《抱朴子內篇》Vol. 1

The first chapter "Expounding the Mysterious" in the Inner Chapters of Baopuzi elucidates: The so-called "Mysterious" (referring to the cosmic origin and ultimate truth) is the progenitor of heaven, earth, and all things, the fundamental source of all phenomena. It is so profound as to be immeasurable, hence appearing subtle; so vast as to be boundless, hence called mysterious. It soars beyond the ninefold heavens and encompasses the eight directions of the world. Brighter than the sun and moon, swifter than lightning. At times it flashes like light and shadow, suddenly appearing and vanishing; at times it streaks across the night sky like a meteor; at times it ripples in the depths of an abyss; at times it drifts like clouds and mist.

It manifests as "existence" through concrete things and appears as "non-existence" in the stillness of emptiness. It can descend into the depths of the underworld and ascend to the heights above the North Star. Metal and stone cannot match its strength; clear dew cannot rival its softness. It is square without edges, round without compass. It comes without a trace and leaves without a shadow. The heavens are lofty because of it; the earth is vast because of it. Clouds flow because of it; rain falls because of it. It nurtures the primordial Qi (Yuanqi), shapes the Yin-Yang (Liangyi) of heaven and earth, inhales and exhales the primal energy (Taishi), and transforms all living beings.

Those who truly comprehend the "Mysterious Dao" attain eternal joy. Those who do not understand it may turn even a glance into a weapon of destruction, or a single word into a matter of national survival. Those towering pavilions overlooking clouds and rain, those palaces with carved beams and painted rafters, those silk curtains billowing like mist, those fine wines and delicacies passed around at banquets, the harmonious music and revelry—these sensual pleasures may seem delightful, but in truth, they impair hearing, damage vision, confuse the mind, and deplete vitality. Only by realizing the Mysterious Dao can one transcend these fleeting pleasures and attain true eternity.

This passage from the Baopuzi discusses the realms of Daoist cultivation and worldly wisdom. The essential meaning is: When joy reaches its peak, it inevitably turns to sorrow; when things become full, they must begin to decline—just as people always feel a sense of emptiness after a grand banquet. These are natural laws, as inevitable as shadows following form. Yet such external pleasures are merely temporary illusions, not true eternity.

Those who truly comprehend the "Mysterious Dao" (the highest truth of Daoism) attain the Dao within and preserve it without. When applying it, they do so with divine skill; when forgetting it, they merge completely with all things. Those who possess the Dao have noble spirits and need no authority; those who embody it are inwardly fulfilled and crave no treasures. The Dao is unfathomably profound—it can harness flowing light and fleeting shadows, traverse the four directions of heaven and earth, ascend to the highest realms, and descend to the deepest abysses, roaming freely through the boundless cosmos.

Those who reach this state can drink the "Nine Splendors" (the essence of sun and moon) amid the clouds, savor the "Six Qi" (the primordial energies of heaven and earth) within the rosy mists, and soar effortlessly through subtle realms. They tread upon rainbows and walk among the stars.

A lesser but still profound attainment is knowing contentment. The contented can retreat to mountain forests, withdrawing their brilliance like a dragon folding its wings, nurturing their vast, righteous Qi (vital energy) in humble surroundings. They would rather wear coarse hemp than envy embroidered robes of office; they prefer walking with a staff to coveting ornate carriages. Like hiding a luminous pearl deep in the mountains to spare it from carving, or letting dragon scales sink into the abyss to avoid harm.

Those who understand moderation forsake the splendor of court life, shunning the perils of officialdom. They chant freely among cliffs, viewing all things as dust. Beneath the shade of trees, they find joy, seeing vermilion gates as mere thatched huts. Tilling their fields, they treat scepters as worthless whips; drinking from springs and eating wild greens, they feel no less satisfied than at a feast. They rest in Wuwei (non-action), indifferent to rank, preserving their simple nature—free from desire and sorrow, united with heaven and earth.

This state seems dim yet is radiant, murky yet clear, slow yet swift, deficient yet abundant. How could those who truly attain the Dao abandon the purity of ritual offerings to labor like cooks? How could they discard compass and square only to injure their hands with crude toil?

This passage describes the transcendent state of genuine Dao cultivators. They remain unperturbed by trivial worldly matters, neither craving empty fame nor fearing public criticism. External material pleasures and considerations of gain and loss cannot shake their fundamental nature—no amount of wealth can tempt them, nor can the most terrifying threats coerce them.

Those worldly people who chase after fame and fortune are like using precious pearls to shoot down sparrows, licking sores to curry favor with the powerful, climbing rotten ropes to rob bird nests, or risking their lives to catch fish in raging currents. In the morning, they may boast of being honored guests, but by evening, they could become wandering ghosts. To those who have attained the Dao (De), such a frantic and grasping way of life is truly heartbreaking and pitiful.

Thus, the genuine Dao attainers (zhiren, "ultimate person") conceal their brilliance, much like a phoenix folding its resplendent feathers or a dragon hiding its horns and scales. They need not be as cautious as migratory birds carrying reeds to cross rivers, nor do they rely on winding caves for shelter. In every movement—whether looking up or down—they are at ease, neither arrogant nor fearful of heights. Such individuals transcend the mundane, and ordinary people can scarcely fathom their realm.