The Essence of the Tao Te Ching
When Laozi was departing west through the Hangu Pass, the guard Yin Xi noticed a purple aura emanating from the east. Realizing that a sage was passing by, he waited there and stopped Laozi, thus leaving us with the Tao Te Ching.
To date, dozens of versions of the Tao Te Ching have been discovered, with well-known ones including those by Wang Bi, Heshang Gong, the Guodian Chu Bamboo Slips, the Mawangdui Versions A and B, Yan Zun, Fu Yi, the Tsinghua Han Bamboo Slips, and the Xiang’er Commentary.
Today, Laozi is widely regarded as China’s greatest philosopher. However, the separation between Daoism as a philosophy and Daoism as a religion has often limited interpretations of the Tao Te Ching to the philosophical realm. Many people claim that Laozi did not believe in spirits and that Daoism does not discuss spirits without having studied the Tao Te Ching carefully. Even within religious Daoist circles, many find it difficult to discern anything related to spiritual practice in the text, which is truly a pity.
If we open Chapter 60 of the Tao Te Ching, we can clearly see that Laozi did not avoid discussing or acknowledging spirits: “When the Dao is employed to rule the world, spirits lose their supernatural powers. It is not that they lose their supernatural powers, but that their powers do not harm people. It is not that their powers do not harm people, but that the sage also does not harm people.” This passage makes it clear: if one can align with the Dao, so-called spirits lose their mysterious power. It is not that they are no longer mysterious, but that their mystery no longer harms people, and thus people naturally no longer perceive it as mysterious.
The Tao Te Ching uses very straightforward language to convey many truths. Yet, in reality, many people regard it as profound and enigmatic. Throughout history, many commentaries have tried to make it as abstruse and mysterious as possible, ignoring Laozi’s own words in Chapter 70: “My words are very easy to understand and very easy to put into practice.” Of course, Laozi already knew this would be the outcome. Even after explaining, it remains that “the world does not understand and does not practice.” As he said: “When the highest type of men hear the Dao, they diligently practice it. When the average type of men hear the Dao, they half-believe and half-doubt it. When the lowest type of men hear the Dao, they laugh heartily at it. If they did not laugh, it would not be the Dao.” Why do they laugh? Because the lowest type of men believe that what you explain is nonsense and that their own understanding is correct. Just as many sects worship false gods and evil spirits, how many would admit that what they worship is false? Another example is the common saying: “Do good deeds without asking about the future.” This itself aligns with the Daoist idea of “acting without acting” (wuwei), but how many truly recognize this from the heart?
Laozi was a genuine practitioner. Many passages in the Tao Te Ching implicitly align with the principles of spiritual practice, and some even directly discuss cultivation. Laozi not only observed the material workings of the world but also the invisible forces behind them, such as primordial energy (yuanqi). From the very beginning, Laozi urges us to contemplate and dialectically engage with these two aspects: “Constantly without desire, one observes its mysteries; constantly with desire, one observes its manifestations. These two emerge together but differ in name. Their unity is called the mystery. Mystery upon mystery—the gateway to all wonders.” If certain chapters of the Tao Te Ching are not interpreted from the perspective of spiritual practice, it will only lead to ridicule. For example, Chapter 50 states: “I have heard that those who are skilled in preserving life travel on land without encountering rhinos or tigers, and enter a battlefield without needing armor or weapons. Rhinos find no place to thrust their horns, tigers no place to sink their claws, and weapons no place to pierce their blades. Why is this? Because they have no realm of death.” This describes a level achieved through profound virtue (de). Those unfamiliar with spiritual practice, reading this along with the earlier lines—“Out of life, one enters death. The companions of life are three in ten; the companions of death are three in ten; and those who, living, move toward the realm of death are also three in ten. Why is this? Because they cling to life too intensely”—naturally assume this is about health preservation. But if “shesheng” (preserving life) is interpreted as merely maintaining health, a problem arises: which health expert would dare to enter a tiger-infested forest to see if the tigers would eat him? In Chapter 55, Laozi says: “The bones are weak, the sinews are soft, yet the grip is firm.” “Firm grip” (wogu) is actually a hand gesture for concentrating the spirit. Simply put, it means making a fist with the four fingers enclosing the thumb. If we observe infants carefully, we see that this is their natural way of making a fist. When people faint from a sudden fall or injury, they often clench their fists and grit their teeth.
The Tao Te Ching explains the principles of heaven and earth in the simplest terms. In fact, the principles of heaven and earth are never complicated. Just as heaven and earth do not allow opportunism, spiritual practice—such as the cultivation of talismans and incantations—requires years of accumulated effort. Even the most basic incantations are not about receiving a spell and instantly vanquishing demons. Yet, in reality, people often prefer clever tricks and quick shortcuts. This is why Laozi said: “The great Dao is very smooth, but people prefer bypaths.” The great Dao is very even, but people are fond of shortcuts.
The Tao Te Ching teaches us not to cling to external things: “The five colors blind the eyes; the five tones deafen the ears; the five flavors dull the palate; racing and hunting madden the mind; rare goods hinder right action.” Thus, “the sage wears coarse cloth but carries jade within.” However, in reality, how many pursue music, beauty, fine food, and elegant clothing, even believing that they are pursuing the Dao? Many neglect their work, studies, and families in the process. What end result can they achieve? Laozi was unequivocal about this: “The court is very clean, but the fields are very weedy, and the granaries are very empty. They wear elegant clothes, carry sharp swords, indulge in fine food, and possess excess wealth. This is called robbery and extravagance. It is not the Dao!” Of course, later generations did not listen to him. For example, during the Wei-Jin period, extravagance prevailed. Scholars and nobles engaged in empty talk about mysteries without doing practical work. Men cared more about their appearance than women, or used the name of freedom to justify frivolity. This eventually led China from the heights of the Qin and Han dynasties into the turmoil of the Five Barbarians wreaking havoc.
Laozi, preceding the Hundred Schools of Thought, held a high position in the Zhou court. Unlike later philosophers who sought to assist rulers in achieving greatness, he chose to depart west through the Hangu Pass and retreat into the mountains. Yet, Laozi already knew the outcome. While passing through the state of Qin, he left the king with a startling prophecy: “Zhou was once united with Qin but separated. After five hundred years of separation, they will reunite. After seventeen years of reunion, a hegemon king will emerge.” Despite this miraculous prophetic ability, Laozi rarely used it. Instead, he warned in the Tao Te Ching: “Foreknowledge is the flowery embellishment of the Dao and the beginning of folly.” The ability to foresee the future is merely a superficial bloom of the Dao. To superstitiously believe in it is the beginning of foolishness. Many find this hard to understand because novels and dramas often portray Daoist masters as having foresight. In reality, divination techniques initially belonged to the Yin-Yang School, and Daoism originally opposed them. From a Daoist perspective, “my life is determined by myself, not by heaven.” One’s destiny should be in one’s own hands. Techniques like divination are the fruits, not the causes, of the Dao’s evolution. It is like seeing a tree lush and thriving and predicting that it will grow even more prosperous in five years. Or seeing a dying tree sprouting new buds and judging that it will continue to thrive. This is the display and prediction of numbers (shu). However, its growth depends on deep and widespread roots and fertile soil—this inner principle is the Dao. Whether you predict it or not, it will grow this way. You cannot make it grow better merely by adding branches and leaves. Thus, while Laozi acknowledged the marvel of divination, he did not want people to be deluded by its superficial allure.
The Tao Te Ching, as the name implies, discusses Dao (the Way) and De (virtue). What is Dao? When we search through the text for a nominal definition, we find none. The opening chapter tells us: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao.” The Dao that can be expressed in words is not the eternal Dao of heaven and earth. Laozi held Dao in the highest regard, stating: “Dao is the hidden depth of all things,” “There was something undifferentiated and yet complete, born before heaven and earth. Silent and void, it stands alone and does not change. It revolves without ceasing and may be considered the mother of heaven and earth.” “All things rely on it for life,” and “It clothes and nourishes all things. All things return to it.” Yet, as the person who understood Dao most deeply, Laozi said: “I do not know its name; I style it ‘Dao,’ and I give it the forced name ‘Great.’” Not only did he not know its name, but he also found it difficult to describe: “As a thing, Dao is elusive and vague. Vague and elusive, yet within it are forms. Elusive and vague, yet within it are things. Deep and obscure, yet within it is essence.” Not only did he fail to describe Dao clearly, but he also plainly told us: “Reversion is the movement of Dao.” The operation of Dao is contrary to convention, meaning it cannot be fully comprehended. So what should we do? Very simply: “Weakness is the function of Dao.” We need only “know the masculine but cling to the feminine,” “know the white but cling to the black,” and carefully maintain humility, lowliness, weakness, and softness. Then Dao will naturally be available to us.
The Tao Te Ching says: “All things reverence Dao and honor De.” “The reverence for Dao and the honor for De are not commanded but always natural.” Reverencing Dao and honoring De are not defined by anyone; they are the natural state of heaven and earth. So how should we proceed? First, you must be willing to move in this direction: “Those who engage with Dao become one with Dao; those who engage with De become one with De; those who engage with loss become one with loss. Those who are one with Dao, Dao is also pleased to gain them; those who are one with De, De is also pleased to gain them; those who are one with loss, loss is also pleased to gain them.” Where your heart goes, you may gain what it seeks. Then you must have De and be good. “The way of heaven has no favorites; it always sides with the good.” This goodness is not foolish kindness like releasing captive animals but rather: “dwell in good places, keep the heart deep and good, be kind in dealing with others, speak with good faith, govern with good order, handle affairs with good ability, act with good timing.” This requires residing humbly, being open-minded, treating others with kindness, keeping promises, governing well, succeeding in tasks, and acting at the right moment. These are high demands, requiring alignment from heart to action. You must deeply realize and recognize true goodness and hypocritical goodness, then take goodness as a life principle to achieve supreme goodness. What is the state of a sage? “The sage always has no fixed mind but takes the mind of the people as his mind.” This might be hard to understand at first, but it is simple when rephrased: “Be concerned before the people are concerned; rejoice after the people rejoice.” In the eyes of the sage, there is no personal gain or loss; they always care about the joys and sorrows of all people. “To the good, I am good; to the not good, I am also good.” Whether people are good or not, the sage wishes them well. “Always good at saving people, thus there are no discarded people; always good at saving things, thus there are no discarded things.” The sage does not wish to abandon any person or any thing. The sage wants everyone to be prosperous and everything to be used to its full potential.
Many who oppose Laozi claim that he advocated fooling the people. In fact, Laozi opposed not knowledge but cunning. In the common version of Chapter 3, Laozi says: “In the governance of the sage, he empties their minds, fills their bellies, weakens their ambitions, and strengthens their bones. He always keeps the people without knowledge and without desire, so that the clever dare not act.” However, in the Xiang’er version, it should be “enlighten their minds”—to enlighten the people’s wisdom, civilize their spirit, and strengthen their bodies. Only then can those who play with cunning be prevented from doing so. “Weaken their ambitions” means to weaken people’s contentious hearts and功利性 (utilitarian tendencies), similar to “acting without acting” (wei wuwei). It means people should act naturally, not for the sake of results or purposes. Laozi used many passages to teach people how to act, such as: “A tree too big to embrace grows from a tiny shoot; a nine-story tower rises from a heap of earth; a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” “Difficult tasks in the world must be handled through the easy; great tasks in the world must be handled through the small.” “Therefore, the sage never strives for greatness, thus he can achieve greatness.” “If you are as careful at the end as at the beginning, there will be no failure.” “The sage does not accumulate. The more he helps others, the more he possesses; the more he gives to others, the more he has.” The sage does not care about accumulating; the more he gives, the more he has and the richer he becomes. Laozi also used many passages to teach people dialectical thinking, essentially enlightening the people’s wisdom, such as: “Disaster is where fortune depends; fortune is where disaster lurks.” “The normal becomes the strange; the good becomes the evil.” “If you want to contract it, you must first expand it; if you want to weaken it, you must first strengthen it; if you want to abolish it, you must first promote it; if you want to take it, you must first give it.” “Being and non-being produce each other; difficult and easy complete each other; long and short contrast each other; high and low distinguish each other; sound and voice harmonize each other; front and back follow each other. This is constant.”
Another common misinterpretation is “wuwei” (non-action), which is taken to mean doing nothing. In the Tao Te Ching, wuwei is a state, a realm achieved through the philosophy of “assisting the naturalness of all things and not daring to act.” Therefore, except when referring to this state, “wuwei” in the Tao Te Ching always implies “action without action” (wuwei wubuwei). Chapter 81 clearly states: “The way of heaven is to benefit without harming; the way of humans is to act without contending.” The way of heaven benefits all things without harming them. The way of humans is to act in accordance with the way of heaven without contention.
Laozi’s Dao can cultivate the self and establish one’s destiny on a small scale, and govern the state and bring peace to the world on a large scale. “The people starve because those above consume too much in taxes. Therefore, they starve.” Look at every prosperous era in history—it always began with light taxes. “The people are difficult to govern because those above are too active. Therefore, they are difficult to govern.” When those above always want to stir up things, the result is often wasting resources and exhausting the people. If left to develop on their own, the people can create a prosperous era in just a few years. “The ancients who were skilled in the Dao did not use it to enlighten the people but to make them simple. The people are difficult to govern because they have too much knowledge. Thus, governing with knowledge is the curse of the state; not governing with knowledge is the blessing of the state.” Those skilled in the Dao did not display intelligence and scrutiny but showed simplicity and obscurity. The people are hard to govern because those above use too much cunning. Governing with cunning is harmful to the state; governing uprightly without cunning is a blessing to the state. Schemes and plots are for dealing with enemies and for military use: “Govern the state with correctness; use the army with surprise.” “I take no action, and the people transform themselves; I prefer quiet, and the people correct themselves; I do not interfere, and the people prosper themselves; I have no desires, and the people simplify themselves.” Laozi also deeply understood the difficulties of being a ruler: “To bear the disgrace of the state is to be the lord of the altar; to bear the misfortunes of the state is to be the king of the world.”
Laozi’s words are “insipid and flavorless. Looked at, they are not enough to be seen; listened to, they are not enough to be heard; yet used, they are inexhaustible.” Plain and unremarkable, they seem not worth praising when looked at and not splendid when listened to, yet when used, they are limitless. If we follow his guidance, we can “cultivate it in oneself, and De becomes genuine; cultivate it in the family, and De becomes abundant; cultivate it in the village, and De becomes enduring; cultivate it in the state, and De becomes prosperous; cultivate it in the world, and De becomes universal.”
