《文子纘義》Vol. 2

Heaven naturally attains its height, earth naturally achieves its thickness; the sun and moon shine while stars illuminate clearly—the harmony of yin and yang occurs without deliberate effort. Simply follow the right path, and all things operate spontaneously. The alternation of yin and yang through the four seasons does not exist for the sake of producing all things, nor does the timely fall of rain and dew aim to nourish grass and trees. When the divine (referring to the creative power of nature) merges with yin and yang, all things naturally flourish.

The essence of the Dao (the cosmic origin) is stored within, while the spirit (shen) resides peacefully in the heart. Maintain inner tranquility and detachment, keeping the mind empty and formless, silent and soundless. The ideal state of governance is one where government offices seem idle, the court appears devoid of officials, with no hermits or idle people, no burdensome labor, and no unjust punishments. All under heaven will admire the ruler’s virtue (de) and comprehend their intentions. Even distant lands with different customs will send envoys to submit—not through door-to-door persuasion, but by extending sincerity to the world.

Rewarding good and punishing evil are the contents of governance, but what truly enacts these policies is jingcheng (pure and focused spiritual power). Though laws may be clear today, without jingcheng, they are difficult to implement. If one governs the people by leading with the Dao yet receives no response, it is due to insufficient sincerity.

The ancient sages took heaven and earth as their office and all things as their treasury, accumulating jing (essence) and preserving authenticity. They followed the Dao, allowing all things to develop naturally. In those times, the court had no ministers who gained favor by chance, the people had no forgotten worthies, the state had no idle hands, no wars were waged, no forced labor was imposed, and scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants all pursued their proper callings. Thus, without the need for door-to-door preaching, a peaceful golden age emerged naturally.

Laozi said: Heaven arranges the sun, moon, and stars, sets the cycle of the four seasons, and balances yin and yang. By day, it dries things with sunlight; by night, it lets all things rest. It uses wind to parch and rain to moisten. When nurturing all things, its methods are invisible, yet they grow naturally; when causing things to perish, its actions are unseen, yet they wither spontaneously. This is the unfathomable law of nature.

Therefore, the sage emulates this natural way: When bringing blessings, people see no method, yet blessings arrive; when dispelling calamities, people discern no cause, yet disasters vanish. Scrutinize closely, and no trace can be found—yet the results are undeniable. Viewed in the short term, it seems insignificant, but accumulated over time, its effects become evident. Silent as if voiceless, yet a single word can shake the world—this is the power of transforming all things without deliberate action (wuwei).

When jingcheng is cultivated within, the vital energy (qi) resonates with heaven: Auspicious signs appear—the propitious jingxing (auspicious star), the descent of the yellow dragon, the arrival of phoenixes, sweet springs bubbling forth, bountiful grains growing, the Yellow River ceasing to flood, and the great seas calming their waves.

The sun, moon, and stars are celestial deities; water, fire, earth, and stone are terrestrial deities. Wind, rain, dew, thunder, as well as the cycles of cold and heat, day and night—all possess divine nature. Yet humans, as the most spiritually endowed of all beings, surpass all creatures in their numinous capacity. Heaven nourishes the myriad things through seemingly effortless non-action (Wuwei), allowing them to flourish naturally. Similarly, sages govern the people by eliminating calamities and fostering prosperity, nurturing the masses in harmony with the Dao of Heaven. This occurs because inner sincerity resonates with the celestial realm, aligning Yin-Yang in harmonious motion, with deities offering unseen protection—thus auspicious signs manifest spontaneously.

When the Dao of Heaven is violated and living beings harmed, anomalies appear: solar and lunar eclipses, erratic planetary movements, disordered seasons, reversed day-night cycles, collapsing mountains, dried rivers, winter thunderstorms, and summer frost. Heaven and humanity inherently resonate; thus when a nation nears collapse, celestial phenomena inevitably turn aberrant—social chaos erupts, and rainbows (signifying disruption) frequently emerge. All things interconnect through shared Qi (vital energy), their essences (Jing) mutually influencing one another. Therefore, divine matters cannot be forced through clever artifice. Those of true great Virtue (De) embody the same power as Heaven and Earth, shine with the brilliance of sun and moon, commune with spirits, and keep faith with the four seasons. Holding celestial will and terrestrial Qi within, they maintain serene harmony, transforming customs and guiding people toward goodness as effortlessly as nature unfolds—this is the realm where spirit (Shen) inspires all existence.

Heaven and humanity are fundamentally linked through one unified Qi, their hidden and manifest dimensions perpetually interacting. Harmonious Qi brings blessings; discordant Qi invites disaster—all correlating with the ruler’s conduct. Defying the Dao and corrupting Virtue provokes Heaven’s wrath, summoning calamity. Like King Cheng of Zhou’s repentance reviving blighted crops, or Duke Jing of Song’s sincere prayers diverting the baleful star—these exemplify how utmost sincerity moves Heaven, turning misfortune into fortune.

Laozi said: Those who cultivate the Dao preserve their innate nature and guard primal purity, keeping body and mind undamaged. Even in peril, they remain attuned to the Dao. By steadfastly holding to the root, what endeavor could fail? Viewing life and death as equal, they transcend coercion by external things. How much more so those who command Heaven and Earth, embrace all creation, return to nature’s artistry, and embody supreme harmony—they have already transcended life and death. Inner sincerity manifests outwardly, transforming hearts beyond words: this is the ineffable highest Dao.

All humans receive the same celestial mandate at birth, thus their original nature is inherently good. Preserving this heavenly nature and guarding primal purity—keeping body and mind whole while comprehending Heaven’s intent—ensures unimpeded success. Those who return to nature’s artistry, embody perfect harmony, and transcend mortality may be called "Zhenren" (Perfected Ones). When sages occupy exalted positions, they harbor the Great Dao without excessive speech, yet their grace benefits all. This wordless teaching surpasses any eloquence in depth and reach.

This passage expounds the Daoist philosophy concerning governance, self-cultivation, and the natural order.

It begins by illustrating how disharmony between ruler and ministers creates resonance throughout heaven and earth, as humanity and nature exist in mutual correspondence. True statesmanship doesn't reside in rhetorical debate or forced action, but in accordance with nature's flow. Distant regions submit without coercion, while close relationships require no excessive words. Like night travelers reaching their destination effortlessly, governance should follow natural rhythms. The Dao of Heaven shows no partiality—those who align prosper, while those who oppose suffer. Mere cleverness cannot sustain governance; only alignment with the Great Harmony (Taiji) and the Dao's natural patterns endures.

The leather metaphor then reveals the relationship between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power): seemingly separate yet fundamentally connected. The sage mirrors reality without actively pursuing or rejecting phenomena. What appears as loss may be gain, and apparent gain may conceal loss. Those who fully comprehend the Great Harmony remain as carefree as drunken sleepers, never departing from Dao's essence.

Concluding with the Yellow Emperor's exemplary governance, the text demonstrates ideal rulership: harmonizing solar and lunar cycles, regulating Yin-Yang energies, following seasonal transitions, establishing calendars, clarifying social hierarchies, protecting the vulnerable, and ensuring both commoners' contentment and officials' impartiality—all manifestations of heavenly Dao in earthly affairs.

This scripture primarily expounds on the ideal governance of ancient sage-kings and the essential principles of self-cultivation.

In high antiquity, society was harmonious from top to bottom, laws were clear and just, ministers assisted with impartiality, farmers yielded field boundaries to one another, no one picked up lost items on the road, and market transactions were fair. As a result, the sun, moon, and stars moved in orderly cycles, winds and rains came in due season, the Five Grains flourished, and auspicious signs frequently appeared.

After the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi) comprehended the Dao (the Way), the world was well-governed. He once sought advice from Guangchengzi on the path to longevity. Guangchengzi told him: "The profoundest Dao is deep and mysterious. Maintain stillness of heart and mind, avoid reckless seeing and hearing, do not overexert the body, and do not disturb the spirit (Shen). Only then can one attain long life."

When Fuxi ruled the world, he followed the laws of nature, harmonized the Qi of Yin-Yang, and prevented excessive accumulation. At that time, the people were simple and innocent, and even wild beasts retracted their claws and did not harm humans. The Yellow Emperor inherited these principles of governance yet did not flaunt his achievements. He concealed the wisdom of a true person (Zhenren) and complied with the natural patterns of heaven and earth.

Later, Fuxi observed celestial phenomena to create tools, invented knotted cords for record-keeping and fishing nets, taught people to use fire for cooking, devised writing, and established proper human relationships. His merits were comparable to those of heaven and earth, yet he never claimed credit for himself, earning him the revered title of "Taihao" (Great Radiance).

Laozi said: "If heaven were not stable, the sun and moon would have no path to follow. If earth were not stable, plants and trees would have no place to grow. If the human heart is not settled, right and wrong cannot be clearly discerned." Only those who have attained the Dao—true persons (Zhenren)—can grasp genuine wisdom. What they uphold is not external form but inner truth.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), as well as the concepts of benevolence and righteousness, while elucidating the cultivated state of sages.

First, it defines "benevolence" (仁): bringing joy to the people through abundant resources, enabling them to live in peace and contentment—this constitutes benevolence. "Righteousness" (义), on the other hand, manifests in establishing meritorious deeds, spreading one's virtuous reputation, regulating the rites between ruler and subject (some versions phrase this as "embodying the ruler-subject relationship"), rectifying hierarchical order, clarifying distinctions between closeness and distance, rescuing endangered states, reviving extinct noble lineages, and appointing heirs for those without descendants.

Next, it explains "De" (德): closing the nine orifices (referring to the body's openings), restraining one's will, relinquishing cleverness and wisdom, returning to a state of no-knowledge and no-awareness, transcending worldly disturbances, wandering freely in Wuwei (non-action), harmonizing Yin-Yang, and coexisting peacefully with all things. Thus, it is said that when the Dao scatters, it becomes De; when De overflows, it manifests as benevolence and righteousness. Once benevolence and righteousness are emphasized, Dao and De decline.

The Zuan Yi commentary adds that Dao and De's relationship to the Five Constant Virtues (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness) is akin to how Yin-Yang relates to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)—they share the same essence. Just as the alternation of sun and moon and the cycle of seasons complete a full year, human cultivation requires Dao and De to work in tandem with the Five Constant Virtues. Some may ask why Laozi advocates "rejecting sageliness and discarding wisdom" or "abandoning benevolence and righteousness." This critique targets those who exploit these virtues hypocritically. If Laozi truly meant to discard them entirely, the Daodejing would not mention sages or benevolence and righteousness at all. Therefore, one must first become a "true person" (one who has attained the Dao) to gain genuine insight.

Laozi states: Those whose Shen (spirit) scatters outward speak with empty eloquence; those whose De runs wild act with hypocrisy. When inner Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are exhausted yet one feigns composure externally, they inevitably become enslaved by external things. With finite vital energy but boundless desires, an unsettled mind will be swayed by worldly trends. Thus, sages cultivate Dao and De internally (some versions say "Dao techniques") without ostentatiously displaying benevolence and righteousness. They understand the coordination of the body's parts, maintaining harmony in their Shen—this is the realm of sages.

The Zuan Yi concludes: Dao and De are the root of the Five Constant Virtues. Having roots without branches is incomplete, but focusing on branches while forgetting the root is even worse. The Five Constant Virtues are like five spirits; by guarding inner Dao and De, the Shen will not scatter outward. Once this guard is lost, one's words become hollow and actions hypocritical, inevitably falling prey to external influences. Only sages understand how to harmonize body and mind, preserving Shen's equilibrium. When the root is firm, the branches naturally flourish.

Finally, it describes the supreme state of sages: Their actions arise from absolute emptiness; their minds wander in the realm of supreme nothingness, galloping beyond the confines of the mundane world. They walk without fixed paths, listen to soundless sounds, observe formless forms, unbound by worldly constraints and untethered by external things.

Ordinary people are often bound by various rules and conventions. Therefore, the way sages influence the world is such that those who have truly attained the Dao (zhenren) do not interfere excessively. The methods of virtuous individuals who seek to correct societal customs are not deliberately imitated by sages. When people are constrained by worldly conventions, their bodies become restricted, and their spirit (shen) dissipates, inevitably leading them into predicaments. If even I (referring to the Daoist practitioner) am bound by such constraints, it must mean my fate is still governed by external forces.

When the body is not entangled by worldly affairs, others will not grow weary of me. When the mind is not confined by societal norms, I will not resent others. Only then can one roam freely with the Creator (referring to the natural Dao). Thus, those who influence the world as true Dao-realized beings (zhenren) do not act excessively, and sages who rectify worldly customs do not deliberately display their efforts. If one’s will is driven by external things, if the body is constrained and the spirit (shen) is scattered, even virtuous individuals will struggle to avoid hardship—how much more so ordinary people?

Laozi said: When a ruler contemplates, his spirit (shen) is not trapped within his chest, and his wisdom is not confined to the four directions. With a heart of sincere benevolence, winds and rains will come in due season, the five grains will flourish, and the four seasons will follow their natural order. Conducting monthly inspections and annual assessments, the people will willingly offer tribute. Governing with impartiality, though strict, requires no warnings; laws are simple, not cumbersome, and teachings unfold as naturally as divine signs. When laws are lenient, prisons remain empty, and the customs of the world are unified—no one harbors deceitful intentions. This is the virtue (de) of a sage.

Conversely, if a ruler is insatiably greedy, his ministers will compete for merit without yielding. The people, impoverished and contentious, labor without reward, deceit flourishes, and banditry runs rampant. The ruler and subjects resent each other, and governance becomes impossible to enforce.

(The commentary adds:) Just as carts follow the same tracks and writing follows the same script, the customs of the world should be unified. Rewards should not be excessive, punishments not abused—then all under heaven will be of one mind. If this is achieved, the ruler’s thoughts need not extend beyond the four directions, and his teachings will naturally appear miraculous. But if the ruler demands without limit, subordinates will inevitably fight for merit, deceit will rise, and the people’s strength will be exhausted. Ruler and subjects will resent each other, just as the separation of heaven and earth disrupts the flow of all things.

When water is murky, fish gasp at the surface; when governance is harsh, the people revolt. If those above have many desires, those below will be deceitful. If superiors frequently interfere, subordinates will be restless. If those above take too much, those below will contend. Addressing symptoms rather than root causes is like digging a ditch to stop water or carrying firewood to extinguish a fire.

Sages govern with simplicity yet achieve order; their needs are few, yet they are self-sufficient. They do not deliberately bestow kindness, yet their benevolence is evident. They do not speak idly, yet they are trustworthy. They do not demand, yet they receive. They do not act, yet they accomplish. Holding fast to their innate nature and preserving the utmost truth (zhendao), they embody the great Dao (Da Dao) with sincerity. The people follow them as echoes respond to sound and shadows follow form—because they cultivate the root of the Way.

This scripture primarily discusses the resonance between heaven and humanity, as well as the ruler's path of self-cultivation and governance.

First, it states that heaven reveals auspicious or ominous signs through celestial phenomena, visible to all; when rulers issue decrees and clarify rewards and punishments, the people will trust them. The ruler is as vital as heaven itself. Just as fish surface to breathe when water turns murky, harsh governance inevitably stirs unrest among the people—this is an inexorable principle. Thus, when rulers harbor excessive desires, the people resort to deceit; when rulers embrace tranquility, the people refrain from contention. Sages uphold the Dao (the Way) and practice sincerity, naturally drawing the world to follow—this is grasping the root of governance.

Laozi teaches that when one's Shen (spirit) scatters and thoughts become chaotic, self-cultivation becomes impossible. The further one pursues external things, the farther one strays from the Dao. Therefore, one need not step outside to understand worldly affairs, nor peer through windows to comprehend heavenly principles. The farther one travels outwardly, the less one truly knows. This demonstrates that inner Jing (essence) and sincerity can resonate with the Qi (vital energy) of heaven and earth.

When heaven and earth interact, all things flourish; when sages emerge, all things manifest—this is the natural way of resonance. The human heart connects with heaven because our physical form and life originate from it. Thus, with sincere Jing within, one can move the divine Qi of heaven. A pure and luminous heart reflects like a mirror, revealing beauty and ugliness naturally—how could one not be cautious?

Laozi further observes that winter sunlight and summer shade draw all things spontaneously, without need for coercion. The subtlest resonance comes unsummoned and departs unbidden—profoundly mysterious yet effortlessly accomplished. If governance waits for visible proof before belief, or commands before action, ruling becomes arduous. Consider Gaoyao (the mute minister of Emperor Shun), whose mere presence abolished cruel punishments, or Shi Kuang (the blind musician of Jin), whose influence kept state affairs orderly. Edicts unspoken, discernment unseen—these are the models sages emulate.

Just as the yangsui (ancient solar igniter) cannot produce fire without the sun, or the fangzhu (ancient lunar water collector) cannot gather dew without the moon, governance without rightful authority achieves nothing, just as authority without proper governance builds no merit. When rulers like Yao and Shun harmonized Dao with position, their teachings spread, officials rectified, and the people followed—thus they became paragons for centuries.

The people learn not from rulers' words but their actions. If a ruler favors valor, though never encouraging strife, the state will face calamities ending in violence. If a ruler indulges lust, though never promoting debauchery, the state will descend into chaos culminating in dissipation. Therefore, sages discern truth through the refinement of Jing and sincerity.

This passage expounds the fundamental principles of governance and moral cultivation. The core teaching reveals that external punishments and executions cannot truly transform social customs—the key lies in the ruler's sincere inner virtue (De).

When a ruler's heart is genuinely sincere, their outward words and actions naturally become upright. Like shadows following forms or clear water flowing from pure sources, no amount of legal penalties can reform social mores, nor can severe executions eradicate wickedness. Only spiritual transformation holds true value. When sincerity reaches its utmost, it influences others as naturally as springtime nourishes all beings or autumn withers vegetation.

A ruler must carefully consider how their conduct affects the people, like an archer aware that the slightest deviation magnifies over distance. The sovereign is the root of the populace, just as the heart governs the body. If rulers glorify military force, violence erupts; if they indulge in sensual pleasures, licentiousness spreads. Only by honoring virtue (De) and maintaining inner sincerity can they subdue wickedness without punishments. When the nation's foundation is stable, peace prevails naturally.

Laozi teaches that merely issuing decrees or establishing rewards cannot transform customs—what matters is whether one possesses sincere intention. The music of a region reveals its character; its customs demonstrate the depth of its cultivation. Those who embody perfect sincerity can move heaven and earth, influencing even spirits. The highest form of governance transforms through spiritual resonance; next comes making people dare not commit evil; the lowest method relies on rewarding the worthy and punishing the violent.

Just as mountains glow by concealing jade and waters deepen by holding pearls, inner virtue (De) manifests naturally. The ancient sage Boyi needed no words—his mere presence reformed the unruly. Empty words without corresponding action will never gain the people's trust.

The essence of the great Dao (the cosmic origin) is Wuwei (non-action), which means leaving no traces. Tracelessness maintains formlessness; formlessness prevents reckless movement; without reckless movement, there is no reckless speech. This invisible, soundless state—unseen and unheard yet endlessly continuous—constitutes the foundation of heaven and earth. Because the Dao has neither form nor sound, the sages reluctantly named it "Dao" as a provisional designation.

The operation of Heaven and Earth takes small things as its foundation, just as written characters are formed by individual strokes. The Son of Heaven (the ruler) emulates the laws of Heaven and Earth, utilizing all things as resources, thereby establishing the most magnificent merit and attaining the most honorable reputation. This virtue matches that of Heaven and Earth, so one must follow the Dao, for the Dao is the fundamental source that nurtures all under heaven.

The Dao (cosmic origin), Heaven, Earth, and the ruler are collectively called the "Four Greats within the realm." The Dao is naturally Wuwei (non-action) and thus eternally abiding; Heaven does not speak yet is profoundly unfathomable; Earth makes no sound yet is vast and substantial. As the Son of Heaven, master of Earth, and parent to the people, the ruler nurtures all things without claiming merit, thus achieving the greatest virtue and most honorable reputation, unsurpassed by any.

Laozi said: Relieving poverty and aiding those in distress brings reputation; promoting benefits and eliminating harm accomplishes merit. Yet if the world were free from calamity, even sages would have no opportunity to manifest virtue; if harmony prevailed between high and low, even worthies could not establish merit. Therefore, the governance of those who attain the Dao involves inwardly embracing virtue and outwardly aligning with Heaven's way, sincerely bestowing while possessing boundless wisdom yet remaining silent. The world does not recognize the value of this "wordlessness"—for the true Dao cannot be described in speech, and true names cannot be defined by labels. What is inscribed on bamboo slips or cast in metal and stone to be passed down are merely superficial traces. The Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and Three Kings (ancient sage rulers) employed different methods but shared the same essence; their paths diverged but their goals converged. Later scholars fail to comprehend the substance of the Dao and the essence of De (Virtue), merely imitating the surface forms of their predecessors' accomplishments, sitting idly while engaging in empty discourse—even with extensive learning, they inevitably fall into confusion.

The true Dao encompasses three levels: Those in high positions must cultivate inner virtue and give sincerely; those in middle positions must relieve poverty and promote benefits while eliminating harm; those in humble positions must be self-sufficient without greedy demands. By grasping the needs of the time and understanding adaptability, whether engaging in public service or reclusion, different approaches can achieve the same effect—one need not rely on written records to connect with the spirit of ancient sages.

Laozi further pointed out: The most subtle wisdom can commune with the divine yet is difficult to articulate. Sages can rectify the world without leaving their seats, for genuine feeling is more powerful than commands. The same words, when spoken by a sincere person, inspire belief; the same orders, when implemented by a trustworthy person, prove effective. When sages occupy high positions, the people are transformed as if touched by divine spirits—this is because sages first move human hearts with true emotion.

This scripture explores the intrinsic power of genuine emotion and its external influence. Using the metaphor of an infant and its loving mother: a three-month-old baby knows nothing of worldly concerns, yet the mother's love grows ever deeper—this is the authentic feeling arising from the heart. Truly powerful words are often brief, while wordless influence can resonate even more profoundly.

The Yellow Emperor's classics state that human nature originates from heaven, with the heart-mind as its pivot. The ruler resembles the heart of heaven and earth, for the inner heart is the wellspring of spiritual wisdom. Once inner emotions are stirred, they manifest through words and actions. Benevolent thoughts can summon responses from a thousand miles away, just as malice invites resistance from afar. Thus, when sages occupy positions of authority, their transformative influence operates as if divinely aided—without leaving their seats, they rectify the world.

Laozi observed that children sacrificing for their fathers or ministers dying for their rulers do not seek fame, but act from heartfelt gratitude. Such sincerity flows naturally, never forced. Sages remain unmoved by external judgments, while noble individuals maintain vigilance even in solitude. To abandon the root at hand is to drift ever further from the Dao.

The text cites examples like Chang Hong dying for his ruler and Shen Sheng sacrificing for his father, illustrating how loyalty and filial piety spring from inner conviction. When sage-kings reign, the people enjoy peace; when sages withdraw into seclusion, their virtue still commands admiration. Just as a warrior's furious shout can make armies retreat, this is the power of authenticity. When Sun Tzu trained troops, he emphasized that true courage stems from inner sincerity—thus, even when the King of Wu's favorite concubine violated military orders, he upheld discipline without compromise.

Ultimately, words emerge from the mouth, while actions arise from the heart. Sincere influence requires no deliberate display, just as sages need not descend from their seats to transform the world—the key lies in turning inward. Some truths elude verbal expression yet reveal themselves through bearing and conduct; when even bearing falls short, spiritual resonance bridges the gap. Such subtle communion transmits through physical contact yet defies verbal confinement.

When speech lacks sincerity, calamity befalls one's subordinates—how can those who govern a state neglect the importance of truthful words and deeds? Laozi teaches that words must have their guiding principle, and actions must have their foundation. Losing this principle and foundation, no amount of skill can compensate; it is better to speak sparingly. Just as the legendary craftsman Chui (renowned for his skill during Emperor Yao's reign) would have his fingers severed if his ingenuity harmed the people—demonstrating that excessive cleverness is undesirable. Thus, the true master craftsman does not flaunt cleverness, for true wisdom lies in knowing when to remain silent.

The sage abhors excessive words and actions, holding fast to the root of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue). When imparting teachings, they need not speak much, and so they never fail; when handling affairs, they follow the natural course, and so they avoid calamity. Ordinary people, though skilled in countless techniques, become enslaved by their own cleverness, rarely escaping self-inflicted harm. The master craftsman accomplishes tasks without relying on cleverness—thus, even without locks, doors remain secure; yet doors deliberately locked can still be pried open by thieves. Where, then, lies the fundamental Dao?

Laozi says the sage’s methods may differ, yet all paths lead to the same end. Whether preserving or transforming, settling chaos or restoring order, their heart remains steadfast in benefiting others. Just as the songs of Qin, Chu, Yan, and Wei differ in melody but all express joy, and the lamentations of the Nine Yi and Eight Di tribes vary yet convey the same sorrow—singing flows from happiness, weeping from grief, for inner emotions naturally manifest outwardly. The sage’s heart is ever devoted to benefiting others, and this grace naturally spreads far and wide.

The sage is not without desires but fulfills them by following the nature of things; they are not inactive but act only when the time is right. Though methods vary, the goal remains the same—whether preserving or perishing, they uphold principle, willingly bearing loss to benefit others, their thoughts ever turned toward the world. Even when customs and languages differ, the essence of human joy and sorrow remains universal. Consider how the Duke of Zhou toiled day and night for the state—such tireless devotion to the people ensures that grace extends boundlessly.

Laozi teaches that one should govern by following nature, for forced action brings harm. "Governing through Wuwei (non-action)" means achieving order by refraining from arbitrary interference. Those who force action cannot attain true Wuwei, and those who fail at Wuwei cannot truly accomplish anything. In silence, the Shen (spirit) gathers; in excessive speech, it dissipates. The state of "wordless spirit" carries the mystery of Dao—prolixity damages this divine subtlety.

The body has form, but the spirit is formless. What has form may be spoken of; what is formless needs no words. Only by understanding the relationship between "being" and "non-being" can one grasp the true meaning of Dao.

All things mutually generate and restrain each other, appearing contradictory yet fundamentally harmonious. The sage (one who has attained the Dao) governs the world through Wuwei (non-action), keeping the body unharmed and preventing the spirit from injuring the physical form. True wisdom lies not in superficial supernatural abilities, but in understanding how all things coexist without mutual harm.

Nanrong Chu (an ancient worthy) initially disdained the way of sages, but after receiving teachings from Laozi (founder of Daoism), his spirit suddenly became transparent and clear. For ten days he ate nothing yet felt as satisfied as at a grand feast, ultimately attaining wisdom that illuminated the world and left his virtuous name for posterity. This demonstrates how reputation can be achieved through diligent effort. Just as farmers who don't till diligently will have empty granaries, officials who govern laxly achieve little, generals and ministers who don't strive accomplish no great deeds, and negligent rulers fade into obscurity.

Those who have attained the Dao act with subtlety like hidden thunder, moving according to the timing of Heaven, achieving merit through existing conditions, advancing and withdrawing with perfect freedom. Nanrong Chu's later devotion to learning proves success can come through diligent study. Sages act in concealed ways, complying with circumstances and establishing merit through available conditions, thus finding nothing difficult to accomplish.

The truly enlightened maintain sincere hearts, their De (Virtue/Power) influencing all directions. They rejoice when the world benefits and grieve when it suffers. Those who share the people's sorrows will have the people share theirs; those who delight in the people's joys will have the people rejoice with them. Such heart-bound rulers inevitably become true kings.

The sage's method of governance: begins with imperceptible subtlety and culminates in unattainable heights. Establishing an invincible position, storing inexhaustible resources, their decrees flow like an eternal spring, allowing all people to find their proper place. They open the gates of success without attempting the impossible, pursuing the unattainable, dwelling in dangerous positions, or repeating mistakes. When enlightened rulers implement policies that please the people, compliance comes naturally. Policies aligned with popular will make small states flourish; those opposing it turn good governance into calamity and success into failure.

This passage describes how rulers of different spiritual attainments govern the world. The most enlightened "Zhiren" (Perfect Person) regards the people as an extension of himself, sharing their joys and sorrows. When the people rejoice, he rejoices; when they grieve, he grieves. Such rulers invariably achieve true kingship.

The "Shengren" (Sage) governs with sublime subtlety—his methods leave no trace at the beginning and no mark at the end, his decrees flowing as naturally as water. The "Daren" (Great Person, virtuous ruler) implements policies that win hearts by their inherent righteousness, issuing commands in harmony with celestial timing. When edicts align with popular sentiment, the people obey; when they violate cosmic principles, the people suffer harm.

A true great man possesses inner strength like heaven and earth, with outward radiance like sun and moon. As heaven and earth embrace all things, as sun and moon illuminate all quarters, so the Great Person guides the people through virtuous example. He neither capriciously alters traditions nor lightly changes established laws. The world follows his commands as grass bends before the wind.

If springtime governance errs, the Suixing (Wood Star/Jupiter) will stray from its course; summer misgovernance causes Yinghuo (Fire Star/Mars) to retrograde; autumn errors make Taibai (Metal Star/Venus) appear irregularly; winter faults lead Chenxing (Water Star/Mercury) astray. When all seasonal governance fails, Zhenxing (Earth Star/Saturn) becomes unstable, sun and moon show anomalies, the five planets move chaotically, and even comets may appear. Conversely, proper spring governance brings abundant harvests; correct summer governance ensures favorable weather; proper autumn governance enriches the people; appropriate winter governance secures national peace.

Humans receive the numinous Qi of heaven and earth, with the heart-mind serving as the abode of Shenming (divine intelligence). The Great Person possesses greater spiritual sensitivity than ordinary people. Every thought—whether virtuous or wicked—is witnessed by heaven. Thus the success or failure of governance manifests through calamities or auspicious signs, corresponding precisely to specific affairs without error. As the Shangshu (Book of Documents) states: "He who slights the spirits and oppresses the people will not receive heaven's protection." How then can those who govern afford to be anything but meticulous?