《道德真經廣聖義》Vol. 24

Dao De Zhen Jing: Broad Sagely Meaning, Scroll Twenty-Three

Narrated by Mr. Guangcheng of the Tang, Du Guangting

Good Conduct Leaves No Ruts or Tracks (Chapter 27)

(Subcommentary: The previous chapter discusses taking gravity and stillness as the ruler; this chapter clarifies that words and actions do not stagnate, that one constantly is good at saving people, that one guards gravity and stillness to govern the state, and that good conduct is wuwei (non-action). It says that words value forgetting words; first it marks the five kinds of goodness, then it clarifies good saving, good lowering, and mutual forgetting, and finally it concludes with the beginning of the wondrous essentials. The previous chapter warns against levity and rashness—this is the rule for ruler and minister to guard their positions; this chapter marks the five kinds of goodness—this is the practice of cultivating the Dao and investigating the real. As for saving people and saving things, it expresses the compassion of abandoning nothing; being a teacher and being a resource expresses the meaning of mutual necessity; once again it manifests the essential wonder and warns those long deluded.)

Scriptural Text: Good Conduct Leaves No Ruts or Tracks

Commentary: Within all dharmas, one realizes the true nature; acting without the mark of acting, it is therefore called “good conduct.” In this way the mind mysteriously unites with the Dao, and so no cart ruts or footprints can be found.

Subcommentary: This clarifies that Dharma-nature is pure. “Conduct” refers to cultivation. The purity of Dharma-nature is what is called Chongxuan (Double Mystery); although one relies on diligent cultivation, one must be without attachment. They come in stages and cease in stages; conduct without the mark of conduct; the mind unites with the Dao—thus it is called good conduct. In this way emptiness and existence are equalized as one, mind and object are both pure; if one wished to seek ruts and tracks, would it not be difficult? Therefore it says, “Good conduct leaves no ruts or tracks.”

Meaning: The purity of Dharma-nature is originally in accord with the Dao. The Dao divides primal Qi and gives birth to humans; the numinous seat and intelligent nature are originally pure. After birth, various defilements and desires muddle and disorder their truth, and so they depart from the Dao day by day. One who skillfully cultivates closes the six desires, calms the five emotions, removes all views and dharmas, extinguishes all marks of existence, inwardly empties the numinous terrace to seek the true nature; returning to the origin, one is pure. Although one relies on the teachings and the practices of the Three Vehicles to restore this nature, with respect to dharmas one does not abide within the marks of practice, nor stagnate or attach. What comes in sequence is cultivated; what is cultivated in sequence ceases; extinguishing emptiness and departing from existence, one is equal and pure. Therefore no traces of mind can be seen—inwardly it is called mind, and the mind is already still; outwardly it is called object, and the object is also forgotten. Thus, with mind still and object forgotten, one does not stagnate on either path. Since in the mind…

(The text below continues with the remaining commentary and subcommentary on the chapter “Good Conduct Leaves No Ruts or Tracks”; it may be translated in the same manner.)

Annotations are being added to the commentary on this passage of the Guangshengyi to the True Scripture of the Dao and De.

Below is a plain-language explanation and a glossary of terms for this passage of the Guangshengyi to the True Scripture of the Dao and De. The whole passage can be copied and saved.

Plain-language explanation

“Those skilled in traveling leave no tracks.”

There is no need to seek far away in order to realize the Dao. When governance and transformation are skillful, no traces of chariots or horses appear beyond the four quarters. Emperors and kings use the Way of clarity and stillness to transform the people. All become one, and the myriad states follow their example. There is no need to spread chariot ruts and horse tracks across the land. This is the subtle art of “skillful action without traces,” achieved both in cultivating oneself and in governing the state.

“Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame.”

Note: One can understand teachings without becoming attached to them: set aside the images to seek their meaning, use principle to verify the Dao, and, having grasped the principle, forget the words. Thus, teachings contain no flaws or grounds for blame.

Commentary: This explains that those who act skillfully do not become attached to teachings. “Flaw” means an affliction; “blame” means reproach; “speech” refers to teachings expressed in words. Those skilled in action understand teachings without becoming attached to them or stuck in them. To be in the words yet forget the words is skillful speech. In this way, one sets aside images and preserves meaning; principle illuminates the matter, and words are forgotten. The teachings then have no afflictions or grounds for reproach. Hence the saying, “Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame.”

Explanation: “Flaw” means an affliction. The sages knew that they could not teach people without words, so they established words to clarify the teachings and used the teachings to instruct people. But ordinary people cling to teachings and become stuck in words. This gives rise to the affliction of flaws and the fault of deserving reproach: they fail to understand principle or reach the Dao, and the more they speak, the farther they stray from the Dao. Those who cultivate well awaken to the teachings through words, reach principle through the teachings, accord with the Dao by seeking principle, and forget words once they have accorded with the Dao. They therefore have neither the affliction of flaws nor the fault of deserving reproach.

The Brief Examples from the Book of Changes (Yilüe li) says: “Words arise from images, so one can follow the words to observe the images. Images arise from meaning, so one can follow the images to observe the meaning. Meaning is fully conveyed through images, and images are made clear through words. Thus, once one has grasped the meaning, one forgets the images; once one has grasped the images, one forgets the words. Those who cling to the words have not grasped the images; those who cling to the images have not grasped the meaning. Images arise from meaning, but if one clings to the images, what one clings to is no longer the images. Words arise from images, but if one clings to the words, what one clings to is no longer the words.”

“Image” means a likeness. The principles and meanings that images convey cannot be reached through speech or conceived by the intellect; they are none other than the true substance that lies beyond words and thought. Hence the term “image” means a likeness. Consider the reflection seen in a mirror: the reflection is not a body of flesh and bone. If one mistakes the reflection for the body, one loses sight of the real person; yet without the reflection, one has no way to recognize that person. The mirror represents words, the reflection represents images, and the body represents meaning. To grasp the meaning through words is simply to accord silently with the truth.

Main text with annotations

(May be saved as 道德真經廣聖義_annotated.txt.)

Realization does not depend on seeking far away; there are no traces of chariot ruts beyond the four quarters. Emperors and kings use the Way of clarity and stillness to transform the people. All become one, and the myriad states follow their example. Thus there is no need to spread chariot ruts and horse tracks across the land. This is what it means for the subtle art of skillful action to be attained in both cultivating oneself and governing the state.

Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame.

Note: One can understand teachings without becoming attached to them: set aside the images to seek their meaning, use principle to verify the Dao, and, having grasped the principle, forget the words. Thus, teachings contain no flaws or grounds for blame.

Commentary: This explains that those who act skillfully do not become attached to teachings. “Flaw” means an affliction; “blame” means reproach; “speech” refers to teachings expressed in words. Those skilled in action understand teachings without becoming attached to them or stuck in them. To be in the words yet forget the words is skillful speech. In this way, one sets aside images and preserves meaning; principle illuminates the matter, and words are forgotten. The teachings then have no afflictions or grounds for reproach. Hence the saying, “Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame.”

Explanation: “Flaw” means an affliction. The sages knew that they could not teach people without words, so they established words to clarify the teachings and used the teachings to instruct people. But ordinary people cling to teachings and become stuck in words. This gives rise to the affliction of flaws and the fault of deserving reproach: they fail to understand principle or reach the Dao, and the more they speak, the farther they stray from the Dao. Those who cultivate well awaken to the teachings through words, reach principle through the teachings, accord with the Dao by seeking principle, and forget words once they have accorded with the Dao. They therefore have neither the affliction of flaws nor the fault of deserving reproach.

The Brief Examples from the Book of Changes (Yilüe li) says: “Words arise from images, so one can follow the words to observe the images. Images arise from meaning, so one can follow the images to observe the meaning. Meaning is fully conveyed through images, and images are made clear through words. Thus, once one has grasped the meaning, one forgets the images; once one has grasped the images, one forgets the words. Those who cling to the words have not grasped the images; those who cling to the images have not grasped the meaning. Images arise from meaning, but if one clings to the images, what one clings to is no longer the images. Words arise from images, but if one clings to the words, what one clings to is no longer the words.”

“Image” means a likeness. The principles and meanings that images convey cannot be reached through speech or conceived by the intellect; they are none other than the true substance that lies beyond words and thought. Hence the term “image” means a likeness. Consider the reflection seen in a mirror: the reflection is not a body of flesh and bone. If one mistakes the reflection for the body, one loses sight of the real person; yet without the reflection, one has no way to recognize that person. The mirror represents words, the reflection represents images, and the body represents meaning. To grasp the meaning through words is simply to accord silently with the truth.

Annotations: “Realization does not depend on seeking far away” means that one need not seek at a distance in order to realize the Dao. “There are no traces of chariot ruts beyond the four quarters” means that no traces of chariots or horses are seen beyond the four quarters; this is a metaphor for skillful governance that leaves no visible traces. “Beyond the four quarters” means outside the four directions. “All become one” means that distinctions dissolve and all under Heaven become alike. “The myriad states follow their example” means that the states submit to their example and teachings. “Cultivating oneself and governing the state” means self-cultivation and governance. “Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame” means that skillful speech and teaching have neither flaws nor grounds for reproach. “Understand teachings” means to grasp their meaning without becoming mired in the written words. “Becoming stuck and attached” means rigidly clinging to doctrines. “Set aside images to seek meaning” means to relinquish images and seek their meaning, applying Wang Bi’s method of interpreting the Book of Changes to the relationship between words and the Dao. “Use principle to verify the Dao and forget the words” means to confirm the Dao through principle and cease clinging to words. “Be in the words yet transcend the words” means to go beyond words while using them, grasping the meaning and then forgetting the words. “Set aside images and preserve meaning” means to relinquish images while retaining their meaning. “In place of people” refers to the sages establishing teachings on behalf of Heaven and transforming the people. “Seek principle and accord with the Dao” means to seek principle and thereby accord with the Dao. The Brief Examples from the Book of Changes (Yilüe li) is Wang Bi’s Brief Examples on the Zhou Changes. “Having grasped the meaning, forget the images; having grasped the images, forget the words” is a key statement in Wang Bi’s interpretation of the Book of Changes. “An image is a likeness” means that an image is only an approximation, not an entity in itself. “The true substance beyond words and thought” means the true substance of the Dao, which transcends words and thought. “Accord silently with the truth” means to unite silently with the true Dao.

This passage follows “Those skilled at closing need no bolt or bar” and “Those skilled at tying need no cord or knot,” and precedes “Those skilled at calculation need no counting rods.” It connects Laozi’s “Those skilled in traveling leave no tracks” and “Those skilled in speech leave no flaw or blame” with Cheng Xuanying’s commentary and Wang Bi’s Brief Examples from the Book of Changes, bringing together the three levels of words, images, and meaning.

Scripture

The mind engages with the teachings in three layers: words (spoken and written language), images (figures and metaphors), and meaning (principles and aims). Words are used to illustrate and explain what can be expressed; meaning is what the words seek to convey; and images connect everything that can be indicated. At this point, one should let go of images and hold to meaning, grasp the principle and forget the words. Those who reach this understanding will not be at fault or open to criticism.

One skilled in calculation needs no counting rods—one who is skilled at planning and measuring need not rely on counting rods.

Commentary

One who understands that the myriad teachings have no separate paths, and that all can be understood through unity without giving rise to other views, need not labor over counting rods. Clarity will come naturally. What could it mean to calculate without leaving traces of calculation, if not to be truly skilled at calculating?

Explanation

This passage explains that one need not calculate and compare among different schools and traditions if one adheres to the teachings without becoming obstructed by them. Clinging to words and deeds, and distinguishing right from wrong, can never be fully resolved, even by the most skilled calculator. If one understands that all teachings are expedient means, ultimately pure and giving rise to no other views, there is no need to weary the mind with counting rods and calculations. One will naturally penetrate the One Vehicle. If skill at calculation reaches this point, what need is there for counting rods? Hence the saying, “One skilled in calculation needs no counting rods.”

Meaning

Chou, ji, and ce all refer to counting. The suan was a long measuring rod. It had a “grip” (wo), the base of the rod and the part held in the hand; beyond the grip, it extended one chi. Counting rods were used to keep score in pitch-pot and archery contests, as in the Rites of Archery, which says, “The side with more tallies drinks; the side with fewer tallies…” The Rites of Pitch-Pot says that when both sides have reported that their arrows are ready, the director of archery sits down and lays out one tally. After the throws, the director picks up the tallies and calls for the score: two tallies make a “pair” (chun), and one makes an “odd” (qi). The odd tally is then used to announce that one person has outscored another, or that their scores are equal. The winner drinks wine, and the loser receives a penalty. From this we can see that rods were used to determine amounts in all kinds of measuring and counting.

The state of Gu had a discipline called mathematics, said to have originated with Huangdi’s minister Lishou, who used numbers to develop arithmetic. Numbers arise from the Dao. The Spring and Autumn Annals says: “The Dao gives rise to One, One gives rise to Two…” (Qi, growth, images, and numbers); from this, calculation arose. To understand the measures of Heaven and Earth, observe the numbers of the myriad things, examine the transformations of Yin-Yang, and investigate the origins of the calendrical system, one must rely on calculation to determine their quantities. The main categories of number are number, measure, capacity, and weight. The sequence runs from one to ten, ten to a hundred, a hundred to a thousand, a thousand to ten thousand, ten thousand to a hundred million, a hundred million to a trillion, a trillion to ten quadrillion, ten quadrillion to a hundred quadrillion, a hundred quadrillion to a thousand quadrillion, a thousand quadrillion to ten thousand quadrillion, ten thousand quadrillion to a hundred million quadrillion, a hundred million quadrillion to a trillion quadrillion, a trillion quadrillion to ten quadrillion quadrillion, and ten quadrillion quadrillion to a hundred quadrillion quadrillion. In the lower system, the count changes at ten; in the middle system, it changes at ten thousand. (These are ancient names for successively larger numbers, used in calendrical calculations and measurement.)

Explication of the Broadly Illuminating Meaning of the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue

The passage above spoke of “myriad myriads” and transformation. This is how measures of length are established: starting with the hu—ten hu make one si; ten si make one li; ten li make one hao; ten hao make one fen; ten fen make one cun; ten cun make one chi; ten chi make one zhang. Three chi make one kui; six chi make one bu; seven chi make one ren; eight chi make one xun; twice a xun make one chang. Three hundred bu make one li, and 2,932 li make one degree.

This is how measures of capacity are established: starting with the gui—six millet grains make one gui; ten gui make one chao; ten chao make one cuo; ten cuo make one shao; ten shao make one he; ten he make one sheng; ten sheng make one dou; ten dou make one shi. Four sheng make one dou (a different measure); four of these make one ou; four ou make one fu; four fu make one zhong. Sixteen dou make one yu, and six dou and four sheng make one hu. Sixteen dou is also called a sou, and sixteen hu make one bing. The Rites of Betrothal also says: ten dou are called a hu, sixteen dou are called a sou, and ten sou make one bing. Zheng Xuan’s commentary adds that a hu is two sheng more than a dou.

This is how measures of weight are established: starting with the shu grain—ten shu make one lei; ten lei make one zhu; twenty-four zhu make one liang; six zhu make one fen; sixteen liang make one jin; thirty jin make one jun; four jun make one shuo; twenty liang make one yi.

These are the four systems of numerical reckoning used in the human world. Even when they are extended to measure Heaven and Earth and to assess Yin-Yang, the workings of creation cannot conceal their intricacy, and ghosts and spirits cannot escape their calculations.

Those who cultivate the Dao need not study other, heterodox paths. It is enough to keep to the One; why rely on techniques of calculation? The One is the Dao: supremely precious, without equal, and unique. It is the source of the myriad transformations, from which they all arise. Heaven attains the One and becomes clear; Earth attains the One and becomes still. The images of the elusive and the essences of the distant and obscure may all be called the One. The sages embrace the One to govern the world; perfected beings attain the One and rise into the clouds. Thus the One can exist or vanish, hide or shine, be round or square, be soft or hard. When the thirsty think of the One, it gives them drink; when the hungry think of the One, it gives them food. To keep to the One and attain the Dao requires no calculations. This is what is meant by “good reckoning.”

One who is good at closing needs no bolt or bar, yet no one can open the door.

Commentary: Forget both words and actions; do not enter other paths. The mind is free from the delusion of chasing after circumstances, and circumstances impose no burden that stirs the mind. Though there is no bolt or bar, who could open it?

This scripture discusses the cultivation state of "being adept at closing" and "being adept at tying."

First, the principle of "adept closing" is explained: True closure doesn't rely on door bolts (horizontal ones called guan, vertical ones called jian), but on inner purity. Those skilled in cultivation maintain undisturbed minds free from desires, like a door without bolts that can never be opened. The same applies to governing a state—the highest form of defense isn't relying on strategic passes or natural barriers, but winning hearts through De (Virtue/Power), making all regions submit willingly. Poor governance will invite internal chaos regardless of fortified defenses.

Next comes the principle of "adept tying": While knots tied with ropes can be untied, Dao practitioners achieve union with the Dao through "sitting in oblivion" (a meditative practice of self-forgetting), creating an invisible bond of spiritual harmony that never unravels. Mundane relationships come and go, but those who attain the Dao remain united with it, untouched by worldly attachments.

The key to cultivation lies in preserving the True One (the fundamental Daoist truth), avoiding greed, resisting temptations of sensory pleasures and power, closing the Three Passes (referring to sensory gates like eyes, ears, and mouth), and eliminating distracting thoughts. This naturally leads to the state where "though lacking bolts it cannot be opened, though lacking ropes it cannot be untied." Governing with this principle achieves universal harmony; cultivating with it achieves unity with the Dao.

Broad Explication of the True Scripture of the Dao and De

Good and poor ways of binding

Those skilled at “binding”—uniting people’s hearts and holding fast to what is fundamental—have De like Heaven, covering all without exception; humaneness like Earth, bearing all without exception; clarity like the Sun, shining on all without exception; and beneficence like water, nourishing all without exception. In this way, the hearts of the people throughout the world can be united and kept from drifting apart.

Those unskilled at binding rely on awe to confront people, harsh commands to constrain them, laws to regulate them, and military force to intimidate them. People may gather for a time out of fear, but in the end they will still scatter. Once they have scattered, rewards may be used to entice them, material benefits to move them, noble titles to honor them, and positions of power to raise them up—but hearts that have already scattered can never be bound together again.

Confusion in cultivating oneself

When self-cultivation is misled by the pursuit of external things, a person seeks ever more knowledge and searches far and wide for techniques. Learning increases while the heart grows more scattered; methods multiply while the spirit grows more fatigued. Trying to rein in the heart through detachment then proves impossible.

Those skilled in cultivation let go of every concern and hold to a single, undivided thought. In stillness, they accord with the Dao and unite with the Real. External influences cannot intrude, and mistaken views cannot entice them. This kind of “good binding” cannot be undone.

“Therefore, the sage is always skilled at saving people, and so no one is abandoned.”

Therefore, the sage constantly saves people through the good way, and so there is no one who ought to be abandoned.

Commentary: The sage here means one who puts the Dao into practice. Though the heart is silent and still, instruction flows freely. Thus the sage constantly saves people through five kinds of goodness, as suggested above by “good binding” and the other examples, enabling them to become clear and open in understanding. With great compassion and impartiality, the sage guides every person without exception. This is why it is said: “always skilled at saving people, and so no one is abandoned.”

Another explanation: The sage constantly guides people far and wide through the good way. When people hear the sound of the teaching, they can all awaken and understand; each receives benefit according to their capacity. There are many paths to awakening: some awaken through a single phrase, some through instruction, some through hearing a scripture, and some through seeing an image. The circumstances differ, and so do the ways of encouraging and guiding people. With great compassion, free of both dislike and attachment, the sage welcomes each person and leads them into the Dharma gate. Once they enter it, they abandon evil and practice good. When everyone turns toward goodness, there is no one who can be called “abandoned.”

“Abandoned people” refers to those who act without goodness and harbor the intention to harm living things. Those they harm become their enemies. When their accumulated evil becomes visible, people punish them; when it remains hidden, ghosts punish them. To be punished by people or ghosts is to be abandoned by people or ghosts. If everyone practices good conduct, no one will be abandoned.

“Without evil or blame, they have all become good people. Why cast them aside?” If people have committed no great evil and made no grave mistakes, and have already become good, why should they be cast aside? The five kinds of goodness refer to these virtues: good speech (speaking appropriately), good conduct (acting uprightly), good planning (making sound plans), good closure (keeping confidences and knowing how to draw things to a close), and good binding (forming ties and bringing things to completion). The Analects says that Confucius was skilled at guiding people. To “guide” means to lead and direct.

“Always skillful at saving things, therefore nothing is cast aside.” By constantly using the good way to save and transform the myriad things, no kind of being is abandoned.

Note: The Sage often uses this teaching of the five kinds of goodness to transform living beings. Thus nothing is cast aside.

Commentary: “Things” refers broadly to all beings, whether sentient or insentient. People are saved through good teaching, so they are not abandoned; things, too, are saved through a good intention and are not discarded. Animals and plants each find their proper place, without premature death or harm. Hence the text says, “Always skillful at saving things, therefore nothing is cast aside.”

Explanation: The Sage uses the teaching of the five kinds of goodness described above to guide people toward goodness. Since all become good, no one is abandoned. The Sage also acts without meddling or forcing things, allowing each thing to fulfill its nature, free from harm or injury. Sincerity can reach even pigs and fish, and benevolence can extend throughout the plants and trees. As people become good and do no harm to things, this shows how the Sage saves things. Since things are unharmed and each remains true to its ordinary nature, this shows why nothing is cast aside.

“This is called hidden illumination.”

Note: To act in secret, without seeking attention, is called “hidden.” The practice of the five kinds of goodness lies in letting go of attachment and dispelling contrivance. When these are let go, no trace remains; hence the action is hidden. Such hidden action leads to understanding, and so is called “illumination.”

Commentary: “Hidden” means acting secretly; “illumination” means understanding. In saving people through good conduct, the key is to let go. If one clings to the teaching or takes pride in one’s achievements, traces will inevitably remain. Therefore, although one “always skillfully saves people,” one’s wisdom remains unobstructed. Acting in this hidden way leads to understanding, and so the text says, “This is called hidden illumination.”

Explanation: The Sage’s intention is to perform good deeds quietly, understand without obstruction, and leave no trace; this is called hidden illumination. Another interpretation takes “hidden” to mean carrying something forward. The nature within the human heart and spirit is originally clear, but is obscured by the dust of worldly things, leaving people deluded about their innate authenticity. Now, through the practice of the five kinds of goodness, the heart is cleansed from within, and one’s true nature shines again, with wisdom’s light restored to its original state. One should constantly practice goodness and save people without stirring up delusive dust, carrying forward the light of wisdom without allowing it to grow dim. One should neither take pride in one’s traces nor become stuck in what is constant. This may be called hidden illumination.

“Thus, the good person is the teacher of the person who is not good.”

Note: “Teacher” means someone to emulate, a model. The good person has left behind all attachments and defilements, and the mind is pure. Unobstructed by the teachings, they teach with perfect responsiveness. This is illustrated by water: when things come, it reflects them. What is reflected appears as an image, while that which reflects sees the image without intention.

A good person’s integrity and wisdom are such that they can serve as a teacher and model for those who are not good.

A good person avoids all wrongdoing, observes the laws and customary norms, does not encroach on others, and does not harm living things. Heaven and Earth cherish such a person, and the spirits protect them. They do not deliberately study the Dao, yet their conduct accords with it; they may not know the written rules, yet their heart accords with the law. They harm no living thing, and none harms them; they do no harm to others, and others do no harm to them. In all their actions and stillness, they are consistently blessed with good fortune. Those who do wrong admire this good fortune and should also be moved to become good. This is why a good person can serve as a teacher to those who are not good.

The Zuo Commentary offers the example of Zheng’s village school. The people of Zheng gathered there to discuss the conduct of their rulers. Zisi wanted to have the school destroyed. Zichan replied: “If we go there morning and evening to hear what people think is good or bad about our government—then we can put into practice what they approve of and correct what they dislike—they are our teachers. How could we destroy the school?” Trying to stop people from speaking is like trying to dam a river: if it breaks through, the harm is even greater. It is better to open channels and let the water flow. Zichan understood this. Confucius said he could not believe that Zichan was not humane. The Book of Documents says that one who can find a teacher in oneself is a sage.

“Teacher” means someone whose example can be followed. The Record of Learning says: “Be at ease in one’s studies and close to one’s teacher; take pleasure in one’s companions and trust in the Dao. Even after leaving one’s teacher and aides, one will not fall short. But if one conceals one’s learning and resents one’s teacher, it is hard to recognize its benefits.” A gentleman understands what makes teaching flourish and what causes it to decline; only then can he teach others. To study alone without companions leaves one isolated and poorly informed, so one must choose a teacher with care.

A gentleman understands which parts of learning are difficult or easy, and what is good or bad. Then he can explain widely and clearly, serve as a teacher, lead others, and rule as a sovereign. A teacher is the means by which one learns to be a sovereign. One who rules is not a minister. At the Grand Academy, even when receiving an imperial proclamation, students do not turn north to face the emperor, because they honor their teacher. Those who study well make their teacher’s work easy and achieve twice as much; those who study poorly exhaust their teacher, achieve only half as much, and then resent him. This passage describes the way the ancient kings served their teachers: when the king acted as a student, he did not turn north to face them.

This passage comes from the Expansive Commentary on the True Scripture of the Dao and Its Virtue. It discusses the standing of the “teacher” and how “good people” and “not good people” may serve as resources for one another. The explanation below follows the original text.

The Rites of Zhou describes how to govern the realm: the king faces south, while the teacher—known as the Venerable Father—stands to the east. Facing west, the teacher sets down the essentials of the Dao and instructs the king. This is called the principle of “the three honored relationships”: ruler, father, and teacher are held in equal regard. Though a teacher does not belong among the five degrees of mourning kinship, even those within those degrees must still treat a teacher with closeness and respect. This shows the great weight carried by the way of the teacher. How much more so for the Perfected One, whose mind is unstained by rules and unattached to things, responding to things like a mirror that reflects without intention: this is the true teacher of the Dao.

Good people are to be cherished by the state. During the Spring and Autumn period, Yangshe Zhi said, “I have heard that when Yu promoted good people, those who were not good went away.” The Book of Poetry says, “Careful and apprehensive, as if standing at the edge of a deep abyss, as if treading on thin ice.” This describes what it is like when a good person holds high office. In the sixteenth year of Duke Xuan’s reign, Jin defeated the Red Di. Shi Hui presented the captives to King Ding of Zhou, who bestowed ritual robes and the garments of a minister upon him, appointing him commander of the central army and Grand Tutor. Afterward, the bandits of Jin fled to Qin. Yangshe Zhi praised this, saying, “When a good person is above, there are no people in the state who rely on luck. When such people are numerous, it is the state’s misfortune. This is what is meant by having no good person.” Thus good people are truly a treasure of the state. They are more than merely “teachers.”

“The not good are resources for the good.”

Commentary: A teacher is someone to emulate; a resource is something that can be put to use. Good people can be followed as models, while those who are not good can be put to work.

Exposition: A resource is something one can make use of. Fire gives off heat, and cold and heat depend on it. One who hears the Dao and diligently puts it into practice must rely on a lineage teacher for guidance. Once one reveres and admires a teacher’s goodness, one should have the disciples take on the labor. In this way, even people who are not good can be put to use and directed by good people.

Interpretation: Good people can transform those who are not good through their good conduct; those who are not good admire them, submit to them, and serve them. The Analects says, “When there is work to be done, the disciples take care of it.” “Teacher” here refers to fathers, elder brothers, and instructors; disciples serve their teachers and sincerely follow their instruction. There are three honored relationships by which a person establishes themselves: serve parents with filial devotion, serve the ruler with loyalty, and serve the teacher with respect. One’s body, hair, and skin come from one’s parents; moral conduct, ritual, and music are passed on by one’s teacher; rank and emoluments are conferred by the ruler. Although one may speak of seeking instruction without a teacher when the Dao is present, the respectful etiquette of asking questions and seeking guidance already expresses reverence for the “three honored relationships.”

“Do not honor the teacher; do not cherish the resource.”

Commentary: The profound meaning of this chapter is to teach people to forget both. If one remains attached to teacher and resource, one has not yet reached the ultimate point.

Brief explanations of proper names and terms

• Venerable Father: An honorific for a teacher; here it refers to Taigong Wang (Jiang Ziya), who assisted King Cheng in the early Zhou dynasty.
• The principle of the three honored relationships: The ruler, father, and teacher are all held in respect as relationships essential to establishing oneself.
• The five degrees of mourning kinship: Categories of mourning attire that mark degrees of blood relationship. Teachers do not belong to these categories, yet ritual still accords them great respect.
• Yangshe Zhi and Shi Hui: Figures from the Spring and Autumn period in the state of Jin. After Shi Hui became commander of the central army and Grand Tutor, many bandits from Jin fled to Qin; this was cited as evidence that “when a good person is above,” the state is transformed.
• Ritual robes and the garments of a minister: Attire bestowed by the Zhou king, signifying Shi Hui’s appointment as commander and Grand Tutor.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Scriptural Passage

People today honor their teachers and elders so they can learn from and confirm things with one another. When the distinction between learning and its object has become empty, there is naturally nothing left to honor. They care for those who receive their teachings—the disciples and their innate capacities—so they can support one another in teaching. When teaching is understood beyond the need for teaching, there is no need to make a deliberate effort to care for disciples. When both esteem and care are forgotten, the Dao naturally transforms and nurtures all things.

Although ordinary people think this is great confusion, those who follow the Dao call it the essential mystery.

Commentary

Forgetting both teacher and disciple is what is called profound De. Ordinary people do not understand this and think it is great confusion. Viewed from the Dao, it is the essential mystery.

Explanatory Notes

At the first stage of practice, learning and the teacher are both still present. One has not yet gone beyond words and instruction, so one esteems and cares for teachers and disciples. But once one understands the path of practice, there is nothing left to learn. The names “teacher” and “disciple” disappear, and the ideas of esteem and care disappear as well.

Explanation

Practitioners at the first stage are those who awaken from ordinary life, turn toward the true path, leave behind worldly ways and place their trust in the Dao, and enter the gate of practice for the first time. This is called the first stage. The Scripture of the Original Beginning (Benji Jing) says: “Those who begin to practice learning first cultivate ten things as steps on a ladder. Just as a person climbs from the first rung to the second and then onward to the top, those who ascend the steps must first practice these ten methods before they can enter deeply into right contemplation.”

First, practitioners at the first stage begin with a wholesome aspiration. With a desire to pursue the path, they are able to advance.

Second, they draw close to wholesome friends, who guide their minds toward deep faith in the true path.

Third, they seek out an enlightened teacher. The teacher possesses wondrous methods, can explain them widely, and shows them the essential techniques.

Fourth, after hearing the true teachings, they are able to receive, read, and recite them.

Fifth, they are able to leave home, devote themselves to humility and gentleness, permanently cut off conditioned activity, and free themselves from every bond.

Sixth, they receive the true precepts and use them to guard their body, speech, and mind.

Seventh, they withdraw to secluded mountain forests and live alone, seeking to escape the clamor of the world and cultivate a resolve for stillness.

Eighth, they should remember that the Great Dao is the true sovereign of the Dharma, able to ferry living beings across the sea of birth and death, like a boatman rescuing those who are drowning.

Ninth, they should remember that the teachings in the scriptures are a wondrous medicine: they can show living beings the remedies for their afflictions.

Tenth, they should remember that the teacher of the Dharma is their true parent, able to give birth to their Dharma body and sustain their life of wisdom.

These ten methods form the causes for attaining the first stage. Next come the methods of the Lesser Vehicle, which cultivate gentleness and restraint; then the methods of the Middle Vehicle, which advance one’s practice; and finally the methods of contemplation and practice of the Great Vehicle. Because of these teachings, one esteems and cares for teachers and disciples. A teacher is like a father: without a teacher, I could not attain the Dao. Therefore, one should follow the teacher, whether near or far, and keep the teacher constantly before the mind’s eye.

Cultivation requires focused moments in which no stray thoughts intrude. At first one cannot do without a master’s guidance; without a master, it is hard to learn the Dao and attain immortality. When one truly understands that all names and forms one has learned are empty, and that the Dao’s various skillful means were never bound to fixed words in the first place, one also grasps that the great Dao values even letting go of “cherishing” and “holding dear,” and thus enters the gate of mystery and reaches a real, constant state.

The commentary text says: This chapter sets forth the main aim of teaching—gradually releasing attachment. Practice has gradual and sudden paths and different levels, but in the end all dharmas return to emptiness. The earlier passage on honoring and valuing the master explains the path of progress in study; the later passage on not valuing and not loving guides one toward the gate of realization. One respects the master because the idea of “learning” still remains; when that idea is released, nothing is left to hold precious. One reveres and loves the master because the idea of “teaching” still remains; when even teaching can be released, one no longer clings to the master’s name and form. It is like fish in rivers, lakes, and seas—they need not moisten one another with breath. At first hearing, ordinary people find this hard to accept; if they cling to the name and form of learning and stay at the level of doctrine, they take it for great delusion. Hence Laozi weighs the matter and says: “Ordinary people, though they hear these words, think them utterly baffling; from the Dao’s perspective, this is precisely what is essential and subtle.”

The expository commentary says: The master–disciple bond embodies mutual dependence. Jade must be carved before it becomes a vessel; a person must be guided by a master to awaken to the great Dao. As far as teaching goes, honoring and revering the master is the norm people are taught to follow; generations have treated it as canonical—it is not like treating someone unworthy of respect, using the master only as a temporary tool for learning. Therefore the Son of Heaven sacrifices to the former master on the upper ding day, and the crown prince in the Grand Academy also pays homage to the former master—all to honor the lineage of the Dao and establish teaching.

Yet from the perspective of thorough understanding, in the large sense one must forget Heaven and Earth; regarding oneself, one must forget one’s own body. When thing and self are both forgotten, how could there still be a distinction of master and disciple? This is like the story of Nieque asking Beiyi about the Dao. Beiyi told him: “Straighten your body, unify your gaze, and the harmony of Heaven will come. Gather your mind and make it one, and spirit will come to dwell; De will become your beauty, and the Dao your dwelling. Let your eyes be clear like a newborn calf—do not ask why it is so.” Before he finished speaking, Nieque fell asleep. Beiyi was very pleased, sang, and left, saying: “The body like withered wood, the mind like dead ashes—this is true knowing, no longer sustaining oneself with old views; dim and deep, without scheming, one cannot plan with him. What kind of person is he?” The point is that Nieque at first followed the transformations of the ten thousand things, but in the end entered a realm of solitary transformation.

At that point Nieque had forgotten even his own body and Heaven and Earth—how could he still fix on his master alone? The principle of honor and reverence between master and disciple is fully penetrated only here. As for applying this principle to governing the state, the commentary text goes on to explain further.

Establish Virtue within oneself rather than displaying benevolence through things. Ordinary people put this into practice every day without realizing it. Thus, there is no need to rely on a teacher’s lineage or to revere “cherishing the precious”; this accords with the ancient Way of “forgetting words.” At first, people cannot grasp it and are deeply bewildered. Once they do, they recognize it as the most essential and subtle teaching.

“Moistening one another with foam” comes from “The Revolution of Heaven” in the Zhuangzi; it is Laozi’s reply to Confucius.