Chapter 4

Original Text

道衝而用之，或不盈。淵兮似萬物之宗。挫其銳，解其紛，和其光，同其塵。湛兮似若存。吾不知誰之子，象帝之先。

Translation

Dao, in its harmony, is put to use, Yet perhaps it never fills. Fathomless — it seems the ancestor of the myriad beings. It blunts the sharp, Unravels the tangled, Blends its light, Mingles with the dust. Profound and still — it seems as though it exists. I do not know whose child it is; It appears to precede the Lord on High.

Word Notes

• 衝 — "harmony": Harmonious blending.
• 淵 — "fathomless": Deep and far-reaching.
• 宗 — "ancestor": Master, source.
• 挫 — "to blunt": To check, to restrain.
• 銳 — "the sharp": Keen, aggressive force; the sharp edge of competitive ambition.
• 解 — "to unravel": To loosen, to untangle.
• 紛 — "tangles": Confusion, disorder.
• 光 — "light": Radiance, brilliance.
• 塵 — "dust": The mundane world, worldly affairs.
• 湛 — "profound and still": Clear, empty, and tranquil.
• 帝 — "the Lord on High": Shangdi, the supreme sovereign deity.

Chapter Explanation

Though Dao is utterly empty and without substance, it issues forth as a harmonious breath that is fully operative. It pervades everything within the cosmos and there is nowhere it does not fill. It is so profoundly deep and far-reaching that it cannot be fathomed, and it seems to be the ancestor of the myriad beings. It blunts the sharp, competitive spirit, unravels the confused and tangled mind, does not display its own radiance, and mingles with the dust of the common world. Profoundly clear and empty, it seems to have nothing it holds onto — yet it seems as if perhaps something does remain. I do not know whose child it is, or where it comes from — it appears to precede even the Lord on High.

Discourse

This chapter speaks of the Sage who has "emptied the heart, filled the belly, softened the will, and strengthened the bones" — one who has attained Dao in his own person. He takes emptiness and nothingness as his substance, and harmony as his function. The character for "harmony" here is composed of "center" and "water," meaning "what flows from the center." What the center issues forth is harmony. Thus "Dao in its harmony" means centrality and harmony.

The breath of Supreme Harmony fills all of Heaven and Earth. It can give Heaven and Earth their proper place and nourish the myriad beings. Its aspect is vast and boundless, beyond description. And yet such a person does not presume upon his De, does not claim credit for his accomplishments. Gentle and supremely harmonious, he is just like an infant — serene and without desire. He blends his own radiance — this is what Mencius calls "a sage who is great and transforming." It is the realm of "a spirit who is sagely and unfathomable." He casually mingles with the dust of the common world. This is not merely keeping oneself safe through wisdom; it is not merely avoiding startling or shocking the world. In truth, it is teaching by personal example, leading others to ever deeper understanding.

In the "Human World" chapter of the Zhuangzi, Qu Boyu teaches Yan He how to serve as tutor to the Crown Prince of Wei: "In outward form, nothing is better than to go along with him; in your heart, nothing is better than to be at harmony with him." This passage is precisely the footnote to "blending one's light, mingling with the dust." When Guanyin manifests in all manner of bodily forms to teach the Dharma, the meaning is the same.

Most commentators interpret this as keeping oneself safe through wisdom. That is certainly correct, but it is only a half-sided explanation. Would the Sage merely preserve his own person?

Profoundly clear and still, beyond all scrutiny — his person seems to be above the world; his spirit truly transcends Heaven and Earth. And so the text says one does not know whose child he is, or where he comes from — it seems he precedes even the Lord on High. This is plainly Laozi reciting his own curriculum vitae, speaking of his own virtue, painting his own portrait — displaying the living image of the man called "like a dragon" for all to see. And yet the text says "perhaps" and "seems" and "as if" — still soaring or leaping, now visible now hidden, now revealing a single scale, now revealing a single claw, keeping people from fathoming him.

The Daoist scriptures say Laozi preached the Dharma for twelve thousand days and manifested in transformation eighty-one times. Though I, this young student, understand the reasons behind this, the matter borders on the miraculous. In the secular world there is insufficient evidence to cite as proof, so I also dare not insist on the point. Even if we discuss only the Laozi who served as Keeper of the Archives, some say he was a man of the Shang dynasty, others that he was a man of the Zhou dynasty. He served as a court archivist for many years yet left no notable memorial or proposal, as if he were an ordinary, unremarkable person. And yet Confucius — the greatest sage since the beginning of human history — looked up to him as a teacher and called him "like a dragon." After Laozi departed through the Hangu Pass, no one knew where he went. Is this not the very mystery of a spirit whose transformations are beyond reckoning?