The way and its name

This chapter sets out the substance and functioning of the Way and the work of entering it. All Laozi's teaching is contained here. His more than five thousand characters simply unfold this one chapter. The Way he speaks of is the true, constant Way. In 'the Way that can be spoken,' dao means 'to speak.' His meaning is that the true, constant Way originally has neither form nor name and cannot be expressed. Whatever can be expressed is not the true, constant Way: hence 'not the constant Way.' Moreover, the Way is originally nameless. Since we now impose the name 'Way,' anything that can be named is merely provisionally named: hence 'not the constant name.' These two sentences describe its substance.

The substance of this formless, nameless Way is utterly empty. Heaven and earth emerge from its transformations, so it is their beginning. The whole substance of the formless, nameless Way becomes heaven and earth with forms and names. All things then come into being through the creative transformations of their yin and yang. This is 'One generates two, two generate three, and three generate all things'; hence 'the mother of all things.' These sentences describe its functioning.

The next two sentences concern the work of entering the Way. 'Constantly' means ordinarily, in daily life; 'desire' means want or intend. Laozi says: In my ordinary daily life I settle my mind in nonbeing, intending to observe the wonder of the Way. In my ordinary daily life I settle my mind in being, intending to observe its boundaries. 'Boundary' means an edge or limit. The entire empty substance of the Way has become the named multitude of things. Thus every thing contains the whole substance of the Way: precisely 'each thing is a Supreme Ultimate.' In the affairs and things immediately before us in daily life, we must see the Way's actuality; whatever we encounter, nowhere is the Way absent. Hence Zhuangzi says, 'The Way is in panic grass and barnyard grass; the Way is in excrement and urine.' Only such deep contemplation reveals its wonder. The two occurrences of 'observe' are crucial.

From 'these two are the same' onward, Laozi resolves doubts and reveals wonder. Having spoken of observing nonbeing and being, he fears students will take these as two opposing sides, so he explains: 'These two are the same.' When I observe nonbeing, I do not observe nonbeing alone: within its empty substance is the wonder of creating and generating things. When I observe being, I do not observe being alone: the forms of all things are wholly the principle of the wondrous, empty Way. Thus being and nonbeing are contemplated together as one substance: 'these two are the same.'

He fears someone will ask why, if they are the same, the names 'being' and 'nonbeing' are established. He explains: 'They emerge with different names.' The empty substance of the Way generates heaven, earth, and all things with form. Being cannot generate being; being must arise through nonbeing. Nonbeing does not manifest itself as nonbeing independently; being reveals it. This is the mutual generation of being and nonbeing, so their two names differ: 'they emerge with different names.'

He then fears someone will ask: If being and nonbeing stand opposed, they cannot form one substance; how can this be the wondrous Way? He explains: 'Together they are called mysterious.' Heaven and earth share one root; all things are one body. Is not contemplation reaching this depth wondrous? He further fears that students reaching this point cannot cleanse their mysterious vision, so he dismisses even this: 'Mystery upon mystery.' Even when being and nonbeing are contemplated together, without forgetting the mind and its traces, the supposedly wondrous is not wondrous. Within the substance of the great Way, not only are the names of being and nonbeing cut off; even traces of mystery and wonder are left behind. Hence 'mystery upon mystery.'

When the work reaches this point, concerns are forgotten and distinctions among things dissolve: nowhere is wonder absent. Hence 'the gateway of all wonders.' This is the utmost attainment of the Way. How could such work be exhausted by a few written words and grammatical particles? This is why I say, in my humble view, that only when the practice of stillness is thoroughly mature can one see the wonder within.