Dao De Jing as a guide to Daoist Meditation, Part 6

By Tom Bisio, Internal Arts International 

Parts 1-5 can be found below, begging with August, 2025

Part 6:

In this sixth part of a series of posts that examine the Dao De Jing as a guide to Daoist Meditation, the analysis of these chapters leans heavily on He Shang Gong’s (Ho Shang Kung) commentary on the text. He Shang Gong’s chapter headings read like instructions or guideposts for the practice of Daoist meditation, a bit like a “how to” book. In this post we look at Chapter 12: How to keep Off Desires  and Chapter 15: How to Display Te

Unless otherwise indicated all Dao De Jing quotes are from: Ho-Shang-Kung’s Commentary on Lao-Tse, translated and annotated by Eduard Erkes. Switzerland: Press of Artibus Asiae Ascona (First published in Journal Artibus Saiae 1950). I highly recommend this translation and commentary if you can obtain a copy.

Chapter 12: How to Keep Off Desires

The five colours make men’s eyes blind.

The five notes make man’s ear deaf,

The five tastes cause man’s mouth to lose

Chasing and hunting makes men’s hearts go mad.

Treasures difficult to obtain make man’s behavior hurtful

Therefore the saint takes care of his belly.

He does not take care of his eyes.

Therefore he flees this and chooses that.

In earlier chapters, the text and commentary told us that when feelings and desires are diminished, the five organs and their spirits are quieted and one reaches a place of stillness and emptiness. Then the Jing, the Qi and Breath, and the spirits are harmonious. For most people, the eyes are the dominant sense receptors. Therefore, our visual senses have a powerful effect on us and easily distract us. Striving for beauty, emphasizing visual stimulation, damages the spirits. Craving sounds and music, prevents the heart from listening to the “sounds of soundlessness.”[1] In order to nourish the spirits, one should look within (to Dantian) and at the powers within oneself, rather than be diverted by external pleasures and delights. This does not mean we should not look and hear and move and taste.

The eyes can’t help seeing and the ears can’t help hearing and the mouth can’t help tasting and the mind can’t help thinking and the body can’t help acting. They can’t stay still. But if we let them move without leaving stillness behind, nothing can harm us. Those who are buried by the dust of the senses or who crave sensory stimulation lose their way.[2]

This passage has much congruency with the teachings of Ma Dan Yang, a 12th century Daoist master who told his disciples that the most important practice is “nourishing Qi.”

Even if songs and lyrics sing about dragon and tiger, Child and Maiden, these are simply words. Therefore, if you long for the wondrousness of the Dao, nothing is better than nourishing qi. But people drift and drown in profit and reputation and in the process squander and ruin their qi. Those who study the Dao do not concern themselves with anything other than nourishing qi. Now, if the ye-fluids in the heart descend and the qi in the kidneys ascends, eventually reaching the spleen, and the enlivening influence of original qi is not dispersed, then the elixir will coalesce. The liver and lungs are pathways through which [the fluids and qi] come and go. If you practice stillness for a long time, you yourself will know this. If you do not nourish qi, even if you carry Mount Tai under your arm and leap beyond the Northern Sea, this is not the Dao.”[3]

Therefore the saint takes care of his belly. He does not take care of his eyes. He flees the incorrect, distracting use of the eyes and instead looks inward, focusing his attention and his “gaze” on the internal energies in Dantian and Mingmen. This references the importance of meditation and of looking, listening and sensing inward rather than outward. Daoist scholar Louis Komjathy comments on the passage from Ma Dan Yang (about nourishing Qi) as follows:

Nourishing qi is accomplished, first and foremost, by sealing oneself off from every source of dissipation. By sitting in silent meditation, emptying and stilling excess emotional and intellectual activity, one begins to return to one’s original condition of energetic aliveness and integration. One is no longer swayed by concerns with profit and reputation. The above passage suggests that the cultivation of stillness and concentration on the lower elixir field initiates an inner alchemical process. It is unclear if there are specific neidan techniques being employed, but Ma does suggest that actual practice must supersede discourse and concern over esoteric technical language. Through consistent meditative praxis, the adept will gain direct experience with shifts in his or her psychosomatic condition. This involves the descent of fluids from the heart and the ascent of qi from the kidneys, which eventually leads to original qi becoming complete and the elixir of immortality forming. It also results in orb [the organs and their global interconnections] harmony and a general state of well-being.[4]

Dao De Jing Chapter 15: How to Display Te

Those of yore who ably were masters

[Where] subtle, and mysterious [thus] penetrating the dark one.

The depth cannot be fathomed

Now as it cannot be fathomed, therefore I endeavor to make it accessible.

Cautious like crossing a stream in winter.

Suspicious like afraid of the four neighbors.

Reticent like a guest.

Dissolving like ice that is going to melt

Simple like unworked wood.

Empty like a valley.

Muddy, o, like turbid water.

Turbid water by being quieted gradually becomes clear.

The quiet by moving it gradually becomes quickened

Who keeps this Tao does not want fullness.

Now who is without fullness, is thereby able become worn out without being newly mended.

The first four lines of the text tells us that those who obtain the Dao (saints/sages/immortals) had inner natures that were subtle, abstruse, mysterious, penetrating – too deep to be understood. Because they cannot be understood we can only observe them as they appear to the outside world.

Early Daoists were often recluses who escaped or fled society to dwell in the mountains and forests, thereby avoiding the evils and distractions of the human world. However, it is hard to remain aloof from the world while living in it, and as the world and events are complex, no matter how well one hides, there are always things that cannot be avoided – in these cases fleeing and escaping does not work. As it says in the Zhuangzi: to leave off making footprints is easy, never to walk on the ground is hard.[5] In the Dao De Jing, Lao Zi attempts to reveal the laws underlying the changes of things. By understanding these changes and regulating one’s actions in conformity with them, the sage can still live in the world and turn events to one’s advantage.[6]

In affairs and undertakings one (the sage) should cautious and aware of the difficulty, proceeding slowly and meticulously – like crossing a stream in winter. The sage’s approach is to blend in as though adhering to an established system,[7] or adhering to the rules like one transgressing the law and afraid his neighbors will find out. Hence, he is reticent like a guest standing in awe within a powerful person’s house, naturally respectful but not obsequious.[8]

Daoists keep knowledge to themselves, while avoiding conflict with those who worship the more well-known or popular gods. It is better to be discrete in order not to be drawn into these beliefs. If invited to participate or even officiate in the festivals and rituals that others use to celebrate and honor their gods, he or she does not dispute or attempt to rectify misunderstandings, but rather neutralizes the influences of these gods, reintegrating them into the energies of his own body in order to purify and convert them.[9]

Daoism contains a healthy skepticism of the ability of deliberate planning and social structures to mediate the complexities of the world. By trying to control the natural movement within ourselves and in the myriad things in the world though planning and structures, the more unwieldy these plans and structures become. In the end, these plans and structures are unable to cope with the fluidity of natural changes and transformations.

The sage resembles ice melting and dissolving. What dissolves breaks up. What melts vanishes.[10] What is flowing must dissolve and vanish. If our emotions flow properly, they pass on, then our desires diminish and we become more empty. Dissolving energetic and emotional blockages, and returning them to flowing Qi, is a part of the ongoing meditative process.

The sage is simple as un-worked wood and empty as a valley. Un-worked wood has not been carved. Simplicity also refers to being candid and sincere, made of real substance[11] and without pretensions. Within one ought to take care of the spirits [12] – the vital spirits and Qi of the internal organs. The valley is empty, wide and vast: He Shang Gong says that a valley is empty, without Te and merit and fame, without a place.[13] Its existence it impossible to grasp, yet at the same time there is nothing it does not embrace. [14]

The first part of chapter six in the Zhuangzi (Chuang-Tzu, 369—298 B.C.E.) expands on some these themes in relation to the Zhen Ren (“true” or “genuine” person – the sage). The Zhen Ren is a person in tune with the cycles of nature. He or she is not upset by the vicissitudes of life. Like Laozi’s sage, the True Person, simultaneously unified with things, and yet not tied down or bound by them. He or she is in tune with the cycles of nature, and with the cycles of yin yang, and is not disturbed or harmed by them.[15] Zhuang Zi’s conception of the sage, or Zhen Ren, was discussed previously in the section on Dao De Jing Chapter Five.

Echoing some of the Dao De Jing’s descriptions of the sage the Zhuangzi describes the Zhen Ren as follows:

The True Man of ancient times slept without dreaming and woke without care; he ate without savoring; and his breath came from deep inside. The True Man breathes with his heels; the mass of men breathe with their throats. Crushed and bound down, they gasp out their words as though they were retching. Deep in their passions and desires, they are shallow in the workings of Heaven. The True Man of ancient times knew nothing of loving life, knew nothing of hating death. He emerged without delight; he went back in without a fuss. He came briskly, he went briskly, and that was all. He didn’t forget where he began; he didn’t try to find out where he would end. He received something and took pleasure in it; he forgot about it and handed it back again. This is what I call not using the mind to repel the Way, not using man to help out Heaven. This is what I call the True Man. Since he is like this, his mind forgets, his face is calm; his forehead is broad. He is chilly like autumn, balmy like spring, and his joy and anger prevail through the four seasons.

This was the True Man of old: his bearing was lofty and did not crumble; he appeared to lack but accepted nothing; he was dignified in his correctness but not insistent; he was vast in his emptiness but not ostentatious. Mild and cheerful, he seemed to be happy; reluctant, he could not help doing certain things; annoyed, he let it show in his face; relaxed, he rested in his virtue. Tolerant, he seemed to be part of the world; towering alone, he could be checked by nothing; withdrawn, he seemed to prefer to cut himself off; bemused, he forgot what he was going to say.[16]

Now returning to the last four lines of Chapter 15, it is clear that they speak to the meditative process:

Muddy, o, like turbid water.

Turbid water by being quieted gradually becomes clear.

The quiet by moving it gradually becomes quickened

Who keeps this Tao does not want fullness.

Now who is without fullness, is thereby able become worn out without being newly mended.

He Shang Gong’s commentary on this section tells us that muddiness retains its original purity – the undivided, obscure and dark unity of the origin. Turbid water is not so bright. One ought to unite with the crowd and not keep apart.[17] Although this is often interpreted to mean the sage concerned himself with others it also means uniting the spirits and energies inside the body. In his commentary on this stanza, Sinologist Arthur Waley says that it refers to the common saying – ‘The more you clean it the dirtier it becomes’ – which alludes to the way in which slander ‘sticks’ to a person. However, the Taoist must apply the paradoxical rule: ‘The more you dirty it the cleaner it becomes.’[18]

By assuming murkiness, one in the end becomes still and clear. He Shang Gong instructs us that quieting means to bring to a standstill. If water is turbid, one should bring it to a standstill and quiet it, and gradually it will become clear of itself.[19] By acting slowly and quietly in tune with nature, what is muddy gradually become clear and lipid. Then what is quiet quickens, it energies slowly and gradually increasing to nourish and preserve life.

Sinologist A.C. Graham explains this idea further: Instead of exerting his energies in the active or Yang phase to unravel a problem, the sage lets them withdraw in the passive or Yin phase to an absolute stillness in which he sees the problems unravel themselves. The ‘axis’: the still point at the centre of us from which we can watch the cycles of events as though for the motionless center of a rotating wheel.[20]

The last two lines reiterate a theme present throughout the Dao De Jing, that those who maintain the Dao do not desire fullness. In order to protect the inner energies, their union and their ability to nourish and extend life one should not be extravagant or desire to be exalted and praised. When one is not filled up to the brim, he or she is like a garment that endures all wear and need never be renewed.[21]

Notes

[1] Ho-Shang-Kung’s Commentary on Lao-Tse, translated and annotated by Eduard Erkes, p. 146.

[2] Lao-tzu’s Taoteching: with Selected Commentaries of the Past 2000 Years, translated by Red Pine (Bill Porter). Townsend WA: Copper Canyon Press, 2009, p. 25.

[3] Cultivating Perfection: Mysticism and Self-transformation in Early Quanzhen Daoism, by Louis Komjathy. Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2007, pp.164-65.

[4] Ibid, p. 165

[5] Chuang Tzu: The Inner Chapters, translated by A.C. Graham (Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company 1981) p. p. 69.

[6]  A Short History of Chinese Philosophy: A Systemic Account of Chinese Thought From Its Origins to the Present Day. Fung Yu-Lan (New York, London: The Free Press 1948), p. 65.

[7] The Ho-Shang Kung Commentary on Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Jing, translated by Daniel G. Reid (Montreal: Center Ring Publishing, 2015) p. 100.

[8] Ibid, p.101.

[9] Taoist Body. Kristofer Schipper (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993) p. 124.

[10] Ho-Shang-Kung’s Commentary on Lao-Tse, translated and annotated by Eduard Erkes, p. 36.

[11] The Ho-Shang Kung Commentary on Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Jing, translated by Daniel G. Reid,  p.101.

[12] Ho-Shang-Kung’s Commentary on Lao-Tse, translated and annotated by Eduard Erkes, p. 36.

[13] Ibid.

[14] The Ho-Shang Kung Commentary on Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Jing, translated by Daniel G. Reid, p. p.101.

[15] Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy: https://iep.utm.edu/zhuangzi-chuang-tzu-chinese-philosopher/

[16] The Complete works of Zhuang Zi.Translated by Burton Watson (New York: Columbia University Press 2013) pp. 119-122.

[17] Ho-Shang-Kung’s Commentary on Lao-Tse, translated and annotated by Eduard Erkes, p. 36.

[18] The Way & Its Power: A Study of the Tao Te Ching and its Place in Chinese Thought. Arthur Waley (New York: Grove Press Inc. 1958) p. 1

[19] Ibid, p. 36

[20] Chuang Tzu: The Inner Chapters, translated by A.C. Graham (Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company 1981) p. 63.

[21] The Way & Its Power: A Study of the Tao Te Ching and its Place in Chinese Thought. Arthur Waley (New York: Grove Press Inc. 1958) p. 160.