The skilful masters (of the Dao) in old times, with a subtle and exquisite penetration, comprehended its mysteries, and were deep (also) so as to elude men’s knowledge. As they were thus beyond men’s knowledge, I will make an effort to describe of what sort they appeared to be. Shrinking looked they like those who wade through a stream in winter; irresolute like those who are afraid of all around them; grave like a guest (in awe of his host); evanescent like ice that is melting away; unpretentious like wood that has not been fashioned into anything; vacant like a valley, and dull like muddy water. Who can (make) the muddy water (clear)? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear. Who can secure the condition of rest? Let movement go on, and the condition of rest will gradually arise. They who preserve this method of the Dao do not wish to be full (of themselves). It is through their not being full of themselves that they can afford to seem worn and not appear new and complete.
Note
In the previous chapter, Laozi stated that the Dao is invisible and cannot be perceived through ordinary senses. To help people comprehend it, this chapter continues to elucidate the Dao. Throughout history, cultivating the Dao has been regarded as subtle, mysterious, and inscrutable. Its characteristics can be approximately described as: prudence, deliberation, solemnity, serenity, simplicity, vastness, and integration.
Each stage of Dao cultivation possesses distinct, progressively evolving traits. Spiritual practice is rooted in the refinement of the heart-mind. Those who master this path achieve:
- Calming the mind amid confusion, restoring purity and freedom from disruptive thoughts.
- Acting decisively during internal stability, allowing new vital impulses to gradually manifest.
To attain this, it is essential to maintain an empty mind free from obsessive fixations: egoic clinging and phenomenal attachment. Only then does the dynamic interplay between stillness and movement arise—a perpetual cycle of continuous refinement that propels spiritual advancement.
Further Reading
The cautious attitude described in Chapter Fifteen – “cautious, like crossing a river in winter; hesitant, as if wary of neighbors” – is connected to the empty and tranquil nature of the Tao in Chapter Four, as expressed in the line “the Tao is empty, yet when used it is not exhausted; deep, it seems like the ancestor of all things.” While Chapter Four describes the Tao’s emptiness and infinite potential, Chapter Fifteen exemplifies the concrete manifestation of the Tao in personal cultivation through the behavior of those who have attained it – such as caution and vigilance. Together, they elucidate the internal cultivation principles of the “Tao.”
The contented attitude of “those who preserve this Tao do not seek fullness” in Chapter Fifteen complements the critique of material desires in Chapter Twelve: “The five colors blind the eyes; the five tones deafen the ears.” Chapter Twelve criticizes how excessive sensory pursuit leads to the loss of one’s true nature, while Chapter Fifteen, through the principle of “not seeking fullness,” proposes that those who have attained the Tao should restrain their desires and remain humble. Together, they constitute a cultivation system centered on “reducing selfishness and desires.”
古之善為士者，微妙玄通，深不可識。夫唯不可識，故強為之容。豫兮若冬涉川；猶兮若畏四鄰；儼兮其若容；渙兮若冰之將釋；敦兮其若樸；曠兮其若谷；混兮其若濁；孰能濁以靜之徐清？孰能安以久動之徐生？保此道者，不欲盈。夫唯不盈，故能蔽不新成。
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