dao required absolutely no practical methods, Laozi should have discussed only "non-being" (wu). Yet in reality, he acknowledged the governance value of concrete affairs—state administration, military strategy, taxation, trade, boats, carts, and tools—proving he never completely denied "being" (you). Since concrete methods aren't rejected, sage wisdom and benevolence-righteousness naturally retain their value. How then can anyone claim Laozi advocated complete emptiness and uselessness?

If we argue that metaphysical Dao could only be explained by Laozi, we forget the "Book of Changes" (Yijing) had already elucidated fundamental principles through Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) generating Yin-Yang, and through establishing writing systems and ritual laws. Since creation, no text predates the "Book of Changes" in expounding the Great Dao. The Dao-qi relationship was fully addressed therein—why wait for Laozi to supplement it? Thus both extremes—either excessively elevating Laozi above the Six Classics or dismissing him as empty idealism—stem from failing to truly understand Laozi's thought.

The profundity of Laozi's philosophy lies in his penetrating comprehension of Dao's mysteries, using the concept of "non-being" (wu) to thoroughly explain metaphysical principles, while simultaneously applying Dao to concrete affairs without being constrained by "being" (you). Where the Six Classics primarily recorded historical events with limited space for philosophical depth, the "Dao De Jing" provides exhaustive explanations. Even principles emphasized in the "Analects" and "Mencius" receive more nuanced elaboration here.

(Note: The "Five and Six Classics" refer to combined Confucian canons; "Dao-qi" is a key philosophical pairing where Dao denotes fundamental laws while qi indicates concrete objects or methods.)

This passage examines two core issues: the relationship between Daoist and Confucian classics, and the philosophical concepts of "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu).

First, it explains why Daoist scriptures have been transmitted alongside the Confucian Six Classics. The author suggests that sages originally expounded the Dao for the purpose of educating humanity, yet certain profound truths transcend ordinary comprehension. Just as Yao and Shun transmitted the "principle of refined unity" (jingyi zhili) – a concentrated cultivation method only accessible to those of exceptional aptitude – and Confucius taught the "unifying Dao" (yiguan zhi dao) that only Zengzi could immediately grasp (while even the brilliant Zigong struggled to fully comprehend), Laozi recorded these extraordinary insights hoping future generations might encounter enlightened minds capable of understanding them. Thus, Daoist explorations into cosmic origins, the creation of all things, and the foundations of Dao and De (Virtue) actually complement Confucian investigations into metaphysical principles. Rather than contradicting each other, the two traditions form a mutually enriching relationship.

Regarding "being" and "non-being": From a formal perspective, the state before heaven and earth formed may be called "non-being," while all concrete phenomena after their formation constitute "being." However, when ordinary people hear Laozi's emphasis on "non-being," they mistakenly assume he denies all material existence. This is a misunderstanding. Laozi's "being" and "non-being" describe the interdependent relationship between Dao (cosmic source) and concrete manifestations (qi), which cannot be simplistically divided by physical form. Take the undifferentiated primordial chaos (hundun) – this formless state of cosmic inception is simultaneously "non-being" yet the root of all "being." Such profound philosophical perspectives require understanding beyond surface appearances.

This passage explores the profound relationship between "Non-Being" (Wu) and "Being" (You). Though "Non-Being" appears mysterious and intangible beyond perception, all things in heaven and earth originate from it. This "Non-Being" actually encompasses all existence. When "Non-Being" manifests as "Being," it gives birth to the myriad things and humanity, with all life containing primordial Qi (the fundamental energy constituting life). Similarly, the Great Dao differentiates into virtues like De (Virtue/Power), benevolence, righteousness, and propriety—all retaining the essence of Dao. Thus, all phenomena ultimately carry this undifferentiated unity of "Non-Being."

When the Yijing (Classic of Changes) first expounded the Great Dao, it combined "Dao" (principle) with "vessel" (concrete form) to prevent people from misunderstanding the relationship between root and manifestation. Like fire burning wood—where flames rise upward while charcoal settles downward—both are expressions of fire; one cannot call only the flames "fire" while denying charcoal's fiery nature. Laozi employed the Yijing's logic to explain Dao but reframed the terminology: replacing "Dao-vessel" with "Being-Non-Being," and "above-below" with "mystery-manifestation" (the subtle and the apparent). This resembles an object's surface and interior—two aspects of one unity.

Whether massive as Mount Tai or mundane as sweeping the floor, all concrete phenomena ("vessels") necessarily embody inherent principles ("Dao"). Laozi emphasizes "Non-Being" precisely because it represents the root that encompasses all, not because it signifies emptiness. Like fire and charcoal—seemingly distinct yet sharing the same origin.

This scripture discusses the dialectical relationship between "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu). Laozi observes that once things take concrete form (being), they become limited—yet this doesn’t mean concrete forms cannot manifest the Dao’s function.

In distinguishing between the Dao and concrete objects (qi), the Dao belongs to "non-being," while objects belong to "being." When the Dao transforms into tangible objects, it acquires form and substance, making the original "true non-being" difficult to perceive directly. Laozi advocates "using non-being to operate being" (yi wu yun you), raising the question: how can we find "non-being" within formed, substantial objects?

In truth, "being" inherently contains "non-being." All things have both solid and empty aspects: the solid aspect is their tangible form, while the empty aspect is the function that transcends yet governs that form. Consider a wheel’s thirty spokes (the solid "being") converging at the hub (the empty space)—it’s precisely the hub’s emptiness that allows the wheel to turn. Thus, the wheel’s utility comes from the solid spokes, but its movement depends on the hollow center.

Laozi uses this principle to illustrate that accumulating resources (being) is necessary, but their effective use (yong) requires maintaining emptiness and stillness (non-being). Just as a wheel needs more than spokes—it relies on the hub’s emptiness to function—Laozi teaches that after attaining possessions, one must practice "diminishing" (sun, reducing attachment) to truly utilize things. This is Laozi’s method of transcending "being" to employ "non-being": even as the Dao manifests in increasingly concrete forms, its foundation remains the wondrous function of emptiness.

This scripture discusses the profound principles of military strategy and penal justice. Laozi (Lao Shi) believed that true military arts should embody the compassion of "mourning soldiers" who sympathize with people's livelihoods. Punishment should only be applied to the incorrigibly stubborn when the populace truly values life and fears death. The application of such penalties is fundamentally aligned with the realm of serene benevolence, far removed from mere violent slaughter.

Authentic Daoist methods never force people into homelessness nor deprive living beings of their right to survive—issues that cannot be resolved through blades or torture devices. Laozi elevates these two meanings above conventional military and penal practices, revealing the foundational principle of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)"—wielding military and penal measures without being bound by them. This represents the Daoist ideal of "non-being (Wu)," not the misunderstood nihilistic "nothingness" some assume.

This wisdom was not only articulated by Laozi but also echoed by Confucius and Mencius. Confucius spoke of adjudicating lawsuits while aspiring to a state of "no litigation," and Mencius declared that the benevolent "have no enemies." Litigation arises from disputes, and enmity emerges from military standoffs—these are the very origins of penal and military systems. But true sages resolve conflicts at their root rather than settling for superficial judgments. Just as a potter must stand outside the wheel to shape it effectively, or a boatman cannot steer while trapped in the cabin, real efficacy comes from transcending the immediate.

When Confucius spoke of ritual and music, he asked, "Is ritual merely about jade and silk? Is music just bells and drums?" This underscores that material objects cannot embody the essence of ritual and music. True reverence does not reside in jade vessels, nor does harmony dwell in musical instruments—these external forms are merely tangible vessels for the Dao. Laozi used the metaphor of cart spokes (輻轂) to illustrate how "being (You)" serves the wondrous function of "non-being (Wu)." Both sages employed concrete examples to elucidate the profound interplay between "being" and "non-being."

This passage explores the essence of ritual and music while elucidating Laozi's concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)."

Regarding ritual and music, the text clarifies: Jade and silk offerings are not ritual in themselves—only when accompanied by reverent intention do they become true ritual. Bells and drums are not music by their mere existence—they require harmonious resonance to manifest as genuine music. This resembles how spokes and hubs form a wheel's structure, yet their true function lies in transportation. Ritual and music require physical vessels for expression, but these vessels alone do not constitute their essence.

Laozi extols the subtlety of "governing through non-action," advocating a return to the simplicity of knot-tying record-keeping (an ancient governance method). Though seemingly advocating ritual reform, the tools he mentions—boats, carts, weapons—remain identical to those used by the legendary Five Emperors and Three Kings. Laozi considers his teachings superior to Confucian classics because his Dao transcends physical forms, using simplicity to rectify extravagance and non-action to stabilize the world.

The text suggests Laozi and Confucianism share common ground in "applying non-being," differing only in expression. Had Laozi directly stated "honoring Dao while humbling vessels" or "employing Dao to command things," misunderstandings might have been avoided. But by distinguishing Dao from vessels through "being and non-being," readers struggle to perceive how "non-being" inherently contains "being," mistakenly assuming Laozi advocated total inaction.

The passage concludes with practical advice: When reading the Laozi, interpret "Dao" as "non-being" and envision "non-being" as "Dao" to appreciate its value and resolve confusion. Laozi's "application of non-being" manifests in three ways—all involving using emptiness and stillness to dissolve substantiality: withdrawing sharp edges, resolving conflicts, harmonizing with worldly customs, and purifying thoughts to attain mystical states.

In the Dao De Jing, Laozi expounds a profound principle: humans should reduce selfish desires and maintain a state of inner emptiness and tranquility. Just as one empties a vessel filled with water, one should clear away the fullness of desires; withdrawing sharp edges rather than displaying them, accomplishing all things without claiming credit—only then can one truly comprehend the realm of "emptiness" (Xu).

Mastering the laws of transformation between emptiness and fullness allows one to navigate the principles of "being" (You) and "non-being" (Wu). The nature of rigidity is straightforward and unyielding, like a solid object that obstructs and resists. In contrast, the nature of softness is to adapt and yield, seemingly empty yet capable of penetrating all things. Thus, what is open and flowing can dissolve blockages, and softness often overcomes rigidity.

Those who understand strength yet abide in softness—who seek gain by first giving, who wish to lead yet willingly follow—do so because they detest the obstructions brought by rigidity and choose to practice the principle of "emptiness" through gentleness. This counterintuitive thinking ultimately achieves the greatest harmony. When one attains the state of emptiness and flow, actions leave no trace, and what appears as non-action (Wuwei) accomplishes all things effortlessly.

Laozi concludes: "Softness is the application of the Dao." Expanding on this, he states: "All things under heaven arise from 'being,' yet 'being' arises from 'non-being.'" Historically, those who applied the philosophy of "valuing non-being" (Gui Wu) met with mixed results. For instance, King Tai of Zhou abandoning Bin and King Xu of Yan refusing to force his people into war both employed soft strategies. Similarly, Emperor Yuan of Han's indecisiveness and Emperor Wen of Han's quiet governance followed similar principles, yet their outcomes differed greatly.

Later critics often fixated on superficial appearances to denounce the idea of "non-action," arguing that knotted ropes could not stop the tyranny of Qin, nor could ceremonial dances lift the siege of Pingcheng—even dismissing Laozi's teachings altogether. Such critics fail to grasp that the issue lies in the appropriateness of application, not the philosophy itself. As Liezi illustrated in the story of the Xiang and Guo families' pursuit of wealth, the same method yields entirely different results in different hands.

Laozi here expounds profound principles of governing a state and cultivating the self. He suggests that failure to comprehend the true meaning of "the soft and weak overcoming the hard and strong" may bring calamity upon oneself. As Chapter 8 states, "The highest virtue is like water"—seemingly soft and weak, yet capable of penetrating the hardest stone.

In governing the people, one should not be excessively lenient; firmness is necessary when circumstances demand it. Though people generally fear death, some still dare to violate laws—this is when decisive enforcement becomes essential. This doesn't mean advocating only softness without strength, but rather applying each appropriately. Those who pursue only quietude and Wuwei (non-action) while neglecting practical affairs are like those who understand only the feminine softness without masculine strength—they will ultimately fail.

Regarding the levels of the Dao, Laozi makes subtle distinctions: from "non-being" to "being," then to the "mysterious" (profound and unfathomable), and finally to the "doubly mysterious" (the mystery of mysteries), which constitutes the gateway to all wonders. "Constant non-being" can only be used to observe wonders, but to master all wonders, one must reach the "doubly mysterious" realm. This state is "naturalness"—the spontaneous operation of all things without external interference, just as the people live in peace without feeling the ruler's presence.

The evolution from Dao to De (Virtue/Power): maintaining the state of "being" without clinging to it—this is called the "image" or "uncarved block." From this emerge heaven and earth and all things, as well as the Five Constants (humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness). Among these constants, there are higher and lower levels. Beyond the highest "superior De" lies an even deeper realm called "mysterious De," akin to concepts like the "mysterious feminine" and "mysterious unity."

This passage discusses the similarities and differences between Confucian and Daoist thought. The main points are:

While Confucian classics (the Six Classics) and the teachings of Confucius and Mencius speak of "benevolent virtue" (仁德), it is actually Laozi's thought that delves more deeply into the essential nature of the Dao (道). For instance, a child's love for parents or people rescuing a baby who has fallen into a well can all be called "benevolence" (仁), yet the highest state of "ninefold unity and perfect rectification" (九合一正) cannot be easily defined using the concept of benevolence. Though Confucius distinguished between different levels of benevolence, he did not clearly establish a hierarchical system. As seen when Zigong questioned whether "extensive giving to aid the multitudes" could fully realize benevolent virtue—this reflects Confucianism's lack of clear grading standards.

This is not meant to elevate Laozi at Confucius's expense, but rather because Laozi's emphasis on "non-being" (无, the empty nature of the Dao) leads to more nuanced explanations of the Dao. Conversely, Confucianism provides more detailed discussions of worldly affairs, while Laozi is comparatively brief in this regard. These differences stem naturally from their distinct focuses, not from any inherent superiority of one system over the other. Just as Laozi's teachings on "non-being" (无) require reference to Confucian teachings on "being" (有), this is a well-established principle.

Regarding cultivation methods, the author emphasizes gradual progression: one must first master fundamentals ("lower learning" 下学) before comprehending higher truths ("upper attainment" 上达); one must first follow established forms ("treading the traces" 践迹) before entering the inner chambers. People often mistakenly believe Laozi disdained discussing concrete methods, but in fact his statement that "learning consists in daily accumulation, while the Dao consists in daily diminishment" (为学日益，为道日损) shows these are complementary processes. Like brewing wine—one must first add yeast ("being") before fermentation transforms it ("non-being")—it is through this process of "generating non-being from being" that one truly comprehends the Great Dao. Both Confucianism and Daoism agree that the way of sages lies in education, and the key to education is precisely this wisdom of transforming "being" into "non-being."

In the art of brewing, when the wine is perfected, the original sorghum (shu) and yeast (nie) transform into sweet liquor—this exemplifies the principle that "being arises from non-being." Yet throughout history, has anyone witnessed clear water spontaneously turning into fine wine without grain or yeast? If, like superficial practitioners, one dismisses sorghum and rice as obstacles and hastily attempts to brew the five ceremonial wines (wuqi) from water alone, it resembles trying to transcend the learning stage before mastering the fundamentals, rushing straight into the phase of reduction. In truth, claims of "transformation without ingredients" lack foundation when the work of accumulation remains incomplete and inner cultivation is insufficient. What basis exists to sustain such reduction? These matters must be explained according to one's level of practice. Some may dismiss this as shallow, but genuine adepts who delve into the Six Classics and the teachings of Confucius and Laozi find these principles mutually illuminating. Even if Laozi were reborn, he would affirm this view.

Discussions on "being" (you) and "non-being" (wu) follow two paths. The Dao abides in the profound and mysterious state of wu, where being emerges from non-being, transforms, and ultimately returns to non-being—revealing their fundamental unity. In cultivation, the process begins with accumulation (you) and culminates in reduction (wu), also demonstrating their oneness. The first perspective views being and non-being through the lens of Yin-Yang dynamics (Yin as wu, Yang as you), where all things return to their root—this is the Dao's perspective. The second manifests in virtues like humaneness (ren), righteousness (yi), and ritual (li); when these virtues reach profound refinement, they reunite with the Dao—this is the human perspective. Both originate from the same source but differ in expression. Thus, Laozi sometimes merges these perspectives, recognizing their essential unity without forced distinction.

Regarding Laozi's advocacy for abandoning sagely wisdom and virtues, some argue this is merely a corrective exaggeration. Critics throughout history have deemed it contrary to common sense, yet examining its essence reveals deeper meaning. The Yijing records how the Yellow Emperor and sage-kings Yao and Shun observed the hexagrams Qian and Kun to establish ceremonial robes, bringing order to the world—proof that sagely wisdom was inherited by ancient sage-rulers.

This passage examines apparent contradictions in the thought of Laozi (Lao Shi) and Zhuangzi (Zhuangzi). The author notes that while Laozi venerates the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi, the ancient sage-king revered in Daoism) as the doctrinal progenitor, he simultaneously rejects the wisdom of ancient sages—an approach akin to discarding the very figure he claims to follow. How can one simultaneously learn from someone's Dao while abandoning their methods?

Zhuangzi expands Laozi's teachings to even more radical extremes, proposing ideas like "destroying measuring tools and breaking steelyards to eliminate disputes among the people"—statements particularly vulnerable to criticism. Yet the author recognizes their underlying rationale, arguing that both masters were expressing profound truths through their distinctive approaches. Both passionately idealize the primordial era of knot-recording (using knotted ropes for record-keeping), considering it the perfect society.

The author counters this view: If people were truly completely honest, why would knot-recording be necessary? This system itself proves that even in antiquity, people required external aids to prevent deception. If such basic mechanisms were needed to establish trust in lawless antiquity, how much more impossible would it be to eliminate disputes by abolishing all institutional tools in an age of human artifice where even laws fail to constrain? Unless Laozi himself were ruler, with disciples like Yin Xi and fictional sages like Gengsang Chu (Zhuangzi's creation) as citizens, such ideas would be unworkable.

Thus even Zhuangzi admits his language is deliberately exaggerated and absurd ("extravagant and boundless"), yet he always returns to the fundamental principles of Dao. Critics often dismiss Laozi's teachings as empty mysticism because they focus on surface-level hyperbole while missing the ultimate return to essential truth.

The passage concludes by observing that Confucius and Mencius—near contemporaries of Laozi and Zhuangzi—never directly refuted them despite their bold pronouncements, recognizing that philosophical differences don't negate deeper commonalities. Just as Yang Zhu's individualism and Mohist universal love differ from Confucian classics without being diametrically opposed.

Mencius deeply analyzed this harmful tendency, believing such thinking could lead humans to degenerate into beasts and aberrant creatures. Yet the teachings of Confucius and Laozi (the two sages referred to as "Kong-Lao") show no trace of such extreme views, likely because both focused on investigating the essence of things rather than harshly judging initial conditions.

The principles of the Yi Jing (Book of Changes) were originally scattered across its sixty-four hexagrams until the Xi Ci (Great Treatise) systematically synthesized them. Examining Laozi's works reveals that his teachings largely conform to the Xi Ci framework, though expressed differently. Upon close analysis, Laozi's thought is rooted in the Yi Jing and further nourished by both sections of the Xi Ci. Liezi and Zhuangzi revered Laozi, even claiming Confucius once sought instruction from him. This assertion may have been an attempt to elevate Laozi's status preemptively, fearing criticism. By the Tang dynasty, Han Yu passionately defended Confucian orthodoxy in his essay "On the Origin of the Way," criticizing scholars for failing to discern this distinction—a clear stance in safeguarding Confucian tradition.

However, according to Dachang (possibly the Song scholar Cheng Dachang), the matter should be viewed differently: If Laozi's teachings align with the great Dao (the Way), then truth is inherently singular, and mutual borrowing is unproblematic. Since inheritance isn't concealed, why distinguish between origins? Thus, whether Confucius studied under Laozi is ultimately inconsequential. Confucius himself said, "The Jin state's Cheng, the Chu state's Taowu, and Lu's Spring and Autumn Annals share the same essential meaning." He also remarked, "When three walk together, one must be my teacher—I select their virtues to emulate." Had Confucius truly learned from Laozi, even upon hearing Liezi and Zhuangzi's claims, he wouldn't have objected.

If Laozi, in turn, absorbed Confucian teachings and used our methods to support our tradition, then his disciples' excessive reverence for their master would hardly harm us. Therefore, the question of discipleship can be set aside, but certain principles must be clarified. Confucius is eternally revered as the progenitor of virtue because he synthesized the wisdom of sages, acting freely yet never transgressing bounds. Today, some use Laozi's words to belittle Confucius, claiming he retained arrogance or failed to fully eliminate distractions—implying even Confucius occasionally overstepped.

(Note: Parenthetical pinyin is omitted after first use per the glossary rule, and Daoist terms like "Dao" are preserved as specified. The translation maintains the original's academic tone while ensuring readability.)

This passage examines the relationship between Daoist and Confucian thought, particularly focusing on how Confucius and his disciple Yan Hui are portrayed in the Zhuangzi and Liezi. The author notes that while these Daoist classics appear to criticize Confucius on the surface, they actually use these contrasts to reveal the profound depths of Daoist cultivation.

The Liezi describes Yan Hui's state of "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang, a Daoist meditative attainment), suggesting that while this may correspond to Confucius's ideal of being "receptive at sixty" (er shun, a Confucian stage of self-cultivation), from the Daoist perspective, it remains merely an initial phase of "benefiting oneself while diminishing [attachments]." In the Zhuangzi, the dialogue between Confucius and Yan Hui indicates that while Yan Hui could achieve "diminishment" (sun, reducing attachments), he had not yet reached the state of "non-being" (wu, complete Wuwei).

The author argues that only Confucius truly attains the highest realm described as "diminishing and further diminishing, until arriving at Wuwei (non-action) and yet nothing is left undone." This reveals the nuanced attitude of Daoist texts toward Confucius: while appearing critical on the surface, they actually use these comparisons to illustrate different stages of cultivation. Just as the Zhuangzi and Liezi frequently critique Confucius, they never deviate from the great Dao (Da Dao).

The latter part of the passage highlights how concepts in the Laozi (Dao De Jing) align with those in the Yijing (Book of Changes), though they employ different terminology to establish their own philosophical system. For example:

• "The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth" (wu ming tian di zhi shi) corresponds to the Yijing's "Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)."
• "The constant non-being and constant being" (chang wu chang you) reflects the relationship between Dao (the Way) and concrete phenomena (qi).
• "The One begets the Two, the Two begets the Three, the Three begets the myriad things" illustrates the generative process of Yin-Yang interaction.
• "Valley Spirit" (gu shen, an epithet for Dao) and "bellows" (tuo yue, symbolizing Dao's dynamic operation) demonstrate the cyclical patterns of growth and decline.
• "Daring not to be at the forefront of the world" (bu gan wei tian xia xian) parallels the Yijing's ideal of "no head among dragons" (qun long wu shou).
• "Embracing clarity and constancy" (xi ming xi chang) represents the natural expression of one who has fully realized the Dao.

This passage provides a three-dimensional analysis of the textual structure and philosophical essence of the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue):

Regarding the relationship between "humaneness" (ren) and "sage wisdom," the author observes that while the Daode Jing appears to reject sage wisdom and humaneness on the surface, Huangdi (the Yellow Emperor, revered as the ancestral teacher in Daoism) remains venerated—indicating sage wisdom isn't truly abandoned. The dynamic interplay of firmness and gentleness inherently embodies humaneness and righteousness, which in fact permeate daily life. Understanding this principle reveals how the core ideas of Confucian classics like the Five Classics, Analects, and Mencius share fundamental similarities with the Daode Jing, differing only in terminology while mutually illuminating the same truths.

Concerning the text's structure, the passage explains that the current division into two volumes (Dao Jing and De Jing) derives from Wang Bi's edition, but the author suggests this arrangement may be a later addition. The first volume discusses statecraft and military strategy, while the second focuses on concepts like Dao (the Way), De (Virtue), wu (non-being), and softness—demonstrating how Dao and De form an inseparable whole. The 81-chapter division might originate from Laozi himself, with logical connections maintained through transitional phrases like "therefore" (gu) and "thus" (shigu). However, the practice of adding chapter titles (as seen in commentaries by Wang Bi and Heshang Gong) likely reflects later editors' work, given the significant variations in early versions.

On interpretation methods, the author emphasizes that although the Daode Jing's ideas seem profoundly elusive, careful rereading reveals its internal coherence: later chapters develop ideas introduced earlier, and cross-chapter resonances create a complete system. The passage criticizes contemporary commentators who isolate individual sentences or treat chapters as disconnected units, arguing this approach violates Laozi's original intent.

Laozi (also revered as Lord Lao, the founding patriarch of Daoism) perceived the profound mysteries of the Dao (the Way) with transcendent wisdom. Though he exhausted language in his explanations, he deliberately retained deeper meanings beyond words. This formed his distinctive "dispersed-concealed" mode of expression.

The term "dispersed" refers to scattering the same principle across different chapters rather than exhausting its explanation in one section. "Concealed" means presenting phenomena without revealing their causes, inviting readers to contemplate and realize the truths themselves. Thus Laozi's words resemble continuous mountain ranges and broken ravines—apparently fragmented yet intrinsically connected. Later commentators who failed to grasp this characteristic often dissected his text mechanically, resulting in fragmented interpretations that lost the integral meaning.

Confucius' saying "When I point out one corner and the student cannot deduce the other three, I do not repeat the lesson" perfectly illustrates this "dispersed-concealed" approach. Therefore, in my commentary, I particularly emphasize guiding readers to infer broader meanings from single points, avoiding piecemeal interpretations.

Most contemporary commentators on the Laozi pursue obscurity in diction to display erudition, rendering the text increasingly abstruse—sometimes to the point of becoming riddles or Chan-style paradoxes incomprehensible to readers. I recall an ancient painter who preferred depicting ghosts and deities over dogs and horses, because the skill in rendering recognizable subjects would be immediately judged, while mystical beings allowed more interpretive freedom. Thus my annotations strive for clarity, using human successes and failures to illuminate the principles. Where my explanations succeed, well and good; where they fall short, I hope practitioners will correct them through their own realization of the Great Dao.

As for the Liezi and Zhuangzi texts, ancient commentators never directly annotated the classics but instead composed separate treatises to expound their meanings. Therefore, these two works stand as independent philosophical elaborations of the five thousand characters in the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue).

The sayings of Laozi (also known as Lao Dan) are concise and rigorous without being diffuse, profound and obscure to the point of being difficult to grasp immediately. Later thinkers like Zhuangzi (one of the two masters) compiled and elaborated on Laozi's teachings, though some interpretations became exaggerated or even absurd. Yet their understanding of the essence of Dao (the Way) and its manifestations was as precise as assigning each vessel to its proper place. If we take Zhuangzi's explanations as the standard to evaluate other commentaries, we find many who enjoy discussing ghosts and spirits yet have never truly understood them.

The preface to Dazhi mentions that the Book of Changes describes heaven as dark and mysterious (xuan), and "spirit" (shen) as the wondrous profundity of all things. "Xuan" is the intrinsic color of heaven, while "shen" refers to the unpredictable transformations of yin and yang. Laozi used the term "subtle and wondrous" (jiaomiao) to describe "xuan," saying "mystery upon mystery"—is this not the very source of all profundity? Su Shi (Su Zizhan) recorded in The Hall of All Wonders how he first observed a man sprinkling water and weeding with movements as swift as wind and rain, his steps perfectly measured, and marveled at such refinement. He then used metaphors like a cicada shedding its shell or a hen brooding eggs to illustrate the true meaning of Dao. Skills like the butcher Ding carving an ox or the craftsman Yun wielding his axe were achieved through long practice, not overnight mastery.

When Confucius visited Laozi in the Zhou court during the reign of Duke Zhao of Lu, Laozi said: "Have you attained the Dao? If the Dao could be presented as tribute, men would have long offered it to their rulers; if it could be taught, they would have passed it to their descendants. The reason this is impossible is that without inner realization, the Dao cannot truly be grasped." Laozi served as the archivist of the Zhou royal library and had a son named Zong, who became a general in Wei. Generations later, his descendant Jie served as Grand Tutor to the Prince of Jiaoxi in the Han dynasty. Laozi was neither without office nor without descendants, yet his profound teachings were neither presented to rulers nor passed down to his kin. Was this not because, as the Zhou dynasty declined, the great Dao was about to withdraw from the world, leaving only written works to transmit it to later ages? Only someone like Yin Xi, the Guardian of the Pass, who had attained inner realization, could comprehend it—others simply could not.

Emperor Wen of Han reigned for twenty-three years, personally embodying the principle of wuwei (non-action) and devoting himself to governing through De (Virtue). He may be said to have grasped the essence of all wonders. But when the immortal Heshang Gong displayed supernatural feats—hovering midair and flying through the void—calling this "xuan," was this really what Laozi meant by "xuan"? The absence of such miraculous accounts in the Records of the Grand Historian and the Book of Han is indeed telling. Liu Yuewu, the abbot of the Xuanguan Temple on Changde Road, once compiled various commentaries on the Daodejing into categorized editions.

This passage is the postscript written by Yuan dynasty Daoist priest Liu Weiyong for his Collected Commentaries on the Authentic Scripture of Dao and De. He recounts the reasons and process behind compiling this anthology of annotations: since ancient times, numerous emperors and great Confucian scholars have commented on the Dao De Jing, yet their interpretations varied widely. Over more than a decade, Liu Weiyong extensively gathered over a hundred renowned commentaries, including the privately held collection of the Ding family from Shitan, ultimately compiling them into a thirty-one volume comprehensive edition.

He particularly emphasizes the profound mysteries within this classic—when followed by rulers, it brings peace to the world; when upheld by officials, it fosters loyalty and filial piety; when recited by common people, it returns them to simplicity and authenticity; and when realized by cultivators, it enables transcendence and sagehood. The concepts of "Dao" (the Way) and "De" (Virtue/Power) transcend time and space, existing before the formation of heaven and earth and persisting even after their dissolution.

In closing, he stresses that Laozi (venerated in Daoism as Lord Lao, the Supreme Venerable Sovereign) originally composed the Dao De Jing to teach humanity to emulate the natural way of heaven. The text contains four passages (in chapters 2, 10, 34, and 51) expressing the idea of "letting all things grow naturally without interference, creating without possessing, acting without self-importance, and achieving without claiming merit." This encapsulates the core Daoist philosophy of wuwei (non-action) governance.

This expresses the inner thoughts of Laozi, the founder of Daoism. Heaven and Earth never shirk their responsibility for creating all things—though they nurture all beings, they claim no ownership. The cosmos brims with vitality, yet can we point to anything Heaven and Earth deliberately possess? They accomplish countless deeds yet never boast of their power—though all phenomena stem from their workings, when have we witnessed Heaven and Earth praising their own abilities? They perfect all yet claim no merit—this is the law of the Dao (the Way).

Laozi proposes the wisdom of "non-contention," advocating that "not displaying objects that stir desire keeps the mind undisturbed," asserting that "tranquil non-action (Wuwei) is the proper way to govern the world." These aren't man-made rules but results of emulating the Dao of Heaven: when I refrain from forceful interference, people naturally transform; when I maintain stillness, people naturally correct themselves; when I avoid stirring trouble, people naturally prosper; when I harbor no selfish desires, people naturally return to simplicity. These are the tangible effects of governing through non-action.

To interpret the Laozi, one cannot proceed without these three fundamentals: emulating the Dao, following nature, and practicing tranquil non-action. Therefore, I specifically use these principles to elucidate Laozi's thought. A certain Liu Yuewu, holding the mystical Daoist title of Xuandian Tidian, once showed me the Laozi annotated by Master Shitan, hoping I would add further commentary. I replied: My teacher Yingzu has already exhausted his efforts on this text. Master Su Dongpo once praised that had such annotations existed during the Warring States period, the harsh legalism of Shang Yang and Han Fei wouldn't have emerged; had it been available in early Han, Buddhism and Daoism wouldn't have been divided into separate schools by Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism. Even Master Cheng Yi admired the brilliance of this commentary—how could I presume to surpass my teacher's insights?

Liu Yuewu countered: "The exploration of truth knows no bounds—why not delve deeper into this classic? Like an ever-flowing spring." Unable to refuse, I reluctantly complied. After days of effort, I completed the annotations, though I can only say the content is reasonably thorough—to claim I've inherited Yingzu's scholarship would be presumptuous. I explain the circumstances here, hoping readers will understand my intent and not fault my audacity. This postscript was written by Jingjing Su Qiweng, a former imperial scholar, on the eve of the Double Ninth Festival in the Wuxu year.

Though the Daode Jing contains merely five thousand characters, over a hundred commentaries exist—yet how many truly grasp the original mind of the Supreme Venerable Sovereign (Laozi's deified title)? During the Zhiyuan Renwu era, amidst social upheaval when many classics perished in war, these five thousand words alone stood firm like the Lu Lingguang Palace—was this not heaven's will? Today, while Daoist priests chant it morning and night, some still mispunctuate the text. I privately sigh deeply and, unafraid of overstepping, venture to correct errors and parse meanings. During this period, I frequently corresponded with Master Shitan for discussion, exchanging letters almost monthly...

This text is the colophon written by the Yuan dynasty scholar Yu Qingzhong for The Grand Compendium of Collected Commentaries on the Dao De Jing, recounting the compilation process and significance of this classic.

It all began in the year Xīn-Mǎo (1291), when I brought the Book of Changes and Laozi to present to my teacher, earning his praise. Later, in the summer of Bǐng-Shēn (1296), Professor Zhao Guandao of the military academy visited and showed me two works by our teacher, Master Yuewu. He also informed me of plans to reprint the Collected Commentaries on the Dao De Jing and invited me to contribute annotations. At first, I was hesitant, but eventually, I accepted the task with humility. By the summer of Jǐ-Hài (1299), when I braved the scorching heat to visit Master Yuewu, I found that less than two-thirds of the woodblock carving had been completed, and Elder Shitan, another contributor to the compilation, had already passed away.

This Collected Commentaries on the Dao De Jing brings together annotations from seventy-eight scholars, encompassing a vast range of perspectives—from Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist interpretations to the words of hermits and even mystical writings obtained through spirit writing (a Daoist practice known as fuji). It is like entering a treasure trove, where every precious doctrine is displayed in abundance. Master Yuewu, Liu Weiyong, divided the five thousand characters of the Dao De Jing into thirty-one volumes for annotation, truly making this a comprehensive masterwork.

The Dao De Jing is profound and vast, and since ancient times, countless commentaries have been written, yet each tends to emphasize certain aspects over others. It is like the sound of eight instruments playing together but struggling to achieve celestial harmony. This collection, however, genuinely achieves inclusivity. Had Yin Xi (the Guardian of the Pass and disciple of Laozi) not insisted that Laozi write down his teachings, this classic would never have been passed down. Today, Liu Weiyong’s effort in compiling this collection may well rival Yin Xi’s contribution in its significance.

Yet we must remember that the Great Supreme Lord Lao (Laozi) takes wuwei (non-action) as his guiding principle. Readers of this book should, amid the thousands of words from seventy-eight commentaries, return to the essence of the Dao De Jing’s five thousand characters—and from those five thousand characters, grasp the true meaning of the Dao, ultimately arriving at the realm of "wordless understanding." It is like the discipline of drilling through stone with a wooden bit or polishing a brick into a mirror—requiring persistent effort. That this classic has been preserved is the will of Heaven; that these diverse teachings have been compiled and passed down is also the will of Heaven. How could human effort ever defy Heaven’s intent?

When Laozi (known as the "Ancient Dragon Immortal") transmitted the Great Dao, he did so without words or speech, as naturally as guiding disciples with hands extended in the empty sky. This passage records the colophon written on the sixteenth day of the eighth lunar month in the Gengzi year by Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang Yucai, the Great Daoist of Primordial Simplicity and Concentrated Spirit, for the second volume of "Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of Dao and De (Daode Jing)."

This describes the profound realm of "mind-to-mind transmission" in Daoist lineage. Using Laozi's classical allusion, Zhang Yucai illustrates how authentic transmission of the Dao transcends language, much like Laozi's dragon-like enlightenment of Confucius. The phrase "hands extended in the great emptiness" is a technical term in Daoist cultivation, symbolizing how patriarchs guide later practitioners through formless Dao-power. The allusion to "the teachable youth" subtly suggests this scripture contains profound teachings reserved for worthy disciples.

The signature specifically includes Zhang's honorific title "Great Daoist of Primordial Simplicity and Concentrated Spirit," highlighting his dual status as both the 38th-generation Zhengyi (Orthodox Unity) Celestial Master officially recognized by the Yuan court and a leading authority in Daoist philosophical studies of his time.