Lynn's - Daode jing of Laozi

Great completion seems incomplete, but its functioning is never exhausted.

Because it completes things as they come along, it never forms one complete image [xiang], thus it "seems incomplete [que]" (1)

Great fullness seems empty, but its functioning is limitless.

Great fullness is filled with emptiness. (2)  Because It provides for things as they come along, none get treated with special consideration, thus it "seems empty".

Great straightness seems crooked.

Because it straightens things as they come along, there is no single basis for straightening, (3) thus it "seems crooked".

Great skill seems clumsy.

Great skill completes the physical objects of existence [qi] in accordance with the Natural and does not work to any other standard, thus it "seems clumsy".

Great eloquence seems inarticulate. (4)

Great eloquence speaks to things as they come along and does not engage in any artfulness of its own, thus it "seems inarticulate".

Although the heat of activity conquers cold, quietude conquers heat, (5) so pure quietude is the right way to govern all under Heaven.

Only when the heat of activity ceases does it conquer cold, and it is by acting without conscious effort [wuwei] that quietude [jing] conquers heat.  It is by pursuing this line of thought that we come to understand that "pure quietude is the right way to govern all under Heaven".  If one practices quietude, this will fully realize the authenticity [zhen] of the people, but, if one engages in activity, this will violate the nature [xing] of the people.  Thus it is only through pure quietude that one can achieve all the forms of greatness mentioned above.

Text, in Italics above, is Wang Bi's commentary.

The notes below, are from the translator, Richard John Lynn -

(deb's note - "section" is used for verse in these notes.)

(1)  The occurrence together of "image" [xiang] and "incomplete" [que] suggests that Wang interprets the "great completion" of the Dao metaphorically in terms of the image [xiang] of the incomplete [que] moon.  Except in its brief full phase, the moon continually waxes or wanes and in either case is "incomplete".  The other celestial bodies all form complete, unchanging images, so only the moon is an appropriate metaphor for the "great completion" of the Dao, which, as it completes things, never reaches a point where everything is complete.  The Dao as such never has a full phase like the moon and always seems "incomplete".

(2)  Cf. Wang's commentary to section 4.

(3)  Cf. Wang's commentary to section 58, penultimate passage.

(4) Cf. section 81, third passage.

(5)  Cf. section 16, third passage; and section 26, first passage.

From Stephen Mitchell - tao te ching - A New English Version

True perfection seems imperfect,

yet it is perfectly itself.

True fullness seems empty,

yet it is fully present.

True straightness seems crooked.

True wisdom seems foolish.

True art seems artless.

The Master allows things to happen.

She shapes events as they come.

She steps out of the way

and lets the Tao speak for itself.

From Byron Katie - A Thousand Names For Joy

- Living in Harmony with the Way Things Are

True perfection seems imperfect,

yet it is perfectly itself.

Perfection is another name for reality.  The only way you can see anything as imperfect is if you believe a thought about it.  "It's inadequate, it's ugly, it's unfair, it's flawed" - is that true ?  This chipped coffee cup on the table: how beautiful it is when you simply look at it, without any thought of what it should be.  Or the homeless man shuffling ahead of you on the sidewalk, with long brown stains down the legs of his jeans.  Or the wars and killings and bombings that you read about on the front page of the newspaper.  When you see that reality is perfect just as it is, you can only stand in awe at the brilliant, unceasing, relentless way of it.

My legs are on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles.  One person might think, How unladylike; another might think, How comfortable.  But with or without the thoughts, my legs are in the perfect position.  And then I notice that they uncross, and then they cross again, as I watch the movie of life, frame by frame: perfection, perfection, perfection, perfection.  There is no frame you could freeze and look at that wouldn't be the way of its perfect self.  Only the mind that believes what it thinks is capable of creating imperfection.

What could happen that wouldn't be good ?  My legs cross, they uncross, they stretch, they fold.  Usually they're comfortable; sometimes they're so restless that they have to stand up and move.  It's all good.  Everything that happens is God's will.  When you realize that, you're home free.

I'm wide open to discomfort, blindness, injury, death.  Just this morning, I missed a step because I couldn't see it, and I almost fell down a flight of stairs.  I watched myself catch my balance, fascinated.  It was like being on a roller coaster with one of my grandsons.  What a trip !  "I need to live" - can I absolutely know that that's true ?  I took a drink of water one day, and it went down what people call "the wrong pipe" - that is, it went down the right pipe even though people say it's wrong.  I was breathing water, not air, and because I didn't believe the story that it was supposed to be air, there was no problem.  Because I didn't have the concept "I need to breathe", I was a fish for a moment or two.  The water went down, then it came up.  It was very gentle, as if my lungs were being rinsed.  But if I had believed the concept "I need to breathe", it could have been stressful.  So we really are amphibious.  We can't breathe water for long, but we can when we need to.  No story: no resistance.  The story is what we resist, not the experience.  How do I know that the water was supposed to go down this pipe ?  That's where it went.

The insight that everything is God's will is not the end of the discussion for most people, but the beginning.  Even devout people have trouble realizing that whatever happens is a good thing.  They think that that's an oversimplification.  But how can the simple truth be too simple ?  "God is everything, God is good" isn't an idea; it's reality.  You can know that it's true because anything that opposes it hurts.  I call it the last story.  Keep it and have a wonderful life.  An if you want to go deeper, even that story isn't true.

Being empty means that there are no obstacles in my mind to keep me from loving what is, whatever it is.  The clear mind is absolutely still.  Anything that comes into its awareness is a tilt, to be set straight again.  It's always looking for something out of order, only to see the order.  It makes sense of everything and rests in its unceasing awareness.  Right now I am dictating to Stephen in a hotel room in East Berlin.  He just took his right hand from the laptop keyboard and scratched his nose.  I am stunned.  I have no way to relate to what that is.  I fully take it in, and I wait, and I see everything that it isn't: it's not a nose, not a face, not a man, not anything, and I see the beauty of that gesture, the amusement of it, and how it's equal to the hands on the keyboard again, and how both movements are nothing, and love flows out of that.  It's all one unbroken flow.  There's no me, there's no him, there's no separation.  It isn't possible for this to be interrupted.  It was shocking to see his hand on his nose, it's shocking to see his hands moving on the keyboard now.  The way of it is so strange, it's like liquid geometry, always flowing into the right order.  No matter what happens, the love flows out, nothing can interrupt it, no cry or scream or laughter; it's always at work, always recognizing, present, vigilant, meticulous.  If you could understand how I see these two feet on the coffee table right now, you'd laugh until you fell helpless onto the floor.  The seeing would kill everything but the pure joy of what sees.

What an amazing world the empty mind is !  Everything fills it.  Feet, legs, coffee table, nose, arms, hands, laptop, walls, floor, windows, curtains, all of them nameless and flowing into and out of one another.  Imagine being filled with nothing, and the weirdness of that, and how only that could make sense.  And imagine the nature of itself that would produce the unending flow of fullness, and the container that could hold absolutely everything.  There are no limits to it.  Reality pours into us, and that's how it expands, that's how it manifests its infinite abundance.  If mind were a body, it would be as if the light were just shooting in, sparkles of the most brilliant light, and it flows into you as a body, and rather than coming out of any orifice, it's contained - for example, instead of shooting out your fingertips, the light would stop there and the fingertips would expand out at the same rate at which the light would fill the body.

So it's fullness without limits.  It has to have a way out, and yet it stays in.  Reality is never too big for the open mind.  It's as vast as life, it's not separate, and it keeps watching for anything apparently new and includes it in its infinite expansion.  It's all-inclusive, a limitless container, and there's nothing too much for it, nothing that's not welcome, nothing that it wouldn't or couldn't include.

There is a perfection beyond what the unquestioned mind can know.  You can count on it to take you wherever you need to be, whenever you need to be there, and always exactly on time.  When mind understands that it is just the reflection of the nameless intelligence that has created the whole apparent universe, it is filled with delight.  It delights that it is everything, it delights that it is nothing, it delights that it is brilliantly kind and free of all identity, free to be its unlimited, unstoppable, unimaginable life, it dances in the light of its own understanding that nothing has ever happened, and that everything that ever happened - everything that ever can happen - is good.

Dr Dyer's Essay for Verse 45 -

This verse subtly asks you to view the world with new eyes. Most likely you've been conditioned to evaluate just about everything with a cursory and fleeting glance. Here, however, Lao-tzu is asking you to stop seeing through your ego-dominated culture, and to instead begin noticing the still and tranquil invisible space within everything. When you go beyond superficialities, you become aware that what used to look imperfect, empty, awkward, or even stupid now appears perfect, full, eloquent, and intelligent.

Your previous way to thinking about the world told you that it's full of imperfections - the people in your life should be different, politicians should be aligned with your values, the weather should be more consistent and reliable, the multitudes should be more peaceful, young people should study harder, and older people should be more tolerant. The assessments are relentlessly endless, and they're all based on teachings that you've adopted. While they may seem sensible and correct, these views are simply the result of only looking at what exists on the surface. "Hold on a minute", this verse of the Tao Te Ching seems to say, "try looking at it this way. What seems to be imperfect has perfection, and what seems empty and false has a profound spiritual truth supporting it."

The paradox here is evident: Hunger does exist in the world as an element of the perfection of the Tao, and the desire to help those who are starving is also part of that perfection. You're being asked not to label what you see as imperfect, stupid, or empty; rather, look for the stillness and tranquility within you that you can bring to these superficial appearances. When you refrain from engaging in judgments based solely on looks, you paradoxically become an instrument for change.

Study the opening lines of this verse. What seems imperfect is nevertheless inexhaustible; what seems empty is endless. Imagine a pitcher out of which you could pour delicious iced tea without ever needing to refill. "Impossible !" you say, yet that's precisely what the Tao does. It never, ever runs out. It never has, and it never will. It cannot be exhausted. You are asked to be like this inexhaustible, always-full Tao - be nonjudgmental, still, and above all, tranquil. Let the world and all of its creations unfold while you remain constant with the invisibleness that allows it all to take place. Allow whatever you feel deep within you in that quiet and peaceful space to guide you in the direction that is your true identity.

Recently I attended a talk by my friend, colleague, and mentor Ram Dass, who had a stroke in 1997 that impacted his speech. As of this writing, he still spends almost all of his waking moments in a wheelchair, and his lecture lasted approximately 45 minutes. He received a standing ovation at the end, and I personally felt so blessed and blissful by having been in the audience. There are some who might have only seen superficialities - to them, the lecture might have seemed halting and slow because of the stroke, and judged as embarrassing or even intellectually challenging. Much of my dear friend's time onstage was silent, and it certainly appeared to be awkward in comparison to his earlier speeches, which were always masterful and eloquent. But as I sit here writing, I can only say that because I changed the way I looked at this experience, the entire thing changed for me in a very dramatic way.

While Ram Dass's words were few, his message was straight-forward, laconic, and direct. What might have appeared as unintelligible to others struck me as brilliance masked by circumstance. What could have been viewed as fumbling was articulate and perfect in every way. I heard a great presentation to a loving, receptive crowd that was done largely between long periods of luscious silence. Throughout this lecture, all of the audience members and I remained still and tranquil. As Lao-tzu concludes in this 45th verse of the Tao Te Ching, it "set things in order in [our] universe".