《道德真經廣聖義》Vol. 10

Extensive Meaning of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue, Scroll Nine

Composed by Du Guangting, Master Guangcheng of the Tang

Chapter Five: “Heaven and Earth Are Not Humane”

(The previous chapter discussed the wondrous source and its dynamic function, and governing through Wuwei (non-action). This chapter explains that favoring some creates selfishness, and that partiality makes it difficult to benefit all. It begins with “straw dogs” to show that Heaven and Earth are equally detached from all things; next, it uses the bellows as a metaphor to explain how emptiness can be put to use without being strained; finally, “Too many words lead to exhaustion” urges people to keep to the center and remain balanced.)

Meaning: If one regards “humane benevolence” as benevolence and clings to it, partiality and self-interest remain. If one does not treat benevolence as benevolence, there is no self-interest. Emperors regard the people as Heaven and Earth regard all things: things arise and transform of themselves, and Heaven and Earth take no credit for them; the people live in peace in their proper place, and emperors claim no favor for themselves. Let the wondrous Qi (vital energy) move and stir; let the dark transformation bring forth and nurture life. This is the highest transformation. If one keeps proclaiming benevolence and kindness, the very principle becomes trapped by its own constraints. Why? The benevolence of Heaven and Earth is already immense, yet plants still flourish in winter and wither in summer. The benevolence of emperors is already immense, yet the penal code still includes exile and execution by the axe. This is not as great as “not treating benevolence as benevolence.” Holding to balance and harmony, and preserving purity and stillness, are essential to governing oneself.

Scripture: Heaven and Earth are not humane; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs. The sage is not humane; he treats the people as straw dogs.

Commentary: “Not humane” means not acting out of benevolence or kindness. “Straw dogs” are figures of dogs made from bound straw. Dogs used to guard against danger receive favor; straw dogs merely have the shape of dogs and cannot bark to warn of danger, so they are shown no affection. The point is that Heaven and Earth regard people as people regard straw dogs, making no demands of them and expecting nothing in return. Consider this: perfect benevolence is without favoritism. Who, then, could be loved equally? To love is to fall short of perfection and simply to create partiality. If one does not show affection only to one’s own kin, then all under Heaven become one’s kin; if one does not treat only one’s own children as children, then all under Heaven become one’s children. Thus, perfect benevolence’s lack of favoritism is itself the deepest kinship. How could this be called loving everyone equally?

Exegesis: “Benevolence” is the name for universal love. “Straw” means grass: the phrase refers to dogs made from bound straw and used in sacrifice. In the Zhuangzi, “The Great Ancestral Teacher,” Master Jin tells Yan Hui: before straw dogs are displayed, they are adorned with embroidered cloth; once the ceremony is over, the cook takes them away and burns them. Heaven and Earth, in their perfect benevolence, bring forth the myriad things in the same way that people make straw dogs—using them and then discarding them, without clinging to them.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Main idea of the passage

A straw dog cannot be expected to bark and guard a house. Heaven and Earth, likewise, do not regard “nurturing all things” as an act of kindness or benevolence. This is why they are called “not benevolent.” A sage who governs the realm should regard the people in the same way.

Note

The kindness of “covering it with a worn-out mat” comes from the Book of Rites. Confucius said that a worn-out mat was kept rather than thrown away so it could be used to bury a dog. This concerns the ritual bonds of human affection; it is not the kind of “benevolence” Heaven and Earth show toward all things.

Detailed explanation

In ancient sacrifices, offerings often took the form of symbolic objects modeled on everyday household items, placed among the ritual vessels. Straw dogs were among these objects.

The Zhuangzi, in the “Heavenly Circulation” chapter, tells this story: Confucius was traveling west to the state of Wei. His disciple Yan Hui, also known as Yuan, a worthy man of Lu who was twenty-nine years younger than Confucius, asked Master Jin, “Will our teacher have a smooth journey?” Yan Hui’s hair had turned white by the age of twenty-nine. Confucius said, “Since Yan Hui came to us, the number of my disciples has grown day by day.” Yan Hui ranked first among Confucius’s four categories of virtue and conduct. He died young at thirty-two, and Confucius grieved deeply, lamenting that he had “sprouted but never blossomed” and had “the misfortune of a short life.” Yan Hui was the son of Yan Lu.

Master Jin replied, “Alas! I fear your teacher is going to reach a dead end.” Yan Hui asked why. Master Jin explained: Before a straw dog is placed on the altar, it is kept in a bamboo basket, covered with embroidered cloth, and reverently carried by the officiant and the ritual masters, who have purified themselves. Once the sacrifice is over, passersby trample it and woodcutters take it away for firewood. If someone were to put it back in its basket, cover it with embroidered cloth, and offer it again as a sacred object at the next sacrifice, that would invite ridicule. Your teacher now embraces old straw dogs from the age of the former kings, objects that have already served their purpose in sacrifice, and treats them as treasures as he gathers disciples to teach. That is why he was attacked in Song, driven out of Wei, reduced to hardship in Shang and Zhou, and besieged between Chen and Cai. He, too, is about to be trampled underfoot or used for firewood. Alas!

A real dog can bark and guard a house; a straw dog cannot. Heaven and Earth regard all things, and sages regard the people, as straw dogs: they do not demand “repayment” from them, nor do they make a show of their own kindness. This is why they are called “not benevolent.”

People, however, had a ritual for burying a dog with “a worn-out mat” (Book of Rites, “Tan Gong”): when Confucius’s dog died, he told Zigong to bury it, saying he had heard that a worn-out mat should not be discarded because it could be used to bury a dog. No such kindness was shown to straw dogs. This suggests that sages do not treat “loving all people equally” as an act of benevolence they perform.

Summary

Through the straw dogs used in sacrificial rites, this passage explains that Heaven and Earth, and the sage, govern through Wuwei (non-action) and do not equate kindness with benevolence. Once an object has served its purpose, its form is discarded; all things are not required to fulfill some human notion of usefulness, and the creation of all things is not presented as partial or preferential love.

Burial and “All Under Heaven Belongs to All”

When a ruler’s special horse, called a “road horse,” died, it was covered with a canopy before burial, and even the old covering was not simply thrown away. This was the proper ritual for burying a horse. Confucius was very poor at the time and had no canopy. When he buried a dog, he laid a mat beneath it so its head would not sink straight into the earth; he was concerned that its head might press hard against the ground.

The Liyun says: “When the Great Way prevailed throughout the world, all under Heaven belonged to all.” People cared not only for their own relatives or their own children, but extended kindness to all things. They acted for the common good in everything, without favoritism or private affection.

“Between Heaven and Earth, Is It Not Like a Bellows?”

Between Heaven and Earth, is it not like a bellows—a device with a leather bag that pumps air and a tube that directs it?

A commentary explains: The bellows is a leather bag; the yue is like a flute or pipe. The bag pumps, and the tube sends out air. Both work because they are empty within and free of private intent: as soon as they move, they respond. Heaven and Earth bring forth and transform the myriad things without favoritism for the same reason: they are empty and without self-interest.

“Empty, yet never exhausted; in motion, it gives forth more and more”: Because the device is empty inside, it cannot be “squeezed dry” or bent until it can no longer move. The more it moves, the more wind and air it releases. This is used as a metaphor for the sage: with no favoritism or private affection in the heart, the sage does not become strained or depleted when responding to affairs, but can act without limit. Hence the words “in motion, it gives forth more and more.”

A further commentary says: The bellows is a leather bag that blows air to fan a fire, while the yue is a bamboo tube. Heaven and Earth can nourish all things and, like the straw dogs used up after a ritual, let them go without attachment because the space between Heaven and Earth is empty. They bring forth things without expecting repayment or demanding gratitude. They are also like bellows and flutes: they respond when called upon, yet are themselves “without feeling.” Thus they remain empty and inexhaustible, releasing air or sound as soon as they move. This is a comparison for a ruler: being open-hearted and still, and teaching evenly, the ruler avoids twists and strain in the administration of policy. The people rely on this way in their daily lives without realizing it; hence the phrase “in motion, it gives forth more and more.”

An interpretive explanation says: The leather bag pumps the air, and the bamboo tube directs it. Without the tube, the bag cannot give the air a passage; without the bag, the tube cannot carry the air. Neither can do without the other. By analogy, Heaven and Earth are like the leather bag, and the Five Qi like the tubes and openings: they contain emptiness within, move, and transform the myriad kinds of beings without exhausting their power. The ruler follows the Dao with an open heart, and the ministers embody the ruler’s intent in their administration. Like Heaven and Earth circulating the Five Qi without end, they govern without strain, and the four seas remain at peace. “The more it moves, the more it gives forth” means that its effects are as endless as the sounds of wind and air. “Harmonious transformation, evenly extended” means that the gentle virtue of De (Virtue/Power) reaches everywhere. “Used every day without knowing it” comes from the Appended Statements of the Yijing: the people rely on this Dao every day to live, though they may not be able to explain its principles.

The power of the Dao is unfathomable. It works in the hidden and obscure, without claiming credit for its achievements. So the people benefit from it every day without noticing. This is what the earlier words “bent” and “exhausted” mean: when something is used too much, it can seem as if it has been hollowed out.

Too Many Words Lead to Exhaustion; Better to Keep to the Center

Scripture: Too many words often lead nowhere. Better to remain centered and balanced.

Note: When you say too much, others cannot take it in, and you meet one obstacle after another. Speak too much of universal love, and it becomes difficult to practice everywhere; instead, you invite resentment. Better to hold to balance and harmony, follow things as they are, and let that be enough.

Commentary: “Too many words” often refers to talk of universal love everywhere, or empty slogans about great love. Words without action—and efforts that cannot reach everyone—lead to repeated setbacks and disappointment. Better to let go of fixation, remain empty and still as you respond to things, and keep to balance and harmony. Then things will naturally be sufficient.

In the note, buchou means “not repaid”: there are only empty words, no practical action, and no response.

Meaning: Too much talk brings failure; too much activity brings harm. The more you speak, the more likely you are to reach a point where your words cannot get through or are pushed back. This is called “repeated exhaustion” or “bending.” In governing a country, too much talk means issuing excessive orders and constantly changing them; this too is called “repeated exhaustion.” In self-cultivation, more words make one’s faults more visible. Once spoken, a word cannot be recalled—even more so when one speaks at length. Guarding against people’s words is harder than guarding against a flood, so care is essential.

Better to keep silently to balance and harmony: in governing, avoid burdensome orders; in self-cultivation, avoid inviting disgrace. Cherish your true Qi, speak little, and keep De within. Practice the teaching without words: this is the highest goodness.

Chapter Six: “The Valley Spirit Never Dies” (Chapter’s Aim)

The previous chapter discussed universal love: if it is partial, it cannot be extended to all. This chapter speaks of utmost emptiness, which can respond; through responding, it is never exhausted. It begins by naming the “Valley Spirit,” using the wondrous workings of spirit to reveal the Dao. It then speaks of the “Mysterious Female,” distinguishing the source of the mysterious. It concludes with “things” and “continuous,” showing that empty responsiveness endures without strain.

Meaning: “Spirit” refers to the aspect of Yin-Yang change that is difficult to fathom. Empty, it can respond; touched by things, it connects with them. One interpretation draws on the nourishment of the valley: to nourish the spirit is to accord with deathlessness. Another draws on response: to respond to things is to be like a spirit that is never exhausted. The “Mysterious Female” may refer to breathing in and out the original Qi and refining spirit and Qi, so that body and Qi endure as long as Heaven and Earth. Its “continuous” persistence is the way of long life.

The Valley Spirit Never Dies

Note: “Valley” means empty yet able to respond; “spirit” means subtle and beyond prediction.

“Death” here means coming to rest or ceasing, not the end of life.

“In a valley, an echo answers, though no one knows where the sound comes from; whenever something stirs, there is a response, swift as a spirit’s. This spiritlike answering never ceases.” The valley spirit is used as a metaphor to show that the Dao, though empty and without form, can bring forth and transform all things. Its wondrous workings are beyond naming, so the valley spirit serves to explain them.

This is called the Mysterious Female

Commentary: “Mysterious” means profound and far-reaching; “female” means mother. The valley spirit responds to things with a harmonious, subtle power that changes without limit. Its mystery is inexhaustible, and it can nourish all things. It is therefore called the “valley spirit” and the “Mysterious Female,” names that reveal the Dao’s power to generate, nourish, and transform all things.

Explanation: The valley spirit responds to echoes, just as the Dao responds to all things: whenever something calls forth a response, it answers as though with a spirit’s power. “Spirit” names what cannot be fathomed; “death” here means coming to rest. Since this unfathomable responsiveness never ceases, the text says, “The valley spirit does not die.” “Mysterious” means profound and far-reaching; “female” means mother. The valley spirit’s response is profound and difficult to name, and all things depend on it for nourishment and growth. Hence the text says, “This is called the Mysterious Female.”

Summary of the meaning:

The valley spirit’s nature is to answer like a spirit, and this can be understood in three ways:

1. The valley spirit is empty within and responds when there is a sound ↔ The Dao’s original substance is empty; cultivate it and it can be attained.

2. A spirit has no form and goes wherever it is invoked ↔ The Dao has no image; cultivate it and it will endure.

3. An echo sounds in the valley only when there is a sound ↔ The Dao is within the body; without cultivation, it cannot be realized.

“Does not die” does not mean “immortal” in the sense of life and death. It means “does not cease” or “does not come to rest.” If interpreted as a method of preserving the body, it would confuse the meaning with death in the ordinary sense of life and death.

There are two layers of meaning: first, nourishing the spirit leads to long life and freedom from death; second, the response never ceases, with “coming to rest” serving as a metaphor for what is meant by “death.”

The “Mysterious” corresponds to Heaven and, in the human body, to the nose; the “Female” corresponds to Earth and, in the human body, to the mouth. Original Qi and the spirit of luminous awareness reside in the body. They enter and leave through the nose and mouth, responding to one another through breathing and nourishing the body. Together, these are called the valley spirit.

It is also said that Heaven’s five Qi enter through the nose, and their spirit is the Hun, which connects upward with Heaven. Earth’s five flavors enter through the mouth, and their spirit is the Po, which connects downward with Earth. When people consume Qi, they become kin to Heaven; if they do so over time without interruption, they can attain long life. This is the Yang refining Yin. When people consume flavors, they become kin to Earth; if they do so over time without interruption, they fall ill and die. This is the Yin refining Yang. The Lord Lao taught people to nourish the spirit, preserve the body, abstain from grain, and consume Qi as the Way to escape death. Hence the term “Mysterious Female.”

The gate of the Mysterious Female is called the root of Heaven and Earth. This refers to the place where breath passes through the nose and mouth and spirit and Qi enter and leave: the root through which the Qi of Heaven and Earth connects with the human body.

The Mysterious Female, the source of the Dao, is profound, subtle, and far-reaching. It gives birth to all things, which emerge from it; hence it is called the “Gate.” Although Heaven and Earth have form and appearance, they must rely on the Qi of the Dao as their root.

The Mysterious Female works by responding whenever something calls forth a response. All things are born from it, so it is called the “Gate.” Heaven and Earth are the greatest among things that have form. Without the Mysterious Female’s function, they would split apart and lose their vital substance. They must therefore rely on the Qi of the Dao as their root. That is why it is called “the root of Heaven and Earth.”

People depend on the Qi of the Mysterious Female to attain long life, and even vast Heaven and Earth depend on the Dao’s Qi to nourish them, so that they remain clear and tranquil without change. A later chapter says: “If Heaven cannot remain clear, it may collapse; if Earth cannot remain tranquil, it may burst open.” If Heaven and Earth risk overturning when they lose the Dao, how much more must the human body guard the center and preserve the One?

“Continuous, as if it were present; use it without strain”: the Mysterious Female’s function flows on without end, subtle and hard to perceive. When put to use, it seems both present and absent. Because it works without intention, it does not grow weary.

“Continuous” means subtle and unceasing. The Mysterious Female responds to things without selfishness, its subtle presence seeming to endure. Because it is selfless, its use never becomes exhausting.

Heaven and Earth let Qi follow its natural course, and so they endure. When people breathe through the nose and mouth, their breath should be continuous and subtle, seeming at once present and absent; they should not force it or let it become hurried and tiring. The same principle applies to governing a state: in carrying out policies and commands, leniency and severity should be balanced. If government is too lenient, the people grow lax; if commands are too harsh, they are harmed. Govern the world with clarity and tranquility, and the people will become attached to you and the state’s fortunes will endure. They will continue without end, like the spreading tendrils and fruit of gourds and vines. Hence: “Continuous, as if it were present; use it without strain.”

Heaven and Earth endure because they are selfless. The sage follows this principle and, through selflessness, achieves what is truly their own. The preceding chapter explained that the spirit of the valley responds through emptiness, and that this response is inexhaustible. This chapter explains that Heaven and Earth are selfless, and endure because of their selflessness. It first presents Heaven and Earth as an example, then turns to the sage to clarify the point and encourage people to practice this Dao diligently.

A Broad Commentary on the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

(The words “Heaven is long-lasting and Earth endures” are introduced here to accord with the workings of letting things follow their own nature. A sage who governs the world should also understand how Heaven and Earth work in this way; only then can the people live in peace.)

(A peaceful state: Heaven and Earth endure because they do not act from self-interest. The sage acts through the Dao without selfishness, and all things therefore turn toward him.)

Heaven Is Long-Lasting and Earth Endures

Note: Heaven and Earth are described here as long-lasting to show that only what is without self-interest and self-conscious intention can endure. Heaven and Earth serve as the comparison that completes the point. The key lies with the sage: by putting himself last and keeping himself apart, he fulfills his own interest through selflessness—that is, the world turns to him. This is what the passage means.

Commentary: The chapter opens with a question. Heaven is characterized by Qi and images, so it is called “long-lasting”; Earth is characterized by form and substance, so it is called “enduring.”

Explanation: The Old Master uses the principle of Heaven’s long-lasting nature and Earth’s endurance to instruct rulers who govern the world, so he poses the question himself at the beginning of the chapter. Heaven takes Qi and images as its substance. The Liezi says: “Heaven is an accumulation of Qi; there is no place without Qi. Earth is an accumulation of clods; there is no place without clods.” When Qi gathers, it forms images, which are insubstantial; when clods gather, they form shapes, which are substantial. The Appended Statements of the Book of Changes says: “In Heaven, things take shape as images; on Earth, they take shape as forms. Change is thereby revealed.” Only with images above and forms below can change occur and the myriad things come into being.

Heaven and Earth can endure because they do not live for themselves; that is why they can last.

Note: Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things and have many virtues and functions, yet they endure because they receive their nature from the Dao and do not boast of their achievement in bringing things into being. That is why they last.

Commentary: The preceding sentence poses a question, and this one appears to answer it: Heaven and Earth can endure because they cover and support all things and nurture every kind of being by relying on the foundation of the wondrous Dao, without priding themselves on their work of creation. Another interpretation is that “they do not live for themselves” means Heaven and Earth simply nurture the myriad things without seeking extra benefit for themselves, which is why they endure.

Explanation: To clarify what it means to endure, the Old Master poses a question and then answers it himself. This resembles the literary device of figures such as “Master Nobody,” “Mr. Nowhere,” and “the Host of the Eastern Suburb”: first a principle is established and a question raised, then the same speaker answers it to make the matter clear. The preceding sentence asks, “Heaven is long-lasting and Earth endures”; this sentence provides the answer. Heaven and Earth circulate the original, harmonious Qi and bring forth all beings. Those beings live, while Heaven and Earth do not rely on their own virtue or claim ownership of their achievements. That is why they endure. If they relied on their own virtue and claimed those achievements, they could not endure.

On Merit and De

If one relies on a little De, that De is meager. If one takes pride in one’s achievements, those achievements are slight. By relying on nothing and claiming no credit, De becomes vast and merit becomes great. Then all things return to their source, and Heaven and Earth endure.

A ruler should govern by following the Dao of Heaven and guiding the people through education. Let things follow their own nature, and govern through Wuwei (non-action). The people will live in harmony and peace, and stability will arise naturally. In cultivating oneself, there is no need to exhaust the mind with worry or strain, nor to boast of one’s reputation or chase after desires. When the mind and spirit are at ease and the breath flows smoothly, the realm’s fortune will endure and one’s life will be long—just as Heaven and Earth endure through their selflessness.

“The sage puts himself last, and so comes first; sets himself aside, and so remains.”

Commentary: By putting himself last, he earns the people’s willing support, and so comes first. By setting himself aside, his mind remains free of attachment, and so he remains.

Exposition: The sage follows Heaven and Earth, which shelter and sustain all things equally and without self-interest. He is therefore willing to yield precedence to others. The people trust and support him, and so he comes first. He does not exalt himself or cling to his own importance; he gives himself up to benefit the world. The world turns toward his benevolence, and he has nothing to fear. So he remains.

Meaning: Those who govern do not exalt themselves, claim credit for taking action, or wear out the people to serve their own interests. This is what it means to “put oneself last” and “set oneself aside.” The rulers of ancient times had hearts as broad as Heaven and Earth, and their kindness reached throughout the world, yet they did not even know their own family names. They held no title while alive, yet occupied the ruler’s place; they had no posthumous title when they died, yet their achievements were renowned. They kept no material gains for themselves and built no reputation for their own sake. The world gladly chose them, and all things rejoiced in honoring them. They may truly be said to have come first by putting themselves last, and to have remained by setting themselves aside.

In times of decline and disorder, rulers acted otherwise. They indulged their own desires and made the people serve them, exhausting everyone’s strength for their own benefit. The people were burdened, government fell into disrepair, and the world turned away. This is what it means to lose the way of “setting oneself aside” and “putting oneself last.” How much better to break up an amber pillow, burn a robe adorned with pheasant feathers, cut the expense of building terraces and towers, and send back a horse brought from a thousand miles away. Such acts let De reach people in one’s own age and make one’s name shine in the historical records.

Those who cultivate themselves do not crave honors and rank: this is to set themselves aside. They do not rush to advance: this is to put themselves last. Then they remain, and their De becomes full. When their De is full, people submit willingly. This is what it means to come first and to remain. Those who do the opposite have strayed far from the Dao.

“Is it not because he is without self-interest that he can fulfill his own interests?”

Commentary: Heaven and Earth forget the work they do in bringing forth and nurturing life. They are without self-interest, yet endure. This may be called “fulfilling their own interests.” The sage puts himself last and sets himself aside: he is without self-interest, yet comes first and remains.

Meaning: Precisely because one is without self-interest, what might be called “coming first” and “remaining” is fulfilled. This is not a matter of grasping for private gain; merit and De, and one’s place in the world, come naturally to completion through selflessness.

Plain-Language Interpretation

“By preserving it, they fulfill their own interests.”

(The sage can endure and take the leading place. This may seem self-serving, but in fact it is how the greatest personal benefit is achieved: lasting blessings and honored status.)

Commentary (expanding on the original meaning)

Why can Heaven and Earth endure, and why can the sage take the leading place and endure? Is it not because they have no selfish intent, and in this way achieve the great benefit of endurance and precedence?

Explanation

The sage’s principle is to follow the natural process of transformation without clinging to personal views; not to overindulge in preserving life, and not to damage innate goodness; not to contend with all under Heaven for precedence, and so to stand above the people; not to contend with all under Heaven for honor, and so to enjoy a long-lasting reign.

Thus the people give them their allegiance, distant peoples bow and submit, warfare comes to an end, and the ancestral temples remain at peace. This “private benefit” is truly immense.

Precisely because they do not treat selfishness as something to pursue, they achieve such greatness.

Through self-cultivation, their De (Virtue) becomes abundant, and people place their trust in them. In accord with the Dao and responsive to the spirits, they enjoy long life and longevity. Their “private benefit,” too, is immense.

Likewise, it is precisely because they do not show favoritism or chase desires that they achieve this “great personal benefit.”

The Lingbao Scripture says:

People who live in the world greedily pursue pleasure and desire. They enjoy themselves first and suffer later. Why? Because when pleasure reaches its extreme, it gives way to excess, and excess leads down to the sufferings of the Three Paths.

Those who study the Dao renounce profit and forget fame; they dwell in hardship and refine their practice, eventually attaining the Way of the immortals. They suffer first and rejoice later. Why? Because by accumulating merit and practice, they ascend to the Nine Heavens.

Brief Notes on Terms

• Three Paths: A Buddhist term for realms of suffering, such as the paths of hell beings, hungry ghosts, and animals.
• Dwelling in hardship and refining one’s practice: Living in austere conditions while cultivating oneself.
• Nine Heavens: The celestial realm of the immortals; figuratively, ascending to Heaven after attaining the Way.