《通玄真經(一)》Vol. 7

This passage explores the profound essence of the Dao and the ways to comprehend it. The core ideas can be understood as follows:

The concept of "subtle illumination" (weiming) refers to the two manifestations of the Dao. "Subtle" (wei) denotes the Dao's state of flowing and operating beyond phenomena, while "illumination" (ming) represents the luminous quality of De (Virtue) that shines through obscurity. Without "subtleness," one cannot probe the root of the Dao; without "illumination," one cannot align with its true meaning. This dual aspect embodies the unity of the Dao's essence and its function.

Laozi teaches that the Dao manifests as both softness and strength, as both Yin and Yang energies, as both darkness and light. It encompasses heaven and earth while responding to infinite transformations. Human understanding of the Dao is often limited: people know the superficial but not the profound, comprehend the external but not the internal, grasp the general but miss the subtle. Those who truly understand realize that so-called "knowing" is actually not-knowing, while acknowledging "not-knowing" constitutes true wisdom.

The Dao cannot be heard with ears—what is heard is not the true Dao; it cannot be seen with eyes—what is seen is not the true Dao; it cannot be described with words—what is spoken is not the true Dao. Who can comprehend that all form originates from formlessness? When people become obsessed with distinguishing good from evil, this very discrimination already deviates from the Dao. Those who awaken to the Dao do not cling to words, while those who cling to words have not truly awakened.

Wenzi (a disciple of Laozi) asked: "Can humans speak of subtle and mysterious truths?" Laozi replied: "Why not? But one must understand what true speech is. Those who truly understand speech do not use ordinary words to express it." Just as fishermen get their clothes wet and hunters must run fast—not because they enjoy doing so—the highest speech transcends speech, and the most skillful action transcends action. Those with shallow understanding endlessly debate trivialities. Speech has its source, and affairs have their master. Precisely because the Dao transcends cognition, people cannot truly know "me" (referring to the Dao itself).

(Note: In this text, "De" refers to the manifestation and function of the Dao; "Yin" and "Yang" represent the two fundamental energies of the universe; "Wenzi" is one of the representative figures in Daoist philosophy.)

Wenzi (a Daoist figure) inquired of Laozi whether governing a state also followed certain principles. Laozi replied: Observe those pulling carts—the leader calls out work chants while followers respond in unison. These labor songs coordinate efforts. Even the exquisite music of Zheng, Wei, Hu, or Chu cannot match such work chants in practical efficacy. The essence of governance lies in ritual propriety, not ornate rhetoric. The more laws are established, the more thieves proliferate (just as cart-pulling requires coordinated chants rather than performances of refined music like the "Xianchi" melody. Governing and pacifying the people emphasizes plain simplicity—why pursue superficial embellishments?).

Laozi further explained: The Dao itself has no fixed form, yet serves as the standard for all things. Like how mountains and forests aren't timber yet produce timber; mountains rely on clouds and rain for nourishment, clouds and rain originate from the transformations of yin-yang, and yin-yang stems from harmonious cosmic patterns—all ultimately returning to the Dao. The Dao is precisely that which has no concrete shape or fixed appearance (The Great Dao is formless, just as mountains aren't timber yet yield timber. Tracing from clouds and rain downward, none compare to the Dao. Precisely because the Dao is formless and imageless can it embrace all things and govern everything. Only those who embody the Dao can comprehend its infinite transformations).

Laozi said: When sages establish teachings and implement policies, they must thoroughly examine the entire process to create appropriate systems. When commoners begin obsessing over texts and documents, virtue declines; when calculation becomes prevalent, humaneness diminishes; when contractual documents are over-relied upon, sincerity weakens; when pursuing clever devices and contraptions, simplicity disappears (These phenomena all arise from straying from the Dao. Though such systems emerge according to circumstances, the more elaborate the regulations, the more severe the violations become. Thus when simplicity and sincerity wane, clever methods flourish; the more intricate governance and teachings become, the more deception spreads). Like a se zither unplayed—its twenty-five strings remain in their natural state; or a stationary axle—its thirty spokes stay motionless. Only through alternating tension and relaxation can zither strings produce music; only through alternating labor and rest can cart wheels travel far. What truly functions often appears soundless and formless.

In the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Laozi teaches: Things that appear to be in motion are fundamentally still at their core (just as the zither itself does not produce sound—the music comes from vibrating strings; or how a wheel seems to turn, yet the essence of its movement lies in the stationary axle. Thus, sound emerges from silence, and motion arises from stillness). When superiors and subordinates each fulfill their proper roles, governance becomes effortless; when positions are inverted, chaos ensues (just as one cannot wear a hat on their feet, nor should ministers overstep their ruler—such reversals hasten ruin).

Petty favors undermine righteousness, clever tricks disrupt governance, and excessive harshness damages De (Virtue) (pursuing trivial gains obscures the Dao, while indulging minor tempers erodes fundamental virtue). The true Dao is level and unobstructed, making it easy for people to follow; the finest governance proceeds with unhurried ease, preventing unrest below; the purest loyalty returns to simplicity, freeing people from pretense (when those above are just, none below scheme; when leaders are uncomplicated, none resort to artifice).

Establishing collective punishment breeds resentment among the people, while stripping honors from the worthy turns loyal ministers into rebels (punishing the innocent accumulates grievances, depriving the meritorious of rank sows disloyalty). Those who fixate on legal statutes fail to grasp the root of order and chaos; generals obsessed with battlefield tactics misunderstand the strategic wisdom of courtly deliberation (true statecraft lies in Wuwei [non-action], not harsh laws; genuine strategy resides in grand planning, not the valor of individual soldiers).

The sage prepares for calamity during times of peace ("within fortified gates" refers to the serene realm beyond fortune and misfortune; "beyond the obscure" denotes the mysterious state transcending thought—only sages perceive this). Fools, deluded by petty gains, forget greater harms, thus often losing the substantial for the insignificant (prioritizing immediate profit while neglecting long-term danger epitomizes folly). The greatest benevolence cares for others; the highest wisdom understands others (genuine compassion avoids excessive punishment; true understanding prevents chaotic governance).

Even the most turbulent rivers cannot flood beyond three days; the fiercest storms cease swiftly at midday (symbolizing how tyranny cannot endure, just as gales never blow endlessly). True De (Virtue) does not reside in outward forms... (original text fragmentary here)

The Tongxuan Zhenjing records Laozi's teaching: Those who only know to amass wealth without understanding the need for caution will soon meet with calamity. Those who truly comprehend caution will flourish, while those indulging solely in pleasure will ultimately perish. Thus, those who attain the Dao can use softness to overcome hardness, transforming misfortune into blessing. The Great Dao appears empty, yet its application is inexhaustible.

The ignorant remain stubbornly deluded, treating matters requiring caution as occasions for celebration—this only hastens their downfall. The truly wise hold fast to the Dao, preserving their original simple nature, and naturally turn calamity into fortune, achieving lasting prosperity.

Human nature is originally pure and tranquil; rituals and norms exist to regulate conduct. Understanding one's inherent nature ensures self-cultivation does not violate the Heavenly Dao; knowing behavioral standards prevents disorder in action. Purity and tranquility are the root of human nature, while norms restrain excessive desires. If entangled by selfish desires, one may appear calm outwardly but remain chaotic within; comprehending laws and standards brings order even in activity.

The heart-mind is like a commander issuing orders, governing the entire body. Seeing the root allows one to infer the branches; grasping the Great Dao enables one to respond to all transformations—this is wisdom. Knowing when to act and when to stop, understanding methods and means—this is attaining the Dao. Those who truly attain the Dao advance and withdraw with measure, foreseeing both fortune and misfortune.

Earning others' praise stems from the heart-mind's power; inviting scorn and slander arises from its failings. Words once spoken cannot be stopped from spreading; actions nearby influence distant places. Good and evil deeds are self-determined, yet blame and praise lie with others. Collective judgment cannot be restrained—once conduct is flawed, its impact spreads far.

Success is often hard-won yet easily lost; reputation difficult to establish yet simple to ruin. People often belittle minor harms and overlook subtle matters, ultimately inviting great disaster. Fortune and misfortune both originate within oneself—they share the same source, with benefit and harm closely adjacent. Only the exceptionally discerning can distinguish them. Thus, human deliberation is the gateway to fortune and misfortune, while conduct is the pivot of benefit and harm—both demand utmost caution.

The actions of true Dao-attainers are invariably well-planned from the start, foreseeing final outcomes. Know that the birthplace of fame and profit is also the gateway to fortune and misfortune. Therefore, sever the root of fame and profit, close the door to fortune and misfortune—thus wisdom's deliberations naturally settle, and neither movement nor stillness brings calamity.

Laozi observed that while people understand the principles of governing chaotic times, they fail to grasp the fundamental methods of preserving life. Thus, the sage studies the characteristics of the era to act and weighs circumstances to strategize. The sage harmonizes with the transformations of Yin-Yang, balances firmness and flexibility, matches strength with appropriateness, and decides movement or stillness according to the moment, achieving merit through existing conditions. By observing the development of things, one can foresee their trajectory; by examining a single phenomenon, one can discern its patterns of change. In this way, one masters the surface manifestations of things and adapts to all transformations, ensuring a lifetime free from predicaments.

People excel at analyzing the Dao of order and chaos yet struggle to preserve themselves in turbulent times. The sage, however, assesses the situation and adapts flexibly, seizing the right moment to act, thus avoiding disgrace throughout life. Some things can be spoken of but not done; others can be done but not spoken of. Some are easy to do yet difficult to accomplish, while others are hard to achieve yet easily ruined. What can be done but not spoken of is the wisdom of choice; what can be spoken of but not done is hypocrisy. What is easy to do but hard to perfect is practical affairs; what is hard to perfect yet easily ruined is reputation and status. These four aspects are what the sage pays special attention to, and only the wise can uniquely perceive their subtleties.

Laozi said that those who cultivate the Dao focus on the minutest details, ensuring their actions never miss the opportune moment. By maintaining constant vigilance and preparation, disaster finds no foothold. When calculating blessings, avoid greed; when considering misfortunes, exercise double caution. Just as plants shielded from frost on the same day remain unharmed, even a fool with preparation achieves the same results as the wise. Accumulating good thoughts forms blessings, while harboring resentment invites calamity. People know how to remedy disasters but fail to understand how to prevent them. In truth, prevention is far easier than correction. Today, people neglect preventing disasters before they arise, focusing instead on remedies after the fact—even a divine being would struggle to plan perfectly under such circumstances. The paths by which misfortunes arise are endlessly varied, which is why the sage chooses seclusion to avoid them.

(Note: "Yin-Yang" refers to the complementary duality of existence; "choice" signifies the wisdom of life decisions; "sage" denotes an enlightened master who has attained the Dao.)

This passage expounds wisdom for navigating life, with its core philosophy summarized as: act prudently to avoid misfortune, and maintain broad-mindedness to achieve success.

The truly wise (superior individuals) first avert calamity before seeking gain, and distance themselves from disgrace before pursuing fame. Sages focus on the essence of things before they take form, rather than clinging to fixed outcomes. Thus, misfortune cannot befall them, and neither slander nor praise can taint them. People often become entangled in disputes of profit and harm due to personal attachments—without such biases, how could praise or blame arise? Noble individuals address problems before they manifest, making resolution effortless; petty people wait until disaster takes shape before attempting remedy, making escape nearly impossible.

Laozi proposed five principles for conduct: the mind should be meticulous, the will expansive, wisdom flexible, actions upright, and abilities versatile yet applied with simplicity. Specifically:

• "Meticulous mind" means preventing harm before it arises, remaining vigilant at the first sign of trouble and not indulging desires.
• "Expansive will" entails embracing the world, accommodating diverse customs and perspectives.
• "Flexible wisdom" means adaptability like flowing water that reaches all directions, or a spring that never runs dry.
• "Upright actions" signify unwavering integrity—remaining pure and untainted, steadfast in hardship and restrained in prosperity.
• "Versatile abilities" involve mastery of both civil and martial arts, balancing movement and stillness, handling affairs with perfect measure.
• "Simplicity in action" means grasping the essence to govern the whole, mastering complexity with minimal effort and stillness.

One who embodies these five qualities:

• With a meticulous mind, prevents minor faults from escalating.
• With an expansive will, embraces all things.
• With flexible wisdom, comprehends the principles of affairs.
• With upright conduct, knows what not to do.
• With versatile abilities, governs comprehensively.
• With simplicity in action, seizes the root of matters.

Yet Laozi notes that unless one is a sage of supreme virtue (referring to those with the highest moral cultivation), it is difficult to possess all these qualities simultaneously.

Finally, the passage emphasizes the cultivation of sages: they perform even the smallest good deeds and correct even the slightest faults. They act without relying on shamans (ancient spirit mediums), and even spirits dare not offend them—this is the noblest state. Nevertheless, sages remain ever cautious, maintaining an attitude of reverent vigilance.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) here expounds the principle of cautious conduct in human affairs.

One should maintain vigilance daily, approaching all matters with the attitude of Wuwei (non-action, a core Daoist concept referring to following nature without forced interference). When externally you owe no debts to others, and internally your conscience remains clear, there will be no need to seek divine intervention or live in constant fear. Such a person naturally attains peaceful longevity.

Foolish individuals possess limited wisdom yet insist on undertaking numerous affairs, thus inevitably encountering difficulties with every action. When guiding people with proper teachings, affairs progress smoothly; when leading the masses with deviant ways, failure becomes inevitable. To abandon simple, feasible methods that guarantee success in favor of difficult paths doomed to fail—this is the consequence of foolishness. Some act without considering gains and losses, thereby courting their own destruction. Overly complicated matters rarely succeed despite great effort; simple affairs accomplish themselves easily. To neglect what's simple—this represents the height of foolishness.

Laozi said: Blessings arrive as fine as silk threads, while calamities emerge in tangled complexity. The omens of fortune and misfortune are subtle, invisible to ordinary people. The sage perceives both the beginnings and endings of affairs, hence must observe carefully (blessings light as goose down are detected only by sages; calamities heavy as Mount Tai remain unseen by fools). When enlightened rulers implement rewards and punishments, they act not for personal gain but for the state's benefit. Any action that profits the individual while harming the nation will never be undertaken by a wise sovereign.

This passage expounds principles for wise rulers governing a nation and noble individuals cultivating virtue. An enlightened sovereign administers rewards and punishments with impartiality, promoting what benefits the state and its people while halting actions that serve only personal advantage at others' expense. Those whose conduct aligns with the Dao (the Way) and demonstrates proper virtue are junzi (noble persons), while those deviating from righteousness through improper actions are xiaoren (petty persons). The distinction lies not in fixed social status but in whether words and deeds accord with propriety.

Human wisdom manifests in three tiers: The highest (shangshi) comprehend profound truths effortlessly; the middling (zhongren) require diligent effort yet avoid confusion; the lowest (xiashi) possess clouded minds—the more they strain intellectually, the more bewildered they become. Ancient sages pursued the Great Dao without self-satisfaction, whereas modern people abandon this quest while boasting of minor achievements.

Two historical anecdotes illustrate this: When King Zhou of Shang used ivory chopsticks (xiangzhu), the virtuous minister Jizi lamented this extravagance; when Lu state employed wooden figurines (muren) for burials, Confucius decried the ritual impropriety. These examples demonstrate how the wise discern inevitable outcomes from initial signs. While petty persons admire lavish funerals as displays of prestige, noble individuals perceive the omens of decline concealed within.

(Note: "Shangshi xuanjie" refers to the highest adepts comprehending metaphysical principles; "mingqi" denotes ancient funerary objects)

Laozi observed that humaneness is what people admire, and righteousness is what people revere. Yet those who are admired and revered sometimes meet with personal ruin and national collapse—this occurs when they fail to accord with the circumstances of their time. Those who understand humaneness and righteousness but lack adaptability cannot truly comprehend the great Dao.

The Five Emperors (Huangdi, Zhuanxu, Diku, Yao, and Shun) honored virtuous governance through wuwei (non-action) rule. The Three Sovereigns (Fuxi, Shennong, and Huangdi) employed righteous principles to punish tyrants and bring peace to the people. The Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period relied on military force and strategic wisdom. To forcibly implement the governing ways of ancient sage-kings during the Hegemons' era would be as inappropriate as gluing tuning pegs to adjust a zither's pitch or quenching thirst with poisoned wine.

One must understand both the celestial movements of Heaven and the human affairs of earth to properly govern worldly matters. Those who know only Heaven's way cannot interact with people; those who understand only human affairs cannot walk the path of Dao. Obstinacy invites disaster, while being enslaved by external things makes one vulnerable to the erosive forces of yin and yang.

The truly accomplished Daoist maintains external adaptability while preserving internal constancy. Outer flexibility serves to understand others, while inner steadfastness preserves one's authentic self. Thus one should uphold firm principles within while remaining pliant without, moving in harmony with all things. The most precious quality of Dao lies in its dragon-like capacity for wondrous transformation.

Clinging stubbornly to a single virtue or practicing only one method, even if successful, inevitably confines one to limited perspectives that obscure the greater Dao. The great Dao is empty, still, and wuwei (non-acting)—it neither forces things upon the world nor seeks advantage for itself.

This scripture elucidates the essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way) and the spiritual state of those who cultivate it. The text begins by pointing out that those who truly align with the Great Dao do not act through deliberate effort, but naturally embody its movement. Since the Dao itself operates through wuwei (non-action), consciously striving to "follow the Dao" would instead lead to artificial striving, inviting disputes and calamities.

All phenomena between heaven and earth—the movement of sun and moon, the transformations of yin-yang, the nourishing of rain and dew, even the moral teachings of virtue—are harmonious manifestations of the Dao. Those who have attained the Dao (zhenren, or "true persons") can embrace all things like a vessel holding heaven and earth, perceive truth as clearly as a mirror reflecting sunlight, and roam freely through the cosmos. Though dwelling in the tangible world, they comprehend the formless Dao, returning to the pristine state of creation's origin.

Zhenren abide in a unique state of awareness: maintaining clarity within apparent chaos, perceiving truth within stillness. They achieve genuine utility through "non-use" and attain true knowledge through "not-knowing." The scripture then explains several key concepts: the Dao is the source of all things, De (Virtue) is the foundation of life, humaneness accumulates benevolent grace, and righteousness aligns with collective moral principles. These four form the essence of self-cultivation and worldly conduct.

Finally, it traces historical devolution: in high antiquity, humanity followed pure spontaneity (Dao); in middle antiquity, people upheld De (Virtue); in recent eras, they can only adhere to humaneness and righteousness. This implies that as epochs change, humanity drifts further from the primordial simplicity of the Dao—a truth genuine noble-minded individuals should recognize.

This scripture primarily discusses the contrasting pursuits and outcomes of two types of people: noble individuals who value righteousness (Dao) and petty people who chase after profit. What they fear losing differs, leading to entirely different destinies. The noble fear losing righteousness, for without it they cannot preserve the Great Dao; the petty fear losing profit, for without it they cannot survive. By observing what they dread, one can discern the distinction between misfortune and blessing.

Laozi states that sometimes attempts to help others may inadvertently harm them, while actions meant to harm may paradoxically benefit them. Forcing excessive food upon someone with dampness-related ailments (which worsens their condition) or giving cold water to a feverish, thirsty patient (which exacerbates symptoms) – these seemingly caring acts are actually harmful. Fools pursue immediately pleasurable things, while those who follow the Dao avoid them. The methods of sages may appear contrary to common sense yet ultimately align with the Dao, whereas ordinary people’s seemingly reasonable actions often violate heavenly principles. Thus misfortune and blessing, harm and benefit frequently manifest inversely – discernment is essential.

Laozi further observes: Even if one achieves merit, deviation from benevolence and righteousness (Ren-Yi) will breed suspicion; even with faults, adherence to these virtues earns trust. Benevolence and righteousness are fundamental principles of conduct, the most revered virtues under heaven. Though one may devise perfect strategies to resolve crises or preserve nations, success remains unattainable if these actions contradict Ren-Yi. Conversely, even imperfect plans rooted in loyalty to rulers and alignment with these virtues ensure personal preservation. Therefore, rather than exhausting oneself with countless schemes, dedicated practice of Ren-Yi proves superior. Some ministers who solve national crises yet grow arrogant ultimately fail by abandoning these virtues; others whose sound advice goes unheeded but who steadfastly uphold Ren-Yi remain unharmed.

(Note: The character "迕" signifies opposition or contradiction; "合" indicates alignment or accordance; "审" here implies dedicated practice.)

In the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Laozi expounds the core principles of governance and human relations. The foundation of good governance lies with the noble person (one of virtuous character), through whom the common people benefit; the basis of prosperity rests with the people, enabling the noble to share in its fruits. Only when both noble and common folk occupy their proper positions can society function smoothly, with people exchanging life's necessities through labor, allowing the Dao (the Way) to flow unimpeded.

He particularly emphasizes: Excessive desires in a person erode righteousness, while excessive worries impair wisdom. A well-governed state delights in upholding the true Dao, whereas a tyrannical state revels in indulging desires. Just as water flows downward to form vast rivers, so too must a ruler approach subordinates with humility to gain clear perception. When the ruler does not contend for power with ministers, the Dao of governance remains unobstructed. The ruler is the root, the ministers are the branches—expecting lush foliage from an unsteady foundation is impossible.

Laozi further observes: A loving father cares for his children by innate nature, seeking no reward; a sage ruler nurtures the people not to exploit them, but through natural disposition. If one grows arrogant by claiming merit, kindness will cease. By aligning with the people's desires, one gains their support and allegiance. Observing the beginning of things allows one to foresee their end.

Finally, he stresses: People love one another through shared righteousness; groups grow strong through unity. The broader the benevolence bestowed, the farther its influence spreads; where righteousness fades, only force can maintain a narrow domain. This illustrates how selfless De (Virtue/Power) wins widespread support, whereas abandoning righteousness to rely solely on force yields limited influence.

Laozi teaches that wealth obtained through unrighteous means, when hoarded without charitable giving, inevitably brings calamity upon oneself. Such individuals neither benefit others nor preserve themselves—this epitomizes supreme foolishness, akin to an owl doting on its young only to invite disaster (hoarding ill-gotten wealth is like nurturing a tiger that will turn on its master or raising an owl that brings misfortune).

Therefore, stubbornly pursuing excess is inferior to knowing when to stop; edges honed too sharp cannot long endure (even treasures locked in the strongest vaults ultimately attract great thieves—how could they be preserved forever?). Virtue (De) embodies the Dao, and the Dao manifests through Virtue—this mutual transformation is without end (those who attain the Dao necessarily possess Virtue, while the virtuous are aligned with the Dao; those perfected in both merge with the transformations of Heaven and Earth).

Yin contains Yang and Yang contains Yin—this principle permeates all phenomena, its profundity beyond full expression. Auspicious omens herald coming blessings, just as inauspicious signs portend approaching misfortune. Seeing good omens without practicing virtue prevents blessings from arriving; recognizing bad signs while actively cultivating goodness averts disaster. Benefit and harm share the same origin; misfortune and fortune dwell as neighbors. None but the supremely sagely can discern their boundaries. Thus misfortune conceals fortune's seed, while fortune harbors misfortune's sprout—who can fathom their ultimate pattern? (The mutual generation and restraint of Yin-Yang reveals fortune and misfortune's cyclical transformation. What appears as fortune may initiate misfortune; encountering misfortune while practicing virtue transforms it into fortune's precursor. Their entanglement resembles intertwined ropes—only the supremely enlightened perceive their true workings.)

When grave illness approaches, one first craves fish and meat with peculiar intensity; when a state nears collapse, it first rejects loyal ministers' counsel (a dying patient's sudden gourmandizing signals impending death, just as a kingdom's rejection of honest advice for slander heralds ruin). Thus when disease reaches the marrow, even the finest physicians cannot reverse it; when a state approaches destruction, the wisest advisors cannot salvage it (only master physicians and loyal ministers discern hopeless cases to avoid wasted effort, reserving their full power for situations where hope remains).

First cultivate personal virtue, then govern the people; first bring order to one's household, then assume official duties. Thus self-cultivation is the root.

The practitioner who cultivates body and mind attains genuine De (Virtue); the householder who governs his family maintains abundant De; the ruler who administers a state achieves overflowing De. (Through self-cultivation one observes family and state—the essence of practice lies in perfecting De.) The foundation of the people's livelihood consists simply in clothing and food. To properly resolve these necessities constitutes merit; failure in this basic provision means no merit. Without meritorious deeds, De cannot endure. (Food and clothing represent the people's lifeline, while the people form the foundation of rulers and ministers. Only when the people's basic needs are met can rulers long preserve their states.)

Therefore, when conforming to circumstances yet failing to succeed, do not rashly alter punishments; when following seasonal cycles without visible effect, do not arbitrarily change principles. The proper time will surely return—this constitutes the guiding principle of Dao. (Eras have their flourishing and decline, fortunes their ebbs and flows—one must not impose the complex policies of bygone dynasties as urgent priorities today. Punishments should not be abolished, nor principles altered—understanding this means grasping Dao's essential guidelines.)

Wise emperors enrich their people (thus securing the root); hegemonic rulers crave territorial expansion (coveting vastness); endangered states only enrich their officials (excessive taxation impoverishing the populace); stable nations always appear financially insufficient (during transitions between order and chaos); while doomed states empty their granaries (profligacy depleting treasuries daily—with rulers decadent and people exhausted, what alternative remains but ruin?). Thus we say: the highest rulers govern through apparent Wuwei (non-action) (yet actually achieve governance by conforming to natural patterns).

This passage expounds the principles of governing a state and bringing peace to the people. If rulers can govern through Wuwei (non-action, meaning refraining from forcibly interfering in people's lives), the populace will naturally live and work in contentment. However, if wars are rashly initiated—such as mobilizing an army of a hundred thousand—the daily expenditure would amount to a thousand pieces of gold, and famine is certain to follow in the wake of war. Thus, weapons are inauspicious objects and not things a noble person should cherish (because war erupts first, followed closely by famine, the state squanders ten thousand pieces of gold, and the people are exhausted by military campaigns and forced labor—hence it is clear that weapons are inauspicious and not valued by sages).

To mediate great grievances inevitably leaves behind residual resentment—why engage in such unwholesome actions? (By "mediating grievances," it means the ruler lacks wisdom, dismissing meritorious officials and stripping enfeoffed lords of their territories, unable to endure momentary anger and thereby sowing the seeds of future calamity. When the ruler above rages violently, the ministers below grow resentful and arrogant—why accumulate such lingering resentment through unwholesome deeds?)

The enlightened rulers of antiquity did not rely on words to draw those near to them closer, nor did they use rhetoric to attract those from afar. By bringing joy to those nearby, those from afar would naturally come to submit (the key to making the near content and the distant come lies in De [Virtue], not in words). Sharing common aspirations with the people brings harmony; jointly safeguarding with them ensures stable governance. Those who share the same heart and De with the people understand this: a state that gains the people's strength will prosper, and a ruler who earns their praise will achieve renown.

Improper actions invite bandits; improper speech invites calamity. Do not rush to speak ahead of others, nor lightly believe whispered confidences ("whispering" here means spreading—words spoken earlier may later reach one's ears). Rumors can travel a thousand miles; words can bring disaster. The tongue is like a trigger—once words are spoken, even four horses cannot retrieve them (bandits act out of greed for profit; disasters arise from words. Though words have no feet, they can run; though they have no wings, they can fly. A flaw on white jade—how can four horses chase it down? Such is the speed with which words bring calamity).

In ancient times, Master Zhonghuang (a Daoist figure) said: Heaven has the Five Phases....

All things between heaven and earth follow their inherent patterns of classification. The earth contains the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), sounds have five musical notes (gong, shang, jue, zhi, yu), objects possess five flavors (sweet, bitter, spicy, sour, salty), colors manifest in five hues (blue, yellow, red, white, black), and humans embody five moral qualities (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness). Thus the world contains twenty-five categories of people.

The highest five types are: Divine Persons (capable of miraculous transformations), True Persons (with minds pure and untainted), Dao Persons (thoroughly penetrating without obstruction), Ultimate Persons (hearts discerning profound mysteries), and Sages (wisdom encompassing all things). The next five categories are: Virtuous Persons (reserved and introspective), Worthy Persons (compassionate and magnanimous), Wise Persons (discerning and merciful), Good Persons (gentle and yielding), and Eloquent Persons (skilled in speech). The middle five types include: Impartial Persons (fair and selfless), Loyal Persons (devoted in service), Trustworthy Persons (honest and reliable), Righteous Persons (acting appropriately), and Courteous Persons (humble and respectful). The subsequent five are: Scholar Persons (serving superiors), Artisan Persons (crafting objects), Conservator Persons (managing mountains and lakes), Farmer Persons (cultivating fields), and Merchant Persons (circulating goods). The lowest five categories are: Common Persons (ordinary people), Servant Persons (laboring for others), Ignorant Persons (deluded and unaware), Flesh Persons (lacking spiritual awareness), and Petty Persons (deficient in understanding).

The difference between the highest and lowest categories resembles the distinction between humans and livestock (illustrating how the gap between wisdom and foolishness spans heaven and earth). Though sages live in the mundane world, they still rely on eyes to see, ears to hear, mouths to speak, and feet to walk (earthly sages remain constrained by sensory limitations). But True Persons (those who have attained the Dao) comprehend without looking, know without hearing, arrive without walking, and achieve fairness without speaking (transcendent sages embody emptiness and unity with the Dao).

Thus the methods sages employ to govern the world remain untouched by True Persons, just as the conduct worthies use to rectify society remains unaltered by sages (worldly governance and spiritual cultivation each maintain their domains, like Emperor Yao matching heaven's virtue while Bo Yi and Shu Qi upheld purity to correct customs). What we call the "Dao" has no front or back, left or right—all things merge indistinctly within it, beyond distinctions of right and wrong (the Dao cannot be found when sought ahead, seen when looked for behind, nor defined to left or right; all things mysteriously unite as one, reluctantly named the "Dao").