解老

Virtue (de) pertains to the inner; attainment (de) pertains to the outer. 'The highest virtue does not consider itself virtuous' -- this means that the spirit does not dissipate outward. When the spirit does not dissipate outward, the self is preserved whole. The wholeness of the self -- this is called virtue. Virtue means attaining the self.

All virtue is gathered through non-action, completed through absence of desire, made secure through not-thinking, and made firm through not-using. If one acts upon it and desires it, then virtue has no resting place; without a resting place, it is not whole. If one employs it and thinks upon it, it is not firm; not being firm, it has no effect; having no effect, it arises from virtue. To be virtuous is to be without virtue; to be without virtue is to have virtue. Therefore Laozi says: 'The highest virtue does not consider itself virtuous -- therefore it has virtue.'

The reason non-action and non-thinking are valued as emptiness is that the mind is constrained by nothing. Those without technique (of governance) deliberately adopt non-action and non-thinking as emptiness. But when one deliberately adopts non-action and non-thinking as emptiness, one's mind constantly remembers to be empty -- and this is to be constrained by the effort of emptiness. Emptiness means the mind is constrained by nothing. To be constrained by the effort of emptiness is precisely not to be empty.

The non-action of true emptiness does not take non-action as a fixed constant. When one does not take non-action as a fixed constant, then there is emptiness. With emptiness, virtue flourishes; flourishing virtue is the highest virtue. Therefore Laozi says: 'The highest virtue acts without acting, and nothing is left undone.'

Benevolence means that one's inner heart is joyfully moved to love others; that one delights in others' good fortune and grieves at others' misfortune. It arises from the heart and cannot be suppressed, and does not seek repayment. Therefore Laozi says: 'The highest benevolence acts, yet has no ulterior purpose.'

Righteousness pertains to the relations between ruler and minister, superior and inferior; the distinctions between father and son, noble and humble; the interactions among acquaintances and friends; and the divisions between intimate and distant, inner and outer. That a minister serves his ruler is proper; that an inferior cherishes his superior is proper; that a son serves his father is proper; that the humble respect the noble is proper; that acquaintances and friends assist one another is proper; that the intimate are kept close and the distant kept at a remove is proper. Righteousness means propriety -- acting because it is proper. Therefore Laozi says: 'The highest righteousness acts, and has a purpose in doing so.'

Ritual is the outward expression of feeling, the literary adornment of collective righteousness, the medium of exchange between ruler and minister, father and son, and the means by which noble and humble, worthy and unworthy are distinguished. When the heart holds something but cannot convey it, one hastens and bows low to make it manifest. When one truly loves but the other does not know it, one uses fair words and elaborate speech to make it believed. Ritual is the external adornment by which the inner is made intelligible. Therefore it is said: ritual gives outward form to feeling.

When ordinary people perform ritual to honor others, their commitment waxes and wanes. The gentleman performs ritual for his own sake; because it is for his own sake, it becomes spiritual -- and this constitutes the highest ritual. But the highest ritual is spiritual, and common people are of two minds about it; thus they cannot respond in kind. Because they cannot respond, Laozi says: 'The highest ritual acts, and none respond to it.' Though common people are of two minds, the sage does not slacken in his respectful devotion and the full performance of ritual. Therefore Laozi says: 'He bares his arm and insists upon it.'

The Way accumulates, and accumulation produces merit. Virtue is the merit of the Way. Merit has substance, and substance has radiance. Benevolence is the radiance of virtue. Radiance has luster, and luster has affairs. Righteousness is the affair of benevolence. Affairs have ritual, and ritual has ornamentation. Ritual is the ornamentation of righteousness.

Therefore Laozi says: 'Losing the Way comes before losing virtue; losing virtue comes before losing benevolence; losing benevolence comes before losing righteousness; losing righteousness comes before losing ritual.'

Ritual gives outward form to feeling; ornamentation is the embellishment of substance. The gentleman takes the feeling and discards the form, values substance and disdains embellishment. One who relies on appearances to judge the feelings within -- his feelings must be base. One who needs embellishment before substance can be assessed -- his substance must be in decline.

How do we know this? The jade disc of He is not adorned with the five colors; the pearl of Lord Sui is not set in silver and gold. Their substance is of the highest beauty; no decoration is sufficient to improve them. Things that require decoration before they can be valued -- their substance is not beautiful.

Thus between father and son, the ritual is simple and unelaborated. Therefore it is said: 'The principle is thin.' In general, things do not flourish simultaneously -- as with yin and yang. Principles compete to displace one another -- as with authority and virtue. Where substance is thick, appearances are thin -- as with the ritual between father and son.

Viewed from this perspective, where ritual is elaborate, genuine feeling has declined. Those who perform ritual are engaged in reaching the simple hearts of others. When common people perform ritual and others respond, they feel casual delight; when others do not respond, they resent and blame. Now, ritual practitioners seek to reach people's simple hearts while furnishing them with grounds for mutual blame -- can there be no contention? Where there is contention, there is disorder. Therefore Laozi says: 'Ritual is the thin veneer of loyalty and trust, and the beginning of disorder.'

To act before things take shape and move before principles manifest -- this is called foreknowledge. Foreknowledge is baseless and reckless conjecture.

How do we know this? Zhan He sat with his disciples attending him. A cow lowed outside the gate. A disciple said, 'That is a black cow with a white forehead.' Zhan He said, 'Indeed, it is a black cow -- but the white is on its horns.' Someone was sent to look: it was indeed a black cow with cloth wrapped around its horns.

To apply Zhan He's technique to the minds of common people would be a dazzling but perilous thing! Therefore Laozi says: 'It is the flower of the Way.' But suppose we set aside Zhan He's perceptiveness and send a five-foot-tall foolish child to look -- the child too would know it was a black cow with cloth wrapped around its horns. Thus Zhan He, with all his perceptiveness, tormented his mind and exhausted his spirit, only to achieve the same result as a five-foot-tall foolish child.

This is why Laozi says: 'It is the beginning of folly.' Therefore: 'Foreknowledge is the flower of the Way, and the beginning of folly.'

When a person faces misfortune, his heart becomes fearful and vigilant. When fearful and vigilant, his conduct becomes upright. When his conduct is upright, his deliberations become thorough. When his deliberations are thorough, he grasps the principles of affairs. When his conduct is upright, he avoids calamity; avoiding calamity, he lives out his natural span. When he grasps the principles of affairs, he will surely succeed. Living out his natural span, he is whole and long-lived. Surely succeeding, he attains wealth and honor. Wholeness, longevity, wealth, and honor -- this is called fortune. And fortune has its origin in misfortune. Therefore Laozi says: 'Misfortune -- fortune leans upon it.' It is through misfortune that achievement is completed.

When a person enjoys fortune, wealth and honor arrive. When wealth and honor arrive, clothing and food become fine. When clothing and food become fine, arrogance arises in the heart. When arrogance arises, conduct becomes deviant and actions abandon principle. When conduct is deviant, one dies a premature death. When actions abandon principle, nothing is achieved. To suffer premature death within and lack the name of achievement without -- this is great misfortune. And this misfortune has its origin in fortune. Therefore Laozi says: 'Fortune -- misfortune lurks within it.'

The Way is that by which all things are as they are, and that against which all principles are verified. Principle is the pattern by which things are completed; the Way is that by which all things come into being. Therefore it is said: 'The Way is what orders principle.'

Each thing has its principle and cannot encroach upon another; because things have principles and cannot encroach upon one another, principle serves as the governing measure of things. The myriad things each have different principles; the myriad things each have different principles, yet the Way encompasses them all.

Verifying the principles of all things, the Way cannot but transform; unable to avoid transformation, it has no fixed operation. Having no fixed operation, life and death receive their vital endowments from it, all wisdom is measured against it, and all affairs rise and fall by it.

Heaven attains it and thereby is high; Earth attains it and thereby stores all things. The Dipper attains it and thereby establishes its authority; the sun and moon attain it and thereby maintain their light. The Five Constants attain it and thereby hold their positions; the arrayed stars attain it and thereby keep their courses. The four seasons attain it and thereby govern their changing airs. The Yellow Emperor attained it and thereby commanded the four quarters; the Red Pine Master attained it and thereby was unified with Heaven and Earth; the sages attained it and thereby created civilization.

The Way: with Yao and Shun it is wise; with Jieyu it is mad; with Jie and Zhou it is destroyed; with Tang and Wu it is glorious. Consider it near -- it roams to the four extremities. Consider it far -- it is always at my side. Consider it dark -- its light is radiant. Consider it bright -- its substance is obscure. Its achievement completes Heaven and Earth; its harmony transforms like thunder. All things within the cosmos depend upon it to come into being.

The true nature of the Way: it imposes no constraints and assumes no form; soft and yielding, it follows the times, responding in accordance with principle. All things attain it and thereby die, attain it and thereby live. All affairs attain it and thereby fail, attain it and thereby succeed.

The Way may be compared to water: the drowning man drinks too much and dies; the thirsty man drinks the right amount and lives. It may be compared to swords and halberds: the fool uses them in rage and disaster arises; the sage uses them to punish the violent and fortune is achieved. Thus one attains it and dies, attains it and lives; attains it and fails, attains it and succeeds.

People rarely see living elephants; they obtain the bones of dead elephants, examine diagrams of them, and imagine them alive. Therefore whatever people form mental images of is called 'image' (xiang). Now the Way cannot be heard or seen, but the sage grasps its visible effects to perceive its form. Therefore Laozi says: 'The form of the formless, the image of the thing-less.'

Principle comprises the distinctions of square and round, short and long, coarse and fine, hard and brittle. Therefore only when principle is determined can the Way be apprehended. Yet things with determined principles undergo existence and extinction, life and death, flourishing and decline. Things that now exist and now are gone, that suddenly live and suddenly die, that first flourish and later decline -- these cannot be called 'constant.'

Only that which was born together with the separation of Heaven and Earth, and which neither dies nor declines when Heaven and Earth dissolve -- this is called 'the constant.' The constant has nothing that changes, no fixed principle. Having no fixed principle, it is not located in any fixed place. Therefore it cannot be spoken of.

The sage observes its profound emptiness and employs its universal operation, and forcibly gives it the character 'Way' -- and only then can it be discussed. Therefore Laozi says: 'The Way that can be spoken of is not the constant Way.'

Human life begins at birth and ends at death. Beginning is called 'emerging'; ending is called 'entering.' Therefore Laozi says: 'Emerging into life, entering into death.'

The human body has three hundred and sixty joints; the four limbs and nine orifices are its major components. The four limbs and nine orifices make thirteen; these thirteen, in their motion and rest, all belong to life. 'Belonging' is what is meant by 'followers.' Therefore it is said: the followers of life number thirteen.

At death, the thirteen components all return and belong to death; the followers of death also number thirteen. Therefore Laozi says: 'The followers of life are thirteen; the followers of death are thirteen.'

In general, people live their lives in harmonious stability through movement. When movement is exhausted, there is depletion. When movement does not cease, depletion does not cease. When depletion does not cease, life is exhausted. When life is exhausted, that is called death -- and the thirteen components all become grounds for death. Therefore Laozi says: 'People live their lives, and in living they move; and all their movements lead them to the ground of death -- these too are thirteen.'

For this reason the sage cherishes his vital spirit and values dwelling in stillness. Failure to cherish one's vital spirit and value stillness -- this is a danger far greater than rhinoceroses and tigers.

Rhinoceroses and tigers have their territories, and their movements follow fixed times. Avoid their territories and observe their schedules, and one is free from the danger of rhinoceroses and tigers. Yet people know only that rhinoceroses and tigers have claws and horns, and do not realize that all things have their own claws and horns -- thus they cannot escape harm from all things.

How do we know this? When seasonal rains gather and the open wilderness seems quiet, one who traverses mountains and rivers at dusk and dawn is harmed by the claws and horns of wind and dew. One who serves superiors disloyally and carelessly violates prohibitions is harmed by the claws and horns of punishments and law. One who dwells in the community without restraint, with hatred and affection knowing no measure, is harmed by the claws and horns of strife and conflict. One whose appetites and desires know no limit, whose activity and rest follow no measure, is harmed by the claws and horns of boils and sores. One who insists on employing private cleverness while abandoning the Way and principle is harmed by the claws and horns of nets and snares.

Rhinoceroses and tigers have their territories, and all harms have their sources. Avoid their territories and block their sources, and one is free from all harm.

Armor and weapons exist to guard against harm. One who values life, even when entering an army, harbors no belligerent heart. With no belligerent heart, there is no occasion to use defensive equipment. This does not apply only to armies in the field. When the sage journeys through the world, he harbors no intent to harm others. With no intent to harm, there will assuredly be no one who harms him. With no one to harm him, he need not guard against others.

Therefore Laozi says: 'Traveling on land, he does not encounter rhinoceroses or tigers.' Entering the mountains without special preparations against harm, therefore: 'Entering an army, he wears no armor or weapons.' Far removed from all harm, therefore: 'The rhinoceros has nowhere to thrust its horn, the tiger has nowhere to plant its claw, weapons have nowhere to lodge their blades.' To set up no defenses yet assuredly suffer no harm -- this is the principle of Heaven and Earth. To embody the Way of Heaven and Earth: therefore Laozi says 'There is no ground of death.' To move without entering the ground of death -- this is what is called 'being skilled at preserving life.'

One who loves a child is compassionate toward the child; one who values life is compassionate toward the self; one who prizes achievement is compassionate toward affairs.

A compassionate mother, with regard to her young child, devotes herself to securing its fortune. Devoting herself to its fortune, she works to remove its misfortunes. Working to remove misfortune, her deliberations become thorough. With thorough deliberation, she grasps the principles of affairs. Grasping the principles, she will surely succeed. Succeeding surely, she acts without hesitation. Acting without hesitation -- this is called courage.

The sage regards all affairs exactly as a compassionate mother deliberates for her young child. Therefore he perceives the path of sure success. Perceiving the path of sure success, he too undertakes affairs without hesitation. Acting without hesitation -- this is called courage. Courage arises from compassion. Therefore Laozi says: 'Compassion -- therefore one can be courageous.'

The Duke of Zhou said: 'If winter's freezing closure is not firm, then spring and summer's growth of plants and trees will not flourish.' If Heaven and Earth cannot always expend lavishly, how much less can human beings?

Therefore all things must have their flourishing and decline; all affairs must have their relaxation and tension; states must have their civil and military aspects; governance must have its rewards and punishments. Thus the wise man uses his wealth frugally and his household grows rich; the sage cherishes his spirit and his vitality flourishes; the ruler values his soldiers' lives and the people grow numerous. When the people are numerous, the state is broad. Therefore Laozi says: 'Frugality -- therefore one can be broad.'

Whatever has form is easy to cut and easy to carve. How do we know? If it has form, it has short and long; having short and long, it has small and large; having small and large, it has square and round; having square and round, it has hard and brittle; having hard and brittle, it has light and heavy; having light and heavy, it has white and black. Short and long, small and large, square and round, hard and brittle, light and heavy, white and black -- these are called principles. When principles are determined, things are easy to deal with.

Therefore one who deliberates in the great court and speaks only afterward finds his words established -- the strategists know this. Thus if one wishes to create squares and circles by following the compass and square, the achievements of all affairs will take shape. All things have their compass and square; the strategist calculates the compass and square of affairs.

The sage follows entirely the compass and square of all things. Therefore Laozi says: 'He does not dare to be first in All-Under-Heaven.' Not daring to be first in All-Under-Heaven, there is no affair he cannot manage, no achievement he cannot accomplish. His counsel will assuredly surpass the age -- could he wish to avoid holding high office? Holding high office is what is meant by being 'the leader of accomplished affairs.' Therefore Laozi says: 'Not daring to be first in All-Under-Heaven -- therefore he can be the leader of accomplished affairs.'

One who is compassionate toward a child does not dare cut off its clothing and food. One who is compassionate toward the self does not dare depart from laws and standards. One who is compassionate toward squares and circles does not dare abandon the compass and square.

Thus one who faces battle with compassion for his soldiers and officers will defeat the enemy in war. One who is compassionate toward weapons and fortifications will hold cities firm and strong. Therefore Laozi says: 'Compassion -- in attack it brings victory; in defense it brings strength.'

One who can preserve himself whole while following entirely the principles of all things will assuredly possess what Heaven generates. What Heaven generates is the living heart -- thus the Way of All-Under-Heaven gives it life completely. If one guards it with compassion, affairs will be infallibly secure, and no action will be inappropriate. This is what is called a treasure. Therefore Laozi says: 'I have three treasures; I hold and treasure them.'

What the text calls 'the great Way' means the correct path. What it calls 'bypath roads' means the deviant path. What it calls 'the shortcuts are fine' means splendor and beauty. Splendor and beauty are branches of the deviant path.

'The court is utterly swept clean' means lawsuits and litigation are rampant. When lawsuits are rampant, the fields lie fallow. When fields lie fallow, the granaries are empty. When granaries are empty, the state is impoverished. When the state is impoverished, the customs of the people become licentious and extravagant. When customs become licentious and extravagant, the occupations of clothing and food are abandoned. When the occupations of clothing and food are abandoned, the people cannot help but adorn themselves with cunning and deceit. When they master cunning and deceit, they learn to appreciate finery -- learning to appreciate finery is what is meant by 'wearing embroidered garments.'

When lawsuits are rampant and granaries empty, and licentious extravagance becomes customary, the wound to the state is as if it were stabbed with a sharp sword. Therefore Laozi says: 'Wearing sharp swords.' Those who adorn themselves with cleverness and thereby wound the state invariably enrich their private households. Since their households are invariably rich, therefore: 'Possessing goods and wealth in surplus.'

When a state has such people, the common folk cannot help but copy their methods; when they copy them, petty theft arises. From this we see: when great villainy acts, petty theft follows; when great villainy leads, petty theft harmonizes. The reed-organ (yu) is the leader of the five tones -- when the reed-organ leads, bells and zithers all follow; when the reed-organ sounds, all instruments harmonize. Now when great villainy acts, the common folk follow; when the common folk follow, petty thieves must harmonize.

Therefore: 'To wear embroidered garments, carry sharp swords, gorge on food and drink, and possess goods and wealth in surplus -- this is called the robber's reed-organ.'

When craftsmen frequently change their trade, they lose their skill. When workers are frequently relocated, they forfeit their achievements. If one worker loses half a day's work per day, in ten days the loss equals five workers' output. If ten thousand workers each lose half a day per day, in ten days the loss equals fifty thousand workers' output. Thus the more numerous the people who frequently change their trade, the greater the loss.

Whenever laws and orders are changed, the balance of benefit and harm shifts. When the balance shifts, the people's occupations change. When the people's occupations change, this is called 'changing their trade.'

Therefore, viewed in terms of principle: if one manages a great multitude and frequently agitates them, little will be accomplished. If one stores a great vessel and frequently moves it, it will often be damaged. If one cooks a small fish and frequently stirs it, it will be ruined. If one governs a great state and frequently changes the law, the people will suffer.

Thus the ruler who possesses the Way values stillness and does not lightly change the law. Therefore Laozi says: 'Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish.'

When people are ill, they value physicians; when in trouble, they fear ghosts. When a sage rules above, the people have few desires. When the people have few desires, their vital energies are regulated and their actions are principled. When actions are principled, there is little calamity. Those who suffer neither internal afflictions of boils, ulcers, and hemorrhoids, nor the external calamities of punishments and legal executions -- such people treat ghosts with great indifference.

Therefore Laozi says: 'When the Way governs All-Under-Heaven, the ghosts lose their spiritual power.' The people of a well-governed age do not suffer harm from ghosts and spirits. Therefore: 'It is not that the ghosts are not spiritual; their spiritual power does not harm people.'

When ghosts haunt and cause illness in people, this is called 'ghosts harming people.' When people drive out and expel ghosts, this is called 'people harming ghosts.' When the people violate the laws, this is called 'the people harming the ruler.' When the ruler punishes and executes the people, this is called 'the ruler harming the people.'

When the people do not violate the law, the ruler need not impose punishments. When the ruler does not impose punishments, this is called 'the ruler does not harm the people.' Therefore: 'The sage too does not harm the people.' The ruler and people do not harm each other, and people and ghosts do not injure each other. Therefore: 'The two do not harm each other.'

When the people dare not violate the law, the ruler internally does not employ punishments and externally does not interfere with their livelihoods. When the ruler does not employ punishments or interfere with livelihoods, the people multiply and prosper. When the people multiply, prosper, and accumulate wealth -- this is called 'having virtue.' When ghosts do not haunt people, their souls do not depart and their spirits are not disordered. Spirits not disordered -- this is called 'having virtue.' When the ruler's stores are full and ghosts do not disorder the people's spirits, then virtue resides entirely with the people.

Therefore: 'When the two do not harm each other, virtue converges upon both.' This means that virtue flourishes above and below and converges upon the people.

A ruler who possesses the Way harbors no enmity toward neighboring states abroad and bestows virtuous beneficence upon the people within. Having no enmity abroad means treating other lords with ritual propriety. Bestowing beneficence upon the people means attending to fundamental affairs in governance.

When other lords are treated with propriety, military campaigns are seldom launched. When governance attends to fundamentals, licentiousness and extravagance cease. In general, the chief uses of horses are supplying the military abroad and serving extravagance within. A ruler who possesses the Way seldom employs the military abroad and prohibits extravagance within. Above, the ruler does not use horses for battle and pursuit; below, the people do not use horses for trafficking in luxury goods. All accumulated effort goes to the fields. With effort concentrated on the fields, there will surely be manuring and irrigation.

Therefore Laozi says: 'When All-Under-Heaven has the Way, war horses are turned back to fertilize the fields.'

When the ruler lacks the Way, internally he brutalizes his people and externally he invades his neighbors. Internal brutality depletes the people's livelihood; external aggression requires frequent mobilization. When livelihood is depleted, livestock dwindle; when mobilization is frequent, soldiers are exhausted. When livestock dwindle, war horses are scarce; when soldiers are exhausted, the army is in peril. When war horses are scarce, the generals' personal horses are requisitioned. When the army is in peril, the ruler's close attendants are pressed into service. Horses are the army's chief resource; 'suburbs' indicates what is near at hand. Now the supplies for the army must come from the generals' horses and the ruler's attendants.

Therefore Laozi says: 'When All-Under-Heaven lacks the Way, war horses are born in the suburbs.'

When a person has desires, his calculations become disordered. When calculations are disordered and desire grows intense, the deviant heart prevails. When the deviant heart prevails, the thread of affairs is severed. When the thread of affairs is severed, calamity arises.

Viewed thus, calamity arises from the deviant heart, and the deviant heart is seduced by desirable things. Desirable things, when they advance, teach good people to become villains; when they retreat, they cause decent people to suffer disaster. When villainy arises, it encroaches upon and weakens the ruler above. When disaster strikes, the people below suffer greatly. Thus desirable things encroach upon the ruler above and harm the people below. To encroach upon the ruler and harm the people -- this is a great crime.

Therefore Laozi says: 'No disaster is greater than desirable things.' For this reason, the sage does not pursue the five colors and does not indulge in music and song. The enlightened ruler disdains playthings and eliminates licentious finery.

Human beings have no fur or feathers; without clothing, they cannot withstand the cold. Above they are not joined to Heaven, below they are not rooted in Earth; with intestines and stomach as their foundation, without food they cannot survive. Thus they cannot be free of the desire for profit. But when the desire for profit is not removed, the self is burdened with worry.

Therefore the sage is content with clothing sufficient to withstand the cold and food sufficient to fill the stomach, and has no worry. Common people are otherwise: whether great lords or small holders of a thousand pieces of gold, their worry about what they desire to obtain never ceases. Convict laborers may be freed; those condemned to death may sometimes be spared. But for those who do not know sufficiency, their worry is never relieved in a lifetime.

Therefore Laozi says: 'No disaster is greater than not knowing sufficiency.'

When the desire for profit exceeds worry, illness arises. When illness arises, wisdom declines. When wisdom declines, one loses one's measure. Losing measure, one acts recklessly. Acting recklessly, calamity arrives. When calamity arrives and illness afflicts the body within, there is pain; when disaster presses from without, there is suffering. When pain and suffering mingle in the bowels, the injury to the person is grievous. Being grievously injured, one withdraws and blames oneself -- and this self-blame originates in the desire for profit.

Therefore Laozi says: 'No misery is more grievous than the desire for profit.'

Whether foolish or wise, all people have preferences and aversions. In a state of calm detachment and peaceful stability, all know the sources of fortune and misfortune. Only when ensnared by likes and dislikes, startled by seductive things, do they become confused and disordered. The reason is that they are drawn by external things and disordered by playthings and fancies.

Calm detachment possesses the principle of sound preferences; peaceful stability knows the calculation of fortune and misfortune. Yet playthings alter them, and external things draw them away. Being drawn away -- this is called 'uprooted.' But the sage is not so. Once he establishes his preferences, though he sees desirable things, they cannot draw him away. Being unable to be drawn -- this is called 'not uprooted.' Once he settles his disposition, though there are desirable things, his spirit is not moved. The spirit not being moved -- this is called 'not detached.'

Those who are descendants, if they embody this Way to guard the ancestral temple, and the temple is never destroyed -- this is called 'sacrifices never ceasing.'

For the self, accumulated vital essence constitutes virtue. For the household, accumulated wealth constitutes virtue. For the village, the state, and All-Under-Heaven, the people constitute virtue.

Now, when one cultivates the self and external things cannot disorder the vital spirit: therefore Laozi says, 'Cultivate it in the self, and virtue will be genuine.' Genuine means secure through careful attention. When one manages the household and useless things cannot alter one's calculations, then wealth will be in surplus: therefore, 'Cultivate it in the household, and virtue will be in surplus.' When one governs the village by this standard, households in surplus will increase: therefore, 'Cultivate it in the village, and virtue will be lasting.' When one governs the state by this standard, villages of virtue will increase: therefore, 'Cultivate it in the state, and virtue will be abundant.' When one presides over All-Under-Heaven by this standard, all living people will receive its beneficence: therefore, 'Cultivate it in All-Under-Heaven, and virtue will be universal.'

One who cultivates the self distinguishes gentlemen from petty men by this standard. One who governs villages, states, or All-Under-Heaven uses this criterion to observe prosperity and decline -- and will not err once in ten thousand cases.

Therefore Laozi says: 'Observe the self through the self; observe the household through the household; observe the village through the village; observe the state through the state; observe All-Under-Heaven through All-Under-Heaven. How do I know that All-Under-Heaven is so? By this.'