《文子纘義》Vol. 3

This scripture primarily expounds on the generative principles of heaven, earth, and all things, as well as the relationship between the human body and nature.

Laozi states that before heaven and earth took form, the cosmos existed in a state of profound chaos and obscurity. Eventually, the clear Qi (vital energy) rose to become heaven, while the turbid Qi sank to form earth. The most refined Qi shaped the heavens, the denser Qi solidified into the earth, and the division of Yin-Yang energies gave rise to the four seasons. The essence (Jing) transformed into humans, while the coarser Qi produced insects and creatures. The interaction of hardness and softness brought forth all things in existence. Human spirit (Shen) originates from heaven, while the physical body and bones derive from earth. Thus, sages emulate heaven and earth—unfettered by worldly constraints, unswayed by external temptations—regarding heaven as their father and earth as their mother, taking Yin-Yang as their guiding principle and the four seasons as their natural law.

When heaven and earth are tranquil and clear, all things flourish; violating this order leads to decay. Emptiness, stillness, and non-being are the dwelling places of the divine spirit (Shenming) and the abode of the Dao (the Way). Laozi illustrates the cosmic generative process with the phrase: "The Dao gives birth to the One, the One gives birth to the Two, the Two gives birth to the Three, and the Three gives birth to the myriad things." All things contain both Yin and Yang energies, achieving harmony through their dynamic equilibrium.

The text then describes human embryonic development: in the first month, the embryo takes form; in the second, blood vessels appear; in the third, the initial shape emerges; in the fourth, the fetus solidifies; in the fifth, tendons develop; in the sixth, bones form; in the seventh, the body fully takes shape; in the eighth, movement begins; in the ninth, restlessness sets in; and by the tenth month, birth occurs. Each organ in the human body has its function, mirroring the correspondences between the body and the cosmos: the round head resembles heaven, the square feet reflect earth; the four limbs align with the four seasons, the five organs correspond to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the nine orifices relate to the nine luminaries (sun, moon, and the seven planets), and the 360 joints symbolize the days of the year.

Finally, the text emphasizes that the human heart is the sovereign, just as heaven and earth operate according to their inherent laws. If the sun and moon deviate from their courses, eclipses occur; if wind and rain fall out of season, disasters arise; if the stars stray from their paths, calamity befalls nations. Therefore, sages understand the importance of moderating sensory indulgence, nurturing the spirit (Shen), and preventing excessive depletion of vital energies.

This scripture expounds the essential principles of Daoist life-nourishment and mind-cultivation. The Qi (vital energy) and blood (life force) within the human body form the foundation of external manifestations, while the Five Viscera (heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys) contain the body's essential Jing (essence). When Qi and blood remain concentrated internally without dissipation, the chest and abdomen become substantial, and desires naturally diminish. With fewer desires, the ears and eyes attain clarity, with hearing and vision becoming acutely perceptive—this state is called "illumination."

If the Qi of the Five Viscera returns to and remains anchored in the heart without scattering, one's willpower grows strong, actions stay free from deviation, and the Shen (spirit) remains full so the primordial Qi doesn't dissipate. In this state, nothing heard goes uncomprehended, nothing seen escapes notice, and no endeavor fails to succeed. Calamities find no entry, and pathogenic influences cannot invade. Conversely, excessive craving yields little gain, and overbroad vision results in shallow understanding.

The body's orifices (eyes, ears, mouth, nose, etc.) serve as gateways for the Shen's movement, while Qi and blood act as envoys of the Five Viscera. When eyes and ears indulge in sensory pleasures, the Viscera become unsettled, Qi and blood churn restlessly, and the Shen scatters uncontrollably. Even when fortune or disaster stands mountain-high before such a person, they remain oblivious.

Thus, those who attain the Dao practice moderation: maintaining clear, unobstructed senses free from temptation, keeping the mind anchored in purity, reducing desires to pacify the Viscera, and preserving the Shen within so the physical form stays integrated. This enables perception of past, present, and future, with clear discernment of fortune's roots. The more the Shen wanders outward, the less true understanding remains.

The Five Colors (blue, red, yellow, white, black) disrupt vision; the Five Tones (pentatonic scale) disturb hearing; the Five Flavors (sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty) harm taste. Craving dissipates primordial Qi, while attachment and aversion deplete vital energy. Without timely restraint, one's willpower gradually diminishes.

People fail to reach their natural lifespan because they excessively pursue pleasure. Only those who don't deliberately chase longevity ultimately attain it. Heaven and Earth operate through interconnected movement, and all things return to their root—the "One" (Dao). Those who comprehend this "One" know all things; those who don't comprehend it truly understand nothing.

We dwell within Heaven and Earth as one among myriad beings. No inherent separation exists between things—no need to cling to life, death, nobility, or baseness. By settling peacefully in accordance with natural disposition and avoiding extremes, one unexpectedly reaches supreme joy. This constitutes the profound meaning of "guarding emptiness" (maintaining serene openness).

Here Laozi expounds on the way of the sage in worldly affairs. The sage understands how to follow circumstances while maintaining fundamental integrity, dwelling contentedly in their era. He observes that excessive joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure can disrupt one's De (Virtue), while strong preferences and aversions become burdens to the heart. Therefore, the sage lives in accordance with natural laws and transforms with all things after death; in stillness they harmonize with yin virtue, in movement they dance with yang Qi.

The heart governs the body, while Shen (spirit) is the treasure of the mind. When the body is overworked it collapses, when spirit is overused it exhausts. Thus the sage carefully observes these principles, using emptiness to respond to fullness, employing vacancy to receive substance, maintaining a serene and detached mind throughout life. They neither deliberately distance nor particularly favor anyone, upholding moral cultivation while dwelling in harmony with nature. Neither actively pursuing blessings nor avoiding misfortunes, not even life and death can alter their mental state—this is the realm of "ultimate spirituality." Those who attain this state obtain whatever they seek and accomplish whatever they undertake.

The truly transcendent view worldly matters with perfect equanimity, thus their spirit remains unburdened; regarding all things as insignificant, their heart stays unconfused; equating life and death, their will knows no fear; merging with transformation, their wisdom avoids disorder. The perfected ones (those of supreme moral cultivation) are like pillars that never bend, walking paths without obstacles, possessing inexhaustible wells of wisdom while learning from eternal teachers. Wherever they go, they proceed smoothly; whatever they do, they accomplish completely; facing any circumstance, they maintain perfect clarity.

Those steadfast in Dao's principles can be influenced by benevolence but not coerced by force; guided by righteousness but not tempted by profit. Gentlemen may sacrifice for righteousness—neither wealth nor status can retain them, nor can death intimidate them, let alone those who have attained Wuwei (non-action)? The Wuwei practitioner has no worldly attachments, viewing all under heaven as insubstantial as shadows. Looking upward to observe the realm of perfected beings and deeply investigate Dao's truth, then examining worldly behaviors below, they find mundane pursuits truly shameful. Those who don't burden their hearts with worldly matters establish influence as profound as a great drum.

As for power, status, and material benefits—these worldly desires pale in comparison to life itself. Thus the sage seeks only enough food to satisfy hunger and nourish Qi, sufficient clothing to cover the body and ward off cold, knowing moderation without craving excess. They purify their vision to avoid random looking, quiet their hearing to avoid indiscriminate listening, close their mouths to avoid careless speech, release their thoughts to avoid needless worry, abandon petty cleverness to return to simple essence, nurture spirit while eliminating cunning, maintaining neither particular preferences nor aversions—this constitutes true understanding. Eliminating impurities and discarding burdens—this is the essential method of cultivation.

This passage from Wenzi Zuanyi (Supplemental Meanings of Master Wen) elucidates three essential principles for self-cultivation and embodying the Dao (the Way):

The first section discusses "maintaining simplicity" (shouyi). Ancient practitioners of the Dao understood how to harmonize their temperament and nurture their innate nature, preserving a state of balanced moderation. They found contentment in Dao and De (Virtue/Power), forgetting worldly distinctions of wealth and poverty. By harboring no covetous desires within, they paradoxically attained everything. They refused to burden their virtue with anything detrimental to their true nature or disrupt their harmony with matters unbeneficial to life. Rather than indulging in excess, they adhered to natural principles, becoming models for all under heaven. Taking only what they needed without greed, they could possess the world yet never claim it as their own. Such individuals never lost their fundamental nature due to external circumstances of wealth or status—they were true knowers of the Dao.

The second section addresses "maintaining purity" (shouqing). Though all humans receive vital Qi (vital energy) from heaven and earth, and sensory perceptions of sound, sight, smell, and taste are fundamentally similar, outcomes diverge into life and death, wisdom and folly—the difference lies in cultivating the Shen (spirit). The heart-mind is the wellspring of wisdom; when purified, wisdom becomes luminous. Just as people use clear water rather than muddied water to reflect in mirrors, only with a tranquil heart-mind and balanced awareness can one perceive reality's essence. A dust-free mirror remains bright; an unclouded heart-mind stays free from desire's delusions. When sages govern the world, they first comprehend the authentic nature of human life.

The third section explores "maintaining authenticity" (shouzhen). What we call sages are simply those who follow their innate nature without distortion. They eat according to need, dress appropriately, and practice moderation—thus no greed arises. Those who truly possess the world never treat it as personal property; those who gain renown never pursue it through extreme behavior. By thoroughly understanding the fundamental nature of life, humaneness and righteousness naturally adhere. As for those whose heart-mind remains unobscured and whose inner being carries no burdens—they move through the world unimpeded, serene and detached.

(Note: Master Wenzi was a prominent Daoist figure traditionally regarded as a disciple of Laozi; "Zuanyi" means inheriting and elaborating essential teachings. This content embodies core Daoist principles of clarity, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action), emphasizing the return to primordial authenticity through inner cultivation to achieve unity with the Dao.)

A true cultivator remains unmoved by the temptations of power and profit, unswayed by sensory pleasures. The most eloquent cannot persuade them, the wisest cannot shake their resolve, and the fiercest cannot intimidate them. This is the state of one who has attained the Dao (the Way). The creative force of life itself never perishes, and the source that nurtures all things never changes. Those who fail to understand this principle—even if they could command heaven and earth, possess wisdom bright as sun and moon, wield rhetoric capable of unraveling the most complex truths, or craft writings as exquisite as carved jade—would contribute nothing to governing the world. Thus, the sage always holds fast to the root: maintaining inner tranquility.

Laozi said: Serenity and wuwei (non-action), simplicity and few desires form the foundation of nurturing life; equanimity and joy, an open and receptive mind, are the basis for sustaining De (Virtue). When external disturbances do not agitate the heart, one's nature remains harmonious; when inner peace remains undisturbed, De becomes steadfast. To live by the principles of nurturing life and uphold De until the end of one's days—this is true comprehension of the Dao. Such a person's qi (vital energy) flows unimpeded, the energies of the five organs are balanced, neither misfortune nor fortune can sway them, and neither praise nor slander can tarnish them. Yet without the right era, even the most capable cannot manifest their gifts. Just as eyes fixed on the finest hair cannot hear the crash of thunder, and ears attuned to the chime of jade cannot see the vastness of Mount Tai—fixation on the trivial obscures the essential. The myriad things of the world are like a raging torrent ceaselessly drawing from the wellspring of our lives—how could one avoid the dissipation of jing (essence) and qi? Like a basin of water that, after a day of settling, reflects even an eyebrow's shadow, yet with one stir becomes too turbid to discern shapes—so too is the human shen (spirit), difficult to clarify and all too easily muddied.

Laozi said: The highest ruler emulates the Dao of heaven, the next esteems the worthy, and the lowest relies on ministers. To depend on ministers is the path to peril; to venerate the worthy is the beginning of confusion; to follow the Dao is the root of governance. Taking emptiness and stillness as the foundation, emptiness allows all things to be contained, and stillness preserves them. Only by understanding the way of emptiness and stillness can one begin well and end well. Thus, the sage governs through stillness, for disorder often arises from reckless action. Without interference or coercion, all things become clear; without alarm or oppression, all things find their order. This is the law of heaven's Dao.

Laozi said: Emperors and feudal lords regard the world and states as their estate, and all things as their possessions. To possess vast realms and abundant things easily breeds arrogance and complacency. Great states readily invade smaller ones with force...

Those who are arrogant, bully their subordinates, and are insatiably greedy are like violent storms that cannot last. Therefore, the sage restrains themselves with the Dao, upholding the principle of wuwei (non-action, following nature without forced interference), never depleting their inner qi of harmony. Those who understand how to restrain the small, maintain softness, and retreat at the proper time can embrace all things like rivers and seas—precisely because rivers and seas willingly occupy the lowest places, they achieve greatness; they do not force fame, yet fame naturally comes; they willingly become the humble (symbolized by the feminine) of the world, thus attaining eternity; only those who know self-respect can achieve nobility.

Even with the power of ruling ten thousand chariots (a metaphor for vast authority), one must take nurturing all beings as their true work. The heavier the power, the more one must avoid recklessness—recklessness leads to loss. The great Dao appears vast, yet it accumulates from the smallest; it seems abundant, yet simplicity is its root. Thus, the sage governs the world with the Dao: what appears soft and subtle is actually the understanding of restraint; what seems frugal and disciplined is actually the wisdom of discernment. Only through restraint can one achieve greatness; only through discernment can one attain perfection.

The law of Heaven’s Dao is to lower the high and raise the low, to reduce the excessive and supplement the insufficient. Rivers and seas willingly occupy low-lying places, so all streams flow into them; the sage remains humble and serene, yielding without contention—seemingly in a low position, yet they attain loftiness; seemingly lacking, yet they achieve virtue. The arrogant cannot stand firm, the extravagant cannot endure, the violent invite disaster, and the complacent ultimately fail. Violent storms do not last all day, and small streams overflow in an instant—because violent storms are the qi of force, they quickly dissipate; small streams in dominant positions are easily plundered.

Therefore, the sage upholds softness (symbolized by the feminine virtue), discards extravagance and arrogance, and dares not engage in forceful struggles. Precisely by maintaining softness, they stand firm in strength; precisely by avoiding extravagance and arrogance, they endure.

Laozi said: The law of Heaven’s Dao is that things reverse at their extremes; fullness leads to decline, as evidenced by the movement of the sun and moon. Thus, the sage daily reduces desires, maintains emptiness and stillness, and dares not become complacent; daily advancing in the virtue of softness (symbolized by the feminine Dao), their merit does not wane. Human nature favors the high and despises the low, favors gain and despises loss, favors benefit and despises harm, favors nobility and despises baseness. Ordinary people chase these, yet they cannot succeed; cling to them, yet they cannot obtain. The sage emulates Heaven’s Dao, achieving without deliberate action, gaining without forceful grasping. Though they share emotions with ordinary people, they follow a different Dao, and thus they endure.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (legendary sage rulers of antiquity) once created a warning vessel called the "Admonishing Goblet"—upright when empty, it topples when full. All things decline after reaching their peak: the sun declines after reaching noon, the moon wanes after becoming full, joy turns to sorrow at its extreme—this is the law of Heaven’s Dao in motion.

This passage expounds the core wisdom of Daoist self-cultivation. It first presents five essential principles for governing the world: the wise should maintain an appearance of simplicity, the knowledgeable should restrain their brilliance, the courageous should harbor reverence, the wealthy should practice moderation, and those who widely practice virtue should remain humble. These five qualities represent the fundamental principles by which ancient sage-kings ruled the world. Those who follow these principles do not pursue perfection to the extreme, and precisely because they avoid seeking absolute fulfillment, they can renew themselves perpetually.

The text then uses Laozi's teachings to describe the realm of sages. Sages can synchronize with the transformations of Yin-Yang, attaining supreme joy precisely by transcending ordinary pleasures. True happiness originates from inner cultivation rather than external possessions. The key lies in self-refinement, not material objects. When body and mind are properly cultivated, all things naturally become complete. Those who reach this state of mind transcend worldly emotions like joy and anger, perceiving the fundamental unity of all things.

True scholars possess unwavering integrity, just as virtuous women maintain constant moral character. Their nobility doesn't derive from power, their wealth doesn't come from material possessions, and their strength isn't borrowed from external forces. They neither covet riches nor chase empty fame, remaining neither arrogant in prominence nor anxious in obscurity, keeping their physical form, spirit (Shen), and vital energy (Qi) all in proper balance. Here the text explains the three essential components of life: the physical body serves as life's dwelling, primordial energy (Qi) constitutes life's foundation, and spirit (Shen) acts as life's sovereign. When these three become imbalanced, they harm one another.

Those excessively greedy become obsessed with power and fame. Though they may possess extraordinary intelligence and prominent status, their spiritual essence gradually depletes. When the body becomes closed and the heart resistant, the Dao cannot enter, leading to disorders of confusion and delusion. Spiritual energy requires tranquil nourishment to grow substantial, while agitation causes gradual dissipation. Therefore, sages emphasize nurturing the spirit (Shen), harmonizing vital energy (Qi), and pacifying the physical form, thereby wandering with the Dao. In this way, they adapt to all transformations and respond appropriately to every circumstance.

Finally, the text explains the realm of "Zhenren" (perfected persons who have attained the Dao): their nature merges with the Dao, appearing empty yet containing fullness within. They focus on inner cultivation, maintain their original simplicity, comprehend the most fundamental truths, and naturally practice Wuwei (non-action) to return to their authentic selves, preserving both the root of life and the essence of spirit.

This passage describes the spiritual state and way of life of perfected beings (those who have attained the highest level of cultivation). They roam freely within the primordial source of heaven and earth, transcending worldly dust and defilements, dwelling in serene contentment within the realm of Wuwei (non-action).

Their minds are pure and unblemished, unburdened by cunning calculations, maintaining flawless clarity undisturbed by external phenomena. Amidst the flux of worldly affairs, they steadfastly preserve the fundamental Dao. With single-pointed concentration, they perceive fortune and misfortune as one. At rest, they know not what to do; in motion, they know not where to go. Without study they understand, without looking they know, without deliberate action they accomplish, without forced governance they discern. They respond when moved, act only when compelled, proceed only when necessary—like light that naturally illuminates or shadows that naturally follow, perfectly aligned with the principles of the great Dao.

They maintain a state of vast emptiness and tranquil stillness, embodying purity and non-action. They perceive all diverse phenomena as sharing one origin, viewing myriad transformations as rooted in one foundation. Though possessing Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), they never squander them; though endowed with Shen (spirit), they never misuse it. They preserve the primal simplicity of the beginning and abide in the most subtle state. Dreamless in sleep, their minds generate no deluded thoughts; their actions leave no traces, their stillness has no form. Present yet seemingly absent, alive yet as if deceased, they freely traverse all spaces and command spirits and deities. This manifests how their Shen can communicate with the Dao.

When the spirit flows unimpeded without losing its original nature, maintaining harmonious unity with all things day and night without interruption—this is the state born from the mind's union with the Dao. Thus, though the physical form may perish, the spirit never changes. Responding to infinite transformations with unchanging constancy, it undergoes countless metamorphoses yet never exhausts itself. What transforms ultimately returns to formlessness; what remains unchanged shares birth with heaven and earth. The true progenitor of life is itself unborn—only what it generates is born; the true agent of transformation does not itself transform—only what it transforms changes. This is the realm of perfected beings, the consummate purity of the great Dao.