Pages 109–120
76 Men are born soft and supple; dead, they are stiff and hard. Plants are born tender and pliant; dead, they are brittle and dry. Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death. Whoever is soft and yielding is a disciple of life. The hard and stiff will be broken. The soft and supple will prevail.
77 As it acts in the world, the Tao is like the bending of a bow. The top is bent downward; the bottom is bent up. It adjusts excess and deficiency so that there is perfect balance. It takes from what is too much and gives to what isn’t enough. Those who try to control, who use force to protect their power, go against the direction of the Tao. They take from those who don’t have enough and give to those who have far too much. The Master can keep giving because there is no end to her wealth. She acts without expectation, succeeds without taking credit,
and doesn’t think that she is better than anyone else.
78 Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it. The soft overcomes the hard; the gentle overcomes the rigid. Everyone knows this is true, but few can put it into practice. Therefore the Master remains serene in the midst of sorrow. Evil cannot enter his heart. Because he has given up helping, he is people’s greatest help. True words seem paradoxical.
79 Failure is an opportunity. If you blame someone else, there is no end to the blame. Therefore the Master fulfills her own obligations and corrects her own mistakes. She does what she needs to do and demands nothing of others.
80 If a country is governed wisely, its inhabitants will be content. They enjoy the labor of their hands and don’t waste time inventing labor-saving machines. Since they dearly love their homes, they aren’t interested in travel. There may be a few wagons and boats, but these don’t go anywhere. There may be an arsenal of weapons, but nobody ever uses them. People enjoy their food, take pleasure in being with their families, spend weekends working in their gardens, delight in the doings of the neighborhood. And even though the next country is so close that people can hear its roosters crowing and
its dogs barking, they are content to die of old age without ever having gone to see it.
81 True words aren’t eloquent; eloquent words aren’t true. Wise men don’t need to prove their point; men who need to prove their point aren’t wise. The Master has no possessions. The more he does for others, the happier he is. The more he gives to others, the wealthier he is. The Tao nourishes by not forcing. By not dominating, the Master leads.
Notes CHAPTER 1 Describing the indescribable, teaching the unteachable, pointing the way to the Way—what does Lao-tzu think he is doing here? It can’t be done. No way. Hence Po Chü-i, poet and stand-up comedian, wrote, “He who talks doesn’t know, he who knows doesn’t talk”: that is what Lao-tzu told us, in a book of five thousand words. If he was the one who knew, how could he have been such a blabbermouth? That’s the problem with spiritual teachers. They have to be blabbermouths. But their words are (in the traditional Buddhist metaphor) fingers pointing at the moon; if you watch the finger, you can’t see the moon. How meticulous the great Masters had to be! A monk asked Ma-tsu, “Why do you teach, ‘Mind is Buddha’?” Ma-tsu said, “To stop a baby from crying.”
The monk said, “When the crying has stopped, what then?” Ma-tsu said, “Then I teach, ‘Not mind, not Buddha.’” The monk said, “How about someone who isn’t attached to either?” Ma-tsu said, “I would tell him, ‘Not beings.’” The monk said, “And what if you met a man unattached to all things: what would you tell him?” Ma-tsu said, “I would just let him experience the great Tao.” In fact, the truth is right before our eyes; right under our noses; so simple that every child understands it; and yet, as Bankei said, the farther you enter into it, the deeper it is. Where is the way to the Way? What a question! Still, for complicated minds, drastic measures are needed. Lao-tzu’s book was written as a response, out of grandmotherly kindness. According to the oldest biography, Lao-tzu lived for a long time in the country of Chou, but seeing its decline he departed. When he reached the frontier, the guard said, “Since you are going away, Sir, could you write a book to teach me the art of living?” Thereupon Lao-tzu wrote his book about the Tao, and departed. This is legend, but it is an accurate description of the way in which true teaching happens. He who knows doesn’t talk, but words are no hindrance for him. He uses them as he would use gardening tools. When someone asks, he answers. The tao that can be told / is not the eternal Tao: The text reads, “The tao that can be tao-ed [one meaning of tao being ‘to express’] / is not the eternal Tao.” Other possible renderings: “The way that can be weighed / is not the eternal Way,” “The force that can be forced / is not the eternal Force.”
you realize the mystery: Infinitely marvelous, yet as ordinary as sunlight. Impossible to know, yet as easy as touching your nose when you wash your face. This source is called darkness: Because none of our senses can perceive it. It is also called “light,” because the less we obstruct it, the more radiant we are. The gateway to all understanding: In order to understand, we have to remain in the darkness of not-knowing. CHAPTER 2 acts without doing anything: Her actions are appropriate responses. Thus they are effortless. She embodies compassion, yet she doesn’t try to be compassionate. She doesn’t struggle to make money, yet she enjoys spending it when it comes to her. She goes her own way, yet she accepts help gratefully and has no pride in walking alone. She is not elated by praise, not discouraged by neglect. She doesn’t give even a moment’s thought to right or wrong. She never has to make a decision; decisions arise by themselves. She is like an actress who loves her role. The Tao is writing the script. teaches without saying anything: The way she buys oranges or ties her shoelaces is a teaching. Her face is more eloquent than any scripture could be. That is why it lasts forever: Not in time and space, but in quality. CHAPTER 3 emptying people’s minds: He empties them of concepts, judgments, and desires. Thus they can return to a state of childlike simplicity. filling their cores: He fills them with a sense of their original identity. Thus they can return to a state of joy.
weakening their ambition: When they have no false self to nourish or defend, they find that greed, hatred, and arrogance vanish by themselves. toughening their resolve: Their innermost intention. They develop enough self-reliance to give up the idea of self. CHAPTER 4 Following Ch’en Ku-ying, I have deleted the second stanza of the Chinese text, which seems to be an interpolation from chapter 56. It is older than God: There is no God when there is nothing but God. CHAPTER 5 The Tao doesn’t take sides; / it gives birth to both good and evil: Literally, “Heaven and earth are impartial; they treat all things like straw dogs,” as the Master “treats all people like straw dogs,” Straw dogs were ritual objects, venerated before the ceremony but afterward abandoned and trampled underfoot. The point here is not that the Tao is cruel to things, nor that the Master is ruthless with people, but that they are impartial. The Master sees all beings arising from the same source, working out their karma (usually with great suffering), and returning to the source. And since people are in constant flux, she understands that at any moment they are capable of the most astonishing spiritual transformations. Why should she pin them motionless with a judgment of “good” or “bad”? CHAPTER 6 First stanza: Literally, “The spirit of the valley never dies. It is called the mysterious female. The gate of the mysterious female is the root of heaven and earth.” Chu Hsi said, “The female is one who receives something and, with it, creates. This creative principle is the most marvelous thing in the