《沖虛至德真經四解》Vol. 12

This scripture records a philosophical dialogue between the Shang dynasty ruler Tang and the sage Xia Ge (pronounced "Ji" in Zhuangzi's annotation) concerning the origin of the cosmos, revealing Daoist profound reflections on the nature of time and space.

Tang first inquired: "Did concrete entities exist in the primordial antiquity?" Xia Ge replied: "Originally there were no concrete things. If there had been things from the beginning, how could all phenomena have subsequently emerged?" He explained that our ability to perceive myriad things today precisely proves the existence of an evolutionary foundation in ancient times. If future generations were to consider our era as containing nothing, this would clearly be unreasonable—for they too would regard our time as their "antiquity," demonstrating time's fundamentally cyclical nature.

Fan Zhixu (a high official during Emperor Huizong's Zhenghe reign of the Song dynasty) supplemented this interpretation: The Yi Jing's (Book of Changes) teaching that Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) generates the two modes (Yin-Yang) illustrates how the principles governing heaven and earth remain constant across past and present.

Tang pressed further: "Then do all things follow a sequence of precedence?" Xia Ge pointed out: The beginnings and endings of phenomena inherently lack boundaries. What we call an "ending" may mark the commencement of another phenomenon, while a "beginning" might constitute the termination of something else. Origins and conclusions interconnect like an unbroken circle, making any definitive demarcation impossible.

This dialogue unveils several core Daoist insights: First, the cosmic origin transcends concrete form as "non-being" (wu); second, time possesses cyclical, recurring characteristics; third, all phenomena exist in perpetual mutual transformation, with all distinctions being relative. The text critiques the common tendency to project limited understanding onto the infinite cosmos, emphasizing that only sagely wisdom can comprehend this truth beyond superficial appearances.

This passage discusses the state of existence prior to the material world and concrete phenomena—a realm even sages find difficult to fully comprehend.

It first points out that beyond the material world and before events occur, there exists a state of absolute emptiness and stillness that defies verbal description. Just as ancient affairs seem distant to us now, future generations will likewise view our present as ancient. The ceaseless flow of time and perpetual transformation of all things render concepts of "ancient" and "modern" entirely relative. Though King Tang of Shang considered antiquity extremely remote, the true origins and sequence of phenomena remain ultimately unknowable.

The cosmos operates without beginning or end, making it impossible to determine what truly comes "before" or "after." Within the material world, time may appear to have sequence and calculable progression, but attempting to investigate pre-material existence with finite intelligence results only in futile confusion.

The text cites Confucius' response to Ran Qiu's question about the state before heaven and earth's formation: "Antiquity is just like the present," revealing the unchanging nature of temporal flow. All things differentiate from the Primordial Chaos (Qi Mother), filling the space between heaven and earth—where there are beginnings, there must inevitably be endings, in endless cyclical motion. None but those with true wisdom comprehending cosmic principles could possibly know the genuine starting and ending points.

Through the dialogue between King Tang and Xia Ge, the text further illustrates this principle: when asked whether the eight directions and six dimensions have limits, Xia Ge replied "I don't know"—not from ignorance, but because the question transcends human understanding. Beyond the "boundless" lies deeper boundlessness; within the "endless" resides more profound endlessness. Such ultimate truths cannot be grasped through ordinary thinking.

This passage reveals Daoist cosmological reflection: the true Dao is absolute existence beyond time, space, and dichotomies of being/non-being, before which human cognitive capacities appear profoundly limited.

This scripture explores the dialectical relationship between "non-being" (无) and "being" (有). It begins by posing profound questions: If we speak of "non-being," how can it have boundaries? If we speak of "exhaustion," how can there still be a middle? True "non-being" transcends extremes as the "Ultimateless" (无极), while true "exhaustion" surpasses limits as the "Boundless" (无尽).

The text then progresses through layered reasoning: Beyond the Ultimateless there can be no further Ultimateless; within the Boundless there exists no additional Boundless. Some might mistakenly believe the Ultimateless extends infinitely outward or the Boundless contains endless layers within, but such understanding is explicitly refuted. Only through this realization can one truly comprehend the essence of "Ultimateless" and "Boundless."

From the perspective of "being," within defined parameters (such as political territories), the eight directions and vertical dimensions manifest concretely; beyond these confines, spatial orientations dissolve into "non-being." Observing concrete phenomena through "being" reveals limits, while contemplating the mysterious through "non-being" discloses limitlessness. This recalls the legendary dialogue between King Tang of Shang and the sage Ge, where Ge consistently responded to profound questions with "I do not know."

The commentator Fan elaborates: The scale of all things is inherently limitless—attempting to measure vast cosmic realms with minute standards only breeds confusion. How can spatial concepts like the eight directions ever be fully comprehended? "Non-being" constitutes the Ultimateless; what transcends spatial dimensions no longer qualifies as "non-being." "Being" represents the finite; what falls within spatial parameters belongs to "being." From human perspective, we can only recognize the Ultimateless, but what Ultimateless exists beyond the Ultimateless? We can only perceive the Boundless, but what Boundless resides within the Boundless?

When King Tang further inquired, "What lies beyond the Four Seas?" Ge responded: "The same as the Central Plains." This illustrates the Dao's universality—"non-being" permeates all existence, its essence and function too vast for simplistic distinctions between void and form, presence and absence.

Pressed for verification, Ge explained: "Journeying east to Ying, I found people identical to here; inquiring beyond Ying revealed the same. Traveling west to Bin showed no difference. Thus I know the Four Seas, Four Wastes, and Four Extremes share fundamental unity." This demonstrates spatial infinity and the essential sameness of all phenomena.

This scripture primarily discusses the all-encompassing and boundless nature of heaven and earth. It begins by pointing out that conceptual distinctions like the Four Seas (East, West, South, North), the Four Wildernesses (distant borderlands), and the Four Extremities (cosmic limits) are ultimately illusory. As the ancient classic Erya states, no matter how remote a region may be, universal human experiences—birth and death, love and hatred, familial bonds—exist there just the same.

Heaven and earth function as a vast vessel governed by the fundamental principle of Dao (the Way). The four directions have no true boundaries; distance creates no essential difference. While China occupies the central position with foreign peoples surrounding it, these peripheral regions—despite variations in customs and products—share the same intrinsic nature. Travel east to Yingzhou (modern Liaoning), and you'll find people no different from us; continue eastward and this remains true. Journey west to Bin (modern Shaanxi), and the same principle applies. This demonstrates how all things within the cosmic framework are fundamentally interconnected.

The scripture further elucidates: All things mutually contain one another without exhaustion. Heaven and earth embrace the myriad beings, yet the Supreme Void (Taixu, the cosmic origin) embraces even heaven and earth. Through the creative dynamism of Qian and Kun (heaven and earth), the interplay of Yin-Yang energies gives birth to all life forms in endless cycles of renewal. Though vast enough to hold sun, moon, stars, and the Four Seas, the material cosmos has inherent limits. The formless Supreme Void, by contrast, embodies infinite capacity. Within it, heaven and earth simultaneously exist and seem not to exist. Every phenomenon in the manifest world exists in nested relationships—greater containing lesser, abundance generating scarcity. When traced to the ultimate state of "Non-being" (Wu), we discover heaven, earth, and all things endlessly enfolded within one another like concentric cities, their boundaries perpetually unfathomable.

This passage explores the boundlessness of the cosmos and the limitations of human perception. The essential meaning is:

The cosmos (Taixu, the Great Void) is infinite and inexhaustible, while the heaven and earth we perceive are finite. When the infinite encompasses the finite, heaven and earth may not be the ultimate existence. The theories of Zou Yan (Zouzi) from the Warring States period merely represent the scope of his personal understanding.

Ordinary people often only trust what their senses perceive (superficial knowledge) or rigidly adhere to common beliefs (conventional views). But truly enlightened individuals can transcend the limitations of the mind, comprehending profound truths beyond sensory perception and seeing realities outside the material world. Those who confine their thinking to the visible realm, operating only within the "six directions" (up, down, and the four cardinal directions), believe ancient classics like the "Three Mounds and Five Canons" contain all truth, and that the "four seas and nine continents" constitute the entire world. How could they understand the vast expanse of the Great Void or the infinite possibilities of all things, great and small?

Heaven and earth are like a grand house, while all things are merely floating dust within it. People remain bound by their narrow perspectives, muddling through life in confusion. Therefore, Liezi (a Daoist master) proposed the principle of "no within" (infinite smallness) to break mental barriers, and the grand theory of "no beyond" (infinite vastness) to expand perceptual limitations. In this way, seekers of the great Dao (the Way) naturally relinquish arrogance, while those constrained by dogma unconsciously free themselves.

The author critiques Confucians and Mohists (Ru-Mo) for rigidly adhering to doctrines, pointing out their confinement within narrow boundaries. This critique isn't meant for novelty but stems from sorrow—Laozi (Dan) and Zhuangzi (Zhou) already faced worldly ridicule, so how could you (the interlocutor) avoid it now?

Commentator Lu Chongxuan explains: The wondrous Dao (the Way) encompasses all things and is therefore inexhaustible; Yin-Yang contains heaven and earth and is therefore limitless. Regarding what lies beyond heaven, earth, and all things, we admit our ignorance, but this doesn't equate to complete unknowing.

The Zhenghe-era commentary states: The nameless Dao is the origin of heaven and earth, while the named Dao is the mother of all things. As the mother of all things, heaven and earth contain them without end; as the origin of heaven and earth, the Dao contains them without limit. Heaven and earth are but minuscule existences within the void, while the Dao embraces all—demonstrating that beyond heaven and earth there must exist something greater.

Commentator Fan Yingyuan concludes: Small things each have their differences, yet the great Dao covers all and unifies them.

Heaven and Earth can cover and bear all things, while the Great Void (the cosmic origin) encompasses the entire Six Directions (the universe). Great and small things contain one another—who can fully explain this principle? Because the Great Void embraces all things, it is inexhaustible; because all things fill Heaven and Earth, they too have no boundaries. Seen this way, though Heaven and Earth are vast, they are but a tiny presence within emptiness, merely the largest among all tangible things. Who can say whether in the realm of the formless there might exist something even greater than Heaven and Earth? These truths can only be grasped with the heart, for words cannot fully convey them.

Thus, Heaven and Earth are also merely "things," and all things have their imperfections. In ancient times, the goddess Nüwa smelted five-colored stones to repair the flaws of Heaven and Earth. Here, "flaws" do not refer to physical gaps but to imbalances in Yin-Yang and irregularities in the movements of the sun, moon, and stars. As a divine being, Nüwa was able to harmonize the essences of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and realign the order of Yin-Yang, without needing to patch things materially.

Scholar Lu considered Zhang Zhan's commentary apt. Legend also says Nüwa severed the legs of a giant turtle (Ao) to prop up the four poles of Heaven and Earth. Later, Gonggong (a tribal leader of antiquity) contended with Zhuanxu (grandson of the Yellow Emperor) for the throne and, in his rage, toppled Mount Buzhou in the northwest. Gonggong rose to power between the eras of Fuxi and Shennong, and his descendants, relying on their strength, fought Zhuanxu for supremacy.

This collision caused the celestial pillars to break and the earthly tethers to snap, tilting Heaven toward the northwest—where the sun, moon, and stars now drift—while the earth sank in the southeast, drawing all rivers to converge there. Scholar Lu noted that defying natural order and corrupting virtue is like breaking the celestial pillars and tearing the earthly tethers. Thus, sages understand the patterns of the Dao of Heaven, reducing excess to supplement deficiency, ensuring the sun, moon, stars, rivers, and lakes each find their proper place.

Commentaries from the Zhenghe era (Song Dynasty) explain that Nüwa’s smelting of stones to mend Heaven and severing the turtle’s legs to support the four poles demonstrate the sage’s wisdom in regulating nature and assisting creation. The gathering of celestial bodies in the northwest and the flow of rivers to the southeast reflect natural tendencies.

Scholar Fan, citing the Yijing, pointed out that Qian (Heaven) represents Yang and Kun (Earth) represents Yin, showing that Heaven and Earth remain within the category of "things." Thus, the ancients smelted stones to repair Heaven, severed turtle legs to prop it up, or broke celestial pillars and snapped earthly tethers. Though vast, Heaven and Earth can still be altered.

This passage describes the natural laws governing heaven and earth, along with the mythical imagery of the Guixu (the bottomless abyss in the depths of the sea, also known as the Tailgate).

The movement of heaven and earth follows its own principles: the sun, moon, and stars rotate to the left because the heavens in the northwest are incomplete. All rivers flow eastward because the terrain in the southeast is low-lying. According to the Yellow Emperor's scriptures, the heavens in the northwest are incomplete, which is why the northern regions are heavy with Yin Qi (vital energy), causing people's right ears and eyes to be less acute than their left. Conversely, the southeast's low-lying terrain results in an abundance of Yang Qi, making people's left hands and feet weaker than their right. By observing the human body, one can grasp the greater principles of heaven and earth.

Next, the text describes a bottomless abyss called Guixu (or Tailgate), located billions of miles east of the Bohai Sea. This abyss is the final destination for the waters of the eight directions and the celestial river (Milky Way). All waters flow into it, yet it neither increases nor decreases. This bottomless abyss symbolizes the infinite and inexhaustible Dao, capable of containing the smallest things while encompassing all things in existence.

Within Guixu stand five sacred mountains: Daiyu, Yuanjiao, Fanghu, Yingzhou, and Penglai. These mountains rise thirty thousand li high, with flat summits stretching nine thousand li wide. The distance between each mountain is seventy thousand li. The structures on these mountains are built from gold and jade, and the animals there are pure white without any blemish. The trees are adorned with pearls and gemstones, bearing fruits that grant immortality when eaten. The inhabitants are all immortals and sages, who can fly between the five mountains countless times in a single day (a total distance of two hundred eighty thousand li), moving faster than wind or clouds.

Note: Guixu, in Daoist mythology, represents the ultimate convergence point of all waters, symbolizing the all-encompassing nature of the Dao. The five sacred mountains embody the early belief in immortal realms, representing the paradises of eternal life.

This scripture employs mythological allegory to illustrate the importance of Dao practitioners mastering sensory desires. The text explains that all tangible phenomena originate from the Dao (the Way), yet people indulge in material pleasures ("ornamental delights") while remaining oblivious to life's brevity ("ignorant of aging, unaware of death")—like the five mythical floating mountains adrift without anchor in the sea. The five human senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body, collectively termed the "Five Roots") mirror these five mountains, constantly agitated by external stimuli of form, sound, scent, taste, and touch, even forgetting life's fundamental essence in pursuit of fame and profit.

Yuqiang, the deity of the North Pole (legendary ruler of the Northern Sea), dispatches fifteen giant turtles to take turns supporting the sacred mountains (rotating every sixty thousand years), symbolizing how cultivators must restrain the Five Roots. Yet the giants of Longbo Country (representing unrestrained desire) hook away six turtles at once, causing two immortal mountains to sink—a metaphor showing how indulging the senses leads to losing one's spiritual homeland. The passage concludes with the divination practice using turtle shells, suggesting practitioners should stabilize their Shen (spirit) by curbing desires ("governing the Five Roots"), much like the giant turtles steady the mountains, granting the spirit its rightful abode. Here, the "Five Dusts" denote temptations of sight, sound, scent, taste, and touch, while the "Five Consciousnesses" are the discriminating minds born of sensory perception, emphasizing their mastery through heart-mind cultivation ("discerning through the heart-mind").

This passage depicts the grand cosmic vision and profound philosophy within the Daoist worldview.

In the vast expanse between heaven and earth, even the Kunpeng (a legendary giant bird with wings spanning millions of miles) appears as insignificant as a mosquito when compared to the entire universe. This illustrates how the Taixu (the Daoist term for cosmic origin) possesses boundless capacity, embracing all things without exception.

The text employs the "Longbo" (legendary land of giants) as a metaphor for ordinary people drowning in worldly desires. Though these giants possess tremendous strength, they lose their original nature by indulging the six emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, love, hate, and desire). Not only do they forfeit their true selves, but they become enslaved by their cravings. Consequently, the two immortal mountains Daiyu and Yuanjiao drift to the North Pole and sink into the ocean, forcing countless immortals and sages to relocate.

Worldly people often become trapped by sensory pleasures and material pursuits, as if swallowed by an inescapable sea. The Celestial Emperor (supreme deity in Daoism) thus becomes enraged, diminishing the territory of Longbo and reducing the stature of its inhabitants. By the eras of Fuxi and Shennong, the people of this land still stood several dozen zhang tall. The Classic of Mountains and Seas records giant nations beyond the Eastern Sea, while the Jade Tablet of the River Chart mentions the Longbo country 90,000 li north of Kunlun, whose people live for 18,000 years.

The Great Sages (Daoist adepts who attain the Dao), detesting the harm caused by desires, establish laws to restrain them. Though Shennong (the Divine Farmer) governs wisely, human desires can only be weakened, never fully eradicated.

The passage also describes the bottomless abyss "Guixu" (legendary convergence point of all waters) beyond the Eastern Sea, where waters from the eight directions and nine fields, along with the Heavenly River (Milky Way), pour in endlessly yet neither increase nor decrease. The three sacred mountains of Bohai Sea (Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou) recorded in Sima Qian's Records of the Grand Historian may correspond to the five immortal mountains mentioned here. These floating mountains lack foundations, so the Celestial Emperor stations giant ao-turtles to carry them, fearing they might drift away.

In the far western lands, the Heavenly Emperor commanded Yuqiang (the North Sea God) to use the heads of giant turtles to carry five sacred mountains, thus stabilizing them. There was a kingdom of giants called Longbo whose people could reach the sacred mountains in just a few strides. Once, a giant from Longbo caught six of these turtles in a single fishing attempt, causing Mount Yuanjiao to sink into the sea and forcing the immortals to relocate. Enraged, the Heavenly Emperor reduced the territory of Longbo and shrank the size of its people. By the time of Fuxi and Shennong, the inhabitants of this land were still several dozen zhang tall. Legends speak of a kingdom of giants in the distant wilds beyond the Eastern Sea—likely referring to these very beings.

Forty thousand li east of the Central Plains lies the kingdom of Jiaoyao, where people are only one and a half chi tall (as recorded in the Shenwu Chapter of the Book of Songs). In the far northeast, there exists a creature called the "contentious person," measuring a mere nine cun (mentioned in both the Classic of Mountains and Seas and the Shenwu Chapter of the Book of Songs). Having discussed the immense, we now turn to the minute.

Fan remarks: The sacred mountains were borne by giant turtles, yet the giants of Longbo effortlessly caught them—proof that even the colossal is not invincible. Meanwhile, the tiny people of Jiaoyao stand only one and a half chi tall, and the contentious persons of the northeast are a mere nine cun, demonstrating that the minuscule also has its place. True wisdom sees beyond scale, neither dismissing the small nor marveling at the vast. How can we be certain that the tip of a hair marks the limit of smallness? And who can declare that heaven and earth define the bounds of largeness?

South of Mount Jing grows the Mingling tree, which counts five hundred years as a single spring and another five hundred as autumn. In ancient times, there was the Great Chun tree, measuring eight thousand years for each season. Yet on rotting soil, mushrooms sprout at dawn and wither by dusk; midges of spring and summer are born with the rain and perish under the sun.

Lu observes: If one indulges in desires and loses their innate nature, what difference does it make whether the form is large or small, the lifespan long or short? From immortals to ants, once true nature is forsaken and desires run wild, all are fundamentally marching toward dissolution.

Fan adds: The Mingling and Great Chun trees are what Zhuangzi called the "great year" (long-lived beings), while the mushrooms and midges represent the "small year" (short-lived beings). Though their spans differ, the awakened transcend such distinctions—neither anxious about the distant nor forceful with the fleeting. Only then can all things be seen as equal.

This passage presents several allegorical tales about the limits of human perception. It begins by mentioning Pengzu (the legendary figure said to have lived eight hundred years) – why must people insist on understanding his secrets of longevity just to compare themselves with him?

Next it describes the distant northern region where lies the celestial pool called Minghai, containing an enormous fish named Kun that stretches thousands of miles long, and a gigantic bird called Peng whose wings resemble clouds hanging from the sky. Zhuangzi speaks of Kun transforming into Peng, but how could ordinary people believe such marvels? Humans cling stubbornly to familiar things, remaining skeptical even when told the truth. When Emperor Yu traveled the land, he witnessed these wonders personally; Boyi (minister of Emperor Shun) knew of them and gave them names; Yijian (ancient naturalist) recorded them upon hearing the accounts. Though these extraordinary tales invite doubt, figures like Yu and Boyi persisted in documenting them – not as empty fantasies, but to shatter humanity's rigid preconceptions.

Master Fan comments: Fish belong to Yin – they can dive but not fly; birds belong to Yang – they can fly but not dive. Though Kun and Peng are colossal, they still operate within Yin-Yang principles. Conventional scholars, limited by their narrow experience, deny such phenomena's existence, let alone comprehend the profound mystery of "the boundless and infinite." Therefore, Liezi (Daoist master) deliberately cites records by Yu and Boyi to demonstrate these accounts have ancient origins.

Finally, we hear of tiny insects called Jiaoming by the riverbanks, swarming on mosquito eyelashes without touching each other, completely unnoticed by their hosts. Even Li Zhu (legendary figure from Huangdi's era who could see autumn hairs at a hundred paces) and Ziyu couldn't spot them while straining their eyes in daylight; nor could the sharp-eared Chiyu or the musically gifted Shi Kuang detect their faintest sounds at midnight. This proves those who rely solely on sensory perception will inevitably miss the subtlest phenomena of existence.

The Yellow Emperor and Rong Chengzi (legendary Daoist practitioners) observed a three-month purification retreat (Zhaijiao) together on Mount Kongtong. Their minds reached a state of supreme emptiness and stillness—utterly quiescent like dead ashes, their bodies motionless as withered trees.

This passage describes the profound state attained in Daoist cultivation: perceiving reality through spirit (Shen) rather than physical eyes. True "spiritual vision" arises when the inner mind is completely tranquil, mirroring all things naturally without reliance on ordinary sight. In such states, vast images may suddenly appear—like the silhouette of Mount Song—yet even a mountain's grandeur cannot fully convey the immensity of this spiritual realm.

Similarly, they listened through Qi (vital energy) rather than ears. This "Qi-hearing" aligns wholly with nature, bypassing external senses. In this state, one might abruptly perceive sounds like thunderclaps, yet even thunder's roar cannot match the depth of such perception.

Lu Zhongxuan explains: If confined by form and sound, piled earth may resemble mountains, and swarming mosquitoes may buzz like thunder. Thus, suddenly seeing mountain shapes or hearing thunderous noises is unsurprising.

Fan Yingyuan elaborates: Ancient figures with keenest sight—Li Zhu and Ziyu—could only perceive the visible, blind to formless realms; those with sharpest hearing—Chiyu and Shi Kuang—heard only audible sounds, deaf to silence. Only the Yellow Emperor and Rong Chengzi, through purification, achieved a mind "like dead ashes" and bodies "as still as withered wood." They observed with spirit, not eyes; listened with Qi, not ears. Like tiny insects swarming by a river—invisible to Li Zhu even with strained eyes—they appeared clear as Mount Song to the adepts. Nighttime sounds unheard by Chiyu's pricked ears resounded like thunder to them. Who can truly grasp the boundaries of scale?

To ordinary perception, the Kunpeng (mythic leviathan bird-fish) and a tiny insect seem incomparable. Yet from the boundless Daoist perspective, they are equal—neither superior nor inferior.

Consider the "You" tree of Wu-Chu: in winter, it bears red sour fruit; its bark cures dizziness, prized in the Central Plains. Yet transplanted north of the Huai River, it becomes a trifoliate orange. Mynah birds cannot fly past the Ji River; raccoon dogs perish beyond the Wen—all due to shifts in terrestrial Qi (earthly energy). Though form and Qi...

This scripture primarily discusses the fundamental equality and self-sufficiency of all things' intrinsic nature, and how humans should transcend superficial differences to perceive their essential reality.

Though all things differ in form and disposition, each possesses a complete and self-sufficient nature. The diversity of phenomena arises from fluctuations of Yin-Yang, geographical variations, spiritual Qi (vital energy) resonance, and the influence of habits—yet none of this affects their inherent equality. Those who truly comprehend the Dao (the Way) do not fixate on distinctions like size, length, or similarity and difference, which are merely surface appearances. Figures like Yu the Great and Boyi, though capable of naming all things, represent a lesser understanding compared to the enlightened sages such as the Yellow Emperor and Rong Cheng, who attained a higher state of realization—directly perceiving the profound essence through "spiritual vision and Qi-hearing" (shen shi qi ting).

The text provides examples illustrating the natural variations in creatures' inherent natures: orange trees transform into trifoliate oranges when transplanted north of the Huai River, mynah birds cannot fly beyond the Ji River, and raccoon dogs perish if they cross the Wen River—all consequences of geographical and climatic influences. Though forms shift and Qi ebbs and flows differently for each being, the innate nature they receive remains whole and immutable. As the Zhuangzi's "Free and Easy Wandering" states, the awakened do not overly concern themselves with these superficial distinctions.

Later, the text references the famous Taihang and Wangwu Mountains in ancient southern Jizhou. Regarding the "Foolish Old Man Who Moved Mountains" parable, the author emphasizes that seemingly foolish actions (such as attempting to move mountains) may in fact embody great wisdom—echoing the earlier theme of transcending appearances to grasp essential truth.

Note: The term "spiritual vision and Qi-hearing" (shen shi qi ting) refers to an advanced state in Daoist cultivation where one perceives reality directly through refined spiritual and energetic faculties, bypassing ordinary sight and hearing. Rong Cheng, mentioned here, was a legendary teacher of the Yellow Emperor, renowned for his mastery of longevity practices.

This passage recounts the allegorical story of the Foolish Old Man who moved mountains, rendered in modern terms as follows:

There was an old man named Foolish Old Man who resolved to level the two great mountains (Taihang and Wangwu) blocking his doorway. He gathered his family to discuss the plan. His wife raised doubts, saying, "With your strength, you couldn't even budge Kuifu (a small hill near Chenliu in Henan)—how could you move mountains like Taihang and Wangwu?" Yet the family decided to transport the excavated earth and stones to the shores of the Bohai Sea.

Thus, the Foolish Old Man set out with three generations of his descendants capable of carrying loads, chiseling rocks and digging soil, using baskets to transport the debris to Bohai. Their neighbor, the widow of Jingcheng, had a young son who had just lost his baby teeth and came skipping along to help. They could only make one round trip per year. An old man named Wise Old Man from Hequ (the bend of the Yellow River) mocked Foolish Old Man: "You're utterly foolish! With what little strength you have left, you can't even destroy a single blade of grass or tree on the mountain—what can you do with all that earth and stone?"

The Foolish Old Man sighed deeply and replied, "Your thinking is too rigid. When I die, my sons will carry on; they will have sons and grandsons, and so on without end. But the mountains won't grow taller—how could we not level them eventually?" The Wise Old Man had no retort.

Later, the Mountain God (an ancient deity who governs mountains, often depicted holding a snake) heard of this and, fearing they might truly flatten the mountains, reported it to the Heavenly Emperor. Moved by Foolish Old Man's sincerity, the Heavenly Emperor sent the two sons of Kua'e (a mythological figure of immense strength) to carry away the two mountains.

This allegory teaches us that persistent accumulation of small efforts can achieve great things. Just as a nine-story tower begins with piled earth, and towering riverbanks eventually become deep valleys. If one perseveres without cease, regardless of time, even the smallest actions can accumulate into monumental change. Like a whetstone and sword wearing each other down until both are consumed, this principle applies to the waxing and waning of all things in the world.

The two great mountains of Taihang and Wangwu originally stood south of Jizhou (one of the nine ancient provinces) on the northern bank of the Yellow River. An old man named Yugong (Foolish Old Man) lived north of these mountains. Troubled by their obstruction to travel, he led his descendants to dig through the mountains. They transported the excavated earth and stones to the shores of the Bohai Sea for disposal, with even the neighboring widow's child coming to help. At the river bend (where the Yellow River turns), a self-proclaimed wise old man mocked them, but Yugong replied: "When I die, my sons will continue; they will have grandsons, and the generations will never end. Yet these mountains won't grow taller—why worry we won't level them eventually?"

This parable contrasts two life philosophies. Ordinary people constantly calculate immediate gains and losses: those chasing short-term profits regret by year's end; those indulging temporary pleasures become laughingstocks after death. These reflect the myopic views of worldly people.

Those who have attained the Dao (the "Great Persons") see differently: they view heaven and earth as a single morning, and millennia as but an instant. They act without utilitarian motives, unconcerned with success or failure. To them, self and others, body and spirit make no difference; temporal sequence holds no importance. Just as Yugong's seemingly foolish actions revealed the narrow-mindedness of the "Wise Old Man"—those attached to physical limitations can never comprehend the Dao's boundlessness.

Rocks yield to dripping water; well ropes wear through wooden railings—not because water is hard or ropes sharp, but through persistent effort. Those embodying the Dao understand: past and present are but one breath; life and death a single thread. They cultivate steadfastly without seeking quick results, maintaining sincerity without rushing for merit. When you grasp this truth, no real difficulties remain. Like the towering Taihang and Wangwu peaks—though ten thousand ren (ancient measurement) high—they will eventually be leveled before the practitioner of unwavering perseverance.

This passage recounts the fable of the Foolish Old Man who moved mountains, illustrating the Daoist principle of unwavering perseverance in cultivation. North Mountain was home to an elderly man called the Foolish Old Man, nearly ninety years old, who lived at the mountain's base. Blocked from passage by two great peaks, he gathered his family to discuss leveling these mountains.

Using dustpans and baskets, they transported earth and stones to the shores of the Bohai Sea, an extremely distant location. Though some mocked him and others questioned his sanity, the Foolish Old Man paid no heed. He reasoned that while his descendants would multiply without end, the mountains would never grow taller—eventually they would be leveled.

Moved by his sincerity, the deity who controlled serpents (the mountain spirit) dispatched the two sons of Kua'e to carry away both peaks. The text concludes by observing that what appears as foolishness contains profound wisdom—this being the deeper meaning behind the name "Foolish Old Man."

The Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing (Scripture of Perfect Virtue Through Empty Non-Action) employs this parable to show how cultivators should emulate the Foolish Old Man's persistence when facing seemingly impossible goals. The title's "Perfect Virtue Through Empty Non-Action" refers precisely to attaining the highest state through cultivation characterized by emptiness, stillness, and wuwei (non-action).