《太上感應篇》Vol. 11

This passage explains the principle that one should correct one’s mistakes through stories about several historical figures.

Yan Hui, Confucius’s most able disciple, was able to avoid repeating his mistakes. Confucius praised him because he corrected himself as soon as a mistaken thought arose. The passage stresses that making a mistake is not what is frightening; what is frightening is knowing you are wrong and failing to change. A true gentleman corrects his faults as soon as he discovers them.

The passage gives three examples. In his youth, the Northern Song chancellor Kou Zhun lived extravagantly. When his wet nurse reminded him that, after his mother died, he had not even been able to afford a bolt of silk for her, he immediately changed his ways and became frugal. Cai Qi, whose posthumous title was Wenzhong, loved wine; after a friend admonished him in a poem, he abstained from alcohol for the rest of his life. When Sima Guang was five, his father reprimanded him for lying, and from then on he treated others honestly throughout his life. The passage also recounts how Xu Ji, whose literary name was Jiexiao, understood that his heart should be upright when his teacher reminded him to “keep his head straight.”

The passage closes with the image of solar and lunar eclipses: just as the sun and moon shine again after being obscured, a person can regain clarity after making a mistake, provided they sincerely correct it. Making excuses and covering up one’s faults only compounds them.

(Note: “Grand Lady” refers to the mother; “she has left her hall” is a euphemism for death; “burial garments” refers to shrouds; “Master Anding” refers to the eminent Song scholar Hu Yuan; and “being selected at the head of the dragon” refers to achieving a high rank in the imperial examinations.)

The Taishang Ganying Jing (Treatise on Response and Retribution) emphasizes the vital importance of accumulating virtuous deeds. It states that human faults compound easily, while virtuous intentions are difficult to cultivate—hence the necessity of persistent practice in doing good. To recognize virtuous acts yet fail to perform them is itself a transgression.

The Perfected Being Who Responds to the World (a Daoist adept of high attainment) teaches that great De (Virtue/Power) is achieved by starting with small acts of goodness, and that accumulated droplets of kindness ultimately form vast reservoirs of blessings. The Yijing (Book of Changes) similarly states that families who accumulate goodness will have abundant blessings to spare. The essence of virtuous conduct lies in sustained accumulation: knowing requires acting, and acting demands wholehearted effort. Like nurturing a plant—though small at first, with continuous watering and care, it grows imperceptibly. Thus in daily life, one must never dismiss minor good deeds as insignificant.

The Primordial Lord (a Daoist female immortal) elaborates on the rewards of virtuous acts: performing one good deed brings peace to the heart and vitality to the body; ten deeds strengthen one’s Qi (vital energy); twenty ward off illness... As merits accumulate, blessings progress in stages—from personal health and fulfilled aspirations, to thriving descendants and deliverance from calamity, culminating in celestial protection and exalted status. Accumulating a thousand virtuous deeds enables one’s descendants to attain immortality; three thousand qualifies one as a state preceptor; five thousand grants command over spirits; until at ten thousand merits, one may reach the realm of the Jade Emperor (the supreme deity of Daoism).

The text concludes with the example of Li Fang, a Song Dynasty chancellor who devoted his life to practicing the Analects teaching: "Be frugal yet benevolent, and employ the people seasonally." Even then, he felt his efforts were insufficient—demonstrating that virtuous cultivation demands unrelenting dedication.

This scripture illustrates the principle of "retribution for good and evil" through stories of historical figures.

Yang Yingzhi, a scholar of the Northern Song Dynasty, would record virtuous teachings upon hearing them and practiced what he learned throughout his life. Top graduate Jia An learned the principle of "no deception" from Fan Zhongyan and upheld it all his days. Imperial censor Liu Anshi acquired the teaching of "utmost sincerity" from Sima Guang and remained steadfast in it. The scripture states that if everyone could follow such examples, accumulating virtuous deeds would become effortless.

A contrasting example follows: Though Duke Guo appreciated virtuous conduct, his state still perished because his admiration remained superficial and uncommitted. Therefore, gentlemen must maintain constant vigilance and continuous self-improvement.

Several karmic retribution stories then demonstrate how one's lifetime of good and evil manifests at death: After hearing a Daoist priest's prophecy, Zhao Pu realized his involvement in Prince Tingmei's death. When Wang Shao heard the ominous prophecy "eighteen cuts," he later died from back sores—both cases revealing their accumulated negative karma.

Two specific cases are detailed: Zhao Ye once participated in killing an ox; after death, his accomplice testified against him in the underworld, though a truth-revealing mirror ultimately exonerated him. The jealous Chang Shi murdered her husband's concubine; when her husband died and she remarried, this hinted at impending retribution.

These narratives collectively demonstrate how every evil deed becomes imprinted in one's heart (as "heart pearls" or "heart mirrors"), and all must face judgment before Yama in the afterlife. Hence we must guard against wicked thoughts while persisting in virtuous conduct, for good and evil inevitably bear their corresponding fruits.

This scripture recounts several karmic retribution stories that illustrate the Daoist concept of "reaping what one sows" regarding good and evil.

The first story tells of Mr. Chang who suffered retribution for accidental manslaughter. In a dazed state, he encountered the ghost of Mr. Ma whom he had mistakenly killed. The spirit declared: "I did indeed die because of you—why shift blame to others?" Eventually Chang fell incurably ill from this encounter. This narrative demonstrates how transgressions stem from one's own actions, and that evading responsibility cannot escape punishment.

The second episode occurs at Mount Tai Temple in Baisha Village near Guan Kou. A group of physicians and fortune-tellers looked down upon a poor man, who in anger threw himself into the river—only to reappear holding a dragon. The dragon admonished them: "The arts of healing and divination could help people approach the Dao (the Way); how much more should you show undivided compassion to the impoverished!" This reveals that specialized skills (like medicine and divination) are originally meant to aid the world and must not be disparaged.

The third account describes Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhai Qianyou attempting to calm fifteen dangerous rapids along Yun'an River using magical arts. Fourteen river deities complied, except one goddess wearing tall headdress and wide sleeves. She explained: "Your intention to ease boat navigation is commendable, Master, but three to four hundred poor families along these shores depend entirely on trackers' work for survival. If all rapids were tamed, they'd lose their livelihood." This teaches that applying esoteric arts must consider real people's circumstances, not merely pursue superficial convenience.

The conclusion emphasizes: Transgressions are self-incurred—only genuine repentance offers redemption. Those who refuse reflection while implicating others may temporarily evade consequences, but cosmic justice ultimately prevails. Moreover, obstructing legitimate arts (like impeding proper transmission of healing or divination skills) is particularly inadvisable, as these techniques inherently serve worldly benefit. The true path toward goodness lies in carefully weighing consequences and showing compassionate consideration for people's welfare.

This passage tells two stories and expresses Daoist ideas of “following nature” and “helping the world and benefiting people.”

The first story tells how the Supreme Lord Lao (the highest deity in Daoism) saw that the river shoals had been made too smooth, depriving ordinary people of ways to earn a living. The fifteen shoals had once been swift and treacherous, providing work for boatmen and towpath workers. Now, however, people struggled to make ends meet. When the Celestial Master (Tianshi), a senior Daoist ritual master, heard of their hardship, he agreed that their suffering had to be taken into account and ordered fourteen of the shoals restored to their former rugged state. That night, fierce winds and rain swept through the area. By the next morning, the fifteen shoals once again churned with crashing waves. The story shows how changing the patterns of nature through human intervention can instead cut off people’s livelihoods.

The second story describes the wisdom of Fan Zhongyan, who organized disaster relief in western Zhejiang during the Song dynasty. At the time, famine had struck the Liangzhe region. Knowing that local people were devoted to Buddhism, Fan arranged for temple abbots to launch major building projects, while the government also undertook various construction works. These projects met people’s religious needs and gave thousands of craftsmen and laborers a way to earn a living, preventing disaster victims from being driven from their homes.

The author concludes that even seemingly minor skills matter, and that learned people should also study practical arts. Medicine, divination, astronomy, and calendrical calculations—practical arts associated with Daoism—can all help people and serve society. Forcibly banning them would instead bring calamity. The passage also observes that although Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism differ in doctrine, their fundamental purpose is to guide people’s hearts and minds. Critics often slander Buddhist scriptures because they misunderstand the truth of “emptiness,” a central Buddhist idea that things have no inherent nature. In fact, the Buddha-nature of the Tathagata is like empty space: both open and subtle, yet truly present.

This passage reflects the Daoist principle that the Dao follows nature. It advocates respecting natural patterns while emphasizing the social value of practical skills, and opposes empty theorizing that neglects people’s livelihoods.

This scripture elucidates the varying stages of cultivation and enlightenment, as well as differences in individuals' spiritual capacities.

The text begins by stating that ordinary people, if they can relinquish all attachments and attain a mind as pure and empty as the void, may unite with the Buddha-nature (Tathāgata). It cites the famous saying of Layman Pang (an incarnation of Vimalakīrti)—"Empty all that exists, fill all that is absent"—to illustrate that the key to cultivation lies in letting go of attachments rather than forceful striving.

Two contrasting stories then highlight differences in spiritual aptitude:

1. Duke Du Qi, who initially disbelieved in Buddhism, suddenly attained profound realization upon reading the Śūraṅgama Sūtra and thereafter devoted himself to the Dharma.

2. The great scholar Xu Xuan, though ordered by the emperor to study the Śūraṅgama Sūtra for over ten days, failed to comprehend it at all, remarking that it was like pouring water from one vessel to another—yielding no gain.

The passage concludes with a verse of praise: Some refuse medicine for their illness (rejecting truth), though the teachings of sages can dispel countless delusions—yet people not only neglect to practice them but even slander them. Like Chen Jia's criticism of the Duke of Zhou or Shusun's defamation of Confucius, their words are as absurd as a lamb growing horns.

Finally, it references a parable from the Avataṃsaka Sūtra: Sudhana (the "Good Wealth" youth), in his pursuit of the Bodhisattva path, sought guidance from fifty-three spiritual mentors (realized practitioners). This demonstrates that the path requires broad learning, yet ultimate realization depends on one's innate capacity (spiritual roots). On the journey of cultivation, some awaken at a single word, while others remain unenlightened for life—such differences are natural.

This passage discusses the transformative role of "virtuous mentors" (those possessing moral integrity and wisdom) in enlightening others. It compares their guidance to someone suddenly piercing through the bottom of a pitch-black barrel, allowing light to flood in—such moments of awakening are never trivial matters. The essence of moral cultivation lies precisely in encountering such illuminating teachers. This principle holds true not only in Buddhism and Daoism but throughout history, where all renowned figures achieved greatness through inspiration from extraordinary individuals.

Numerous examples illustrate this point: Zhang Liang encountering the Yellow Stone Elder, Zhuge Liang meeting Pang Degong, Li Jing crossing paths with the Curly-Bearded Stranger, Yan Zhenqing learning from Zhang Zhihe, Li Bai receiving guidance from He Zhizhang, and Du Fu being inspired by Sima Chengzhen—all these historical figures attained remarkable accomplishments through such mentorship. The author poses a rhetorical question: Can we claim moral cultivation brings no benefits? How could anyone possibly disregard its value?

The text then recounts several enlightenment stories: Yin Zhu (Shilu), while demoted from office, was awakened by Dharma-Eye Chan Master's teaching of "withdrawing into stillness to forget dualities." Zhu Yan, after years of fruitlessly studying Buddhist scriptures, had an epiphany when Monk Yijiang asked, "Before this body dies, where does this mind abide?" Zeng Kai sought guidance from Chan Master Yuanwu, who used two Chan anecdotes to suddenly open his understanding. Even Ouyang Xiu, originally skeptical of Buddhist and Daoist teachings, experienced profound inspiration after befriending the recluse Xu Changling during his official post in Bozhou.

The passage concludes with a gatha (verse summary): The Dao and its Virtue (De) are most noble, forming the root of all things. Yet one must guard against two faults: jealousy toward the worthy, and lazy arrogance. Those who harbor inner dissatisfaction while displaying outward contempt remain mere mediocrities. Usurpation invites calamity; arrogance summons disaster. Though heaven and earth are vast, they show no leniency toward evildoers.