《太上感應篇》Vol. 20
About this page. The original text of 《太上感應篇》 Vol. 20 (Taiqing 太清部, 30 volumes) is shown in Classical Chinese as transmitted in the Kanripo (Kyoto University) edition. An English interpretation of the 8 passages on this page accompanies it: select a passage or press “Interpretation” to show it. All texts in English
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Source textInterpretation
This passage recounts two stories about prophetic dreams and concludes with philosophical reflections.
The first story tells of Li Zhiyang, who suffered from chronic illness in his youth. During the winter solstice of the Gengyin year, he dreamed of a resplendent Daoist temple with a jeweled dais where a golden-scaled dragon lay coiled. A Daoist priest with piercing eyes told him: "This is the Palace of Kang (celestial mansion corresponding to stars). The cosmos moves without cease—you should pay homage to this dragon. You will serve it in the future, and your illness shall be cured." Later, when Emperor Taizong of Song established Zhenzong as crown prince, Li Zhiyang was indeed appointed as the prince's advisor, fulfilling this dream prophecy.
The second story concerns Yang Li before his rise to prominence. While lodging at a Buddhist temple, he dreamed of entering an official compound where an ancient-robed attendant led him into a palace hall. There sat over thirty perfected beings (zhenren, realized Daoists) in royal attire holding ceremonial tablets. Yang saw a register of worldly names placed before the highest seat—with his own name prominently listed first. He later became secretary to Prince Xiang, realizing this prince was none other than the "Laihe Heavenly Worthy" from his dream.
The author reflects: How could such predestined bonds between emperors and teachers be mere coincidence? A minister should offer timely remonstrance, while enlightened rulers refrain from rash anger. Citing Deng Zhi's exemplary teaching methods and sincere mentorship, the text emphasizes that educators must instruct wholeheartedly regardless of students' attitudes or tuition gifts. This mirrors the imperial examination of 1076 under Emperor Shenzong, where selecting true talent was paramount.
The narratives illustrate Daoist conceptions of destiny (ming) and the subtle correspondences between celestial patterns and human affairs, while the commentary underscores Confucian-Daoist ideals of virtuous governance and pedagogy.
This passage tells two stories about the blessings that come from educating others, and explains why people should do good and accumulate virtue.
The first story concerns Deng Wan, a Northern Song official. His eldest son had become a Hanlin Academician and was standing in attendance before the palace hall. When the emperor called the name of his younger son, Deng Ji, Deng Wan stepped down from the hall to offer thanks. When the names of his two grandsons were called, he stepped down to offer thanks again. The emperor watched with a smile, and Lord Wang Gong (Wang Gongchen), standing nearby, praised him: “This is all the result of their father Deng Wan’s sincere guidance.”
The second story concerns Lord Wang Wenkang (Wang Yaochen). His father had been a village teacher, but after turning thirty he stopped charging tuition. He had a son late in life—Wenkang—and, because the family was poor, sent the boy to the Western Temple to be taught by its monks. They taught him to read and also provided him with financial support. The boy later passed the highest level of the examinations and held a succession of posts, including Privy Council Commissioner, Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs, Director of the Imperial Herds, Censor-in-Chief, Vice Minister of Works, and Deputy Chief Councillor. He eventually rose to become chief councillor. His two sons also distinguished themselves, and his grandsons Jinyan and Jinxing both became senior officials and associated with worthy men such as Shao Yong, known as Master Kangjie.
The passage draws this lesson: can the blessings earned by those who serve as teachers really be small? Most people in the world have little good fortune; the awakened are few, while the deluded are many. If one can find an opportunity to guide others, even a single word or sentence that helps someone understand can become a seed of goodness lasting through countless kalpas. Heaven will surely reward such conduct generously. Yan Junping, a Han dynasty recluse, attained the rank of an immortal by guiding people toward goodness; Ge Xuan, also known as Ge Xiaoxian, a Daoist practitioner of the Three Kingdoms period, was able to transcend the world because he often spoke words of goodness. Such blessings extend far beyond the prominence of one’s descendants.
Finally, the passage cites Confucius’s devotion when composing the Classic of Filial Piety. Each evening he would put on his formal robes, face the Northern Dipper, and bow reverently. Zengzi and the seventy-two disciples joined him in prayer. He did the same while composing the Spring and Autumn Annals. One day, he dreamed that black vapor descended straight from the Northern Dipper to the table before him. When he opened it, he found a subtle and profound teaching. This suggests that the deeper meanings of these two classics are connected with the Northern Dipper, whose star deity in Daoism presides over literary achievement.
Note: “Northern Pole” and “the Dipper” in the passage both refer to the Northern Dipper, which holds an important place in Daoism. “Worthy and upright” was a category used to select candidates for office beginning in the Han dynasty. “Academician of the Dragon Library” was a senior civil official title in the Song dynasty.
This scripture passage primarily discusses the importance of filial piety toward parents and the severe consequences of unfilial behavior.
The Great Lord of the Northern Dipper (a revered Daoist deity) holds authority over blessings, misfortunes, rewards, and punishments across the Three Realms (heaven, earth, and the underworld). What he bestows is fortune; what he withdraws is retribution for wrongdoing. Buddhist scriptures also record that the Buddha once told his disciple Ananda that even if one carried one’s parents on their shoulders and circled Mount Sumeru (a sacred mountain in Buddhist lore) millions of times, shedding blood until it reached their ankles, it would still not repay the kindness of a single day of nursing. The ten months of pregnancy, three years of breastfeeding, and the toil of raising and teaching a child—such parental grace is vaster than the heavens.
The scripture cites several examples of retribution for unfilial conduct: Zhang Yi repented daily to the heavens, but the underworld records still could not erase his youthful sins of glaring at and talking back to his father. Li Deng, who seized his elder brother’s land and even took the dispute to court, was warned by Celestial Master (Tianshi) Ye Jing that his blessings and rank had been stripped away—he ultimately died without achieving anything.
The passage concludes with a hymn emphasizing that even if parents have flaws, children should not resent them. Forcing claims on what does not rightfully belong to oneself will inevitably invite misfortune. Many in the world make this mistake, so it serves as a stern warning.
This scripture blends Buddhist and Daoist teachings on filial piety, illustrating the karmic consequences of unfilial behavior in this very life and stressing that respecting one’s parents is a fundamental aspect of spiritual cultivation. Concepts such as underworld records and the register of blessings reflect the Daoist ethical principle of "inherited retribution" (chengfu), where good and evil deeds carry consequences.
This passage recounts several parables about how celestial beings test human virtue.
The first story tells of Lü Dongbin (Master Lü) testing people at a medicine market. Carrying a large gourd filled with peck measures of rice mixed with one immortal elixir, he announced he would distribute them randomly. From dawn till dusk, all the rice was given away, yet no one received the elixir. Sighing at humanity's lack of blessedness, Lü placed the elixir beneath a withered tree, which miraculously revived the next day. This illustrates how most mortals remain ignorant—few cultivate virtue through good deeds, their karmic rewards too meager for transcendence, especially amidst worldly clamor where destined individuals are hard to find.
Several tales then demonstrate virtue's rewards: When Sun Tai bought a residence and heard an elderly woman lamenting her ancestral home's sale, he compassionately returned the property. Later, his descendant Sun Zhan attained the jinshi degree and high office. Zhong Shiheng offered farmland to Zhang Zhengyi for funeral arrangements, but the Zhang family steadfastly refused. When the court sought to reclaim these abandoned fields fifty years later, they were ultimately returned to the Zhong family. Liu Daoyuan (Imperial Archivist), though impoverished, never took undeserved possessions. When Sima Guang gifted him clothing, he reluctantly accepted but later returned the untouched garments upon reaching Yingchuan.
Finally, the account of Cao Xiugu stands out—as censor, he was demoted for urging the empress dowager to return governance to the emperor and died in office. Local officials and gentry pooled resources for his funeral rites. These narratives collectively reveal karma's workings, encouraging the accumulation of virtue through good deeds.
This passage recounts several cautionary tales about greed versus integrity, illustrating the principle of karmic retribution.
The first story tells of a family upholding ancient virtues. When their daughter came of age, she told her mother: "Our ancestors were renowned for their loyalty and moral fortitude. Now my father has died after being demoted for speaking truth to power. A noble person should never accept money during mourning—we must not tarnish our forebears' flawless virtue by taking these gifts." She wept but refused to thank the donors, steadfastly returning all offerings. Even when messengers pleaded, she wouldn't accept a single coin.
The second story describes the Daoist adept Tu Dingci dwelling in a stone chamber with 500,000 coins stored at home, warning his family never to take them improperly. On his deathbed, he confessed: "Throughout my life, I intentionally overpaid merchants, hoping they'd return the excess—I planned to reward such integrity from my savings. Yet until my dying day, not one person ever refused the extra payment. Truly, this world lacks virtuous souls!"
The author reflects: Even snails know that overburdening themselves leads to collapse—how much more should humans understand the perils of greed? The Dao of Heaven invariably diminishes the arrogant while benefiting the humble, just as overflowing water spills and dew-soaked robes must drip. The parable of Duke Yu (representing insatiable greed) shows how plunderers inevitably face retribution.
The third tale of underworld justice: Lu Mao seized his neighbor Liu Zhi's land by exploiting worm-eaten deeds that confused officials. Years after Mao's death, the monk Huaide encountered his shackled spirit suffering infernal punishment. Mao begged the monk to urge his family to return the land immediately. Though the family complied, Liu's descendants refused to accept it, leaving the plot abandoned forever. Another account tells of neighbors Yu Bing and Zhang Xian—after a fire, Zhang's ghost lamented to their fellow townsman Tang Fu how Yu had stolen his family's land years before.
These narratives collectively demonstrate how greed and usurpation invite calamity—whether through earthly punishment or posthumous damnation. The cyclical Dao of Heaven reduces excess to supplement deficiency—those insatiable will ultimately reap what they sow.
This scripture recounts a cautionary tale about retribution for forcibly seizing another's land:
A corrupt official, coveting a mere three feet of land, used his government position to unlawfully seize Zhang Xian's property through litigation. In the afterlife, he suffered severe punishment in the underworld and was compelled to send a message through intermediaries, begging his family to return the land. However, by this time Zhang Xian's son had relocated to Shanfu prefecture while the official's own son had wandered to Jianchang - separated by the boundary between yin and yang realms, communication became impossible. The tormented soul pleaded with the messenger to relay his desperate request for his son to immediately return the land, lest he remain eternally trapped in underworld punishment.
The text emphasizes a profound moral: those who use power to seize others' property will inevitably face karmic retribution. This mirrors the Han Dynasty parable of the "Puman" - an earthenware money jar that could only be filled but never opened. Corrupt officials hoard wealth obsessively, yet like the shattered jar, their ill-gotten gains ultimately come to nothing. The scripture cites Liu Chengxun as an example: while managing the Dechang Palace treasury, he embezzled extravagantly, maintaining a lavish lifestyle with hundreds of singing girls in his household. Yet all his stolen wealth eventually vanished like coins spilling from a broken Puman jar.
Through these historical accounts and parables, the scripture warns that violent seizure and insatiable greed ultimately bring self-destruction. As the concluding verse observes: petty men quarrel endlessly over trifling gains with narrow minds, while the enlightened perceive the world as open pathways. Those who enrich themselves through plunder will inevitably share the Puman's fate - left with neither wealth nor humanity, just like the shattered fragments of a broken jar.
This passage recounts several karmic retribution stories that admonish people to uphold integrity and avoid ill-gotten gains.
After the pacification of Jinling, there was a man who had grown wealthy through plundering. Emperor Taizu (referring to Zhao Kuangyin of the Song Dynasty) despised his character and granted him only a minor military post. In the end, the man died destitute and starving on the streets. This illustrates that wealth obtained through robbery cannot be enjoyed for long—let alone the retribution awaiting in the afterlife. A story recorded in Chengdu is even more thought-provoking: When the renowned statesman Wen Yanbo served in Chang’an, a buffalo at a dam suddenly spoke in human language, claiming to have once served in the same court as Wen for twenty years. Upon hearing this, Wen had the buffalo brought before him. The moment the animal saw him, it knelt and wept. Wen sighed, saying that this man had embezzled public funds in his past life and thus suffered such retribution. He then ordered the buffalo to be given extra fodder.
The passage concludes with a rhymed summary: Those who disregard propriety and righteousness may steal ten thousand measures of grain, seize gold in broad daylight, or hoard state treasures for themselves, yet it will never be enough. In the end, even their descendants’ lands and homes will be lost. Like crows flying overhead—who knows whose roof they will land on?—this implies that ill-gotten wealth will inevitably scatter.
The text then turns to the principles of governance: One should study the teachings of sages from youth, and as an official, cultivate moral character even more diligently. In court, one must be loyal and upright; in governing the people, impartial and incorruptible. Those who rise through deceit and cunning have twisted hearts—how could they be good officials? The Supreme Lord Laozi (Taishang Laojun) explicitly warns of this in the scriptures, and virtuous ministers throughout history have rejected such people. Truly indifferent to fame and wealth, their inner fulfillment naturally radiates noble virtue. They regard official positions as rust and money as dust—even if offered high rank and generous salaries, they would never compromise their principles.
Finally, the example of Li Chui is given: During the Mingdao era of Emperor Renzong of Song, Li served as the prefect of Jiangzhou. After resigning and returning to the capital, someone urged him to visit the prime minister, Ding Wei (Ding Yazhou), to seek a higher post. Li replied, "If I had wanted to flatter the powerful, I could have become a Hanlin Academician as early as the Qianxing era." This demonstrates that those of true integrity would rather remain without office than betray their principles.
Now that I have grown old, whenever I witness ministers behaving improperly, I always point out their faults to their faces. How could I possibly drift with the current, fawn upon those in power, or act according to others' whims just to seek promotion?
Here are stories of several upright officials: When Hou Shuxian first served as a county captain, banditry was rampant in his district. One day, sixteen robbers passed through his jurisdiction—he captured them all and personally escorted them to the prefectural office. The Kaifeng prefect Ji Xuan advised him: "I recognize your talents clearly. You ought to meet our judicial officer, and together we'll recommend you." Hou replied: "I came here on official business, and I'll return to my county after completing it. If I deliberately seek an audience to request recommendation, that would go against my principles." In the end, he never visited the judicial officer.
When Tan Shiji served as a proofreader in the Imperial Library, Cai Jing was in power, with his son Cai You overseeing the compilation bureau. Sycophants who curried favor received rapid promotions, yet Tan devoted himself solely to editing texts, content with his duties. For six years, he never received a single promotion.
While Di Mi served in Hezhong, eunuchs frequently passed through. One powerful figure attempted to recruit him, but Di deliberately changed the subject. Later, he told his relatives: "I was but a poor scholar from Xiangtan. Now that I've risen to an attendant's position in my later years, how could I cling to the powerful for advancement?" He promptly declined the offer.
Alas! These gentlemen were so indifferent to fame and gain, yet they still attained important positions. Must one really rely on crafty schemes to succeed?
The eulogy states:
Position and reputation are ordained by Heaven. Only those with virtue and ability can live up to their reputations. The way of a minister lies in fairness, integrity, loyalty, and simplicity. Though Liu Ye was cunning, he died in anxiety and fear; though Ding Wei was artful, he was ultimately banished.
(Through these historical accounts, this passage illustrates the Daoist concept of "Supreme Response" (Taishang Ganying): One should maintain moral integrity without currying favor, and Heaven will naturally provide due recompense. Those who gain through flattery and deceit ultimately reap misfortune.)
Source text: Kanripo 漢籍リポジトリ(KR5f0001); Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0 · Report an error / feedback