《太上感應篇》Vol. 21

This scripture passage recounts a story about the importance of impartial rewards and punishments, illustrating the principle of karmic retribution.

The protagonist, Old Man Wang, harbored lifelong resentment toward unfair rewards and punishments. Known for his exceptional courage, he often raged against injustices within military ranks. Whenever hearing of demonic disturbances, he would gnash his teeth, eager to eradicate them. Later, learning of the potent efficacy of the True Lord Yisheng (a revered Daoist deity), he devotedly offered incense daily, prostrating morning and night in prayer. He expressed his refusal to accept worldly inequities and wished to serve the True Lord after death. The deity granted his request.

Several years after Wang's passing, during a Zhaijiao (Daoist purification ritual) in the temple, attendees suddenly heard a voice from empty air. When priests inquired who spoke, the voice identified itself as Old Man Wang—now accepted by the True Lord to oversee the Iron Wheel, ranking below four generals. He requested remembrance in future rituals.

This story demonstrates the deities' meticulous discernment regarding worldly justice. Rewards encourage merit, while punishments deter wrongdoing. When Laozi (the Supreme Venerable Sovereign) codified this principle in scripture, the True Lord's acceptance of Wang embodied this very truth.

Another example follows: During the Liu Gan campaign, soldiers competed to collect enemy heads for rewards. General Zhang Guaiya (Zhang Yong, styled Guaiya) observed that in fierce combat, no one had time to sever heads—these must have been taken postmortem, making authenticity unverifiable. Duan Lun confirmed that true vanguard troops bore grave injuries. This proves rewards must be just, not based solely on superficial results.

These accounts admonish future military leaders to emulate such discerning judgment in dispensing justice—where every deed, visible or hidden, receives its precise due.

This scripture elucidates profound Daoist principles concerning reward and punishment, as well as the temperance of desires, through several historical anecdotes.

The first recounts the story of Han Qi (Duke of Wei) governing his troops. After the Battle of Ganling, some soldiers nearly incited a mutiny while competing for rewards. As their commander, Han Qi strictly enforced military law, beheading the ringleaders as a warning while generously compensating the families of those who had died in battle. By balancing kindness with authority, he revitalized the army’s morale. This illustrates that rewards and punishments must be impartial and resolute, mirroring the natural law of the heavens—good deeds yield blessings, while evil invites retribution.

Next, the experiment conducted by Emperor Wu of Liang and the monk Zhigong demonstrates the importance of restraining desires. They had a condemned prisoner walk around a courtyard holding a full cup of water while music played, testing his focus. The prisoner, fearing execution if he spilled a drop, heard nothing of the music. The Chan master used this to warn that when one maintains reverence and caution, they naturally avoid indulgence in pleasure.

The Chan master Huiyuan once told Zhang Mi: "Adversity can be endured with patience, but prosperity is far harder to handle." Like a magnet attracting iron, people in favorable circumstances unknowingly succumb to the temptations of pleasure. During the Song Dynasty, Jiang Xilu, while serving as an official in Chengdu, was criticized for favoring the courtesan Chen Fengyi. Later, when Wen Yanbo (Duke of Lu) assumed the post, though surrounded by singing girls, he remained unmoved.

These stories collectively reveal how people in prosperity often lose vigilance and indulge in pleasure. Daoist cultivation particularly emphasizes maintaining reverence and tempering desires—especially in times of ease, one must be even more cautious. Like the man carrying a full cup of water, only by staying ever-attentive can one avoid transgression.

This passage recounts the life attitudes and principles of several historical figures, offering cautionary lessons about measured speech and restrained desires through contrasting examples.

First, it describes two officials' revelries. When someone casually remarked upon the graceful dancing of performer Yang, likening her to "the legendary Willow of Yang Terrace," the comment reached the emperor's ears and triggered an investigation. This shows how even in leisurely settings, careless words can bring trouble—if high-ranking officials aren't immune, how much more vulnerable are ordinary people?

Next, it presents models of frugality among virtuous men: Du Yan (posthumously titled Zhengxian) ate only a bowl of noodles or rice with soup at home, saying he remained fundamentally a poor scholar—his official rank and stipend being gifts from the state that would vanish with his position; Fan Zhongyan (posthumously titled Wenzheng) tallied each day's expenditures before bed, tormented by insomnia if he deemed them excessive; Lü Gongzhu (posthumously titled Shengong) maintained that fine clothes ill-suited scholars, as plain food and drink nurtured virtue; while Fu Bi (posthumously titled Zhenggong) lived by the maxim "guard your mouth like a sealed vase, fortify your will like a city wall." With such exemplars of restraint, how could one indulge in wanton pleasures?

A eulogistic summary follows: Yu the Great tamed floods riding a crude sled; Tao Kan (renowned Eastern Jin statesman) carried bricks daily to temper his resolve; King Zhuang of Chu practiced constant self-reflection; the I Ching advises perpetual vigilance. These sages treasured time like precious jade—how then can we idly chase comfort?

Finally, dire consequences of mistreating subordinates are shown: Wang Junkuang's father, an official who never abused punishments, saw all eight sons attain office, with Junkuang becoming a national exemplar. Conversely, Yuan Lang's mother routinely beat maidservants and suffered infernal torment after death. Even worse cases include assaults on pregnant women, where unborn children endured suffering first. These stand as manifest proofs of karmic retribution.

To harm others and cause them to lose their descendants—is this not a grave sin? Alas, they fail to comprehend this truth. When I wish for someone to be childless, they unexpectedly gain offspring—such is the law of karma. If I forcibly demand an outcome, can it truly be obtained? If I insist on cutting off another's lineage, will it truly come to pass? Moreover, the continuation of family lineage is a matter of great importance; its granting or denial lies in the hands of Heaven, for the Creator has his own profound designs.

There was once a renowned diviner named Fei Xiaoxian. At that time, an official named Yang Shaoyan came seeking a divination. The hexagram revealed two women sharing one son. Startled, Yang confessed: "I am nearly fifty and childless, so I took a concubine. Now she is with child, yet unexpectedly, my principal wife is also pregnant. Could the divination be referring to this?" Fei Xiaoxian advised him to wait and see. Later, when the concubine went into labor at midnight with no one to assist, the principal wife personally delivered the child. After the concubine's child was born, the principal wife's belly also flattened. It turned out that while the concubine was destined to bear the child, the principal wife, unwilling to accept this, feigned pregnancy to satisfy her own desires. Such is the wondrous subtlety of the Creator's arrangements!

The Buddhist sutras state: Those who dwell in wealth and high status, who take pleasure in whipping others and acting with unchecked cruelty, will after death fall into hell for millions of years, enduring unbearable suffering. Only after their karmic debt is repaid will they be reborn as water buffaloes, their noses pierced to pull carts, suffering endless whippings to atone for their past misdeeds. It is also said: Malignant sores on the body arise from whipping sentient beings in past lives. If this is so, how can officials and servants act harshly? How much more so toward a pregnant concubine? Buddhism warns thus, and Daoism cautions the same—how can we not take this as a solemn admonition?

Praise be this: From nobles to commoners, though their stations differ, their emotions are the same. Those frontier tribesmen and lowly servants also have their place within the rites. Are they not also someone's children? How compassionate Tao Yuanming was toward them!

As for terrifying others, the Sutra of Avalokiteshvara records: The Bodhisattva Guanyin can bestow fearlessness upon sentient beings in moments of terror and peril, thereby attaining perfect penetration—this is the foremost merit. Thus, all beings in the world honor Guanyin as the "Bestower of Fearlessness." If this is so, what of those who frighten others? Therefore, the noble person never does such things. Whenever encountering someone in fear, they strive to offer comfort. Alas, some fail to understand this principle and take pleasure in startling others—after death, they will be reborn as river deer. These creatures must hide from predators by day, startling at the slightest movement, and even hang their antlers on branches while sleeping.

This scripture expounds the principle of karmic retribution. Those who abuse their power to intimidate commoners for personal gain will inevitably reap the bitter fruits of their actions.

Consider Li Shunqing, who drove tenant farmer Zhang San to hang himself over unpaid rent, or Sun Jiming, whose relentless persecution of an erring maidservant caused her to drown herself. Though these deaths appear as suicides, they are in truth murders by proxy. As the Supreme Lord Laozi's Scripture on Karmic Cause and Effect (Yebao Yinyuan Jing) makes abundantly clear, such wicked deeds summon inevitable retribution.

Ancient virtuous officials understood how to help people live and work in peace, while some modern functionaries behave like ferocious deities, terrifying the populace. These tyrannical officials will ultimately bear the weight of their crimes. The scripture particularly emphasizes: administrators who constantly blame Heaven for their troubles will eventually suffer the consequences of their own complaints.

Two illustrative cases are given: Hu Ang, having repeatedly failed imperial examinations, drunkenly cursed Heaven—only to be struck dead by lightning; Jiao Junming, frustrated by career stagnation, complained against celestial will and later received a heavenly edict of warning. These examples demonstrate that imperfection is inherent in human affairs, and encountering adversity is natural. Complaining against Heaven and blaming others proves not only futile but actively invites calamity.

(Note: The "celestial script" mentioned refers to special writing used in heavenly courts. The Scripture on Karmic Cause and Effect is a Daoist classic expounding cause-and-effect retribution. "Supreme" refers to the Most High Lord Lao [Taishang Laojun], one of Daoism's supreme deities.)

A man once brought a celestial talisman (Fulu) to seek advice from a Daoist nun. She said, "This concerns celestial secrets—no further questions should be asked." Only after his persistent pleading did she reveal: accepting a bribe of five taels of gold would shorten one's lifespan by ten years; wrongfully killing an innocent would bring severe punishment after death. The man fell silent upon hearing this. This teaches us to constantly examine our own conduct rather than blame heaven and others.

The ancients said: King Chu sought divine divination yet suffered heaven’s wrath; Yuan Shao met disastrous defeat at the Battle of Guandu. Tian Feng was punished for speaking bluntly, while Zhuge Liang deeply reflected after his defeat at Qishan. Observing these outcomes, the wise and the foolish become clear. Those who speak recklessly against heaven and earth will reap what they sow.

Confucius once remarked: When encountering fierce winds or startling thunder, one must compose oneself—even rising at midnight to straighten one’s robes and sit upright, showing reverence for heaven and earth. How unlike the ignorant, who complain of too much rain in summer and curse the cold in winter. Few understand that wind is heaven’s messenger—eight winds correspond to the solar terms, through which Yin-Yang transforms and all things flourish. Thus, sage rulers governed by aligning with these winds: at the start of spring, the Tiáo wind brought pardons for minor offenses; at the spring equinox, the Míngshù wind signaled field boundaries repaired; at summer’s onset, the Qīngmíng wind prompted rewards for nobles; at the summer solstice, the Jǐng wind heralded honors for meritorious officials; at autumn’s arrival, the Liáng wind called for sacrifices to the four directions; at the autumn equinox, the Kuòhé wind meant musical instruments stored away; at winter’s beginning, the Bùzhōu wind urged fortifications built; and at the winter solstice, the Guǎngmò wind marked executions of grave criminals.

Rain, meanwhile, is governed by the River Earl (a water deity), clad in white robes and a black crown, astride a red-maned white horse, leading two divisions of rain masters: Left Luòqiān and Right Luòqiān, each with fifty thousand troops arrayed in the clouds. Rain falls in two forms: one crystallized like saltpeter, called "dry rain," the other ordinary rainwater drawn from earthly streams. The Supreme Dao Ancestor (Taishang Daojun) declared: Since the dawn of creation, I have been called Primordial Celestial Worthy (Yuanshi Tianzun) at times, and Void Sovereign (Xuhuang) at others.

This scripture recounts several parables about natural forces and human relationships, exhorting people to revere nature and practice forbearance.

The first part tells of Jiang Taigong (a founding minister of the Zhou Dynasty) who, while serving as magistrate of Guantan County, was so virtuous (De) that even wind and rain refrained from disturbing his domain. When the Dragon Princess of the East Sea journeyed to visit her parents, she dared not bring storms through Guantan out of respect for Taigong's virtue, weeping on the road instead. Only after Taigong left did the storms arrive. This illustrates that even deities revere those with De—how much more should ordinary people refrain from cursing wind and rain.

The second part draws from legends of Yao and Shun's era, showing that harmonious weather symbolizes peace and prosperity. When human affairs fall into disorder (neglecting one's duties), abnormal celestial phenomena arise. One should heed Heaven's warnings with reverence rather than constant complaint.

The third part emphasizes the importance of "forbearance." Citing teachings from Zengzi, Laozi (the Daodejing), and Buddhism, it reveals that non-contention represents the highest wisdom. The Zhang family of the Tang Dynasty maintained nine generations under one roof through a single principle: forbearance. When facing injustice, endurance prevents conflict. Once disputes escalate to lawsuits, the consequences range from imprisonment and torture to bodily harm, not to mention family distress and drained finances for bribes. Petty gains often incur hundredfold losses—even total ruin.

The core message admonishes: Reverence for natural law like the virtuous, and forbearance in human conflicts, lest small losses bring great harm. Through historical parables and stark consequences, it shows how forbearance is not merely virtue but wisdom for self-preservation.

This scripture discusses the harms of familial discord and litigation, along with the karmic rewards of resolving conflicts.

Those who fail in filial piety toward their parents, neglect their spouses, or are lax in disciplining their children often find themselves entangled in lawsuits, summoned and ordered about by officials. Even if they dwell in grand mansions, how can they truly live in peace? Though clad in warm clothes and well-fed, how can they savor true contentment? Alas, disputes escalate, and grudges deepen like wildfire, difficult to extinguish. Had they practiced forbearance from the start, such calamity would never have reached this point.

Of course, some lawsuits are unavoidable—this is simply human nature. But those who deliberately stir up trouble, inciting others to litigate for personal gain or selfish desires—I have yet to see one who does not bring ruin upon themselves and misfortune upon their descendants.

Here are two examples of conflict resolution: Almsgiving comes in two forms—material charity is a virtuous act in human affairs, while the gift of Dharma (spreading virtuous teachings) embodies great compassion. To resolve a dispute with a single word, restoring peace to both parties—this too is the gift of Dharma.

Long ago, Li Wujing once saw two beggars fighting in Zhuxian Town. One accused the other of refusing to repay hundreds of coins he had saved from a year of begging. Li Wujing stepped in and repaid the debt from his own pocket. As one beggar left, he said, "You live in Longhe Lane—come find me another day, and I will repay you." Later, when Li Wujing visited, the beggar offered him peaches. The two peaches he took home miraculously turned into purple gold.

Another tale tells of Cui Wei, who witnessed a wine-seller beating an old woman for knocking over a wine jar at Kaiyuan Temple. He removed his own robe to compensate for the loss. Later, the old woman met him again, claiming she could cure tumors, and gave Cui Wei... (the text breaks off, but the implication is that Cui Wei received unexpected blessings for his kindness.)

These stories illustrate how resolving others' conflicts yields unforeseen rewards. The scripture emphasizes the importance of forbearance, warning that those who incite litigation will reap what they sow, while peacemakers are destined for auspicious outcomes.

This passage tells several stories and sets out key principles of Daoist practice. It begins with a story about treating illness with moxibustion. Someone used a small amount of Jinggang mugwort to treat people, and a single treatment cured skin growths such as warts. Later, he treated a monk who had a wart on his ear, and the monk was cured at once. The monk introduced him to a wealthy merchant, whom he also cured with ease. His reputation soon spread, patients came in an endless stream, and he became wealthy. Some time later, an elderly man told him that the old woman who had taught him the treatment was in fact Bao Gu—the daughter of Bao Jing and wife of Ge Hong—who had practiced medicine in the South Sea region for many years. The story prompts a question: when we see people arguing, should we join the fight or step in to settle it?

The next section describes the twenty-four methods for gathering and disciplining the mind that the Most High Lord Lao taught Perfected Person Puji. Each method counters a particular harmful habit: compassion counters killing; sharing, theft; chastity, sexual misconduct; generosity, stinginess; a joyful heart, anger; wisdom and skillful means, ignorance; plainness, showy speech; honesty, lies; reciting scriptures, cruel words; praise, sowing discord; fasting, indulgence in alcohol and meat; expounding scriptures, slander; reverence, arrogance; gentleness, forcefulness; reflection on cause and effect, disbelief in retribution; the middle way, stubbornness; an equal mind, judging right and wrong; purity of mind, greed; contemplation of impermanence, attachment; Wuwei (non-action), contrivance; harmony, clinging to old ways; stillness and composure, agitation; freedom, sorrow; and a liberating heart, affliction.

The passage concludes that people’s harmful habits are difficult to abandon at once, so the Most High Lord Lao taught these methods to show them how to counter and transform such habits. Yet today some people recklessly form factions, and are bound to fall into errors such as showy speech, empty lies, and stirring up discord.

This passage examines the nature of political factions ("cliques") through historical anecdotes, emphasizing the need for rational discernment of their true character. Several illustrative examples are provided:

Fan Zhongyan (posthumously titled Duke Wenzheng) and Du Yan (Duke Zhengxian) were both labeled by contemporaries as members of the same faction. Yet when debating military strategy against the Khitan threat, Fan advocated for military action while Du opposed it—their disagreement grew so heated that they exchanged harsh words. Subsequent events proved Du's judgment correct when the Khitan failed to invade. This demonstrates how true gentlemen, even within the same faction, will maintain independent judgment on matters of national importance.

Sima Guang (style name Junshi) and Fan Zhen (style name Jingren) were the closest of friends, sharing identical political views to the extent they vowed to "share the same aspirations in life and the same historical legacy in death." Yet when debating musical temperament theory, they held irreconcilable positions throughout their lives. This shows that the agreement between gentlemen is principled rather than blindly conformist.

The author concludes that whether managing household affairs or state governance, one must maintain impartial judgment. We must not simplistically reject differing views by labeling them as "factional." True friendship between gentlemen is rooted in shared moral principles (Dao and De)—they distinguish right from wrong with clarity, and such "factions" should never be rejected outright.

The passage culminates in verse: "Judge words by their reasoning to discern right from wrong, assess differing views by their essence. The aloof and arrogant may lack true virtue—only those united in Dao are genuine gentlemen. Those who can distinguish righteousness from wickedness naturally understand which 'factions' deserve acceptance."