《道德真經廣聖義》Vol. 15

Guangshengyi Commentary on the True Scripture of the Way and Its Virtue, Volume Fourteen, Chapter Fourteen

By Du Guangting, Master Guangcheng of the Tang

The Chapter “Look for It, Yet You Do Not See It”

Commentary: The previous chapter discussed cherishing the body and regarding it as a source of trouble, teaching people to let go of both. This chapter explains that the wondrous origin has no form, and therefore it can be reached everywhere through its activity. The first three lines say that it cannot be sought among forms and colors. The next six show that pursuing it to the end leads to nothing. Five more lines reveal that its wondrous workings are hard to fathom. The final four lines draw on the past to illuminate the present.

Meaning: The earlier chapter presented forgetting the body and forgetting its troubles as the foundation of cultivation and realization. This chapter explains the subtlety of the Supreme Dao by showing that it is neither color nor sound. Since it cannot be found through sight or hearing, it is described as blended into unity. Though it is hard to discern whether it is bright or dim, it cannot be seen whether one follows or meets it. Yet by grasping it, one can govern the body and the state; it is the source of transformation.

Look for it, yet you do not see it: it is called Yi (the even and plain).

Note: This refers to the Dao. Yi means even and plain. The Dao is not a visible form, so it cannot be seen. Yet within the colorless, it can manifest all manner of colors; therefore it is called Yi.

Listen for it, yet you do not hear it: it is called Xi (the faint).

Note: Xi means the faintness of sound. The Dao is not a sound, so it cannot be heard. Yet within silence, it can harmonize all sounds; therefore it is called Xi.

Reach for it, yet you cannot grasp it: it is called Wei (the subtle).

Note: “Reach for” means to hold or grasp. Wei means subtle and wondrous. The Dao has no body, so it cannot be held. Yet without form, it can bring all manner of forms into being; therefore it is called Wei.

Commentary: This passage explains the Dao. Those who look with their eyes seek the Dao in visible forms; those who listen with their ears seek it in sounds; those who reach out with their hands seek it in physical shapes. But the Dao is not sound, color, or form, so it cannot ultimately be found in these ways. Yet although it cannot be found, it cannot simply be called “nothing”: within the colorless, it responds by appearing as all colors; within silence, it harmonizes all sounds; without form, it gives shape to all forms. This is “color within the colorless, sound within the soundless, form within the formless.” Hence the names Yi, Xi, and Wei. Yi is what is meant by the clear Dao, not the name of the Dao’s substance. Yi means even and plain, Xi means the faintness of sound, and “reaching for” means holding or grasping.

Meaning: What the eyes see is only what is even and plain; they cannot see the Dao, for the Dao has no color. What the ears hear is only a faint quiet; they cannot hear the Dao, for the Dao has no sound. What the hands reach for is only something subtle and wondrous; they cannot grasp the Dao, for the Dao has no form. Together, these three expressions convey the meaning of Laozi’s words: “Look for it, yet you do not see it; listen for it, yet you do not hear it; reach for it, yet you cannot grasp it.” Yi, Xi, and Wei each describe one aspect of what cannot be seized; taken together, they point to the tranquil, wondrous origin, which is accessible through its workings.

General Meaning of the Scripture

The Dao (the Way) makes no sound; no matter how you reach out to grasp it, you cannot hold it. It is extraordinarily subtle and has no fixed shape. The Dao has no form: when the spirit looks for it, it sees color without color; when Qi (vital energy) listens for it, it hears sound without sound; when wisdom illuminates it, it recognizes form without form. All kinds of colors, sounds, and forms are present, yet without the Dao they cannot arise or come to completion. The Dao alone can respond to every color and every sound and bring every form to completion, so it is reluctantly called the “unseen, inaudible, and subtle.” The Dao cannot be put into words; as soon as it is spoken of, one departs from it. Thus, any description of the Dao is only a makeshift label, not the Dao itself. The Zhuangzi says: look not with the eyes, but with the spirit; listen not with the mind, but with Qi, and you can accord with the Dao through subtlety.

“These three cannot be pursued to their ultimate end, and so they merge into one”: these three—the unseen, the inaudible, and the subtle—cannot be questioned to their conclusion, and so they are merged into one.

Key Points from the Commentary

Note: The three are used to inquire into the Dao. The Dao is not sound, color, form, or method, and cannot be reached by questioning. One can only apprehend it through the unseen, the inaudible, and the subtle. Yet the Dao is not these qualities themselves, so they are ultimately merged into one.

Commentary: The three refer to the inaudible, the unseen, and the subtle. “Pursue” means to attain; “question” means to challenge or investigate; “merge” means to become one. The wondrous source is subtle and singular, and difficult to describe. Color, sound, form, and method cannot be used to question it; one can only speak of the provisional names “inaudible,” “unseen,” and “subtle.” To explain the Dao’s workings, one must recognize that the Dao is not color, sound, or form, and that the inaudible, the unseen, and the subtle must in turn be merged into one.

Interpretation: The inaudible, the unseen, and the subtle are borrowed names used to point to the Dao, though in truth none of them exists as a separate thing. Their condensation and transformation give rise to the Three Realms, which unfold in sequence as the Three Worlds; below, they become the Three Powers; in the heavens, the Three Lights. In the human body, they are the Three Origins; within, they are the Three Ones. All are formed through the Dao’s division, refinement, and circulation. Merged into one, they return to the wondrous source of the Dao.

• Three Realms: Formed from the ancestral Qi of the Three Treasure Lords, revered deities in Daoism. Their colors are blue-green, yellow, and white, and they are also associated with the Three Qi of Mystery, Origin, and Beginning. They are the source of all heavens and the root of the myriad transformations.
• Three Worlds: The Desire Realm comprises six heavens and governs the Nine Immortals; the Form Realm comprises eighteen heavens and governs the Nine Perfected; the Formless Realm comprises four heavens and governs the Nine Sages.
• Three Powers: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. As the True Classic of the Surging Void says, clear and light Qi forms Heaven, while heavy and turbid Qi forms Earth.

Taken as a whole, the passage says that the Dao transcends sound, color, and form. It can only be indicated provisionally through expressions such as the unseen, the inaudible, and the subtle, and in the end these must still “merge into one.” The commentaries further develop this triad through levels of Daoist cosmology, including the Realms, Worlds, Powers, Lights, Three Origins, and Three Ones.

A Plain-Language Reading of The Broad Meaning of the Dao De Zhenjing

The Qi that brings things into harmony gives rise to human beings; this is called the Three Powers. Heaven, Earth, and humanity together are known as the Three Powers.

The Three Luminaries: The light of the sun is the Sun; the light of the Great Yin is the Moon; the remaining light of the Sun and Moon is the stars. Together, they are called the Three Luminaries.

The Three Origins: Within the human body, the brain is the Muddy Pellet Palace and governs the Upper Origin; the heart is the Crimson Palace and governs the Middle Origin; below the navel is the Dantian (energy center), which governs the Lower Origin. The revered spirits of the Three Origins each govern Yin-Yang, and twelve thousand spirits and Qi nourish the human body.

The Three Ones: What the Upper Origin governs is called the “Origin One”; what the Middle Origin governs is called the “True One”; what the Lower Origin governs is called the “Correct One.” The spirits of these three Ones govern the circulation of Jing (essence) and Qi, preserve the precious spirit of Jing, and keep the body in the world of highest purity. There is a practice of cultivating the Three Ones called “Returning Wind and Blending Together.” In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor followed the instructions of Master Ning and went to Mount Emei to pay his respects to the Celestial Perfected Sovereign and receive the teachings. He then devoted himself to contemplation for a thousand days, joined the Three Ones’ Supreme Perfected Ones in commanding thirty-six thousand spirits, and ascended to Heaven riding a yellow dragon.

Heaven floats above, Earth takes form below, and human beings live between them. These three generate and transform one another without end. Liezi said: Heaven is an accumulation of Qi, and Earth an accumulation of solid matter; the Sun and Moon are luminosities within Qi. The Three Ones are nonbeing within being; the Three Origins are being within nonbeing. Being and nonbeing respond to one another, giving rise to Jing, spirit, and Qi; the three arise together within the human being. Thus, people live when they obtain them and die when they lose them.

Spirit is born from Heaven’s Yang Qi. A person’s movements and stillness, speech and response, actions, and calculations all belong to spirit. Jing comes from the Qi of Earth: it forms through the gathering of the substance of the grains and the essence of the five flavors. Qi is the Qi of harmony and balance. The wondrous functioning of the Dao descends into the human body, nourishing people through the warmth of breathing. These three blend together in the body; this is called “blended into One.”

“Above, it is not bright; below, it is not dark.”

Commentary: What is above must be bright, and what is below must be dark. But the Dao, though above, is not truly above; even there, it is not bright. Though below, it is not truly below; even there, it is not dark.

Exegesis: “Bright” means luminous; “dark” means obscure. Things with form and substance occupy fixed positions: what is above is bright, and what is below is dark. Only the wondrous origin is indistinct and cannot be given a fixed name. Thus, above, it is not bright; below, it is not dark, and it can… (The scripture ends here. According to the familiar interpretation of the Dao De Jing, the Dao transcends the distinctions between above and below, brightness and darkness.)

The Scripture:

It can dwell above and it can dwell below; it can be bright and it can be obscure. If this were not the most profound and unfathomable place between Heaven and Earth, who could truly take part in it and understand it?

Explanation:

What people usually call “bright” must be plainly clear above; this is a sign of abundant Yang Qi. What they call “dark” must be sunk deeply below; this is a sign of gathered Yin Qi. Yin and Yang each have their proper place, brightness and darkness each have their fixed appearance, and things with form and substance each have a settled position.

Yet when the Dao dwells above, it does not blaze with dazzling brightness—the Dao is not Yang. When it dwells below, it does not sink into murk and decline—the Dao is not Yin. Thus, the Dao is neither Yin nor Yang, yet it can be Yin and can be Yang. It cannot be seen through any fixed appearance, nor sought in any fixed direction. Heaven attains the Dao and becomes clear: this is its ability to be above. Earth attains the Dao and becomes settled: this is its ability to be below. Yang attains the Dao and can move: this is its ability to be bright. Yin attains the Dao and can be still: this is its ability to be obscure, dark, and hidden. Hence it is called the most profound and subtle thing under Heaven.

The Appended Statements of the Book of Changes says: “If it were not the most profound and subtle thing under Heaven, who could take part in it?” The meaning is that the workings and realm of the ultimate Dao are so deep and subtle that only what is most refined and hidden among all things under Heaven could enter into and accord with them.

The Scripture:

It flows on without end and cannot be named; it returns once more to formlessness.

Note: “Flowing on without end” means ceaseless movement. Neither clearly bright nor clearly dark, it moves without limit. Its power to bring forth and transform the myriad things cannot be truly expressed by a name, and cannot be confined within the bounds of ordinary “things.” It continually gives rise to and transforms things without ever settling into any one thing. Its subtle source is clear and still; hence the text says, “it returns once more to formlessness.”

Commentary: The subtle source brings forth and transforms; its movement is without end. The workings of the myriad things can only be given names as a makeshift. It makes things into things without itself becoming bound by things; it gives life to life without itself becoming bound by life. In the end, it cannot be traced back to any fixed thing. The subtle source is clear and still, never grasped as a single thing. Hence the text says, “it returns once more to formlessness.”

Explanation: The Dao is subtle and still at its root, yet gives rise to the many transformations. Its workings generate and sustain things in an unbroken flow. It meets things without being constrained by them—things remain what they are—and gives life without clinging to life—life unfolds of itself. The Dao leaves no trace to follow and does not rely on its own achievements. It is deep, subtle, and clear, and cannot be treated as something “existent” with shape and form. This is what “formlessness” means here: “thing” refers to something whose appearance can be grasped.

The Scripture:

This is called the form of the formless, the image of the imageless. It is called the elusive and indistinct.

Note: This means a “form” with no fixed shape and an “image” with no fixed substance. It cannot be called existent, nor can it be called nonexistent; existence and nonexistence are difficult to name. Hence it is called elusive and indistinct, as though present and yet absent.

Overall meaning:

This passage explains that the Great Dao transcends fixed oppositions such as Yin and Yang, brightness and darkness, yet embraces above and below, movement and stillness, clarity and repose. It is the most profound and subtle thing under Heaven. Its ceaseless transformations cannot be named, and ultimately settle into no single thing. It appears as “the form of the formless, the image of the imageless,” in an elusive and indistinct state—neither ordinary Yin and Yang nor any identifiable image of a thing.

A Commentary on the Widespread Sacred Meaning of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

“The shape of what has no shape; the image of what is without things”

Commentary: “Shape” means form, and “image” means the appearance of things. The subtle source is a complete unity. It originally has no fixed form or substance, yet the myriad transformations all receive their being from it. Only as kinds of things flow, change, and take shape can they be spoken of as existing or not existing. Within what has no shape, shapes appear; within what is without things, images of things appear. It cannot simply be called “being,” nor can it be assigned definitively to “nonbeing.” Since neither being nor nonbeing can fully name it, it is called “mysterious and indistinct.”

Explanation: The Dao gives life to the myriad things, sets transformations in motion, and forms their bodies. Thus it brings shapes into being within what has no shape, and images into being within what is without things. If we call it “nonbeing,” shapes and images nevertheless arise through it; if we call it “being,” it remains dark and hard to perceive. Neither nonbeing nor being: this is the mysterious and indistinct. “Mysterious and indistinct” refers to this state of being neither being nor nonbeing. The Appended Judgment on the Qian Hexagram in the Book of Changes says, “Clouds move and rain falls; the myriad kinds of things take form,” describing how different things flow and spread out, then acquire form.

“Meet it, and you do not see its head; follow it, and you do not see its tail.”

Note: It has no beginning, so even if you meet it head-on, you cannot see its head. It has no end, so even if you follow behind it, you cannot see its tail.

Commentary: The utmost essence has no form, and the utmost vastness has no bounds. So whoever meets it cannot reach its head, and whoever follows it cannot reach its tail. Having no head means having no beginning; having no tail means having no end. What has neither beginning nor end cannot be grasped by meeting or following it.

Explanation: The utmost Dao stands alone, without beginning or end. It cannot be exhausted by ideas of before and after, and so it cannot be attained by meeting or following it. Thus it is older than antiquity without being old, and comes into being in a later age without being young; it precedes the myriad things without being their beginning, and continues beyond countless eons without being their end. How, then, could anyone seek it by meeting or following it? What is more, it fills Heaven and Earth and extends throughout the void. There is nowhere without the Dao, and nowhere it does not reach. It is neither present nor ancient: what could count as its beginning, and what as its end? From the outset, it has no distinction between before and after. Ordinary things can be followed when they depart and met when they arrive. The Dao neither comes nor goes, so it cannot be sought by following or meeting it.

“Hold to the ancient Dao, and govern what exists today.”

Note: Hold to the ancient Dao of Wuwei (non-action) to govern the affairs of the present that involve action; in this way, one can return to simplicity.

Commentary: This explains that the ancient sage-kings transformed the people through the utmost Dao and Wuwei. The teaching therefore says: if people today can hold to the Wuwei governance practiced by the ancients and use it to govern the affairs of the present that involve action, they can transform the people and shape their customs without relying on words.

Explanation: “Govern” means to direct and administer. Those who transformed the people in ancient times did so through Wuwei and noninterference. If one can use the ancient Dao to govern the affairs of the present that involve action, one can achieve the same effect of nurturing and transforming the people.

Transformation, Form and Name, and Wuwei

“Transformation” has form and a name, yet belongs to Wuwei (non-action), so it is easy to put into practice. “Principle” has form, yet is harder to guide into transformation. If today’s rulers could uphold the way of the ancients and govern themselves through Wuwei, they could quickly bring about peace and order. The rulers of remote antiquity honored the highest De (Virtue/Power) without claiming to possess De: this is Wuwei. The teachings of later ages, by contrast, became confined by names and offices and bound by regulations: this is action. To use the formless to guide what has form may lead things toward the right path; to use what has form to constrain what has form is already to invite disorder.

To Know the Beginning of Antiquity Is to Know the Guiding Principle of the Dao

Commentary: To know what was practiced at the beginning of antiquity is to know what is called the guiding principle of the Dao’s transformation.

Exposition: The preceding passage spoke of “upholding the Dao of antiquity”; this passage draws on that idea and urges its practice. It also says “to know the beginning of antiquity,” showing that the practice of the Dao must bring about transformation. Thus it reiterates: if rulers can know the Dao of antiquity and govern through Wuwei, they should hold fast to simplicity, cherish clarity, and remain tranquil. This is what it means to know Wuwei, understand principle, and uphold the guiding principle of the Dao.

Meaning: Fearing that rulers might find it difficult to apply the ways of antiquity and fail to persist in Wuwei, the text raises this passage again to encourage them. Those who know Wuwei can bring about transformation with ease, and the ancient Dao is easy to put into practice. The key lies in people putting it into effect; the difference between a superficial age and one of genuine simplicity is not the whole story. The guiding principle of the Dao lies here. As the saying goes: “Draw out the main thread, and the myriad strands unfold; draw out the guiding cord, and the myriad meshes rise.” The same principle applies to governing oneself and governing a state. “Clear and tranquil” comes from the Taixuan Jing. When a state is governed by holding to Wuwei, the people return to simplicity and naturalness. When the self is governed by holding to Wuwei, the Shen (spirit) is preserved and Qi (vital energy) flourishes. Flourishing Qi can prolong life; preserving Shen can lead one to ascend to the mysterious realm. This is the essential way to govern a state and cultivate oneself.

Chapter Fifteen: Those Skilled in the Dao in Antiquity (Chapter Outline)

Exposition: The preceding chapter clarified that the wondrous source has no image and yet, in its function, reaches everywhere. This chapter explains that those who are deeply attuned to the mysterious Dao are never full, and so can endure wear and decline. It begins with the five phrases starting “Those of antiquity,” which show the source of the skilled practitioners’ excellence. The next seven phrases, beginning “Cautious, like…,” show why the bearing of their De is hard to discern. The following two phrases, beginning “Who can…,” describe the gradual emergence of progress through cultivation. From “Preserve this…” to the end, the text concludes by confirming what has been accomplished without becoming fixed in it.

Meaning: To clarify the wonder of “upholding the ancient” in the preceding chapter, the text again describes the deep and complete De of those who followed the Dao in antiquity. It elaborates through a series of images: they are “cautious” and “hesitant,” proceeding with care; “solemn” and “open,” drawing in and unfolding; “simple” and “vast,” broad in spirit and generous in nature…

The General Meaning of the Scripture

Original: Those of ancient times who were skilled in practicing the Dao (the Way) were subtle, wondrous, profound, and penetrating; they could not be understood deeply.

Plain-language interpretation: Those in ancient times who were skilled in following the Dao understood it with great subtlety and wonder, and were profoundly attuned to its mysteries. Their De (Virtue/Power) was so deep that ordinary people could scarcely see through them or truly know them.

Continuation from the Previous Passage, as Explained in the Notes and Commentary

Some say: One may be deep and broad, or undifferentiated and still, or clear or turbid, responding and adapting to circumstances. Such is De. Those who experience and put it into practice for themselves will not suffer loss through complacency.

Note (earlier interpretation): “A person of the Way” means one who has made the Dao their vocation. Those in ancient times who were skilled in acting according to the Dao could discern and illuminate the subtle, wondrous Dao in all its profundity. Their character and capacity were deep and unfathomable, beyond recognition.

Commentary (elaboration): “Of old” means ancient times. “A person of the Way” is one who has made the Dao their vocation. Those in ancient times who were skilled in taking the Dao as their way of life were subtle and wondrous, profoundly still and penetrating. They embodied the Dao and understood its words, flowing freely without obstruction. Their bearing and capacity were empty, deep, and unfathomable, beyond recognition.

Interpretation: “A person of the Way” refers to a person of the Dao in ancient times. Such a person’s conduct and standing, whether outside public life or serving at court, could be called the way of a shi.

The several kinds of shi described by Zhuangzi include:

• The shi of the mountains and valleys: They cultivated themselves deliberately, prized their conduct, and withdrew from the world and its customs.
• The shi who brought peace to the age: They spoke of benevolence and righteousness, loyalty and trustworthiness, respectfulness and frugality, and yielding to others.
• The shi of the court: They established great achievements and renown, upheld the ruler-minister relationship, and clarified the distinctions between those above and below.
• The shi of rivers and seas: They lived in marshes and open, secluded places, fishing and avoiding the world.
• The shi who practiced daoyin: They blew and breathed, exhaled the old and inhaled the new, and practiced the “bear climb and bird stretch”—exercises that imitate a bear climbing a tree or a bird extending its neck.

Those who do not strive deliberately yet are noble, do not speak of benevolence and righteousness yet cultivate themselves, do not pursue achievement or fame yet put themselves in order, do not live by rivers and seas yet are at ease, and do not practice daoyin yet enjoy long life—these alone are shi who take the Dao as their foundation.

The uses of the first five kinds of shi can be measured, and their activities have limits. Only the shi who take the Dao as their foundation are subtle and wondrous, responding to change with profound penetration. Their action is empty and still, beyond the reach of intellectual scrutiny. They are neither absent nor lacking in anything; calm and limitless, they draw all good things to themselves. That is why they cannot be understood.

“Strive to Describe Them”

Original: Because they cannot be understood, one must strive to describe them.

Note: It is precisely because their virtue and capacity are difficult to discern that one can only make an effort to describe their outward bearing; what follows is such a description.

Commentary: Although a skilled person of the Way can guide others through their dignified bearing, their inner world is expansive and their heavenly light is hard to fathom. Their bearing must therefore be described through effort, seeking traces of their easy, accommodating manner to guide and transform ordinary people.

Interpretation: Those skilled in following the Dao transform others by setting themselves aright, and others follow when they set their conduct aright. Seeing their virtuous bearing, people naturally awaken to understanding. Their inner world is expansive, while their heavenly light is difficult to measure. Thus, when the scripture says “strive to describe them,” it means using visible signs to offer an approximate account of virtue that is too deep to fathom, so that ordinary people may also follow it toward understanding.

Brief explanations of specialized terms:

• Shi: Here, usually a person whose vocation is to cultivate and practice the Dao; the term is not limited to an official.
• Subtle, wondrous, profound, and penetrating: Understanding the Dao with great subtlety and attunement to its mysterious principles.
• “Bear climb and bird stretch”: Names for ancient exercises used to cultivate health.
• “Strive to describe them”: Make an effort to portray their outward bearing. This phrase appears in Chapter 15 of the Dao De Jing.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Clarifying What “Stillness” Means

The “illumination” spoken of here means the light of Heaven—the natural brightness of the Dao—not the light seen by human eyes. The light of Heaven acts of itself. People see only human affairs, and things see only the affairs of things: each sees what lies within its own view, but cannot see the other side. Thus De (Virtue/Power), vast, peaceful, and steadfast, cannot be fathomed. This explains the way of yielding the mind to the myriad things and following the course of worldly affairs, using this as a means to guide ordinary society and receive those who are still caught in the everyday world. So Zhuangzi then answers Shun: life and nature are not yours to possess; they were entrusted by Heaven and Earth, and are a fate to be accepted in accord with their course.

“As hesitant as one crossing a river in winter”

Note: “Hesitant” means unhurried and composed.

When a good person puts the Dao into practice in the world, it is like crossing a river in winter. Ordinary people cling to things, so they are afraid; I, the sage, am unstained by them, so I remain at ease.

Commentary: Though a good person lives in the world, they are not stained by desire and attachment, like someone crossing a winter river with composure. In winter the river is frozen solid, so there is no fear of sinking.

Explanation: “Hesitant” can also mean uncertain or troubled. When crossing a swift current, one must wade if the water is deep, reaching the waist, or lift one’s clothing if it is shallow. Wading through water above the knees is called “crossing.” To cross a river in winter is to feel the cold penetrate to the bones, so the person crossing is bound to hesitate: the cold pains the heart and hurts the feet.

The True Person sees that worldly grasping brings no benefit to the body and finds it as troubling as crossing a river in winter. Worldly desires and attachments arise with circumstances and cloud the mind. Countless concerns gather like clouds, and countless paths surge like bees. People race after fame, status, sights, and sounds; the prospect of great profit and abundant wealth stirs their greed. Some kill animals to indulge themselves; others harm and kill in pursuit of pleasure. They plunge into the river of desire and drift along without turning back, drowning in its waves and never returning. How could the icy cold beneath their feet be the only hardship? The consequences are plain: those who drown in greed for profit and travel far in pursuit of gain face robbery on land or water; those who oppress others face disputes, lawsuits, and punishment; those who deceive their superiors face execution and the ruin of their households; those who abuse their subordinates invite raiders and enemies. How much worse are the great calamities of taking life, harming oneself, bringing down a state, or destroying a family?

Those who practice the Dao know that this is cause for concern. They therefore use the image of crossing a river as a profound warning, one truly worth treasuring.

“Cautious as though the neighbors were watching.”

A person who cultivates the Dao acts with the care one would take if afraid the neighbors might find out. This is not fear of gossip; it is holding fast to one’s inner principles and not deceiving oneself, even in a dark room. As desire and attachment grow faint, one becomes more attentive to every word and action, weighing them carefully for fear of straying from the Dao. It is like looking over the ice before crossing a river, or being especially cautious lest the neighbors notice.

“Grave as a guest; open as ice about to melt.”

Toward others, be respectful, as a guest solemnly mindful of the host: do not overstep or make demands. Within, remain unconfined, like ice beginning to melt in early spring—relaxed and free of lingering attachment. In nurturing and caring, and in matters of fame and gain, do not act with artifice; yet do not let things cling to you. Be respectful and measured, open and unhindered.

Here, “the neighbors” means those living nearby; “grave” means solemn and respectful, while “open” means dispersed or dissolved. “Ice about to melt” refers to ice on the verge of thawing. This passage comes from a chapter on the virtue of the “good person” and belongs to the same sequence as the surrounding lines about “crossing a river in winter” and “living among neighbors.” Its emphasis is on combining caution with freedom from attachment.

Respect for one’s lord, mutual respect between host and guest, and keeping proper decorum are the ordinary ways of the world. The perfected person—the one who has realized the Dao—however, is quiet and sparing with words, cautious and disciplined in self-cultivation, and always reverent as though standing before a revered lord. The person is free from unrestrained desire, does good without becoming rigid or scattered, and adapts with ease, like ice thawing in spring, no longer fixed and unchanging.

“Steady and substantial, like uncarved wood”

Note: Though open and fluid, like ice melting away, the person never takes pride in this, yet remains steady and substantial, like plain, uncarved wood, without distinctions.

Commentary: “Steady and substantial” means honest and grounded; “uncarved wood” means plain and unworked. This describes someone who does not become attached to external things or chase after fame and rivalry, yet whose De (Virtue/Power) is steady and substantial like uncarved wood, without distinctions.

Meaning: Though outwardly open and adaptable, moving freely with things, inwardly the perfected person is gentle and steadfast, calm and still. Thus the person suffers no harm from contention and naturally finds the joy of serenity and harmony.

“Vast, like a valley”

Note: The person’s capacity for De is open and boundless, able to contain everything, like an empty valley.

Commentary: “Vast” means broad and open. A good person who carries the Dao and embraces De has a capacious nature and can receive all things, like an empty valley that contains everything.

Meaning: Once De is steady and substantial, one’s capacity becomes broad and generous. Nothing—neither good nor evil—is excluded, and neither right nor wrong can disturb it. The person receives everything with the openness of an empty valley.

“Muddled, like turbid water”

Note: The person blends into the world and shares its light, seeming turbid while remaining inwardly clear.

Commentary: A good person’s mind is clear and pure, yet can accommodate things, temper its light, and mingle with the dust without setting itself apart. The person is muddled like turbid water, so outsiders cannot fathom the depths.

Meaning: Clear water reflects the good and evil in things, yet it is difficult to measure the water’s depth. When autumn floods suddenly rise and turbid waves first surge, the water spreads and roils; oxen and horses can no longer be distinguished, and its depth cannot be known. It appears bewildering—who would lift their robes and try to cross it? The perfected person tempers their light in dealing with things, blends in and follows the current, and does not display cleverness. Like turbid water, the person’s form can be seen, but their traces are hard to discern. In governing the country, a ruler should prize bright De, avoid intrusive scrutiny, and show the people a way of unadorned simplicity. Let the people remain unaware and unknowing, following the patterns of the sovereign. This is the transformation wrought by the Dao; no goodness is greater.

“Who can make the turbid still, so that it slowly clears?”

Note: “Who” means who. Who can still and settle what is turbid, so that it gradually clears of its own accord?

(This line follows “muddled, like turbid water”: turbid water must be left still before it slowly clears. It is a metaphor for the cultivator of the Dao, who must remain still and avoid impatience in order to pass from turbidity to clarity.)

Commentary

The text immediately continues the preceding discussion: Turbid water must be left to settle before it becomes clear. This serves as a metaphor for the mind of a person who cultivates goodness: as long as the mind is not disturbed by external influences, it will naturally grow still. So the question is: who, amid the world’s mingled passions and desires, in an environment like muddy water, can steady themselves with the clear and still nature of the Dao, and keep those passions and desires from arising? It is like muddy water slowly becoming clear. “Who” here means precisely that: who?

Explanation

To the outside observer, the realized person appears to mingle with the ordinary world and be no different from anyone else. Inwardly, however, the mind is clear by nature and always in accord with the Dao. Just as water retains its clear nature even when muddy, the mind can be clear without being mixed with turbid, worldly thoughts. If people can cleanse themselves of worldly contamination and clarify the source of the mind, then, just as water gradually becomes clear, they too can approach the state of the realized person. The Old Lord, Laozi, took pity on people who were absorbed in desire and lived amid declining customs. They threw themselves into passion and desire, pursued fame and profit, and tossed in the turbid waves of right and wrong and the river of birth and death. They would not take the serious practice of the Dao to heart. Who could draw them out? So he used this metaphor to rescue those who had lost their way and urge people toward the path of clarification and refinement, in the hope that they would soon return to the Dao of clarity and emptiness.

Note

Who can remain settled in this clarity for a long time, yet go on to seek a higher teaching and cultivate through “movement”? In this way, the still and clear spirit does not become stuck in any single method, but gradually unfolds through movement. Here, “unfolds” means to emerge and come forth through movement.

Commentary

This says that one must not cling to a teaching or become stuck in it. Who can use a still and clear nature to put an end to passion and desire, as water gradually settles and clears? If one simply stays in this clarity for a long time without moving, one has not yet reached full awakening and cannot be said to have truly attained liberation. One must go on to seek a more excellent and subtle method, and practice the Dao through active effort: diminish, and diminish again; follow the stages of practice and let things fall away stage by stage. Then the clear and still nature will not remain bound to a method, but will gradually transcend it through movement.

Explanation (“Who can settle into stillness for a long time, then set things in motion and let them gradually unfold?”)

The Great Dao cherishes life and guides people by offering a wide range of methods: countless ways to refine one’s nature and myriad practices to cultivate the mind, through which insight leads to practice and practice leads to realization. In broad outline, these include breathing techniques to draw in the primordial harmony and swallowing and rinsing with cloud fluid; eating pine and cypress, abstaining from grain, and taking medicinal mushrooms; withdrawing from the court to dwell in the Upper Clarity realm and secretly observing the Mysterious Dipper; using the Five Metals and Eight Stones, water-jade and flowing pearls, Yin cauldrons and Yang furnaces, and the Five Blossoms and Nine Cycles; and using plain-text scriptures and cinnabar registers to summon spirits and ghosts, with golden seals and blue silk pledges made before Heaven and Earth. These many paths all seek life and renewal through movement, allowing them to unfold gradually through practice. One must not remain settled in a single kind of stillness for too long and mistake it for the ultimate attainment.

Thus the various methods transmitted by the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing)—the supreme deities of Daoism—including those of Zhengyi, Daode, Shengxuan, Dongshen, Lingbao, Mingzhen, and related lineages, can all help ordinary people shed old habits, ascend into the Dao-realm, attain successive ranks, and gradually rise to the level of the perfected person (zhenren).

Among them are contemplative methods such as “running with the two luminaries” (cultivating in tandem with sun and moon), “paying court to the five stars” (venerating the stars of the five directions), methods keyed to the pole star, climbing the Big Dipper, and employing the celestial net and earthly tally; also swallowing the sun and swallowing the moon, subduing hun and po, binding and gathering essence-souls, gazing at cloud-qi, visualizing the Nine Perfected Ones, receiving official duties, ascending to the mysterious realm, “lying in the Dipper” (a method whose object of visualization is the Northern Dipper), entering the various “chamber-caves” (spiritual rooms in visualization), as well as the left and right spirit-flights, yin-yang and six jia, the three sections and eight effulgences, and the twenty-four perfected ones— all visualization (cunsi) practices. There are also visualization, ingesting the Three Primes (the qi of heaven, earth, and water in Daoist cosmology), focused contemplation of the Three Ones (the trinitarian deities within the body or the cosmos), and inner-scape visualization of the Purple Chamber, Yellow Gate, crimson effulgence, and Cinnabar Infant. The cultivation chapters of Mount Nanyue and the oral formulas of the Green Lad (a transcendent of the Eastern Sea), inner observation of the five viscera, subduing the Six Heavens (six kinds of malign qi or yin forces in Daoist demonology), daoyin, swallowing talismans, riding the wind, nourishing qi, and levitation—all are recorded in scriptures of the perfected.

Sometimes a practitioner specializes in a single method and thereby attains the Dao; one may even rescue distant ancestors from the long night of darkness and cause oneself to soar into the Great Void. In an instant one can traverse the Nine Heavens—how would that fall short of Ruo Shi, who with a single glance toured the six directions? Or of Hongmeng? Yet people in the world who cannot wholeheartedly grasp these principles will declare that immortality is not something one can seek through prolonged study; others say that even those who attain the Dao still have a term of life and, when their allotted span ends, must sink at last. They do not understand that one who attains the Dao becomes a transcendent, from transcendent becomes a perfected person, from perfected person enters sainthood, and at the utmost of sainthood merges with the Dao and becomes true—no longer bound by limits of lifespan or by the reckoning of an end. In a moment one may pass through aeons; with a lift of the hand one may cross myriad heavens. The Wen xuan says that a brief parting is like a thousand years, a short journey like ten thousand li; the Buxu ci says the Eight Heavens are as if in the palm and the six directions—how far could that be? All speak of the realm of one who has attained the Dao.

But once cultivation accords with the Great Dao, one must forget that one is cultivating; cultivating while forgetting, without clinging and without stagnation—that is the subtle point. Methods are for clarifying the Great Dao; once the Dao is understood, the methods should be forgotten. Words are for expressing the mind; once the mind is understood, the words should be forgotten. Cling to methods and the Dao cannot be reached; cling to words and the mind cannot fully shine forth. Therefore, not clinging to methods yet continuing to advance in cultivation; not clinging to words yet constantly gaining new insight.

The Xisheng jing says “practice in sequence, arrive in sequence, extinguish in sequence”—this is a metaphor for the small vehicle of conditioned methods. First it teaches beginners to enter the gate; after entering, the middle vehicle gradually tempers practice; when practice matures, the great vehicle makes one forget attachment. Thus ordinary people can gain realization and ascend the sacred realm step by step. Although the fruits of transcendent, perfected, and sage are divided into twenty-seven ranks, what matters in practice is to grasp this one point.

The method of cultivation must not be clung to rigidly. This is what is meant by “gradually bringing forth life, gradually becoming clear and bright”—the essential point of what the following passage calls “coming in sequence and passing away in sequence.”

Those who preserve this Dao do not seek fullness

Commentary: To preserve this Dao of “gradually becoming clear and bright, gradually bringing forth life,” one must cling to nothing. To cling single-mindedly to “clarity” and crave “the bringing forth of life” is to become “full.” This leads to losing the Dao, which is why the text says, “do not seek fullness.”

Explanation: To be bound by a method of cultivation and content with “clarity” is to be full. Thus, if one wishes to preserve the Dao of gradual clarity and gradual generation, one should attach oneself to nothing, attaining without possessing. To cling now to clarity and crave generation is to suffer the harm of fullness. Fullness obstructs the Great Dao, which is why the text says, “do not seek fullness.”

Interpretation: To understand the method of “coming in sequence and passing away in sequence” is to grasp the key to gradual clarity and gradual generation. Only by keeping hold of this key without becoming stuck in fullness can one accord with the principle in the next line.

Precisely because they are not full, they can wear away what is old and not make a new achievement of it

Commentary: Only those who are not full can treat a practice they have recently realized as something already worn thin and in need of being set aside. They do not cling to a recent achievement as though it were something new and precious.

Explanation: Those who are free of desire and stagnation, reaching the point of Wuwei (non-action), abide in no method and seek no fullness. They continually treat a method they have recently realized as worn thin, and seek a higher state rather than clinging to it as a “new achievement.”

Interpretation: To complete the old method and realize a new one is the path from the Lesser Vehicle to the Middle Vehicle. The Middle Vehicle, whether provisional or real, still remains attached to cultivation. One must also set aside these provisional and real approaches that involve cultivation, and seek entry into the wondrous Wuwei of the Great Vehicle. If one clings to cultivation and fails to awaken to Wuwei, then the “new achievement” itself becomes fullness. Thus one should diminish and diminish again, moving from the coarse toward the subtle.

As for governing a state: the ancient sage rulers and worthy ministers—those called adept practitioners—were mysteriously attuned to Dao and De (Virtue/Power), whose De could not be measured. They remained as cautious as one crossing a river in winter, or walking on ice; they took heed from the example of their neighbors and stayed guarded, as if they were guests. Through Wuwei they adapted to change, bending and extending in response to the people, never becoming stuck, but thawing like ice. They were as receptive as a valley, and embraced simplicity in order to guide others. Their governance seemed dim and murky outwardly, while inwardly their minds shone with clarity. They did not become arrogant or overfull, but upheld the way of wearing things down and making no new achievement of them. Their reign would surely endure, and the people would enjoy peace and well-being. How far away, then, could the return of ancient simplicity be?

This passage is part of the Guang Shengyi’s commentary, explanation, and interpretation of the Daodejing lines “Those who preserve this Dao do not seek fullness” and “Precisely because they are not full, they can wear away what is old and not make a new achievement of it.” It also uses the governance of a state to illustrate a way of ruling that does not seek fullness or new achievements.