《西昇經集註》

This passage recounts the opening narrative of the Scripture of Western Ascension (Xisheng Jing), describing Laozi's westward journey to spread the Dao. Departing from the Eastern Zhou dynasty, Laozi traveled west to teach in the distant land of Zhuqian (ancient India), earning him the title "Ancient Sage" (Gu Xiansheng) – an epithet signifying his embodiment of the primordial Dao that predates existence. Possessing all-encompassing sage virtue (De), Laozi's wisdom illuminated all things while his fundamental nature remained eternally tranquil and non-active (Wuwei), perfectly manifesting the characteristics of the Dao: appearing inactive yet accomplishing all things, simultaneously immanent in all phenomena yet transcending them, without birth or death, existing perpetually.

When Laozi passed through Hangu Pass (anciently called Taolin Pass), the border official Yin Xi – an important Daoist figure – had already received spiritual forewarning. From his thatched observatory at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain where he studied celestial patterns and Qi movements, Yin Xi observed purple Qi (vital energy) drifting westward from the east, celestial formations resembling dragons and serpents, and three auspicious winds appearing within a month. Recognizing these as signs of an approaching sage, he requested appointment as the pass keeper to await this encounter. Upon meeting Laozi, Yin Xi received him with reverent purification rituals (Zhaijiao). In response, Laozi expounded the profound teachings of the Dao De Jing, transmitting it in two sections (the Dao Jing and De Jing). Here, "Qi" refers to the numinous energy between heaven and earth, while "fasting" (Zhai) denotes the Daoist practice of purifying body and mind to commune with divine forces through ritual preparation.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang sought to return all things to their original truth, enabling everyone to attain the Dao. To this end, he compiled the scriptures into sections, dividing them into upper and lower volumes.

The section titled "Gaozi Daoyao" (Essential Teachings of the Dao to the Disciple) is explained by Xu Chong (a commentator) as follows: "Gao" refers to Laozi beginning to expound the Dao, while "zi" denotes Yin Xi (Laozi’s disciple). This section conveys the most fundamental methods of cultivation and the path to transcendence and immortality. Here, "yao" signifies the most profound and essential principles.

Regarding the exposition of "the Dao follows the natural" (Dao fa ziran), Li Rong (another commentator) states: What is called "natural" means that internally, there is no deliberate contrivance, and externally, there are no conditional constraints. It is pure emptiness, mysterious and tranquil, beyond ordinary reasoning to fathom its origin. One cannot distinguish inner from outer based on self and other, nor judge its form by presence or absence. It cannot be defined by Yin-Yang in its manifestation, nor can its root be traced through cause and effect. This is the supreme Dao of self-so emptiness and naturalness.

Those who truly cultivate can comprehend the Dao, and those who hear of the Dao can speak its principles. Li Rong points out that throughout history, there have been those who cling to fixed views. When ordinary people hear "the Dao follows the natural," they assume no cultivation or learning is needed, leaving aspiring practitioners with no starting point. Thus, these words serve as an admonition to follow the teachings. If one aligns with heavenly principles in learning and adheres to the guidance in practice, true attainment of the Dao is possible. Hearing the Dao and then acting ensures that all conduct conforms to its measure; speaking of the Dao ensures that all words accord with heavenly principle—only then can one be called "capable of speech."

Xu Chong explains: Those who truly understand the wondrous Dao know that it cannot be expressed through form or sound. Using words and appearances to describe it only distances one further from the Dao. Li Rong adds: The truth is originally ineffable, yet language is employed to clarify its principles. Once the profound meaning is grasped, words are naturally forgotten—hence, "those who know do not speak." Clinging to doctrine breeds confusion; mistaking words for truth itself obstructs realization—hence, "those who speak do not know."

Li Rong further elaborates: The reason language is still used is to convey meaning through sound. "Mutual understanding" (xiangwen) means mutual comprehension. If those who know do not speak, and those who speak do not know, why then do sages leave behind such profound teachings? It is to use language as a means to guide people toward the Dao, even though the Dao itself is beyond words.

Liu Renhui (another commentator) states: To enlighten those who have not yet heard the Dao, words are necessary for instruction. Using these words to bring others to understanding is called "mutual affirmation" (xiangran). Those who do not comprehend the Dao merely engage in verbal disputes. Liu Renhui notes: Those who fail to grasp the profound essence will only indulge in empty discussions of names and concepts.

Xu Chong concludes: Those who truly penetrate the Dao need no verbal explanations—they naturally align with eternal truth. Ordinary people fail to understand this principle, neither listening nor speaking, much less discerning its underlying reason.

Those who do not know how to listen and comprehend cannot understand the great Dao. They fail to grasp the fundamental reasons for cultivating the Dao. Li Rong (Tang dynasty Daoist) explains that these reasons refer to the essential distinctions between origin and manifestation, truth and teaching, reality and falsehood, good and evil. If sages do not speak the teachings and ordinary people do not listen with open minds, how can one distinguish the fortune and misfortune brought by good and evil, or the deviation and correctness caused by truth and falsehood? Only through teaching can one open the ineffable mechanism (referring to the mysterious opportunity beyond language) to comprehend the supreme truth never before heard, thereby reaching the origin of knowledge.

Just as a musician discerns musical tones through strings—Li Rong says sound does not arise from nothing but must come from vibrating strings; truth does not manifest by itself but ultimately requires language for expression. Sometimes the heart understands what words cannot convey, as Cheng Xuanying (Tang dynasty Daoist) states: the musician distinguishes pitches through strings, while the Dao cultivator comprehends truth through words. Both are formless and colorless, profoundly mysterious, only to be inwardly apprehended rather than verbally expressed. Li Rong adds: though the heart understands the subtleties of music, even the most eloquent tongue cannot fully describe them; though wisdom apprehends the refinements of truth, even the most brilliant rhetoric cannot exhaust them.

The great Dao is profound and subtle—those who truly understand it speak sparingly. Liu Renhui (Tang dynasty Daoist) remarks: even the sounds of string and wind instruments are difficult for musicians to describe clearly, how much more so the formless and imageless great Dao? Xu Miao (Jin dynasty scholar) points out: the subtle and mysterious Dao transcends language, hence true knowers do not speak carelessly. To discern the sorrow and joy within sounds requires careful inner contemplation—Liu Renhui explains: like the mixed grief and joy when reuniting with long-lost kin, or the complex emotions when losing and rediscovering the Dao. The so-called "listening beyond words" means abandoning language to contemplate truth.

When the mind wishes the mouth to speak, what emerges has already lost authenticity. Xu Miao says: the mind can comprehend the great Dao, but expressing it through language becomes delusion, hence "those who speak do not know." Cheng Xuanying analogizes: the Dao is as difficult to describe as music, only to be inwardly grasped rather than verbally conveyed—once put into words it already deviates from true Dao. Liu Renhui supplements: though speech originates from the heart, the mouth ultimately understands less than the heart, thus one must transcend language to seek true meaning.

Chapter Two of "Profundity of the Dao" records: Laozi said the great Dao is profoundly mysterious—a void-like abyss. Wei Chuxuan (Tang dynasty Daoist) explains: "mysterious" means containing, "profound" means ultimate. Though the Dao's substance is void, it embraces all phenomena, hence called "abyssal mystery." Xu Miao further elaborates: its profundity dwells at the cosmic core, its mystery serves as the treasury of all things, its voidness can contain heaven and earth, and within its "nothingness" lies the "great being" that creates all existence. Though you hear these teachings, if your heart cannot contemplate them with refined perception ("subtle elixir" refers to refined cultivation states), you still cannot truly comprehend.

Although Yin Xi (Lord Yin) had the intention to seek the Dao, he likely lacked the actual practice of diligent cultivation. Therefore, Laozi had to clearly admonish him: the profound truths of Daoist philosophy and the mysteries of emptiness are difficult to fully grasp even with sincere devotion and meticulous study—how much more so with a restless and superficial attitude? One must practice with unwavering faith and contemplate with reverent sincerity to truly realize the Great Dao (Dao).

Why can the classics not fully convey the true meaning? Because writing cannot exhaust speech, and speech cannot fully express thought. The Dao itself is boundless, so the scriptures that record it naturally cannot encompass it completely. The commentator Master Xu explains that the words of the classics are often concise and do not elaborate on every detail precisely to encourage learners to settle their minds and repeatedly study them, carefully contemplating their subtleties from beginning to end, thereby attaining genuine understanding.

Laozi teaches: You must treasure these teachings and constantly reflect on them inwardly. The manifestation of the natural Dao does not come at a predetermined time—if you cultivate diligently without cease, you will naturally encounter it without even realizing it. Hearing this, Yin Xi respectfully bowed and asked how he should specifically practice and study.

Regarding the teachings of the "Chapter on Skillful Practice": Those who are adept at studying the classics will surely settle their minds to carefully savor the meaning within the words. Master Xu explains that those who wish to cultivate spiritual texts and immortal arts, or comprehend the mysteries of the true Dao, must first calm their spirit (Shen), understand the meaning of the text, and only then can they practice correctly and ultimately accomplish the Dao. Master Chong adds that when the writing is elegant, the principles flow smoothly; when the words are concise, the truths are essential—only when both are present can it be called "skillful writing."

Those who are adept at explaining principles must comprehend the true meaning of language. Master Chong says that when the writing is both profound and broad, and the speech is unimpeded and fluent, the purpose of composing scriptures and transmitting the Dao is fulfilled. Master Liu concludes that as long as one diligently cultivates these methods, they become the steps to attaining the Dao.

Those who study writing excel in calligraphy, eloquent speakers are skilled in debate, and only those who diligently strive can attain the Dao. From this perspective, the Dao can indeed be cultivated through practice.

Seeking the true Dao does not require deliberate searching, for the Dao will naturally reveal itself. As Li's commentary explains: When cultivating the true Dao, one may appear not to be consciously learning, yet in truth, learning is happening everywhere; one may seem to take no deliberate action, yet action is present in all things. The true Dao is omnipresent—there is no need to pursue it forcefully. Simply direct your heart toward the Dao, and the Dao will naturally return to you.

Do not entertain deviant thoughts, and unwholesome energies (Qi) will dissipate on their own. Li notes: Deviant thoughts arise from external, purposeful striving. Refrain from actions contrary to the Dao and avoid unnecessary burdens—then unwholesome Qi will naturally fade. This is the principle of Wuwei (non-action), through which one naturally receives heaven's aid. Chong’s commentary adds: When every thought is upright, who dares to act with deviance? Where right intent exists, wrong intent naturally perishes, and the true Dao lends its support—this is the state of Wuwei.

Those unskilled in ritual offerings to spirits and deities will find that these beings avoid them instead. Liu’s commentary explains: Followers of heterodox paths seek blessings through improper sacrifices (Yinsi), yet spirits despise their deceit. The upright make no such demands—they maintain reverence and distance, embodying humility, and thus spirits naturally withdraw.

Do not exhaust the spirit (Shen), and longevity will follow naturally. Li remarks: Those who nurture life (Yang Sheng) keep their bodies pure; those who cultivate the mind keep their spirit tranquil. A tranquil spirit is free from exhaustion, and a pure body remains untainted. Neither wearied nor defiled, one merges with the Dao, and life naturally knows no end. Liu adds: Those who strain their spirit and harm their form live unpredictably between life and death, while those who neither exhaust the spirit nor force longevity find their years extended effortlessly.

Neither aggressively advancing nor deliberately retreating—who can scheme against you? Xu’s commentary states: Establishing merit should be as inconspicuous as laziness, appearing as if one makes no effort; cultivating the Dao should resemble stepping back without revealing sharpness. Conceal brilliance without flaunting, blend with the world without contamination, flow with the current without drawing attention—thus, neither demons can interfere nor desires can shake you. With a mind empty and free of thought, who could harm you? Liu observes: Without calculating gain and loss, what is there to advance or retreat from? Follow the natural course of heaven’s principles—what need is there for scheming?

To embody these principles is to walk the true Dao—is this not heaven’s natural way? Xu explains: Such a state is Wuwei; such action is effortless. To reach this realm of the true Dao—is it not spontaneous? Li concludes: This is the fruition of cultivation. Turn your heart to the Dao, and the Dao arrives; distance yourself from deviance, and deviance departs. To live by these principles is the true Dao—is this not perfectly natural? Liu remarks: The essence of gold and jade needs no carving to be beautiful; the virtue of the sage requires no striving to be exalted.

Human standards of right and wrong shift with time. When the heart is joyful, one bows reverently; now hearing these teachings (referring to Daoist truth).

Liu's commentary explains: Valuing the Dao's methods, respecting teachers, expressing reverence, and receiving instruction—these constitute essential attitudes for cultivation.

Chapter Four expounds the essence of diligent practice. Laozi says: Practice the Dao's methods with care, treasuring them in your heart like precious jewels. Xu's commentary clarifies: Carefully observe Daoist precepts (kejie refers to behavioral guidelines in Daoism), diligently cultivate pure spiritual practice (fanxing means unstained cultivation), cherish the Dao's methods, and honor De (Virtue). Maintain the true Dao within and embrace perfect unity. Liu's note emphasizes this as guiding cultivation through disciplined precepts.

Laozi indicates his imminent journey, saying no fixed appointment is needed—those destined will meet again. Liu explains this refers to Laozi's intended travel to India (Zhuqian denotes ancient India), yet adepts of the Dao resonate spontaneously without need for arranged meetings.

After receiving these teachings, Yin Xi (Laozi's disciple) resigned his official post at Hangu Pass, claiming illness, and retreated to solitary cultivation. Liu remarks: Worldly affairs and pure practice follow divergent paths—one cannot serve both. Without relinquishing fame and gain, genuine pursuit of the Dao proves impossible.

Maintain serenity to contemplate the Great Dao, focusing single-mindedly on preserving unity. Li's commentary states: Purity without desire constitutes serenity; eliminating distractions to nurture true nature is contemplation. Restraining emotions is called perfected resolve; an uncluttered mind is called guarding unity. Liu adds this represents the complete state of wuwei (non-action).

Investigate the origin of emptiness, analyzing subtle mysteries. Li explains: Emptiness constitutes the Dao's essence—Yin Xi contemplated the ultimate void, tracing existence to its source. "Yimi" denotes profound subtlety, where "yi" signifies pure unity and "mi" indicates profundity. The wondrous principle is singular; the Dao-mind is exquisitely refined—only through analytical understanding can heavenly principles and innate nature be fully grasped.

Though expounding subtle truths in detail, the heart's true meaning remains unmanifested. Wei's note says: Though using exhaustive words to teach beings, the inner mind abides eternally in wordless stillness. Li clarifies: "Miaoyan" refers to mysterious teachings; "luo" conveys vast containment while "lü" indicates meticulous detail. Through studying the Great Dao and probing subtleties, one penetrates profound tenets, absorbed in Dharma-principles without outward thoughts. Liu states "yimi" means refinement—when exploring abstruse principles, the mind becomes lucid without expending spirit on external pursuits.

Recite scriptures ten thousand times—utmost sincerity yields penetrating understanding. Xu explains: When refinement reaches its peak and sincerity achieves absolute purity, "che" means thorough penetration. Yin Xi recited texts ten thousand times, exhausting subtle principles. With perfect sincerity, he pierced mysterious voids and comprehended exquisite subtleties. According to Zhen'gao records, the Taiji Perfected Being said: Read the Dao De Jing ten thousand times, and cloud chariots (immortals' vehicles) will come to welcome you.

This passage discusses how the key to cultivating the Dao and attaining immortality lies in sincere concentration and dedicated practice. Li's commentary explains that accumulating merit and comprehending profound principles cannot be done haphazardly—it requires complete mental focus. When a practitioner's wisdom becomes fully aligned with the teachings and their realization of spiritual states becomes perfectly clear, they achieve the state of "sincere concentration and thorough understanding."

Xu's annotation adds that cultivation requires returning to simplicity and authenticity, allowing Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) to gather within the body, thereby accessing the mysterious realms. Master Chongxu mentions the enlightenment process of Guan Yinzi (a disciple of Laozi): after receiving Laozi's teachings, he abandoned wealth and status to live in seclusion, making serenity and emptiness the foundation of his practice. Through secret, rigorous cultivation and repeatedly studying the Daode Jing and Wenshi Zhenjing over ten thousand times, he ultimately realized the source of the Great Dao, achieved longevity as an immortal, and earned the revered title "Master Wenshi," ranking among the supreme perfected beings.

Chapter Five, "Manifestations of the Dao," describes the form of the Dao: Laozi states that the Dao's manifestations have no fixed shape (formless) and no boundaries (limitless), existing in a vague, indeterminate state between existence and non-existence. Wei's commentary explains that because it cannot be seen, it is formless; because it cannot be located, it is limitless. "Vague and indeterminate" refers to its unpredictable, ever-changing nature. To say the Dao does not exist, yet it manifests all things; to say it exists, yet it remains silent, empty, and elusive.

Xu further elaborates: The Dao takes Jing (essence), Shen (spirit), and Qi (vital energy) as its substance. Though it shows signs of manifestation (Fa Xiang), it has no concrete form—only light, shadow, and energetic phenomena. Just as before a tree grows, one cannot see its branches, leaves, or roots (Liu's note: Though the branches and leaves are invisible, one cannot say the tree does not exist; though the Dao has no form, it truly exists). The formation of the Dao resembles how a tree requires the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and the cyclical Qi of the seasons (Xu's note: Just as the gathering of spirit and Qi manifests the image of the Dao, if the mysterious Qi has not yet fully circulated, separation and transformation will occur).

All things between heaven and earth are formed through the aggregation of Qi (the fundamental energy in Daoism). When Qi first condenses, it remains fragile; only through prolonged accumulation does it solidify, much like how the earth gradually took form from emptiness. The fundamental growth of all beings originates from Qi, which is why it's called the source of life.

All things manifest different flavors and forms—sweet, bitter, pungent, salty, and sour—the five basic tastes. This is because they each receive distinct types of Qi (the Five Phases energies of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth), which in turn nourish the five inner spirits. Due to the waxing and waning of these Five Phases energies, the characteristics of all things vary. If a person can understand and apply these principles to nurture themselves, they may attain a higher state of being.

At their formation, all things receive varying amounts and intensities of Qi, resulting in uneven manifestations. The initial Qi received by different life forms may be pure or turbid, leading to differences in their innate nature and behavior. Whether animal or plant, though all share Qi as the source of life, they develop distinct traits as they grow, each embodying a particular emphasis in the Qi they embody.

Though all things originate from the great Dao, they acquire different names and forms. Those with clear minds tend toward uprightness and goodness, while those with turbid consciousness easily veer toward evil. Due to differing aspirations and innate natures, myriad life forms emerge. Fundamentally, all life springs from the Dao—only their names, appearances, and classifications differ.

Different dispositions lead to different actions, which in turn shape distinct physical forms. Those of virtuous nature receive blessings, while the wicked suffer retribution, cycling through the six realms (heaven, humans, asuras, animals, hungry ghosts, and hell). All things are born from the interaction of Yin and Yang energies, with the Dao dwelling within them. Yet ordinary people and lesser beings often obsess over superficial appearances, unaware that all things share a single origin, knowing only the particular forms they inhabit. Beings of middling wisdom and below, including insects, can only passively accept the shaping forces of Yin and Yang.

Once the human form takes shape, various desires naturally arise. As Zhuangzi observed, "Once the physical form is acquired, one never ceases pursuing desires until life's end."

The pathways of life's emergence are manifold, just as all beings in the world differ fundamentally. Li Rong's commentary explains: The methods of life's transformation are diverse—there are humans, animals, and myriad non-human entities, each category fundamentally distinct. Xu Daomiao elaborates: The cyclical transformations of yin and yang (the two fundamental energies constituting all existence) represent the principle of life's generation, while their harmonious fusion constitutes life's essential nature. From this essential nature, life emerges through natural laws of transformation, giving rise to beings of countless forms. Whether plant or animal, human or non-human, all come into being only after receiving this fundamental principle and essential energy.

All existence originates from primordial emptiness (the original state of Dao), with consciousness emerging through the dynamic interaction of essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi). Xu Daomiao clarifies: Emptiness constitutes Dao's essential nature, demonstrating that both humans and all creatures originate from Dao. When essence and vital energy (two fundamental life forces) intermingle and stimulate each other, consciousness arises. As this consciousness condenses and transforms, the human form takes shape—revealing how emptiness generates substance, and the formless gives birth to form. Cheng Xuanying further notes: Though heaven and earth are vast beyond measure, and the myriad creatures infinitely varied—with plants and animals displaying countless forms, birds and beasts exhibiting diverse habits—all follow the same principle of transformation from "non-being" to "being." All receive life from Dao, accumulate Qi to form consciousness, and collectively follow this fundamental law of manifestation.

Like plucking strings to produce music from an instrument, Liu Renhui explains: The strings themselves contain no sound—only when plucked do they produce music. Similarly, primordial emptiness is fundamentally silent; consciousness emerges only through the dynamic interaction of essence and vital energy. Li Rong employs a musical analogy: Just as hands must pluck strings to create sound, and mouths must expel breath to produce speech, without mouths there can be no speech, and without strings no vibration can create music. Thus we understand the mouth as the root of sound, and the hand as the source of melody. Extending this principle, nothing in existence can manifest life without Dao's transformative power. Here, instruments like qin, se, zheng, and zhu (various stringed instruments) represent the hand's action, while flutes, pipes, and songs symbolize the mouth's expression.

The human body, speech, and consciousness all take Dao as their foundation, with Dao occupying the supreme position. The fundamental practice lies in maintaining a state of empty stillness, hence the saying "Dao follows what is natural." Li Rong explains: All living beings possess three functions—body, speech, and mind. What is their source? They must originate from Dao, hence "Dao manifests as the primordial head." Cheng Xuanying adds: The breath of speech, the movements of the body—all originate from mental activity. What governs the mind is consciousness (Shen), and what generates consciousness is Dao. When the mind is clear and free from forced action, consciousness remains tranquil and aligned with Dao; when agitated by desires, consciousness scatters and harms life. Only through maintaining emptiness and stillness, while concentrating one's vital spirit, can one accord with the natural way of Dao.

The human body, speech, and consciousness were originally pure and untainted by worldly defilements. Investigating its fundamental principle, this is because the nature of Dao (Daoxing) is inherently spontaneous and non-active (Wuwei).

(Chongxuzi's commentary notes) When the five musical tones (gong, shang, jiao, zhi, yu) remain concealed in mystical stillness, one can experience the serene joy of Dao; when these tones manifest in musical patterns, they stir human emotions of sorrow and pleasure. This resembles how the original simple nature becomes fragmented into concrete phenomena, and the profound essence turns superficial.

(Li Rong's annotation) The preceding passage explains how the natural Dao is fundamentally pure, unattached to visual or auditory perceptions, and unentangled with forms and sounds—this represents the ultimate source and most mysterious foundation. What follows describes how humans, after birth, chase desires and indulge emotions, losing the principle of emptiness-quietude and deviating from the natural Dao. Hearing the five tones, their ears become entranced; seeing the five colors, their eyes become fixated—deluded by artificial thoughts and bound by sensory phenomena.

(Liu Chuxuan's annotation) The yang-harmonious Qi (life's primordial energy) disperses into sensory desires, forming the six roots (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) that become tools enslaved to the physical form.

From this arises the cycle of birth and death, and the Great Dao becomes fragmented.

(Li Rong explains) The three karmic activities (body, speech, and thought) create causes, while the six dusts (sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and mental objects) constitute defilements. Following good and evil actions, one receives corresponding karmic retribution—transmigrating through the three realms (desire, form, and formless) and revolving among the five destinies (heavenly, human, animal, hungry ghost, and hellish). Life after life, through suffering and pleasure, nowhere remains unexperienced—hence "scattered and separated."

(Liu Chuxuan adds) The six roots, meant to nourish the body, instead become its harm. Unrestrained cravings inevitably link birth to death. When the spirit (Shen) departs while the form remains, natural separation occurs.

Abandoning the root to chase branches, simplicity scatters into superficiality.

(Xu Daomiao explains) Discarding the source to pursue tributaries, the simple nature fragments into concepts like humaneness and righteousness—turning profound authenticity into hypocritical shallowness, deviating from the Great Dao while presuming goodness, distorting Virtue (De) while assuming correctness.

(Li Rong states) Fragmenting simplicity constitutes "losing the root"; chasing tributaries constitutes "thinning profundity." Losing the authentic origin, sinking into worldly states, discarding honest conduct, and competing in frivolous trends.

The Great Dao manifests impermanence through transformations, aiming to return people to their original truth.

(Chongxuzi says) Inner illumination keeps the mind empty and pristine; outward pursuits weary thoughts with labor. Thus arise delusions, drowning in birth-death. Dao-Qi scatters no longer pure—all because of forgetting roots to chase tips, bustling about following currents, while the world considers this normal. The Dao's source is the nameless root; to transform these habits returns people to purity. Through cultivation, one may realize the Dao transcending conventions.

(Liu Chuxuan states) Revealing birth-death's impermanence lets people understand this isn't eternal truth.

The Collected Commentaries on the Western Ascension Scripture, Volume One, primarily elucidates the core concept of "returning to the root and restoring life's mandate." "Returning to the root" refers to going back to the source, like fallen leaves returning to a tree's roots; "restoring life's mandate" means reverting to the authentic state of life. This represents a crucial Daoist cultivation principle, asserting that humans should return to their innate nature and recover the primordial state of unity with the Dao (the Way, the highest truth in Daoism).

The commentary explains that all things have their origin, and human life originates from the Dao. By cultivating body and mind while eliminating acquired desires, one can return to this fundamental authenticity. Such return is not mere regression but rather achieving higher awareness through practice. Just as rivers ultimately flow into the ocean, practitioners must return to the embrace of the Dao.

The text emphasizes that cultivators must understand the relationship between "ming" (life's essence) and "xing" (innate nature). Through neiguan (inner observation) and shouyi (maintaining unity) practices, the shen (spirit) can return to a state of purity. This cultivation does not seek supernatural powers but rather represents an inward transcendence of the self.

Laozi explained to Yin Xi (Master Guan Yin, an important Daoist figure) that the fundamental principle of all things lies in the "Dao" (the Way), whose essence is natural Wuwei (non-action). Li Rong's commentary elaborates that when the primordial Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth first stirred, all things came into being, all following the natural order. Yet most people chase after trivial matters, rarely returning to the root. Thus, Laozi deliberately highlighted this truth to emphasize the importance of returning to the source, letting go of attachments, and reverting to a natural state.

In the process of growth, all things become entangled in various behaviors due to desires. Master Chongxuan noted that the fundamental Dao, which gives birth to all things, is both their parent and the origin of heaven and earth. Laozi reiterated this principle to ensure Yin Xi grasped its significance. Liu Renhui added that internal desires manifest as external actions, intertwining like chains that bind and constrain.

The transformations of all things follow a cyclical pattern: as the old perishes, the new forms; what seems to vanish is reborn. Li Rong employed the Buddhist concept of "karma" to explain this endless cycle of reincarnation. Liu Renhui further clarified that where one thing decays, another arises; where one perishes, another is born anew.

The formation of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) stems from the interaction of Yin and Yang energies. Xu Daomiao explained that the alternating dominance of seasonal Qi gives rise to the Five Phases, which mutually generate, overcome, destroy, and complete one another. Master Chongxuan pointed out that while the Five Phases each have distinct characteristics, the underlying Dao Qi is unified. Though Yin and Yang oppose each other, the Dao Qi remains impartial. The birth and destruction of the Five Phases resemble the changing seasons, while the successes and failures of Yin and Yang are like the cycles of cosmic epochs. Yet the "Dao" transcends both the Five Phases and Yin-Yang, eternally presiding over all without change.

Wei Chuxuan observed that as the Five Phases wax and wane, and Yin and Yang alternate, so too does human life cycle through birth and death. Within this endless transformation, the essence of all things continues unbroken.

Li Rong interpreted the "Dao" here as the principle governing the transformations of life and death. All things have their limits; only by relying on the "Dao" can one attain unimpeded freedom. This "Dao" originates from the profound and mysterious, surpassing conceptual thought—it cannot be measured in terms of existence or non-existence. Liu Renhui added that the seemingly empty state of "profound darkness" is not true nothingness, for all things emerge from this formless origin.

Ignorant people fail to discern the truth, mistakenly believing life arises by mere chance. In reality, the origin of the Dao begins with the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning (Yuanshi Tianzun, the supreme deity of Daoism). That profound and mysterious Dao-Qi (primordial energy) flows endlessly, becoming the root of all existence. All beings grow by receiving this Dao-Qi, whose essence is pure and singular - existence itself depends on obtaining it. Those lacking understanding cannot grasp that life depends on the Dao, thus losing touch with the fundamental truth.

How can those without the eye of Daoist wisdom comprehend the mystery of spiritual life? The principles governing life, death, and transformation originate from profound metaphysical realms beyond ordinary comprehension. Yet foolish people smugly cling to their brief lifespan, treating it as accidental happiness. How could those who haven't realized the great Dao possibly know: humans exist by attaining the Dao, and spirits manifest through the Dao's power? The so-called "Dao eye" refers to the wisdom-eye that penetrates all phenomena and illuminates hidden truths. Those who are lost cannot comprehend the great Dao in cosmic terms, nor recognize their true nature in personal terms - hence the saying "without the eye of Dao, how can you understand life's essence?" Truly wise people understand others, but more importantly understand themselves - this constitutes genuine enlightenment.

All beings between heaven and earth emerge from emptiness, like a giant cosmic bellows. The space between heaven and earth brims with Dao-Qi, with all things arising from emptiness - though named differently, they share one source. Just as bellows produce varied sounds, emptiness manifests myriad forms; though phenomena appear distinct, all originate from the great Dao.

Right and wrong have no absolute standards - what matters is appropriate application. Situations have favorable and unfavorable aspects, principles can adapt - clinging to fixed standards makes one lose the essence. Don't be constrained by words and labels, true wisdom lies in grasping the underlying meaning. Rather than argue endlessly with fools, better to seek truth from enlightened teachers. Studying gains and losses with virtuous mentors, clearly distinguishing right from wrong - this is the true path.

This passage expounds the principles of self-cultivation. When worldly affairs appear unclear in their merits and demerits, one should refrain from involvement; likewise, abstain from activities that bring no benefit to nurturing body and mind.

Petty disputes arise from ignorance of fundamental truths, wasting breath to no avail. Hence, one should never debate with foolish people. Choose orthodox cultivation methods, and never heed the words of heretical paths.

Commentator Li explains: Only by relinquishing words can one apprehend truth; only through Wuwei (non-action) can one align with the true Dao—this is the correct teaching. Deliberate action burdens one's true nature, while chasing desires injures one's innate character—these constitute heretical doctrines. "Do not believe" means withdrawing external focus to turn inward in self-reflection, avoiding deception by deviant views. Commentator Liu adds: What accords with heavenly principle is orthodox; what deviates is heterodox.

How to recognize someone deluded by heresy? Observe whether they're led astray by external things. Commentator Xu states: Those addicted to sensual pleasures, chasing fame and status, will have their Shen (spirit) disturbed by demonic influences and their minds bewitched by wealth. Liu notes: Such people cannot experience the true delight of Dao.

How to identify foolishness? See if one comprehends the deeper meaning behind words. Commentator Wei points out: Those ignorant of Dao's natural principles, beguiled by external matters, are heretics; those who mock Daoist teachings without grasping their true significance are fools. Liu remarks: Such stubborn ignorance blinds them to even the subtlest truths.

In cultivation, inquire about Dao; in studying scriptures, inquire about the classics. Wei explains: Understanding Dao as ultimate truth and seeking guidance to practice it—this isn't heresy; knowing scriptures contain practical wisdom and consulting them thoughtfully—this isn't foolishness. Liu observes: Dao cultivators must adapt to circumstances, while scripture students must probe profound meanings.

Asking superficial questions without addressing fundamentals reveals ignorance. Li clarifies: Dao is principle; scriptures are teachings. The obtuse neither comprehend external doctrines nor internal principles—grasping neither roots nor branches, like blind men groping an elephant. Liu adds: Dao is the root, scriptures are branches—those who confuse them are truly foolish.

Some seek blessings while oblivious to their accumulated transgressions. Li notes: Instead of accumulating merit through proper cultivation, they pursue fleeting fortunes through heterodox means—short-lived benefits never arrive while enduring misfortunes take hold.

Some focus on bodily preservation unaware they're harming their form. Li warns: Indulging gluttony under the guise of nourishment—such excessive yangsheng (nourishing life) practices ironically invite calamity.

Disasters and death befall humans not from external causes, but through the harm brought by the six sensory faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). As commentator Liu explains, foolish people perform good deeds seeking blessings while simultaneously committing evil that invites misfortune. Though clothing and food should sustain life, they pursue extravagant pleasures that destroy it. Therefore, those who cease evil deeds naturally accumulate fortune, and those who abandon desires can preserve their lives. Zhuangzi observed: "The world chases after prosperity, but only Dao cultivators understand yielding to preserve wholeness."

Maintaining the pure and simple state of an infant is most precious. Commentator Liu notes that those seeking blessings and nurturing life should emulate an infant's unadulterated nature. Commentator Wei explains "thick simplicity" (houdun) means profound genuineness—Dao practitioners must recognize that an infant's natural state is valuable precisely because it preserves this innate purity. Infants grow and form spontaneously without striving, existing obliviously without conscious pursuit of survival.

Neither forcibly pursuing longevity (wu lü) nor excessively clinging to existence (tai bai) leads instead to enduring presence. Commentator Wei clarifies that "lü" means deliberate action, while "tai bai" represents excessive longing for immortality. Abandoning both attachments allows one to approach an infant's simplicity and the Dao of lasting life. Commentator Li elaborates: people always seek to escape darkness for light, yet the scripture paradoxically advises "do not pursue tai bai"—this apparent contradiction contains profound meaning, teaching that maintaining primordial chaos leads to longevity, revealing the true subtlety.

Even the deepest father-child bond cannot ensure complete obedience. Commentator Li illustrates that no matter how strong the master-disciple relationship or profound parental love, children must heed their father's proper guidance when erring, and disciples must accept their master's corrections when misbehaving. Thus we honor teachers and value instruction.

Do not resemble those clamorous and overbearing types (jiao hai) who invite ridicule from near and far. Commentator Li warns that disciples who disregard Dao principles, unfilial children who defy parental instruction, and those violating ethical rites naturally become objects of scorn. The scripture's "do not" serves as stern admonition against such conduct.

Concealing wrongs while promoting virtue marks the noble person's standard. Commentator Xu explains: hidden misdeeds gradually diminish, while proclaimed goodness spreads widely—this is the way honored by noble individuals.

Chapter Seven distinguishes heterodoxy from orthodoxy. Laozi states: heterodox and orthodox teachings (xie zheng) both accord with natural principles, hence they respectively invite fortune and misfortune, just as different seeds inevitably yield different fruits.

Human nature is like a planted seed—a righteous seed naturally grows into an upright sprout, while a wicked seed naturally produces a crooked shoot. Those who act wickedly naturally invite misfortune, while those who act virtuously naturally attract blessings. Is this not the natural order of things?

The human heart harbors both rebellion and obedience; actions can be good or evil. As one behaves, so too does one teach others. Noble individuals guide others with upright principles, which we call "right teachings," while petty people mislead others with crooked ways, which we call "false doctrines." Those who follow false paths may not intend evil, yet calamity naturally befalls them; those who walk the true path may not seek reward, yet blessings come to them all the same. The consequences of good and evil are like planted seeds—different roots inevitably yield different fruits, without the slightest deviation.

From birth, people possess distinct innate natures; their fortunes, whether auspicious or ominous, shift according to their conduct, much like plants growing according to their seeds. Upright and wicked deeds precede, while blessings and misfortunes follow—only when signs appear and results manifest does understanding come, just as one can foresee what plant will grow from a seed.

The Great Dao (the cosmic origin) is vast and all-encompassing, originally without distinction between truth and falsehood. The emergence of truth and falsity stems from human words and actions. False teachings focus only on nourishing the physical form, while the true Dao emphasizes cultivating the spirit (Shen). Actions aligned with cosmic principles are the right path; those contrary to truth are the wrong path. The wrong path is illusory, hence called "false"; the right path is ultimate, hence called "true." The true Dao leads one to profound mysteries, hence the cultivation of spirit; the false path is shallow, hence mere bodily nourishment. Nourishing the body means indulging in rich flavors, while cultivating the spirit means refining the heart-mind through stillness.

Those who act with intention and desire can only tend to the body, while those who embody non-action (Wuwei) and desirelessness can refine the spirit. Those who focus on the body will ultimately return to dust, while those who cultivate the spirit transcend life and death. The true spirit, in harmony with the Dao, can transform infinitely—it can die and be reborn, vanish and endure. The physical form is destined to perish, and clinging to it is false; refining the spirit through non-action allows one to perceive all things in stillness—this is truth. Those who attain this state see life, death, existence, and extinction as equal—not clinging to being is true transcendence, and not fearing extinction is true eternity.

This scripture passage primarily expounds on the principle of Dao cultivators transcending physical constraints and seeing through worldly desires. Through interpretations by several commentators (Wei, Li, and Liu), it elucidates the following core concepts:

The human form will ultimately return to dust and is not worthy of attachment. What is truly wondrous is the "Shen" (primordial spirit, true nature), which can reach distant places without relying on speed, move without walking, and even carry the physical body in flight or move mountains and drain seas. Yet people often become entangled by sensory desires - what the eyes see and ears hear, what the nose enjoys in fragrances - which instead become sources of suffering.

The body experiences discomforts like heat and cold, pain and itchiness, while the mind is troubled by various worries and vexations. From ancient times to present, no one has maintained physical wholeness forever - even Pengzu (the legendary figure who lived eight hundred years) and children who died young ultimately meet the same fate of dissolution. Although Laozi (Laojun) appeared with the white hair of old age, his essence rejected worldly concerns and transcended mundane existence.

The key to Dao cultivation lies in "embracing the primordial and guarding the One" (holding fast to the original Qi and the pure, undivided Dao), through which one can surpass the ordinary and become an immortal. Ordinary people, however, become obsessed with worldly pursuits like official positions and glory, precisely demonstrating their inability to maintain the Great Dao. The commentators all emphasize that only by forgetting the physical form and quieting the deluded mind can one be liberated from internal and external afflictions, attaining genuine carefree freedom.

(Note: "Primordial One" refers to the original state of the Dao; "three characters in one position" likely indicates the cultivation state where the Three Treasures of Jing, Qi, and Shen unite; "Guardian of the Pass" refers to Yin Xi, the official at Hangu Pass who legendarily sought the Dao from Laozi)

Those who are obsessed with worldly glory and riches will never comprehend the true essence of the Dao (the Way). If you can maintain inner stillness undisturbed by external things, your Shen (spirit, the innate spiritual nature) will naturally settle. If you can act by relinquishing desires, you will preserve your fundamental nature. Only those who steadfastly uphold the principle of Wuwei (non-action) can be considered truly resolute.

Now I shall reveal the truth to you, explaining its profound mysteries in detail to help distinguish between falsehood and authenticity. What we call "luminous manifestation" means clearly demonstrating, "elaborate exposition" means thorough explanation, "dispelling doubts" means resolving confusion, and "judging decisively" means determining right from wrong. Indulging in passions is false; eliminating desires is true. Considering that people remain lost in delusion, unable to grasp these profound principles, I must speak plainly so you may understand the distinction between good and evil. Receive these precious teachings sincerely, with reverent devotion.

The Dao reveals itself only to those with enlightened understanding, while scriptures serve as the primary foundation for cultivation. Foolish minds never seek truth—only the awakened can practice the Dao. Attaining the Dao is no accident; it requires diligent study of the classics. Without enlightenment, one cannot perceive the Dao; without scriptures, there is nothing to rely upon.

The transmission of Daoist teachings knows no distinction between rich and poor, noble and humble—instruction is given without partiality. When the heart turns toward the Dao, the Dao naturally manifests; when one delights in studying scriptures, the classics spontaneously illuminate. Sages respond according to circumstances, with the key being karmic affinity. If there is no faith or practice, how can there be teaching? What matters most is unwavering devotion to the Dao and reverent adherence to its methods—only then can one receive the true transmission.

All beings between heaven and earth, including humanity, are fundamentally transformations of the primordial Qi (vital energy) of the Dao. This origin stems from the formless void of Taisu (the most primordial state of the cosmos). Taisu refers to the pure, uncontaminated state of absolute simplicity, while the void represents the beginning of all things.

This scripture elucidates the profound nature of Dao (the Way) as the origin of all things and the difficulty of human comprehension. Here is the section-by-section interpretation:

The most mysterious principle between heaven and earth is not a concrete existence. Though the Three Powers (heaven, earth, and humanity) are vast and the myriad things numerous, all take the pure and tranquil Dao as their fundamental source, with this profound principle as their primal foundation. Without Dao as the beginning, nothing could come into being—all existence arises this way, hence all things originate from Dao. This origin resembles faint, subtle radiance, the most profound and mysterious essence.

Commentator Liu explains: Taisu (the primordial state of the universe) represents Qi's (vital energy) initial form. Heaven, earth, and the myriad things all take Dao as their root, emerging from this Taisu state to ultimately return to emptiness. When things manifest concrete forms, that faint subtle radiance appears as the mysterious essence.

The scripture employs metaphor: Like a ten-thousand-foot abyss with trickling streams below—the water appears turbid and unclear, making it difficult even to discern the sand and stones at the bottom. Liu's commentary clarifies: Dao's profound mystery is hard to hear or see, hence concrete analogies are used to enlighten beings. Though the abyss is vast, human eyes perceive only a few feet—if even visible water remains unclear, how much more so the formless, silent, mysterious Dao?

Dao is deep and obscure—people cannot trace its origins, just as we cannot see the departed souls of the dead. Liu cites the Yijing (Book of Changes): Only when profound principles reach divine states can they be applied; beyond this realm they cannot be known. If even the omnipresent Qi of souls remains invisible in its movement, how much more unfathomable is Dao?

When pure Yin energy aggregates, Yang cannot manifest distinctly. Liu explains: Yang represents life, Yin represents death. The state of death lacks Yang, hence it's called pure Yin. When Yin and Yang harmonize, though Yang functions, it becomes indistinct and unrecognizable.

Commentator Wei states: Past and future events appear as clearly as things before our eyes, yet foolish people cannot even comprehend present phenomena—how much less that faint, subtle, mysterious Dao? Commentator Li adds: With heavenly vision one can foresee the future; with past-life recollection (a Buddhist abhijñā) one knows the past; through severing afflictions one understands the present. But today's deluded beings remain obscured, failing to realize the three realms (desire, form, and formlessness) are illusory, unable to penetrate the fundamental stillness of body and mind.

This scripture passage primarily discusses how ordinary people struggle to truly comprehend the profundity of the Dao (the Way), and reveals the proper approach to realizing its ultimate truth.

The text begins with metaphorical illustrations: Just as a mute cannot convey speech and the deaf cannot hear music, common people often fail to genuinely understand the truth of the Great Dao even when hearing it. Some who consider themselves clever and eloquent believe they've mastered the Dao, yet in reality remain inwardly ignorant, completely missing its authentic principles. Such individuals have already lost life's fundamental essence—how could they possibly apprehend the Dao's origin?

Laozi (the founding patriarch of Daoism) declares in the "Chapter on Practicing the Dao": Those who wish to cultivate my Dao methods must understand that supreme wisdom doesn't arise spontaneously—it always depends on supporting conditions. Wisdom functions like a bright mirror reflecting the essence of all things, but to thoroughly penetrate wisdom's source requires guidance from an enlightened teacher. Without proper karmic conditions, wisdom cannot emerge.

Each person's destiny (original life fortune) connects to past cultivation—attributes like wisdom/foolishness, nobility/humility, wealth/poverty, and longevity/premature death all stem from karmic seeds planted in previous existences. Only those truly aligned with the Dao can attain it; only virtuous individuals can establish the foundation of De (Virtue/Power). The scripture emphasizes that both wisdom and Dao-realization require complete karmic conditions—one cannot presume to fathom the Great Dao through mere intellectual cleverness alone.

This scripture primarily discusses the law of karma and the importance of spiritual cultivation in seeking the Dao. It states that the length of one's lifespan and the measure of blessings one receives are all connected to actions in past lives. Virtuous people, by following the same Dao (cosmic principle), can collectively attain its true essence, while wicked individuals who deviate from the right path ultimately lose the foundation of Dao and De (Virtue/Power).

The text uses the phrase "neglecting study in past lives" to explain present predicaments—just as someone who failed to study the classics in previous incarnations and lacks proper guidance from teachers or companions in this life will remain as ignorant as one staring at a wall. Those obsessed with wealth, status, and fame harbor resentment within and cannot attain inner peace. In contrast, true sages emphasize compassion for the poor and weak, standing in stark opposition to worldly people.

Regarding the pursuit of the Dao, the scripture stresses that one must have an enlightened teacher to resolve doubts. The author laments that the true Dao is as subtle and hard to discern as a strand of hair, with few genuinely understanding its profundity. How can teachers who are themselves confused possibly guide their disciples? Even those with vast knowledge cannot be considered true masters if they fail to grasp the essence.

Laozi (Li Er) said: "If one lacks innate wisdom within and has no enlightened master to guide them externally, they cannot distinguish even the smallest things, let alone comprehend the origin of the Dao." Liu Chuxuan explains that this emphasizes how subtle and difficult to grasp the Great Dao truly is.

Xu Daomiao elaborates: Since the primordial separation of heaven and earth, through the misty chaos, countless eons have passed. These ancient kalpas (a Buddhist/Daoist unit of cosmic time) are as numerous as grains of sand—impossible to calculate or describe through metaphor. Each cosmic transformation marks a new cycle of kalpas. Laozi (the Supreme Lord Lao) reflects on his own arduous journeys through the underworld, ascents to immortal mountains, dwelling in ocean depths, and traversing battlefields and dusty winds to teach sentient beings—a testament to his extraordinary diligence.

Li Rong annotates: Worldly learning accumulates more and more (weixue riyi), while Daoist cultivation reduces more and more (weixue risun). Clinging to "having learning" obscures truth; only by reaching the state of "no learning" can one truly understand the Dao of nature. What is called "natural" is achieved without deliberate action yet accomplishes all. The preceding passage admonishes practitioners to diligently cultivate this path and maintain proper scholarly attitude.

Liu Chuxuan states: "Just as plants must return to their roots to understand their essence." Xu Daomiao adds: "The root of Daoist practice lies in tracing back to the source, returning from branches to the primordial essence of Taishi (cosmic origin), ultimately merging with the eternal Dao. Only then can one realize that wuwei (non-action) is the highest state—the mystery within mystery." Liu further explains: "Worldly attachment to 'having' leads to the cycle of life and death, while Daoist pursuit of 'non-being' attains eternal existence."

Li Rong concludes with a warning: "If one can enter the realm of formlessness (beyond appearances), all mysteries will naturally manifest. But if one clings to deliberate action, the gate to the mysterious will close." Liu Chuxuan summarizes: "What is called 'non-being' refers to the Great Dao, while 'being' refers to the mundane world. Connection with the Dao brings liberation; connection with the mundane entangles one in the web of life and death."

Laozi earnestly instructed his disciples: "You must attentively listen to and embrace these principles." Li Rong's commentary explains that because the true Dao is difficult to comprehend, it requires repeated emphasis and demands careful contemplation with sincere acceptance.

The supreme state of the Dao manifests as "wuwei" (non-action, acting in accordance with nature without forcing), while the foundation of De (Virtue) lies in benevolence. Master Chongxuan further elucidates: The ultimate "Great Nothingness" represents the pinnacle of the Dao, while humaneness forms the core of the Five Virtues. Wei Chuxuan adds that the Dao has no fixed form—appearing to do nothing yet accomplishing everything—thus serving as the supreme principle governing all existence. When obstacles arise in the myriad things, the Dao makes them pass through; when deficiencies appear, benevolent De manifests to compensate.

Specifically: The practice of ritual should be grounded in righteousness, maintaining humility; charitable giving should spring from genuine kindness to foster goodwill; virtuous acts must prioritize benefiting others; keeping faith should foremost consider tangible results. Li Rong emphasizes: Those seeking to cultivate the Dao must understand "wuwei" as the highest state—deliberate action contradicts the Dao's nature. In nurturing De, benevolence is fundamental—harming life violates true Virtue. In performing rituals, one must understand proper measure and maintain modesty; bestowing favors requires sincerity lest they become false offerings; virtuous deeds must truly help others; keeping faith demands perfect alignment of words and deeds.

Li Rong observes: Even in ages of moral decline when people superficially discuss Dao, De, humaneness and righteousness, these are but hypocritical performances used to deceive one another. Liu Renhui supplements that people in chaotic times engage in such conduct with ulterior motives, not through genuine practice of the Great Dao to benefit all beings. Thus we understand that when social mores deteriorate, people often employ ornate superficialities to flatter and deceive each other.

This scripture passage, through the dialogue between Laozi and his disciples, reveals the distinction between true and false morality, emphasizing that Dao cultivation must manifest in concrete practice rather than superficial display. It particularly warns that in eras of moral decline, one must be especially discerning between authenticity and pretense.

This scripture, through annotations by several Daoist scholars, reveals the moral decline of contemporary society. Li Rong (Li comments) observes that people have lost the essence of De (Virtue), forfeiting even the sincerity of benevolence and righteousness, leaving only hypocritical rhetoric for mutual flattery. Liu Renhui (Liu adds) notes that upon examining a person's conduct and motivations, such shallow and superficial nature ultimately cannot be concealed.

Wei Chuxuan (Wei remarks) criticizes this hypocritical age: people exploit the names of benevolence and righteousness for personal gain, using doctrines of ritual and trust to pursue empty fame—their words fly swifter than dragons while their actual deeds crawl slower than lame turtles. Xu Miao (Xu contrasts) past and present: ancient gentlemen spoke cautiously but acted swiftly, whereas modern petty people speak hastily yet act sluggishly.

The text laments how virtues like benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and trust have become neglected, with moral decay long entrenched. People no longer interact through Dao and righteousness, but instead cling to wealth and connections. Wei Chuxuan explains that the world maintains empty titles of these virtues without substance—as insubstantial as catching reflections in mirrors or grasping echoes in the wind. This deceptive form of indoctrination has deluded humanity for ages.

The scholars employ vivid analogies: mirror reflections are visible yet intangible, wind echoes audible yet uncatchable—just like the hollow facade of worldly teachings. Li Rong concludes: rash promises and shallow actions, these utilitarian pursuits are known to be futile, yet those immersed in worldly affairs remain stubbornly deluded. This state of confusion has persisted far too long.

All beings under heaven—what eternal ruler could possibly govern them? Yet generation after generation, people remain lost in this delusion. Wei Yingwu, the Tang dynasty poet, explains: All things grow naturally, with no inherent master. But those who are confused believe the Dao can be passed from person to person, that the laws of nature can be given to others, and so they transmit these false teachings—is this not absurd? Liu Chuxuan, the Jin dynasty Daoist, adds: The sage harmonizes with the world, their spirit transcending life and death, their form changing with circumstance. Yet the teachings they leave behind are misunderstood by later generations, passing delusion down as truth—and so this error persists.

Falsehood invades the realm of truth, yet true emptiness (the original state of the Dao) has no form. Liu Chuxuan points out: The foolish cannot distinguish between them, allowing false doctrines to seep in, disguising cunning as wisdom and disturbing the truth—what appears to be the Dao is not. Xu Daomiao, a commentator, says: The deluded master is himself false, unable to discern truth from deception, entangled in greed and chasing worldly gain with no way back. How could cultivation practiced this way ever endure? Li Rong, a Tang dynasty Daoist, explains: Falsehood belongs to "deliberate action" (youwei), while truth belongs to "non-action" (wuwei). Those lost on the path seek enlightenment through false means, trying to enter the realm of wuwei through youwei—they will never succeed. Taking illusion as reality is like mistaking emptiness for substance. Clinging to artificial striving, blind to the truth of natural non-action—how could they ever attain the Dao? All because they chase wealth and profit, cultivating themselves this way only to lose the true Dao of wuwei.

This is not the eternal Dao—it will vanish in the end. But who is to blame for the blindness of fools? Liu Chuxuan offers a metaphor: Just as wood gives birth to fire, fire in turn consumes the wood; false thoughts arise from the self, only to destroy it in the end.

In Chapter 11, "The Words of the Sage," Laozi says: The words of the sage reveal that understanding the Dao comes through "observing the law" (faguan). Wei Yingwu explains: How should the Dao’s law be observed? In truth, there is no need for deliberate observation—understanding comes naturally. The Daode Jing states: "Constantly without desire, observe its mysteries"—this is the meaning. Why do all things arise? Not for the sake of arising, but spontaneously—from this, one knows the natural essence of the Dao. Liu Chuxuan says: All life originates from the Dao.

The eyes see and stir the heart; the mouth speaks what the heart holds; the nose is the gateway of breath.

This passage explores the relationship between human life and breath (Qi), as well as the principle of Wuwei (non-action, going with the natural flow).

The eyes perceive colors, the mind is shaped by past experiences, the mouth speaks, and the nose breathes air. These functions arise naturally—no one deliberately arranges them. The nose and mouth serve as gateways for Qi, just as the ears and eyes receive sound and images.

Breathing is the foundation of life. Human existence is as fleeting as a white steed glimpsed through a crack, with breath rushing in and out. When Qi gathers, life thrives; when it scatters completely, death follows. A seven-foot body and a hundred-year lifespan all depend on this cycle of inhalation and exhalation. Life relies on Qi, and Qi depends on the body. When breath ceases, life ends; when the body perishes, Qi disperses.

Just as plants depend on the cycle of seasons to grow and wither, the human body relies on breath to sustain life. Once breath is cut off, death occurs; if Qi is imbalanced, illness arises. The seasons have their flourishing and decline, all things undergo birth and death, and the human body is composed of the four elements (earth, water, fire, wind). When these elements scatter, death follows; when they harmonize, life persists. Abundant Yang Qi brings health, while excessive Yin Qi leads to weakness, giving rise to suffering, illness, aging, and death.

Thus, rather than obsessing over life and death, one should maintain a mindset of Wuwei (non-action). Youwei (deliberate action) breeds desire and the cycle of rebirth, while Wuwei preserves tranquility. Wuwei means neither forcing action nor inaction, neither coming nor going, neither clinging to life nor fearing death—simply flowing with natural changes, accepting fate, and thereby avoiding fault.

Without attachment to physical form, one avoids conflict with Youwei (deliberate action). If one indulges in bodily pleasures, surrenders to the desires of the six senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and thought), and allows the three karmic actions (body, speech, and mind) to run wild, they become trapped in the resentment of the cycle of life and death. Understanding that the body does not truly belong to oneself—that life is merely a product of natural harmony—prevents excessive attachment to survival, eliminating resentment and harm.

The human body is composed of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). When these elements remain in harmonious interaction without conflict, the body maintains health. But excessive human interference disrupts the Yin-Yang balance. One should relinquish external cleverness, allowing the body to regulate naturally, with each organ fulfilling its proper function and the Yin-Yang energies circulating in orderly fashion—this preserves the body's complete functionality.

Nothing in this world possesses an eternal, unchanging form. All things that have taken shape will eventually decay. Only the sun, moon, and stars (the Three Luminaries) operate without conscious intent, shining perpetually. The sage emulates this natural Dao—though achieving accomplishment, they remain unattached, thus sustaining enduring success.

Cultivation requires proper methods and sequence. The key to attaining immortality lies in concentrating one's Shen (spirit) and contemplating the Great Dao. When wisdom merges with the Dao and spirit unites with form, one enters the realm of serene emptiness. Through Daoyin (guiding and pulling) techniques, Qi is harmonized while preserving the Three Ones (the deities of the upper, middle, and lower Dantian), enabling these divine presences to dwell permanently within the Three Palaces (the three energy centers). When the heart-mind becomes pure, the deities will naturally descend.

Practitioners should maintain a mindset of detached Wuwei (non-action). When one concentrates on contemplating the Dao, the Dao naturally responds. By forgetting distracting thoughts—as if in the twilight between dreaming and waking—the deities subtly come and go within the body. In this state, the Shen can move freely beyond all constraints.

This scripture passage discusses several common deviations that may arise during Daoist cultivation, as well as how to attain genuine clarity and wuwei (non-action).

Practitioners may maintain an outwardly detached and serene demeanor, believing they have severed all desires (afflictions), yet subtle thoughts and latent cravings still linger within. It's like those who consider themselves free from desires, unaware they still harbor subconscious attachments (persistent divergent thoughts). Master Xu points out this state resembles keeping one's doors shut while observing precepts, yet unwholesome thoughts still arise unnoticed.

When cultivators have restless qi (their vital energy remains coarse and excessive), they easily become entangled in worldly affairs. Master Li explains that what begins as minor distractions gradually accumulates into chaotic deluded thoughts (tangled purposeful actions). Living in the mundane world, the six emotions (sensory desires of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind) constantly pull at one's shen (spirit), which forms the root of being "overly engaged."

The scripture further explains that once involved in external matters (affairs arise), the body becomes agitated (physical movement), and the mind chases outward (external scheming). Master Xu warns that exhausting one's spirit calculating gains and losses (scheming over profit and loss) marks the beginning of cultivation's downfall (source of peril). Prolonged such behavior damages both internal and external aspects: the physical form deteriorates outwardly (body exhausted externally), while the shen becomes depleted inwardly (spirit wearied internally), ultimately shortening lifespan (premature death).

Master Li concludes that true peace comes from being free of thoughts and calculations (without thought or worry brings peace), while scheming inevitably brings danger (with plotting comes peril). Only through maintaining stability can one endure, whereas falling into peril makes persistence difficult. This passage particularly emphasizes that cultivation must transcend superficial practice to achieve authentic tranquility of shen and qi.

When people fail to know when to stop, they harm themselves and shorten their lifespan—thus such individuals cannot attain longevity.

Considering the relationship between the body, reputation, and material pleasures, none of these can be maintained for long. Li Rong (a commentator) explains: The body is internal, while reputation is external. Even the internal body is as fleeting as a bubble or shadow—how much more illusory is external reputation, like flowers that quickly fade. Since even the body cannot endure forever, how can material possessions be gathered permanently? People constantly use this limited physical form to chase after countless external things, seeking to accumulate sensory pleasures, fame, and profit for themselves. One must be wary of these burdens and not be tainted by greed.

Xu Miao (another commentator) states: So-called "external matters" refer to wealth and material goods. The body is the vessel for cultivating the Dao, while reputation actually harms the body. Thus, when reputation is achieved, the body suffers; only when the body is at peace can the Dao flourish. From this perspective, neither fame nor wealth can be accumulated for long. Liu Renhui (a commentator) adds: How can one truly gather riches while damaging the body in pursuit of reputation?

People are often seduced by titles and fame. Liu Renhui points out: Those who indulge their desires, chase fame and profit, become obsessed with sensory pleasures, and revel in extravagance—have they ever recognized their wrongdoing? Thus, they are inevitably led astray by their desires. Xu Miao supplements: Using lofty reputations and prominent status to adorn oneself while being inwardly driven by profit—since profit is the true goal, one is bound to be ensnared by fame and gain.

These calamities all stem from greed, which is the root of disaster. Xu Miao explains: "Sitting" (坐) refers to the origin of transgressions, while "calamity" (殃咎) denotes misfortune and karmic retribution. Those who excessively pursue fame—their offenses all arise from insatiable greed, which brings suffering across three lifetimes. Li Rong says: Those who are never content—none avoid self-destruction by violating the Dao. Liu Renhui cites legal principles: Though ancient penal codes contained three thousand statutes, all punishments were for greed—none were for integrity and uprightness. Since greed is such a great calamity, why do people not take warning?

Greed is the most severe illness, a habit accumulated over long ages. It seeps in like a trickle of water—not something acupuncture can cure. Xu Miao states: Greed is the foremost of the three poisons (greed, hatred, delusion), the grave illness that perpetuates the cycle of birth and death. Due to miserly and covetous habits carried over from past lives, it is said to be "long accumulated." "Convergence" (合会) refers to gradual accumulation, while "seeping" (渐渍) describes how water slowly permeates. The habit of greed, accumulated over time, begins subtly and grows gradually—like a disease reaching incurable stages, beyond the reach of acupuncture. Li Rong concludes: Greed can kill, hence it is a grave illness; long nurtured, it becomes ingrained habit. Thus it is said to be long accumulated. It begins subtly, then gradually expands.

Illness develops from minor to severe, often stemming from inner attachments. When the root of disease runs deep, even acupuncture cannot cure it. Like a tree with long-established roots whose branches naturally flourish, such mental afflictions are not physical ailments—how could moxibustion or needles heal them?

The essence of self-cultivation lies in inner purity and preserving one's true nature. Greed is the most stubborn disease of the mind, difficult to eliminate through ordinary means. To uproot it, one must relinquish desire—with no craving, greed naturally dissolves; forgetting the physical body keeps calamity at bay. Maintain pristine clarity, hold fast to the true nature of the Dao (the Way), sit peacefully in Wuwei (non-action), and thus transcend worldly entanglements. Just as scattered leaves return to their roots, returning to the origin is true self-preservation.

The conduct of sages differs from ordinary people. Commoners chase fame, profit, and desires—eyes fixed on sensory pleasures, hearts filled with greed and fixation—yet fall ill and fail to attain the Dao. Sages practice purity and emptiness, their minds unburdened by attachments to deliberate action, naturally free from worldly weights. When the distinctions of "you" and "I" dissolve, what need is there to seek dominion over external things?

"Being" and "non-being" can transform into each other. Originally, we had no physical form, yet by chance acquired a body; if we forget its existence, we return to the state before birth—this is transforming "being" into "non-being." Not clinging to life paradoxically grants eternal vitality—this is turning "non-being" into "being." Ordinary people crave fame, profit, and sensual pleasures, grasping without release, while sages internally relinquish mental distinctions and externally discard empty reputations, transcending the duality of being and non-being. This state allows "being" to return to "non-being" and "non-being" to manifest as "being," freely shifting between the two.

As stated in Chapter Thirteen of the Admonition Scripture (Jing): The warnings and principles in the classics reveal that the dazzling appearance of worldly success pales before the subtle and profound inner truth.

This scripture, through the interpretations of multiple commentators, elucidates the core wisdom of Daoist cultivation and worldly conduct:

Li Rong (Li Yue) notes that the text admonishes people to follow the true meaning of the Dao. Those prominent aristocratic families—when favor reaches its zenith, disgrace follows; after joy comes sorrow. People are often troubled by gain and loss, anxious about rise and fall, when they would be better embracing the Dao in peaceful self-contentment, preserving their pure original nature. Whether withdrawing without appearing withered or advancing without seeking glory, one can roam freely like trees and wild geese—living at ease in the marketplace while maintaining the subtle simplicity of one's essence. Liu Renhui (Liu Yue) adds that conspicuous things inevitably perish, while the subtle endures.

The scripture presents several contrasts: the solid is inferior to the void, the numerous inferior to the sparse. Liu Renhui explains that only when the mind remains pure and free of deluded thoughts can one attain the mystical state of emptiness and stillness; excessive complexity in affairs breeds harm. Xu Daomiao (Xu Yue) elaborates further: expedient cultivation (like heterodox practices) may yield quick results—akin to beseeching spirits for immediate effects—whereas following the true path, though slow, leads to indestructibility and the realm beyond birth and death. Heterodox paths succeed easily but fail just as readily, ultimately unable to escape the cycle of life and death.

What flourishes must decay; what strengthens must decline. Liu Renhui observes this as a universal principle, not limited to human affairs. Sages discard cleverness, engaging the world with Wuwei (non-action). Xu Daomiao clarifies that this means abandoning false wisdom to understand true wisdom as aligning with nature. Liu Renhui adds that without cleverness, one doesn’t pursue flourishing; governing through non-action avoids decline.

True "speech" has no concrete content; true "action" involves no deliberate doing. Xu Daomiao sees this as expounding the philosophy of "wordless Dao" and "effortless doing." Wei Chuxuan (Wei Yue) explains that the Dao itself has no words but manifests to respond to all things; it has no actions but operates to nurture existence. "Ou" (偶) refers to dualistic opposition, while "Qi" (奇) signifies undifferentiated unity—cultivation means relinquishing discrimination to return to the source. Liu Renhui cites Zhuangzi’s ideas: nurturing spirit requires forgetting form; cultivating form demands abandoning desire; pursuing the Dao necessitates releasing attachments.

The conclusion: abundance is inferior to simplicity—who can grasp this principle? Clinging to duality (Ou) is inferior to returning to the source (Qi). This resembles Zhuangzi’s wisdom of "dwelling between wood and wild goose"—neither completely still like trees nor excessively mobile like geese, but walking the Middle Way.

Xu Fayin (one of the annotators) explains: Pursuing breadth is inferior to specializing in essence. Roaming widely to study various schools cannot compare to single-mindedly experiencing the true flavor of the Dao (the Way), maintaining the states of "embracing the One" (focusing on the root) and "guarding the Mysterious" (preserving emptiness and stillness). Thus it is said that excessive knowledge leads to confusion, while focused refinement with fewer desires brings true attainment. Those so-called virtuous scholars who flaunt benevolence, righteousness, chastity, and integrity often chase empty fame at the expense of De (Virtue/Power), easily becoming hypocritical and superficial, making it difficult to genuinely follow the Dao and its Virtue. Therefore: surface-level benevolence can be feigned, justice can be compromised, and ritual easily devolves into pretense.

Li Rong (another annotator) adds: The true state of Wuwei (non-action) is difficult to achieve, and few can comprehend the "non-dual" mind (transcending opposites). Even those with reputations for virtue may inwardly acknowledge the Dao and its Virtue, yet struggle to fully align their actions with them. If benevolence, righteousness, and virtue are already hard to practice, how much more so the profound and mysterious principles of the Dao? Understanding that "non-knowing" (transcending worldly cognition) is the key to grasping the Dao.

If one follows the "teaching without words" (the natural, wordless instruction) and complies with the principle of Wuwei, enlightenment naturally arises. This wisdom appears all-knowing yet transcends ordinary understanding. Only by letting go of the deliberate pursuit of knowledge can one grasp the core mystery of the Dao. What is called "attaining the Dao" is simply comprehending its essential truth.

The annotated editions of Xu, Li, and Liu all mention: When one reaches the supreme state of "emptiness and extinction," even the form of "ascending to immortality" becomes unnecessary. Wei Chuxuan (another annotator) explains: Transcending the labels of benevolence and righteousness and returning to their essence allows gradual approach to the Dao. The "pivotal mechanism" refers to the Dao’s crucial and subtle signs. As one nears the Dao, they realize its essence cannot be fathomed by the mundane mind—it requires continuous relinquishment: first abandoning cleverness, then abandoning emptiness, until reaching absolute nothingness, where true "ascension to immortality" is achieved. Here, "immortal" refers to existence beyond the bonds of life and death.

Those who truly attain the Dao (zhenren, or "perfected beings") penetrate past and present, transform with things, share substance with all beings, and share life with creation. They manifest vitality at all times, roaming freely without obstruction, effortlessly traversing the void and passing through metal and stone. Xu Fayin states: Divine beings (shenren) achieve emptiness and extinction by preserving Shen (spirit) and returning to the root; immortals (xianren) attain bodily ascension through nurturing Shen for longevity. But the highest state transcends the constraints of form—so why cling to the concept of ascension? Liu Renhui (another annotator) concludes: The Dao is boundless, surpassing all limitations. True liberation lies in spontaneous transformation and unimpeded freedom—why wait for ascension to immortality?

This passage elucidates the Daoist understanding of the essence of the "Great Dao" (Da Dao) and the core principles of cultivation. Master Xu explains that the Great Dao is lofty, vast, and boundless. It gives birth to all things yet remains unconstrained by any of them, governs heaven and earth without deliberate action (Wuwei), yet accomplishes everything effortlessly. Master Li adds that the Dao is called "expansive" due to its profound and unfathomable nature, "open" because of its even and boundless quality, "sovereign" as it controls all things, and "encompassing" since it embraces everything in existence.

One who truly comprehends the essence of the Dao can see through worldly illusions—what is commonly deemed good may not be truly good, and what is considered right may not be genuinely right. The scripture advises careful discernment of truth: Who can truly follow the Dao? Master Li clarifies that only with inner tranquility can one perceive in stillness, and only with an empty mind can one penetrate the source of the Dao. Transcending sensory perception and letting go of judgments of right and wrong—this is the profound teaching. Yet most people remain entangled in desires, with few able to rise above them.

In the "Chapter on Profound Mystery," Laozi states that the Dao is deep and mysterious, while the precepts (Jingjie, Daoist ethical codes) are subtle and rigorous. Master Xu points out that heaven attains clarity through the Dao, earth attains peace through the Dao, and all things flourish through the Dao—thus, everything originates from the "One" (the primordial source of the Dao). Master Li explains that transcending thought is "depth," and being immeasurable is "mystery." The "One" is the profound, and "subtlety" is the refined. The scriptures are profound, the precepts are mysterious, and the teachings are exceedingly profound—all demonstrating that heaven, earth, and all beings arise from the Dao.

One who grasps this truth can distinguish reality from illusion—knowing that all things arise from the "One" is true perception, while believing they do not is delusion. If the mind remains unenlightened, even truth manifesting before one’s eyes will go unrecognized. Master Xu cautions that attachment to "existence" or "non-existence" is a sickness—one must transcend such dualities. Master Liu adds that a foolish mind cannot recognize truth even when revealed, and those entangled in excessive action often despise the state of non-action (Wuwei). Bound by such attachments, one may never attain the Dao, even over countless eons.

Laozi said that if one can achieve complete non-attachment and non-striving (Wuwei) in the heart, the Dao (the Way) will naturally be realized. But if desires still linger in the mind, it is like being bound by countless ropes, forever unable to attain liberation.

Master Liu explained that chasing external things leads to entanglement, and the mind of craving flows endlessly like water—how then can liberation be found? The profound teachings of Daoism are subtle and deep, difficult for beginners to grasp fully, but one can start by focusing on the essentials and practicing diligently without deviation.

Master Wei added that since the deeper mysteries of the Dao cannot yet be fully understood, one should first adhere to the simpler precepts and avoid letting the mind wander or indulge. Master Xu pointed out that while the profound Dao is difficult to comprehend entirely, the key is to grasp its core principles: upholding De (Virtue/Power), preserving one’s true nature, following precepts, and avoiding transgressions.

Laozi further clarified that one need not master every word of the esoteric scriptures—what matters is extracting their essence: obeying the teachings, abandoning evil for good, transcending the tangible to enter the realm of emptiness, and cultivating without error. This is true mastery of the classics.

First, one must reduce desires and prevent the mind from becoming scattered. Master Xu explained that restraining passions through discipline begins with diminishing desires. By "blocking the senses" (sealing the gates of perception), external distractions cannot invade; by "closing the mind’s doors," thoughts will not run wild.

In a quiet, solitary place, one should focus on cultivation (jing si, "refined contemplation"), and the most important space is the purified chamber of the heart. Laozi said that freedom from worldly affairs is true leisure, a settled mind is true stillness, single-minded focus is true contemplation, and a cleansed heart is the true purification chamber.

Reading ten thousand volumes of alchemical texts is not as good as holding fast to the root (shou yi, "guarding the One"). Master Xu said that refining various elixirs (such as the Eight Minerals and Ninefold Elixirs) may be wondrous, but they remain mere techniques. Far better is to preserve the innate true nature (yuan yi), the fundamental root—if inner cultivation is not lost, one can endure alongside heaven and earth. Thus, ten thousand volumes of alchemy are not as valuable as guarding the One. Master Liu added that the Dao is attained through continuous reduction, not through complex texts—just hold fast to the root, and the Dao will naturally manifest.

The scriptures are not incomprehensible, but worldly teachings mix truth and falsehood. What is called "existence" may not truly exist, making it hard for beginners to discern; what is called "non-existence" may not truly be nothing, making it hard for beginners to decide. Master Xu explained that though the scriptures are concise, their principles are clear. Worldly teachings are illusory, while Daoist scriptures are true. Yet within truth there is deeper truth—what seems to exist may not truly be, ultimately returning to nothingness; what seems not to exist may not truly be nothing, for it gives rise to existence. Being and non-being transform into each other, without fixed form. Yin Xi (Master Yin), as a beginner, could not yet distinguish or decide. Laozi said that the distinction between real and illusory lies here: to speak of nothingness yet affirm its presence is to treat the illusory as real; to speak of existence yet deny its reality is to treat the real as illusory. To mistake the substantial for the insubstantial is something beginners still struggle to discern.

This scripture discusses how to properly understand opposing concepts like emptiness and substance, good and evil during spiritual cultivation, as well as the progressive methods of practice.

Regarding the relationship between emptiness and substance, the text points out: Ordinary people struggle to truly distinguish what is real from what is illusory. Only those who fully comprehend this principle can genuinely grasp the Dao (the Way). The commentary by Liu explains: While the ultimate truth is universal, its expressions vary. Clinging to literal interpretations of texts causes one to lose the true meaning, while rigid adherence to doctrines leads one astray from the essential teaching. These subtle and profound principles cannot be fully conveyed through language—they must be personally realized through direct experience.

The cultivation process requires methodical progression: Li's commentary emphasizes following the structured steps taught in the scriptures. First, one must eliminate evil thoughts, then even virtuous thoughts should be relinquished; initially one overcomes attachment to "being," then lets go of deliberate "non-action" (Wuwei). Ultimately, one reaches a state beyond attachment to both action and non-action, where distinctions between good and evil dissolve. When deluded thoughts arise, they must be cleared immediately. Liu adds: If one cannot immediately grasp the profound meanings, they should at least practice step-by-step according to the cultivation sequence, avoiding hasty judgments based on worldly thinking.

Concerning the relationship between authentic cultivation and fortune/misfortune: Liu's commentary states that what contradicts the essence of the Dao is "false cultivation," while what aligns with truth constitutes "true cultivation." Natural non-action brings auspiciousness, while forced effort invites misfortune—as the Daode Jing says, "Good fortune rests upon misfortune." Li remarks: Cultivators should maintain impartial minds, unlike ordinary people who harbor selfishness. If one's practice doesn't align with the profound principles, if one remains attached in speech and action, or handles affairs improperly, mistakes are inevitable. True cultivators should be upright and selfless, nurturing the aspiration to benefit the world while sincerely practicing the Dao.

Finally, the text emphasizes returning to original simplicity: Li notes that even with knowledge of past and future or various wisdom, failure is certain if one cannot maintain innate simplicity. Only by returning to primal authenticity can one establish oneself in the world, serve rulers, support parents, and ultimately achieve the Dao. Liu further explains: Excessive thinking breeds worry—pursuing supernatural abilities and wisdom is inferior to preserving one's pure, unadorned nature.

This passage explores core Daoist concepts of cosmogony and spiritual cultivation through the commentaries of several scholars (Wei Chuxuan, Xu Daomiao, Li Rong, and Liu Renhui), who offer diverse perspectives on the relationship between "emptiness" and the Dao.

The cosmogonic sequence unfolds as follows: from Emptiness (a state of absolute void) emerges Spontaneity (naturalness), from Spontaneity arises the Dao (cosmic source), the Dao generates the One (primordial unity), and the One gives birth to the myriad beings. An alternative version states the Dao produces Heaven, Heaven produces Earth, and Earth produces all creatures. Wei Chuxuan explains that both Emptiness and Spontaneity represent formless, imageless states, with the Dao employing the transformative power of the "One" to create heaven, earth, and all things—none of which can exist apart from the Dao's generative function.

All phenomena manifest through subtle and mysterious transformations of Qi (vital energy). Li Rong maintains that heaven, earth, and the myriad beings all originate from this refined Qi, while Xu Daomiao specifically notes that humans receive the most refined Qi, enabling their spiritual capacities. Li Rong emphasizes that the "One"—this unified Qi—constitutes the fundamental basis of all existence.

The text critiques humanity's failure to preserve their most precious possession—the "One" (representing unity with the Dao)—while instead chasing worldly status and material wealth, a case of neglecting the root for the branches. Xu Daomiao identifies this "eternal treasure" as the "One," whereas Liu Renhui interprets it as humanity's true nature (original essence), warning that coveting worldly glory leads to the loss of one's innate authenticity.

In Chapter 16 ("The Chapter on the Indistinct"), Laozi identifies Emptiness and the Indistinct (a state of hazy chaos) as the Dao's source, emphasizing that all things share this fundamental origin in the Dao's primordial state. Here, the text underscores that spiritual cultivation requires returning to this root condition of formless chaos rather than clinging to concrete phenomena.

This passage explores the relationship between "emptiness" (虚无) and the Dao in Daoist cultivation. Emptiness is not absolute nothingness, but rather a state between existence and non-existence, referred to as "the indistinct" (恍惚). From emptiness emerges spontaneity (自然, the universe's primordial state), and from spontaneity arises the Dao. Thus emptiness is the root of the Dao, through which all things come into being - the Dao serves as the origin of all phenomena.

Practitioners must maintain constant awareness of the Dao, silently preserving stillness. Although all things originate from the Dao, sentient beings often become lost in cycles of rebirth. Only by nurturing the Dao within oneself can one transcend life and death. Ordinary people struggle with this, while true cultivators maintain unity with the Dao. The Dao is the primal Qi (元气) of all existence, the foundation of life - its loss brings death. While sages speak sparingly, they expound profound teachings to guide people in nurturing Qi, embracing the Dao, and returning to the source.

By containing primal Qi within the body and embracing the Great Dao, one becomes immune to disasters of water and fire, unharmed by life and death, ultimately attaining authentic realization. Those who understand this principle but fail to practice silent cultivation will lose the Dao.

Chapter Seventeen explains: Laozi states that "emptiness" gives birth to my life, and "non-being" establishes my existence. The formless Qi (虚气) harmonizes and transforms to create my physical form, while the subtle Dao of emptiness generates my primordial spirit (元神, innate consciousness). The real cannot produce the real - only emptiness can generate reality. The finite cannot contain the finite - only the infinite can encompass limitation.

What sustains my life is the primordial spirit; what causes my demise is acquired consciousness. Eternal life lies in the unity of mind with emptiness; enduring existence comes from the fusion of form with formlessness. The primordial spirit, being without form or appearance, nurtures my being; while conscious thought, clinging to action, brings harm. The physical form cannot grow by itself - it requires the primordial spirit's nourishment; the body doesn't perish naturally - it's consciousness that causes death. So long as consciousness refrains from harmful actions, one can endure.

The clinging of intention is precisely the cultivator's downfall. If one reaches the state of no-mind (无心), what remains to worry about? Having intentions creates attachments that bring misfortune, while no-mind brings no knowledge and thus no suffering. Consciousness is the root of desire, and desire begets calamity.

This passage discusses the relationship between the human body and spirit (Shen), and how to cultivate oneself to attain a state free from worry and affliction.

Human discrimination and attachments create various artificial faults, and the accumulation of these faults becomes misfortune. If one can forget these clinging thoughts and return to a state of no-knowledge and no-desire, misfortune naturally disappears. Consider: before we were born, where was this body? The present body is merely a temporary existence formed by the accumulation of Qi and blood.

Master Wei explains this as the cultivation method of "abandoning the form to preserve the spirit (Shen)." Master Xu adds: aversion to this physical body leads to longing for the state of no-body and no-burden before birth. In truth, the physical body formed by accumulated Qi and blood is only a temporary borrowed shell, not worth excessive attachment—the more one clings to it, the more it becomes a burden.

The body is like the vehicle, dwelling, and host of the spirit. Master Xu illustrates with metaphors: just as a horse pulls a cart, the spirit drives the body. The spirit resides in the body as a person dwells in a house—only when the house is intact can the person be at peace, and only when the body is healthy can the spirit be joyful. Thus, wise people nurture their bodies to cultivate the spirit, and through refining the form, they may ascend as immortals. Master Li explains: the body carries the spirit as a cart, hence called "vehicle"; the body houses the spirit as a dwelling, hence called "dwelling"; the spirit comes from beyond to reside within, hence called "host."

When the host (the body) is tranquil, the spirit abides peacefully within; when restless, the spirit departs. Master Xu clarifies: when the body is still, the spirit remains in its inner palaces; when agitated and active, the spirit leaves its abode. Master Li says: only a sturdy cart can bear weight, only a quiet house can host dwellers. If the host clamors and disturbs, how can guests stay long? One must maintain the body's purity, and the spirit will naturally dwell; the mind must be clear, and the spirit will naturally align. When both inner and outer are tranquil, the spirit naturally abides long. If the body is defiled and the mind restless, the spirit departs—this is what is called "the spirit (Shen) leaves." Master Liu states: the spirit's presence is life; its departure is death. Life is attained through stillness, death results from agitation.

Thus, sages lack the attachments of ordinary people—they seek to return to the original state before birth. Master Li points out: ordinary minds are polluted by desires, restless in pursuit, while sages are pure and desireless, free from worldly attachments. A mind chasing external things falls into the cycle of life and death; a mindless return to the origin allows one to return to the true Dao (Dao), transcending life and death. Master Liu calls this the state of "serene nothingness."

Consider: before birth, where was the body? Since there was originally no body, what is there to worry about or crave? Master Wei concludes: all desires and anxieties arise from excessive attachment to this physical form and overemphasis on survival.

While humans live, they inevitably face various troubles, but if one could return to the state before birth, where would such worries exist? Li Rong (commentator) explains: Only after birth does the physical form emerge - before birth, there was originally no body. With a body comes the arrival of countless troubles, and desires continuously arise; without a body, all burdens disappear, and a thousand sorrows dissipate. When even the troubles of the body no longer exist, how much less should disasters beyond the body concern us?

Therefore, those who can regard their bodies lightly while preserving their spirit (Shen) will maintain their vital essence (Jing) and energy (Qi) eternally. When human virtue (De) unites with the Dao, one becomes connected with the Way. Wei Chuxuan (commentator) clarifies: The radiance of essence and energy constitutes a person's divine spirit. Those who regard their bodies lightly prevent their vital essence from departing their form. When essence remains constant, human virtue naturally unites with the Dao. United with the Dao, one becomes connected with the Great Way. Xu Daomiao (commentator) adds: Distance yourself from this body that's like a temporary lodging, while drawing near and cherishing the divine spirit that gives us life. Maintain inner emptiness and stillness, keep the physical form tranquil, and guard the authentic spirit - thus the mysterious essence will permanently reside within, connecting with the Dao. This is what's meant by "the body of no-body."

Li Rong further elaborates: Those seeking longevity and cultivating the Dao must relinquish attachment to the body, refrain from excessive pursuit of material comforts, and first preserve their spirit internally while concentrating on the Great Dao. In that subtle state between existence and non-existence, wisdom naturally manifests, with spiritual radiance illuminating everything. Hence it's said "the radiance of essence and energy endures." If one can maintain this state of wisdom, they unite with the Great Dao, attaining virtue without striving for virtue, becoming connected with emptiness. Therefore it states "connected with the Dao."

In Chapter 18 "On Cultivating the Dao," Laozi states: The ancient practitioners of Dao all attained it through naturalness. Li Rong explains: Ancient cultivators all possessed natural virtue (De) and self-cultivation, their minds pure and desireless - they required no teacher's instruction to practice Dao naturally, without exception. Those who force their practice conversely fail to attain it.

Thus the Dao is eternally natural - forced pursuit leads to failure. Liu Renhui (commentator) explains: Not acting intentionally, forced action constitutes intention, hence it fails. Li Rong supplements: Concentrating spirit (Shen) and quieting energy (Qi) to unite with Dao, being desireless to preserve true nature - persistence in this leads to attainment of natural Dao. If external conduct remains unrectified and inner cultivation neglected, forced attempts to attain Dao will ultimately prove unsuccessful.

Why is this so? Because intentional thought runs counter to the Great Dao. Liu Renhui explains: Why does forcing lead to failure? Because the Dao involves no deliberation - intentional pursuit contradicts it. Like the bellows or flute instruments, their essence lies in emptiness. (Xu Daomiao's note: The yue is a six-holed instrument resembling the chi flute. This illustrates how implements function through their emptiness.)

This scripture employs metaphors to elucidate the way of the sage in navigating worldly affairs. It first uses the image of a bellows (tuoyue) as an analogy: though hollow in itself, the bellows produces varying sounds according to human operation—just as the sage maintains inner emptiness and stillness yet responds appropriately to external needs. The sage does not contend with the myriad things, much like how the bellows does not produce sound on its own, yet ultimately all harmonious sounds originate from it.

The text then explains the importance of "desirelessness": desires are the root of calamity (xionghai zhi gen), while the state of emptiness (wu) constitutes the origin of heaven and earth (tiandi zhi yuan). Ordinary people indulge in sensory pleasures (shengse ziwei), unaware that these are precisely the greatest source of misfortune (huo zhi dapu). The sage cultivates body and mind by abandoning desires (qu yu) to enter the realm of emptiness (ru wu).

Annotations by Wei Yingwu and Li Rong supplement this teaching: Heaven follows the nature of all things without coercion, and so does the sage. The truly virtuous person (shanxing junzi) contends with nothing externally while maintaining humility and desirelessness internally—thus virtue naturally accumulates. However, only sages can truly use the Dao (yi dao fuyi ci shen) to protect themselves, while ordinary people must emulate the sage's conduct to approach the Dao.

Finally, it points out: sensory pleasures may seem delightful, but they are actually disguises that obscure one's true nature (dapu referring to original authenticity). Indulgence in them leads to losing the genuine Dao.

Indulging in sensual pleasures may seem like the greatest joy, but desire is actually the root of calamity. Excessive sensory indulgence causes people to lose their innate nature. Just as rich flavors corrupt the palate and beautiful sights blind the eyes, these harms don’t come from external forces—they arise from within. History shows how the tyrants Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang brought ruin to their kingdoms through unrestrained desires. Is this not the bitter fruit of abandoning one’s simple, authentic nature? Thus, true sages reject desires and return to the original state of non-attachment.

Only sages can maintain inner clarity and desirelessness, abiding in serene wuwei (non-action). In this way, disasters find no foothold, chaos cannot arise, and universal harmony is ultimately achieved. This is the state of returning to the Dao—casting off the roots of misfortune and reconnecting to the source of De (Virtue/Power).

In Chapter 20 of the "Emptiness of Dao" section, Laozi reveals: The Dao itself is a formless existence, seemingly void yet manifesting substance, appearing insubstantial yet giving birth to all things. This emptiness is not absolute nothingness, but rather contains the subtle marvel of formless forms and bodiless bodies. Like the sky’s purity that holds the clear yang Qi (vital energy), these energies descend to nurture all beings, allowing each to manifest its unique shape.

When heaven’s and earth’s Qi intertwine, the myriad things are born. Though sharing the same origin, their manifestations vary endlessly. Sages understand this principle: The Dao’s essence is mysterious and undifferentiated. Though heaven and earth differ in clarity and turbidity, both follow the law of "guarding the One" (maintaining fundamental unity). Thus, sages emulate the Dao’s way—their minds become like empty space, free from knowledge or desire. In unity with the Dao, even the concept of form dissolves. Just as the four seasons turn without deliberate effort, the sage’s cultivation embodies spontaneous wuwei.

(Note: "Guarding the One" (Shouyi) is a key Daoist practice—maintaining focused awareness and returning to the source. "Mysterious One" (Xuanyi) refers to the Dao’s primordial state, the undifferentiated unity before yin-yang division.)

The body merges with emptiness and formlessness—only the absence of concrete form constitutes the true original substance. Liu's commentary explains: Only by dissolving into primordial chaos can one reach the profound and wondrous state, for the true original substance is formless. Upon attaining this state, one becomes completely aligned with the Dao of Heaven.

Liu's commentary further states: To propagate the great Dao (the Way) lies within oneself—the key is to master one's will and thoughts, returning to a state of pure contemplation. Li's commentary adds: To share the same heart with all people yet hold no discriminating thoughts, to embody the same substance as the great Dao yet remain unattached to form. If one can harmonize with heavenly virtue (De) and unite with the Dao in truth, this is what is called the flourishing of the heavenly Dao.

How then can one reach this state of unity with the heavenly Dao? One must regulate the mind to return it to intentionlessness and purify contemplation by eliminating scattered thoughts. Liu's commentary clarifies: What is called "no-mind" means relinquishing attachments without deliberate pursuit, maintaining stillness without forced effort. Xu's commentary elaborates: To follow external phenomena without clinging—though seeming to depart, there is nothing to chase; to preserve a formless essence—though seeming to remain, there is nothing to retain.

The profound Dao originates beyond the Wuji (the Limitless, the cosmic source), with no end that can be exhausted. Liu's commentary notes: It is vast and boundless. Yet the Dao that is near at hand within oneself remains unseen by people. Liu explains: It is subtle and formless.

Thus, those who attain the Dao neither look nor listen all day, neither speak nor eat, while inwardly maintaining awakened awareness and embracing the mysterious. Li's commentary states: The noble person who cultivates the Dao withdraws the senses, severs sight and hearing, guards speech, avoids indulging in fine foods, and observes with an empty heart—this is called "inner knowing." Preserving this subtle state is what is meant by "embracing the mysterious."

When you wish to see, there is truly nothing to be seen; when you wish to hear, there is truly nothing to be heard; when you wish to speak, there is truly nothing to say; when you wish to eat, there is truly no flavor to taste. Xu's commentary explains: Realizing emptiness transcends illusion, understanding that form is ultimately unreal; forgetting the dust of the world, what then is there to speak of? Li's commentary adds: Awakening to the emptiness of all phenomena, the mind naturally becomes still.

In utmost serenity and tranquility, there is nothing left to savor, ultimately returning to the state of no-thing. Wei's commentary clarifies: Forgetting external sights and sounds severs the desires of seeing and hearing; forgetting internal thoughts dissolves the cravings for speech and food. Only when desires both within and without are extinguished can one reach perfect serenity and return to the state of no-thing. Li's commentary concludes: Free from restless agitation, returning to the realm of non-action (Wuwei)—this state of serene tranquility is the path of returning to no-thing.

If one can constantly maintain purity and non-action, there is no need for deliberate pursuit—one will naturally return to the origin. Liu's commentary states: Those who understand the true Dao do not attain it through contrivance. Returning to the state of no-body before birth. Li's commentary explains: When neither internal nor external is defiled, this is called purity; calming the spirit (Shen) and quieting contemplation—this is non-action.

The Xisheng Jing Jizhu passage expounds the principles of self-cultivation. Wuwei (non-action, following nature without forced effort) enables one's Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) to merge with the void, returning to the state before birth, where the body becomes one with nature—thus transcending physical limitations.

By preserving the body through the Dao of Wuwei, physical form remains intact. Master Xu explains: Maintaining purity through non-action and nourishing oneself with De (Virtue) allows internal harmony to be restored, thereby preserving the body. When the celestial and earthly Jing-Qi fills your form, longevity is naturally sustained. Master Wei adds: When the Dao's power returns to oneself, physical form is forgotten; forgetting form allows De to unite with heaven and earth. Just as heaven and earth don't pursue longevity yet endure eternally, so too does the body remain whole without forced preservation, and life extends without deliberate pursuit.

In Chapter 21, "On Compassion," Laozi states: Pitying others is inferior to pitying oneself. Master Xu clarifies: Here, "compassion" implies lamentation—rather than mourning worldly people who lose their true nature, practitioners should grieve their own failure to cultivate Shen (spirit) and safeguard body-mind. Yet pitying oneself is secondary to cherishing the primordial Shen. Master Xu observes: Indulging in the six desires (arising from senses and mind) depletes the primordial Shen and damages innate nature.

Master Li further elaborates: Even while cherishing Shen, if still enslaved by worldly toils, harm remains inevitable. Superior is "containing the Shen"—externally unattached and untainted, internally free of thought and worry, pure both inwardly and outwardly, allowing Shen to naturally return and abide within. But mere containment is insufficient. Master Li emphasizes: Though wondrous, Shen still requires the body as its vessel. Preserving Shen without guarding the body leaves it homeless when the form decays. To sustain Shen eternally, one must first protect the body. This requires internal-external purity, unity with the Dao, comprehension of mystery, and attainment of ultimate emptiness—maintaining the trinity of Jing, Qi, and Shen to merge with the true spirit.

Master Liu concludes: Those driven by desires remain ordinary; shedding desires reveals the true self. "Compassion" here means treasuring; "cherishing Shen" values the root, while "containing Shen" embodies deeper nourishment. Only through such bodily preservation can enduring existence be realized.

This passage discusses the interdependent relationship between form (the body) and spirit (Shen), emphasizing the importance of cultivating both physical and spiritual well-being.

The spirit is like the master residing within the house of the body. Only when the body is calm can the spirit find peace. If the body is restless and agitated, the spirit cannot settle. Harmony and unity between form and spirit are essential for human longevity. Just as a guest does not wander alone but must rely on a host, the spirit also depends on the body for its existence. Thus, the body is the foundation of the spirit, much like the host is the foundation of the guest. To nurture the spirit, one must first safeguard the body; to retain the guest, one must treat the host well. Therefore, the scripture states: "To nourish the spirit is not as important as guarding the body."

Laozi said: "The spirit gives rise to the form, and the form completes the spirit." Chongxuzi explains that the spirit is the active force that shapes the body—without this force, the body cannot grow. Conversely, the body is the vessel that sustains the spirit—without this vessel, the spirit cannot take form. Liu Chuxuan adds that without the spirit, the body cannot develop on its own, and without the body, the spirit cannot achieve its purpose.

A body without spirit cannot grow independently, nor can a spirit without a body manifest alone. Chongxuzi states that the body relies on the spirit to develop, while the spirit is contained within the body to become visible—if form and spirit are not in harmony, neither can come into being. Liu Chuxuan further elaborates: "The spirit, through transformation, gives rise to different bodily forms—thus, the body cannot grow on its own. Conversely, different bodily forms enable the functions of the spirit—thus, the spirit cannot fulfill its role alone."

Form and spirit work in tandem, mutually supporting each other’s growth and fulfillment. Chongxuzi says they depend on and complete one another. Liu Chuxuan observes: "Though form and spirit are distinct, they must rely on each other to exist—without unity, neither can be realized. The spirit operates through the body, while the body grows because of the spirit. When the body’s functions are evident, it is the result of the spirit’s activity—at this point, we may say the spirit gives rise to the form. When the spirit’s functions are prominent, they are manifested through the body—at this point, we may say the form completes the spirit. Thus, the two generate and fulfill each other."

The spirit always cares for humanity, yet people often neglect their spirit. Li Rong explains: "Since the spirit resides within a person, it desires that person’s survival; likewise, people depend on their spirit and need it to remain steadfast. To maintain this bond, one must cultivate the body and purify the mind. Only those who practice this way truly cherish their spirit. Sadly, most people today are mired in impurity and refuse to refine their body and nurture their nature."

This passage discusses how Daoist practitioners should approach "Shen" (referring to the innate spirit within the human body, encompassing essence, Qi, and spiritual consciousness). Liu's commentary explains that the divine nature inherently cares for humanity, wishing people to maintain inner tranquility. However, if one fails to cherish this divine endowment and excessively depletes their vital spirit, they will become trapped in endless toil.

Thus, genuine Dao cultivators must relinquish worldly cleverness and return to a state of pristine simplicity. Li's commentary further elaborates: True sages (those who have realized the Dao) originally possess no vain reputation; since there is no fame to pursue, there is nothing to "abandon." Great wisdom appears as foolishness—since wisdom and foolishness become indistinguishable, there is nothing to "discard." The "abandonment" mentioned here refers to rejecting worldly intelligence that brings burdens of fame and achievement, as well as cunning thoughts that create discrimination. For discriminatory thinking exhausts the spirit, while chasing empty fame harms the body. When body and mind are damaged, form and spirit disperse—this is the consequence of neglecting one's divine nature and failing to guard one's true self, representing artificial striving that deviates from the Dao.

Chapter 23 speaks of the state of "constant peace." Laozi states that sages (Dao-realized beings) eternally abide in serenity, sharing harmony with heaven and earth while communing with spirits. Li's commentary explains: Sages internally dissolve mental distinctions and externally release attachment to physical form, merging with profound stillness. The transformations of Yin-Yang cannot shake them; the rise and fall of worldly affairs cannot alter them. Because their mysterious virtue (De) remains eternally clear and tranquil, they are called "constantly at peace." They embrace all things like heaven and earth, share the pure nature of spirits, penetrate all subtle mysteries, and never fall into hardship or dead ends.

What ordinary people call "peace," however, is built upon impermanent changes. Wei's commentary notes: Those who consider survival as peace will be unsettled by death; those who equate wealth with peace will be disturbed by poverty. Liu observes that those clinging to artificial striving will inevitably face hardship when their supports collapse.

The Dao's principle is to reduce the full, replenish the empty, weaken the strong, and strengthen the weak. Like drawing a bow requires balance: the sun declines after reaching its zenith, the moon wanes after becoming full, excessive Yang turns to decline, and extreme Yin transforms to weakness. Sages emulate this heavenly pattern by practicing equality—diminishing surplus to supplement deficiency, restraining the powerful to support the weak.

Dao practitioners should lessen intellectual striving and return to childlike purity, blocking cunning artifice to embody the sage's unadorned nature. Chong's commentary states: Excessive scheming breeds deceit; intricate plotting fosters thieving minds. Just as rare treasures attract robbers, hypocrisy fuels deception. Therefore, reduce these tendencies and return to innocent simplicity. Childlike simplicity is not true ignorance but the essence of Wuwei (non-action).

This passage elucidates the core principles of cultivating the Dao and nurturing life. It first observes that just as fire consumes itself, excessive display of wisdom only disturbs external phenomena. One should close off deviant forms of wisdom and open oneself to upright, authentic wisdom. Only then can false cultivation methods find no foothold, allowing the true Dao methods to flourish widely.

The commentary by Liu (referring to annotator Liu Renhui) explains: Restraining anger and moderating desires, using the correct path to nurture an untutored heart, and eliminating all external cleverness and scheming—these constitute the sage's method for preserving original simplicity.

The scripture then employs the metaphor of "nourishing the mother": All things under heaven depend on the Dao for their existence, thus we may say the Dao is like the mother who nurtures all beings. By consistently cherishing this "mother" (i.e., maintaining the Great Dao), one's life can endure long.

Liu's commentary further elaborates: Our fundamental life source is the "Shen" (referring to the primordial spirit). Only when free from desire's disturbances can the heart-mind attain tranquility, thereby truly nurturing life's root. Another commentator, Li Rong, adds: Just as filial piety comes first in serving one's parents, cultivating body and nature must take the Dao as foundation. A truly filial child excels at caring for parents, just as a Dao cultivator should excel at nurturing the primordial spirit and maintaining the Dao—only then can one achieve true cultivation and immortality. Therefore, by cherishing the "Dao Mother" as life's source and uniting with the Dao, one naturally attains enduring life.

The "Chapter on Body and Mind" in the Collected Commentaries on the Western Ascension Scripture explores the wisdom of self-cultivation and governance. Laozi states: When the body attains a state of emptiness, all things naturally return to it; when the mind reaches a thoughtless state, harmonious Qi (vital energy) naturally gathers.

Wei Chuxuan (Daoist name Chongxuanzi) explains: The body aligning with the Dao is the "emptiness of the body," while the mind connecting with heaven is the "nothingness of the mind." When the body is empty, all things come of their own accord; when the mind is thoughtless, harmony returns naturally. Thus, emptiness and nothingness are the most profound manifestations of Wuwei (non-action).

Those skilled in self-cultivation are able to conceal their talents without revealing them (hiding the self) and blend into the mundane world without displaying wisdom or virtue (hiding among others). When a noble person governs a state, they must first achieve "dying to the state"—Liu Renhui explains that "dying" here refers to forgetting, specifically forgetting one's identity as a ruler. Though positioned above the masses, they do not consider themselves noble; though possessing the wealth of the realm, they do not covet personal gain. They neither pursue extravagant pleasures nor indulge in arrogance and excess. In this way, the people are spared heavy labor, and the state's resources are not depleted. When the people are at peace, the state is stable; when reserves are abundant, the state prospers—this is the foundation of governance.

Liu Renhui elaborates further: What seems like forgetting is actually possessing (forgetting yet having); governing through Wuwei (non-action) unexpectedly brings prosperity to the state. When the people can live contentedly, enjoying their food and clothing (savoring food and fine garments), there is no need for excessive intervention (no need to interact). Li Rong (Daoist name Renzhenzi) adds: Those who cultivate themselves must forget the existence of their physical form, while those who govern must embrace emptiness and stillness, their virtue as encompassing as the sky. Only by first "forgetting the state" can one achieve "not losing the state." By reducing burdens and taxes, the people live in peace and joy, and governance naturally attains harmony.

This scripture primarily discusses the contrasting life perspectives and attitudes toward existence between spiritual cultivators and worldly people.

Worldly individuals pursue material pleasures, indulging in sensory desires, believing this brings happiness. Yet excessive indulgence actually damages the fundamental life essence (Jing), leading to shortened lifespans. It's like people obsessively accumulating wealth, hoarding grain, and expanding armaments, thinking this strengthens a nation, unaware such actions violate the natural Dao.

The true Dao (cosmic origin) resembles the vastness of "all under heaven" - continuous, profound, and ineffable, beyond ordinary comprehension or verbal description. The more one tries to intellectually grasp it, the further it recedes; the more one attempts to possess it through desire, the more distant it becomes.

Therefore, the perfected sages (those who have attained cultivation) neither rely on worldly power, nor depend on ghostly spirits, nor attach themselves to external things. They take "emptiness" (a state of clarity) as their fundamental existence and "non-attachment" (Wuwei) as their mental realm. When one achieves this state of forgetting worldly affairs and turning the mind toward emptiness, even without consciously seeking the Dao, one naturally merges with it.

This state of "body beyond body" (transcending physical form) and "mind beyond mind" (original consciousness beyond thought) constitutes the true way of preserving spirit (Shen). Concepts mentioned like "profound virtue" (Xuande) and "Supreme Ultimate" (Taiji) all point to that ultimate reality beyond appearances.

This passage elucidates the essential Daoist practice of "guarding the spirit" (守神). Laozi teaches that true wisdom lies beyond excessive calculation and scheming. The state of "guarding the spirit" means maintaining mental emptiness (a clarity free from attachments) — regarding the body as formless and thoughts as thoughtless. When one attains this state, both body and mind dissolve into emptiness, naturally merging with the great Dao.

Commentator Li Rong explains: Ordinary people are driven by desires, while the intelligent easily become entangled in scheming. Therefore, the sages admonish that the wise should relinquish clever calculations, preserving inner and outer purity. When distinctions between self and others vanish, and body-mind achieves serene tranquility, all things naturally coexist in harmony.

The scripture further observes: Those obsessed with political machinations often covet worldly treasures to satisfy selfish desires. Their relentless pursuit of profit resembles the allegory of "making enemies of all fellow passengers on a boat" (a classical allusion to self-destructive greed), ultimately bringing chaos and disaster. Another commentator, Liu Renhui, adds that such covetousness leads to national turmoil and exhausted populace.

Conversely, nourishing all things through Daoist principles and pacifying distant lands through civilizing influence allows people to live contentedly without conscious effort. Reducing selfishness and valuing basic sustenance over material luxuries ("prizing grain over gold" signifies valuing fundamental needs above wealth) forms the foundation for governing states and cultivating oneself. Commentator Wei Chuxuan emphasizes that true "spirit-guarding" isn't about abandoning physical form, but about mutual nourishment between spirit and body, thereby achieving unity with the profound Dao.

For a nation to achieve stability and harmony, the key lies in governing through Wuwei (non-action, governing by following natural principles). If desires are indulged, luxury and pleasure pursued, and competitiveness encouraged, it will lead to incessant border conflicts, frequent military mobilizations, and intensified internal strife. When rulers are foolish and unprincipled, and ministers disloyal and corrupt, the state will descend into chaos. If labor conscription never ceases, exhausting the people—since the nation is rooted in its citizens—once the populace can no longer bear the burden, they will flee, leaving the country a hollow shell.

The same principle applies to Daoist cultivation: the body is rooted in Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy). When the spirit is tranquil and Qi is consolidated, longevity is attainable. But if the mind is overworked and Qi depleted, the spirit dissipates and vitality scatters, leading to physical decline. Governing a nation fundamentally requires ensuring the people’s contentment—when they are at ease, they stay; when in peril, they flee. A nation’s rise or fall depends on the people’s loyalty; their dispersal signifies its decline. Only by cherishing the people with the Dao can a country endure.

Life is more precious than ten thousand pieces of gold. When Shen remains and Qi is gathered, life is boundless; when Shen perishes and Qi scatters, life ends. Thus, abandoning the Dao of Wuwei (the natural way) is like discarding a priceless treasure, while resorting to "action" (forced intervention) is like wielding sharp axes—external "six thieves" (temptations of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and thought) invade, while internal "three poisons" (greed, anger, and delusion) fester, harming a person more severely than an army. Blades injure the body, but desire destroys one’s innate nature.

Therefore, sages govern through Wuwei, avoiding forced action and unnecessary interference, so the people may live in peace. Without selfish cravings, there is no reckless action; without warmongering, there is no strife. Free from oppression and forced labor, the people naturally find tranquility—this is the sage’s way of teaching.

Thus it is said: Comprehending the "One" (the essence of the Dao) brings mastery over all things. To understand the supreme Dao in one’s heart is to know the "One"; to cultivate perfection and attain merit is to realize the true Dao. When one reaches the state of desirelessness, De (virtue) manifests spontaneously, and even spirits submit in awe.

Xu Fayun explains: The "One" mentioned here refers to the True One (the origin of Dao), while "De" (Virtue) denotes the constant virtue. Those who truly understand the "One" do not cling to the concept of "One" itself. Precisely because they remain unattached, they can accomplish all things. The void (the realm of Dao) has no subjective consciousness, yet constant virtue naturally abides within it. Therefore, it can govern heaven and earth, embrace all things, command awe that shakes myriad spirits, and make even ghosts and deities submit in reverence.

The internal "ghost" refers to Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). The True One represents the ultimate state, while constant virtue embodies the most precious quality—they form the root of Shen (spirit) and the source of Dao's Qi. Thus when the spirit is subdued, all Qi naturally follows. Li Rong states: Sages harbor no selfish desires, preserving Dao within themselves and containing De within their being—hence the term "retained stillness." When applying Dao, its influence spreads far and wide; when embodying De, its blessings extend to both yin and yang realms. They become humanity's refuge while simultaneously subduing ghosts and deities. Liu Renhui remarks: Deliberately pursuing De leads to its loss, hence the scripture states "superior De does not appear as De, therefore it possesses true De." Ghosts and spirits cannot work evil, thus they are "subdued."

Chapter 26: My Life Is My Own

Laozi says: My life belongs to myself, not subject to heaven and earth.

Li Rong explains: Heaven and earth have no selfish intentions, allowing all things to follow their natural course. How could the length of life be determined by heaven and earth? It entirely depends on human conduct—good or evil actions determine favorable or adverse fate. If one nourishes body and mind with Dao and sustains life with Qi, continuous breath maintains life, and Dao within ensures natural longevity—hence "not subject to heaven and earth."

Without looking, listening, or thinking, the Shen remains within the body, enabling eternal coexistence with Dao. Li Rong continues: Not looking prevents confusion by colors; not listening avoids disturbance by sounds; not thinking eliminates entanglement by cleverness. Abandoning sensory stimuli preserves purity; eliminating discrimination achieves Wuwei (non-action). When Shen never leaves the body, when form and spirit merge, when life unites with Dao—then one attains permanence. The phrase "not subject to heaven and earth" describes this state of Dao union through cultivation. Liu Renhui adds: Disregarding the functions of ears and eyes, forgetting the deliberations of mind—when spirit never departs from its origin, one aligns with constant Dao.

I share primordial Qi with heaven and earth yet operate independently, each maintaining its foundation. Wei Chuxuan clarifies: Both heaven/earth and I receive natural primordial Qi for existence—we remain autonomous. How could heaven and earth control my life? Simply eliminate mental activities, sever sensory desires, and preserve one's original Qi to achieve lasting unity with Dao. Zhuangzi's statement "Heaven and earth coexist with me; all things unite with me" expresses this very principle.

Laozi states that all things depend on the Dao (cosmic origin) for their existence, and that the Three Powers of heaven, earth, and humanity all stem from the same primordial Qi. Yet people often chase after trivialities, thereby harming the root of life. The Lord Lao (Laozi) adheres to the fundamental Way, and thus attains the Great Dao. If people can emulate the conduct of sages and reach the ultimate state of emptiness, they will naturally realize the Dao.

This does not mean performing good deeds as ordinary people do, nor deliberately pursuing benevolence and righteousness, nor displaying loyalty and trustworthiness, nor feigning reverence, nor indulging in desires. All things will naturally benefit. As Li Rong comments: Deliberate acts of goodness inevitably seek fame, while wrongdoing invites punishment. Sages transcend these superficial distinctions and thus do not practice goodness in the conventional way. The benevolent may sacrifice themselves for others, while the righteous assert themselves by criticizing others—yet sages cultivate life without harming their innate nature. Loyalty and trust are mere embellishments of the Dao; sages discard false ornamentation in favor of substance. Filial piety is not innate, nor are rituals expressions of utmost sincerity—outward reverence masking inner cruelty is not true virtue. Desire is the root of calamity, and attachment the beginning of affliction; if one cannot even settle oneself, how can one attain the Dao? Sages remain pure and untainted by attachment. Harming nothing, benefit naturally follows.

Maintain serenity and Wuwei (non-action), and the Great Dao will naturally return. Li Rong explains: The behaviors mentioned earlier all stem from deliberate striving. The Lord Lao embraces Dao and De (Virtue), serene and free from contrivance, and by abiding in this state, he attains perfection (realization of the Dao). Liu Renhui adds: Seeking benefit through force invites external disturbances, while Wuwei allows the Great Dao to return.

Thus, the divine person (one who attains the Dao) does not display brilliance, and the sage (one who attains the Dao) does not seek fame. Liu Renhui explains: Inner radiance remains unmanifested, and profound virtue appears no different from that of ordinary people. Li Rong says: When united with the Great Dao, one becomes capable of all things—unfathomable transformation is called "divine," and penetrating wisdom is called "sage." The sage does not deliberately seek divinity but abides in Wuwei; though wisdom is luminous, the spirit remains still, thus brilliance is not displayed; concealing form and action, fame is not pursued.

On Warfare (Chapter 27):

Laozi states: Warfare is the most ominous affair under heaven, not a treasure of the state. Liu Renhui comments: War harms all things, leading to the ruin of nations and families—there is no greater calamity. How can it be called a national treasure?

Those who truly value it do not use it lightly. Wei Chuxuan explains: Governing the world through the Dao of Wuwei brings natural peace, rendering arms unnecessary—this is the true treasure of the state. Why resort to such an inauspicious instrument of violence? Liu Renhui adds: The treasure of the state lies in not resorting to weapons.

This passage primarily discusses the perils of military strategies and the attitude of sages toward worldly affairs.

Those who resort to force often invite the calamity of losing their states and people. The commentary by Li explains that while quelling chaos indeed requires military power, if one can employ arms with a benevolent heart, self-restraint can be maintained during warfare. Yet the nature of war is killing—an ominous undertaking that should not be considered a treasure of statecraft. Those who truly cherish their nation will not lightly resort to arms, for the use of force inevitably leads to national decline and the scattering of people, representing the gravest danger. The commentary by Liu further emphasizes that pacifying the world should be achieved through Wuwei (non-action), and military action should only be a last resort.

Therefore, the sages (those who have attained the Dao) uphold the subtle and profound methods of the Dao, preserving their original simple nature without forceful striving or contending with worldly people for fame and profit. The commentary by Chong explains that sages maintain inner emptiness and Wuwei (non-action), holding fast to Dao and De (Virtue), abstaining from worldly competition. The commentary by Li adds that sages preserve the essential teachings of the great Dao without losing their simple nature, ceasing warfare and killing, thus naturally avoiding contention with the world. The commentary by Liu stresses that those without desires cannot be harmed by external things—just as fierce beasts cannot harm a compassionate father, and venomous creatures cannot injure a sage, because their De (Virtue) resonates with the mysterious Dao.

The commentary by Wei further elaborates: when De (Virtue) fills heaven and earth, becoming one with the cosmos, even fierce beasts and weapons become mere dust upon one's body—how could they cause harm?

Chapter 28, "On Softness and Weakness," states: nothing in the world is softer and weaker than Qi (vital energy), yet the Dao is even softer and weaker than Qi. The commentary by Liu explains that although Qi is soft and weak, it undergoes gathering and dispersion, while the Dao as the fundamental substance remains eternally unchanging. The commentary by Wei adds that the Dao's softness and weakness stem from its capacity to encompass heaven and earth and penetrate all things. Heaven and earth exist within emptiness, yet this emptiness itself neither accumulates nor changes.

The Dao (the Way) of emptiness (referring to the fundamental law of the cosmos) can encompass all of heaven and earth—even solid metal and stone cannot obstruct its movement. Precisely because of the Dao’s soft and yielding nature, it can permeate and penetrate all things in the world. The commentator Liu remarks: If it were not soft and yielding, how could it encompass and penetrate everything?

Softness gives rise to hardness, and weakness gives rise to strength, yet people often fail to grasp this fundamental principle. The commentator Wei explains: Softness and weakness refer to the Dao and primordial Qi (vital energy), while hardness and strength refer to heaven, earth, and the myriad things—their root lies in the natural Dao. Liu further elaborates: The essence of hardness and strength actually originates from softness and weakness. All things follow this principle, yet people do not understand this truth. It is like what Confucius said: "Human nature and the Dao of heaven cannot be fully expressed in words."

The sequence of cosmic generation is as follows: All tangible things take "non-being" as their mother, "non-being" takes "emptiness" as its mother, and "emptiness" takes the "Dao" as its mother. Natural Wuwei (non-action) is the root of the Dao. The commentator Li provides a detailed explanation: All tangible things emerge from "non-being," so "non-being" is their mother. Yet "non-being" itself arises from absolute emptiness. This invisible source comes from "emptiness," making "emptiness" an even more fundamental mother. However, "emptiness" itself is silent and still—to flow freely without obstruction, it must rely on the Dao to propel it. The Dao is neither being nor non-being, neither substance nor void. It has no beginning or end and is not artificially created—it can only be called "natural." The Dao’s natural essence is its foundation. This generative sequence demonstrates how "non-being" gives birth to "being," layer upon layer, ultimately confirming that softness and weakness give rise to hardness and strength. Liu concludes: From the superficial to the profound, its mystery is unfathomable—hence it is called "natural."

Chapter 29 discusses human lifespan. Laozi states: The reason people die prematurely is entirely self-inflicted—it is not that heaven and earth seek to destroy them, nor is it the work of ghosts and spirits. Wei comments: The fundamental nature of heaven and earth is to nurture life—why would they harm people without cause? When the Dao governs the world, even ghosts and spirits cannot manifest their influence to cause harm. The reason people die young is because they excessively rely on cunning, indulge their desires, exhaust their bodies, and deplete their Shen (spirit), thus meeting an untimely end. Liu adds: Once cunning arises, it drives the body to chase after desires, leading to self-destruction—what does this have to do with ghosts and spirits?

Therefore, one must understand that "non-being" gives rise to "being," and the "formless" gives birth to the "formed." Since all things emerge from non-being into being, how much more should those already accomplished avoid self-destruction?

Master Xu explains: Before birth, humans originally had no form, existing only in the undifferentiated chaos. Later, primordial Qi transformed to generate vital energy (Qi), which further transformed to create physical form. It was through the transformation of form that life emerged. If one cannot maintain a state of purity and non-action (Wuwei), nor nurture the spirit (Shen) and safeguard the body, how can one achieve longevity and enduring vision? Moreover, after life takes form, improper nurturing and reckless actions invite transgressions that corrupt the established body. Even virtuous deeds may fail to preserve life if cultivation is neglected, leading to premature death.

Master Liu elaborates: The heart-mind is originally pure and non-acting, but emotional desires stir its tranquility; the spiritual body is formless by nature, yet attachment to appearances gives it shape. Even formless, desireless states can generate longing for form—how much more so will deliberate actions lead to failure?

To attain longevity, one must sever desires. When the mind completely relinquishes attachments, life returns to its authentic state. Master Li adds: Indulging desires harms the body; renouncing them prolongs life. Eliminate all willful thoughts until internal and external purity are achieved, and the mind naturally settles into stillness. Lifespan depends not on external things but self-cultivation—hence the teaching to "return to the source."

When body and spirit unite harmoniously, enduring existence follows naturally. Master Liu emphasizes: To preserve life and avoid premature death, purge desires until the mind achieves perfect clarity. Only then does life return to its essence—there is no other way. "Exhaustive elimination" means utterly eradicating desires. Master Li notes: When the ethereal and corporeal souls (Hun and Po) depart, death follows; only by uniting spirit and form can life be extended.

Chapter Thirty of the Scripture records Laozi’s words: Though the body dwells in the world, let not the mind cling to it; though residing in a nation, let not the heart bind itself to the state; though living in a village, let not thoughts linger on neighbors; though inhabiting a home, let not the spirit be confined by household affairs; though consciousness resides in the body, let not the spirit be shackled by form. Such a person is a true cultivator of the Dao (Dao). Master Wei explains: By releasing all attachments, one paradoxically embraces all existence. Master Liu analogizes: A distant traveler does not cling to waystations—how much less would a Dao-seeker fixate on the physical form? If even the body can be relinquished, why cling to worldly concerns like home and country?

Chapter Thirty-One states: Calamity often sprouts from the unnoticed. Master Chong clarifies: The wealthy, believing themselves carefree, fail to recognize how "unnoticed" burdens become their undoing. Master Li adds: All know to fear misfortune while alive, yet despite daily vigilance, sudden disaster still looms—how much more inevitable for flagrant wrongdoers? Thus the noble person remains ever cautious.

Misfortune germinates in minutiae. The Li and Liu editions render "subtle threads" as "private subtleties." Master Li expounds: Worry weighs upon body and mind; calamity brings ruin. When one dismisses latent dangers as harmless, disaster has already taken root; when private desires go unchecked as threats, misfortune arrives unbidden.

This scripture, through the interpretations of multiple commentators, reveals the profound principle of the mutual transformation of opposites. The term "chong" (冲) indicates the need to nip problems in the bud, remaining vigilant before calamities take shape. If one does not fear minor transgressions, they will inevitably lead to great disasters, as the scripture states: when the people cease to fear authority, greater calamities will befall them.

The commentators elucidate the law of mutual generation and restraint from different perspectives: good arises from evil (Liu's note: coveting a reputation for goodness can lead to ruin); benefit emerges from harm (Liu's note: just as fish are hooked by coveting fragrant bait). The great grows from the small (Liu's note: a towering tree begins as a tiny sprout), and difficult tasks start from the easy (Li's note: all difficult undertakings in the world must begin with simplicity; Liu's note: like thin frost hardening into solid ice).

Height originates from the low (Li's note: a nine-story tower rises from accumulated earth); the distant begins with the near (Li's note: a thousand-mile journey starts with a single step). The external stems from the internal (Li's note: without the inner, there can be no outer; Liu's note: words manifest outwardly, while actions influence the people). Nobility is born from humility (Li's note: one ascends from the lowly to the exalted; Liu's note: the noble takes the humble as its root), and movement arises from stillness (Li's note: extreme stillness generates motion; Liu's note: stability precedes action).

Prosperity springs from decline (Li's note: extreme heat gives rise to cold; Liu's note: the sun begins its descent after reaching its zenith), and Yin is born from Yang (Wei's note: Yin-Yang are like life and death). If the world had only good without evil, only benefit without harm, the very concept of "good" would not exist. All these phenomena arise precisely because of desire and self-interest.

Finally, the text points out the principle of mutual generation between being and non-being, and the complementarity of emptiness and substance (Li's note: being arises from non-being, and non-being from being; emptiness belongs to Yin, substance to Yang; Liu's note: being provides utility, while non-being fulfills function). Wei's commentary concludes: where there is good, there must be evil—this is "being returning to being"; where there is no benefit, there is no harm—this is "non-being returning to non-being." Liu adds: what originates from Heaven inclines upward, while what originates from Earth inclines downward.

Laozi said: Humans exist within the Great Dao, and the Great Dao also exists within humans. Li Rong's commentary explains that the Dao encompasses all things—humans cannot survive separated from it, hence we say they exist within the Dao. The Dao is both vast and subtle, permeating all phenomena, which is why we say the Great Dao also resides within humans. It is like fish dwelling in water while water also circulates within their bodies.

Liu Renhui elucidates that human spirit (Shen) and Qi connect with heaven and earth, just as fish require water both internally and externally. If the Dao were to depart, humans would perish—just as fish die when water dries up. Li Rong uses this metaphor: fish cannot leave water, just as humans cannot leave the Dao. With the Dao present, life flourishes; without it, existence ceases—precisely as fish live with water and die without it. Humans must return to the Great Dao just as fish must return to water; the interdependence between humans/Dao and fish/water allows no moment of separation.

Thus, sages who understand this principle return to the primal authenticity preceding birth, abandoning arrogance and extravagance while severing anxious thoughts. Wei Chuxuan states that one must first discard pride and luxury to eliminate worries, and only after eliminating worries can one return to the origin. Upon returning to this origin, the Dao abides eternally within. Li Rong adds that true self-knowledge isn't attained through thought but by returning to life's source and preserving one's simple nature. By relinquishing indulgence and cutting off distress—nourishing the heart-mind with the Great Dao—what room remains for anxiety?

Therefore, when the physical form attains stillness, the spirit endures perpetually. Liu Renhui describes this state as "serene and unmoving." All things under heaven will naturally gravitate toward such a state. Wei Chuxuan explains that when the body achieves tranquility, the spirit takes residence. Chongxuanzi remarks that although the physical form ultimately decays, the spirit persists to transform myriad beings. Li Rong observes that when spirit concentrates to its utmost, the body may seem hidden—yet through the manifestation of sacred virtue (De), the spirit abides forever. People will be drawn to the Dao, and the world's hearts will unite. Liu Renhui considers this the return to profound stillness.

Through non-action (Wuwei) and avoiding unnecessary affairs, the nation prospers naturally and people flourish spontaneously. Maintaining the eternal principles of the Great Dao constitutes "mysterious unity" (Xuántóng)—the supreme state of merging with the Dao. Li Rong notes that the more laws are enacted, the more thieves arise; only by eschewing cunning wisdom can one follow the true path.

This scripture primarily expounds on the principles of governing a state and cultivating the self, emphasizing the importance of governing through non-action (Wuwei) and following natural patterns.

Governing a nation should be like the deep-rooted stability of a great tree. Rulers ought to emulate heaven and earth, taking the Dao as their fundamental principle—avoiding deliberate action and refraining from flaunting military might. Only then can the state achieve peace and prosperity. When virtuous talents are employed, the people live contentedly, farmlands yield abundant harvests, and wealth flows naturally. These are the benefits of maintaining the correct path and harmonizing with nature's rhythms.

Heaven and earth nurture all things without conscious effort, just as gold remains naturally in mountains and pearls dwell undisturbed in deep waters. A truly Daoist ruler operates similarly—there's no need to deliberately hoard gold and silver treasures, for wealth preserves itself naturally. By taking Dao and De (Virtue/Power) as foundations, one becomes as all-encompassing as heaven and earth, thereby attaining lasting tranquility.

Regarding self-cultivation, the scripture reveals: Only those who transcend the constraints of heaven and earth can truly possess them; only those who forget their physical selves can achieve longevity. Noble individuals often cherish what ordinary people disregard (referring to stillness and non-action), for they understand that forced action damages life, while following nature's course leads to unity with the Dao and enduring vision. If even heaven, earth, and one's physical form can be transcended, how much more so material possessions like gold and jewels?

The commentary by Liu further explains: Those who transcend heaven and earth remain undisturbed, with all things naturally aligning with them; those who transcend bodily desires naturally attain extended lifespans. These represent the most profound truths of all.

What people are unwilling to do, what people avoid doing, what people refuse to believe—these are precisely what practitioners must undertake and embrace. Walking the path others shun is how one truly attains the Dao and De (the fundamental principles of Daoist cultivation).

Li Rong (Tang dynasty Daoist master) explains that genuine seekers study what ordinary people cannot comprehend and accomplish what common folk cannot achieve. Whether acting or refraining, learning or not learning, they ultimately penetrate all teachings without obstruction—this is the meaning of "perfecting Dao and De." Specifically, worldly people chase after purposeful action (youwei), while noble Daoist practitioners revere wuwei (non-action through natural alignment). Where people indulge in sensual pleasures, I alone cherish silence and formlessness; where people pursue fame and gain, I forget them entirely; where people become entangled in love and hatred, I transcend such dualities; where people believe in heresies, I uphold the true path; where people commit evil deeds, I persist in virtuous conduct. The Daoist practitioner's behavior always contradicts worldly ways—their aspirations lofty, their merit complete—hence "perfecting Dao and De."

Liu Renhui (Tang dynasty Daoist) further clarifies: True goodness transcends attachment to good and evil; true joy arises when no affairs disturb the mind; true happiness is found in blandness without flavor; true action means following nature's flow; true faith requires no forced seeking; true movement aligns with Dao and De. Without understanding and practicing these six realms, one cannot claim genuine attainment of Dao and De.

In Chapter 34 of the Daode Jing, Laozi states: The Great Dao does not reside solely within me—all things inherently contain Dao's essence.

Wei Chuxuan (Jin dynasty Daoist) elaborates: Dao permeates everywhere—how could it belong exclusively to sages? Zhuangzi said even excrement contains Dao—if even waste embodies it, how much more so all things? Liu Renhui supplements: Though Dao exists universally, only cultivators can realize it. While creatures remain unaware, Dao naturally dwells within them.

Chongxuzi (i.e., Liezi) observes: All beings lack self-awareness, like straw dogs used in rituals. The Creator disperses primordial Qi (vital energy) into myriad entities that remain ignorant of their origin in the Great Dao. Liu Renhui employs the Yijing concept of "hidden operations" to explain: Just as all people depend on divine Qi for life yet remain unaware of the spiritual mechanism naturally at work.

Wei Chuxuan concludes: People understand neither themselves nor the essence of things, yet the divine Dao perpetually operates in silence.

This passage elucidates the principle of "Shen" (spirit) as the fundamental essence of life. Master Chongxu explains: Shen is the root that generates physical form. All living beings receive life through Shen, yet remain unaware that it is Shen that grants them existence. This resembles how common people benefit from a ruler's virtue without realizing it. The sages, understanding this truth, conceal Shen within their bodies, preventing the dispersal of hun and po (ethereal and corporeal souls).

Li Rong further elaborates: The sages emulate the Dao's principle of Wuwei (non-action) and tranquility, maintaining mental serenity so Shen never leaves the body. By guarding the fundamental root (the mother), one preserves life (the child). Just as a nation thrives when its foundations are secure, accumulating profound Qi (vital energy) leads to longevity.

Wei Chuxuan observes: While humans can study all phenomena between heaven and earth, their greatest ignorance lies in not comprehending the origin of their own life. Li Rong adds: Though humans possess intelligence to observe celestial patterns and earthly principles, mastering objective knowledge, they fail to recognize their bodies are born from the Dao. Those who pursue external knowledge without awakening to life's source are like chasing appearances while losing the root.

Liu Renhui concludes: Some possess extensive learning and master various skills, imitating sages' conduct, yet remain ignorant of life's origin and the path of returning to authenticity. This attachment to external pursuits represents the common delusion of the mundane world.

The principle of self-cultivation begins with emulating heaven and earth in their serene wuwei (non-action), allowing body and mind to dwell in the primordial state of all things. "Withdrawal" here signifies tranquility - first making one's physical being as naturally effortless as the movement of heaven and earth. Only then can the spirit return to the source of all existence, which is the Dao (the fundamental cosmic principle). The essence of cultivating the body lies in first forgetting physical form; when even the body is forgotten, one truly withdraws into the harmony of heaven and earth, allowing the shen (spirit) to return to its origin.

Sages who attain the Dao comprehend the profound source, blending jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit) into unity, using this state to safeguard their being. Maintaining purity and wuwei, they perceive the truth of the "Mysterious Origin" (the source of Dao), unifying spirit and breath through contemplation of the true divine, thereby preserving their innate nature and achieving enduring life. This is the proper path of cultivation practiced by sages.

Ordinary people, however, guard themselves with worldly attachments and desires—their affections deeper than the ocean, their cravings heavier than mountains. To cultivate the self in this way is the method of fools. Though both sages and commoners engage in self-cultivation, their moral states differ completely, like the stark opposition between beauty and ugliness, leading to vastly different outcomes.

De (virtue/power) resembles heaven and earth, water and fire, the myriad things, high mountains and deep abysses—each having its natural place. De is the subtle and profound truth, while all below heaven consists of tangible forms. Even these tangible things have their rightful abode—how much more so the formless Dao? If one maintains a mind free of desire and seeking, the Dao will naturally arrive.

The Dao itself does not pursue emptiness, yet emptiness naturally belongs to it; De does not seek the divine, yet the divine naturally belongs to it. For the Dao is emptiness itself, and De is the divine itself—both are fundamentally pure. If one can empty the mind and forget the self, they will naturally merge with the Dao; by maintaining focused shen, they will naturally attain De. Just as heaven does not deliberately seek clarity, yet the clear qi naturally ascends and returns to it.

The earth does not intentionally bear filth—it is simply the nature of heavy and turbid things to sink and settle upon it. (Liu's commentary: The inherent nature of dense and murky substances is to descend downward.)

Damp places do not deliberately gather water—it is water's nature to flow toward low-lying, moist areas. (Liu's commentary: Water inherently seeks out moisture.)

Dry objects do not purposely attract fire—it is fire's nature to burn toward what is dry. (Liu's commentary: Flames naturally move toward dryness.)

All things do not consciously manifest form—their shapes appear spontaneously. (Liu's commentary: The formless cannot be seen; the formed cannot be concealed.)

High mountains and vast marshes do not intentionally draw birds, tigers, or wolves—it is simply the nature of winged and four-legged creatures to dwell there. (Liu's commentary: Birds and beasts inevitably return to forests and waters.)

Deep abysses, rivers, and seas do not deliberately summon fish, turtles, or dragons—it is the nature of aquatic beings to gather in such places. (Liu's commentary: Like attracts like; each finds its own suitable habitat.)

If a person can maintain an empty, wuwei (non-action) state of mind—not forcing the pursuit of the Dao—the Dao will naturally align with them. (Liu's commentary: Clinging to deliberate action only binds one to worldly affairs; only through wuwei and stillness can one attain the Dao.)

From this perspective, is it not evident that the nature of all things arises spontaneously? (Liu's commentary: Things resonate with one another—they are not artificially divided.)

In Chapter 37: Good and Evil, Laozi states: "When the people do good, I do not interfere; when they do evil, I do not restrain them; when they practice loyalty and trust, I do not govern them."

(Xu's commentary: Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants all possess innate natures—if they lack fundamental goodness, they cannot be easily taught. Just as crows are born black and cranes white, no washing or dyeing can change this. Li's commentary: The sage, with compassionate intent, establishes the teachings of the Dao, hoping all beings may abandon evil for good and discard falsity for truth. Yet the deluded struggle to awaken, each following their own karmic currents, drowning in inverted fantasies, unable to see through illusion, clinging to the retribution of good and evil. Those who do good receive blessings; those who do evil invite punishment. The loyal and trustworthy become virtuous ministers; the deceitful become reckless fools. These are the natural consequences of their own actions—not something the sage can forcibly alter. The phrase "I do not know" here refers to adapting teachings to people's capacities, waiting for them to awaken on their own.)

Thus, accumulating good deeds naturally attracts harmonious qi, while accumulating evil inevitably summons baleful qi. (Li's commentary: Earlier, the provisional method spoke of "not knowing" to align with people's understanding—now the true principle is revealed: Without accumulating good, one cannot achieve a noble reputation; without accumulating evil, one will not bring ruin upon oneself.)

This scripture discusses the relationship between the accumulation of virtue and vice with the stages of Daoist cultivation. When good deeds accumulate to their extreme, they manifest visibly; when wickedness accumulates to a certain degree, it also becomes apparent. This is no empty saying but a tangible and undeniable influence.

The sages (those who have attained the Dao) harbor no deliberate thoughts distinguishing good from evil in their hearts, simply responding to all things in accordance with nature. Virtue and vice accumulate naturally—who can truly perceive this process? Thus, the sages say: "I embrace within my heart the origin of heaven, earth, and the myriad things (the 'beginning' refers to the Dao), while guarding the fundamental source that nurtures all creation (the 'mother' refers to De [Virtue/Power])." Consequently, all things return to this source, and life receives its nourishment.

The phrase "embracing the Dao while containing De" metaphorically describes the state of Daoist cultivation—when Dao and De reside naturally within, one commands reverence. All things return to the Dao, and the Dao in turn nourishes them; both humans and beings thereby continue their existence. Just as clear water flows naturally from a pure spring, guarding the root allows for the nurturing of future generations.

True cultivators reach the state of "not knowing" in their hearts. This "not knowing" is not ignorance but a awakened state that transcends the distinctions between good and evil. The sage's heart forgets the self; externally, it forgets all things—even the very concepts of virtue and vice are relinquished. How then could they distinguish others' virtuous or wicked actions? Those who guard the fundamental source forget even themselves, let alone concern themselves with trivial matters.

Persistent good deeds receive the subtle assistance of the divine (referring to natural laws), yet cultivators remain unattached to this. The Dao of Heaven (natural principles) always shelters the virtuous, though Heaven itself shows no partiality.

Chapter 38, the "Chapter on Quiescent Intention," describes the state of cultivation: the Dao is tranquil and serene, like dead ashes or withered wood—utterly undisturbed. Only when thoughts become still can one return to the origin of life. Though it may appear lifeless, it actually contains boundless vitality. Precisely because intention becomes quiescent, one returns to natural authenticity.

Cultivators must calm their minds and quiet their thoughts, allowing the Dao's power to nourish life spontaneously. The Dao's influence continuously moistens body and mind like sweet dew, yet striving for it creates obstructions instead. The "mystical covering" (the Dao's embrace) is like dew permeating the entire body, while "thorough saturation" describes how the Dao's power circulates throughout one's being. Cultivation should resemble gathering Qi and blood to nourish the body—letting the Dao's power flow naturally.

This passage elucidates the principles of Qi circulation and mind-body cultivation during Daoist practice. When the body's meridians are unobstructed, the primordial Qi (Yuanqi) naturally envelops the entire being. Li Rong's commentary explains that by relinquishing deliberate effort (Youwei), life naturally prolongs itself; through tranquil alignment with the Dao (the Way), one's innate nature and vitality spontaneously restore. Those who return to the Dao become enveloped by its mysterious power (De), much like divine dew nourishing every part of the body.

Liu Renhui interprets that while life depends on spiritual power (Shenming), it cannot grow and transform without Qi. Wei Chuxuan further clarifies that all beings thrive through nourishment by harmonious Qi—as if bathed in this profound primordial energy, their foundations grow ever more substantial. Xu Daomiao employs the metaphor of synovial fluid in joints: practitioners who preserve their essential Qi (Jingqi) allow spiritual energy (Shenqi) to permeate their entire form, nourishing every part.

Regarding the "Four Stabilizations," Liu Renhui explains them as profound authentic nature with an undamaged physical form. Wei Chuxuan states that the body's solidity derives from its composition by the four elements (earth, water, fire, wind), while Xu Daomiao adds that closing the sensory gates (eyes, ears, nose, mouth) prevents external disturbances from invading the heart-mind. Li Rong further clarifies that though the body consists of these elemental constituents, the mind must maintain emptiness and stillness to attract the essence of all things.

The passage concludes by describing how practitioners in a state of desireless void naturally attract mysterious cosmic energies. Xu Daomiao notes that adepts diligently practicing Qi circulation techniques may ascend the immortal path alongside all creation, drawing subtle energies to spontaneously return.

This scripture primarily recounts the story of Laozi (revered in Daoism as "Lord Lao") journeying westward to instruct Yin Xi (Master Yin), while elucidating the cultivation principle of "returning the spirit to namelessness."

Laozi reveals to Yin Xi: "The one anciently called 'Ancient Master' was in fact my manifested form." Here it mentions Laozi possessed ten honorific titles, with "Ancient Master" being his designation during the era of the Three Sovereigns. When passing westward through the mountain pass, Laozi deliberately disclosed his identity to Yin Xi, who served as the border official, to dispel his doubts. Subsequently, Laozi transmitted to Yin Xi the Five Thousand Characters of the Dao De Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue), the Nine-Cycle Elixir Formula, and essential instructions for practicing in the Nine Chambers, preparing him for the western mission. The text refutes later misinterpretations that mistakenly identified the "Ancient Master" as Laozi's teacher, providing detailed historical verification that Laozi's encounter with Yin Xi occurred during King Zhao of Zhou's reign, not the erroneous accounts placing it under King Ping or King Jing of Zhou.

Regarding the essential teaching of "returning the spirit to namelessness": Namelessness refers to the eternally quiescent state of the "Constant Dao." While manifesting forms to teach beings according to circumstances, Laozi withdraws all traces and returns to the source after completing his instruction. "Returning the spirit" describes the process of transitioning from manifested form back to the formless, nameless primordial state. Here "spirit" (Shen) denotes the mysteriously subtle Dao-body—by severing worldly attachments and extinguishing conditioned grasping, one attains the continuous, everlasting realm of the Dao.

Through the historical account of Laozi's manifestations, this scripture illustrates how practitioners should transcend form and name to return to fundamental authenticity, embodying the core Daoist principle of "non-action in natural harmony" (Wuwei ziran).

Laozi (revered in Daoism as "Lord Lao") was about to depart from the mundane world and return to the source of the Dao. Originally manifesting from the East, he now prepared to return to the fundamental essence of the Dao—a state known as "returning to the primordial origin" (fan yi yuan).

His disappearance manifested with wondrous mystery: one moment present in the human realm, the next instant gone without a trace. Throughout his time in the Zhou dynasty, Laozi had concealed his true identity, moving unnoticed among ordinary people. Now, as he prepared to return to the source, his physical form suddenly vanished while miraculous signs appeared—his dwelling radiated brilliant light as five-colored auspicious rays (the celestial lights of azure, crimson, yellow, white, and black) illuminated heaven and earth, astonishing all witnesses.

Yin Xi (Laozi's disciple), witnessing this divine manifestation, rushed into the courtyard and prostrated himself, pleading: "O Immortal One, reveal your true form again and impart to me the essential teachings of cultivation!" He realized he stood before a true sage—though he had received teachings before, the path of cultivation remained long, requiring more direct guidance.

As Yin Xi looked up, he beheld Laozi's golden-hued Dharma body suspended in midair, dozens of zhang above the ground. Laozi's manifestation embodied profound mystery: at times appearing as a solemn golden statue, at others half-visible; his form alternately expanding and contracting, his countenance shifting between aged and youthful, demonstrating existence and transformation beyond ordinary logic.

Laozi solemnly instructed: "You must remember these essential cultivation principles: cleanse your mind of impurities (termed 'removing defilements' in Daoist practice), cease the turbulence of random thoughts ('stilling the mind'), maintain inner tranquility ('quieting the heart'), and single-mindedly preserve your innate primordial Qi ('guarding the One')." He particularly emphasized how all worldly distinctions and attachments become defilements that disturb the original purity of one's nature.

This scripture passage primarily explains how practitioners of the Dao can attain the state of "guarding the One" (shouyi, focused cultivation) by eliminating distracting thoughts and restraining desires, ultimately achieving the goal of realizing the Dao and attaining perfection.

It first points out that human emotions of love and hatred both defile the mind, collectively referred to as "defilements" (gou). Practitioners must control their emotions and endure desires, maintaining the ability to comprehend worldly phenomena while transcending material attachments. Only by thoroughly cleansing these distracting thoughts can one be said to have "removed defilements." When the mind is no longer bound by external objects, this is called "stopping thoughts" (zhinian); when one is unattached both internally and externally, this is "quieting the heart" (jingxin); when spirit concentrates on the Dao with undivided will, this is "guarding the One."

Commentator Liu explains: Anything not in accordance with true nature constitutes defilement. Only by stopping distracting thoughts can various defilements be eliminated; only by steadfastly maintaining "guarding the One" without wavering can the true heart become tranquil. When all defilements are removed, all matters reach completion.

Commentator Li further elaborates: Eliminating all evil thoughts constitutes "removal," while perfecting all virtuous actions constitutes "completion." The scripture's core teaching is this: Simply follow the precept of "embracing the origin and guarding the One," eliminate defilements and cease distracting thoughts, and evil notions will vanish while proper practice will flourish. This approach not only leads to realization of the true Dao but also enables governing households, instructing nations, and accomplishing all things.

The original intention of the Mysterious Origin (Xuanyuan, referring to the Daoist patriarch) was to save humanity. If people cultivate according to these teachings, there is no problem that cannot be resolved. When merit is perfected and transformation complete, one withdraws physical traces to return to stillness. Hence the term "withdrawal" (yin).

When sages enter mysterious states and disappear without trace, those who admire them weep and follow in remembrance. Practitioners should lay aside worldly affairs and return to non-action (wuwei) - this is what is meant by "pleading illness to withdraw" (tuoji, using illness as pretext to retire from society).

Simply abandon distracting thoughts and steadfastly "guard the One," and all matters can be perfectly accomplished. Commentator Li states: Maintaining precepts in the heart and practicing according to the scriptures, no longer disturbed by external conditions - this constitutes true "guarding the One." When worldly burdens are all removed, the true Dao of non-action is naturally realized, wisdom becomes perfect, virtue becomes complete, and all cultivation reaches fulfillment - hence "all is accomplished" (bi yi).

This passage emphasizes that through eliminating distracting thoughts and focusing on Dao cultivation, one can ultimately transcend the mundane world and achieve the realm of perfected Dao.