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Chapter 45

Original Text

大成若缺,其用不敝。大盈若衝,其用不窮。大直若屈,大巧若拙,大辯若訥。躁勝寒,靜勝熱。清靜為天下正。

Translation

Great accomplishment seems lacking — yet its use is never exhausted. Great fullness seems empty — yet its use is never spent. Great straightness seems bent. Great skill seems clumsy. Great eloquence seems halting. Agitation overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat. Clarity and stillness set all under Heaven right.

Word Notes

  • 缺 — "lacking": deficient, incomplete.
  • 衝 — "empty": hollow, void.
  • 拙 — "clumsy": dull, unskilled.
  • 辯 — "eloquence": disputation, argumentation.
  • 訥 — "halting": reticent, not speaking much.
  • 躁 — "agitation": urgency, restlessness.

Chapter Explanation

One who has great accomplishment instead seems to have deficiencies — yet the function of his work is never destroyed. One who is greatly full instead seems empty — yet the function of his fullness is never exhausted. One who is greatly straight instead seems bent. One who has great skill instead seems clumsy and dull. One who has great eloquence instead seems unable to speak much. Yet what is held within will naturally prevail outwardly. Cold and heat are external weather. One who is inwardly agitated can overcome cold — though it is cold, one does not feel cold. One who is inwardly still can overcome heat — though it is hot, one does not feel hot. Therefore, clarity and stillness, which are nonaction, naturally overcome the disturbances of all under Heaven, and all under Heaven is set right of itself.

Discourse

In general, all who accomplish something truly great leave no visible traces and instead seem as if they have accomplished nothing. Consider Confucius: he gathered the great achievements of all the sages into one — this was a great accomplishment indeed. And yet he transmitted but did not originate, as though he had accomplished nothing. His De matched Heaven and Earth; his learning spanned antiquity and the present — this was the fullest plenitude. And yet in every matter he said, "What do I really have?" — as though he were utterly empty. His meeting with Nanzi and his meeting with Yang Huo were instances of his great straightness seeming bent. His being broadly learned yet without a specialty to make his name was his great skill seeming clumsy. He deleted the Odes and the Documents, established the Rites and the Music, and compiled the Spring and Autumn Annals. Where principle could not be explained to others, he did not argue with them. And yet a hundred generations later, without any argument, it became clear of itself. Is not the utility of nonaction tremendously great? Why do people not learn from this?