《道德真經集義(二)》Vol. 3

The Dao of the scripture can be expressed in words, but the Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal, unchanging Dao of nature. Names can be used to name things, but a name that can be fixed is not an eternal, unchanging name. The Dao cannot be fully defined through praise and blame or through argument.

The earlier phrase “nameless” refers to the time when Heaven and Earth were still in chaos and the myriad things had not yet appeared. “Named” refers to the time after the myriad things had begun to grow and transform. Thus, only by remaining free of desire and observing inwardly can one see the Dao’s subtle essentials. When desire and emotion continually move outward, one can see only the visible edges and traces of things. Both Nonbeing and Being come from the Dao: one is hidden and subtle, the other evident. For this reason, both are called “mysterious,” deep and difficult to fathom. Within mystery lies a still deeper mystery, which reaches through the myriad things; thus it may be called the gateway to the many subtle truths.

The Dao’s mystery is difficult to put into words. This chapter therefore uses “named” to explain the Dao as the mother of all things, “ever desiring” to explain that one can observe only the visible edges of things, and “both come from the Dao” to call them mysterious. It uses “mystery upon mystery” to describe the gateway to the many wonders. “Mother,” “edges,” and “gateway” all extend from the subtle underlying reality to the coarse and visible world, showing how, by apprehending the Dao, one can reach its wondrous workings.

Zhang Chongying says: “The Great Dao has no form, yet it gives birth to Heaven and Earth; the Great Dao has no name, yet it nourishes the myriad things. If people cannot apprehend this natural Dao, but value only the Dao of scriptures, institutions, governance, and education, using it to seek fame and gain, then the ‘Dao’ they speak of is merely the Dao that can be discussed in worldly terms, not the Dao that endures forever. The ‘name’ they speak of is likewise only a name that can be given in worldly terms, not a name so ancient that it cannot be described.”

To apprehend the Dao that cannot be named is to apprehend the nameless; to apprehend the Dao that can be named is to apprehend the named. The nameless Dao is vast and boundless, like Heaven covering and Earth supporting the myriad things. It is a unified whole, yet people do not know the source from which Heaven and Earth cover and support all things. The named Dao appears as the myriad things sprout and good and evil are distinguished; the various things and actions each acquire names. Thus, the nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth, while the named is the source from which the myriad things grow and transform.

Born between Heaven and Earth, we take flesh and blood as our bodies. The mind directs the five senses and moves within this bodily form. If we can grasp the essential point in embodying the Dao, that is what I call “myself.” In a state of “desirelessness and stillness,” we contemplate the mystery that cannot be spoken or named; beyond “desire and activity,” we contemplate the first signs of what can be spoken and named. In this way, I grasp the essentials and understand the first signs of what people seek. The desires of this person and of me, whether for being or nonbeing, arise from the same mind, though they bear different names; both are called “mystery.” I regard desirelessness as precious and call it mystery; people regard desire as precious and also call it mystery. By contemplating the mystery of other people’s desires, then turning back to contemplate the mystery of my own desirelessness, we reach the crucial ground for advancing in the cultivation of the Great Dao. This is “the Gate of the Myriad Wonders.”

Zhang Lingying said: “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of the myriad things.” The Dao is originally nameless. Only when Qi transforms does it acquire a name. Qi emerges from nonbeing, where nothing can be named; Heaven is clear, Earth is still, and the Dao begins from this. When Qi gathers into being, it can be named, and the branches, leaves, and kinds each trace their lineage to their mother. Qi transforms things, and things embody the Dao. Humans, too, are merely one kind of thing. To trace things back to their beginning and hold fast to their mother: this is the way into the Dao.

Bai Yuchan said: The Dao is simply this. What can be spoken is not the constant Dao; what can be described is not it. We force a name upon it and call it “Dao,” but what can be named is not the constant name; to call it “Dao” is already to miss the mark. Nonbeing—this is the Dao; it has been named the beginning of Heaven and Earth. The Dao gives birth to the One: this is the beginning of Heaven and Earth. The One gives birth to Two, Two to Three, and Three to the myriad things; hence being is called the mother of the myriad things. The One, nonbeing, gives birth to the myriad forms of being; the myriad forms of being return to the One, nonbeing.

“Constant nonbeing”: empty the mind and let go of thoughts, seeking to contemplate its wonder; see the Dao in things, and through knowing the Dao, see the mind. “Constant being”: keep to the center and embrace the One, seeking to contemplate its manifestations; the body has birth and death, but the mind has no birth or death. These two—myriad forms of being and the One, nonbeing; the One, nonbeing, is itself also nonbeing, yet within nonbeing there is no absence of being—emerge together but bear different names. The myriad methods return to the One, and the single mind is originally empty; both are called mystery. The Dao does not seek emptiness; emptiness of itself returns to the One. When people can empty their minds, the Dao naturally returns to the One. Mystery upon mystery: truth is hidden within emptiness, and being arises from nonbeing. One enters through awakening to the Gate of the Myriad Wonders, whose use is inexhaustible.

Liao Cuiran said: The Dao is the origin. The two words “can be spoken” are called “Dao,” but this is not the constant Dao.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

The general meaning of the scripture, following the opening chapter of the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Dao and De)

The Dao (the Way) that can be put into words is not the eternal, unchanging, primordial Dao. The name that can be spoken is likewise not an eternal, unchanging, primordial name.

“Nonbeing” (without form or image) is the beginning that preceded the separation of Heaven and Earth. “Being” (with form and image) is the mother from which the myriad things transform and come forth. In the state of “constant nonbeing,” one must stay alert, as if always carrying a walking stick, to perceive its mysteries. In the state of “constant being,” one must hold fast to this single thought to see its limits and first signs. These two arise from the same source but have different names; both may be called “the Mysterious.” Mysterious upon mysterious, it is the gate to every mystery: the myriad principles disperse into many and gather back into one, giving rise to life without end.

Chen Bixu’s Commentary

The Dao is by nature obscure and difficult to speak of. Ordinary minds cannot fully fathom it, and ordinary speech cannot express it completely. Within the human mind, it depends on personal realization; this is what is called Wuwei (non-action) and naturalness. But the moment we set out the word “Dao,” we have already given it an expedient name, placing it among things that can be spoken of. What can be spoken of is subject to change and flux, and can be expressed in words and taught. It belongs to the formulations of scriptures and teachings; like chaff, it cannot be taken for the underlying reality itself. Still, since an explanation is called for, one cannot simply remain silent; one must make do with explaining the word through its meanings.

“Dao” can be understood as “to pass through”: all things, by virtue of it, can pass through and reach everywhere. It can also be understood as “to tread,” as when a person walks along a road; hence the road serves as a metaphor. The Shuowen Jiezi says: “The path one walks is called a dao.” The sages of the past and present put it into practice, and so it is called the Dao. Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—the Five Constant Virtues—are all ways the Dao is put to use. Once it is put to use, it is called “the Dao that can be spoken of.” When this speakable Dao becomes manifest, it is no longer the constant Dao.

The constant Dao is the level that arises naturally, responds as things call for it, and meets things without end. It cannot be passed down in words or sought out through cleverness. One can only unite inwardly with the transformations of creation, keep one’s radiance veiled, and act through Wuwei while leaving nothing undone—quietly reaching the utmost.

Yan Junping, a scholar of the Han dynasty, said: “The Dao that can be spoken of is the manifest appearance of Dao and De (Virtue/Power), not their natural, primordial state. People who cling to words are like painters who do not light a candle, relying instead on daylight. The daylight does not depend on the manifest Dao found among things that can be spoken of; it depends on the constant Dao. What the candle illuminates is the speakable, manifest level.”

By “Dao” (the Way), if it is written on bamboo or silk, carved in metal or stone, and passed on to others, it is the Dao that can be spoken of. But the Dao that can only be transmitted, yet cannot be grasped; that can only be sought, yet cannot be seen; that is its own source and root, already existing before Heaven and Earth were born, and on which spirits, ghosts, divine beings, and emperors depend as they bring forth Heaven and Earth—that is the constant Dao. The deeper meaning of the Five Thousand Words (that is, the Dao De Jing) truly unfolds in these few lines. It may well be called deep beyond deep, mysterious beyond mystery.

“Names that can be named are not constant names”: Dao is the underlying substance; names are its function. Function arises from substance: once something issues from Dao, its name is first established, and its function can then be described. Once that function has been established through naming, it is called “nameable.” But once a nameable name has become fixed, it is no longer a “constant name.” A constant name refers to Dao’s transformations, which respond without limit, and to De (Virtue/Power) spreading without being bound to any one name. Yan Junping says: A nameable name is one associated with achievement and renown, not with original authenticity. Liezi lived for forty years in the garden marsh of Zheng, and no one recognized him; the ruler and high officials regarded him as an ordinary person. Such a person truly guarded the “constant name.” This is what is meant by saying, “Dao is constantly nameless.”

“Nameless, it is the beginning of Heaven and Earth”: “Nameless” speaks of Dao itself. Before the myriad transformations arose, there were none of the names imposed upon things; there was only the beginning of the wondrous origin. Later, as undivided simplicity began to disperse, it became Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), and Taiji gave rise to the Two Principles. Yan Junping says: Nameless and without trace, it shares one substance with spirit. All under Heaven depend on it without knowing why. It transforms within emptiness into the beginning of Heaven and Earth. This is Dao as underlying substance.

“Having a name, it is the mother of the myriad things”: “Having a name” speaks of Heaven and Earth. Heaven gives and Earth transforms, nurturing the myriad things in abundance; like a mother, they shelter and nourish their children. Hence the saying, “Having a name, it is the mother of the myriad things.” The Great Dao is obscure and remote; how could it be confined by either having a name or being nameless? The sage sets limits on its function and establishes teachings in order to explain how source and manifestation are alike and different. The Dao that changes and renews itself day by day returns to namelessness: the nameless gives birth to the myriad things, while the named brings them to completion. Yan Junping says: Through the transformations of what has a name, people honor Dao and De, esteem the divine and luminous, and take Great Harmony as their teacher. Thus Heaven and Earth come to be, and Dao becomes the mother of the myriad things. This is Dao in its function.

“Constantly without desire, one observes its wonders; constantly with desire, one observes its boundaries”: Desire is the mind that arises in pursuit of what it encounters. “Wonder” means the essential principle, the utmost subtlety; “boundary” means an edge or limit. Beside the Great Dao there are small paths that lead through. This saying teaches that only by abiding constantly without desire can one observe its wonders; only by abiding constantly with desire can one observe its boundaries—the limits and first indications of things.

Collected Meanings of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

On “jiao” (徼): “Jiao” can also mean “destination” or “place of return.”

Emptiness and Being, substance and function

The Dao of emptiness and nonbeing is still and unmoving; this is called desirelessness. Its responsive power gives birth to and nurtures the myriad things; this is called having desire.

• With desirelessness, observe the subtle; preserve emptiness and nonbeing—use a desireless mind to contemplate the Dao’s subtle profundity.
• With desire, observe the destination; this is called visualization—use a desiring mind to contemplate where the myriad things return. This means keeping images in mind and reflecting on them.

“Constant” refers to what is truly constant: the Great Dao itself. Both desirelessness and having desire are ways the Dao functions.

The Dao itself has no form or substance. The myriad things arise through their responsiveness to the Dao. What is above form is called the Dao; what is below form is called vessels—concrete things.

The superior and the middling adept

The superior adept understands both what is subtle and what is manifest. Before events arise, they have already seen through them and grasped their full subtlety. This is why the text says, “Constantly without desire, one observes its subtlety.”

The middling adept follows the natural course and acts in response to things. Seeing that each thing displays its own capacities and serves its own purpose, they find myriad differences among them. Truth is difficult to fathom; one can only glimpse its faintest traces.

People with and without desire

A person without desire is constantly attuned to the Dao’s subtlety, preserves the essentials of clarity and stillness, and returns to the utmost in cultivating nature and life. Unseduced by external things, their intentions become empty and calm. They can then contemplate the Dao’s essential subtleties and attain the furthest reaches of subtle understanding.

Yan Junping, a Han dynasty Daoist scholar, said: “The mind is like metal or stone, the body like a withered tree; silent and withdrawn, one’s resolve is like a foal or calf.” This describes a person without desire, able to return to the source of their nature and life.

A person with desire pursues objects and circumstances, abandoning the Dao’s even and open way. They see only its narrowest traces, lose their way and fail to return, and forfeit their original vitality.

Some earlier sages understood the matter this way:

• Those without desire embody the Dao and turn inward in contemplation. Their transformation reaches all beings; they hold nothing in thought or memory and forget both their origin and their traces.
• Those with desire bring function forth from the source and apply it to what can be expressed in the Dao. They establish teachings and respond to things, completing and advancing the affairs of the many. They see where things end and understand their destination.

The first account speaks of cultivating oneself; the second, of transforming the people. In cultivating oneself and governing the state, the principle is complete.

“These two are the same”

“These two are the same”: “these” refers to what came before, while “two” refers to what can be spoken and what can be named, the nameless and the named, and desirelessness and having desire. All these are contained in the still, unmoving, clear source. Before substance and function become manifest, good and evil alike have vanished. Hence the text says they are “the same.”

“Emerging, they have different names”: “emerging” means descending from the source into its manifestations, as what can be spoken gradually divides. Though they arise from one person’s mind, the functions of the Five Constants differ; the wise and the foolish are separated, and changes multiply without end. Life and death, long life and early death, existence and extinction all have different names. Hence the text says, “Emerging, they have different names.”

“The same is called mysterious; mystery upon mystery”: “Mysterious” means profound and subtle, hidden, and heavenly. What is called Heaven here is the natural order. The nameless and the named, desirelessness and having desire, all emerge from one source. Though their names differ, their origin is mysterious. Mystery upon mystery: it is profound and unfathomable.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Those with desires and those without desires alike receive the Qi of Heaven; their nature comes from the natural harmony of the Mean. Turbidity and disgrace, forms and kinds, and the myriad shapes and appearances all arise from “the abyss within the abyss, the spirit within the spirit”—that is, what is called what happens naturally of itself. One who understands what is deep and subtle and penetrates the silent and obscure is a person of profound De. Yan Junping, the Han-dynasty author of Laozi’s Meaning and Direction, said “the mysterious within the mysterious”; this is precisely what he meant.

The Gate of the Many Wonders refers to the realm of the Dao. The Great Dao is vast and open, unconfined, without any fixed path, yet accessible in every direction. In terms of self-cultivation, one joins others outwardly and takes the wondrous as one’s foundation inwardly. In terms of teaching, the perfected ones speak of the wondrous and transcend the assembled sages, while sages embody the wondrous and return to transformation. To guide without a fixed method, remaining clear and still, one and undivided, independent and unchanging—this is called knowing constancy. Since there are grounds for entering and leaving, it is also called a gate. Zhuangzi says: “Life arises from being, death arises from being, and entry arises from being. Yet entry and exit have no visible form”—this is called the Heavenly Gate. The Heavenly Gate is “being and nonbeing”; all things emerge from being and nonbeing. This, too, is the Gate of the Many Wonders.

Xie Tunan, a Daoist priest and alchemical scholar of the Song dynasty, said: From “the Dao that can be spoken” to “the constant name,” what exactly is the “Dao”? The Dao Jing says, “The Dao follows what is natural of itself”—the Dao is simply as it is, and no person can force it to be otherwise. The Dao originally had no name. It is called “Dao” because it extends in every direction and can be followed by all, like a great road. Mencius said, “The Dao is like a great road”; this is what he meant. “Can be spoken” is like saying “can be followed,” and “can be named” is like saying “can be called.” There is no one in the world who does not follow this Dao, yet people use it every day without knowing it. Thus, within what can be spoken and named, there is also an extraordinary mystery. The Doctrine of the Mean says that ordinary men and women may understand some aspects of the Dao, yet at its utmost even sages do not know it all; those of lesser ability may carry out some of it, yet at its utmost even sages cannot do it all. Is this “extraordinary” quality precisely the aspect that cannot be fully known or fully realized?

From “nameless” to “the beginning of Heaven and Earth”: before Heaven and Earth had separated, this Dao already existed, though the name “Dao” had not yet been established. Once the Taiji divided, Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things arose from the Dao, giving it the quality of a “mother”; only then did the name “Dao” become manifest. Though the myriad things differ in countless ways, as their “mother” they are one. Consider it this way: things with form arise from things with form, and what undergoes transformation changes from what undergoes transformation. Follow this chain of causes back through its stages, and it returns to the root indicated by “what happens naturally of itself” and “the Gate of the Many Wonders.”

A Collected Interpretation of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its De

Form and Transformation

What has “form” has already taken shape. Yet the source of form, which gives all things their shape, is not itself fixed in any particular form.

What has undergone “transformation” has already changed. Yet the source of transformation, which drives all change, is not itself consumed or altered by transformation.

The Name Dao, and Before and After

The name “Dao” refers to this: all that we encounter after the beginning is, in truth, the layer that existed before the beginning, when nothing had yet been named or spoken of. From ancient times to the present, forms arise and Qi transforms without end. What drives this process? It is indistinct and elusive, yet images are present within it; still and silent, it exists alone and does not change. It acts through Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing remains undone. It is everywhere, and yet seems to be nowhere. Is this not what is called “nameless”? Is this not what is called “the extraordinary”?

Form and Transformation, the Unformed and the Untransformed

Thus, what takes form does not fix the source of form forever; what transforms does not transform away the source of transformation. Therefore, one must enter through the gate of “constant nonbeing.”

Cultivating the Self: The Dao Within the Body

The Dao is the mother of all things, and human beings are among the myriad things of Heaven and Earth. We are born in accordance with the Dao, and the Dao is within our bodies. Thus, through “desire” and “desirelessness,” one turns back to contemplate the Dao within oneself. Here, Laozi is speaking of the foundation of self-cultivation.

• Miao (the subtle and wondrous) is within: it is the root.
• Jiao (the outward traces; signs and appearances) is without: it is the branch.

The body is sustained by Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit). The scripture says: “In the depths of darkness and obscurity, there is essence. That essence is utterly real; within it lies truth.”

• In desirelessness: when all is still and unmoving, Jing and Shen come together, allowing one to contemplate Miao, the subtlety within.
• In desire: when touched, one responds and connects; Jing and Shen separate, allowing one to contemplate Jiao, the outward signs.

Jing arises from Xuan, the Mysterious; Xuan is Heaven. Heaven gives rise to Water, whose nature is to moisten and flow downward. From Qian, the first of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), to Kan, associated with the kidneys, the essential reality of Xuan runs unbroken throughout. Thus it is said, “They emerge from the same source but have different names.” By entering Miao through Jiao, the layer of Xuan below returns to the layer above, and one can connect with the “gate of the myriad wonders.”

Huan Kai’s Explanation

Huan Kai says: “The gate of Miao is truly above Kunlun; therefore, one should seek it where Qian is the head.”

This can be understood as follows: “One Yin and one Yang—this is the Dao.” It happens naturally. Human beings are born endowed with the Qi of Yin-Yang, and desire and desirelessness are likewise natural. Jing and Shen emerge from one source and are rooted in Heaven; from Miao to Jiao, Heaven and humanity are joined. It is like water: born of Heaven’s First, it has the same source; as it flows from its headwaters to the lower reaches, its beginning is shared, while what comes later differs. Jiao is like the lower reaches, and Miao like the source. “Mysterious upon mysterious” means tracing the current back to its source, until the Heaven within oneself unites with Heaven.

The Yellow Emperor Loses the Mysterious Pearl

In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor returned from a journey west and discovered that he had lost the Mysterious Pearl, a metaphor for the Dao in its original state. He sent the sharp-eyed Li Lou to search for it. Stories of this kind also teach that Miao is not found by seeking outward among the branches; one must turn back and seek the source within.

Note: This chapter connects the Dao De Jing’s first chapter—“named” and “nameless,” Miao and Jiao, and “emerging from the same source but having different names”—with terms from internal alchemy, such as spirit, the kidneys associated with Kan, and the gate of the myriad wonders. It emphasizes cultivating the self by contemplating the Dao within the body: Miao and Jiao are not two separate Daos, but the “source” and “flow” of the same origin.

It is not for “Formless Shadow” (a thing without form or appearance) to seek and imagine that it has obtained the Yellow Emperor’s Dark Pearl. To understand the true meaning of the Yellow Emperor’s Dark Pearl is also to understand what Laozi meant by “the dark and yet darker.”

Lin Fuzhai says: From “The Dao that can be spoken” to “the gate of the utmost,” this chapter stands at the beginning of the whole book, and its central meaning is condensed here. Laozi holds that the Dao cannot, by its nature, be made clear in words. Once it is put into words, it has already become secondary, a lesser truth.

“Constant” means unchanging, unaltered. What can be spoken and named is subject to change; what cannot be spoken or named does not change. Once we have names such as benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom, a benevolent person cannot at the same time be righteous, proper, and wise; nor can a person of propriety at the same time embody benevolence, righteousness, and wisdom. Once we have names such as spring, summer, autumn, and winter, spring cannot be summer or autumn, and summer cannot be winter or autumn. This is why these are not the “constant Dao” or the “constant name.”

“The beginning of Heaven and Earth” is the time before the Supreme Ultimate had divided into distinct forms. In the human mind, it corresponds to a state of stillness, before movement or distinction arises. Before the Supreme Ultimate divided, how could there be names for spring, summer, autumn, and winter? When the mind is still and undisturbed, how could there be names for benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom? Hence the saying, “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth.” “Heaven and Earth” here does not refer only to the world and all things in it; it also serves as a metaphor for the mind.

Once the names Yin and Yang exist, the countless transformations arise from them. Once benevolence and righteousness are named, countless distinctions and possibilities begin to unfold. Hence the saying, “The named is the mother of the myriad things”: “mother” means that all things come into being from it.

The lines “always without desire” and “always with desire” are Laozi’s teaching on the ultimate point, the heart of the matter. In the world, people encounter everything as something that “exists,” but who knows that existence itself comes from nonexistence? To treat “nonexistence” as empty nothingness and boundless void can instead invite calamity. So the one who studies the Dao should pursue understanding fully within “nonexistence,” and thereby see the wonder of how existence arises from it. When in the realm of “existence,” one should pursue understanding fully there as well, and thereby glimpse how it comes from nonexistence. “Opening” refers to the “secluded depths” in the Book of Rites’ phrase “the secluded depths of mountains and rivers”; it means the passageway or source from which things emerge.

The two uses of the word “desire” carry a profound meaning. Here, “desire” means “to seek” or “to make it one’s aim to understand fully.” Although “existence” and “nonexistence” are two sides with different names, in truth they come from the same source. To contemplate constantly through “nonexistence” and through “existence” alike is to perceive what may be called the “dark”: the wondrous workings of creation and transformation. In this way, one can enter the gate of all mysteries.

Has Laozi’s teaching ever been devoted solely to emptiness? If one clings only to “nonbeing,” then one can no longer speak of “the two emerging from the same source.” Does the Daodejing not also say, “Both are called mysterious”? “Mystery within mystery, the gateway to all wonders”: this is precisely what Zhuangzi means when he speaks of what “has a beginning,” what is “prior to there being a beginning to what has a beginning,” and what is “prior to there being anything prior to the beginning of what has a beginning.” These words simply marvel at its profundity; they do not establish a separate doctrine. To say that one layer lies above another would miss Laozi’s original meaning. “All wonders” refers to the wonder by which the Yi Jing says the myriad things are wondrous; “gateway” means that all things emerge from it. Most readers of this chapter begin with Heaven and Earth, not realizing that Laozi is asking people to understand it in their own minds. Only by viewing both sides together can one grasp the meaning of the book as a whole.

Fan Yingyuan says: “‘The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao’—‘Dao’ means the natural principle and the source from which all things arise; ‘can be spoken’ means that it can be put into words; ‘constant’ means enduring. The Dao is originally one, with substance and function. Without attaining its substance, one cannot know its function. First establish the substance, and then the function can operate. In the Daodejing, Laozi first clarifies the substance: ‘constant’ speaks of its substance, while ‘can be spoken’ speaks of its function. Substance and function have a single source; they are not two Daos. Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom can all be spoken of, and each is a function of the Dao. People know only that compassion is the beginning of benevolence, shame and aversion the beginning of righteousness, deference the beginning of propriety, and the ability to distinguish right from wrong the beginning of wisdom. They do not know that these share one substance. This is to split the one Dao into four branches, with endless ills arising downstream. Only by first understanding that its substance is one can we see that in our daily conduct, as it manifests in each situation, everything is fitting and follows the natural principle. In this way it endures without harm. Thus any Dao that can be spoken of is not the enduring, natural Dao. The enduring, natural Dao is present yet formless; it is without form yet has essence. It is so great that nothing lies outside it, and so it encompasses all; it is so small that nothing lies within it, and so it enters and pervades everything. Seek it at the beginning of your own mind, and you will find it. All beings and things arise from it; all sages and worthies embody it and establish themselves through it. Yet although this Dao runs through all things and is passed down in the classics, nothing can intrude upon its wondrous essence.”

Therefore, few people in the world can truly understand the Great Dao. Laozi appeared in the world at a time appointed by circumstance, and only out of necessity expounded its profound meaning—how could he do so without words? Thus he begins: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao.” He means to help people understand that the constant, natural Dao does not lie within words. One should seek it within oneself and realize it in the original state of one’s own mind. He also says, “A name that can be named is not the constant name.” A name is like a person’s given name: whatever can be called by a name belongs to the Dao that can be spoken, not to the constant, natural Dao. For example, things are born without names; people of earlier times simply gave them names to distinguish them. All things have form and can therefore be spoken of and named. Only the constant, natural Dao, mother of all things, is formless, and so cannot be spoken of or named.

“Nameless, it is the beginning of Heaven and Earth.” Before Heaven and Earth were divided, this Dao already existed, undifferentiated and unformed. Who could have named it? “Named, it is the mother of the myriad things.” Once the undifferentiated was divided, Heaven, Earth, people, and things came forth from it. The sage sees that this mother of all things is formless, and so provisionally calls it “Dao,” and provisionally names it “Great.” Though it has no name, the sage gives it one, so that everyone may use this name to seek what is nameless and return to the beginning.

Thus, “Constantly without desire, one observes its subtlety.” “Constantly without” forms a complete phrase; “observe” is read with a falling tone, meaning to look attentively; “subtlety” means what is mysterious and fine. The constant, natural Dao has existed from ancient times, yet it has no form or sound, and its subtlety is difficult to fathom. It is therefore called “constantly without,” with the intent that people may thereby contemplate its subtlety. Human beings are born from this Dao and are the most spiritually perceptive among all things. If one can turn one’s awareness inward and look back into oneself, realizing the one true essence, then even in utter emptiness nothing is lacking, and the subtlety of the Dao can be observed. In this way one comes to know that a single principle encompasses the myriad differences, and that nothing and no circumstance can depart from the natural principle.

“Constantly with desire, one observes its manifestations.” “Constantly with” forms a complete phrase; “observe” is read with a level tone. “Manifestations” means its course, realm, and destination. The Great Dao naturally transforms and gives life to the myriad things: in Heaven, it forms such phenomena as the sun, moon, stars, and Milky Way; on Earth, such forms as mountains, rivers, plants, and trees; and in human beings, such substances as the body, skin, and hair. It is therefore called “constantly with,” with the intent that people may observe its boundaries and destination.

Modern Interpretation

People can contemplate the realm of the Dao (the Way). Human beings stand between Heaven and Earth and are one of the “Three Powers”: Heaven, Earth, and humanity. If they look up and observe, then look down and examine the world within Heaven and Earth, and realize that though the forms of the myriad things differ, their underlying principle is present everywhere, they can contemplate the realm and ultimate limit of the Dao.

They then understand that the myriad differences return to a single principle, and that all things and affairs should follow the natural order.

“The two” are “ever-nonbeing” and “ever-being,” together called “Mystery.” “Mystery” means profound and far-reaching, beyond clear distinction. Without nonbeing, being cannot appear; without being, nonbeing cannot be revealed. Nonbeing and being come from the same source but have different names. If the Dao is understood as nonbeing, all transformations emerge from it. If the Dao is understood as being, it is formless and soundless, constant and unchanging. Thus it is called “ever-nonbeing” and “ever-being.” The word “ever” is added to both nonbeing and being to indicate that their source is one and the same, profound and inexhaustible; hence both are called “Mystery.”

Being and nonbeing alone cannot fully express the Dao. Yet from the subtle aspect, it must be called “ever-nonbeing”; from the manifest aspect, it must be called “ever-being.” Separately, “subtlety” refers to what is minute, while “manifestation” refers to what is evident. Taken together, nonbeing and being arise from one source but bear different names; subtlety and manifestation are originally one Dao. Laozi therefore discusses being and nonbeing together, connects the manifest with the subtle, and speaks of sameness and difference as one.

When people contemplate in this way, subtlety and manifestation become interconnected, and things and self merge. The inner and outer are clear and open, without obstruction or distinction.

“Mystery upon mystery: the gateway to all wonders.” The ever-present, natural Dao cannot be named or described. Once we have provisionally called it “Dao,” we still speak of it as “ever-nonbeing” from the subtle aspect, “ever-being” from the manifest aspect, and “Mystery” because being and nonbeing share an unfathomable source. All these names remain bound by words. “Mystery upon mystery” means deeper and deeper, farther and farther: neither nonbeing nor being, neither different nor the same. It is so without anyone knowing how, and in the end cannot be named or distinguished. Yet all transformations emerge from it, each with its own wonder; thus it is called “the gateway to all wonders.”

Laozi took pity on people in the world who pursued the branches and forgot the roots, gradually losing their true source. He had no choice but to respond to their needs and offer instruction.

People may become so immersed in words that they fail to turn their gaze inward. For this reason, the text again reveals its deeper meaning, urging people to seek within themselves and hoping they will come to understanding on their own and enter the “Gate of the Many Wonders,” thereby returning to their original state. They can then understand this principle and put it into practice, helping all things unfold naturally and ultimately returning together to the “One.”

Human beings are the most perceptive of all creatures. If they sincerely turn inward and reflect, that is the Dao: clear and still, ever-present and undying. How could it be far away? This chapter points directly to the original, natural principle of the mind. It keeps people from being misled by the distinctions and similarities between “being” and “nonbeing,” allowing them to grasp the meaning and let go of the words, rise into the mysterious and reach the subtle. This is the gateway to the Dao and the foundation of De. It is truly the guiding thread of the entire classic and deserves deep reflection.

Xu Junyue says: From “The Dao that can be spoken” through “the Gate”—

The first four lines say that the Dao cannot be expressed in words or upheld by a name. Yet the sages of antiquity who realized the Dao wished to use words to show it to others, and so had to establish names. This was not the Dao in its original state.

The next four lines continue the explanation: “Nonbeing” names the state before Heaven and Earth came into being; “being” names the state of the mother of all things. “Beginning” refers to what preceded Heaven and Earth, and specifically to the Dao as the realm beyond form. The Dao cannot be called “nonbeing,” but since it has no sound, smell, or shape, that term is merely a makeshift name. Once it has been called “the Dao,” can it still be said to be “nameless”?

“The mother of all things” refers to what exists after Heaven and Earth have come into being, and includes the formed things of the material realm. The Dao did not come into existence only then. Rather, once it appeared within formed things, it had a concrete presence and a fixed place, and so was called “being” in contrast to “nonbeing.” If this is what “having a name” refers to, then what is “nameless”? Placing a break at the word “name” makes no sense in terms of the principle being explained.

The following four lines say that those who understand the Dao seek within themselves. They begin with the word “therefore.” “Always without desire” describes the Dao’s principle in its arising and stillness. From this, one observes its “wondrousness”—something subtle and invisible. Yet to speak of observing it implies a clear, lucid awareness: something others do not know, but one knows for oneself. “Always with desire,” by contrast, describes the human mind as it is stirred by contact with things. Once people receive life and take on a body, the desires of the ears, eyes, mouth, nose, and limbs each have their proper place and cannot be absent.

This passage offers a collected interpretation of the opening of the Daode Jing and the idea of substance and function. What follows explains its general meaning in plain language.

On “Jiao” and observing Jiao

Here, “jiao” means to follow a course to its furthest limit, or the edge of a boundary. To follow what the heart aspires to as far as it can go, while remaining able to observe it without becoming caught up in it: this is how the Dao and vessels—that is, concrete things—remain inseparable. This is what distinguishes human beings from the myriad things.

Within Heaven and Earth, one may speak of “nonbeing” or “being”; in human beings, one may speak of having no desires or having desires. It may not be appropriate to divide the two words “nonbeing” and “being” too rigidly. “These two emerge together but have different names”: though their names differ, they share the same source, which is called “mystery.” Mystery means what is deep and far-reaching. The phrase “mystery upon mystery, the gateway to all wonders” seems to say that the Dao is vast, still, and without discernible form, and that the workings of movement and stillness, Yin and Yang, and the transformations of all things arise from it.

This chapter is the most essential one in Laozi’s discussion of the Dao. Yet when sages speak of the Dao, they speak of what has no sound or smell and no form; they do not simply declare that “the Dao is nonbeing.” And if we reason from the later chapter that says “there is a thing formed in chaos,” how could we regard the Dao as nothing but “nonbeing”? Even when we speak of “nonbeing,” the mind still holds an intention; the two do not conflict. Those who truly understand recognize it silently. Only then can they see that the phrase “the Supreme Ultimate arises from the Non-Ultimate” is precisely apt—a truth that no sage appearing a hundred generations from now would find confusing.

Xue Yongzhai says

“The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao”: what is still and unmoving is the constant Dao; what responds to things and communicates through them, and can be spoken of, is what can be spoken. “Before joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have arisen, this is equilibrium” refers to the constant Dao; “once they arise, and all are in due measure, this is harmony” refers to what can be spoken of. The constant Dao is substance; what can be spoken of is function. “From sincerity to understanding” describes moving from substance to function; “from understanding to sincerity” describes returning from function to substance.

Master Wenxuan says

It is difficult to grasp the Laozi without understanding substance and function.

“Names that can be named are not constant names”: the name “nameless” is the constant name; the name “named” is the name that can be spoken. “Nameless, it is the beginning of Heaven and Earth”: the Dao is originally nameless, before Heaven and Earth were divided, and so it is called the “beginning.” “Named, it is the mother of the myriad things”: once the Dao has a name, it gives rise to and transforms the myriad things, and so it is called the “mother.”

“Constantly without desire, observe its wonders”: “nameless” describes the Dao as without desire, while “named” describes human beings as having desire. To observe its wonders without desire is to observe substance in stillness; to observe its limits with desire is to observe function in motion. Without understanding substance and function, one will take either “limits” or “wonders” as only one side of the matter.

“These two emerge together but have different names”: what follows develops further the various views of substance and function, being and nonbeing, and the mysterious gateway. The general point is that they share one source but have different names and appearances. One must bring movement and stillness, being and nonbeing, into relation, rather than cling to a one-sided expression.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

On “the Mysterious”

From the perspective of difference, the heart and liver, or the gallbladder, are as unrelated as the states of Chu and Yue. From the perspective of sameness, all things are originally one. Only when we set aside the distinction between difference and sameness, and forget both the mysterious and the ordinary, can we call it “the Mysterious.” The Mysterious is the root of the Dao and the utmost principle. “The Mysterious upon the Mysterious is the gate of all wonders.” The Mysterious is already hard to know; once we “know” it, we still depend on something. So “the Mysterious upon the Mysterious” lets go of that attachment too. When one reaches the Mysterious without clinging to it, where self and things merge and all is one, the myriad transformations arise from this.

The Words of Xiuxiu Hermitage

“The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name.” Empty, clear, still, and silent, it has neither form nor name, yet in its emptiness it is numinous. This is called truth…

De (Virtue/Power), the function of the Dao, is to act without taking any fixed form. If it does not give rise to a fixed form, its function cannot be put to work. Its wonder lies in Wuwei (non-action) and the subtle workings that arise from it—this is the Dao.

When Laozi says, “Always free of desire, one observes its subtlety,” he speaks of De that benefits oneself and can also benefit all people. “Always” means letting go of every external entanglement, allowing not a single thought to arise, and being free of desire and seeking; in this way, one observes its subtlety. From the subtle, one advances into the mystery and suddenly understands the Great Dao.

Confucians speak of the Great Dao as the “Great Foundation.” To point out its essential meaning, they say that when joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have not yet arisen, this is called the Mean. “Mean” is only a borrowed term for expressing this Dao and should not be understood according to its literal meaning, just as a finger points toward the moon. One must attend to the moment before a thought has begun in order to awaken to it.

Buddhists speak of the Great Dao as the Real Mark, Suchness, the Ground of the Tathagata, and the Patient Endurance of the Unborn. To point out its essential meaning, they say: do not think of good, do not think of evil; turn the light around and illuminate yourself, and suddenly awaken to understanding. The three teachings share one purpose when it comes to seeing the Dao.

“Always having desire, one observes its manifestations” refers to the moment a thought arises, when an impulse is about to stir. Amid the activity and stillness of seeing, hearing, and awareness, one turns inward to observe the numinous transformations and may thereby awaken. “Always free of desire” means entering from no-thought and principle; “always having desire” means entering from thought and events. Thought and no-thought both come from the mind; they differ only in name.

Their common source is called the Mystery: the true mind has no form; look for it and it cannot be seen, listen for it and it cannot be heard. “Mystery upon mystery” means the utmost emptiness and clarity. It cannot be known through intellect or recognized through discernment; it lies beyond thought and has no analogy. From it emerge the marvelous presence of the truly empty and the subtle transformations of Yin-Yang. From it the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are established, and all things are born.

The Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues, laws and punishments, governance, words used to order the world, crafts and skills, and the various means of sustaining life; scriptures for transcending the world, spiritual powers and supernatural abilities, light and longevity, wisdom and eloquence, hidden mysteries and subtle workings, pure worlds and defiled worlds—all arise from this. Hence it is called the “Gate of the Many Wonders.”

Chu Boxiu says: The Dao is, at its root, utterly without form and cannot be named. What can be spoken of as the Dao is the trace by which it governs the world. The Dao is, at its root, utterly still and cannot be named. What can be named is language imposed upon it. People are not born knowing; principle depends on words and teaching. Through traces, one clarifies the mind; through expedient means, one reveals reality, enabling people to advance along the Dao, return to the constant, and ascend by stages to the mysterious and wondrous.

The Dao dwells within things, blended into them without division: this is the Constant Dao. When the Dao disperses into things, distinguishing them and assigning names, this is the Dao that is not constant.

Plain-language Interpretation

The Dao is like the sun shining everywhere: daylight flows forth naturally, without end. But the “Dao” that can be explained in words is like a candle lit at night: its light is made by human hands and must eventually fade. The same principle applies to names. People call what does not change “constant,” without realizing that change itself is also constant. Nothing is only constant and unchanging, and nothing changes without being constant. Taken to its ultimate point, this is called the Great Constant.

The nameless is the constant Dao, the constant name. It involves neither form nor Qi; when emptiness reaches its utmost, spirit arises. This is the beginning of Heaven and Earth. Only once there is a name can the Dao be spoken of and named: signs begin to emerge, principles become complete, Qi appears, and forms take shape. This is the mother of the myriad things. The beginning of Heaven and Earth is the Dao; the mother of the myriad things is Heaven and Earth.

If a person can turn inward to contemplate the beginning of Heaven and Earth within themselves, they can perceive what governs the ceaseless process of life and transformation. When all illusions have vanished, the True Constant remains. At this point, whether one has desire or is without desire, neither is apart from the Dao. Desire refers to the first thought, when a good thought has just begun to stir; from it arise all things and all principles. Being without desire means that one’s true nature is clear and the principles of Heaven fully manifest, with not a speck of dust remaining; even spirits and gods cannot glimpse it. If the Dao’s subtlety is not seen here, where else could it be seen?

The boundary is like the moment when the mind takes shape and is about to encounter external things. One should turn the light of awareness inward and restrain things at their source: do not cling even to good thoughts, much less to bad ones. Without desire, one is still and unmoving; with desire, one responds to things and connects with them. Substance and function share the same source. The key lies in movement and stillness: movement and stillness, abundance and scarcity, the ordinary and the sage all divide from this point. Subtlety is the root of the Dao; the boundary is where things begin and the basis on which they come into being and change. It is inseparable from everyday life. Subtlety is not a vast void of absolute nothingness: within emptiness, Qi transforms, and something not yet formed remains. The boundary is not a solid fullness of existence: it is movement arising from stillness, discernible at the slightest stir.

Examine this principle closely: as when a kite suddenly appears in the empty sky, or a fish suddenly leaps in still water, one comes to a sudden, profound understanding. Beyond the flight and leap, in the realm of seeing and hearing, what else is there? Though sound and trace have vanished, that which sees and hears has not vanished. This is the secret transmission of the mind seal by the Primordial Master of the Precelestial Taiji.

If a person can abide in a constant mind and begin by contemplating in this way, worldly thoughts will find no opening to enter. Leaving the boundary behind and returning wholly to subtlety, “desire” becomes as unreal as fur on a tortoise or horns on a hare. The boundary and subtlety both emerge from the Dao, though their principles differ in refinement, like a spring flowing down from a mountain: it nourishes and irrigates, benefiting things in different ways, while its clear, cool, limpid source remains the root.

(First section: On “the Mysterious” and “the Gate of the Many Wonders”)

One’s “nature” is like the wind and the sun: though it may be depleted, its source is inexhaustible. By continually contemplating the two paths of “being” and “nonbeing,” one can ultimately return to the source.

“The Mysterious” is the Dao’s highest principle: subtle and refined, seeming to exist and yet not to exist. If one clings to this kind of “seeing,” one is still bound by the “Dharma.” Even the “Dharma” must be let go before one can enter into a deeper mystery. All wondrous principles flow from this, which is why it is called the “Gate.” This gate has no bolt or lock; only those who have awakened to the Dao can enter. Though there are many wonders, they all emerge from the Mysterious. Thus the many wonders are one wonder, and the one wonder is the many wonders. Only one who can bring forth this mystery can know it.

(Second section: “The Wondrous Transmission” explains “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant name”)

The Wondrous Transmission says: “‘The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant name.’ The Dao cannot be seen or heard. It is empty, without form, and spontaneous, existing before the Five Primordials. Before the undivided chaos opened, there was only a vast, boundless expanse, the great Brahma-void, with no light whose extent could be measured.

At first it was called Taiyi, meaning that Qi had not yet arisen.

Gradually came Taichu, when Qi first began to stir.

Next came Taishi, when Qi existed but had not yet formed substance.

Then came Taisu, when substance existed but had not yet taken shape.

Finally came Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), when both form and substance were complete. At the extreme, they divided: light, clear Qi rose to become Heaven; heavy, turbid Qi settled below to become Earth; balanced Qi became humanity; and the remaining dregs dispersed to become the myriad things. Its spiritual powers and wondrous workings are vast and without limit, impossible to describe fully. The Most High taught the Dao, which originally had no words, and gave it the forced name “Dao.”

Though the Dao has feeling and nature, it has no thought and no action. It can be transmitted but not received; it can be attained but not seen. It is its own source and root, already existing before Heaven and Earth were born. It is spirit and sovereign; it gives birth to Heaven and Earth. It is above Taiji yet does not consider itself high, and beneath the six directions yet does not consider itself deep.

Its workings are vast: whoever attains it becomes great, and whoever attains it becomes small. Near at hand, it circulates through the finest hairs, with more than enough; far away, it fills the Great Void, yet still falls short. It is the sound within sound, the echo within echo, the form within form, the shadow within shadow. What is square attains it and becomes still; what is round attains it and moves. There is nowhere it does not reach, and nothing it cannot accommodate. That is why it is said to be “speakable.”

“Non” means without; “constant” means fixed. The Dao’s workings respond and transform in countless ways. “Not constant” means that it is not an enduring name and cannot be grasped as a fixed expression.

The fundamental reality of the Dao is never fixed in one place. In Heaven, it manifests as Heaven; on Earth, as Earth; in the four seasons, as the four seasons; and among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), as the Five Phases. The vastness of space cannot be fully described by calling it “nonbeing.” The myriad things, diverse and intermingled, cannot be confined within a single “square”: they may seem to have a square shape without being bound by it, or a round shape without being bound by that. When things come, we cannot see where they come from; when they go, we cannot catch up with them to see where they are going. The Qian trigram takes from it its height, and the Kun trigram its depth; clouds move by means of it, and rain falls by means of it. It undergoes a thousand changes and ten thousand transformations, and there is no place or transformation in which it is absent.

Laojun (Laozi) said that the Dao does not belong exclusively to him; it is present in all things. Long ago, Dongguo Zi asked Zhuangzi, “Where is the Dao?” Zhuangzi replied, “There is nowhere it is not.” Dongguo Zi said, “Give me an example, so I can understand.” Zhuangzi said, “It is in ants.” Dongguo Zi asked, “Why so lowly?” Zhuangzi replied, “It is in weeds.” Dongguo Zi asked, “Why lower still?” Zhuangzi said, “It is in roof tiles.” Dongguo Zi asked, “Why go too far?” Zhuangzi replied, “It is in excrement and urine.” This shows that the Dao’s working is everywhere. It has no permanent dwelling place, which is why it is called the “constant Dao.”

“That which can be named is the Dao.” Someone might ask: if the Dao has no form, how can it have a name? Yet when it comes to teaching and speaking, a name is indeed needed. In my view, how could it be without a name? The Supreme One expounds scriptures to reveal the Dao; authors write and speak to enlighten those who come after them. Without a name, how could their meaning be made clear? If a name is not correct, speech cannot be coherent, so a name is necessary. The Scripture on Clarity and Stillness says: “The Great Dao has no form, yet gives birth to and nurtures Heaven and Earth. The Great Dao has no name, yet sustains and nourishes the myriad things. Not knowing its name, we force a name upon it and call it Dao.” The commonplace saying “that which can be named is the Dao” probably comes from this.

That which can be named is also the Dao: this refers to the Dao’s workings. It covers Heaven and supports Earth; its height cannot be measured, nor can its depth. Rising upward, it fills Heaven and Earth; spreading outward, it pervades the four seas. When gathered, it is no larger than a handful; when unfolded, it encompasses the six directions. It can be contracted and expanded, hidden and made clear, soft and yet strong, weak and yet great. In its vastness, nothing lies outside it; in its minuteness, it reaches into the finest hairs. It endures and grows vast, takes the shape of a circle or a square, and enables all things to find their proper place. It can be drawn upon without being exhausted, and used without being depleted. These are the workings of the Great Dao. As a principle, the Dao is present everywhere, and there is no place where it cannot be invoked by calling it “Dao.” Is that not acceptable? Hence the saying, “That which can be named is also the Dao.”

“That which cannot be named as a constant name is also the Dao.” The Dao is present between Heaven and Earth and resides in all affairs and things; there is not one thing in which it is absent.

Plain-Language Interpretation

When named according to the four seasons, they are called spring, summer, autumn, and winter; according to the four elements, fire, wind, earth, and water; according to the Five Phases, metal, wood, water, fire, and earth; according to the five constant virtues, benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness; in astronomy, the sun, moon, stars, and constellations; in geography, mountains, streams, rivers, and seas; in the course of a day, daylight, night, darkness, and brightness; in human beings, seeing, hearing, speaking, and acting; in the myriad things, flourishing and withering, waning and waxing; and in the One Qi, movement and stillness, firmness and softness. The names are too numerous to count. Most are expressions of the unfolding and transformative workings of the Dao. Since the Dao has no fixed name in its original state, the text says, “It is not the enduring name.”

The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth. “Nameless” refers to the Dao’s original substance. As substance, the Dao existed before the Great Void and lay hidden within the empty expanse: without light, image, color, name, form, thread, tone, or sound. The dark and yellow had not yet divided, and the Great Uncarved Simplicity—the primordial undifferentiated chaos—had not yet formed into a whole. There was only silence and vastness, a state that seemed present and yet indistinct. Thus the scripture says that looking, one cannot see it, and listening, one cannot hear it. If it cannot be grasped by sight or hearing, is that not what we call “nothing”?

The Venerable Lord (Laozi) says that the Dao’s image is formless: it is elusive and indistinct, seeming to exist yet seeming not to exist. It is like a tree before it sprouts: its branches, leaves, and roots cannot be seen. All this speaks of the Dao as “nothing.” “Beginning” also refers to the Dao. In the time of the Great Change and the Primordial Beginning, Heaven and Earth had not yet taken root, the sun and moon did not yet shine, and all was dark and dim, without ancestor or origin. Three colors mingled in chaos, appearing and disappearing. Only when the cycles of cosmic change reached their utmost did the Three Qi open into light: the Qi cleared, rose, and gathered as Yang to form Heaven; it congealed and accumulated to form Earth. The Nine Qi took their proper places, and the sun, moon, and stars, Yin-Yang, the Five Phases, human beings, and all things received life and form. What ordinary people call “the beginning of Heaven and Earth” refers, in this account, to the stage of the Dao that preceded them.

The named is the mother of the myriad things. “Named” refers to the Dao’s function. In its function, the Dao brings “being” forth from “nonbeing.” “Nonbeing” means nothingness; from nothingness, “being” necessarily arises, and this “being” is the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Only after the Taiji divides do Heaven and Earth come into being. Only after Heaven and Earth exist can the myriad things arise; only after the myriad things arise can there be men and women; only then can there be husbands and wives, and only then rulers and ministers, and those above and below. All things begin in nothingness and change from nothingness into being. What could this be, if not the Dao? That is why “being” is called the Dao’s function.

Note: In Buddhist usage, the “four elements” usually refer to earth, water, fire, and wind. Here, they are listed as fire, wind, earth, and water, in keeping with a common formulation in the Daoist Canon. “Three Qi” and “Nine Qi” are terms from cosmological accounts of generation, referring to stages in which clear, turbid, and other forms of Qi differentiate. They are not unpacked term by term here to avoid unnecessary length. For comparison with a specific Daoist Canon commentary, provide the volume and section.

This passage explains the principle of the Dao (the Way) as the mother of all things. Why is the Dao called the mother of all beings? The Yijing (Book of Changes) describes how all things filling heaven and earth resemble plants growing roots that sprout stems, lush leaves, tender buds, and bear fruit; or like birds spreading wings to fly, beasts running on four legs, fish leaping with their scales, birds pecking with their beaks, and animals chewing with their teeth. The myriad forms of existence in this world all originate from the Dao.

As the saying goes, our parents give us life. Since the Dao is called the mother of all things, what else could it be? The Neiguan Jing (Scripture of Inner Observation) states: "Being (you) takes non-being (wu) as its mother, non-being takes emptiness (xu) as its mother, and emptiness takes the Dao as its mother." Thus, the Dao is truly the mother of all things.

"Changwu" (eternal nothingness) is used to observe the wondrous essence of the Dao. The original substance of the Dao is fundamentally an eternal state of nothingness. In the time of primordial chaos, before the separation of heaven and earth, in the great void of the earliest beginnings: Above, there was no high heaven, no sun, moon, or stars, no clouds, mist, or dew, no thunder, lightning, wind, rain, frost, or snow—only a vast, dark chaos. Below, there was no solid earth, no mountains, rivers, seas, or valleys, no plants, birds, beasts, humans, or nations—only a silent, murky obscurity. This is the original substance of the Dao, hence called "changwu."

"Miao" (wondrous) refers to the essence of the Dao, the "changwu" state mentioned earlier. "Changwu" describes its motionless stillness. Yet this still essence is profoundly unfathomable, its hidden mysteries difficult to reveal, which is why it is called "changwu." This principle is inherent in every person. The moment deluded thoughts vanish, during deep meditation, when the mind becomes as clear and unobstructed as the primordial Taixu (Great Void), one realizes, "I am the Dao, and the Dao is me"—is this not wondrous?

"Guan" (observation) means to investigate the mysteries contained within. "Changyou" (eternal being) is used to observe the Dao's functional manifestations. "Changyou" refers to the Dao's dynamic operations: When chaos first parted, heaven and earth took form; the sun, moon, and stars arranged themselves in the sky; the Five Planets moved along their orbits; yin and yang rose and fell; cold and heat alternated; rain and dew nourished; wind and thunder issued commands; the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) generated and restrained one another; the four seasons cycled endlessly. Further, the Nine Regions and Eight Wastes, the Five Lakes and Four Seas, the feudal states and common villages, the plants, trees, mountains, and rivers—all things forever filling heaven and earth exist because the Dao's Qi (vital energy) flows ceaselessly, sustaining their eternal being. Thus, "changyou" is the Dao's functional manifestation. "Jiao" refers to this very operation of the Dao.

This is what was meant earlier by “constant being.” But what is “constant being”? It is like the enduring heavens and earth, the turning of the four seasons, and the growth of all things: nothing ever ceases or comes out of season. That is why it is called “constant being.”

The human body is called a small cosmos: the head is round like the heavens, the feet are square like the earth, the eyes resemble the sun and moon, and the hair resembles the stars. Within the body are the four seasons, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and the rising and descending of Yin-Yang; it contains forests and plants, and all things. If a person can contemplate the Dao’s substance and function, and put them into practice, then this body is the Dao, and the Dao is this body.

When “these two” reach the mysterious realm, “these two” refers to the words “manifest” and “subtle.” Both flow from the same word, “Dao,” so distinct names are established to show its substance and function. Hence the saying, “Together they are called the mysterious.” Although the Dao, in its substance, is obscure and formless, where there is substance there must also be function: the Non-ultimate is its substance, and the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) is its function. Substance governs stillness; function governs movement. Zhou Dunyi said: “The Non-ultimate and yet the Supreme Ultimate. The Supreme Ultimate moves and gives rise to Yang; when movement reaches its limit, it becomes still. Stillness gives rise to Yin; when stillness reaches its limit, movement begins again. One movement and one stillness are each the root of the other.” Taken together, this is the Dao. Hence the saying, “Together they are called the mysterious.”

“More mysterious still, it is the gateway to all wonders” is the exalted praise of the Dao by the Most High. “Mysterious” refers to the Dao’s subtle and unfathomable existence: the mind struggles to know it, and the mouth falls silent before it. The waters of the Western River would not suffice to write down all its goodness; all the voices in the cosmos could not fully describe its mystery. It is difficult to discuss or conceive, supremely mysterious and wondrous—so it is summed up in the phrase “more mysterious still.”

“All wonders” refers to the myriad things; “gateway” refers to principle, and principle is the Dao. Between heaven and earth, each thing has its own principle, and each principle its own gateway; a gateway is a door through which one enters and leaves. Confucius said: “Who can go out without passing through a door? Why, then, do people not follow this Dao?” The world speaks of eighty-four thousand gateways, each with its own principle. This one gateway alone encompasses all principles and contains everything; therefore it is called “the gateway to all wonders.”

A Reading of “The Constant Dao” in Daily Life

The so-called “constant Dao” is not some separate, mysterious method. Rather, the Dao is present everywhere in the ordinary routines of life: eating and drinking, getting dressed, the bedding we sleep on, and the medicines used to treat illness can all, in principle, be understood as expressions of the Dao.

“Names” and the Dao

“Name” refers to the time when Heaven and Earth had not yet acquired fixed designations, and nothing could simply be called by a name. The ancients said that as soon as you call something “a thing,” you have missed the point. What can be named is not the nameless Dao itself.

“Constant names,” by contrast, are the terms we use in daily life: Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, Yin-Yang, the myriad things, people, and spirits all belong to the realm of constant names.

The Nameless and the Named: Wuji and Taiji

“The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth” refers to Wuji, the Limitless. When Wuji moves, Yang arises; when it is still, Yin arises. That is why it is called the beginning.

In expressions such as “the named is the mother of the myriad things,” “the named” refers to Taiji, the Supreme Ultimate: its forms are complete and visible. Taiji divides into two; two gives rise to three; and three gives rise to the myriad things.

When Heaven is free of desire, the Qi of the four seasons is clear and bright. When people are free of desire, they remain tranquil and still. This is the subtlety of turning one’s gaze inward. If people still have desires, then amid their responses to situations and dealings with others, they should remember to turn the light back upon themselves. These two forms of contemplation—when free of desire and when desire remains—come from the same source but have different names. Their subtlety is present in the stillness and activity of everyday life.

Zhuangzi on the Dao (excerpt)

Zhuangzi says: The Dao has feeling and nature, yet is Wuwei and formless. It can be conveyed but not received; it can be attained but not seen. It is its own source and root, and existed before Heaven and Earth. It gave spirit to ghosts and spirits and to the supreme rulers; it gave birth to Heaven and Earth. It was before Taiji, yet is not high; it lies beneath the Six Directions, yet is not deep. It came before Heaven and Earth, yet is not old; it has lasted longer than high antiquity, yet is not aged.

Though Heaven and Earth are vast, their transformations are uniform; though the myriad things are many, their ordering rests on the One. Though people are numerous, the ruler is their principal. The ruler’s abundant De accords with Heaven, and so is called “mysterious.” The ancient rulers governed the world through Wuwei: that was simply the De of Heaven.

Viewed through the Dao, the ruler of the world is rightly placed; viewed through the Dao’s divisions, the duties of ruler and minister become clear; viewed through the Dao’s capacities, the world is well governed; viewed broadly through the Dao, the responses of the myriad things are all accounted for.

Summary

What connects with Heaven and Earth is called De; what moves through the myriad things is called the Dao.