《道德真經廣聖義》Vol. 35

Extensive Commentary on the True Classic of the Dao and De, Scroll Thirty-Four: Commentary on Chapter 43

Chapter overview

This chapter follows directly from the previous one: people who act with force and arrogance often meet an untimely end. Here, it explains that a person’s original nature is inherently supremely soft. Turning away from it and relying only on force leads to extreme hardness and ruin. The passage that follows sets out the way of Wuwei (non-action) and softness, which is of greatest benefit to all beings.

Scripture

The supremely soft in the world can ride over and move through the supremely hard in the world.

Note

The “supremely soft” in the world refers to a person’s true nature, the original, pure nature. When people rush about and toil in the world, become stained by the Six Dusts, and are filled with desire, they turn into the “supremely hard” in the world.

Commentary

A person’s true nature is inherently clear and pure, and the Qi within the body is harmonious; this is what makes it supremely soft. But when people rush about amid desires, become stained by worldly things, and are lured by sights and sounds, their true nature becomes dispersed, and they turn into the supremely hard.

Interpretation

The Dao is supremely soft, and nothing lies outside its reach. It runs through the myriad kinds of beings and flows into all forms. Those who attain it live; those who lose it die.

Cultivate the nature of the Dao and preserve your true nature, and life will be safeguarded. You will embody softness and weakness, able to ride over the supremely hard.

When Qi disperses and the Dao is lost, a person withers and grows rigid, bringing ruin upon themselves.

The same holds for governing a state. When the Dao is followed, the people return to benevolence, carrying their children on their backs. When it is not followed, disaster rises within the walls of the court.

“Becoming stained by worldly dust” refers to the process by which the Six Roots—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—depend on the Six Consciousnesses; the Six Consciousnesses follow the Six Feelings; and the Six Feelings give rise to the Six Desires. The Six Desires are the Six Dusts; the Six Dusts are the Six Stains; and the Six Stains are the Six Entrances. They arise from the roots and stain to varying degrees, so they must all be gradually restrained through cultivation.

The work of cultivating the person is as follows: let the eyes turn away from the five colors, the ears from the five sounds, the nose from the five fragrances, the mouth from the five flavors, the body from the five kinds of touch, and the mind from the five kinds of entanglement.

When the Six Dusts are purified, worldly gains can no longer move you, and sights and sounds can no longer lure you. You will naturally return to softness and weakness, in harmony with the Dao of supreme softness.

Plain-Language Interpretation

The Main Point of the Scripture

How could those who follow the Dao still suffer the trouble of striving to prove themselves stronger or better than others?

“Nonbeing” can enter the “unbroken.”

Commentary

“Nonbeing” means realizing that all appearances are inherently without substantial existence. Through this realization, one returns to one’s original nature and becomes one with the Dao, thereby entering the state of the “unbroken.” The “unbroken” is the Dao; to “enter” it means to become one with the Dao. Calling the Dao “unbroken” means that its nature is clear, empty, and still, a seamless whole without gaps or divisions.

Explanation of the Principle

Heaven and earth have form and distinct positions; the clear and turbid differ. Yin and Yang are distinct; night and day differ. The cycles of Qi change, and the four seasons differ. Only the Dao embraces heaven and earth in its vastness, permeates Yin and Yang in its subtlety, and governs the four seasons and the myriad things. It is everywhere and exists at all times, so it is said to have “no gaps.”

If people can gather their spirit and contemplate the subtle, returning to unity, then when they appear they are human, and when they fade they become Qi. United with the Dao, they endure without perishing. Riding the harmonious flow of “nonbeing” into the Dao of the “unbroken,” how could they be ruled by the turning of the seasons or confined by the limits of life and death?

“Thus I know the benefit of Wuwei”

Note

“Wuwei” means remaining unstained by the world of dust and clinging to nothing in the heart. The “unbroken” is the Dao’s nature: clear and empty, its wondrous substance a seamless whole without gaps. When desirable things do not disturb us, and both mind and surroundings are clear and free of attachment, the mind joins with the Dao and enters the unbroken. Thus the sage says: I have seen that when body and mind are clear and still, they can unite with the Dao. From this I know that the teachings of “doing” are less beneficial than Wuwei.

Commentary

“I” is how the Venerable Lord, Laozi, refers to himself. This chapter also serves as a warning to rulers to govern the world through Wuwei. The Venerable Lord says: I see that the original nature of living beings is gentle and yielding. But when they race and compete, they become forceful and rigid. If the mind and its surroundings can be made clear, with nothing to cling to, then they will unite with the Dao. We can therefore see that clarity, stillness, and Wuwei benefit people both in self-cultivation and in governing the country. From this it follows that teachings based on “doing” are less beneficial than Wuwei.

Meaning

The Venerable Lord teaches that clarity and stillness are the means, and Wuwei is the guiding principle: clarity and stillness bring peace to the country and security to the body; Wuwei brings the Dao to completion and transforms people. The Dao and De act through Wuwei: through them, heaven and earth take shape, the myriad transformations unfold, and the myriad things come into being. Heaven and earth act through Wuwei: through them, the four seasons turn, the six currents of Qi harmonize, and the eight winds blow. The sage empties the mind to grasp the Dao and De, stills the Qi to preserve and nourish the Shen, and cultivates the spirit by diminishing selfishness and desire.

By “listening” without clinging to what has sound, and by “looking” without lingering over what has form, one observes the changes of Heaven and Earth and apprehends the natural state of the myriad things. From this, one understands that deliberate action only brings disorder, while governing through Wuwei (non-action) accords with principle. The nature of what is supremely soft is Wuwei; the troubles of what is supremely hard arise from frantic striving and competition. Put to rest the selfish desires stirred by such striving, and return to softness and Wuwei: teach the world in this way, and the path of great benefit will spread far and wide. Let the mind’s state shine clear, mysterious and unfathomable; look inward to the one mind, whose subtle workings are inexhaustible; outwardly, forget the myriad forms. In governing the state, forget the traces of governance; in cultivating oneself, forget one’s attachment to self-cultivation. Enter deeply into emptiness and merge wholly with the Dao (the Way). This is what is meant by inward illumination and inner clarity.

“Few in the world can match the teaching without words and the benefit of Wuwei.”

The commentary says: Among the world’s many kinds of teaching, few can compare with this one.

The subcommentary says: The supreme Dao is inherently without words, yet all things come to life through it; the sage is inherently without action, yet through this, transformation and nurture become pure. Teaching does not require words to be established first. Few in the world can match the teaching of Wuwei. It also says: Unless one is a ruler who embodies the Dao, no one can match it; hence the term “rare.”

The explanatory note says: When a ruler governs the world through Wuwei, the people transform themselves naturally. What need is there for many words? The subtle perfection of Wuwei is contained within Dao and De (Virtue/Power), governed by benevolence and righteousness, aligned with ritual and music, and regulated by trustworthiness and wisdom. It embraces the myriad practices and encompasses Heaven and Earth, the two great powers. It is boundless in its vastness and without gaps in its finest detail; still and profound, mysterious and far-reaching, it blends with the Dao. This is the perfection of Wuwei.

The Han Shu records the doctrines of the Nine Schools. The Daoists, it says, make people’s spirit whole and their actions accord with the formless, while providing for all things. Their methods follow Yin-Yang in its broadest order, adapt as times change, and respond to things as they transform. They uphold purity and emptiness, and sustain themselves through humility and weakness. This is the art by which emperors rule from the south-facing throne. The Confucians arose from the office of the Minister of Education. They assist the ruler in clarifying moral instruction, trace their tradition to Yao and Shun, take Kings Wen and Wu as models, and transmit the teachings of Confucius. They regard their way as supreme, and this is their strength. Yet they may lose sight of subtle truths and become one-sided; they may also shift with the times, depart from the root of the Way, and seek popular approval through empty display. These are the failings of later, misguided Confucians. The School of Names arose from the office in charge of ritual: when ranks and titles differ, the prescribed rites differ as well. Confucius said, “If anything must be done first, it is to rectify names”—

Modern Interpretation

As for their strengths, when they go astray and press too hard, they can become fixated on individual words, splitting hairs and resorting to sophistry.

A ruler must be especially cautious with ranks and titles, and with ceremonial objects that symbolize authority. As the ancients said, ranks and ceremonial objects alone must never be lent out carelessly.

The School of Diplomacy, or Vertical and Horizontal Alliances, probably arose from the officials who managed foreign relations and served as envoys. Confucius said that an envoy sent to the four quarters should be able to handle affairs on their own. He also spoke of “the envoy, the envoy,” meaning that one must weigh the circumstances and adapt to each situation. Their strength was to carry out the mission they had been given without rigidly clinging to written rules, and to adapt when needed. When they went astray, they prized schemes and deception, casting trustworthiness aside.

The Eclectic School probably arose from officials who debated public affairs. It brought together Confucian and Mohist ideas while also drawing on the Schools of Names and Law. Its strength was this breadth of learning. When it spread without restraint, however, it left people at a loss, with nowhere to turn.

The School of Agriculture probably arose from officials responsible for farming. By sowing the Five Grains, they provided people with food and clothing. In the eight matters of government listed in the Great Plan (Hongfan), food comes first. This was their strength. When their views became narrow and rigid, they even insisted that gentlemen should go and plow fields alongside farmers.

The School of Minor Talks probably arose from the “petty officials” (baiguan). The word bai means millet: rulers established these posts to learn about local customs by collecting talk from the streets and lanes. Confucius said that although these teachings were minor, they could still be worth observing, but he feared that pursuing them too far would lead to stagnation. This also points to the practice of gathering the words of unschooled people from the countryside.

The Mohist School arose from those who guarded the ancestral temple. They lived in thatched huts with roughly hewn rafters, advocated impartial care, and selected worthy men for office. The person most respected was chosen as their leader.

The School of Yin-Yang probably arose from the officials who observed the heavens. Its teachings on the Five Phases often led people to become constrained by taboos and prohibitions.

The School of War arose from the office of the Minister of War. It used force to punish wrongdoing and uphold the civil virtues, supported the weak and attacked the benighted, checked disorder and plots, and brought peace to the four quarters. This was the forceful aspect of military power. Yet the character for “martial” is made up of “stop” and “weapons”: martial virtue has seven qualities and serves civil governance in bringing order to the world. The ways of civil and military rule must not be abandoned.

The Hundred Schools—the various masters—wrote and taught their own ideas beyond the Six Classics and the official histories. Since the Zhou, more than a hundred people have set forth principles and written books; they were all called “Masters.” The word “master” was originally a general title for men. Since they did not presume to rank themselves alongside the Six Classics, they were all categorized as masters. Their works took the form of discussions, records, or books. Some were known by their family names; others took titles associated with their time. These included the Master Yu, Master Zeng, Master Yan, Master Meng, Master Guan, Master Xun, Master Lu Lian, Master Lie, Master Zhuang, Master Gengsang, Master Wangsun, Master Yin Wen, Gongsun Nizi, the Spring and Autumn Annals of Lü Buwei, Master Deng Xi, and Master Guigu, as well as Lu Jia, Chao Cuo, Jia Yi, Huan Tan, Cui Shi, Zhousheng, Liezi, Wei Lang, Ren Xia, Pei Xuan, Su Yan, and Fu Xuan. The final name, Tang, may be a person’s name or a fragment of the text.

Plain-Language Interpretation

The scholars listed above—such as Pang, Qin Jing, Ruan Wu, Shang Jun, Lu Yun, Mouzi, Fu Lang, Sun Wu, and Si Shengzhi—sometimes adopted other names. Their works included The Master Zisi, The Grand Duke, The Golden Coffer, The Huainanzi, Discourses on Salt and Iron, Garden of Persuasions, New Prefaces, Discourses on Balance, Master Qianfu, A Comprehensive Account of Customs, Wenzi, Master Shen’s Reflections, Writings on Plain Speech, A Model Treatise, A Discourse on Sincerity, The Central Treatise, Treatise on the Ten Thousand Affairs, The Classic of Loyalty, Forest of Ideas, Record of Daoist Sayings, Record of Seasonal Customs, Record of the Elders, Instructions on the Law, The Five Teachings, Collected Sayings of Woodcutters, Silent Records, The Corrected Book, A Proper Discourse, Treatise on the Nature of Things, Han Feizi, The Record of Character and Conduct, The Record of Success and Failure, A General Treatise, The Correct Section, The Scholar’s Latitude and Longitude, Collected Sayings, Discourses on the States, The Lost Book of Yue, The Master Who Embraces Simplicity, Essentials for the Age, New Discourses, Analytical Sayings, Seeking the Hidden, Master Changle, The Family Sayings, The Great Mystery Classic, Dialects, Model Sayings, Records of the Grove, Records of Searching for the Spirits, Records of the Natural World, Instructions on Righteousness, The Classic of Mountains and Seas, The Book of Waterways, Records of the Great Wilderness, Records of the Ten Isles, Records of Collected Remnants, The Materia Medica, The Classic of Assessing Oxen, The Classic of Assessing Horses, The Classic of Assessing Cranes, The Zhou Gnomon, The Manual of Bamboo, The Art of War by Sunzi, The Art of War by Sima, Sunzi’s Mathematical Classic, Records of the Duke of Yellow Stone, The Classic of Assessing Shells, The Techniques of Wanbi, and others. All belong to this same category.

Some probed the profound meanings of the mysterious classics; some studied Confucian books of ritual; some specialized in law, calendrical systems, and astronomy; some relied on Yin-Yang correspondences and celestial patterns; some clung to names, laws, and penal doctrines; and some distilled strategic methods and expedient changes. Each school developed its own strengths and illuminated the others’ ideas. Yet within learning grounded in deliberate action, their work sometimes advanced and sometimes paused, sometimes expanded and sometimes contracted. Each remained confined to its own corner, and few could bring the different approaches together into a coherent whole. Judged by this standard, they could not approach the Dao of Wuwei (non-action).

Only a ruler who embodies the Dao, a sovereign of the highest De (Virtue/Power), can have a will free of deliberation and a spirit free of thought; act as though without form and rest as though nonexistent; unite with the Dao and open into vast understanding. Only such a ruler can follow in the footsteps of Xuanyuan, the primal origin revered by Daoists, and draw near to Great Purity, the Dao’s utmost purity and clarity.

Chapter Forty-Four: “Which Is Dearer, Fame or the Self?” (Commentary: The previous chapter explained how to correct one’s nature through softness. This chapter explains how attachment to fame and possessions brings trouble. The first three clauses pose the question; the next two give a detailed answer and explain the source of the trouble; the concluding section, beginning with “Knowing contentment,” urges people to keep to their proper limits so they may endure.)

Meaning: Possessions are what sustain the body; fame is what adorns one’s cultivation of the self. Becoming attached to possessions brings the danger of burning up one’s body; becoming absorbed in fame brings the disaster of damaging one’s life.

Plain-Language Interpretation

General Overview

Clinging to wealth and being fixated on fame are the greatest calamities. Lao Jun took pity on people, who were so absorbed in these things that they could not see where their troubles came from. He therefore used three rhetorical questions to awaken them. The first two raise the questions; the final one answers them with the good way of contentment, helping people put an end to their craving for fame and love of wealth. The care the sages show for all beings could hardly go further.

“Fame and the body—which is dearer?”

Commentary: Fame is merely an accessory to what is real. People in the world chase fame and lose their lives. The question “Which is dearer?” is meant to teach people to let go of status and achievement and preserve their true nature.

Explanation: This compares “fame” with “the body.” “Which” means “which one?” The question asks in detail: boasting of one’s achievements and tending to one’s nature and life are different pursuits. Which is closer to the way of preserving life and keeping the whole body safe?

Meaning: The sage pities worldly scholars who covet fame and achievement: fame comes first, while the body is put in danger. Who can abandon fame, cultivate the Dao, leave worldly conventions behind, and preserve the body whole? Boyi died for benevolence; Nie Zheng for righteousness; Weisheng for trustworthiness; Bigan for wisdom; Jing Ke for courage; Long Feng for remonstrance; Wu Zixu for loyalty; and Jie Zitui in anger. Their names became famous, but they lost their lives. Their bodies and bones were scattered; they were disfigured and disemboweled, burned or drowned, stabbed with swords or had their eyes gouged out. They brought about their own destruction, yet failed to heed the Confucian teaching to “return [the body] whole.” Pursuing an empty reputation takes one far from the Dao.

“The body and possessions—which is more valuable?”

Commentary: Pursuing profit and seeking wealth can bring wealth but cost a person their life. The question “Which is more valuable?” is meant to teach people to cast away jade and shatter pearls, preserving the harmony of their original nature.

Explanation: “More” here means “more precious.” The body and possessions are different things—which is more valuable? The point is to help people realize that the body matters more than possessions.

Meaning: Lao Jun points out that people put wealth and possessions first: accumulate possessions, and the body is burdened with worry; amass wealth, and calamity follows. Who can give away wealth to avoid harm, delight in the Dao, and be content with poverty? Qing Feng died because of his wealth; Si Chuan because of extravagance; Duke Jian of Qi because of greed; and Rong Yigong because of profit. In the “Ultimate Joy” chapter of the Zhuangzi, it says that what people in the world prize is wealth, status, longevity, and goodness, while what they delight in is fine food, clothing, music, and beauty—all are external things pursued at the expense of the self.

Note: The commentary in Guangsheng’s explanation uses historical figures who “died for fame” or “died for possessions” as cautionary examples, in keeping with the Daode Jing’s teaching that “contentment avoids disgrace.” This plain-language version leaves out some of the names; the anecdotes behind each figure can be supplied if needed.

What the world pursues is wealth and status; what it rejects is poverty, low standing, short life, and ugliness. What it suffers from is hunger, cold, worry, danger, and fear.

The wealthy labor desperately, amassing riches they cannot use up, while their bodies are depleted in the process. Those of high status toil day and night, always feeling they have not done enough; their bodies, too, are neglected and worn down. People who live in grand houses and accumulate great estates often find their reputations ruined and suffer calamity and disgrace. Yet they do not understand that the “accumulating wealth and multiplying troubles” mocked by those who see clearly is far removed from preserving life and reaching its full span.

Casting away jade and smashing pearls (an idea from the “Rifling Trunks” chapter of the Zhuangzi): When the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold; when sagacity and wisdom arise, great thieves follow. If sagacity and wisdom are discarded and thieves left unchecked, the world can instead be brought to order. When rivers run dry, valleys are emptied; when hills are leveled, springs fill up. When sages die, great thieves do not arise; cut off sagacity and cast away wisdom, and great thieves will cease. Cast away jade and smash pearls, and petty thieves will not arise either. The point is that sagacity and wisdom become tools for thieves, while pearls and jade stir their greed. Discard them and leave them unused, and treachery and theft will naturally subside.

Which is more harmful: gain or loss? (Which does more harm to the body: gaining or losing fame and wealth?)

Commentary

Question: Which does more harm to one’s person: gaining fame and wealth, or losing them?

Exegesis

This is a general question about the two preceding lines: which is truly harmful, gaining fame and wealth or losing them?

If one greedily seeks fame and wealth, one will lose one’s life; to preserve oneself, one must lose—or relinquish—fame and wealth. The difference is clear: one can know that taking wisdom as an illness is harmful, but those who are deluded often fail to see it at first. The text therefore goes on to answer in detail.

The line “Which is more harmful: gain or loss?” is asked by the Great Sage in expounding the scripture to set the world right and show that the body is weighty, while fame and wealth are light. The question uses the contrast of weight and lightness; the answer follows in detail. Repeated comparisons may still leave the deluded bewildered.

Meaning

The Great Sage’s purpose in teaching is to save people and help them understand that the body is more precious than fame and wealth, while fame and wealth are less precious than the body. The question is framed in terms of what is weighty and what is light; a detailed answer follows. Even repeated comparisons may not help the deluded see their way through.

Therefore, excessive attachment brings great expenditure; storing up too much brings heavy loss.

Commentary: Excessive attachment to fame must exhaust the mind and spirit—is this not a great expenditure? Hoarding goods must burden the body—is this not a heavy loss?

Exegesis:

These two lines give the general answer to the earlier question.

“Excessive attachment brings great expenditure” answers the question, “Which is dearer, fame or the body?” Expenditure means depletion; dear means cherished. Excessive attachment to fame twists one’s nature and exhausts the mind and spirit. The more fiercely one cherishes it, the greater the depletion.

“Storing up too much brings heavy loss” answers the question, “Which is more important, the body or wealth?” The more goods one hoards, the greater the loss. The fate of those harmed for carrying jade, the robbing of tombs for books and writings, and the calamity that comes from carrying pearls all serve as warnings: wealth invites loss.

Brief explanations of names and terms: “Casting away jade and smashing pearls” and “cutting off sagacity and casting away wisdom” come from the “Rifling Trunks” chapter of the Zhuangzi. The chapter advocates abandoning sagacity, wisdom, and precious jewels to reduce both great and petty theft; here, they illustrate how fame, wealth, and sagacity can themselves become sources of calamity. “Preserving life and reaching its full span” means safeguarding one’s life and living it to completion. “Rifling Trunks” is the title of a chapter of the Zhuangzi, which discusses theft and the harms of sagacity.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Explanation of the principle: Constantly chasing an empty reputation harms you, while hoarding wealth can put both your possessions and your life beyond your protection. This point has already been discussed.

The Old Man of the Riverbank says: while alive, people pile up possessions in their storehouses; after death, they bury them in their tombs. In life, they fear being robbed; after death, they risk having their tombs plundered.

The story of “carrying jade and thereby incurring guilt” (hiding jade and inviting disaster) appears in the tenth year of Duke Huan in the Spring and Autumn Annals. Yu Shu, the younger brother of the Duke of Yu, owned a piece of jade. The duke wanted it, but Yu Shu refused. Later, Yu Shu regretted this and recalled an old saying: “A commoner may be innocent, but carrying jade makes him guilty.” An ordinary person may have done nothing wrong, yet a treasure in his possession brings trouble upon him. So Yu Shu offered the jade. The Duke of Yu then demanded his sword as well. Yu Shu said, “You are insatiable. If you go too far in your greed, you will bring harm upon me. I fear you will kill me.” He then raised troops against the duke, who fled to Hongchi.

The episode of the Confucians robbing a tomb comes from “Outside Things” in the Zhuangzi. Confucians use the Book of Songs and the Rites to rob a tomb. The senior Confucian directs the others from beside the grave: “It’s getting light in the east. What should we do?” The junior Confucian replies: “The burial robe is still fastened, and the dead man has a pearl in his mouth. The Book of Songs says, ‘Green wheat grows on the hillside. If you gave nothing while alive, why have a pearl in your mouth after death?’” The senior Confucian says: “Hold the hair firmly and support the jaw. Gently pry open the cheeks with a gold hammer, and don’t damage the pearl in his mouth.” The senior and junior Confucians are characters through whom Zhuangzi satirizes Confucianism. “It’s getting light in the east” means dawn is approaching. Wheat should be planted in low fields, not on hillsides; planting it there is out of place. Likewise, keeping a pearl in one’s mouth after death despite having given nothing to others in life is unreasonable. So being robbed after death is only to be expected. The Book of Songs, with its gentleness, and the Rites, with their solemn respect, were originally the rules by which the ancient kings governed the world. Yet here they are used to rob tombs, and Confucians are called thieves. Such things have indeed happened.

Scripture: Knowing contentment prevents disgrace; knowing when to stop prevents danger. This allows one to endure for a long time.

Commentary: Those who know contentment do not love things excessively; those who know when to stop do not hoard too much. Free of disgrace and danger, they can endure for a long time.

Exegesis: “Disgrace” means damage to one’s reputation or being brought to harm; “danger” means peril or ruin. Not chasing an empty reputation is knowing contentment; not accumulating more and more wealth is knowing when to stop. With contentment, one’s reputation matches one’s actual worth, and there is no burden of excess. Knowing when to stop means keeping no great stores of wealth and avoiding the harm caused by greed. Only by avoiding disgrace and danger can one preserve oneself for a long time and follow the Dao for a long time.

Meaning: People receive Qi from the Great Dao, the radiance of the Three Origins, and a gift from the Nine Heavens; their lifespans are set. Those who cultivate the Dao can extend their lives by accumulating merit, but those who go too far and bear excessive burdens are more likely to die young. If one greedily pursues a reputation beyond one’s worth, disgrace follows. If one greedily pursues wealth without knowing when to stop, danger follows. Only by knowing contentment and when to stop can one endure for a long time.

This scripture passage primarily teaches that excessive pursuit of wealth and fame invites calamity. Laozi admonishes people to practice contentment and know their limits, eliminating covetous desires to avoid misfortune and prolong life.

The text first explains that hoarding rare, hard-to-obtain treasures inevitably invites disaster—bringing shame in mild cases and threatening one's very life in severe ones. Such self-inflicted misfortunes are truly lamentable. Laozi warns people to abandon the fault of chasing empty fame and eradicate greedy thoughts. Only by practicing contentment, knowing limits, and being free from desire can one avoid life-shortening calamities, create conditions for longevity, and attain lasting peace.

The passage then discusses the principle that "Great perfection seems incomplete." Those who achieve true greatness (rulers with supreme virtue [De] and masters who embody the Dao) act with humility—appearing deficient while actually being profoundly rich within. They unite with heaven and earth, resonate with yin-yang, yet never flaunt their accomplishments, instead seeming as if lacking something. Outsiders only see their outward clumsiness, unaware of their inner wisdom. Restraining argumentative impulses, they understand the essence of stillness, thus becoming models for all under heaven.

The scripture elaborates: Those who reach great perfection through cultivation maintain complete virtue yet constant humility, as if deficient. Thus their talents never exhaust. Similarly, rulers who attain the highest moral refinement follow this way—emulating heaven and earth's generative power and the sun-moon's illuminating virtue. Though achieving greatness, they remain humble, thereby functioning without end.

Finally, it states: Rulers who use the great Dao [Dao] to transform all beings unite with the Dao; advanced practitioners who use the Dao for self-cultivation merge with it completely. Like heaven-earth and sun-moon operating naturally, the Dao never boasts of its achievements. When rulers emulate the Dao in governing, people follow spontaneously without the ruler claiming merit—this is the manifestation of unity with the Dao.

As stated above about the meaning of “sameness”: Those who cultivate the Way complete their work and embody Virtue, yet do not boast of their abilities. As a result, the Way becomes all the more evident. They may appear to be lacking, but in truth they have attained complete fulfillment. In governing a state, the sages’ principles endure; in cultivating oneself, one’s nature and body attain great harmony without end. Though this may seem like “lack,” it never comes to exhaustion.

“Great fullness seems empty; its use is inexhaustible.”

Note: Though rank and position are full, one remains humble and empty within. Frugality does not diminish one’s resources, so their use never runs dry.

Commentary: “Empty” means unfilled; “exhausted” means used up. This line says that although the sage’s rank and position are abundant, the sage remains modest and frugal, never displaying fullness, and so seems empty. One is “as if possessing nothing, as if full yet empty”; thus one’s resources can be used without limit and never run short.

Meaning: Because one does not boast of what one has, fullness appears like emptiness. Because one does not rely on being full, one’s resources can be used without shortage. The ruler has Virtue to spare, and the people have wealth to spare; their influence flows through the Six Directions and extends freely to the Four Extremes. In governing, the people grow wealthy of their own accord; in self-cultivation, Virtue fills out of its own accord. Its use has no bounds—how could it ever be exhausted or depleted?

“Great straightness seems crooked.”

Note: One is upright without being overbearing, and so seems bent.

Commentary: “Straight” means upright; “bent” means crooked. The first four lines speak of both substance and function, while the next three present only “substance,” without describing “function”; the wording is abbreviated, but the meaning can be understood by analogy. Keeping oneself pure while condemning others as sullied, or promoting the upright and setting aside the crooked, is a lesser kind of straightness. Not clinging to one’s own views to argue over right and wrong, and not correcting oneself in order to force others into line, is great straightness. One bends in accordance with what is fitting for each thing, hence “seems crooked.” The Note’s phrase “upright without being overbearing” comes from the text of the scripture in this volume.

Meaning: The Dao harmonizes Qi and accords with things, allowing them to arise and grow of themselves. The ruler transforms people through the Great Dao, and they become upright of their own accord. The superior person embodies the Dao and moves along with things; things respond to this harmony, and each follows its own straight course. This straightness is broad enough to encompass the myriad differences, so it may be called great. This transformation accords with things, forgets its own merit, and does not dominate; so it may be called “seeming crooked.” The phrase “promote the upright and set aside the crooked” comes from “Conducting Government” in the Analects. Duke Ai of Lu asked Confucius, “How can I make the people submit?” Confucius replied, “Promote the upright and place them above the crooked, and the people will submit; promote the crooked and place them above the upright, and the people will not submit.” Duke Ai was ruler of Lu, named Yu and posthumously titled Ai. At the time, he had lost Virtue and the people would not submit, so he asked Confucius how to win their obedience. “Upright” refers to people of integrity; “place” means to appoint; “crooked” refers to people who are morally bent.

A discussion of employing people

When upright people are appointed to office, crooked and corrupt people are cast aside, and the people will trust their ruler’s De (Virtue/Power). But if the corrupt are appointed and the upright rejected, the people will not trust him. Here Confucius criticizes Duke Ai of Lu for dismissing worthy people and appointing the corrupt, hoping he will reform and govern by the proper way.

“Straight, yet not straining” (the text of Chapter 21)

Great skill seems clumsy

Commentary: Skill does not go beyond its proper bounds, so it appears clumsy.

Explanatory note: Taking pride in the craft of painting and showing off the mastery of compass and carpenter’s square is merely small skill. Great skill lies in using each material according to its nature, bringing things to completion, and allowing everything to serve its proper purpose. It makes no cuts and leaves its work unseen, so it seems plain and clumsy. Zhuangzi says that Nature “carves and shapes the myriad forms without being skillful.”

Meaning: The great transformation of Heaven and Earth, the great shaping power of Yin-Yang, breathes out the myriad forms without displaying its workings. A ruler sits composed and teaches by example, allowing the people of every region to use their abilities fully and all things to serve their purposes. Round, square, curved, and straight forms each find their proper place; the noble and humble, the worthy and foolish, each contribute their strength. This is called great skill. Heaven and Earth act without ruling, Yin-Yang gives without possessing, and the ruler transforms without relying on his own effort. That is why it seems clumsy.

The craft of painting: In the Analects, “Painting comes after the plain ground.” First, the design is painted in five colors; when all the colors are in place, white pigment is used to mark the boundaries and bring out the pattern. This is the craft of painting.

Compass and carpenter’s square: In “The Horse’s Hooves” chapter of the Zhuangzi, a potter says he is skilled at shaping clay, making round things conform to the compass and square things to the carpenter’s square. A carpenter says he is skilled at shaping wood, making curved pieces fit the hook and straight pieces the line. Yet clay and wood are not naturally required to conform to these tools, though people have praised such skill for generations. This means their true nature has been lost; it is only small skill. The passage about Nature carving and shaping the myriad forms appears in “The Great Ancestral Teacher” chapter of the Zhuangzi. Yierzi asks Xu You if he may travel to the outskirts of the Way. Xu You replies: “My teacher cuts and shapes the myriad things without acting from a sense of righteousness, and bestows benefits on them all without acting from a sense of benevolence.”

Plain-Language Interpretation

On the “Way of Nature”

It can endure through countless generations without claiming to be benevolent; it predates high antiquity without claiming to be old. It covers and supports Heaven and Earth, and carves the myriad forms without claiming to be skillful. This is what it roams within. The one called “my teacher” is the Way of Nature: things come to be of themselves, without intention. What Zhuangzi took as his model, and what I take as my model, is simply roaming within Nature.

Great Disputation Seems Like Stammering

Note: It does not embellish “small talk” (trivial speech), so it seems slow of speech.

Commentary: “Joining analogies,” “ornamenting words,” “tying knots,” and “inserting phrases” are forms of petty disputation. “Teaching without words, distinguishing the myriad things, and probing principle to the limit and fulfilling one’s nature” are forms of great disputation. The highest words cast off verbal expression and make no effort to praise or blame; they are like stammering, halting speech.

Explanation: “Joining analogies” means citing examples to fit an idea and piling up comparisons; it does not express the truth. Nor are “binding things together with elegant prose and selecting and inserting phrases” the highest words. Listening and responding in conversation is “small talk.” The intent of the sage and the conduct of the superior person lie beyond the realm of names and words, beyond the boundary between speech and silence. Without writing or composing, they distinguish the myriad things; without praise or analogy, they awaken to the profound mystery upon mystery. This is “great disputation.” To speak nothing, say nothing, and understand in silence through Wuwei (non-action)—this is what seems like “stammering.” The sage dwells like a quail and pacifies those who attack; the superior person sits with hands folded and reaches the mystery. True transformation flows of itself, without anyone knowing its power, and thereby one may arrive at purity and stillness.

Restlessness Overcomes Cold; Stillness Overcomes Heat

Commentary: This example is given as a lesson: clinging to completion leads to failure; holding on to fullness leads to collapse. The sage benefits all beneath Heaven through his accomplishments, yet does not regard them as achievements, and so remains as if incomplete; therefore he suffers no harm. Though occupying a position of supreme honor, he does not regard it as an accomplished status, and so remains as if empty; therefore he is never exhausted. Fearing that people might not understand, the text uses the movement and stillness of Yang Qi to illustrate the point.

“Restlessness” means movement, and “overcomes” means reaching an extreme. In spring and summer, Yang Qi rises above the earth, and all things come to life through it. When the movement of Yang Qi reaches its extreme, it becomes cold; in the cold, all things wither and die. This shows that restlessness is the root of death, and flourishing the source of decline. It is an analogy for the idea that one who completes great work without remaining incomplete must fail, and one who holds fullness without remaining empty must collapse. Those who act forcefully and restlessly must perish.

“Stillness overcomes heat”: In autumn and winter, Yang Qi lies still beneath the Yellow Springs, deep underground. When its stillness reaches its extreme, it becomes hot; heat brings forth harmonious Qi, and all things come to life through it. Life arises from stillness, so we know that stillness is the root of life and also the ruler of restlessness. The analogy is to great achievement and fullness that can remain incomplete and empty; thus they suffer no harm, are never exhausted, and can bring forth life. Those who can practice Wuwei and remain pure and still move toward this state.

(Note: “Yellow Springs” here means the place underground where Yang Qi lies dormant, not the later funerary term. “The profound mystery upon mystery” refers to the deeply subtle principle of the mystery within the mystery.)

On “The Root of Life”

This passage urges people to nurture life through stillness and clarity, rather than hastening toward death through restlessness and rashness.

Explanation of the Meaning

A ruler who follows the highest principles, and a scholar who cultivates the Dao, should cast off harmful habits, avert calamities, and humbly conserve the spirit.

Laozi says, “Restlessness overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat.” Here, restlessness is a metaphor for the Yang energy of spring and summer at its height, when all things flourish to their utmost and then wither. Stillness is a metaphor for Yang energy lying dormant in autumn and winter: when it has been stored to the utmost, it gives rise to new growth.

The Book of Rites says that spring is called “stirring,” because all things stir into life, and summer is called “culmination,” because all things flourish through the Yang. In midwinter, one Yang gradually begins to sprout; Yang stirs and gives rise to life. This is called restlessness. When restlessness reaches its extreme, things wither and die.

Autumn is called “sorrow,” because all things are about to wither; winter is called “storing,” because all things close away and the Yang lies dormant, still unmoving. This is called stillness. When stillness reaches its extreme, it warmly nurtures life into being.

Thus, of the two energies, stillness is the root of life, while restlessness is the source of death. The Classic of the Hidden Talisman says, “Life is the root of death; death is the root of life.” This expresses how Yin and Yang overcome one another and how beginnings and endings depend on each other.

The Classic of the Celestial Origin says that after the beginning of summer, the sun travels north of the earth and dips less deeply below it, so nights are short, days are long, and the weather is hot. After the beginning of autumn, the sun travels south and dips farther below the earth, so nights are long, days are short, and the weather is cool. The sun’s varying distance of travel gives rise to differences in warmth, coolness, cold, and heat. Cold and heat, restlessness and stillness, are all expressions of the movement of Yang energy.

The Ruler Who Follows the Dao

When a ruler governs through Wuwei (non-action), and policies are tranquil, resources flourish and the people live in peace. The realms beyond the seas come to pay homage, and there is no need to use the five weapons of war. With clarity, emptiness, and stillness, deceitful people dare not intrude, and the violent dare not abuse their power. No beacon fires are lit; all under Heaven rests in peace. This is the power of stillness to prevail.

When moral instruction reaches its height, praise and song abound, and respect and deference flourish. The nine branches of the clan live in harmony, and the four gates are solemn and peaceful. Rites are established and music composed; the worthy are raised to office and the capable put to use. Distant peoples, traveling over mountains and seas, look toward the court and come to pay homage. They accept its customs and institutions, and people from the eight directions arrive in great numbers. All regions hasten to the court; human beings and spirits alike find harmony and fulfillment. In joyful accord, all are transformed by the Dao. Within, there are no acts of treachery; beyond the borders, no neighbors lie in wait for an opening. People sing and praise, dance and rejoice. All this is achieved through stillness and Wuwei.

The Opposite Case

If a ruler is restless and cruel, and officials are deceitful, the foundations of the state are shaken. Public resources are depleted, taxes grow heavier, the people suffer, and bandits rise in every direction. Warhorses appear in the countryside, and the borders are in turmoil. This is restlessness rushing toward death.

Brief Notes on Proper Names

Guangshengyi: A Tang dynasty commentary on the Daodejing, associated with Daoists such as Cheng Xuanying.

Conserving the spirit: Cherishing and gathering in one’s spirit.

Yinfu: The Classic of the Hidden Talisman, which discusses the workings of Heaven’s Dao and human affairs, including the mechanisms of life and death.

Classic of the Celestial Origin: A Daoist text on astronomy, calendrical methods, and the four seasons.

The five weapons: A general term for weapons and warfare.

Traveling over mountains and seas: A phrase describing distant states coming to pay homage.

Writing and tracks: A reference to unifying written forms and the tracks of carriages, meaning a shared system of institutions and submission to the court.

Bronze weapons gleam, and displays of power and authority shine forth. A mighty army, a million strong, marches north to ascend the Xiongnu leader’s platform. Banners stretch for a thousand miles along the banks of the Pae and Liao rivers. The old and weak are pressed into service, women help transport supplies, and the whole realm boils with unrest; all within the six directions is thrown into turmoil. When human strength is exhausted and the population dwindles, people are driven from their homes, the countryside lies empty, and in broad daylight one seems to hear ghosts weeping—this is the situation that arises when “frenzied force” temporarily gains the upper hand. If one first prevails through the principle of stillness and clarity, then warmth and harmony flourish among the people. If one prevails through frenzy, severity, and brute force, then desolation and chill prevail. Can one afford not to be vigilant?

“Stillness and clarity are the standard for all under Heaven.”

Commentary: Frenzy can overcome cold, and so the result is cold and desolate; stillness can overcome frenzy, and so the result is warm and harmonious. Hence the saying: “What bends can become perfectly straight; stillness and clarity are the standard.”

Explication: This passage draws together the principles developed earlier. Observing the advance and retreat of Yang Qi, the sage understands that frenzy is the source of the path toward death, while stillness is the root of life’s renewal. In human affairs, the sage nurtures all living beings, upholds the root to govern its branches, and follows the Way of stillness and clarity. Only then can one serve as the standard for all under Heaven.

Meaning: The sage knows that the practice of “emptying and yielding” can preserve fullness, and that the way of “clarity and stillness” can restrain movement. When movement is brought to completion, stillness and clarity naturally become apparent; when frenzy is subdued, gentleness and harmony naturally shine forth. By leading the world through Wuwei (non-action) and guiding all regions back to what is right, one follows the workings of Yin-Yang and the alternation of cold and heat, and makes clear the roots of life and death, gain and loss.