《文子纘義》Vol. 9

This passage from Wenzi Zuanyi expounds on the principle of "lower virtue" (Xiade). It first clarifies that the supreme "Way of the Highest" (Taishang zhi Dao) operates through natural non-action (Wuwei) yet accomplishes all things. The discussion then unfolds on two levels:

Regarding self-cultivation, the highest practice involves nurturing the spirit (Yang Shen) – maintaining mental tranquility and joy, which forms the foundation of life cultivation. The secondary approach focuses on preserving the physical form (Yang Xing), preventing bodily exhaustion while keeping the skin supple. Those who merely indulge sensory pleasures and chase material satisfaction are abandoning the root for the branches.

In state governance, the most sublime method employs virtuous transformation (Yanghua), inspiring people toward goodness through moral influence. The alternative establishes impartial laws (Zhengfa), regulating behavior through rewards and punishments. The former enables citizens to become virtuous effortlessly, representing governance at its fundamental level. Though the latter maintains order, it remains an inferior approach.

The author laments how rarely true rulers mastering statecraft emerge, and how exceptional ministers capable of assisting enlightened sovereigns prove even rarer. Thus, achieving perfect governance becomes a phenomenon witnessed perhaps once in a millennium.

(Note: Key terms include "Taishang" [the Supreme], "Yang Shen" [spirit cultivation], and "Yanghua" [ethical transformation] – all essential Daoist concepts)

Ancient commentaries state that a sage is born only once in a thousand years, and a worthy person appears only once in five hundred years. For virtuous individuals to align and be born in the same era is an event so rare it may occur only after immense stretches of time. Some say that when a ruler is sagely, his ministers will be virtuous, and such ministers can assist their lord in achieving the heights of Yao and Shun. But if the celestial Qi (vital energy) descends while the earthly Qi fails to respond, or if fertile land suffers floods and droughts, how can even Heaven and Earth always harmonize? How then can rulers and ministers consistently share the same heart and virtue? Truly, an era of great peace is exceedingly rare.

The establishment of hegemonic achievements is not something every generation can accomplish. Ancient commentaries note that even the way of the hegemon cannot be passed down through successive eras. By following the innate goodness of the people, guarding against wicked thoughts, and guiding them with shared principles, customs will remain pure and traditions virtuous. The commentaries further explain that nurturing goodness and preventing evil need not rely on harsh laws and punishments; when all abide by the Dao (the Way), governance naturally reaches perfection through gradual transformation.

What makes sages truly valuable is not their reliance on punishments for crimes, but their ability to discern the root causes of chaos. The commentaries emphasize prevention before disorder arises. If people are allowed to indulge their desires unchecked and are only punished after breaking the law, even if the entire world were oppressed, wrongdoing could never be fully eradicated. As the commentaries say, failing to address the source and only suppressing crimes after they occur is like carrying firewood to extinguish a blaze—it only feeds the flames.

The Wenzi Zuanyi elaborates further: The meeting of enlightened rulers and worthy ministers is a rarity across millennia. Sagely rulers are uncommon, and exceptional ministers are even rarer—perhaps one in ten thousand. After the reigns of Yao and Shun, examples like King Tang finding Yi Yin or King Wen encountering Lü Shang are few and far between. Even Duke Huan of Qi securing a wise minister like Guan Zhong was not an event repeated in every era. Thus, orderly ages are scarce while chaotic ones abound—perhaps because noble individuals are few while petty ones are many.

Laozi said: Though one may dwell in seclusion by rivers and seas, the mind may still linger on the glory of the imperial court—this reveals a reverence for life. Those who revere life will hold material gain lightly. The commentaries explain that though such individuals may not entirely forget worldly honors, they can still find contentment in tranquil living, making them people who value life over profit. If inner conflict proves insurmountable, it is better to follow one’s nature—this way, the spirit (Shen) remains unharmed. The commentaries add that when internal struggle becomes uncontrollable, yielding to the heart’s inclination preserves life. Forcing suppression causes twofold harm, and such individuals seldom live long.

This passage elucidates Daoist wisdom regarding self-cultivation and harmonizing with nature.

Regarding the Dao (the Way) of nurturing life, forcibly pursuing tranquility while clinging to attachments will only doubly harm one's vitality. Those who truly understand the Dao of harmony follow natural rhythms—excessive pursuit of longevity ironically invites misfortune, while attempting to forcefully control Qi (vital energy) and blood through sheer willpower backfires. Only those who relinquish selfish desires and abide in their innate nature comprehend heavenly principle. By further aligning with the most harmonious rhythms of heaven and earth, one can penetrate the essence of life and death, attaining genuine longevity.

There is no inherent superiority between pursuing officialdom or reclusion—those who attain the Dao know to assess circumstances wisely: withdrawing when appropriate, acting when necessary. This is the state of being in accord with the Dao.

The easiest thing in the world is to do good, while the hardest is to commit evil. Doing good means maintaining clarity and Wuwei (non-action), shedding excessive desires, and preserving innate purity—this is humanity's natural state. Evil, however, requires defying one's nature, filling oneself with deceit and greed, making it paradoxically difficult. Aligning with the Dao brings auspiciousness and ease; opposing it invites calamity and hardship.

Modern people's greatest misfortune lies in insatiable greed and lack of restraint. Thus, when facing profit, harm, fortune, or misfortune, one must discern with utmost clarity. Sages, being free of selfish desires, need not deliberately avoid anything. Often, the more one seeks to gain, the more one loses; the more one flees, the more one encounters. Like the thief who saw only gold but forgot the principle of avoiding harm.

Therefore, sages carefully gauge the dynamics of movement and stillness, reasonably control the measure of acceptance and rejection, regulate emotions of love and hatred, and balance the temper of joy and anger. So long as movement and stillness are properly aligned, misfortune finds no opening to intrude.

This passage elucidates principles for self-cultivation and worldly conduct, emphasizing alignment with the natural Dao and maintaining inner tranquility.

People often fear misfortune befalling them, but understanding acceptance and adaptation prevents entanglement with wrongdoing. Just as appointing the right person prevents being implicated by their faults. When love and hatred are properly managed, sorrow cannot approach; when joy and anger are controlled, resentment finds no entry. With clear rewards and punishments, none will voice complaints.

Though good and evil manifest differently, both originate from the human heart. Under heaven, the easiest act is kindness, the hardest is wickedness. Fortune and misfortune resemble steps—events often defy expectation: the more one seeks gain, the more one loses; the more one avoids, the more one encounters. Thus sages assess circumstances and regulate emotions, ensuring smooth endeavors free from sorrow or resentment.

Those who truly attain the Dao neither covet undue gains nor reject deserved fortunes or misfortunes. They accept what comes without anticipation, their hearts perpetually full yet never complacent. Maintaining humility brings easier contentment. Understanding sufficiency, they find peace in their state: eating merely to satisfy hunger, clothing merely for warmth, content with basic sustenance. Those ignorant of this principle, obsessively pursuing status, find no joy even with imperial power nor satisfaction with worldly riches.

Sages maintain serene hearts, simple aspirations, and collected spirits—external things cannot confuse them. This stems from desireless peace and greedless simplicity.

Self-cultivation requires method; worldly conduct demands wisdom. Dao-attainers follow natural patterns, accepting destiny's arrangements. They eat for hunger, dress for warmth, neither coveting excess nor abandoning necessities. Facing misfortune without false hope, encountering fortune without forced pursuit. In prominence, no arrogance; in poverty, unchanged integrity. They joyfully embrace innate nature, eternally abiding with the Dao.

Laozi said: "Conquering others shows strength; conquering oneself reveals true power." The truly powerful necessarily harness others' strength, and those who employ people must win hearts—which requires self-perfection. Never has self-perfection lost hearts, nor self-loss gained them. Thus governance's root lies in settling the people; settling the people's root lies in securing livelihoods; securing livelihoods' root lies in timely agriculture (here referencing other Wenzi chapters).

This scripture primarily discusses how the fundamental principle of governance lies in aligning with natural laws, restraining desires, and cultivating oneself. Its core perspectives can be summarized as follows:

Regarding agricultural seasons (the three critical periods of spring plowing, summer weeding, and autumn harvest), the essence of following farming timeliness lies in reducing forced labor. The foundation for reducing labor lies in practicing frugality, and the root of frugality resides in eliminating arrogance and extravagance. Ancient commentaries explain that the key is maintaining moderation.

The fundamental way to eliminate extravagance is achieving the state of "emptiness-nothingness" (referring to a mind clear as empty space and governing through non-action). The commentary clarifies that this requires rulers to first cultivate themselves, governing the people through the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), which embodies not only the principle of frugality but also genuine care for the populace.

Those who truly understand the essence of life do not forcibly pursue what life cannot attain; those who comprehend the truth of destiny do not worry about what fate cannot change. The commentary states that the wise, understanding this principle, remain free from anxiety, thereby fully grasping the truth of preserving life and aligning with heavenly mandate.

If eyes become obsessed with the Five Colors, mouths crave exquisite flavors, and ears indulge in music, the Seven Apertures (referring to sensory organs like eyes and ears) will compete with each other and harm one's inherent nature. Being daily led astray by corrupt desires that deplete one's Qi—if one cannot even govern oneself, how could they possibly govern the world? The commentary notes that none can attend to external matters while neglecting themselves, let alone rule the world.

To surpass others, one must first conquer oneself. There are none who cannot conquer themselves yet prevail over others. Overcoming others merely demonstrates physical strength—it means using desires to suppress heavenly principle; conquering oneself constitutes true power—it means using heavenly principle to restrain desires. When heavenly principle prevails, it wins people's hearts, and they naturally contribute their strength; when desires prevail, one must coerce others, causing them to become alienated and disloyal. The distinction between heavenly principle and human desire is indeed evident.

What is called "attaining the world" does not refer to ascending to high positions or possessing honorific titles, but rather to the ability to unite the hearts of the people and gain the strength of the world. The commentary explains that only then can one illuminate all directions, with no commoner willing to oppose. If one holds the title of emperor yet fails to earn a single person's praise, this constitutes losing the world. Thus, tyrants like Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang cannot be considered true rulers (commentary: because they lost the people's hearts), while Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou cannot be deemed usurpers (commentary: they did not actively overthrow previous dynasties but acted in accordance with popular sentiment).

When the Son of Heaven upholds the Dao, even the barbarians of the four frontiers guard his borders; when the Son of Heaven deviates from the Dao, only his feudal lords remain to protect him. The commentary states that when one possesses the Dao, even foreign tribes submit, but when one loses the Dao, one can only rely on subordinates. When feudal lords uphold the Dao, the armies of the four quarters guard their borders; when feudal lords deviate from the Dao, only their close confidants remain to protect them. The commentary explains that without using the Dao to maintain the royal house and benevolence to care for the people, even the closest kin may become enemies.

Therefore it is said: Do not expect others not to seize from you, but rely instead on your own unassailable strength.

The ancient commentary notes that virtue (De) without foundation cannot be relied upon, yet those who truly follow the Dao (the Way) cannot have their essential heart-mind seized by external forces. Those who promote principles that can be altered by external influences yet fail to walk the proper path are fundamentally useless for governing the world.

The commentary further explains: When occupying a precarious position where usurpation is possible, even if regicide has not yet occurred, such a regime cannot endure. As the sages said: "He who treats the people well is their ruler; he who oppresses them is their enemy." The sage rulers gained the support of all under heaven by aligning with the people's will, thereby achieving great order. Tyrants like Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang, though bearing the title of ruler, commanded no allegiance—precisely why Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou refused to submit to them. When the Son of Heaven loses the Dao, the feudal lords will replace him. Whose fault is this really?

Laozi states: "Those skilled in governing do not arbitrarily alter established systems and norms." The commentary explains this as governing in accordance with natural law. Anger violates virtue (De), weapons are instruments of calamity, and contention breeds chaos. To govern already chaotic situations by scheming against virtue and reveling in deadly weapons is the ultimate perversion. The commentary identifies this as violating the fundamental principles of governance.

Rather than creating disasters, it is better to sheathe one's edge and resolve disputes—to be soft as light, ordinary as dust. The commentary interprets this as eliminating violent weapons, unraveling knotted thoughts, harmonizing with all beings, and blending with the mundane to achieve transformation.

Human nature desires personal excellence while envying those who surpass us. The commentary identifies this as a universal tendency. Such attitudes provoke contention, and envy breeds resentment. Resentful struggles lead to mental confusion and disordered Qi (vital energy). The commentary clarifies that Qi should ideally flow peacefully and smoothly.

Thus, the sage kings of antiquity removed the roots of resentment. The commentary explains this as the principle of "not exalting the worthy"—thereby achieving mental tranquility and smooth Qi flow. Hence the saying: "Not prizing the worthy keeps the people from contention."

Additional explanation: Rather than fighting over insufficiency, yielding from abundance benefits both self and others. Anger violates virtue, weapons bring peril, contention creates chaos—to govern disorder by defying virtue and embracing weapons is the gravest inversion. Master Wenzi used this reasoning to advise Fan Li. When Yue sought to attack Wu, Fan Li cited these words in warning, but Goujian refused to listen, leading to defeat at Fujiao. Thus, those who wish harm upon others often bring ruin upon themselves—how could true worthiness ever act thus?

Laozi states: "Governing the myriad things is not achieved through forceful intervention, but through harmonious methods."

This passage expounds the Daoist core philosophy concerning governance, desires, and innate nature. In modern terms:

Harmonious governance cannot be achieved through harmony alone, but must be realized through people. When each individual occupies their proper place, harmony naturally emerges. Governing the populace shouldn't rely on personal will, but rather on the guidance of rulers (leaders). If the ruler maintains personal integrity, subordinates will naturally fulfill their respective roles.

Yet governing rulers cannot depend on the rulers themselves—it requires controlling desires. Those without selfish desires naturally act with rectitude, and when such individuals govern the world, the world returns to the proper path. Restraining desires shouldn't come through suppressing desires themselves, but through returning to human nature (the pristine natural state of primordial innocence). Attempting to eliminate desires through desires is as futile as trying to stop affairs with more affairs.

Cultivating one's nature cannot rely solely on nature itself, but must depend on De (Virtue/Power, the manifestation of Dao). When De is complete, one's nature naturally becomes whole. Nurturing De also shouldn't be limited to De itself—it must ultimately return to the Dao (the cosmic origin). Upon reaching the highest state, De will manifest spontaneously.

Human nature is originally pure and untainted, but obsession with external things leads to losing one's fundamental essence. Mistaking acquired desires for innate nature is erroneous—things like food, clothing, shelter, rituals, and customs aren't inherent to human nature but are later developments. Only those who attain Dao can transcend external things and return to their original nature.

By observing oneself through Dao, one comprehends the essence of all things; losing this standard leads to being deluded by external phenomena. Indulging desires causes the loss of innate nature—such a state harms personal health when governing oneself and brings chaos when governing a nation. Those who don't understand Dao cannot return to their original nature, hence the saying "returning to simplicity and authenticity" is the function of Dao.

The ancient sages first perfected themselves, thus achieving flawless command and prohibition. In all endeavors, one must first calm the mind and stabilize the Qi (vital energy)—only with clear spirit can one correctly perceive things. Only with inner purity can one discern matters clearly; only with peaceful mentality can one handle affairs properly, thereby achieving good results without overlooking essentials.

(Note: In this text, "Dao" refers to the fundamental law of the universe, "De" is the manifestation of Dao in concrete things, and "nature" denotes humanity's inborn, spontaneous essence.)

This scripture primarily expounds on the path of self-cultivation and state governance, with its core principle being "guarding the One" (shouyi) - maintaining inner purity and unity. When people become confused by external judgments of right and wrong or dazzled by superficial appearances, they lose the capacity for proper conduct. Just as water becomes turbulent when disturbed, and the mind grows muddled when agitated, such states make accurate discernment impossible.

The ancient sage-kings governed all things by adhering to this principle of "guarding the One." This "One" is most precious precisely because it inclines toward no particular bias. The sage-kings, being free from selfish preferences, could thus become models for the world. When rulers attain this state of clarity within themselves, their decrees naturally circulate throughout the realm.

The text employs natural phenomena as metaphors: the Yin and Yang energies give birth to all things, while disharmony between ruler and minister resembles abnormal weather patterns (killing frost in spring, blossoms in autumn, winter thunderstorms, summer frost). These all stem from "thief qi" (zeiqi) - disruptive energies that undermine natural order. Heaven and earth form one great body, within which all things resonate. Those who understand their true nature remain unthreatened by heaven and earth; those who comprehend the correspondences between heaven and humanity cannot be misled by strange phenomena.

The wisdom of sages lies in their ability to deduce great matters from small observations nearby, and to unify myriad diverse phenomena under singular principles. The harmonious qi of centrality and balance (zhonghe zhi qi) fills the space between heaven and earth, connecting all dimensions. This teaches us that governing the world must begin with self-cultivation - only by maintaining inner peace can one properly respond to all things.

The Wenzi Zuanyi passage discusses the fundamental principles of social governance. When a society abandons even basic rites, righteousness, integrity, and shame, people will harm one another, reverting to a primordial state of undifferentiated chaos.

The highest form of governance does not rely on external rules of propriety to constrain people, but rather transforms them naturally toward goodness. This resembles antiquity, when people lived in pristine simplicity without any need for deliberate moral exhortation.

As the world declines and material resources become scarce, people labor strenuously yet still go hungry, breeding resentment and contention. Only then does the need arise to promote "humaneness" (ren, universal love) to mediate conflicts. When factions form and people scheme against one another, "righteousness" (yi, justice) must be emphasized to establish norms. When men and women mingle without proper boundaries, "ritual propriety" (li) becomes necessary to create order. And when human nature becomes repressed and distorted, "music" (yue, musical education) is required to harmonize the heart-mind.

Thus humaneness, righteousness, ritual, and music are merely tools for rectifying an age of disorder—not the root of proper governance. Heaven and earth originally form one body, and the myriad things all arise from transformations of the single Qi (vital energy). The sage regards all people as one family, and peace prevails naturally. If people can return to their original pure nature—like heaven and earth embracing all things—resources will naturally suffice, and greed-driven conflicts will cease to arise.

In a truly well-governed age, there is no need to deliberately promote humaneness and righteousness, for virtue (De) manifests spontaneously, and people do not indulge in sensual pleasures. Only after virtue declines do we need humaneness and righteousness as embellishments; only after harmony is lost do we require music for adjustment. This resembles pursuing branches and leaves after losing the root—a fundamental deviation from the Dao (the Way).

This passage elucidates the core Daoist philosophy regarding social governance and personal cultivation. Ancient commentators observed that when people deliberately adjust musical tones to pursue harmony, it signifies the loss of true harmony. Just as excessive emphasis on rituals leads to superficial ornamentation (the term "礼淫" refers to ritualistic excess).

Those who truly comprehend the essence of Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue) understand that mere advocacy of benevolence and righteousness is insufficient; those who recognize the limitations of these virtues discover the inadequacies of ritual and music-based education. The sage returns to original simplicity, guiding people back to their innate goodness. When human hearts incline toward goodness, the Yin-Yang forces of heaven and earth naturally harmonize, resources become abundant, and greed-driven conflicts vanish. Without deliberate promotion of benevolence and righteousness, the Dao's virtue naturally stabilizes the world.

Laozi teaches that the art of governance through Wuwei (non-action) lies in maintaining harmonious adaptability—preserving inner simplicity and sincerity while remaining tranquil and free from agitation. Those without excessive desires can sustain the mysterious state where all virtues naturally manifest. When internally aligned with the Dao, external conduct spontaneously becomes appropriate. Their speech is concise yet coherent, their actions follow natural human tendencies. With hearts peaceful and free from pretense, they act with unadorned simplicity—neither contriving beginnings nor forcing outcomes, content to remain when settled and moved to act when inspired.

Such individuals become one with heaven and earth, sharing the same origin as Yin-Yang, harmonizing with the four seasons, luminous like the sun and moon, and transformative like the Dao's nurturing power. Without cunning or deceit in their hearts, heaven covers all things with virtue, earth supports beings with joy, the four seasons proceed orderly, wind and rain come in moderation, sun and moon shine with clarity, and the five planets (representing the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) move properly—all manifesting the evidence of serene non-action.

Heaven becomes lofty through clarity, earth endures through stillness. Sages emulate heaven and earth, governing through purity and tranquility. When the mind is clear, it unites with the Dao; when the body is calm, it harmonizes with others. Without stepping beyond their doors, their transformative influence spreads.

Laozi states that in times of great peace, official duties are easily maintained (because governance remains simple), administrative affairs are effortlessly handled (without disturbing the people), and rituals are naturally observed.

Ancient governance was simple and straightforward, making it easy to implement. Laws were lenient, so people found them easy to follow. In those times, each person specialized in one role: officials fulfilled their duties, while scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants (士农工商) all remained content in their respective stations. People of different professions lived in separate areas without interfering with one another.

Thus, farmers exchanged knowledge on cultivation, scholars discussed moral cultivation (德), artisans honed their skills, and merchants calculated profits and losses. Each profession could fully utilize its expertise: scholars maintained upright conduct, artisans worked with satisfaction, farmers enjoyed stable harvests, and merchants sold goods smoothly. Everyone lived and worked according to their nature. Though these four groups differed in status and occupation, as long as each fulfilled their responsibilities, chaos would not arise.

The ancients adhered to the principle of "one official, one duty," so in times of peace, officials' roles were clearly defined, and governance was effortless. Later, the emergence of shared responsibilities and overlapping duties led to bloated institutions, excessive bureaucracy, and conflicting decrees that harmed effective administration.

Truly visionary talents are rare, but a well-governed society does not demand such excellence from the common people. Those with vast knowledge and eloquence are learned, but wise rulers do not expect all subjects to meet such standards. Reclusive sages of lofty virtue are admirable, but rulers do not impose such ideals as models for the masses. Excessively high standards cannot measure ordinary people, and exceptional conduct should not be forced upon all. (Note: The true Dao (道) allows customs to remain naturally pure. Overemphasizing talent or material wealth only incites competition and theft.)

Therefore, in employing people, one should not demand perfection. The way of governance can be passed down through generations. (Note: The Dao adapts to circumstances without obstruction, and its methods remain constant yet flexible, making them timeless.) State laws can be followed by ordinary people, and military discipline can unify the many. There is no need to wait for heroes of antiquity to appear—by making the best use of available resources, everyone's potential can be realized. (Note: In peaceful times, both the wise and the ordinary find their proper place and contribute meaningfully.)

This scripture primarily discusses the governance failures of degenerate ages and the Daoist advocacy for natural simplicity.

Late age governance manifests three fundamental flaws: First, establishing impossibly high standards to punish those who fall short; second, assigning unbearably heavy burdens to penalize those who cannot complete them; third, setting unreasonably difficult requirements to chastise those who dare not attempt them. These practices all exceed reasonable limits. When tasks are light, people complete them; when requirements are simple, people attempt them. When oppressed by these three forms of harsh judgment, the populace resorts to cunning deception of superiors and desperate ventures into wrongdoing. Even the severest laws cannot prohibit such crafty behavior—just as cornered beasts will charge, trapped birds will peck, and desperate men will deceive.

Truly capable individuals never transgress De (Virtue), and eloquent speakers never exceed proper conduct. Wise rulers neither demand prescient foresight from subordinates nor employ smooth-talking sycophants. Those who arrogantly impose impossible tasks and force others beyond their capacities—how can they prevent the inevitable deception of desperate people?

Laozi said: Thunder's roar can be imitated with bells and drums; wind and rain's transformations can be understood through musical tones. All visible things can be measured, obvious matters discerned, audible sounds modulated, and perceptible colors differentiated. Yet the grandest realities exceed Heaven and Earth's capacity to contain them, while the subtlest mysteries elude even the Shen (spirit)'s comprehension (referring here to the primordial chaotic state of the Dao). When humans created musical scales and calendars, distinguished the Five Colors, differentiated pure from turbid, and tasted sweet from bitter, original simplicity fragmented into myriad particular things. Establishing benevolence and righteousness, practicing rituals and music—these transformed natural De (Virtue) into artificial hypocrisy.

People use cleverness to deceive others and craft schemes against superiors. While some may temporarily maintain such conditions, none can truly govern this way. The more wisdom accumulates, the more De (Virtue) deteriorates—hence the perfected person who attains the Dao preserves undivided primal simplicity.

The sage's method involves: analyzing the Dao's essence, emulating Heaven and Earth, and observing natural phenomena to create instruments. Just as bells and drums imitate thunder, or musical tones express wind and rain, all true understanding derives from nature's revelations.

The text describes how the "Perfected Person" (one who has attained the highest moral cultivation) governs the world by emulating the natural Dao. Just as bells, drums, wind, and rain follow the rhythms of musical harmony, the Perfected Person grasps the fundamental laws of heaven and earth.

When governing, the Perfected Person maintains a state of emptiness, stillness, and wuwei (non-action), free from selfish desires, with spirit and form in perfect harmony. In stillness, they embody De (Virtue); in action, they comprehend all principles, acting wholly in accordance with nature's patterns. Without deliberate benevolence, the people remain simple and genuine; without contention, resources naturally abound. Those who give claim no merit, while receivers feel no need for humility—De thus returns to its original source.

This state resembles the "Celestial Treasury" (tianfu)—a natural storehouse that never diminishes despite constant use—or the star Yaoguang (one of the Big Dipper's seven stars) that nourishes all things. The Perfected Person follows the principle of Polaris: remaining unmoving at the center while all other stars revolve around it. With their mind connected to the divine, they govern through wuwei, bringing harmony to the world. Just as the Big Dipper follows celestial motion to sustain life, Emperor Shun adjusted governance by observing the jade astronomical instruments (xuanji yuheng)—demonstrating true understanding of heavenly Dao.

Laozi states: Heaven treasures its Qi (vital energy, seen in sun, moon, and stars); earth maintains its equilibrium (through the Five Phases: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); humans nurture their innate nature (thoughts and emotions). Therefore, one must "close the four gates" (eyes, ears, nose, and mouth) and restrain the "five excesses" (indulgences), allowing the Shen (spirit) to return to its authentic state. True wisdom lies in preserving internal Jing (essence) and Qi, letting the divine dwell within formlessness.

(Note: The "five excesses" (wudun) are: 1) Metal excess—obsession with objects; 2) Wood excess—infatuation with palaces; 3) Water excess—indulgence in boats; 4) Fire excess—pursuit of delicacies; 5) Earth excess—craving gardens. Practitioners must avoid these sensory indulgences.)

This passage explains the Daoist cultivation method of "closing the four gates." The four gates refer to the sensory portals of ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. The five dispersions (wudun) denote the five emotions: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, and desire. By closing these sensory channels and controlling emotions, one can connect with the great Dao (the Way) and preserve the essential spirit (Shen) and vital energy (Qi).

Specifically, it means having bright eyes that don't wander aimlessly, sharp ears that don't listen indiscriminately, a mouth that speaks without idle words, and a mind that comprehends without chaotic thoughts. Maintaining this state allows one to return to the authentic state of life, where external disturbances cannot harm you. Thus, externally one won't be burdened by worldly affairs, and internally there will be no torment of emotional extremes.

When essence (Jing) and energy (Qi) reside in the eyes, one sees clearly; when they dwell in the ears, one hears distinctly; when they settle in the mouth, one speaks appropriately; and when they gather in the heart, one thinks coherently. Therefore, closing the four gates ensures a lifetime free from worry. Though the limbs and nine orifices may seem inactive, vitality remains ever-present—this is the realm of a perfected person (zhenren). A true person embodies pure essence and energy, suffused with pristine Qi throughout the body.

The text also mentions that the foundation of the earth lies in the Five Phases (wuxing)—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. Sages who understand how to harmonize these phases never neglect governance. Human nature corresponds to the five stars in heaven and the Five Phases on earth. When the five aspects of human nature are stirred, they give rise to the seven emotions. It’s essential to recognize that the spirit (Shen) resides in the heart, essence (Jing) in the kidneys, the ethereal soul (hun) in the liver, the corporeal soul (po) in the lungs, and intention in the spleen. These divine aspects dwell in the formless, neither born nor perishing—this is the state of a true person.

Laozi said: A scale must remain impartial to measure weight accurately; an inked string must be consistent to draw straight lines. Only when a ruler enforces laws without personal bias can they command the world. The Dao and its Virtue (De) need no deliberate display, and resentment finds no place to hide—this is the true way of aligning with the Dao and harmonizing with human nature. Thus, those who truly understand governance don’t rely on petty cleverness. Just as water can capsize a boat and wood can break an axle, people don’t blame the wood or stones but fault their own lack of skill. For things without intent provoke no resentment, while those who depend on cunning ultimately meet with misfortune.

This scripture expounds the Daoist governing principle of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." The text states that when rulers harbor selfish desires, they disrupt the operation of the Dao (the Way); conversely, maintaining selflessness and desirelessness allows laws to function naturally. Like standard measuring tools such as scales and compasses, once established they remain unchanged for eternity precisely because they conform to the principle of Wuwei.

The author illustrates this truth through several metaphors: selfish human intentions harm the Dao just as fixed staring causes dizziness; nations may have rulers who bring about their downfall, but the Dao itself never perishes. Truly enlightened rulers need not handle every affair personally—they understand how to rely on the patterns of all things and the wisdom of the multitude.

The text particularly emphasizes that Wuwei is the fundamental tenet of the Dao. A ruler who embodies Wuwei can align with natural laws, free from rigid personal views, and thus adapt to endless changes. Like craftsmen each fulfilling their roles without interfering with one another, allowing everyone to develop their strengths and all things to serve their proper functions, even a community of millions will not waste its potential.

Ancient commentaries explain that the ruler's ability to understand the world without stepping beyond his gate lies in mastering the method of "knowing things through things, understanding people through people." By adhering to this principle of Wuwei, gathering collective strength makes no task insurmountable, and pooling collective wisdom ensures no achievement is beyond reach. Conversely, violating this principle and relying solely on individual intellect quickly leads to peril.

The Wenzi Zuanyi passage expounds the wisdom of governing a state and cultivating one's person. Its core message is: Tools dedicated to a single purpose don't break easily, and responsibilities that are simple and clear don't lead to negligence. Just as small debts are easily repaid, few tasks are easily completed, and light burdens are easily sustained. When rulers grasp the Dao (the Way) of simplicity and ministers carry out easily achievable duties, the relationship between sovereign and subject can remain harmonious and enduring.

The movements of heaven and earth follow their inherent patterns. States may perish, but the Dao endures forever. Take Yi Yin (founding minister of the Shang dynasty) as an example: he sought employment under the tyrant Jie of Xia five times but was never employed, because Jie trusted only himself and failed to draw upon the wisdom of others. Ultimately, Yi Yin assisted Tang of Shang to achieve greatness. This illustrates the importance of aligning with the Dao of heaven.

Emperors should contemplate the "Taiyi" (Supreme Unity, the cosmic source of truth), kings should emulate the transformations of Yin-Yang, hegemons follow the laws of seasonal change, and ordinary rulers employ the six musical pitches to harmonize all things. Those who truly understand the Dao of Taiyi can comprehend the essential patterns of heaven, earth, and the myriad things. Their wisdom is as clear as the sun and moon, and their spirit (Shen) communicates with all beings. Their actions accord with the balance of Yin-Yang, their emotions align with the shifts of the seasons, and like heaven's canopy and earth's support, they are naturally selfless—even the smallest creatures can sense their beneficence.

Those who model themselves on Yin-Yang can harmonize with heaven and earth, their virtue (De) standing alongside them, their radiance matching the sun and moon, their spirit communing with ghosts and deities. This essentially describes achieving the state of "unity of heaven and humanity" by following natural laws. Whether in governing a state or cultivating one's person, the principle of "simplicity leads to longevity" applies—the purer and simpler the matter, the more enduring it becomes; the more one aligns with the Dao of heaven, the higher the state one attains.

With head reaching the heavens and feet planted firmly on earth, embracing the sundial (an ancient timekeeping instrument) and reclining upon the carpenter's chalk line—these actions symbolize emulating the principles of heaven and earth. Ancient commentators explain that these are all ways of following natural laws.

Internally, one cultivates the self; externally, one wins the hearts of others. Decrees issued can make the people of the world bend like grass before the wind. The ancients explain that such influence is like the natural bending of grass when the wind blows.

The cyclical patterns of the four seasons are: birth in spring, growth in summer, harvest in autumn, and storage in winter. Taking and giving must be measured; expenditure and income must be balanced. Whether in joy or anger, strength or gentleness, none should violate natural law—soft yet not fragile, strong yet not harsh, tolerant yet not indulgent, stern yet not unreasonable. With a gentle and inclusive attitude, one nurtures all things; virtue embraces the dull-witted and accepts those of improper conduct, showing no partiality.

The ancients conclude: only with all these virtues can one achieve hegemony. From this, we see that the way of ruling as a sovereign—who but a sage could attain such a state?

Applying the six pitch standards (ancient musical tuning, here metaphorically representing governing principles) relates to life and death, reward and punishment, giving and taking—without these, there is no way to govern. The ancients explain: true governance lies in aligning administrative affairs with the changes of the seasons and ensuring rewards and punishments accord with the nature of things.

Suppressing rebellion, prohibiting violence, promoting the worthy, dismissing the incompetent, correcting deviance to return to the right path, eliminating danger to restore peace, straightening the crooked to restore uprightness—one must understand the principles of giving and restraint, opening and closing, seizing the moment and adapting to circumstances to win hearts. The ancients add: without fairness, one cannot command all things; without timeliness, one cannot direct the people.

Those who call themselves "Emperor" but imitate Yin-Yang (referring to forced manipulation of natural forces) will suffer erosion. The ancients explain: this deviates from the Wuwei (non-action) virtue of the "Supreme Unity" (the cosmic origin).

Those who call themselves "King" but imitate the four seasons will weaken. The ancients explain: this damages the governing principle of fair rewards and punishments.

Those who call themselves "Hegemon" but apply the six pitch standards will face disgrace; rulers who lose their principles will be deposed. Using grand principles for minor affairs leads to entanglement, obstruction, and loss of intimacy. The ancients explain: governing through clever stratagems ultimately cannot be comprehensive. Using minor principles for grand affairs leads to narrow constraints. The ancients explain: in this way, moral transformation finds no place to manifest.

Why not use the title "August Sovereign" (Huang) but instead "Emperor, King, Hegemon, Ruler"? It is to revere the realm of the "August Sovereign." Those called "Emperor" lose the Dao and then speak of De (virtue); those called "King" lose De and then speak of benevolence; those called "Hegemon" lose benevolence and then speak of righteousness; those called "Ruler" lose righteousness and then speak of ritual. Establish the great principles, and the small will naturally be included; establish only the small, and the great will be lost.

Laozi said: a vast territory and numerous people do not suffice to be called strong. The ancients explain: without Dao and righteousness, the people all become enemies. Sturdy armor and sharp weapons do not suffice to rely on for victory. The ancients explain: relying on victory leads to arrogance, and arrogance leads to defeat.

High walls and deep moats cannot ensure a nation's stability. Ancient commentaries explain that true security lies in benevolent virtue (De) rather than strategic terrain.

Harsh punishments and executions cannot establish genuine authority. The ancients clarify that widespread beneficence builds true prestige, while excessive legal severity breeds resistance. States governed with benevolent policies endure even when small; those ruled by tyranny perish despite their size. Thus those skilled at safeguarding nations need no passive defenses—the commentaries attribute this to mastering the unshakable Dao of governance. Skilled warriors need not rely on brute force—the ancients explain this as understanding how to harness an enemy's emotional agitation.

By aligning with the times and meeting the people's needs, one can win the world's allegiance—as exemplified by rulers like King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou. True masters of statecraft accumulate virtue (De), while skilled commanders cultivate vital energy (Qi). Profound virtue mobilizes the populace; soaring energy establishes authority. The deeper a policy's influence, the more stable its power; the broader its beneficence, the mightier its prestige. Ancient commentaries note that when ritual and music (Keyi) transform the people, weapons naturally become obsolete.

Greater strategic advantage strengthens us while weakening foes. Skilled commanders always first weaken opponents before engaging—the ancients attribute this to aligning with the people's will. Thus with less than half the effort comes tenfold results: a small state practicing virtuous governance may achieve kingship, while a mighty empire addicted to warfare will perish. The army of a true sovereign only engages when victory is certain—commentaries explain this as maintaining absolute certainty of triumph, often achieving victory without battle. Defeated armies always fight first and seek victory later—the ancients note this stems from failing to recognize their inevitable defeat.

All these stem from misunderstanding the great Dao (Dao). The essential principle remains: states cultivating virtue (De) endure regardless of size; those obsessed with militarism perish despite their power. Skilled governors accumulate virtue (De); skilled commanders store strength. Only by understanding that military affairs fundamentally aim to stop chaos—not create it—can the people remain unharmed and the nation enjoy lasting peace.