《通玄真經纘義》Vol. 5

This scripture primarily discusses the different levels of learning and Dao cultivation, as well as how to follow the laws of the celestial Dao.

Regarding the path of learning, the text identifies three levels of attainment: The highest level uses the spirit (Shen) to comprehend, allowing knowledge to penetrate one's very marrow; the middle level employs the heart-mind to apprehend, where learning remains at the muscular level; the lowest level relies merely on hearing, where understanding stays superficial. Without deep realization, knowledge remains incomplete, and practice cannot succeed. True listening requires inner purity, eliminating distractions to accumulate focused awareness—once realization dawns, one must firmly preserve it.

Human nature is interconnected with the Dao, with innate goodness manifesting as De (Virtue). Sages comprehend the celestial Dao without deliberate study, while ordinary people require teaching to awaken understanding. Just as a mirror needs polishing to reflect light, the moral virtues within human hearts must be revealed through learning. Cultivating oneself with this awakened awareness manifests De, while governing a state with it accomplishes great deeds.

The text illustrates the laws of celestial Dao through metaphors of tree growth and tower construction: towering trees begin as tiny sprouts, and hundred-foot platforms rise from foundational layers. Sages emulate the celestial Dao through seemingly passive behaviors—humility, yielding, frugality, and reduction—yet paradoxically attain nobility, precedence, expansiveness, and greatness. This precisely mirrors how the celestial Dao brings all things to fruition.

Finally, it addresses the relationship between "Qi" (formless energy) and "form" (tangible matter): Qi serves as the origin of all things—though soft and yielding, it generates solid forms. The Dao gives birth to all beings, while De nourishes them, transforming the minuscule into the magnificent. By emulating this principle and establishing fundamental practice, sages actualize the celestial Dao.

This passage elucidates the paramount importance and function of the Dao. The Dao is the source of De (Virtue/Power), the foundation of heaven, and the gateway to blessings—all things rely on it for growth, formation, and tranquility. The Dao itself operates through wuwei (non-action) and is formless. Internally, it cultivates body and mind; externally, it governs human affairs. Those who follow the Dao achieve meritorious deeds that rival heaven's majesty. Though seemingly inactive, it accomplishes all things. While its essence remains ultimately unfathomable, it contains verifiable principles.

Different social strata experience varying effects when practicing the Dao: when the Son of Heaven embodies the Dao, the realm submits; when lords and nobles follow it, the people live in harmony; when scholars and commoners adhere to it, they preserve themselves and their families. The powerful who practice the Dao conquer without battle; the weak who embrace it gain without contention. Between ruler and minister, parent and child, or common folk, the Dao fosters loyalty, kindness, compassion, filial piety, and mutual care. Conversely, abandoning the Dao leads to tyranny and cruelty.

The Dao's applicability spans all humanity—from emperors to peasants. Compliance brings success; defiance brings hardship. The depth of one's practice determines the reward: minor cultivation yields minor blessings, earnest practice brings greater fortune, while complete embodiment wins the world's allegiance. True sovereigns earn their title because all under heaven willingly submit. Yet even emperors cannot establish or maintain their rule without popular support or the Dao's guidance.

Those who defy the Dao often indulge in extravagance, arrogance, and aggression. Petty men bring ruin upon themselves; great men cause nations to fall—calamities ranging from personal downfall to generational curses. The gravest transgression is abandoning the Dao; the deepest resentment stems from losing De—this is heaven's constant principle.

Laozi teaches that genuine Dao practitioners remain unharmed even when attacked by the bravest warriors or cunning schemers. Yet should they grow prideful of such invulnerability, disgrace would follow. This illustrates that practicing the Dao emphasizes nurturing De and inner nature, not flaunting abilities.

This passage elucidates the fundamental principles of governing a nation and bringing peace to the land. Through the questions posed by Wenzi (a Daoist figure), Laozi expounds on the profound meanings of four essential qualities: De (Virtue/Power), humaneness, righteousness, and propriety.

The most enlightened rulership does not rely on military might to deter rebellion, but rather cultivates a state where people have no desire to rebel. Like the ancient sage Gengsangzi (a Daoist recluse), true governance transforms the people through virtuous influence. Authentic governance by De resembles heaven and earth nurturing all things selflessly, naturally attracting the people's allegiance.

Regarding the manifestations of these four qualities:

De is like heaven and earth nourishing all creatures without partiality; humaneness means maintaining humility regardless of status while practicing universal love without selfishness; righteousness entails the strong supporting the weak and the weak upholding moral integrity, adhering to principles through all circumstances; propriety involves dignified solemnity in superiors and respectful courtesy in subordinates, maintaining gentle conduct in all interactions.

These four qualities produce tangible effects: when rulers cultivate De, the people follow willingly; when benevolent governance is implemented, conflicts cease; when righteousness is upheld, society becomes just and orderly; when propriety is emphasized, people understand respect. When all four aspects are perfected, the nation naturally achieves stability.

The passage concludes by emphasizing that all things grow according to the Dao (natural law), develop through De (nourishment), receive care through humaneness, achieve fairness through righteousness, and gain dignity through propriety. Without nourishment there can be no growth, without compassion no fulfillment, without rectification no endurance, and without respect no honor. Thus De makes the people cherish their rulers, benevolent governance makes them nostalgic, righteousness commands their awe, and propriety earns their respect. These four constitute the sage's fundamental principles for governing the world.

Conversely, rulers without De provoke the people's resentment; without humaneness they incite conflict; without righteousness they foster cruelty; without propriety they create chaos. Failing to establish these four fundamental principles constitutes governance without the Dao—and no nation that abandons the Dao can avoid destruction.

This passage discusses the relationship between moral cultivation and governance. De (Virtue/Power) encompasses five fundamental qualities: benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness (collectively known as the Five Constants). Only those who possess these qualities can be considered virtuous individuals. Treating others with kindness is benevolence; handling affairs appropriately is righteousness; showing respect with proper etiquette is propriety; discerning right from wrong is wisdom; and being honest and keeping promises is trustworthiness. These five virtues are indispensable—a ruler lacking them cannot govern the nation effectively.

In an era where De flourishes, merchants conduct business peacefully, farmers till the land joyfully, officials fulfill their duties diligently, recluses devote themselves to Daoist practice, and the common people live in contentment. During such prosperous times, the winds and rains come seasonally, vegetation thrives, auspicious patterns appear in the Yellow River, and mysterious writings emerge from the Luo River. But in times of decline, excessive taxation becomes endless, wanton killing becomes routine, those who dare to remonstrate are executed, and the virtuous are persecuted. Then mountains crumble, rivers dry up, locust plagues rage, and fields lie barren. Thus, in well-governed times, fools cannot disrupt society, while in chaotic times, even sages cannot single-handedly avert disaster. The sage maintains a tranquil and peaceful mind, acting in accordance with the times to follow the Dao.

Heaven regards the people as a father regards his children—its care is impartial. The ruler is like Heaven’s eldest son, while the common people are its younger children. If those in power show no compassion for the masses, Heaven will inevitably send warnings. In prosperous eras, benevolence extends to all things, and the people live in peace; in times of disorder, tyranny disrupts harmony, provoking Heaven’s wrath, causing earthquakes and frequent calamities, and forcing the people into exile. Only the sage can preserve inner serenity, seize the opportune moment to act in accordance with the Dao, and ensure the flourishing of all things. This is what is meant by "as the times are, so are the people."

Wenzi asked what constitutes sageliness and wisdom. Laozi replied: "One who understands the essence of matters upon hearing them is a sage; one who perceives the truth upon seeing them is wise." Thus, the sage often foresees the roots of fortune and misfortune and chooses the right path, while the wise often anticipate the signs of fortune and misfortune and adjust their actions accordingly. The sage comprehends the patterns of auspicious and inauspicious movements in the Dao of Heaven, thus knowing the origins of fortune and misfortune; the wise discern the early signs of unfolding events, thus grasping their pivotal moments. To foresee what has not yet occurred is sageliness; to anticipate what has already taken shape is wisdom. Those who can neither foresee nor anticipate are foolish.

The sage does not claim innate knowledge but emphasizes learning through hearing—why is this? Because innate knowledge is a gift of nature, while knowledge acquired through hearing is the result of cultivation. The sage detects omens before calamities take form; the wise seizes the critical moment when fortune and misfortune manifest.

The Tongxuan Zhenjing Zuanyi expounds wisdom for both state governance and self-cultivation.

On Strategy and Governance:

The wise understand matters before they manifest, while the foolish remain deluded by appearances without self-awareness. A ruler who excessively relies on cunning schemes violates the natural order, acting according to personal whims. Managing complex affairs with limited wisdom is like trying to contain the ocean in a shallow bowl—doomed to fail. Over-pursuit of clever tactics leads to predicaments, reckless displays of bravery invite self-destruction, and indiscriminate generosity creates chaos in distribution. Heavy taxation breeds resentment among the people, and excessive rewards paradoxically foster ingratitude. Thus, governing a state cannot rely solely on material wealth but must follow the principles of the Dao (the Way).

On Governing Through Wuwei (Non-Action):

The ancient sage-kings ruled the world through the Dao, focusing on grasping the fundamental principle (zhiyi, "holding to the One") and aligning with natural spontaneity (wuwei, "non-action"). The world is like a precious vessel—it cannot be forcibly controlled. Only those who perceive subtle omens can accomplish great deeds, and only those who maintain inner stillness can become models for all under heaven. Occupying a high position, one should remain like a full vessel that does not overflow, preserving wealth and status without arrogance. Only then can prosperity endure, authority remain stable, and blessings extend to descendants. This was the governance of the ancient sage-kings.

On Social Order:

The people require shared moral principles and laws. Moral teachings alone cannot sustain order, nor can brute force truly restrain behavior—hence the need for rulers to unify governance. When a ruler holds to fundamental principles, the state thrives; frequent policy changes bring chaos. A ruler's duty lies not in arbitrary action but in knowing what should not be done.

(Note: Zhiyi refers to grasping the fundamental principle; wuwei is a core Daoist concept meaning acting in accordance with nature rather than forcing outcomes; daqi, the "great vessel," symbolizes state power.)

This scripture elucidates the fundamental principle of "One" (the root principle of the Dao) in governing a state and employing military force, along with the moral attributes and outcomes of different approaches to warfare.

The truly wise do not use virtue (De) as a mere instrument, the courageous do not abuse military might, and the benevolent do not wield their position to dispense favors—only then do they align with the principle of "One." "One" is the omnipresent ultimate law, the foundation of all things. If a ruler frequently alters decrees or if a state frequently changes rulers, people will exploit their positions to serve personal whims, and subordinates will be trapped in endless fear, making governance impossible. When a ruler loses the standard of "One," the resulting chaos is worse than having no ruler at all. Only by grasping the principle of "One" can a ruler lead the masses. No matter how vast the world, a ruler who employs "One" can unify it; a ruler who upholds "One" ensures the Dao operates without forced action (Wuwei), and the people naturally follow. Laws need not be constantly revised—people will abide by them naturally. Wisdom is not used for moral coercion, strength is not used for violence, and kindness is not used for dispensing favors. Integrating these into "One" is the ruler's true art of governance.

Wenzi (a Daoist figure) asked Laozi: "How many kinds of kingly rule (Wang Dao) are there?" Laozi replied: "Only one." Wenzi pressed further: "In ancient times, some ruled through the Dao, while others dominated through military force—why say there is only one?" Laozi explained: Governing through the Dao relies on virtue (De), and ruling through military force also relies on virtue. There are five types of military action: war waged to punish tyranny and rescue the weak is "righteous warfare" (Yi Bing); war fought in self-defense is "responsive warfare" (Ying Bing); war sparked by petty disputes is "wrathful warfare" (Fen Bing); war driven by greed for another's land or wealth is "avaricious warfare" (Tan Bing); and war waged to flaunt national strength is "arrogant warfare" (Jiao Bing). Righteous warfare leads to kingly rule, responsive warfare achieves victory, wrathful warfare ends in defeat, avaricious warfare brings ruin, and arrogant warfare ensures destruction—this is the law of heaven (Tian Dao).

The Dao is the foundation of governance; only by employing the Dao can a ruler achieve kingly rule. When the foundation is lost, chaos arises, and warfare follows. In ancient times, some ruled through the Dao, while others dominated through military force—though they appear different, both ultimately rely on virtue. Among the five types of warfare, only righteous warfare can lead to kingly rule, proving that even military force must align with the Dao. Hence, there is "only one." Responsive warfare brings victory, wrathful warfare invites defeat, avaricious warfare leads to ruin, and arrogant warfare ensures destruction—these are phenomena of the Warring States period, not the outcomes befitting a true king's military.

Laozi concludes: To abandon the Dao and rely on cunning is perilous; to discard natural laws (Shu Li) and depend on talent leads to hardship. Therefore, one should abide by one's inherent nature and follow heavenly principle (Tian Li), neither grieving over loss nor rejoicing in gain. Success is not achieved through force, nor is attainment sought through deliberate pursuit. In receiving, one accepts without demanding; in giving, one bestows without stinginess.

This passage expounds the Daoist philosophy of following nature's course and governing through wuwei (non-action).

The first section illustrates how the true Dao operates as naturally as seasonal changes. Spring nurtures growth while autumn brings withering, yet creatures neither feel gratitude nor resentment. Governing a state requires aligning with temporal rhythms - forcing strategies while abandoning natural laws invites crisis. Maintain fundamental integrity by following celestial principles: neither exulting in gain nor lamenting loss. Receive external things without coercion, give without calculation - this approaches the Great Dao.

The second part presents a dialogue between Wenzi and Laozi on statecraft. Using rivers and seas as metaphors, Laozi explains how their humble position below enables them to receive all tributaries. Similarly, rulers must embrace humility and inclusiveness to win popular support. Specifically: speak modestly, yield advantages, practice benevolence without harshness. Thus people feel no oppression, all under heaven willingly submit, even plants and insects joyfully follow.

The third section emphasizes adapting governance to changing times. Clinging to ancient statutes to negate contemporary customs resembles tuning a zither by gluing its pegs - utterly absurd. Sages flexibly adjust according to circumstances, recognizing different eras demand different approaches. Ancient emperors established varying institutions not willfully, but responding to temporal needs. Therefore, rather than copying ready-made systems, we should study their underlying principles. The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors disregarded power, equated life and death, befriended the Dao, and educated the masses. Today, rigidly adhering to their legal texts without grasping their essence renders effective governance impossible.

Between heaven and earth flows the primordial Qi (vital energy), and the changing seasons follow their inevitable patterns—these are the natural laws of the Dao. The methods ancient rulers used to govern varied, appearing as human choices yet all conforming to the Dao's cyclical movement. Thus, one cannot rigidly adhere to the institutions of one era to rule later generations; policies must adapt to circumstances, responding to change as it arises. Just as one cannot wear summer clothes in winter or fur coats in summer, only those who comprehend the Dao's patterns can master this wisdom of governance.

Wenzi once asked Laozi about the art of ruling. Laozi replied: Guide the people with the Dao, nourish them with De (Virtue). Flaunt no talent, wield no force. Diminish desires and hold to purity; covet no gain, display no selfishness. Be upright yet never injurious, incorruptible but not harsh, neither arrogant nor boastful. Guided by the Dao, the people will gather; nourished by De, they will submit. Without flaunted talent, they remain content; without force, they preserve simplicity.

Not flaunting talent is wisdom in restraint; not wielding force is discipline in temperance. A ruler must gather the people's hearts like water flowing downward, win support through sincerity, preserve oneself through frugality, and never indulge in ease. Fail to humble yourself, and hearts will scatter; neglect to nourish, and rebellion will follow. Flaunt talent, and strife arises; wield force, and resentment brews. Scattered hearts weaken the state; rebellion strips rulers of authority; strife invites wrongdoing; resentment from below endangers those above. Avoid these four, and one approaches true statecraft.

The ancients governed through moral transformation; later generations ruled through martial achievement. Moral transformation yields obedient people and pure customs; martial rule breeds resentment and endless conflict. Thus, guiding with the Dao, nourishing with De, flaunting no talent, and wielding no force—this achieves the realm of Wuwei (non-action).

Laozi said: A ruler's words become models for subjects; the people's words become tools for rulers. The ruler's words are constant law; the people's words are adaptive measures. Only sages understand adaptive wisdom. To rigidly demand that every word be acted upon or every promise kept—like the man praised for testifying against his sheep-thieving father, or the woman who died keeping her pledge—who would value such acts? Thus, sages weigh right and wrong in judgment, bending or stretching without fixed standards. Praising the king in ritual yet grabbing a drowning father's hair—these are compelled by circumstance. "Adaptive measure" is wisdom unique to sages. To first defy convention yet later align with the Dao is to understand adaptation; to first follow convention yet later oppose the Dao is to misunderstand it. Those who misunderstand adaptation often turn good into ill.

When a ruler's words are adopted by subjects, this is the root of constant law; when the people's words are used by rulers, this is the function of adaptive measure.

This passage elucidates the principles of governing the world. The application of classical doctrines (referring to constant Dao) and adaptive strategies (referring to flexibility) must complement each other to properly handle various affairs. Only sages comprehend this truth—they speak with unwavering integrity, keep appointed times punctually, respond flexibly according to circumstances, and carefully assess appropriateness. Those who rigidly cling to the middle way without understanding adaptability cannot respond to changing times, like gluing the tuning pegs of a zither (a metaphor for stubborn inflexibility)—what was intended to pursue beauty instead turns ugly.

Wenzi (a disciple of Laozi) asked his teacher: "You often say that without De (Virtue/Power), one cannot govern the world. Yet some ancient rulers who inherited the throne lacked De but lived peacefully without incurring disasters—why is this?" Laozi replied: "From the Son of Heaven to commoners, all live, but the quality of life varies. The reason kingdoms fall and families perish is the absence of De. Those with De labor diligently day and night, ever vigilant against danger; those without De indulge desires and grow indolent—destruction may come at any moment. Had tyrants like Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang cultivated De, even sage rulers like Tang of Shang or Wu of Zhou couldn't have established their achievements."

The function of De lies in this: it enables mutual nourishment and shared growth, fostering affection and respect among people. Even dull-witted creatures (metaphor for ignorant beings) won't harm what they cherish. If all people under heaven embraced benevolence, how could disasters arise? Those unvirtuous rulers temporarily spared from calamity merely benefit from remnants of righteousness not yet fully extinguished. Yet even with lingering righteousness, feudal lords already despise their sovereign. When lords scorn their ruler, the court loses dignity, and decrees become unenforceable. Once righteousness completely vanishes, lords will rebel—the strong bully the weak, great states annex small ones, and people take up arms against each other. Then calamities and chaos follow, with destruction imminent—how could one expect to avoid disaster?

Ancient rulers who governed the world relied on righteousness when De declined; when righteousness also waned, wars and chaos erupted. With tyrants like Jie and Zhou, though their states hadn't yet fallen, feudal lords already harbored rebellious intentions—this shows De had been lost and righteousness was decaying. Thus Tang and Wu rose to overthrow them. Consider Kings You and Li of Zhou—compared to Jie and Zhou, they were merely fifty steps laughing at a hundred, yet still met their end when the Quanrong killed them at Mount Li. Feudal lords warred among themselves, strong states oppressed weak ones, the six states employed vertical and horizontal alliances (referring to the strategies of the Warring States period), ultimately perishing alongside the Zhou dynasty. Are these historical lessons not worthy of reflection?

Laozi further observed: When laws become intricate and punishments harsh, the people grow deceitful; when those above issue excessive decrees, those below resort to superficial compliance.

This passage expounds wisdom for governance and personal conduct. Regarding statecraft: if a ruler excessively pursues benevolence, it leads to rewarding the undeserving and pardoning the guilty; if overly strict with punishments, meritorious officials may be dismissed while innocents suffer牵连. The truly enlightened ruler should emulate heaven and earth's impartiality—neither forcing kindness nor滥用 penalties—thus earning genuine public respect.

Concerning judgments of right and wrong, there exist no absolute standards in this world. People invariably deem what they favor as "right" and what they dislike as "wrong." Laozi's metaphor "governing a great state is like cooking small fish" illustrates that statecraft resembles frying tiny fish—excessive flipping breaks them, emphasizing the key principle of non-interference.

Interpersonal wisdom同样 profound: forced flattery rings hollow even when technically correct, while maintaining distance with proper advice risks suspicion. Like running in rain, one gets drenched regardless. Those who comprehend the Dao (the Way) resemble cart axles—remaining stationary yet enabling wheels to travel miles. They don't刻意 pursue emptiness, yet naturally attain serene detachment—the highest form of worldly wisdom.

(Note: The phrase "governing a great state is like cooking small fish" from the Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) famously advocates governing through natural non-action (Wuwei). "Those comprehending the Dao resemble axles" uses mechanical imagery to depict adepts—transcendent yet functionally engaged.)

The Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery) presents teachings on governance and self-cultivation through multiple dimensions:

A sage who attains the Dao follows natural principles, maintaining inner emptiness and non-attachment. Their actions appear as wuwei (non-action), yet achieve optimal results. When people disregard universal principles and judge right/wrong through personal biases, proper social order and laws cannot be established. Only by rectifying oneself and upholding impartiality can one move as smoothly as carts on land or boats on water.

A state that frequently wages war—even with constant victories—will ultimately perish. Warfare exhausts the populace while victories inflate rulers' arrogance. An arrogant ruler indulges desires; an exhausted people breeds resentment. When both extremes emerge, the nation inevitably declines. Thus withdrawing after accomplishment aligns with heavenly Dao. Just as unchecked fire eventually burns its wielder, military force cannot guarantee perpetual triumph.

King Ping of Zhou asked Wenzi: "Can personal authority alone transform people in chaotic times?" Wenzi replied: "The power of Dao-De (the Way and its Virtue) can rectify decline and govern disorder—the key lies with the ruler. The ruler mirrors the people: when nobility values Dao-De, commoners practice humaneness. Accumulating virtue builds kingdoms; amassing resentment invites ruin, just as piled stones form mountains and gathered streams become seas. Rule through Dao-De summons celestial and spiritual aid, bringing phoenix and qilin auspices; rule without Dao makes one the world's calamity. Thus Yao and Shun thrived; Jie and Zhou fell." The king acknowledged this wisdom.

Through governance, warfare, and self-cultivation examples, the text consistently emphasizes Dao-De's fundamental role. It urges rulers to lead by example and accord with nature, rejecting militarism and willful interference.

Wenzi (a prominent Daoist figure) hailed from Suiyang, bordering the Bo region. Having studied extensively under Laozi, he attained profound mastery of Daoist teachings. When King Ping of Zhou sought his counsel on governance, Wenzi replied: "Accumulating De (Virtue/Power) leads to royal achievement, while harboring resentment invites destruction. Yao and Shun prospered through accumulated De, whereas Jie and Zhou perished through accumulated grievances." King Ping pledged to remember this teaching.

This episode suggests King Ping initially aspired to proper governance, yet why did he fail to cultivate De and resolve resentments? Instead, he trusted slanderers, suspected loyal ministers, and ultimately executed the Wu clan—precisely why Wenzi left Chu for Yue. Later, Wu Zixu (descendant of the Wu family) persuaded Wu State to attack Chu, resulting in the posthumous desecration of King Ping's corpse. This historical episode illustrates how rulers must resolve grievances—demonstrating the Daoist principle that "accumulated resentment brings ruin" and the imperative of cultivating De in governance.

(Note: The "Wu clan" refers to Wu She's family. His son Wu Zixu later led Wu troops to sack the Chu capital and exhume King Ping's corpse for posthumous flogging. This historical anecdote exemplifies the Daoist doctrine opposing grudges and advocating virtuous rule.)