《通玄真經纘義》Vol. 3

Before the formation of Heaven and Earth, there existed a state of profound chaos where all existence merged into undifferentiated unity. Subsequently, the clear and light elements ascended to form Heaven, while the turbid and heavy elements descended to form Earth. The most refined Qi transformed to create the celestial realm, differentiating into the four seasons; the division of Yin and Yang energies produced human essence (Jing), while turbid Qi generated insects. Through the interaction of hardness and softness, the myriad beings came into existence.

The human spirit (Shen) originates from Heaven, while the physical body is rooted in Earth. When the spirit returns to the Heavenly Gate and the body dissolves back into the earth, what remains of the "self"? Therefore, the sages emulate the operating principles of Heaven and Earth, remaining unbound by worldly constraints and undistracted by external temptations. They regard Heaven as father and Earth as mother, taking Yin-Yang as their guiding principle and the four seasons as their standard. Heaven maintains clarity through stillness, Earth achieves stability through tranquility. All beings that violate this natural order perish, while those that conform survive. Silent emptiness is the dwelling place of spiritual illumination, and the realm of nothingness constitutes the abode of the supreme Dao.

The Dao first manifested as undifferentiated Oneness ("Yi"), which then divided into Yin and Yang energies. The interaction of these two produced the "Three" (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity), from which the myriad creatures subsequently emerged. All things contain both Yin and Yang aspects, achieving balance through harmonious interaction. "One" represents the origin of form, while "Nine" symbolizes the ultimate in numerical principles. The sages exhaustively investigate the mysteries of Nine while holding fast to the root of One, thereby mastering the Dao. This "One" is the original mind, which is Heaven, which is humanity, which is all things, which is the Dao, which is the self. To comprehend this primordial truth is to grasp the fundamental principle of the Dao.

Human beings are born through the creative transformations of Heaven and Earth: during the first month the embryonic foundation forms; the second month sees the generation of blood vessels; the third month brings embryonic shaping; the fourth month witnesses fetal formation; the fifth month develops sinews and meridians; the sixth month forms bones; the seventh month completes physical development; the eighth month initiates movement; the ninth month brings restless activity; and the tenth month culminates in birth. When the physical form is complete, the five viscera assume their respective functions: the liver governs the eyes, the lungs govern the nose, the spleen governs the tongue, the kidneys govern the ears, and the gallbladder governs the mouth. External manifestations correspond to internal functions—the round head mirrors Heaven's form while the square feet emulate Earth's shape.

Heaven possesses four seasons, Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), nine luminaries (sun, moon and seven planets), and a 360-day cycle; humans correspondingly have four limbs, five viscera, nine orifices, and 360 joints. Heaven's winds, rains, cold and heat find their counterparts in human choices, rejections, joy and anger: the gallbladder resembles clouds, the lungs resemble Qi, the spleen resembles wind, the kidneys resemble rain, and the liver resembles thunder. The human body's structure mirrors Heaven and Earth, with the heart serving as sovereign. The eyes and ears correspond to the sun and moon, while blood and Qi parallel wind and rain. When celestial bodies deviate from their courses—as in solar and lunar eclipses causing loss of light, or untimely winds and rains creating disasters, or the five planets straying from their paths bringing regional calamities—these celestial irregularities mirror potential disorders in the human microcosm.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between humans and the cosmic order of heaven and earth, as well as how to cultivate health and attain spiritual realization through regulating one's Shen (spirit), Qi (vital energy), and blood.

All things in heaven and earth originate from the fundamental "One" (the Dao), giving birth to the myriad beings through the transformations of Yin-Yang. Humans are born from the harmonious interaction of heaven and earth's Yin-Yang energies, thus the principles governing all creation are inherently present within the human body. The cycles of expansion and contraction follow natural laws—alignment brings vitality while opposition leads to decline.

The Dao of celestial movement is vast and boundless, yet even heaven knows to moderate its radiance and cherish its divine light. How then can human ears and eyes endure prolonged external stimulation without exhaustion? How can the Shen remain constantly dispersed without depletion? Therefore, sages emphasize inner cultivation without neglecting external manifestations. Blood and Qi constitute the essence of the human form, while the five viscera serve as the foundation of spiritual vitality. When blood and Qi concentrate inward without dissipation, the chest and abdomen become replete while desires diminish, resulting in acute hearing and clear vision. When the Qi of the five viscera gathers at the heart without scattering, one achieves robust vitality and upright conduct—attaining perceptual clarity, mental focus, and immunity to calamitous influences.

Heaven and earth produce both mobile creatures and stationary plants; humans embody qualities of both, thus possessing supreme spiritual capacity. Limbs, bones, Shen, Qi, and blood all require careful nurturing—none should be excessively taxed. Those bearing governance responsibilities must particularly balance human affairs with natural principles, cherishing all beings as themselves—only then do they truly comprehend the Great Dao.

The sensory orifices are windows of the Shen, while blood and Qi act as envoys of the viscera. When eyes and ears indulge in sensory pleasures, the five viscera become agitated, blood and Qi grow disordered, and the Shen scatters uncontrollably. In such states, even mountain-sized signs of fortune or misfortune go unnoticed. Thus sages practice moderation rather than indulgence, maintaining sensory clarity and inward-focused Shen to perceive past and present auspicious omens. The further the Shen wanders outward, the less one understands the Dao.

This passage emphasizes internalizing spiritual focus and restraining desires, achieving mind-body harmony through regulating the viscera, blood, and Qi to ultimately commune with the Dao. Concepts like "guarding the interior" and "internalizing spiritual focus" represent essential Daoist cultivation methods—advocating introspection, breath regulation, and other techniques to prevent Shen from scattering and Qi from reckless movement.

When the eyes are dazzled by colorful sights, vision becomes unclear; when the ears are disturbed by various noises, hearing becomes imprecise; when the mouth craves rich flavors, illness often follows. When the mind is constantly led astray by external things, behavior grows restless and unsettled. Excessive desires scatter one's primordial Qi (yuanqi), while intense love and hatred deplete one's vital essence (jing). If these faults aren't corrected early, one's vital spirit (shen) will gradually decline.

Just as the widest river will slowly evaporate under constant winds, even the most vigorous spirit will inevitably wane when disturbed by material desires. Those who embody the Dao (sages) perceive the essence of things—unswayed by external temptations, they preserve their spirit within, maintaining light bodies and luminous minds that naturally attain profound wisdom. Their ability to perceive past and future stems from inner purity. The principle of nurturing life is simple, akin to tending horses: simply remove harmful influences.

Humans often fail to reach their natural lifespan due to excessive pursuit of pleasure. Truly understanding life-nourishment means not forcing outcomes. Heaven, earth, and all things are fundamentally one—grasping this unity reveals all truths, while missing it leaves one in confusion. As beings existing within this unity, why compete and compare? What must come cannot be avoided; what must go cannot be retained. Neither resent poverty nor exult in wealth—simply follow nature's course. By avoiding extremes, one attains true joy.

All things grow naturally without human interference—forcing outcomes violates this principle. Just as pulling seedlings harms crops, excessive intervention in life-nourishment shortens lifespan. Those embodying the Dao commune with heaven and earth, unite with all things—neither chasing immortality nor fearing death, indifferent to wealth or poverty, they follow nature's rhythm. By avoiding extremes, they attain supreme joy.

The Dao-embodied ones Laozi describes are those who adapt to circumstances while fulfilling their inherent roles, performing what's needed in each moment. Excessive grief or joy damages virtue (de); love and hatred burden the heart; emotional turbulence deviates from the great Dao. In life they follow celestial patterns; in death they return to nature. In stillness they merge with yin qi; in movement they resonate with yang qi.

The ruler of the body is the spirit (Shen), while the core of the heart-mind is the divine illumination. If the body is overworked without rest, it will collapse; if the vital essence (Jing) and Qi are excessively depleted without cessation, they will be exhausted. Therefore, the sage follows the laws of nature and dares not violate these principles.

By responding to concrete matters with a state of emptiness and non-being, one can surely investigate their essence; by receiving the substantial with a mind of ethereal clarity, one can exhaustively comprehend their details. Maintain a state of serene joy, empty stillness, and non-action (Wuwei) until life's end. Neither distancing oneself from anything nor clinging to anything, uphold the cultivation of Virtue (De), harmonize the Qi of Yin-Yang, and accord with the movement of heavenly Dao. Keeping company with the great Dao and dwelling near Virtue, neither deliberately pursuing blessings nor preemptively avoiding calamities—neither life nor death can alter his state of mind. This is called the "utmost spirituality." One who attains this state finds no desire unfulfilled and no endeavor unsuccessful.

The sage maintains a heart-mind of empty stillness in dealing with worldly affairs, acting in accordance with heavenly Dao and responding according to the timing. Unshaken by considerations of gain and loss, unchanged by matters of life and death, he receives reality with emptiness, upholds the cultivation of Virtue, and harmonizes the Qi of Yin-Yang. He neither preemptively avoids calamities nor deliberately pursues blessings. When events arise, he responds with divine precision; when they pass, he returns to stillness. This is what is called "guarding emptiness."

By regarding worldly power lightly, the spirit is not burdened; by treating the gain and loss of all things with indifference, the heart-mind is not confused; by equating life and death, the will is not fearful; by becoming one with transformation, fame does not disturb the mind. The true perfected person relies on the unshakable pillar (the Dao), walks the unobstructed path, draws from the inexhaustible source (Virtue), and learns from the eternal teacher (nature). Wherever he goes, he proceeds smoothly; whatever he does, he accomplishes effortlessly. Whether bending or stretching, bowing or lifting, he maintains his innate nature without confusion, and no worldly misfortune, blessing, gain, or loss can disturb his heart-mind.

Those who pursue righteousness can be influenced by benevolence but cannot be coerced by force; they can be guided by justice but cannot be tempted by profit. The noble person may die for righteousness but will not linger for wealth and honor; he may sacrifice himself for righteousness but will not fear death—how much more so for one who has attained the state of non-action (Wuwei)? The person of non-action has no attachments; he regards the world as illusory as a shadow. Observing the conduct of the utmost perfected above and deeply contemplating the profound meaning of Virtue and Dao, while examining worldly behavior below, he finds ample cause for shame. Only one who does not take the world seriously has truly established the root of learning.

All things arise from "non-being" (wu), and "being" (you) is born from "non-being"; when "being" perishes, it returns to "non-being." "Being" cannot exist apart from "non-being," yet "non-being" does not depend on "being" to exist. Understanding that "being" is the manifestation of "non-being" and that "non-being" is the root of "being," one realizes that "non-being" is not absolute nothingness, nor is "being" eternally existent. "Non-being" manifests the essence of Dao, while "being" displays the forms of things. Therefore, the sage's wealth does not come from possessing much, nor does his poverty stem from having nothing. He equalizes all things, regards life and death as the same, and remains unattached.

This scripture primarily discusses how practitioners of the Dao can maintain inner purity and tranquility, undisturbed by external matters.

Laozi states that power, status, and material wealth are what ordinary people commonly crave, yet these pale in comparison to self-cultivation. True sages (those who have achieved Daoist cultivation) eat merely to nourish their Qi (vital energy) and satisfy hunger, dress only for modesty and warmth, knowing when to stop. They neither covet excess nor accumulate excessive possessions. Their eyes avoid distracting sights, their ears shun clamorous sounds, their mouths refrain from unnecessary speech, and their minds harbor no frivolous worries. Abandoning petty cleverness to return to original simplicity, they allow their Shen (spirit) to rest, eliminating cunning intentions. By maintaining neither particular preferences nor aversions, they attain the state of "Great Penetration."

To cleanse impurities and cast off burdens, the supreme method is to never stray from the fundamental Dao. Those who understand the way of nurturing life cannot be tempted by profit; those who comprehend the principle of internal-external correspondence cannot be deluded by power. The highest realm transcends external matters, while the most precious state returns to inner essence. Those who grasp this ultimate realm succeed in all endeavors.

Daoist cultivation values steadfastness—through steadfastness comes accomplishment. The mind-heart prizes equilibrium—through equilibrium comes stability. The power and wealth ordinary people crave precisely cause mental imbalance; these cannot be the Dao worth upholding. Thus sages eat only to satiate hunger, dress only for covering, accumulating without greedy thoughts. Thereby they maintain mental serenity and stable Qi, preventing their Shen from scattering outward, aligning with the eternal Dao. This is the state of "Maintaining Equilibrium."

Ancient Daoist practitioners harmonized their dispositions, cultivated their heart-mind, preserved unity, and remained content with sufficiency. They delighted in cultivation until forgetting poverty, abided in De (virtue) until forgetting hardship. Their original nature lacked desire, so nothing was beyond attainment; their inner being held no attachments, so nothing was beyond doing. What harmed not their nature couldn't impair their De; what benefited not their life couldn't disturb their harmony. They restrained their bodies from reckless action, instead following cosmic principles—thus becoming models for all under heaven. They ate according to appetite, dressed according to form, dwelt in spaces merely adequate, and acted in accordance with their innate disposition. Possessing all under heaven yet claiming no ownership, facing myriad things yet coveting no gain—how could such people lose their original nature due to wealth or poverty? Only those who achieve this can be called true comprehenders of the Great Dao.

From worldly perspective, seemingly easy matters often conceal difficulty. Yet from the Daoist view, this isn't so. Ancient practitioners first regulated their heart-mind and transformed themselves before acting; first stabilized their intention before engaging. They delighted in cultivation, abided in constant principles, and avoided attempting the impossible. Thus their conduct followed measure, their comportment served as exemplar—acting with serene assurance. This is the state of "Maintaining Ease."

Laozi said that humans receive their vital energy (Qi) from Heaven and Earth, just as ears and eyes perceive sounds and colors, noses and mouths distinguish fragrances and odors, and skin senses warmth and cold—these sensory experiences share the same essential nature. Yet some perish because of them while others thrive; some become noble persons while others degenerate into petty individuals—the difference lies in how these instincts are regulated.

The Shen (spirit) is the source of wisdom—when the spirit is clear and tranquil, wisdom shines brightly. Wisdom is the treasury of the heart-mind—when wisdom is impartial, the mind attains peace. People would never use turbid water as a mirror, preferring instead clear and placid water, for only clarity can reflect truth. Thus, those with clear spirits and balanced intentions can accurately perceive the essence of things. Those who truly know how to use wisdom understand the necessity of timely detachment (Wuwei, non-action). Like a polished mirror free from dust, a purified spirit remains unclouded by desires. When the heart-mind is focused, the spirit naturally concentrates; when returning to emptiness and stillness, restlessness dissipates. This is the cultivated state of sages.

Those who govern the world must comprehend the true nature of life (Xingming) to be worthy of their role. Just as clear water reflects objects, a clear spirit comprehends the Dao. Though all people are born with the same vital energy, whether they attain enlightenment depends on the purity of their heart-mind. The sage's mind resembles still water—reflecting what comes and returning to stillness when it departs, never clinging. Maintaining this mirror-like clarity undisturbed is the state of "guarding purity."

True sages simply follow natural needs: eating according to appetite, clothing according to form, restraining their desires so greed cannot arise. Those capable of governing the world never claim it as personal property; those who attain renown never achieve it through opportunism. Those who truly understand life's essence naturally embody benevolence and righteousness. When the spirit is unobscured, the heart unburdened, perception unobstructed, and action effortless (Wuwei), neither power nor profit can tempt, sensual pleasures cannot confuse, eloquence cannot sway, stratagems cannot influence, nor might intimidate—this is the state of the Zhenren (Perfected Person).

That which creates life is not bound by life and death; that which transforms myriad things is not constrained by change. Those who fail to comprehend this principle—even if their wisdom could command Heaven and Earth, their insight rival the sun and moon, their rhetoric unravel complex knots, or their writings carve metal and stone—will contribute nothing to governing the world. Therefore, sages eternally hold to the fundamental Dao: following natural law, preserving innate purity, responding to the needs of the age, and comprehending the hearts of the people. Only by never violating the nature of all things can one attain the supreme state of spiritual concentration and bodily freedom.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) presents the core Daoist methods for self-cultivation, focusing on three essential practices: "guarding authenticity" (shou zhen), "guarding stillness" (shou jing), and "guarding the law" (shou fa).

The section on "guarding authenticity" describes maintaining the pure and genuine state of one's inner being. When a person remains undisturbed by external things, achieving inner stability and harmony, their true nature manifests spontaneously. In this state, blood vessels remain unobstructed, the five viscera retain no turbid Qi (vital energy), and neither misfortune nor fortune from the outside world can disturb the spirit (Shen). Just as eyes focused on minute details cannot hear thunderclaps, or ears absorbed in music fail to see towering mountains, excessive attention to trivial matters makes one forget the fundamental truth.

The discussion of "guarding stillness" employs the metaphor of still water in a basin: undisturbed clear water perfectly reflects eyebrows, but the slightest agitation clouds it. Human consciousness operates similarly—difficult to maintain in clarity yet easily disturbed. The movement of heaven and earth follows the principle of natural Wuwei (non-action), and sages govern by emulating this silent Dao. The moment deliberate action arises, it disrupts natural patterns, throwing what should be tranquil into chaos. True stillness does not pursue extraordinary transformations but aligns with nature’s flow.

"Guarding the law" distinguishes three levels of governance: the highest emulates the Dao of heaven (natural law), the next esteems worthy individuals, and the lowest relies on ministers. Dependency on ministers invites peril; admiration of worthiness may breed confusion. Only by following the empty, still Dao of nature can lasting peace be achieved. This emptiness appears inactive yet contains all things; its softness seems yielding but proves enduringly firm. As with governing a state, so with self-cultivation—without principles, the spirit scatters; without laws, the people suffer. What truly matters is comprehending the root of the great Dao.

In the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Laozi states that emperors and feudal lords regard the empire and states as their households, and all things as their possessions. With vast territories and abundant resources at their disposal, they easily become arrogant and overbearing. Large states readily use military force to bully smaller ones, while minor states insolently disrespect their superiors, their hearts filled with extravagant and inflated desires. This is like violent storms and torrential rains—such conditions cannot endure for long.

Therefore, the sage governs the world through the Dao, upholding the principle of Wuwei (non-action). They do not deplete the harmonious Qi (the balanced vital energy of Yin and Yang), willingly demonstrate humility and gentleness, proactively yield without claiming credit. Just as rivers and seas remain low to receive all tributaries, by not striving they accomplish great deeds; by not forcing, they become true rulers. Willing to be the "feminine" (symbolizing receptivity) of the world, they paradoxically attain wondrous longevity; understanding self-respect, they achieve noble status.

Possessing the authority of ten thousand chariots and ruling over all things as their achievement entails immense responsibility—one must never act recklessly. Recklessness leads to the loss of merit and reputation. The greatness of the Dao often manifests in subtle details, and the multitude of things is often governed by a few key factors. Thus, when the sage governs the world through the Dao, they always maintain an attitude of delicate subtlety—this is called "seeing the small" (focusing on minute details); they practice frugality and restraint—this is called "seeing the essential" (grasping the core). Only by perceiving the subtle can they accomplish great deeds; only by mastering the essential can they achieve perfection.

"Gentleness" is how the Dao operates—this is not cowardice but preserving the harmonious Qi (the balanced state of Yin and Yang). The emperor regards the world as his household, the feudal lords their states as theirs, seeing the people as themselves. They do not rely on power and status to dominate, nor use force to oppress the masses. If distant peoples do not submit, they cultivate civil virtue to transform them. Great achievements are built upon small accumulations; the multitude follows the guidance of a few sages. Acting in this way causes no harm, and the world naturally attains peace—this is the true meaning of "preserving gentleness."

Heaven's law always suppresses the high and elevates the low, reducing excess to supplement deficiency. Rivers and seas willingly occupy low-lying places (symbolizing insufficiency), so all streams of the world flow into and revere them. Therefore, the sage remains humble and serene, yielding and retiring—this is called "embracing the low" (willing to stay beneath); they are selfless and open-minded—this is called "embracing insufficiency" (aware of their inadequacy). Precisely because they stay low, they attain loftiness; because they recognize their insufficiency, they achieve virtue.

The arrogant cannot stand firm; the extravagant cannot endure; the tyrannical will perish; the self-satisfied will fail. Violent storms do not last a full day, and small streams overflow in an instant. Storms rely on forceful Qi, so they cannot persist; streams occupy forceful terrain, so their sources are quickly exhausted. Thus, the sage upholds the feminine Dao, eliminating arrogance and extravagance, daring not to contend aggressively. By preserving gentleness (the way of Yin), they establish vigor (the virtue of Yang); by avoiding arrogance, they endure long. Heaven's law reduces excess to supplement deficiency, despising complacency and favoring humility.

This scripture expounds the Daoist wisdom of "the soft and weak overcoming the hard and strong." Laozi uses natural phenomena to illustrate how things reverse upon reaching their extremes—just as the full moon wanes and the noonday sun declines.

Rulers who oppress people with tyranny resemble violent winds breaking trees—seemingly powerful yet ultimately unsustainable. Thus, sages maintain humility and gentleness. While human nature favors superiority and insatiable desire, ordinary people who indulge these tendencies seldom succeed. Sages emulate the Dao (the Way), accomplishing without contrived action and gaining without forceful pursuit.

The text mentions how the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (ancient sage-kings) used a warning vessel called the "tipping goblet" (Youzhi)—upright when half-full but overturning when filled—symbolizing how prosperity at its peak leads to decline. True wisdom thus embraces apparent foolishness to safeguard insight, frugality to preserve knowledge, reverence to protect courage, and humility to maintain prosperity. These five virtues were the ancient sage-kings' secret to sustaining their rule.

Laozi teaches that sages harmonize with Yin-Yang transformations while maintaining inner peace. Unmoved by external objects, they attain the supreme state of "no joy yet boundless joy." True happiness lies not in circumstances but self-cultivation. When one's inner awareness becomes penetrating, they transcend worldly emotions and realize the unity of all things. Hence scholars uphold steadfast conviction and women maintain chaste virtue—both rooted in this fundamental principle.

The passage concludes by noting how rigid blades break easily—a natural law. Those who understand this avoid bullying and aggression, thereby preventing calamity. Preserving softness ensures lasting self-preservation.

This passage expounds the core Daoist principles of self-cultivation, emphasizing that the harmonious unity of form (形), Qi (气), and spirit (神) constitutes the foundation of life nourishment.

Those who have truly attained the Dao (真人) embody complete alignment with the natural Way. They appear to possess yet seem empty, appear substantial yet seem void. They focus on inner refinement without deliberate pursuit of external display, their hearts pure like undyed silk, following nature's course and returning to primal simplicity. Such individuals preserve their authentic nature, nurture their spirit, and roam freely within the source of heaven and earth, transcending worldly dust to dwell in carefree spontaneity, never resorting to cunning stratagems.

The human body serves as the dwelling of life, Qi as its root, and spirit as its sovereign master. When any of these three falls out of balance, all suffer detriment. Those who take spirit as their guide naturally benefit their physical form, whereas those prioritizing the body ultimately harm their spirit. The avaricious and desire-ridden, obsessed with power and profit, chasing fame and status—though they may attain high positions through exceptional intellect—find their spirit increasingly depleted, sinking into obsession without return. When the body becomes closed and the heart resistant, connection with the Dao is severed, leading inevitably to confusion, forgetfulness, and loss of self.

Spirit, will, and Qi mechanisms grow robust and abundant in stillness but wane and age through agitation. Therefore, sages devote themselves to nurturing spirit, harmonizing Qi, and stabilizing form, floating and sinking in unison with the Dao. Thus they accord with the transformations of all things and respond to the changes of myriad phenomena.

Spirit relies on form for its abode, vital essence (精) depends on Qi for its fullness—these three mutually nourish one another without losing harmony, which constitutes the crux of life cultivation. Arrogance, aggression, and contentiousness exhaust vital essence and deplete spirit, manifesting ominous signs like forgetfulness that herald approaching demise. Hence sages soften their forms, harmonize their Qi, and internalize their spirit, thereby mastering the life-nourishing way of the "Nine Preservations."

The scripture ultimately reveals that those who aspire to sagehood can attain it through diligent practice. This is no empty saying but the tangible path of cultivation.

This scripture elucidates how perfected beings (zhenren, those who have attained the Dao) achieve unity with the Dao through inner cultivation. At its core, it describes how these sages maintain pristine clarity of mind, undisturbed by external phenomena, harmonizing with natural transformations while preserving fundamental principles.

Perfected beings maintain focused awareness, penetrating the essence of fortune and misfortune, their actions flowing with wuwei (non-action). They comprehend principles without deliberate study, perceive truth without physical sight, accomplish without striving, and discern without forced governance. Like light that naturally illuminates or shadows that naturally follow, they embody the Dao's rhythms completely.

These sages preserve the primordial simplicity of undifferentiated chaos, abiding in the most subtle realms. Dreamless in sleep, their wisdom manifests without display; formless in action, shapeless in stillness. They appear to exist yet seem absent, seemingly alive yet deathless. Moving freely through all dimensions, they command spirits and deities—for their shen (spirit) has merged with the Dao.

To keep the spirit unimpeded requires constant harmony with all things, day and night, synchronizing the inner world with celestial transformations. While the physical body decays, the spirit remains immutable. Using this unchanging essence to respond to infinite phenomena, they navigate countless changes without confusion. What transforms ultimately returns to emptiness; what endures shares the lifespan of heaven and earth.

The creative force itself is unborn, while created life emerges; the agent of change remains unchanged, while transformed phenomena shift. This is the realm where perfected beings wander—the pure domain of ultimate Dao.

Preserving original simplicity, these sages roam the root of creation, fully united with the great Dao. Their boundless awareness, free from self-attachment, embraces all existence. They laugh when others laugh, weep when others weep—flowing with endless changes while anchored to the source. The mutable returns to formlessness, yet contains constancy; the immutable shares heaven-earth's lifespan, yet generates perpetual renewal. The earlier "Nine Guardings" and later "Guarding Simplicity" ultimately describe the cyclical return from multiplicity to unity. This is called wandering with the Creator.