Chapter 64 of the Laozi

Chinese text

ānchíwèizhàomóucuìwēisàn
wéizhīwèiyǒuzhìzhīwèiluàn
bàozhīshēngháojiǔcéngzhītáilěiqiānzhīxíngshǐxià
wéizhěbàizhīzhízhěshīzhī
shìshèngrénwéibàizhíshī
mínzhīcóngshìchángchéngérbàizhī
shènzhōngshǐbàishì
shìshèngrénguìnánzhīhuòxuéxuézhòngrénzhīsuǒguò
wànzhī自然ránérgǎnwéi.

Translation

What is calm is easy to maintain; what has not yet appeared is easy to prevent; what is weak is easy to break; what is minute is easy to scatter.
Stop evil before it exists; calm disorder before it breaks out.
A tree with a large circumference is born from a root as fine as a hair; a nine-story tower comes from a clod of earth; a journey of a thousand li begins with a single step!
Whoever acts fails; whoever clings to something loses it.
Thus the Sage does not act, and so he does not fail.
He clings to nothing, so he never loses.
When the people undertake something, they always fail at the point of success.
Be as careful at the end as at the beginning, and so you will never fail.
Thus the Sage finds his desires in having no desires. He does not value goods that are difficult to obtain.
He makes his learning consist in having no learning, and guards against the mistakes of other men.
He dares not act, so as to help all beings follow their nature.

Notes

Lao-tseu develops here the thought of the two passages from the previous chapter: 图难于易 tú nán yú yì "(the sage) meditates on difficult things by starting with easy things"; 为大于细 wéi dà yú xì, "he makes great things by starting with small things".

Ibid. The words ān, 'quietum', and 未兆 wèi zhào 'nondum exiit, apparuit' refer to the time when a single thought has not yet arisen (in the heart), when joy and anger have not yet manifested (on the face), when the soul is perfectly calm and free from all emotion.

The words cuì, 'weak', and wēi, 'minute', (are taken figuratively and) designate the nascent germs of the first thought.

All editions have 为之于未有 wéi zhī yú wèi yǒu 'make things before they exist'. This idea is obviously contrary to the spirit of this chapter and Lao-tseu's doctrine. To remove this alteration from the text, B, whom I follow here, wrote in his commentary 防之 fáng zhī 'stop things (before they exist)' instead of 为之 wéi zhī 'make them, etc.'. A confirms this correction by expressing the same idea with , 'stop, block'.

The words 未有 wèi yǒu (literally 'nondum exstitit') indicate the time when the heart has not yet experienced emotion; the words 未乱 wèi luàn (literally 'nondum turbatum est'), the time when it has not yet been corrupted.

From small it has become large. This comparison shows, says Liu-kie-fou, that small things are the origin of great ones. Chi-sun (in edition A): If you want to fell a tree, you must necessarily start by uprooting its root; otherwise it will grow back. If you want to stop water and you don't start by blocking its source, it will not fail to flow again. If you want to stifle a misfortune and you don't stop it at its root, it will not fail to burst out again.

It was born from a spoonful of earth. A: From how low it was at the beginning, it has gradually risen to great heights.

I followed C: 必自一步始 bì zì yī bù shǐ, literally: 'necessario ab uno passu initium duxit'. The words in the text 始于足下 shǐ yú zú xià literally mean: 'it began at your feet'.

According to the principles of non-action, action and attachment (to external objects) are disordered things; that is why the one who acts fails and cannot succeed. The one who clings (to external objects) loses them and cannot possess them. Consequently, the sage practices non-action; thus he remains aloof from both success and failure. He leaves (external objects) and does not cling to them; thus he remains aloof from their possession and their loss.

The word means 'to be near'. When ordinary people see that something is about to succeed (literally 'to be accomplished'), they give in to carelessness and lightness; then the matter changes, and they fail completely. Therefore, be as careful at the end of your undertakings as at the beginning; then you can bring them to perfect completion and never fail.

I followed E: 无欲以为欲 wú yù yǐ wéi yù. This is also the meaning of Li-si-tchaï and several respected commentators. E: The multitude desires things that are useless to them and wears out their minds seeking them, while they despise what is precious in them (that is, the purity of their nature): this is the height of blindness! The Sage does not prize external things; he values only the absence of all desire.

Aliter A: The Sage desires what ordinary men do not desire. They delight in shining, and he loves to hide the brightness of his virtue; they love elegance and luxury, and he loves simplicity; they aspire only to pleasure, and he aspires only to virtue.

This expression not only applies to gold and precious stones; it generally refers to all things that are outside of us.

I followed E: 无学以为学 wú xué yǐ wéi xué. Aliter A: The Sage studies what ordinary men cannot study. They study prudence and cunning; he studies his nature; they learn to govern the kingdom, he learns to govern himself and to preserve the purity of the Tao.

The word here has the sense of fǎn 'to be opposed to'. 众人之所过 zhòng rén zhī suǒ guò, 则反之为 zé fǎn zhī wéi, literally: 'That in which the multitude errs, he is opposed to it and does not do it'. Ibid. All beings each have their nature. The men of the multitude do not follow the purity of their nature; they alter it by engaging in disorderly activity. They abandon candor and simplicity, to pursue prudence and cunning; they leave what is easy and simple, to chase after things that are arduous and complicated. This is how they err. The Sage strives to do the opposite.

Aliter A. This interpreter renders as 'to bring back'. In the studies to which they devote themselves, the men of the multitude take the accessory for the principal (literally: 'the extremity of the branches for the root') and the flower for the fruit. The Sage brings them back to the root (to the Tao).