tao teh ching - closing matters

The main texts I've been using throughout the past couple of weeks are:

Gia-fu Feng and Jane English - Lao Tzu: Tao Teh Ching - A New Translation [WILWOOD HOUSE 1973]
D. C. Lau - Tao Te Ching [PENGUIN BOOKS 1963, 1969]
Robert G. Henricks - Lao Tzu: Te-Tao Ching [BALANTINE BOOKS 1989]
Richard John Lyn - Tao Te Ching: The Classic of the Way and Virtue [COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS 1999]
Man-jan Cheng - Lao-tzu: 'My Words are Very Easy to Understand' [NORTH ATLANTIC BOOKS 1981]

As we have seen, none of these can really stand alone, and the meaning in them, even for highly literate Chinese readers, is subtle, vast and difficult to grasp.
My own interpretation, whatever its worth, is based on the simple but verifiable fact that Taoism is - and has always been - very much a religion in the accepted sense of that term. It's present-day canon contains texts and practices covering pretty much the full gamut of Chinese thought and belief ranging from out and out shamanism through some of the most sublime flights of human philosophy, and even the 'humanism' and 'justice' that are generally thought of as the province of the Confucian school and its chief descendant, the teachings of Mencius are included in it.
Confucianists may look upon it askance, but much that is Chinese science, and certainly everything that is Chinese art, stems directly from it. It is, in fact, the very basis and root of Chinese thought - it's intuitive side, if you will, just as the humanist side is its facet of order and logic.
Many years ago I took up the use of two terms - 'eco'-logic and straight line logic - to try and describe the difference between these. Eco-logic follows nature... It watches and examines, feels and evaluates but is hesitant about coming to conclusions; straight line logic assumes that what it knows is reality and expects reality to fall in with its way of knowing. Eco-logic is careful; straight line logic builds what it imagines are empires but are actually only cloud cities. Eco-logic is caring and nurturing; straight line logic assumes things are solid and 'tough enough to take it'.

Other texts I've referred to are:

John C. H. Wu - Tao Teh Ching [SAINT JOHN'S UNIVERSITY 1961 & SHAMBALA PUBLICATIONS 1989 ]
Arthur Waley - The Way and its Power [GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN 1934, 1969]
Richard Wilhelm - Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching [PENGUIN ARKANA 1989]
Ursula Le Guin - Tao Te Ching: A Book About the Way and the Power of the Way [SHAMBALA PUBLICATIONS 1997]
James Legge - The Texts of Taoism, Vols I and II [DOVER PUBLICATIONS 1962]
Ellen M. Chen - The Tao Te Ching: A New Translation with Commentary [PARAGON HOUSE 1989]
Chang Chung-Yuan - Tao: A New Way of Thinking [HARPER COLOPHON 1975]
Thomas Cleary - The Essential Tao [HARPER COLLINS 1991]
D. T. Suzuki & Paul Carus - The Canon of Reason and Virtue: A Translation of Lao Tze's Tao Teh King [OPEN COURT 1913, 1974]

Other texts lying about are Aleister Crowley's Tao Teh King [ASKIN & WEISER 1974], Frank J. MacHovec's The Book of the Tao: Key to the Mastery of Life published by Peter Pauper Press in 1962, and Witter Bynner's The Way of Life according to Lao Tzu published by Capricorn Books in 1962.

Two further texts attributed to Lao-tze and translated into English are Wen Tzu: Understanding the Mysteries - Thomas Cleary transl. [SHAMBALA PUBLICATIONS 1991] and the Hua Hu Ching: The Later teachings of Lao Tzu translated by Hua-ching Ni [SHAMBALA PUBLICATIONS 1995].

tao teh ching 81

Truthful words are not beautiful.
Beautiful words are not truthful.
Good men do not argue.
Those who argue are not good[1].
Those who know are not learned.
The learned do not know.

The sage never tries to store things up.
The more he does for others, the more he has.
The more he gives to others, the greater his abundance.
The Tao of heaven is pointed but does no harm[2].
The Tao of the sage is to work without effort[3].

[1] Lau has, 'Good words are not persuasive; persuasive words are not good.'
[2] Lau has, '... benefits and does not harm.'
[3] Lau has, '... is bountiful and does not contend.'

The Ma wang tui text has significant differences, so I give it in full here:

Sincere words are not showy;
Showy words are not sincere.
Those who know are not 'widely learned';
Those who are 'widely learned' do not know.
The good do not possess a lot;
Those with a lot are not good.(*)

The Sage accumulates nothing.
Having used what he had for others,
He has even more.
Having given what he had to others,
What he has is even greater.
Therefore the Way of Heaven is to benefit and not cause any harm;
The Way of Man is to act on behalf of others and not to compete with them.

(*) These two lines literally say: 'The good are not many; the many are not good'. Henricks has changed the pu–to (not many) that is actually in the text to wu–to (not have much) in the belief that this makes a more logical reading. I am not so sure.

Wang Pi says:

Honesty consists in simplicity.
The basic is the uncarved block.
The ultimate consists in the One.
The sage keeps nothing as his own private property. Only someone this good can be as generous, for he does no less than leave others entirely to themselves.
(The more he does so), the more he is honoured and the more people are drawn to him.
The action of the Tao of Heaven is always to beget and to bring things to completion.
Because the benefits of the sage are provided in accordance with Heaven, they do not provoke people to contend with each other.

Professor Cheng says: Herein is Lao–tze's idea of truth, goodness and beauty. Dress in coarse clothes and carry the jade in your bosom: beauty is within. It is not something that everyone in the world can know. 'The wise are not widely learned' means to concentrate on the One. Doing things for others and giving of himself, the Sage feels fulfilment and gain; he follows the example of heaven and is not mean. Moreover, the Tao of heaven promotes birth and growth rather than harm. The Sage follows the Tao, and thus accomplishes without competing.

Realising that we do not have to freeze things into being what we think they are, and that, even if we do, they dissolve and melt into being something else forthwith anyway, and then something else again, we can learn to let go — to go with the flow, as it were...
So doing, we learn a little compassion for those who do not yet know this, and — basing ourselves in this — work for the well–being and benefit both of individuals and of the whole.
There is no need of recognition for this: what is important is that it works.
And what is so beautiful is that anything that comes our way can be turned to (or is that 're–turned to'?) this end.

Are not our 'gifts' simply so that we do not come empty–handed to the feast?

tao teh ching 80

A small country has fewer people.
Though there are machines that can work ten to a hundred times faster than man, they are not needed.
The people take death seriously and do not travel far.
Though they have boats and carriages, no–one uses them.
Though they have armour and weapons, no–one displays them.
Men return to the knotting of rope in place of writing.
Their food is plain and good, their clothes fine but simple, their homes secure;
They are happy in their ways.
Though they live within sight of their neighbours
And crowing cocks and barking dogs are heard across the way,
Yet they leave each other in peace while they grow old and die.

All other texts read this entire chapter as a suggestion rather than a matter of fact. Lau's version, for example, says:

Reduce the size and population of the state. Ensure that even though the people have tools of war for a troop or battalion they will not use them; and also that they will be reluctant to move to distant places because they look on death as no light matter.
Even when they have ships and carts, they will have no use for them; and even when they have armour and weapons, they will have no occasion to make a show of them.
Bring it about that the people return to use of the knotted rope,
Find relish in their food
And beauty in their clothes,
That they are content in their abode
And happy in the way they live.
Though adjoining states are within sight of one another, and the sound of dogs barking and cocks crowing in one state can be heard in another, yet the people of one state will grow old and die without having any dealings with those of the other.

According to Henricks, there is both a military and a non–military interpretation for the 'tens and hundreds' in line 2. Some translators read it as Gia–fu Feng has, above, or as an idea of an abundance and overabundance of tools and utensils; others as does Lau in terms of troops (the 'tens and hundreds', as such) and weapons ('tools/utensils').

Apparently the second half of the text (from 'relish their food...' on) is cited by the great historian Ssu–ma Ch'ien in relation to the times of Shen–nung (a figure from Chinese mythology said to have invented the plough and taught man the art of agriculture as well as the cultivation of forests. He is also credited with the introduction of medicaments. Shen–nung is one of the three noble ones, called the San–huang. He is also considered to be the god of wind and the patron of pharmacists. He is sometimes portrayed with the head of an ox)(sez The Encyclopedia Mythica), and might ultimately stem from a 'Tiller' (nung–chia) source (cf., e.g.).

Wang Pi says:

If the state were small and the common folk few, it would still be possible to revert to antiquity, but how much less likely this is when the state is large and the common folk many in number!
In other words, if one supplied the common folk with only enough military equipment a company but gave them no occasion to use them, why would one ever need to worry that they were ill–equipped?
If the common folk are not used by the state for military purposes, since it is their own persons they will then cherish, they will not covet goods. Thus, finding contentment where they live, they would all take death seriously and not seek to journey far.
There would be nothing they crave.

Lynn notes that, in section 2 of The Commentary on the Appended Phrases, Part II, in the I Ching, it says (in part): 'In remote antiquity, people knotted cords to keep things in order. The sages of later periods replaced this with written tallies, and by means of these all the various officials were supervised, and the common folk kept under control'.

Professor Cheng's comment is: Such conditions were a dream even in Lao–tze's time. Today, when it is possible to travel tens of thousands of miles between dawn and dusk, this eventuality is out of the question. If we wanted to return to knotting ropes, we would have to start the world from its primitive beginnings again.

If internal proof were still needed that this is not a political text and that Taoism is not a political school, one need look no further than this 'hippy' day–dream... There is no going back. Everybody knows this, and they always have.
So what is Grandfather Lao trying to tell us here?
One thing he is certainly not telling us is that we should dumb–down. On the contrary! And yet, on the face of it, that's exactly what this chapter is saying.
If we stick with my 'meditative' reading, however, perhaps all he means here is : Keep it simple; keep it small; you don't have to use everything you've got. In fact, when you do, you lose it... You lose sight of its beauty and confuse yourself with what seems to be innovation and change.
Get on with your own business, don't meddle in the business of others, and don't be too taken in by their way of going about things, either... It's just 'a way of going about things', like yours.
As it says in the I Ching, 'a good team horse is not continuously glancing at its team–mate'...

Come back to 'this'; let go of 'that'.

tao teh ching 79

After a bitter quarrel, some resentment must remain.
What can one do about it[1]?
Therefore the sage keeps his half of the bargain[2]
But does not exact his due.
The man of Virtue performs his part,
But a man without Virtue requires others to fulfil their obligations.
The Tao of heaven is impartial.
It stays with good men all the time.

[1] Lau, borne out by the Ma wang tui reading, has:

When peace is made between great enemies
Some enmity is bound to remain undispelled.
How can this be considered perfect?

[2] Lau has '... the sage takes the left–hand tally...' with a note to the effect that the left–hand tally was the half held by the creditor. This is also the version of the Ma wang tui B text, but the A text has him holding on to the right–hand tally, with a note that this was the part due to the superior partner in any contract. Henricks then argues — quite cogently, I think — that this is actually what is being said here: that although the sage is owed much, he does not exact payment. He causes no resentment because he makes no demands on others and does not expect them to live up to their part of the bargain.

Wang Pi says:

If one has not arranged a contract clearly, and, as such, allows things to reach a point where great resentment has already arisen before using virtue to restore harmony, the injury will not be healed.
It is by holding the left half of the tally that he prevents reasons for resentment from arising.
A person of virtue considers his contracts carefully and does not allow resentment to arise and then blame the other party.
The person without virtue scrutinizes and corrects the mistakes of others.

Cheng says: Hatred is related to malice; goodness to kindness. As kindness cannot mix with hatred, goodness cannot harmonise with evil. Compromising with hatred is unworthy of the good. The Sage, holding the tally–stick, waits for the man with Teh to take the other half. This is harmonious. The man with no Teh loses hold of the stick and slips away. The Tao of heaven is without selfish preferences. It dwells only with the virtuous and the good.

At this point in the Ma wang tui text there is a note saying: Teh — 3041 characters, and, at the end of ch. 37, has another saying Tao — 2426 characters. It thus follows that the full Ma wang tui text originally had a total of 5467 characters whereas the extant Wang Pi text has only 5268 and that of Ho–shang Kung, 5281.
Apparently Fu I (554–639 C.E.) also claimed that he had available to him versions with 5722, 5635, 5683, and 5555 characters.

Interestingly, too, the fact that the tally of characters comes here, and not at the end of ch. 81 where it would seemingly be more logical leads to the conclusion that either the last two chapters are later interpolations (which I doubt — they are, after all, included in the Ma wang tui text which is the oldest version know to us to date), or that they are to be regarded as a sort of summing up — that we have seen all that has been said on both the Way and its authentic and inauthentic forms of Manifestation and that this is now a sort of 'outro', as it were.

We shall see over the next two days, no?

No matter how hard one tries to suppress one's own negativity, to repress and negate it, it will always arise again, and often in ways that are far more powerful and surprising... frightening, even. This is even more true when one tries to meddle with what one considers the negativities of others, and over which one actually has no control at all.
Finally, the only 'technique' is to maintain one's vigilance — one's own part of the bargain — and allow the negativities — the part of the other — to dissolve. If one recognises the thoughts for what they are as they arise, as the continue and as they disappear, how can they ever bring harm?

On the other hand, if one does not, how can they fail to drag one off into universes and infinite webs of cause and effect far beyond one's wildest dreams?

tao teh ching 78

Under heaven nothing is softer or more yielding than water.
Yet for attacking the solid and strong, nothing is better;
It has no equal.
The weak can overcome the strong;
The supple can overcome the stiff[1].
Under heaven everyone knows this,
Yet no–one puts it into practice.
Therefore the sage says:
He who takes upon himself the humiliation of the people is fit to rule them[2].
He who takes upon himself the country's disasters deserves to be king of the universe[3].
The truth often sounds paradoxical.

[1] The Ma wang tui text continues with the water image here, taking the second line of the couplet as an explication of the first, and reads this as: 'That water can defeat the unyielding— That the weak can over come the strong— (everyone under heaven knows this...)
[2] Lau, borne out by the Ma wang tui text, says, '... Is called a ruler worthy of offering sacrifice to the gods of earth and millet', and adds a note to the effect that each state had (and possibly still even has) its own shrines to the gods of earth and millet, and a state was considered independent only as long as its ruler was able to maintain these shrines.
[3] Most other readings reckon king or emperor of the world will be enough.

Wang Pi's commentary, which concerns the first section only, says that:

The impossibility refers to water. In other words, if one employs the softness and pliancy of water, no–one can ever take one's place.

Professor Cheng says: In assaulting the hard and strong nothing is better than water, and yet, though the whole world knows this, no–one can practice it. Hence the Sage says if one can accept even the filth and disasters of a nation, one will be lord of the society and ruler of the world. Words of truth seeming the exact opposite is similar to knowing the usefulness of water, yet not practicing it.

If, without stirring, one can allow the thoughts to come and go of themselves, regardless of whether their content is 'good' or 'naughty'... just let them arise and then dissolve again, while we simply stay with the awareness, this is what is really meant by meditation... Staying with the awareness is 'stillness', and being aware is 'insight'... When one retreats from no 'fall' and rushes toward no 'opening', but simply stays with and dissolves within the instant, then whatever arises is the source of enlightenment.
Water is deceptively powerful, even in repose. Try and push your hand flat down into water and you soon discover that it's resistance, though apparently opening up before you, is quite powerful and firm. Also, once you've finally managed to push your hand down into it, where are you? Completely surrounded by it.
This is the very essence of the t'ai chi ch'uan ideas of sticking, adhering, joining and following.

As is said, 'It has no teeth, yet can bore through iron and stone; it has no bones, yet can carry a ship weighing ten thousand tons'.

tao teh ching 77

The Tao of heaven is like the bending of a bow[1].
The high is lowered, and the low is raised.
If the string is too long, it is shortened;
If there is not enough, it is made longer[2].

The Tao of heaven is to take from those who have too much and give to those who do not have enough.
Man's way is different.
He takes from those who do not have enough
to give to those who already have too much.
What man has more than enough and gives it to the world?
Only the man of Tao.

Therefore the sage works without recognition.
He achieves what has to be done without dwelling on it.
He does not try to show his knowledge[3].

[1] Lau puts this as a question: Is not the way of heaven like the stretching of a bow?
[2] Both Lau and the Ma wang tui text understand this simply as taking from where there is too much and augmenting where there is too little. Nothing to do with bow strings.
[3] Lau reads this last section as:

Therefore the sage benefits them yet exacts no gratitude,
Accomplishes his task yet lays claim to no merit.
Is this not because he does not wish to be considered a better man than others?

The Ma wang tui text says the sage

... takes actions but does not possess them;
Accomplishes his tasks but does not dwell on them.

I'm not sure Henricks hasn't garbled the last line, which he seems to read, 'Like this, is his desire not to make a display of his worthiness'. This is not a question. Perhaps it's a misprint (the book is bound very badly, too, with many chapters completely out of place) for 'his desire is not'?

Wang Pi's commentary says:

Only if one makes one's virtue conform to that of Heaven and Earth can one one embrace the people as the Tao of Heaven and Earth does. If one tried to embrace them with just one's individual capacity for virtue, having a stake in one's own existence, one would be unable to establish equity amongst them. Indeed, it is possible only where one has no stake in one's individual existence and is absolute devoid of self–interest. Only after attaining to the natural can one join one's virtue to that of heaven and Earth.
In other words, who is able to exist in fullness and yet be completely empty? Who is able to diminish those who have too much too augment those who do not? Who 'merges with the brilliant and becomes one with the very dust'? Who can establish universal equity? Only one who has the Tao. Thus it is that the sage has no desire to exhibit his worthiness, for it is in keeping it hidden that he establishes equity among all under Heaven.

Cheng says: To draw a bow, the left hand grips it and the right hand draws the string back. The left hand must be firm and unwavering. The right hand can raise or lower the arrow. Reducing or supplementing the excessive and deficient refers to tilting the bow backward or forward to bring the arrow in line with the bull's eye. The Tao of heaven reduces the excessive and supplements the insufficient, whereas man takes from where there is not enough to augment where there is already too much. Who is it that has enough surplus to augment and supplement the world? Truly, only such a one as possesses Tao. Only the Sage, in harmony with the Teh of heaven and earth, acts but does not demand subservience, is deserving of merit yet claims no credit, and this because he has no desire whatsoever to advertise his own worth.

Actually, when drawing a bow, both high and low are simultaneously pulled toward the centre, and it is from the centre that the arrow is released. This is the point. There is no adjusting up and down with the right hand: It simply draws back and into the centre; all aiming is done with the steady but flexible left hand.
The idea here is that of balance — of levelling out extremes. In meditation, for example, if one is too tense and too intent on catching thoughts as they arise and dissolving them, this is as much a mistake as is being simply unaware that they have arisen and being carried off by them. Somewhere between the two is a point of balance... a point were one is perfectly in tune... Aware but not waiting like a cat to pounce on a mouse; relaxed but not 'asleep'.
Another example that could be adduced here is that of trying to recognise the dream state. If one is too intense, either the dream will not come or one awakens the moment one becomes aware of it; on the other hand, if one is not adequately aware, one is simply carried off into 'dream reality' without the least knowledge of where one is or what it is that is going on.

The careful tuning of a stringed instrument makes a very fine image.

What we tend to do, though, is exactly the opposite: we feed our senses and our excitement during the day and then sleep like the dead at night. Never do we stop, even for an instant, to wonder what all this is.... where it is coming from, why it should appear to us in this way and not some other or even be here at all. We are completely swept away by it, and easy prey for any distraction.

Only those who realise the Way are safe from this, and time is running out like blood from a severed aorta.

tao teh ching 76

A man is born gentle and weak.
At his death he is hard and stiff.
Green plants are tender and filled with sap[1].
At their death they are withered and dry.

Therefore the stiff and the unbending is the disciple[2] of death.
The gentle and yielding is the disciple of life.

Thus an army without flexibility never wins a battle.
A tree that is unbending is easily broken.

The hard and the strong will fall.
The soft and the weak will overcome[3].

[1] The Ma wang tui text has: When the ten thousand things and grasses and trees are alive, they're supple and pliant.
[2] Lau and the Ma wang tui both have 'companions'.
[3] Lau's version of these last four lines is:

Therefore the weapon that is strong will not vanquish;
A tree that is strong will suffer the axe.
The strong and big takes the lower position,
The supple and weak takes the higher position.

but the Ma wang tui version of the first two comes closer to the Gia–fu Feng reading.

Wang Pi says:

If one inflicts violence on all under Heaven through the use of stiff ('powerful') military force, one will be despised by the people. Thus one will surely fail to enjoy victory.
A stiff tree will be attacked by all sorts of creatures.
When the strong and great are below, this is the trunk of the tree.
When the soft and pliant are above, this refers to the branches.

Professor Cheng's commentary is: The stiff and the hard are moribund, the soft and supple vital. If an army is strong it will not be victorious; a hardy tree gets the axe. The stiff and hard trunk is below and the soft and supple branches above. This accords with the laws of nature.

What is 'strong' is one's resolve not to be taken in by appearances; what is 'weak' is the suppleness of allowing things to be as they are and then to dissolve.

tao teh ching 75

Why are the people starving?
Because the rulers eat up the money in taxes.
Therefore the people are starving.

Why are the people rebellious?
Because the rulers interfere[1] too much.
Therefore they are rebellious.

Why do the people think so little of death?
Because the rulers demand too much of life[2].
Therefore the people take death lightly.

Having little to live on, one knows better than to value life too much[3].

[1] Lau has '... are too fond of action', the Ma wang tui text , '... have their reasons for acting'.
[2] Lau has 'It is because the people set too much store by life...', the Ma wang tui text, '... because they so avidly seek after life...'
[3] Lau has 'It is just because one has no use for life that one is wiser than the man who values life', the Ma wang tui text, 'Only those who do not act for the purpose of living — Only this is worth more than valuing life'.

Wang Pi says:

In other words, the reason the common folk indulge in deviant behaviour and the reason government ends in chaos always stem from the ruler and not from the subjects. The common folk model themselves on the ruler.

Professor Cheng's commentary says: The people starve because they are taxed too heavily. They are unruly because those above them have become selfish. The people take death lightly because of the stress on urgently seeking life. Conversely, if those above were to practice non–action, they would allow the people to live naturally and would thus be worthy examples of valuing life.

We come back here to the idea that what arises as our universe depends on how we are reading. Those who read life as a disaster get disaster; those who read it as adventure get adventure. Those who see it as an ever unfolding miracle get an ever unfolding miracle. Not that anything changes in what happens — The change is in the point of view.
Thoughts arise, take on form and then disappear. If one clings to them, one is tossed right and left, if one pushes them down, they surge up again somewhere else, and yet — if one simply lets them be — they come... they go... Some are interesting, some important, even, but it doesn't really matter... They are just thoughts, just experiences... fleeting... And ever–changing...
The thoughts model themselves around the reading.
We seem, on the one hand, to be forced to follow the world as dictated by external influences. If, on the other, though, we were simply to follow our own natural bents, borrowing for a while what we needed from life but leaving the rest, understanding that what we have borrowed we will have to return, preferably in better, but at least in as good a condition as it was when first we borrowed it, living lightly, thinking lightly, how different things would be. If, to this, we could add an attitude of ever–expanding kindliness and a recognition that the suffering of even one being is the suffering of all, surely the world would turn in its tracks.
We are driven to seek life, but life is what is here before our eyes, before our feet. There is nothing to seek. What we are pushing ourselves for is excitement, stimulation, change, and so we miss the subtle movements. An image used in tantric sexual terminology is the idea of 'static bliss' — a pre–ordained 'state' that will be the optimum of pleasure. In search of this orgasmic state, punch drunk with the idea of explosion, we miss all the tiny and subtle pleasures that are leading to — and from — it, the candle–lit dinners, the flowers, the taste of the wine... We are careless of life — convinced it's happening somewhere else than here and now.
And we are careless of death. Death (since one seems never to have died oneself) is something that only happens to others... We don't really stop to think about what it might be or how we will avoid regret when it comes to us — who knows, — in the next instant. We don't stop to think that all that separates us from death is that one heart beat, that one breath — that our lives are as fragile as a bubble.
Our minds have become unruly, dragging us round from pillar to post.
This is not a particularly 'modern' or 'occidental' disease: I believe it has always been the case. Otherwise why would beings such as Grandfather Lao have bothered to comment on it?
We get lost. The point is: we are lost only in our imagination — literally... Wrapped in the dreams and nightmares of our own read–out of what we are experiencing.

It's time now to come home.

tao teh ching 74

If men are not afraid to die,
It is of no avail to threaten them with death.

If men live i constant fear of dying,
And if breaking the law means that a man will be killed,
Who will dare to break the law?[1]

There is always an official executioner.
If you try to take his place,
It's like trying to be a master carpenter and cutting wood.
If you try to cut wood like a master carpenter, you will only hurt your hand.

[1] D. C. Lau's take on this has a somewhat different flavour, more or less borne out by the Ma wang tui reading. He says (taking it from the top):

When the people are not afraid of death, wherefore frighten them with death? Were the people always afraid of death, and were I able to arrest and put to death those who innovate, then who would dare?

Wang Pi is strangely silent on this chapter. All he says is:

Deviant and socially disruptive is what is meant by 'perverse'.
Miscreants provoke hatred and anger in the compliant, and the cruel are always detested by the people. Thus 'there is the constant executioner'.

Professor Cheng says: If the people fear death and some who behave in unorthodox manner are caught and executed, who among the rest will dare oppose the social order? The remainder of the text bemoans the existence of the executioner. Not only is it inappropriate for anyone to substitute for the executioner, but it is also improper to be one.

I feel that both these commentaries actually miss the central point and tend to agree with Henricks who points out that what Lao–tze is saying here is that people do, quite naturally, fear death, and that even were their lives seem worthless to them this fear is there. The 'constant executioner' is not some huge eunuch with a scimitar but death itself. Death is always there — more constant, even, than your taxes — and there is therefore no need for the sage to precipitate death. It comes quite naturally and the people are already in awe of it. Rather encourage life and make sure it's worth the living.
Richard John Lynn assumes with Wang Pi that it is the people who are the executioner and that all the sage has to do is let the people take care of justice, but this can hardly be what Lao–tze is on about — If he's on about anything at all, it's about gentleness.
Mob justice, as we know only too well, unfortunately, is anything but gentle or even just.
Cheng comes a little closer in his last line... I 'reread' it as 'not only do you not need to precipitate death, but you have completely lost the track if you should even think to do so'.
In meditation you find that thoughts cannot be stopped — repressed — but that, if you leave them to themselves and don't pay them too much attention, they simply dissolve again of quite naturally because that's what thoughts do... They appear out of nowhere, have a seeming sort of half–life for a while, albeit they are nothing as such, and then disappear again... You don't have to invite them; you don't have to send them on their way; and, while they are present, you don't really have to listen to anything they say... Particularly not when practicing stilling or insight meditation...
As to killing, I would like to quote an extraordinary teaching by Jadräl Rinpoche, Sangye Dorje, from a recent and utterly exquisite book by Sandra Scales and published by Padma Publishing, called Sacred Voices of the Nyingma Masters. Once — many years ago now — it was suggested to me that I ask Jadräl Rinpoche to be my teacher. As luck would have it, though, that was not possible, and, although I have had the good fortune to study with and receive empowerment and blessings from many of the other great Nyingma masters over the past 40–odd years, I have never had the good fortune of meeting with him. One of his practices is the ransoming and release of animals destined for slaughter. At the request of Sandra Scales, he wrote the following text, rather beautifully rendered here by one of her translators:

To the spiritual master, Buddha of Infinite Life, Amitayus,
And to his bodhisattva disciples, I bow.
I will now briefly explain the benefits
Of ransoming and releasing animals.

To ransom and release animals
Constitutes a flawless practice
To be done with pure motivation and applied
By all of Shakyamuni's followers.

The benefits of this practice have been described extensively
In many sutras, tantras and treatises.
Oceanlike gatherings of learned and accomplished masters of India and Tibet
Have considered this an important way to aid beings.

For those of the Hinayana,
This practice represents the abandoning of harming others;
For those who have entered the mind of awakening of the Mahayana,
It represents the training itself;
And for practitioners of the Secret Mantra,
It represents the principal tantric commitment of the Jewel buddha family.

The reason for this is that in the world,
Nothing is more precious than life itself
And no negative act more serious than taking life.
Therefore, among composite forms of the roots of virtue,
None has greater benefit
Than the ransom and release of animals.
If you wish for happiness and good fortune,
Be diligent on this supreme path.

The authenticity of this practice is proven
By the authority of scripture and by logic.
It is a path without obstacle or error.
Thinking of your own body as an example,
Through this practice, give up harming others.

Don't take life.
Instead, release birds, fish, wild animals,
Farm animals doomed to be slaughtered
And also small creatures such as ants and bees.
Be diligent in giving them refuge from fear.

The benefits of this are inconceivable:
It is the supreme practice for longevity,
And there is no higher practice for nurturing good health
Or for dedicating virtue to the dead.
It is my main practice to help beings.

It clears away misfortune that arises due to outer and inner obstacles
And creates harmonious circumstances effortlessly and spontaneously.
When it is guided by positive motivation
And concluded with pure dedication and aspirations,
Its effect is that you will reach perfect enlightenment
And accomplish the two goals — benefit for yourself and for others.
Have no doubt of this!

Those who are endowed with merit and a virtuous attitude
Should prevent the practice of hunting in mountains and valleys.
In particular, during autumn and spring,
When flocks of cranes and other birds
Are compelled by their karma to fly south or north,
They must move their wings with great effort
And soar through space.
Yet sometimes they must come to earth
With anxiety, fear and an uneasy mind.
Don't strike such beings with stones or weapons.
Don't kill or harm them.
Protect them and help them to continue their migration in comfort.

'To help with loving–kindness
Destitute beings without protection
Has merit equal to that
Of meditating on the essence of compassion and emptiness.'
Thus said the glorious master Atisha.

Lamas, teachers, monks, nuns and lay people, both women and men,
Should each in your own domain
Energetically perform as much ransom and release of animals as you are able
And encourage others to do the same.

By doing so,
You will pacify sickness and disaster
Among humans and farm animals in your region.
Harvest will be plentiful, crops will increase, life will be long
And perfect happiness will dawn.
The time of death will be free of pain and confusion.
In the next life you will obtain an excellent body in a pleasant realm,
And eventually you will easily attain the supreme state of perfect awakening.
Have no doubt of this!

I, the one known as Jadräl Sangye Dorje,
Am always devoted to the activity of ransoming and releasing life.

By the virtue of these words,
May all beings enter the way of the bodhisattvas.

Mama Koling Samanta

(As far as I can make out — my Sanskrit studies never really properly got off the ground, unfortunately — this last phrase means something along the lines of: 'May I realise we're all one')

Buy the book — the royalties go into a fund created by Jadräl Rinpoche to just this end.

tao teh ching 73

A brave and passionate man will kill or be killed.
A brave and calm man will always preserve life.
Of these two, which is good and which is harmful?
Some things are not favoured by heaven. Who knows why?
Even the sage is unsure of this.

The Tao of heaven does not strive and yet it overcomes.
It does not speak and yet it is answered.
It does not ask, yet is supplied with all it needs.
It seems at ease and yet it follows a plan[1].

Heaven's net casts wide.
Though its meshes are coarse, nothing slips through.

[1] Up to this point, both Lau and the Ma wang tui text are different enough to be cited here in full. Lau has:

He who is fearless in being bold will meet with his death;
He who is fearless in being timid will stay alive.
Of the two, one leads to good and the other to harm.
Heaven hates what it hates,
Who knows the reason why?
Therefore even the sage treats some things as difficult.
The way of heaven
Excels in overcoming though it does not contend,
In responding though it does not speak,
In attracting though it does not summon,
In laying plans though it appears slack.

The Ma wang tui text says:

If you're brave in being daring, you'll be killed;
If you're brave in not being daring, you'll live.
With these two things, in one case there's profit, in the other there's harm.
The things Heaven hates — who knows why?
The Way of Heaven is not to fight yet to be good at winning —
Not to speak yet skilfully respond —
No one summons it, yet it comes on its own —
To be at ease yet carefully plan.

Henricks agrees that the standard text version of the last line but one makes more sense. Wang Pi reads the line concerning profit and harm as that either approach can sometimes result benefit and sometimes not. He also reads the last few lines of this section as referring to the sage rather than to the Tao itself.

His commentary says:

One who expresses his bravery in daring will surely not die a natural death.
One who expresses his bravery in not daring will enjoy the full span of his years.
Both approaches entail bravery, but those who exercise bravery differ so the same benefit or harm does not always occur. Thus the text says they 'result sometimes in benefit, sometimes in harm'.
Who is able to understand heaven's intentions? Only the sage can do so. However, because even the sage with his perspicacity finds bravery expressed in daring to be fraught with danger, how much more so should this be true for those who lack such perspicacity and yet wish to rush straight in!
It is precisely because the sage does not contend that no one under Heaven can contend with him.
Compliance is good fortune and opposition misfortune. This is how 'he excels at making people respond without speaking'.
Since he takes the low position, the people gravitate toward him of their own accord.
Since Heaven reveals good fortune and misfortune by hanging images in the sky(*), the plans he sets are verified before things actually happen. When secure, he does not forget danger, and he makes plans while things are still in the pre–manifest stage. Thus 'he excels at planning while utterly at ease'.

(*) Section 11 of the Commentary on the Appended Phrases in the I Ching reads in part, 'Heaven produced numinous things and the sage regarded these as ruling principles. Heaven and Earth changed and transformed and the sage took these as models. Heaven hung images in the sky to reveal good fortune and bad and the sage regarded these as meaningful signs'.

Chen Man–ch'ing says: This rather complicated chapter discusses the web of heaven. It is so vast and its meshes are so widely spaced, yet nothing is missed, just as those who have the courage not to dare, live. As always, this is related to cleaving to the Female and harmonising with the ways of non–action. The Tao of heaven is difficult to understand. The sage follows it even though it is not easy. What follows next in the text, from 'does not contend' and so on...' is simply a restatement of 'Non–action, yet nothing is left undone' (cf., e.g., chs. 3 and 48).

Although Wang Pi is, of course, right that there are those very rare occasions where an act of daring might, for example, save someone's life, as he also points out, the results of such an act are by no means guaranteed, and, generally speaking things are best left to themselves. I would tend to disagree that the results of the acts of one whose bravery consists in daring not to act ever bring misfortune. 'The brave and calm person will always preserve life' is how Gia–fu Feng reads it, and it seems to me very clear that this is the point. Not that such a person preserves their own life, but that they always do everything they can to bring harm to no–one at all — to preserve — and even to encourage and promote — life.

There is a subtle yet enormous difference between simply refraining from doing things that are negative (which is passive), and actually exerting oneself (though not in any meddling or self–satisfied way) to do the opposite of what would generally be considered negative — saving lives rather than killing, for example, or practicing open–hearted and handed generosity rather than envying or stealing what others might have.
The effect — the trace it leaves on the deepest layers of our being — is far more profound.

tao teh ching 72

When men lack a sense of awe, there will be disaster[1].

Do not intrude in their homes[2].
Do not harass them at work.
If you do not interfere, they will not tire of you.

Therefore the sage knows himself but makes no show,
Has self–respect but is not arrogant.
He lets go of that and chooses this.

[1] The Ma wang tui text reads, '... then what they greatly fear is about to arrive'.
[2] Both Lau and the Ma wang tui text read this rather as constricting their living space.

Wang Pi reads this text completely differently, so I shall give it in full here and then (for typographical reasons) follow that with his interlinear comments:

If the common folk do not fear force, such great force will arrive that there will be no restricting them to the boundaries within which they should dwell, no satisfying them within the limits in which they should dwell.
It is just because one is insatiable that there is no satisfying one.
Therefore what the sage knows he does not himself reveal.
He cherishes himself but does not value himself.
Thus he rejects the one and keeps the other.

He comments:

Where they should dwell means in purity, quietude and freedom from deliberate action. Where they should live means in humility, deference and freedom from arrogance. If the sovereign abandons purity and quietude and instead practices greed, deserts humility and deference and instead relies on power, people will make trouble and the common folk will fall into deviant behaviour. This means that power is no longer able to control the common folk. When the common folk are unable to bear the weight of this power any longer, they will burst forth in a flood from top to bottom, and this means that the terrible judgement of Heaven is about to arrive. In other words, the power of force should not be relied on.
If one does not find contentment with one's own lot, nothing under Heaven will ever satisfy one.
He does not himself reveal what he knows, that is the bright beam of his intelligence and how to exercise power.
If he valued himself, he would have to place restrictions and boundaries within which people should dwell and enforce limits on the satisfaction within which they should live.

Cheng says: To have no fear of the awesome is equivalent to trifling with the law and will inevitably result in more stringent punishments. 'But do not be disrespectful of their dwellings' means to police their neighbourhood but avoid rudeness in the desire to make their dwellings respectable. Trifling with the law until it becomes a matter of life and death suppresses the people's livelihood. On the other hand, if one is not strict with oneself, who else will be? That is why the Sage with his self–knowledge and self– respect is able to study the laws of nature. Though he does not make a show of himself or seek recognition, he is able to discriminate between 'the one' and 'the other'.

Wang Pi's reading seems very strange to me, pouring complication upon what it actually quite simple. Do not intrude; do not restrict; do not set limits... Then the natural limits are respected of themselves by one and all.
When people are no longer in awe of anything at all, nothing is sacred and, hence, nothing is safe. Laws, mores and appreciation of worth all disappear, only to be replaced by more restrictive, more fundamentalist interpretations...
If 'gods' and 'laws' are all that is used to scare the people into obedience, when these 'die' what is left except more stringent application?

How sad that it was imagined that gods and laws had to be created in the first place.

tao teh ching 71

Knowing ignorance is strength.
Ignoring knowledge is sickness.

If one is sick of sickness then one is not sick.
The sage is not sick because he is sick if sickness.
Therefore he is not sick.

Lau reads this completely differently:

To know and yet think one does not know is best;
Not to know and yet think that one knows will lead to difficulty.
It is by being alive to difficulty that one can avoid it. The sage meets with no difficulty. It is because he is alive to it that he meets with no difficulty.

And the Ma wang tui text is different again... sort of somewhere between the two:

To know you don't know is best.
Not to know you don't know is a flaw.
Therefore, the Sage's not being flawed
Stems from his recognising a flaw as a flaw.
Therefore he is flawless.

Oddly, the first two lines of the text have been the source of much confusion amongst scholars... Possibly because, for them, knowing (and only knowing) is knowing?... I don't know.

Wang Pi's comment is almost as laconic as the text itself. He says:

If one does not realise that knowledge is not worth relying on it will result in harm.
To regard harm as harm means that one has recognised how it is harm.

Professor Cheng says: 'To know yet appear as not knowing is best' harks back to chapter 56, 'one who knows does not speak', thereby appearing not to know. This is good. 'To know yet appear as knowing is sickness' describes someone who does not know and yet speaks. His 'knowledge' is his sickness, the disease of convincing oneself that one 'knows' what one does not. This is finally the real meaning of Lao–tze's words albeit they are very simple. 'Whoever is sick of sickness will not be sick' means that those who recognise this sickness for what it is will scrupulously avoid it. The Sage can do this.

Thought — knowledge — goes only just so far. Like language, it is inherently dualistic. Also almost inevitably based in the subject — ego–centric, as it were. Furthermore, what can be known is infinite in its possibilities. Nobody has the time or even the capacity to know everything.
Basically what we call 'knowing' is just made up of glimpses, passing acquaintance, assumptions, opinion and presupposition. We don't really know anything about anything, starting with ourselves and moving west in any direction...

We just think we know, which is quite a different thing.

tao teh ching 70

My words are easy to understand and easy to perform,
Yet no man under heaven knows them or practices them.

My words have ancient beginnings.
My actions are disciplined[1].
Because men do not understand, they have no knowledge of me.

Those that know me are few;
Those that abuse[2] me are honoured.
Therefore the sage wears rough clothing and holds the jewel in his heart[3].

[1] Lau, borne out by the readings of both Wang Pi and the Ma wang tui text, has, 'Words have an ancestor and actions have a sovereign' with the note: If one could only grasp the 'ancestor' and the 'sovereign', the understanding of all words and affairs would follow.
[2] Lau translates this word as 'imitate' but notes that the next line actually makes far better sense if it's read as a corruption of the word 'harm'. The Ma wang tui text reads the line as: But when those that understand me are few, it's then that I'm of great value'. This reading is also that followed by Wang Pi.
[3] All other texts read this line as meaning 'although the sage is clad in homespun...'

Wang Pi says:

You can understand without leaving your gate or peering through your window. You can put them into practice without taking deliberate action. But people are deluded by attachment and befuddled by what they imagine is honour.
'Progenitor' refers to the master of the myriad things, and 'sovereign' to the master of the myriad affairs.
Because his words have this progenitor and his undertakings this sovereign, if there were those who could understand how this is so, they could not fail to understand him.
It is because he is so profound that those who understand him are rare. And the rarer understanding of him is, the less likely it is that he will have a counterpart.
To wear homespun is to be one with the very dust. To hold jade in one's bosom means to treasure one's authenticity. The reason the sage is so hard to recognise is that he is one with the dust and does not stand out in any way. He harbours jade in his bosom and does not compromise it. And, being hard to recognise, he is thus also precious.

Cheng Man–ch'ing, whose version of the text takes its name from the first words of this chapter, says: I have explained the section beginning 'my words have their sources' in my commentary on chapter 59(*): Lao–tze's teachings are truly easy to understand, but his definitions and logic are so different from the common man's that they are nearly impossible to practice. The statement that 'people do not understand' is connected with chapter 20's 'what a fool's mind I have!... I alone want dullness and darkness'. Because Lao–tze never favours knowledge, people do not understand him. However, as he says, 'the fewer who know me, the more valuable I am'. So the sage 'wears coarse clothes while carrying jade in his bosom', and very few people know about it.

(*) Having cited the first two lines, his commentary on ch. 59 continues: In fact people do not try to understand and practice them. Lao–tze continuously repeats and explains himself, but if the people still do not understand, what is the use of this?

We tend to seek out the exciting, the intriguing, the distant rather than the close at hand, the intoxicating wine rather than the refreshing water.
It's often said that the only difficulty with realising reality is that we look through it, beyond it — we look too far. It's right here... this... We look 'there'... for 'that'...

The ancient source.

tao teh ching 69

There is a saying among soldiers[1]:
I dare not make the first move but would rather play the guest;
I dare not advance an inch but would rather withdraw a foot.

This is called marching without appearing to move,
Rolling up your sleeves without showing your arms,
Capturing the enemy without attacking,
Being armed without weapons[2].

There is no greater catastrophe than underestimating the enemy[3].
By underestimating the enemy, I almost lose what I value.

Therefore when battle is joined[4],
The underdog will win[5].

[1] Most texts read something like 'those who specialise in arms and strategy'.
[2] For this section Lau reads somewhat differently:

This is known as marching forward when there is no road,
Rolling up one's sleeves where there is no arm,
Dragging one's adversary by force when there is no adversary,
And taking up arms when there are no arms.

The Ma wang tui text has:

This is called moving forward without moving forward —
Rolling up one's sleeves without baring one's arms —
Grasping firmly without holding a weapon —
And enticing to fight when there is no opponent.

[3] Lau has 'taking on an enemy too easily', and the Ma wang tui text, 'thinking you have no rival'.
[4] The Ma wang tui text adds 'and the opponents are fairly well matched'.
[5] Both Lau and the Ma wang tui text assert that it is the side that that is stricken with sorrow and grief that will win.

Wang Pi's commentary reads:

When not advancing an inch but withdrawing a foot, the other side will not stop you.
... Through humility, deference, pity and kindness, one dare not commit one's own troops first. when one does use troops, it seems as if one 'campaigns as if there were no campaign, rolls up one's sleeve such that no arm is exposed, wields weapons as if there were no weapons involved, and leads in such a way that one faces no opponent'. This means there is no–one to grapple with.

Reading the next line as having to do with not having a viable opponent, he comments: ... Through humility, deference, pity and kindness, one would not wish to seize such power that among all under Heaven one will have no viable opponent. If one cannot stop but finishes up with no viable opponent, however, this is a disaster for one and all. 'Treasure' refers to the 'three treasures' (compassion, freedom from grasping and humility).
He who feels pity and is sure to exercise mercy, will not pursue advantage but do everything to avoid harm. Thus he will surely be victor.

Cheng Man–ch'ing says: The text expands on the 'three treasures' mentioned previously, admonishing to 'be the defender' and to 'retreat a foot' following on the precept 'not daring to be first'. To wield a weapon but not clash with that of the enemy, to raise one's fist without showing them, and to move without moving means that retreat is a way of advancing. To lead the enemy on without opposition is to be irresistible. Parental love, stung by grief, inspires victory. If I take the enemy lightly I am on the verge of losing my 'three treasures'. This is Lao–tze's unorthodox military strategy.

Hakuin Ekaku says: Patience is not 'putting up with the more or less uncomfortable'. Patience is to accept everything, even the utterly unacceptable, without the least complaint or question.
Amongst the Buddhists, enemies and trying situations are regarded as one's most precious treasure inasmuch as, without them, how would one ever learn patience? Anyone can patiently endure the easy. It is only in difficult circumstances that patience becomes necessary and can thus be 'learned' (for 'learned' it certainly must be! — If there is one thing that is not innate, it is certainly patience!).
Nor is there any enemy more redoubtable than anger. It is said that a single instant of anger wipes out aeons of merit and we all know of circumstances where friendship and even love turn to hatred in an instant because of a moment of anger on our part... This is why one should never underestimate the enemy nor engage it directly. If you fight against something, blow for blow, it is certain that you will be swept off in anger sooner or later. The only technique is to lead it on without engaging with it — without opposing it — until it dissolves, at the same time making energetic progress in the good.
What does this entail? It entails vigilance.
If one is aware when anger first arises and fully understands the depredations that are going to stem from it, one can let it go (or, at least, so I am told). In letting go one's anger, first and foremost, it just dissolves — it has nowhere else to go — and, secondly, one has strengthened oneself in learning at least one detail of patience, so the gain is actually twofold.
As it is, our only patience is with our own worst enemies — our ignorance, our anger, our greed, pride and jealousy. This is madness. Kyabje Düd'jom Rinpoche in his Rangkyön Ngöshe or Prayer by which One Recognises One's Own Faults, says, ' Examining ourselves, we are without the slightest shame for our own bad deeds, yet when it comes to others, our patience is as short as the tail of the drawa mouse'.

For this reason, it is always the one with compassion who wins.

tao teh ching 68

A good soldier is not violent.
A good fighter is not angry.
A good winner is not vengeful.
A good employer is humble.
This is known as the Virtue of not striving.
This is known as the ability to deal with people.
This since ancient times has been known as the ultimate unity with heaven.

Lau's version is far more cogent:

One who excels as a warrior does not appear formidable;
One who excels in fighting [1] is never roused to anger;
One who excels in defeating his enemy does not join issue;
One who excels in employing others humbles himself before them.
This is known as the virtue of non–contention;
This is known as [2] making use of the effort of others;
This is known as matching the sublimity of heaven[3].

The Ma wang tui text reads chapters 67, 68 and 69 as a unit and thus begins this chapter with 'Therefore...'

[1] The Ma wang tui text has 'in battle'
[2] The Ma wang tui text adds the word 'correctly' here
[3] The Ma wang tui text adds the line 'It is the high point of the past.

Wang Pi's commentary says:

'Warrior' refers to a commander of troops 'Warlike' describes a fondness for aggressive action.
One who is good at warfare holds back and does not go first, joins in but never starts the singing (cf. ch. 10). Thus he has nothing to do with anger.
'Joins with' means 'contends with'.
If one attempts to use men but does not place oneself below them, their power will not be one's to use (cf. ch. 66).

Professor Cheng says: The quiescence of the female always wins over the male, hence the lower position is victorious. The Tao acts through softness. 'Never confront the enemy directly' means to avoid wrangling or resisting. The gate of All Mysteries — the Mysterious Female — is what is 'in accord with the most ancient heavens'.

Shantideva, in his Bodhicharyavatara, 'Entering the Path of Enlightenment', points out that, although external enemies may be conquered a hundred, a thousand times, they will always regroup to attack one again, ever fiercer in their determination to win, yet, if one dissolves the internal cause of conflict which is one's own anger and hatred — once dissolved it has nowhere else to go and thus will not arise again.

Truly anger, grasping–desire, close–mindedness and the continuing possibility of falling back into these are the only things we should be on the look out for, the only things that should cause us concern. At least until such time as we know for sure that they have lost all hold on our mindstreams.

tao teh ching 67

Everyone under heaven says that my Tao is great and beyond compare[1].
Because it is great, it seems different.
If it were not different, it would have vanished long ago[2].

I have three treasures which I hold and keep.
The first is mercy; the second is economy;
The third is daring not to be ahead of others.
From mercy comes courage; from economy comes generosity[3];
From humility comes leadership.

Nowadays men shun mercy but try to be brave;
The abandon economy but try to be generous;
They do not believe in humility but always try to be first.
This is certain death.

Mercy brings victory in battle and strength in defence.
It is the means by which heaven saves and guards[4].

[1] Lau says '... and resembles nothing'.
[2] Throughout this section the Ma wang tui text uses the first person singular in the sense 'Everyone says "I'm great, I'm different"'... Grandfather Lao then says 'if I were like everyone else, for a long time now I would have been regarded as insignificant and small'.
[3] Lau says that because one is frugal one can afford to extend one's territory.
[4] The Ma wang tui text says:

When heaven tries to establish him,
It's as though he surrounds himself with a protective wall of compassion.

Wang Pi says:

... If it had a likeness, it would have lost the wherewithal to be great...
Thanks to kindness, when one takes the field, one is victorious and, when one takes a defensive position, one holds firm. Thus 'one can be brave'.
When one is frugal and careful of expenditure, no–one under Heaven will be in want, hence the term 'generous'.
Only someone who puts aside their own person can become a source to which others are drawn. Only then can such a one establish himself as a ready device, be of benefit to all under Heaven and become a leader of all peoples.

Professor Cheng says: 'Great and unrelated to anything else' means 'the son surpasses the father' (not as in a father–son relationship, but inasmuch as the Tao surpasses everything else) and refers to the Tao. How can one reject the Tao for its greatness? The text clearly explains the 'three treasures'. To be against the Tao is to choose death. Refusing to compete and still becoming leader of all 'vessels/instruments' refers to an earlier line: 'a great instrument is completed late'. Heaven aids such a person. It protects him through the influence of its 'parental love'.

Everyone wants to be first in what they do — good at it, recognised for it, understood, loved, cherished... This seems quite natural. And yet, here is Lao–tze saying, if he were like that, he would long ago have faded into insignificance.
Instead, he refers to three treasures: compassion, freedom from grasping attachment, and humility as the very basis of all success in life, even military undertakings. Compassion is the root, generosity of spirit the fruit, and humility the modus operandum.
Without these, whatever one undertakes is vain. Those who have them are protected by the all–encompassing compassion of heaven from being swept off into 'paths of glory'.

Surely this is to be sought at every turn?

tao teh ching 66

Why is the sea king of a hundred streams?
Because it lies below them[1].
Therefore it is king of a hundred streams.

If the sage would guide the people, he must serve with humility[2].
If he would lead them, he must follow behind.
In this way, when the sage rules, the people will not feel oppressed.;
When he stands before them, they will not be harmed[3].
The whole world will support him and not tire of him[4].

Because he does not compete,
He does not meet competition[5] .

[1] Both Lau and the Ma wang tui text say that this is because it is good at being below them.
[2 Lau and the Ma wang tui text say that it is particularly in one's words that humility must shine through.
[3] Lau takes these two lines in a more affirmative manner: 'Therefore the sage takes his place over the people yet is no burden; takes his place ahead of the people yet causes no obstruction.' The Ma wang tui text says they do not find him heavy or see him as posing a threat.
[4] The Ma wang tui text says that they delight in praising him.
[5] The Ma wang tui text puts this as a question: 'Is it not because he is not contentious, that...etc.?'

As with chapter 31, Wang Pi has made no comment on this one.

Professor Cheng says that, for all Lao-tze sometimes seems repetitious, this is just evidence of his compassionate heart and we should not reject him because of it. 'If we lead the people with ignorance,' he says, 'of what use will cleverness be?'

Interestingly, if one really is without contentiousness, then, even when others wish to contend with you, you won't see it like that.
Quite how you see it, contentious little bugger that I am, I have not the vaguest idea, but I am assured by those who know that this is the case.
There's an old Chinese saying: 'The best father is a bit dim'.
Assuming this to mean that one can let many things pass, not pouncing on every detail like a cat on a waving piece of grass, and yet still not being duped as to what's really important, I've tried my best to live my fatherhood by it.
But - because I am contentious - because I am a sharp and rather sarcastic critic, in fact, very sure of my 'rightness' as far as how things should be if they're to 'go smoothly' - I make many mistakes and have sometimes hurt my kids quite badly I would guess.
I try to be aware, try not to foist my own encrusted views on them and to allow things to develop as they will and trust in the process, but... there are moments when I just can't keep myself from meddling... This would be fine if it had ever worked, but it doesn't, does it?
And just how to pull that one off I have no idea.
It's easy to talk about being above yet joyfully supported from below, being in front yet posing no threat - even of staying behind yet not pushing - but... actually pulling it off... actually letting things just be as they are, actually understanding that - in their very 'just are-ness' - things really are the blissful manifestation of emptiness unfolding... is somewhat less easily done.

One wanders on... ever hopeful.

tao teh ching 65

In the beginning those who knew the Tao did not try to enlighten others
But kept them in the dark.
Why is it so hard to rule?
Because people are so clever.
Rulers who try to use cleverness
Cheat the country.
Those who rule without cleverness
Are a blessing to the land.
These are the two alternatives.
Understanding these is Primal Virtue.
Primal Virtue is deep and far.
It leads all things back
Toward the great oneness[1].

[1] Lau has, '...But when things turn back it turns back with them./ Only then is complete conformity realised'. The Ma wang tui text says, '... And together with things it returns./ Thus we arrive at the Great Accord'.

Henricks asks the rather cogent question concerning this and chs. 3 and 5... Is it a population of sheep the Taoist sage is after, or does this mean doing away with the downside — the craftiness and self–serving, self–satisfied 'knowledge' — of what is generally considered learning?

Wang Pi says:

'Intelligent' means that much knowledge and clever duplicity obscure pristine simplicity. 'Stupid' means that freedom from knowledge and preservation of authenticity allow us to follow the Natural...
'Knowledge' and 'governance' are pretty much homophonic in Chinese inasmuch as both are pronounced chih... One should ensure that one blocks up the apertures and shuts the doors so that the common folk stay free of knowledge and desire. If, instead, one tries to motivate them through knowledge and methods, once their heart/minds are incited to evil, one will need to use even cleverer methods to keep their dishonest activities in check. However, because the common folk understand how these methods work, they will take protective steps and strive to avoid them. The more secretive and clever thinking becomes, the more treachery will proliferate...
Understanding these two is a rule that holds true for both ancient and modern times and it should thus never be abandoned. The ability to understand the consistent is called 'mysterious virtue', and is, indeed, profound and far–reaching.

Professor Cheng says: Guiding the people into ignorance will eventually control cleverness. This is 'to return'. People will eventually seek out the orthodox path. Starting from the extremely difficult to finally reach the easiest and starting from the Great Opposition to finally return to the Great Confluence are formulae of Lao–tze. An 'eternal pattern' is a model which has long held true. Chapter 10 explains Profound Teh. This chapter restates that explanation.

Since the Way — true realisation of emptiness and its manifestation — far transcends anything that can be grasped by the ordinary intellect or expressed in words that do more than merely point to it like fingers pointing at the moon, knowledge is not much use. The problem with cleverness is that, since it quickly understands things within the limits of its own terms, it never really goes on to put them into practice. Surely everything that has been said in this text and the various commentaries up to now we all 'know'... But of what use is that to us if we don't put it into practice.
An old Tibetan saying points out that mere knowledge is like a patch: it comes off when we are most in need of i, and that occasional meditative experiences are like mist and fade as the day advances. All of these are the domain of 'cleverness', but — unfortunately — our cleverness, based as it is in our limited sensory apparatus and labyrinth of convictions, opinions, hopes and fears, does not reach very far.
Only those who step outside their own version of cleverness ever meet with reality face–to–face. The rest of us do all our thinking about it second hand.

How sad!

tao teh ching 64

Peace is easily maintained;
Trouble is easily overcome before it starts.
The brittle is easily shattered;
The small is easily scattered.

Deal with it before it happens.
Set things in order before there is confusion[1].

A tree as great as a man's embrace springs from a small shoot;
A terrace nine storeys high begins with a pile of earth;
A journey of a thousand miles starts under one's feet.

He who acts defeats his own purpose;
He who grasps loses.
The sage does not act, and so is not defeated.
He does not grasp, and therefore does not lose.

People usually fail when they are on the verge of success,
So give as much care to the end as to the beginning,
Then there will be no failure.

Therefore the sage seeks freedom from desire.
He does not collect precious things.
He learns not to hold onto ideas.
He brings men back to what they have lost.

He helps the ten thousand things find their own nature
But refrains from action[2].

[1] Most readings take these six lines as a unit. For example, in Lau's text we have:

It is easy to maintain a situation while it is still secure;
It is easy to deal with a situation before symptoms develop;
It is easy to break a thing when it is yet brittle;
It is easy to dissolve a thing when it is yet minute.
Deal with a thing while it is still nothing;
Put a thing in order before disorder sets in.

[2] The Ma wang tui text reads these last two lines as:

He learns not to learn and returns to what the masses pass by:
He could help all things to be natural, yet he dare not do it.

Wang Pi says:

When secure, one does not forget danger, and, in maintaining security, does not forget ruin but plans for it while it is still without effect(*).

(*) Cf. the Commentary to the Appended Phrases in the I Ching, which reads in part: 'To get into danger is a matter of thinking one's position secure; to be ruined is a matter of imagining one's continuance assured; to fall into disorder is a matter of considering one's order enduring. Therefore the noble person does not forget danger when secure, ruin when enjoying continuance, or disorder when maintaining the experience of order. Thus his person is kept secure and his state protected.'

Although such danger has detached itself from nothingness and assumed existence, because of its fragility and tininess, it still lacks the wherewithal to initiate any larger effect. Thus dealing with it is 'easy'. These four (the secure, the premanifest, the fragile and the tiny) all warn that one should be heedful of how things end. One should not fail to maintain security just because the danger of ruin doesn't exist yet. Nor should one fail to dissolve the danger of ruin simply because it is not yet of much consequence. If one fails to maintain security while danger is still non–existent, danger will take root and grow into existence within that very failure. If one fails to dissolve danger while it is still small, it will take root and expand within that failure. Thus, if one is careful about disaster as it happens in the end and as it threatens at the start, no endeavour will ever end in defeat.
Act while it is still in its premanifest state.
Control it while it is still fragile and small.
It is correct that, mindful of how things end, one eliminates tiny sprouts of danger, and that, mindful of these sprouts of danger, one eliminates disorder. However, if one attempts to bring them under control by taking intentional action and implementing set procedures or tries to take administrative action against them by using punishments and names, this will, on the contrary, provoke the start of new troubles, and cunning and stealth will proliferate. This is what is meant by 'ruined' and 'lost'.
The people are not mindful of how things end.
Though preferences and desires may be tiny, contentious tastes will arise from them. Though goods hard to come by may be insignificant, greedy thievery will arise because of them.
What one is capable of without learning is the natural. To be learned in learning results only in error.

Ch'eng Man–ching says: The first section advises acting before anything has happened and setting things in order before confusion arises. Do not imagine that a mere sprout is not an omen. That 'a journey of a thousand li starts where the feet are' means that things reach into the distance gradually and quite naturally. To act consciously and clutch at things is to court failure.
The second section simply expands upon the first. The desire of the sage is not the desire of ordinary people. He does not study what ordinary people study. 'he avoids the mistakes of ordinary people' means he avoids what they mistakenly desire and mistakenly seek after. He simply assists all thing to fulfil their natures, not daring to contrive anything else.

When do thoughts and attachments dissolve? Preferably just as they are arising... Like a child recognising its mother, one knows that 'thought' is 'emptiness' and lets it go there and then. This does not mean that the thought 'disappears' – that one stamps it out – but what does happen is that – since one knows what one is experiencing – the thought is like water pouring into water, and – like a snake undo ing its knots – simply unfolds and then turns into something else... There is nothing to hang on to or to push away... Thoughts come; and then they go... You don't have to do anything about that... But you do need to be gently aware of it...
As Ch'an Master Liao An says:

Essence is unpolluted, absolutely complete in itself.
Just detach from false mental objects,
And there is the buddha of being as is.

When deluded, you deviate from the real and pursue the false;
When enlightened, you abandon the false and return to the real.


After you've reached the point where reality and falsehood both melt
And delusion and enlightenment lodge nowhere,
Then you use up old karma according to conditions,
Trusting essence and enjoying natural reality,
Exercising kindness and compassion,
Helping out the orphaned and the unsheltered,
Forgetting subject and object, annihilating shadow and form,
Becoming a person beyond measure,
Living in a realm of experience beyond measure,
And doing work beyond measure."

This is, as a friend of mine once said, exactly '... the inside that is going outside – not at all a reaction in the opposite direction, but a new coil in the spiral. The brew has brewed and now the test in all is the drinking of it...'

As Mi–p'am Rinpoche says:

"... Even if you don't know what to meditate on,
Simply seeing it as something unattainable,
Although not as though you had thrown something away,
Is to see into the foundations of the mind.

'When you allow this, too, to remain in the realm of the unattainable,
Although there is no longer the smallest atom of concrete reality,
You possess the creativity of all–illumining knowledge,
The non–duality of reality and its intrinsic awareness inseparable.

'Nothing as such, yet it has no essence of nothingness.
Examined, there is nothing. Left to itself, it is clear and bright,
Though – like the moon's reflection in water– not to be caught by grasping for it...

'... What benefit is there in its openness and its appearing?
Who is this in which there is no duality? What is it that is to be meditated upon?
Leave it as it is in its self–settledness.'

According to our various capacities, we perceive this self–established primordial awareness beyond ordinary mentality either gradually or instantaneously.
This is where yogic practitioners burn up the seeds of birth into the various realms of being in the fires of indestructible enlightened body, speech and mind that are the innate creativity of the primordial wisdom in the heart.

As he says:

From them, the sun of support and strength blazes forth,
And, holding wisdom in their hands and putting it into practice,
In a single lifetime they realise primordial buddhahood.

I'm sure that this is so.

tao teh ching 63

Practice non–action.
Work without doing.
Taste the tasteless.
Magnify the small, increase the few[1].
Reward bitterness with care.

See simplicity in the complicated.
Achieve greatness in little things[2].

In the universe the difficult things are done as if they were easy[3].
In the universe great acts are made up of small deeds.
The sage does not attempt anything very big
And thus achieves greatness.

Easy promises make for little trust.
Taking things lightly results in great difficulty.
Because the sage always confronts difficulties[4],
He never experiences them.

[1] The Ma wang tui text has, 'Regard the small as large and the few as many'.
[2] This seems to be more generally read along the lines of 'plan for the difficult while it is still easy;/ Act on the large while it is still small'.
[3] More generally read as that things, no matter how difficult seeming, start out as easy.
[4] Again, this is more generally read as the fact of the sage's regarding things as difficult — accepting the fact that they are difficult and acting accordingly.

Wang Pi's commentary reads:

Handling matters without conscious effort (wu wei), practice the teaching that is not expressed in words and have a taste for the utterly dispassionate is the ultimate of government.

He reads the next line as: 'Deal with the small as if it were great, and deal with the few as if they were the many, but respond to resentment in terms of virtue', and comments: Minor resentment is not worth responding to, but great resentment implies something for which all under Heaven seek punishment. It is virtuous to comply with that upon which all under Heaven agree.

Thus even someone with the talent of a sage still deals with the small and easy as if they were difficulties. How much more then should this hold true for someone who does not have the talent of a sage yet desires to treat such things with disdain! This is why the text says, 'still regards them as difficulties'.

Professor Cheng has: Acting through non–action and doing without doing are like tasting the tasteless. No matter whether your injuries are great or small, many or few, repay them with kindness(Teh). In chapter 49, the text says, '...his mind merges with the world. The Sage treats everyone as his children'. Those who repay injury with kindness are also merging their minds with the world. One must plan to tackle the difficult when it is still easy and to undertake the great while it is still small, otherwise one will make light, unreliable promises ore regard things as easy, thereby creating difficulties. One should treat everything as difficult; only then will there be no difficulty at all.

'Care' is the word that springs to mind... being careful, vigilant... Putting into practice the practice on no–practice, one certainly needs to remain constantly vigilant that one has not just drifted off back into the ordinary, everyday grasping and ignorance. What is this vigilance? It is not that of a cat watching a mouse and waiting to pounce on it at the least sign of life or even no life, but it is checking back from time to time to make sure.
'Tasting the tasteless'... Accord with reality has no particular savour: it is not particularly 'nice' or 'not nice', 'easy', 'difficult', or anything else... When it is any of these, we have probably drifted and should certainly check back... Is this reification? Is this grasping–attachment? Am I showing off to myself? Am I showing off to others? What is this dragging this corpse round here anyway?...
With vigilance one does not miss that instant of inception, or, at any rate, can catch things soon after they have started and re–examine them for what they actually are. That way one 'deals with the difficult while it is still easy, and undertakes the great while it is still small'... As pointed out in hexagrams 63 and 64 of the Book of Change, the traditional image here is that of an old fox crossing ice, his ears alert for the least crack, yet never once losing track of everything that is going on in the world around him. His Holiness the dalai Lama once described meditation as just this ability to be totally concentrated on an object of contemplation (be it with or without physical or even mental form), and yet at the same time open to the entire universe... This is Guru Padmasambhava's 'attention to detail like the finest of fine–ground flour'...

There are two important points here: To find and use the simplicity in what seems difficult; and to regard what seems simple with the greatest care and attention to detail. That way, whatever comes up just unfolds of itself.

I'll be interested to see if I can pull this off myself!

.-_-.