《通玄真經纘義》Vol. 2

This scripture, compiled by Daoist master Nanguzi Du Daojian, elucidates the relationship between the Daoist concept of "utmost sincerity" (jingcheng) and the laws of nature.

The operations of heaven and earth follow their inherent patterns: the lofty sky and solid ground, celestial bodies maintaining their courses, the harmonious interplay of yin-yang, and the seasonal transitions—none of these occur through deliberate effort but manifest naturally in accordance with the Dao (the Way). Rain nourishes plants, spiritual forces (shenming) harmonize yin-yang, and all beings grow spontaneously. The essence of the Dao lies in storing vital essence (jing) and qi within the heart, maintaining a state of tranquil emptiness where the mind becomes vast and formless, silent and soundless. An ideal society mirrors this natural functioning: officials govern with wuwei (non-action), courts refrain from disturbing the people, neither hermits nor idlers exist, commoners are free from forced labor, and no unjust imprisonments occur in the realm. Such governance requires no door-to-door propaganda—when rulers uphold the true Dao with utmost sincerity, even distant nations will be drawn to its virtue (de).

The effectiveness of policies rewarding good and punishing evil depends fundamentally on the ruler's sincerity. No matter how clearly decrees are articulated, they cannot be implemented without genuine sincerity. Ancient sages emulated heaven and earth, embracing all things while nurturing this sincerity in accordance with the natural Dao. In such well-governed ages, no sycophants served at court, no talents were neglected among the people, all occupations flourished peacefully, weapons remained unused, forced labor ceased, and the four social classes lived contentedly—achieving universal harmony without deliberate indoctrination.

Laozi further explains: The movements of celestial bodies, the transformations of yin-yang through seasons, daytime heat giving way to nighttime rest, winds blowing and rains moistening—these natural phenomena nourish all things while remaining invisible. Even when things perish, their dissolution escapes observation. Such mysterious efficacy is called "divine illumination" (shenming). Sages modeling themselves on this natural Dao benefit others without leaving traces and eliminate calamities without visible methods. Though this power seems intangible, it is profoundly real. A single silent command can shake the world when aligned with heaven's will through utmost sincerity. When this sincerity fills one's inner being, it resonates with cosmic forces, manifesting auspicious signs: the appearance of propitious stars, the descent of yellow dragons, the arrival of phoenixes, sweet springs bubbling forth, abundant harvests growing, and rivers and seas remaining calm without flooding.

The sun, moon, and stars are celestial deities; water, fire, earth, and stone are terrestrial deities. Wind, rain, dew, thunder, as well as seasonal changes and the cycle of day and night—all are manifestations of divine presence. Among all beings, human nature possesses the most luminous spiritual awareness, making humanity inherently closer to the divine than other creatures. When heaven and earth give birth to all things, they appear to nurture without deliberate intent, yet all beings flourish naturally. Similarly, when sages govern the people, they eliminate calamities and promote beneficial affairs to nourish the populace. This stems from their inner sincerity (jingcheng), which moves heaven and earth, harmonizes yin-yang, and invites divine blessings, allowing auspiciousness to arise spontaneously.

When the principles of heaven are violated and living beings are harmed, anomalies occur—solar and lunar eclipses, erratic celestial movements, disordered seasons, reversed day-night cycles, collapsing mountains, dried-up rivers, winter thunderstorms, and summer frost. Heaven and humanity resonate with each other; thus, when a nation approaches ruin, celestial phenomena grow erratic, civil unrest emerges, and even rainbows manifest as omens. All things are interconnected, their vital energies (qi) stimulating one another, which is why divine matters cannot be forced through cleverness or artifice.

True sages embody the same virtue (de) as heaven and earth, shine with the same brilliance as the sun and moon, commune with spirits and deities, and align with the cyclical rhythms of the seasons. Holding heaven’s will in their hearts and carrying earth’s energy (qi) within, they maintain a state of serene harmony. Without stepping beyond their doors, they influence the world, transform corrupt customs, and guide the people toward goodness. Such transformative teaching unfolds as naturally as the turning of seasons—this is the realm of inspiring the world through the Dao of divine resonance.

Heaven and humanity are fundamentally connected through the same vital energy (qi). Harmonious qi brings auspiciousness, while discordant qi invites disaster—all closely tied to the ruler’s conduct. When heavenly principles are flouted and virtue (de) is corrupted, heaven’s wrath manifests, and calamities follow. Just as King Cheng of Zhou’s repentance caused fallen crops to stand tall again, or when the ruler of Song sincerely reformed and the planet Mars retreated from its ominous position—these are examples of sincerity moving heaven to turn misfortune into blessing.

Laozi said: Those who cultivate the Dao preserve their heavenly nature and guard their innate authenticity, never allowing themselves to be damaged. Even in adversity, they remain connected to the Dao of heaven. If one never strays from the fundamental Way, what task could remain unaccomplished? Such a person transcends life and death and cannot be coerced by external forces. They command heaven and earth, embrace all things, return to the natural order of creation, abide in perfect harmony, and attain liberation from the cycle of life and death. Their inner sincerity naturally transforms others—this is the ineffable supreme Dao.

All humans are born under the same heavenly mandate, their natures inherently good. By preserving their heavenly nature and mastering the Dao of heaven, nothing lies beyond their capability. Those who return to nature, abide in harmony, and transcend life and death may be called "Perfected Persons" (zhenren).

When sages occupy positions of authority, they embody the great Dao yet seldom speak of it. Their virtue (de) naturally benefits all people—this is the profound meaning of "teaching without words" (buyan zhi jiao).

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) expounds the fundamental principles of governing a state and cultivating the self.

When rulers and ministers lose their virtue (De) and become estranged, even Heaven manifests signs of this disharmony. The truly profound art of governance requires no verbal contention—it achieves results through what appears as non-action (Wuwei). To attract distant regions, one need not force compliance; to foster closeness and harmony, one need not create complications. Just as a night traveler naturally adapts to darkness, a ruler should align with the rhythms of nature. Halting the galloping of warhorses to restore farmland, refraining from extending power forcibly to distant lands—this seemingly static state actually achieves true movement. This is the deeper meaning of "sitting still yet moving forward, submerged yet afloat."

The Dao of Heaven shows no partiality—it comes and goes freely. The wise who align with it find abundance, while the foolish who oppose it meet misfortune. Relying solely on cleverness cannot sustain governance; only those in harmony with Heaven and Earth, holding fast to the natural Dao, can truly master statecraft.

Sages embody the Great Dao, showering blessings upon the people. When rulers and ministers fall into discord, Heaven sends calamities. Distant regions submit without coercion; nearby harmony requires no contrivance. When spirit (Shen) resonates with nature, all things unfold spontaneously. The Dao of Heaven is impartial—gain and loss follow their own principles. Only by harmonizing with Heaven and Earth can one attain the natural state of teaching without words.

Laozi said the relationship between Dao and De is like two sides of leather—seemingly separate yet fundamentally one. Deliberate pursuit leads further away, while quiet contemplation brings one closer. Sages are like clear mirrors: they neither welcome nor reject the myriad things, reflecting them truthfully without attachment. What appears as loss may be gain; what seems like gain may be loss. Those who fully comprehend the Great Dao become like the drunken—forgetful of self, wandering freely through nature yet never departing from the root. This is the state of "Great Pervasion" (Da Tong)—achieving all through apparent non-action.

The Dao is revered and De valued because, though named differently, they share one source—both reside within rather than being sought externally. The sage's mind mirrors all things: when they come, it reflects; when they go, it returns to stillness, maintaining its pure and sincere nature. Without forced action, there is no failure; without possessive clinging, there is no loss. Maintaining this fundamental state makes one unfathomable even to spirits.

Laozi recounts the Yellow Emperor's method of governance: harmonizing the movements of sun and moon, balancing Yin-Yang energies, establishing the four seasons, rectifying calendars and musical pitches, distinguishing gender roles, and clarifying hierarchical order. The strong ceased oppressing the weak; people lived in peace with abundant harvests free from calamity. Officials were impartial, superiors and subordinates cooperated without resentment, laws were clear and unobscured, ministers upright and unflattering, while farmers yielded field boundaries to one another.

In an ideal society, people would not pick up lost items left by others, and there would be no haggling in marketplaces. During such times, the sun, moon, and stars follow their natural courses, winds and rains come in due season, crops flourish abundantly, phoenixes soar in courtyards, and qilin roam the outskirts.

The Yellow Emperor (Huangdi), having comprehended the principles of the Dao's movement and conformed to them, brought great order to the world. Later, he relinquished his power and journeyed to Mount Kongtong (legendary abode of immortals), where he reverently sought counsel from Guangchengzi: "How may one cultivate the body to attain longevity?" Guangchengzi replied: "The profoundest Dao is mysterious and unfathomable; at its ultimate state, it becomes primordial stillness. Do not see with your eyes, do not hear with your ears. Maintain mental serenity, and your body will naturally become upright. You must preserve purity and tranquility—do not exhaust your body, do not disturb your Jing (essence)—only then can you attain enduring life."

When Fuxi governed the world, he lived with utmost simplicity—sleeping on stone pillows and straw mats. He adjusted his daily rhythms according to seasonal changes, carrying the earth on his back while embracing the heavens. When encountering imbalances of Yin-Yang or blockages of Qi, he would regulate and harmonize them; when confronting actions that violated nature, harmed the people, or hoarded wealth, he would resolutely suppress them. The people of that era were guileless and innocent—unconcerned with directions, they wandered aimlessly yet contentedly. They drifted with the currents, unaware of their origins or destinations. Even beasts and venomous creatures retracted their claws and concealed their poisons, ceasing to harm humans.

Fuxi's achievements rivaled heaven and earth, and his Daoist lineage continued through the Yellow Emperor's era. Yet he never boasted of accomplishments or sought fame, concealing the cultivation methods of genuine adepts while aligning with celestial and terrestrial patterns. How was this possible? Because his De (Virtue) resonated with the heavenly Dao, rendering worldly cunning obsolete.

As the six cosmic cycles neared completion and the Two Sovereigns (possibly referring to pre-Fuxi rulers) faded from prominence, Taihao (Fuxi) arose. The primordial simplicity began dissipating as human affairs grew complex. Observing celestial phenomena, Fuxi invented tools and created knotted nets for hunting, earning the name "Fuxi" (Subduer of Animals). He smelted metals to craft cooking vessels, teaching people to prepare cooked food, hence also called "Paoxi" (Kitchen Sacrificer). During his reign, creatures sheathed their claws and fangs. He devised writing systems and established ethical norms—achievements equaling heaven and earth yet claiming no merit. His title "Taihao" (Great Radiance) was wholly deserved.

Laozi said: If heaven were unstable, the sun and moon would have no path; if earth were unsteady, plants would have no roots; if mind were unquiet, right and wrong would have no measure. Thus, only after attaining the Dao can one gain true knowledge. If you cannot comprehend the principles you hold, how can you discern whether what I call "knowing" is genuine knowledge?

This scripture primarily elucidates the relationship between "Dao-De (the Way and its Virtue)" and "humaneness-righteousness," as well as the cultivated state of sages.

Not knowing how to accumulate kindness or bring joy to the people through substantial benefits manifests humaneness. Establishing great achievements, promoting good reputation, regulating rituals between ruler and subject, rectifying hierarchical relationships, clarifying distinctions between close and distant relations, rescuing endangered states, continuing severed lineages, and establishing heirs for those without descendants—these are all expressions of righteousness. Closing the sensory orifices (the nine apertures referring to eyes, ears, nose, mouth, etc.), concealing one's will, abandoning cleverness and wisdom, returning to a state of pristine simplicity, transcending worldly affairs, wandering freely in wuwei (non-action), harmonizing yin-yang energies and achieving unity with all things—this is the true realm of De (Virtue). Thus, when the Dao scatters, it becomes De; when De overflows, it manifests as humaneness-righteousness. Once humaneness-righteousness is emphasized, genuine Dao-De is abandoned.

Dao-De's relationship to the five constant virtues (humaneness, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness) is as fundamental as yin-yang's relationship to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). Just as understanding the alternating illumination of sun and moon and the cyclical progression of seasons completes our comprehension of a year, so too must we recognize how human Dao-De and the five virtues complement each other. When Laozi speaks of "abolishing sageliness and discarding wisdom" or "rejecting humaneness and abandoning righteousness," he is actually opposing those who act under false pretenses of these virtues. Had he truly advocated complete abandonment, the Daode Jing would not have mentioned sages or humaneness-righteousness at all. Therefore, there must first be genuine Dao-realized individuals before true wisdom can exist.

Laozi states: Those with scattered shen (spirit) speak with superficial eloquence; those with unrestrained De act with hypocrisy. When the inner essence of jing (vital essence) is lost, words and deeds become superficial, inevitably becoming enslaved by external things. When qi (vital energy) is exhausted and actions lack restraint, when the heart cannot uphold the true Dao, one sinks into worldly customs. Thus, sages focus on inner cultivation of Dao-De without deliberately displaying humaneness-righteousness. They understand how to regulate the body's sensory organs (nine apertures and four limbs), maintaining harmonious shen—this is the sage's true state.

Dao-De forms the root of the five constant virtues. Having only roots without branches is incomplete; having only branches without knowledge of the root is even worse. The five virtues are like five spiritual forces—when the heart maintains Dao-De, shen does not dissipate. Once this maintenance fails, shen scatters, speech becomes flowery, actions turn hypocritical, and one inevitably becomes enslaved by external things. Only sages understand how to regulate body and mind, preserving shen's harmony—when the root is firm, the branches naturally flourish.

Laozi says: The sage's state is to move within absolute stillness, letting the heart wander in boundless emptiness, galloping beyond physical form, acting without fixed paths, hearing without sound, observing without shape, unconstrained by worldly matters. Therefore, the sage's actions can move heaven and earth.

This scripture primarily expounds on the Daoist teachings regarding self-cultivation and state governance, addressing both personal development and political administration.

Regarding personal cultivation, the scripture states: Ordinary people are bound by worldly concerns, their bodies constrained and spirits dissipated, making it difficult to escape afflictions. Those who have truly attained the Dao (zhenren, or "perfected persons") remain unshackled by mundane matters—neither wearying others nor being wearied by them—thus achieving unity with the natural Dao. When enslaved by external objects and trapped in body and mind, even sages cannot avoid distress, let alone ordinary people.

On governance, the scripture contrasts two approaches: A sagely ruler, embodying benevolence and virtue (De), follows the rhythms of heaven, allowing people to live in peace with simple decrees, lenient punishments, empty prisons, and a society of pure customs. Such rule operates with the effortless efficacy of divine harmony. Conversely, a ruler consumed by insatiable greed incites people to compete for profit, exhausting their vitality, breeding deceit, and fostering banditry. Mutual resentment between rulers and subjects renders governance impossible.

The scripture employs the metaphor of fish gasping in murky water to illustrate how harsh governance stirs unrest: Excessive desires in rulers breed deception among the people; convoluted decrees create instability; limitless demands provoke conflict. Addressing symptoms rather than root causes is as futile as digging channels to stop flooding or carrying firewood to extinguish flames.

True sages govern with simplicity and minimal demands. Without deliberate charity, they embody compassion; without words, they establish trust; without striving, they attain; without forcing action, they succeed. Holding to the natural Dao (Wuwei) and sincere virtue, they inspire universal response as echoes follow sound and shadows trail form. This is grasping governance at its root.

Finally, it observes: Celestial signs reveal fortune and misfortune for all to see; rulers issue clear decrees with defined rewards and punishments—these are essential principles of statecraft.

This scripture primarily elucidates the relationship between rulers and the common people, and the principles by which sages govern a nation.

When the people fully trust their ruler, the ruler becomes as lofty as heaven. Just as fish surface to breathe when water becomes turbid, so too will the people revolt when governance becomes oppressive—this is an inevitable principle. If rulers indulge in excessive desires, the people will resort to deceit; if rulers cherish tranquility, the people will refrain from contention. The sage adheres steadfastly to the Dao (the Way) and practices sincerity, whereupon all under heaven naturally follow. This is what it means to understand the root of governance.

Laozi said that those who dissipate their Shen (spirit) and allow their minds to become chaotic cannot govern effectively. When the functions of form and spirit stray too far, nearby matters are neglected. Thus, one need not step outside the door to understand worldly affairs, nor peer through windows to comprehend the Dao of heaven. The farther one travels, the less one truly knows. This illustrates how profound sincerity arises from within, enabling one's spiritual Qi (vital energy) to resonate with heaven. When heaven and earth interact, all things flourish; when sages emerge, all things become manifest—this is the natural Dao of resonance. The human heart can commune with heaven because our physical forms and life essence originate from it. Therefore, when the heart emits profound sincerity, our spiritual Qi resonates with heaven. When the human mind is pure and luminous, the light of wisdom appears, just as a mirror reflects beauty and ugliness. How could the human heart not be cautious?

Laozi further states that like winter sunlight or summer shade, all things yearn for these yet do not comprehend their essence. The most subtle resonance operates thus: unsummoned it comes, unretained it departs; profound and obscure, appearing as Wuwei (non-action), yet naturally accomplishing all deeds. If governance requires seeing with one's own eyes before understanding, or awaiting commands before acting, then ruling becomes exceedingly difficult. Gao Yao, though mute, became the Great Judge, and the world knew no cruel punishments; Shi Kuang, though blind, became Grand Steward, and the Jin state enjoyed orderly governance. This demonstrates that neither verbal commands nor visible demonstrations are necessary—the sage alone is the true exemplar.

Just as the yangsui (ancient fire-making tool) cannot produce fire without the sun, nor the fangzhu (ancient water-collecting vessel) draw water without the moon, so too governance requires both principle and authority. With the Dao of governance but no position of power, undertakings cannot be established; with authority but no Dao, achievements cannot be sustained. Like the rulers and ministers of Yao and Shun's era, when Dao and righteousness unite, teachings spread, officials become upright, and the myriad people submit. Thus, sages become teachers for a hundred generations.

The people receive教化 not by heeding their ruler's words, but by emulating their ruler's conduct. If a ruler favors boldness, even without openly promoting contention, the state will face many calamities, inevitably descending into plunder and chaos; if a ruler indulges in lust, even without public discussion, the state will become disordered, ultimately leading to decadence. Therefore, the sage maintains inner clarity and discernment in preferences and aversions.

This passage primarily discusses principles of governance and self-cultivation, emphasizing that inner cultivation and the transformative power of virtue (De) prove more effective than external punishments.

The text begins by stating that mere verbal commands and punitive measures cannot truly transform social customs. What truly matters are "spiritual transformation" (shenhua) and "utmost sincerity" (jingzhi). Like the natural progression of seasons, a noble person's influence should resemble archery—beginning subtly yet achieving far-reaching effects. Governing the people requires particular attention to methods of moral influence.

The passage then employs metaphors: when the gnomon is straight, its shadow follows suit; when the water source is clear, the stream flows long. The heart serves as the foundation of the body, just as the ruler forms the foundation of the people. Therefore, a ruler's inclinations must be upright—fondness for martial prowess breeds chaos, while obsession with beauty leads to licentiousness. Only by honoring virtue (De) can one achieve inner and outer clarity. When the foundation is stable, the nation naturally achieves peace.

Laozi (referring to Daoist philosophy here) observes that establishing laws and rewards fails to transform customs when sincerity is lacking. Just as music reveals popular sentiment, observing traditions demonstrates the depth of moral education. Those with genuine sincerity can move heaven, earth, and all things. The highest form of governance operates through spiritual transformation, followed by making people dare not commit evil, while reward and punishment represent the lowest form.

Like mountains that glow by concealing jade, or waters that run deep by holding pearls, inner cultivation manifests naturally. When a nation embodies benevolence and integrity, people transform spontaneously without deliberate rewards or punishments. The ancient sage Boyi needed no words—his exemplary character alone inspired transformation. Empty talk without practice will never gain the people's compliance.

Finally, the text reveals the essence of the Great Dao (Da Dao) as being non-action (Wuwei), formless, and silent—seemingly nonexistent yet omnipresent, the source of all things in heaven and earth. Precisely because the Dao eludes comprehension, sages reluctantly use language to describe it. Here emerges the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action," emphasizing natural accord and subtle transformative methods.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) presents the essence of the Dao and the sage's way of governance through multiple dimensions:

On the nature of Dao: The fundamental principle governing heaven, earth and all things (Dao) often manifests through the simplest phenomena. Just as the character "one" can encapsulate the laws of the cosmos, great things invariably originate from humble beginnings. The Son of Heaven emulates heaven and earth, using the ten thousand things as the foundation of governance—such virtue (De) achieves the most magnificent accomplishments and the most revered reputation. The true Dao operates silently through wuwei (non-action): heaven speaks not yet appears lofty, earth utters not yet seems substantial. A ruler embodying these qualities becomes a true sovereign.

On statecraft: The ideal ruler (sage) governs with Dao and De residing in the heart, practicing benevolent governance with sincerity. Relieving poverty and resolving crises represent intermediate levels of good governance, while the highest form resembles heaven and earth nurturing all creatures—bestowing grace effortlessly yet achieving boundless merit. The text particularly notes that what gets recorded on bamboo slips or inscribed in metal and stone merely captures superficial manifestations of Dao. Though the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors employed different methods, their fundamental principles remained identical.

On transformative education: The sage's teaching emphasizes subtle influence. Just as infants comprehend no doctrines yet respond to maternal affection, sages need not leave their seats to rectify the world—for sincere emotion proves more persuasive than words. When decrees issued from above fail to elicit response below, it often stems from the ruler's lack of authentic feeling.

The passage concludes by emphasizing that true Dao comprehension enables flexible adaptation to changing circumstances without rigid formalism. Though their actions may appear different, they ultimately converge with ancient sages' ways. This wisdom requires no written records for transmission.

This passage primarily discusses the power of sincerity and the way of sage governance.

Sincerity arises from the heart and possesses a profound transformative power. A noble person (one of high virtue) speaks with loyalty and acts with genuine intent—this inner faithfulness manifests outwardly in conduct, moving others to respond. As stated in the Yellow Emperor's Scripture: Human nature originates from Heaven, and the human heart is its pivot. The ruler is like the heart of Heaven and Earth, for the heart is the abode of the divine spirit (Shen). When inner emotions stir, they are expressed through words. Good intentions can summon responses from a thousand miles away, while ill intentions will drive people a thousand miles distant. Thus, when a sage occupies the highest position, his transformative influence is like that of the divine—without leaving his seat, he rectifies all under Heaven.

Laozi said that a son dying for his father or a minister dying for his ruler is not for the sake of reputation, but because the gratitude in their hearts compels them not to evade danger. The grief of a noble person is not an artificial display—it springs from the heart. A sage feels no shame in solitude, for the noble person remains vigilant even when alone. To abandon self-cultivation in the present and chase distant fame is to lose one’s way. Therefore, when a sage rules, the people rejoice in his governance; when he stands among them, they admire his virtue—because he never forgets to benefit others.

Take the examples of Chang Hong, who died for his ruler, or Shen Sheng, who died for his father—both were moved by heartfelt gratitude that made them face peril without retreat. How could this have been for fame? When sages like Yao and Shun ruled, the people were joyful; when sages like Confucius (the "Uncrowned King") lived among them, the people revered them.

Laozi also said that a single shout from a truly courageous warrior can make three armies retreat—this is the power of sincerity. If one advocates but receives no response, or if one’s intent is not accepted, it must be because there is insincerity within. Those who rectify the world without leaving their seats first demand integrity of themselves. Where words fail, demeanor may succeed; where demeanor fails, inner resonance may prevail. The most profound sincerity can penetrate all things—it is not something attained through outward show. Words emerge from the mouth, but actions arise from the heart—sincerity moves people.

Consider how Sunzi trained his troops: their courage came from sincerity. Yet when the King of Wu spoke insincerely (failing to execute his beloved concubine for disobeying military orders), disaster befell his army. How, then, can those who govern nations afford to lack sincerity in word and deed?

Laozi said: Speech should have its guiding principle, and action should grasp the fundamental. If one deviates from the guiding principle and the fundamental, no amount of skill will be of use. Just as the ancient master craftsman Chui (legendary artisan of Emperor Yao's time) could make people understand by cutting off his own fingers: true skill does not lie in superficial techniques. Thus, the superior craftsman acts through wisdom rather than relying on mere technique—closing when it is time to close. Those who do not understand the Dao of closing must force things shut before they can open them.

Excessive speech and unnecessary actions are what the sages caution against. Only by following the origin of the Dao (the Way) and taking De (Virtue/Power) as the foundation for teaching can one avoid failure even without deliberate instruction; handling affairs in accordance with nature causes no harm. Ordinary people may master many skills, but they become enslaved by cleverness, rarely avoiding self-harm. The true master craftsman does not rely on cunning—thus, without a latch, his doors cannot be opened. Those that must be forcibly closed before opening may seem securely locked, yet thieves will still break through. Where, then, lies the fundamental Dao?

Laozi said: Though sages employ different methods, their goal remains the same. Whether preserving or destroying, pacifying or overturning, they maintain the same intention—never forgetting to benefit others. Just as the songs of Qin, Chu, Yan, and Wei differ in melody but all express joy, or the cries of the Nine Yi and Eight Di tribes vary yet convey sorrow. Singing is the manifestation of joy; weeping is the expression of grief—both are outward releases of inner emotion. The sage's heart never ceases, day or night, to think of benefiting others, and thus their grace naturally spreads far and wide.

The sage is not without desires but fulfills them in accordance with the nature of things. The sage is not inactive but acts only when the time is right. Methods differ, but the goal is one; in life and death, their stance remains the same—sacrificing self-interest for the benefit of others without forgetting the world. Even in distant lands with different customs and languages, human nature is universal—when the heart is moved, it manifests outwardly: joy leads to singing, sorrow to weeping, all natural responses. Like the Duke of Zhou laboring day and night, sitting in wait for dawn—this is the true example of never forgetting the people, day or night, and thus grace extends to distant lands.

Laozi said: Only by maintaining Wuwei (non-action, acting in accordance with nature) can one govern well; deliberate action brings harm instead. Those who truly "govern through non-action" are practicing the act of "non-action"; those incapable of non-action cannot truly act meaningfully. Only in silence can the Shen (spirit) remain clear; excessive speech damages it. Those who maintain silence embody the realm of "wordlessness," while excessive speech injures that luminous spiritual nature.

The body has form, but the spirit is formless. What has form produces speech; what is formless needs none. Understanding the mutual dependence and transformation of "being" and "non-being," one ensures the formless does not harm the formed, nor the formed the formless. Thus, the sage...

This scripture primarily expounds the wisdom of governing through Wuwei (non-action) and the way of being for sages and virtuous individuals.

Those who truly understand governance through Wuwei will neither harm their bodies nor allow their Shen (spirit) to injure their physical form. Knowing that supernatural abilities come not through deliberate pursuit but through their absence, such people ensure their body and mind never harm each other.

Master Wenzi said: Reputation can be diligently attained, and achievements can be earnestly accomplished. In ancient times, the worthy man Nanrong Chu felt ashamed of his ignorance regarding the Dao of sages and sought teachings alone. When he visited Laozi and received a single instruction, his Shen immediately brightened, and all his mental blockages dissolved. Even when going without food for ten days, he felt as satisfied as if enjoying the Tailai sacrifice (the highest ceremonial offering). Thus his wisdom illuminated the four seas, his reputation endured through generations, his understanding penetrated heaven and earth, and his discernment could perceive the finest details. To this day people still praise his virtue. This illustrates how "reputation can be diligently attained."

If farmers don't labor diligently, their granaries won't be full; if officials don't inspire sincerity, governance won't be properly conducted; if generals and ministers don't exert effort, achievements won't be established; if lords become lax, their names won't be remembered. The perfected person (Zhiren) acts with such subtlety that it's like thunder concealed within clouds—waiting for the proper moment to act, establishing merit according to circumstances, advancing and withdrawing freely, with nothing beyond their capability.

Nanrong Chu exemplifies how wisdom is attained through learning and achievements are made through action. He first studied under Gengsang Chu, then met Laozi and heard the Dao of nurturing life, ultimately achieving fame throughout the world. This demonstrates how reputation can be diligently attained and achievements earnestly accomplished. Sages act in hidden ways, seize opportunities, and establish merit according to circumstances—what difficulty could their advancing or withdrawing present?

The perfected person maintains absolute sincerity within, and their De (Virtue) flows outward in all directions. When seeing benefits for the world, they rejoice without forgetting; when seeing harm, they grieve as if in mourning. Those who worry about the people's worries will find the people worrying with them; those who take joy in the people's joy will find the people rejoicing with them. Therefore, those who share the world's sorrows and joys cannot fail to become true kings.

The method of sages begins where ordinary people cannot see and culminates where they cannot reach. They position themselves where they cannot be toppled, store provisions in inexhaustible granaries, and accumulate treasures in limitless treasuries. Their decrees flow like water from a living source, appoint people to non-competitive offices, and open gates to certain success. They don't attempt what cannot succeed, don't pursue what cannot be obtained, don't position themselves where they cannot endure, and don't act in ways that cannot be repeated. Great persons (Da Ren, virtuous rulers) implement policies that delight the people, and none disobey. When policies align with the people's hearts, small matters can achieve great results; when policies oppose them, good deeds turn harmful and success becomes failure.

There should be distinctions between perfected persons, sages, and great persons. The perfected person regards the common people as...

A truly virtuous person regards others' gains and losses as their own, sharing in their joy and sorrow. Such a state of being inevitably leads to the realization of true kingship.

The way of governance practiced by sages is subtle and imperceptible at first, yet ultimately unsurpassable. They implement policies as naturally as flowing water, with enlightened rulers issuing edicts that win hearts by following celestial timing. When decrees align with the Dao of Heaven, the people obey spontaneously; when they violate cosmic principles, the populace suffers harm.

The so-called great person possesses inner strength like Heaven and Earth encompassing all things, with outer radiance like the sun and moon illuminating all directions. Just as Heaven and Earth shelter and sustain without exception, and the sun and moon reveal without partiality, sages demonstrate goodness to the world. They neither arbitrarily alter established laws nor lightly change enduring norms. People follow their commands as grass bends with the wind.

If springtime governance errs, the Wood Star (Jupiter) will deviate from its course; if summer policies are disordered, the Fire Star (Mars) will retrograde; if autumn decrees go awry, the Metal Star (Venus) will rise and set abnormally; if winter administration fails, the Water Star (Mercury) will stray from its path. When seasonal governance becomes completely disordered, the Earth Star (Saturn) becomes unstable, the sun and moon display celestial anomalies, the five planets move erratically, and even comets may appear. Conversely, proper spring governance brings abundant harvests; appropriate summer policies ensure favorable weather; correct autumn decrees yield prosperous livelihoods; and suitable winter administration results in national peace and stability.

The human heart-mind receives the numinous Qi (vital energy) of Heaven and Earth, serving as the source of spiritual wisdom. The numinous nature of sages, however, transcends ordinary people. Every stirring of thought—whether good or evil—is invariably perceived by Heaven. Thus the successes and failures of state governance manifest through auspicious signs or calamities, with corresponding omens appearing according to specific circumstances, never erring. As ancient texts state: "Those who disrespect the divine and oppress the people will not receive Heaven's protection." How then can those who hold office and guard territories not act with utmost caution?