《通玄真經纘義》Vol. 12

In the twelfth volume of the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Du Daojian (also known as Nanguzi) elucidates the transformation of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) from antiquity to the Zhou dynasty through the chapter "On Superior Ritual":

In remote antiquity, the perfected persons (zhenren, referring to ancient Dao-realized beings) who attained the Dao could harmonize the Yin-Yang energies, and all living beings revered their De, coexisting in harmony. At that time, the ten thousand things followed their natural order, human hearts remained pure and untainted, and the world was at peace. By the era of Fuxi, humanity began awakening from primal ignorance, attempting to comprehend the patterns of heaven and earth, yet De had already become fragmented and inconsistent.

During the reigns of Shennong and the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi), they established cosmic order, harmonizing the four seasons and Yin-Yang forces, and the people followed them with reverence. However, by the time of the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), humans became deluded by desires and external temptations, losing their innate purity. Particularly after the Zhou dynasty, ostentation replaced simplicity—people feigned virtuous conduct, employed cleverness to imitate sages, and used flowery rhetoric to seek fame, completely deviating from the root of the great Dao. This moral decline was the result of gradual deterioration over time.

The cultivation of true Dao-realized individuals involves returning the heart-mind to a state of emptiness (xu). Yet worldly people flaunt their De while suppressing their true nature, with their inner selves troubled by the desires of the five viscera (in Daoist physiology, the five zang organs correspond to five emotions), chasing empty fame through extreme behavior. Those who attain the Dao see through life, death, honor, and disgrace—neither the praise nor criticism of the entire world can sway them, for they have grasped the essence of the great Dao.

"Superior Ritual" refers to the five ancient ceremonial systems: auspicious, inauspicious, military, diplomatic, and celebratory rites. The perfected persons of high antiquity were the Dao-realized rulers of primordial times. From Fuxi through Shennong, Huangdi, and down to the Three Dynasties, governing methods differed, and rituals correspondingly transformed. By the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the fundamental root of the great Dao had been entirely lost.

Laozi said: The ancients governed all under heaven without binding their hair or wearing collared garments. They nourished the ten thousand things without harming them, gave without taking. In that era, Yin and Yang were harmonized, all beings flourished abundantly, and even birds dared build nests before humans (metaphor for ultimate peace).

In ancient times, people could bend down to pick fruits and tame wild beasts to follow them. But when the world declined, birds, beasts, insects, and snakes became threats to humanity, so people forged iron and crafted weapons to defend against these dangers. When faced with difficulties, the common people sought convenience; when encountering disasters, they prepared tools, each using their wisdom to avoid harm and pursue benefit. Old methods should not be rigidly adhered to, and tools should not remain unchanged. Thus, even the laws of the ancient sage-kings were subject to transformation. This is the principle expressed in the Daode Jing: "The name that can be named is not the eternal name."

The Five Emperors (Huangdi, Zhuanxu, Diku, Yao, and Shun) ruled with different methods, yet all brought virtue and blessings to the world. The Three Kings (Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, and King Wen of Zhou) acted differently, yet all left their names for posterity—these are examples of adapting to the times. It is like the musician Shi Kuang tuning the pitch: though he moves up and down without fixed positions, when measured by the standard, all are precise. Only those who truly understand the essence of music can compose, and only those who grasp the root in their hearts know how to apply the compass and square, enabling them to govern the people. Therefore, if the institutions of the former kings no longer suit the times, they should be abolished; the good methods of later generations should be adopted. The sages established rituals and music but were not bound by them, crafted tools but were not confined by them, and created laws but were not restricted by them. This is the true meaning of "the Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao."

The movement of the heavenly Dao has no fixed pattern, and the world continues to decline. In ancient times, rulers wore their hair loose and left their collars open, yet no one criticized their attire. All things flourished, and the people were grateful for their virtue. But as the world declined, birds, beasts, insects, and snakes became calamities, and laws and tools had to change with the times—from then on, warfare and conflict arose.

Laozi said: The ancient sage-kings observed the celestial phenomena above, examined the geography below, and drew from human affairs in between. They harmonized the Qi of Yin and Yang, followed the changes of the four seasons, and studied the characteristics of mountains, plains, waters, and soils—their fertility, barrenness, heights, and depths. Based on these, they developed production and created wealth to alleviate hunger and cold, preventing the suffering of disease. They established rituals and music in accordance with human affairs, promoted the Dao of benevolence and righteousness to regulate human relationships, and formed family bonds between father and son based on the natures of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). They established the great principle of ruler and minister through the clarity and turbidity of the five tones and the mutual generation of the six pitch-standards, forming the state. They observed the sequence of the four seasons—beginning, middle, and end—to establish the rites of elders and juniors, forming the official system. They divided territories into provinces and counties, appointed officials to govern, and established the Great Learning to provide education. These were the guiding principles of governance.

This passage elucidates the cyclical patterns of development and the principles of sage governance. All phenomena undergo cycles of flourishing and decline, just as a bowstring cannot remain taut indefinitely—what reaches its zenith must inevitably wane. Only sages can maintain perpetual vitality without decline.

The movements of heaven and earth mirror the trajectory of human life. By comprehending how life begins like the primordial unfolding of all things, one can perceive the state preceding existence; by observing how youth matures into prime, prime decays into old age, and old age culminates in death, one can deduce the subsequent course of all transformations. Only sages remain unchanging amidst these transformations.

The text illustrates four examples of developmental cycles: Music, originally meant to focus the spirit (Shen) and restrain excess, degenerates into sensual indulgence; writing, initially created to manage affairs, becomes a tool for the wicked to evade justice; imperial gardens (囿), first established for ancestral rites and military training, deteriorate into hunting grounds where nobles harass commoners; meritocracy, designed for equitable education, decays into factionalism (朋党比周). This explains why virtuous officials prevail in prosperous eras while corrupt manipulators dominate turbulent times.

The Dao of heaven and earth follows the principle of reversal at extremes—what fills to the brim must empty. The sage's governance rests on three essentials: First, establishing ritual propriety and moral standards (礼义廉耻), for people without shame become ungovernable; second, discerning good from evil, as ritual principles collapse without honoring virtue and abolishing vice; third, mastering adaptability to reform institutions when they grow corrupt. The essence of governance lies in harmony, while failure often stems from imbalance of power.

(Note: The term "囿" refers to ancient imperial hunting parks, "弋猎" denotes hunting activities, and "朋党比周" describes factional collusion—all manifestations of deviation from the Dao (道) in Daoist philosophy.)

The law may execute the unfilial, but cannot make people truly filial; it may punish thieves, but cannot make people honest. When a sage ruler governs, they clearly distinguish between good and evil to guide the people, use classical teachings to regulate conduct, draw close to the virtuous and promote them, while distancing and demoting those of poor character. Thus, punishments remain unused, ritual propriety (Li) flourishes, and the worthy are employed.

The most outstanding talents in the realm may serve as the Three Dukes (highest officials); the finest in a province may become the Nine Ministers (central high officials); the best in a state may serve as the Twenty-Seven Grandees (mid-level officials); and the most capable in a village may become the Eighty-One Primary Scholars (local officials). Though Heaven and Earth are vast, without talent, order cannot be established; though the emperor is exalted, without the support of the people, governance cannot endure. If the people lack the restraints of ritual propriety, integrity, and shame, good governance cannot be achieved. Therefore, when sages reform corrupt systems and renew institutions, they invariably uphold ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame as the Four Pillars. When the worthy hold office, ritual propriety flourishes, and punishments naturally fall into disuse.

Those whose abilities surpass ten thousand are called "Heroes" (Ying); those surpassing a thousand are "Eminent" (Jun); those surpassing a hundred are "Outstanding" (Jie); and those surpassing ten are "Gallant" (Hao). Those who comprehend the patterns of Heaven and Earth, understand human affairs, possess magnanimity to embrace the masses, extend benevolence to pacify distant lands, and wield wisdom to weigh advantages and disadvantages—these are "Heroes of Humanity." Those whose virtue (De) suffices to transform the people, whose conduct aligns with righteousness, whose integrity wins hearts, and whose discernment illuminates the lower ranks—these are "Eminent of Humanity." Those whose actions set an example, whose wisdom resolves doubts, whose trustworthiness upholds commitments, whose fairness distributes resources, whose deeds serve as models, and whose words command belief—these are "Outstanding of Humanity." Those who adhere to duty without neglect, uphold righteousness without factionalism, face hardship without evasion, and encounter profit without grasping—these are "Gallant of Humanity."

These Heroes, Eminent, Outstanding, and Gallant are appointed according to their abilities, like a tree's roots governing its branches—the essential guiding the secondary. When those above lead, those below respond; within the Four Seas, all unite in heart, casting aside greed and baseness to embrace benevolence and righteousness. Thus, transforming the people becomes as effortless as wind bending grass. But if the unworthy govern the worthy, even harsh laws cannot suppress wickedness—just as the small cannot restrain the great, nor the weak command the strong, for such is the natural order of Heaven and Earth. Therefore, sages select the worthy to achieve merit, while foolish rulers appoint their own kind. Observe whom they employ, and the realm's order or chaos becomes clear; examine their factions, and their wisdom or folly is revealed.

The ancient standards for selecting talent were: first, moral cultivation; next, benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music; then documents, arithmetic, laws, and institutions; while Heroes, Eminent, Outstanding, and Gallant were chosen chiefly for their wisdom.

This scripture primarily examines the relationship between ritual propriety, human nature, and social governance.

The text observes that using harsh laws to prohibit wickedness only addresses symptoms rather than root causes. Just as during the Warring States period when strategies of vertical and horizontal alliances prevailed, even the most severe punishments failed to curb wickedness. What truly matters is solving problems at their source.

Laozi believed that excessive emphasis on ritual propriety distorts human nature. Ritual is like carving away at human nature and suppressing genuine feelings—even when the eyes wish to see or the heart desires joy, they must conform to ritual constraints. This externally binds the body and internally stifles emotions, violating the natural order and ultimately causing lifelong suffering. It is as futile as trying to forbid the wild nature of beasts without mending the pen or attempting to block a river's flow with one's hands.

At its core, ritual propriety is a tool for regulating desires and preventing evil, a universal standard for society. Like Yan Hui, whose words and actions naturally conformed to ritual, one can effortlessly resist impropriety. However, it is crucial that ritual is applied harmoniously. When a noble person's inner self is filled with ritual and righteousness, their external conduct naturally achieves harmony, thereby balancing the emotions of heaven and earth, yin and yang, and all things.

The key to governing society lies in eliminating the motives for crime rather than relying solely on the deterrence of punishment. Just as when something is known to be useless, even the greedy will abandon it; when its uselessness is unknown, even the upright cannot refuse it. Historically, those who lost their states or lives often did so due to excessive desires. Understanding that one does not need a fan in winter or fur in summer allows one to see through the impermanence of all things.

The text concludes by noting that theft has existed since ancient times, yet there is a stark contrast between punishing petty thieves and tolerating those who steal entire states. This implies that social governance must focus on fundamental principles.

This passage reveals the root causes of moral decline in society and the way of governance:

When rulers live in thatched huts with unadorned beams (like Emperor Yao), even rewards cannot tempt people to steal. But when tyrants like Jie and Zhou erect extravagant palaces with jade gates and marble terraces, they meet with ruin. Laozi said: Following one's innate nature is called the Dao (the Way), preserving one's heavenly endowment is called De (Virtue). Only when human nature becomes lost do we emphasize "benevolence"; only when the great Dao declines do we promote "righteousness."

The rise of benevolence and righteousness actually signals the decline of Dao and De. When primal simplicity fades, ritual and music become superficial ornamentation. When people begin distinguishing right from wrong, the masses become confused; when they treasure pearls and jade, the world falls into contention. Ritual was meant to distinguish noble from humble, righteousness to harmonize human relations. But in decadent times, ritual degrades into superficial courtesy masking transactions, while righteousness becomes using charity to purchase loyalty—resulting in rulers and ministers accusing each other, and family members turning hostile. Just as stagnant water breeds insects and piled earth spawns creatures, excessive emphasis on ritual and music breeds hypocrisy.

Governing a state without accumulating basic necessities destroys social simplicity. When laws conflict with Dao and righteousness, when actions contradict benefits, when the wealth gap blurs the distinction between ruler and servant—this is disorder. In prosperity people are deferential; in scarcity they contend. Ritual and righteousness flourish in abundance, while violence arises from poverty. Excessive desires make simplification difficult; unmet needs make contention endless. In well-ordered times, even petty men keep rules; in chaotic times, even gentlemen break laws.

Humans survive on food—three days without eating brings illness, seven days brings death. Ancient states stored ten years' grain, thus weathering nine years of floods or seven of drought. Decadent eras neglect reserves because rulers' greed prevents simplifying governance. When the upper class lacks supplies, they exploit the lower; when the lower lacks, they rebel.

This passage depicts the various chaotic phenomena during societal decline and the dire consequences of violating natural laws.

When rulers indulge in pleasures, they inevitably compete with the people for resources. They quarry mountains and plunder treasures, ravaging the natural environment. They fell trees to build towering platforms, burn forests for hunting, drain lakes for fishing, pile earth to create artificial hills for dwellings, dig deep for drinking water, excavate rivers to form ponds, construct walls for defense, and pen wild beasts. These actions disrupt the balance of Yin-Yang, causing seasonal disorders, calamities like thunderstorms and hailstorms, and the withering of all living things. Rivers run dry, plants wither in summer, and mountain streams cease to flow.

People demarcate borders, tally populations, forge weapons for defense, establish clothing hierarchies to distinguish nobility from commoners, and use rewards and punishments to separate the wise from the foolish—only to end up with rampant warfare and the slaughter of the innocent.

Those insatiably greedy, who refuse restraint, invite condemnation even from Heaven, Earth, and the spirits. The disharmony of Yin-Yang, the chaos of the seasons, frequent natural disasters, and the suffering of all beings—these stem from violating the natural principle that "fullness leads to decline." Without introspection and correction, humanity will suffer the bitter consequences.

Laozi said that the process by which people lose their innate nature resembles the gradual accumulation of Yin energy. When rulers are benighted and ignorant of the great Dao (the Way), virtue (De) collapses, and decrees violate the rhythms of Heaven. Spring and autumn lose their harmony, the ruler's position becomes unstable, ministers evade responsibility and remain silent, officials flatter and distort the truth, relatives grow distant, and petty men scheme with sycophantic plots. Ruler and subjects become estranged, kin drift apart, fields lie fallow, and roads stand empty. Gold and silver pile up, yet none value them; divination is frequent, yet none heed its warnings. The world fractures as feudal lords rule autonomously, customs decay, harsh laws proliferate, and the common people suffer amidst endless warfare.

All this illustrates one truth: when rulers defy the natural Dao—grasping greedily and disrupting balance—the result is societal collapse in every aspect.

This passage elucidates the principles of governance and natural law.

Though city walls may be high and strong, the casualties of war are devastating, with hundreds of thousands perishing, and the elderly, weak, and starving beyond count. From then on, the world struggles to find peace, and the people cannot live and work in contentment. The alternating movement of Yin and Yang dictates the rise and fall of nations, yet the key to order and chaos lies in human action—it requires sages to step forward and guide the greater situation.

True sages take Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue) as their foundation, supplementing them with benevolence and righteousness. They draw close to the wise, inspire those afar, and unify the world under one principle. They dismiss deceitful ministers, silence slander, abolish harsh laws, and dissolve factional strife. Sages do not forcibly create an era but instead align with the times and seize the opportune moment.

The ancients established the system of the Three Dukes (highest-ranking officials) to deliberate on the Dao of governance and harmonize Yin and Yang. When sages govern, they take Dao, De, benevolence, and righteousness as their standards, removing corrupt officials, simplifying governance, suppressing rumors, and eliminating factional disputes, making the world as harmonious as one family.

Laozi said: Though the Feng River (legendarily deep waters) may plunge ten fathoms (an ancient unit of length), its clarity reaches the bottom, reflecting even metal and stone. Yet precisely because it is so clear, fish, turtles, and dragons dare not dwell there. Barren rocks yield no crops, and desolate mountains harbor no deer, for there is no sheltering shade. Similarly, if governance is overly severe—if harshness is mistaken for discernment, cruelty for loyalty, and scheming for merit—it is like cutting grass: the more diligently one cuts, the greater the harm. Loose governance fosters simplicity in the people; oppressive governance breeds cunning.

Where waters are too clear, fish and turtles dare not come, fearing capture; where mountains lack vegetation, deer depart, having lost their peaceful refuge. All this illustrates that governance must not be excessively harsh—one must know how to leave room for flexibility.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Authentic Scripture of Pervading Mystery) primarily discusses principles of state governance and military strategy. Laozi states: Governing a nation requires upright Dao (the Way), while waging war demands extraordinary tactics. First secure domestic stability to establish an invincible position, then seek victory over enemies. Attacking a disordered state before properly governing one's own is like extinguishing fire with fire or stopping water with water—similar elements counteract ineffectively, thus victory requires employing dissimilar methods through unexpected strategies.

The text proposes military tactics of "using stillness to control movement, order to await chaos, satiety to confront hunger, and ease to meet exhaustion." The interplay between orthodox and unorthodox methods resembles the mutual conquest of water and fire or metal and wood (Five Phases)—mastering this ensures invincibility. When two sides possess equal De (Virtue), the more numerous prevail; with equal strength, the wiser triumph; when wisdom matches, the disciplined defeat the disorderly.

Wenzi (a Daoist master) begins his work with "Imperial Dao" and concludes with "Hegemonic Methods," expounding governance strategies from sage-kingship to forceful rule. Governing through upright Dao while employing extraordinary tactics in war remains timeless wisdom. Yet hegemonic rulers (those deviating from Dao) invert this principle—applying unorthodox methods not only in warfare but also in governance, thereby transforming upright Dao into deceitful ways and benevolent rule into calamity. Alas! When governance abandons Dao to obsess over cunning stratagems, what avail countless calculations?

The appended "Pronunciation Guide" clarifies uncommon characters, such as:

• 泏 (pronounced "mì," meaning flowing)
• 殰 (pronounced "dú," meaning stillbirth)
• 詘 (equivalent to "屈," bending)
• 袤 (sloping)
• 湛 (immersed)
• 蚑蟯 (pronounced "qí ráo," tiny insects)

These annotations aid readers in correctly comprehending obscure terms within the scripture.

This passage provides phonetic notations and explanations for uncommon characters found in the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery). Here's the modern vernacular interpretation:

These terms appear across different chapters of the scripture:

In Chapter 3 "Nine Guardings":

"暴" is pronounced as "pù" (expose); "譎" as "jué" (deception); "賈" as "jià" (calculate); "螫" as "shì" (insect venom); "仿佯" means to wander freely; "囹圄" denotes prison; "噞" is read as "yú jiǎn qiè" (to drink water); "景" is interchangeable with "影" (shadow); "倕" as "chuí" (craftsman); "亡" with "无" (nothingness); "囷" as "qū lún qiè" (round granary). Additional terms include "便宁" meaning tranquility; "影柱" metaphorically describes evanescence; "建鼓" depicts solidity appearing empty; "攓" connects with "蹇"; "䀹" with "睫" (eyelash); "侑巵" refers to tilted vessels; "登假" is pronounced "dēng xiá".

In Chapter 4 "Symbolic Sayings":

"倍" corresponds to "悖" (perverse); "要" as "yāo"; "天下双" means attaining both worldly gains; "屈" as "jiǔ wù qiè" (peculiar); "懾" with "摺"; "瘉" with "愈" (recovery).

In Chapter 5 "Dao and De":

"稸" equals "蓄" (accumulate); "刺" as "qī cì qiè"; "賈便" pronounced "gǔ hé píng shēng"; "蝡" as "ruǎn" (mole crickets); "蜎" as "yuān" (flying insects); "劌" as "miào wèi qiè" (unharmed); "捽" as "cún wù qiè" (to pull); "趣" with "趋" (tend toward); "亟" as "qù lì qiè" (swift); "罷" with "疲" (fatigue).

In Chapter 6 "Supreme De":

"樅" as "qī róng qiè"; "狖" as "yú jiù qiè" (gibbons); "晞" as "xī" (to dry); "堁" as "kè" (dust); "瑗" as "yuàn" (jade disc); "礛" as "lì gān qiè"; "儲" as "zhū" (whetstone); "螿" as "jiāng" (cicadas); "枘" as "ér ruì qiè"; "椓" as "zhuó".

This passage primarily provides phonetic annotations and definitions for obscure characters found in the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery). I will explain them volume by volume:

In Volume 7, "Subtle Illumination Chapter":

"軤" refers to the sound of a carriage in motion, pronounced "fú hē"; "苛悄" describes a stern and impatient demeanor, pronounced "hé qiào"; "偁" means to praise, pronounced "chēng"; "覡" denotes a male shaman (female shamans are called "巫"); "煦" represents the warm, nurturing breath of all things, pronounced "xū jù".

Volume 8, "Naturalness Chapter" explanations:

"徼" shares meaning with "邀" (to intercept); "窊" indicates low-lying terrain, pronounced "wū guā"; "褒" means not to exaggerate; "褊" means not to diminish; "亟" conveys urgency, pronounced "qù lì"; "輴" and "樏" are both components of ancient vehicles; "骿胝" refers to calluses formed on hands and feet from labor.

In Volume 9, "Lower Virtue Chapter":

"圉" is synonymous with "禦" (to resist); "脅" shares meaning with "協" (to cooperate); "窳" describes illness caused by exhaustion, pronounced "yù"; "敖" in "敖世" is pronounced "ào"; "伉" in "伉行" is pronounced "kàng".

These annotations primarily assist readers in understanding difficult or obscure terms in the scripture, representing common exegetical content in classical studies. Through these explanations, we can more accurately grasp the original meaning of the text. They involve ancient vessel names, descriptions of body parts, and expressions of moral concepts—all fundamental knowledge required for studying Daoist scriptures.

This passage primarily provides phonetic notations and definitions for obscure characters found in the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery).

First, it explains that "螘" means "ant," while "镺𨱵" refers to massive wild beasts. "罝罘" denotes nets for catching rabbits, and "𦉾罟" indicates fishing nets. "隼" is a fierce bird of prey, and "鷇" refers to newly hatched chicks. "蹠" means to leap, "偄" is equivalent to "soft," "□" corresponds to "thin," and "□" describes rough bones. "囦" is simply the character for "abyss."

In Chapter 11, "Shang Yi Pian" (On Superior Righteousness), "璜" refers to a semicircular jade ornament, "刎" means to cut, "徧" is synonymous with "category" indicating similar types, "邃" conveys depth, and "詆" means to reprimand.

In Chapter 12, "Shang Li Pian" (On Superior Ritual), "懋" is equivalent to "blurred vision," "攓" matches "to pick up," "譊" describes a sharp cry, and "墽" refers to barren land. "疢" means illness, "錯" corresponds to "to place," "圜" indicates an animal enclosure, and "雍" means to block. "㖥" is equivalent to "choking up," "硥" matches "clam," and "除" means to open.

These annotations serve to clarify the pronunciation and meaning of difficult terms in the scripture, aiding readers in comprehending the original text.