Yu, the Cosmos, is the Tao.
Guanyinzi said: It is not that there is a Tao that cannot be spoken of; what cannot be spoken of is itself the Tao. It is not that there is a Tao that cannot be thought of; what cannot be thought of is itself the Tao. The things of heaven surge and flow; human affairs are tangled and confused—whirling round and round, clashing and grinding, fleeting, seeming so and yet not so. And people contend over it, fence it off, [a word is missing in the text] it, clamor over it, cast it away, and try to seize it. Speaking of it is like blowing at a shadow; thinking of it is like carving dust. Sages and the wise are lost in it; ghosts and spirits cannot recognize it. Only because it cannot be done, cannot be reached, cannot be fathomed, and cannot be divided, it is called Heaven, called Destiny, called Spirit, called the Primal; taken together it is called the Tao.
He said: There is not a single thing that is not Heaven, not a single thing that is not Destiny, not a single thing that is not Spirit, not a single thing that is not the Primal. Since things are like this, how could people not be? Every person may be called Heaven, every person may be called Spirit, every person can fulfill Destiny and reach the Primal. One cannot say that that is Heaven and this is not Heaven, that is Spirit and this is not Spirit, that is Destiny and this is not Destiny, that is the Primal and this is not the Primal. Therefore one who is good at my Tao, within a single thing, knows Heaven and exhausts Spirit, fulfills Destiny and reaches the Primal. In learning it, one follows the different names and divides up the same reality; in attaining it, one accords with the same reality and forgets the different names.
He said: One who observes the Tao is like one who observes water. Thinking that watching a pond is not enough, he goes to the rivers, to the Yangtze, and to the sea, and says, “Here is water at its utmost,” not realizing that his own saliva, spittle, and tears are all water.
He said: The Tao has no others: the sage does not see A as the Tao and B as not the Tao. The Tao has no self: the sage does not see himself as advancing in the Tao or retreating from the Tao. Because he does not possess the Tao, he is never without the Tao; because he does not attain the Tao, he never loses the Tao.
He said: One who does not know the Tao and makes wild guesses at it is like one guessing what is hidden under an upturned bowl. Guess high, and it holds gold or jade; guess middling, and it holds horn or feathers; guess low, and it holds tiles or stones. Right or not right, only the one who placed the object knows.
He said: One potter can make ten thousand vessels, yet in the end not one vessel can make the potter or harm the potter. The one Tao can make the myriad things, yet in the end not one thing can make the Tao or harm the Tao.
He said: The Tao is vast and without knowing; the mind is free and without bridle; things follow one after another and none is wrong. Like the swiftness of lightning, like the flying of sand! The sage knows that the mind is one, things are one, and the Tao is one, and that these three again unite as one. He does not use the one to restrict what is not one, nor let what is not one harm the one.
He said: Take a basin as a pond and a stone as an island: the fish swim round and round it, not knowing how many thousands of myriads of li they have gone, and never come to an end. Why is this? Because the water has no source and no destination. The Tao of the sage has no head at its root and no tail at its end, and so it responds to things without exhaustion.
He said: Do not love the Tao—loving is water. Do not contemplate the Tao—contemplating is fire. Do not pursue the Tao—pursuing is wood. Do not speak of the Tao—speaking is metal. Do not think of the Tao—thinking is earth. Only the sage, without departing from his original nature, ascends to the Great Tao. When the mind has not yet stirred, even “the Tao” is only a borrowed name for it.
He said: When heavy clouds cover the sky, the rivers and lakes grow dark and the fish swim about bewildered. Suddenly they see a gleam on the waves and food moving, and, taking it for a gift from heaven, they go straight to it and are killed by the angler's hook. So it is with those who do not know that their self is no self and go chasing after the Tao.
He said: The methods and arts in the world are many: some esteem darkness, some brightness, some strength, some weakness. Held on to, they are all mere affairs; not held on to, they are all the Tao.
He said: The Tao can never be attained; what can be attained is called virtue, not the Tao. The Tao can never be practiced; what can be practiced is called conduct, not the Tao. The sage uses what can be attained and practiced to make good his life, and what cannot be attained or practiced to make good his death.
He said: After hearing the Tao, those who act and hold on thereby go toward the human; those who neither act nor hold on thereby go toward heaven. Whoever acts will fail; whoever holds on will lose. Therefore, having heard the Tao in the morning, one may die in the evening.
He said: One whose feelings are wholly merged in the dark unknown is a sage; one whose feelings are wholly good is a worthy; one whose feelings are wholly bad is a petty man. One whose feelings are merged in the dark unknown goes from being into nonbeing, and this cannot be shown. One whose feelings are good or bad rises from nonbeing into being, and this cannot be kept hidden. Feelings of good and bad make for knowing, which only moving creatures have; feelings merged in the dark unknown make for no-knowing. Under the whole expanse of heaven, there is nowhere the Tao is not.
He said: Do not say, because the sage practices diligently without slackening, that the Tao is achieved through diligence. Do not say, because the sage holds firm without changing, that the Tao is attained by holding on. The sage's diligent practice is like shooting an arrow: it goes because of something else, not of itself. The sage's holding firm is like grasping an arrow: he holds because of something else, not of himself.
He said: If one seeks the Tao through speech, conduct, learning, and knowledge, they turn round and round upon one another, and there is never a time of attaining it. Know that speech is like the sound of a spring, conduct like the flight of birds, learning like picking up shadows, knowledge like counting dreams; when not a single breath of these remains, the Tao will come and accord with you.
He said: To build up things by means of affairs is hard; to let go of things by means of the Tao is easy. Of all the things in the world, there is none that is not hard to make and easy to destroy.
He said: The fire of a single spark can burn up the myriad things; when the things are gone, where does the fire remain? The Tao of a single breath can merge the myriad things into the dark unknown; when the things are gone, where is the Tao?
He said: Of people born into the world, some die after living one day, some after ten years, some after a hundred years. Dying after one day is like attaining the Tao in a single breath; dying after ten or a hundred years is like attaining the Tao over a long time. As for those not yet dead, however they move and act with bright intelligence, they are only called living, not dead. As for those not yet in accord with the Tao, however they move and act with bright intelligence, it is only called affairs, not the Tao.
He said: Those who do not know that my Tao has neither words nor deeds, and who seek the Tao through words and deeds, when they chance upon something strange, grab hold of it and take it for the Tao. They do not know that to give up the source and seek the stream is never to find the source, and to give up the root and go after the branches is never to find the root.
He said: In practicing archery, charioteering, the zither, or chess, there is not one of these that can be mastered in a single breath. Only the Tao, having no form and no direction, can be attained in a single breath.
He said: When two archers meet, skill and clumsiness show; when two chess players meet, victory and defeat show; when two people of the Tao meet, there is nothing to show. There is nothing to show because there is no skill and no clumsiness, no victory and no defeat.
He said: My Tao is like the sea. Throw in a hundred million pieces of gold, and they are not seen; throw in a hundred million stones, and they are not seen; throw in a hundred million pieces of filth, and they are not seen. It can carry little shrimp and little fish, and it can carry the great kun fish and great whales. Gather all the waters and pour them in, and it is not too full; scatter all the waters and divide them up, and it is not too little.
He said: My Tao is like dwelling in darkness. One who dwells in the light cannot see a single thing in the dark, but one who dwells in darkness can see every matter in the light.
He said: The power of the petty man returns to evil; the power of the gentleman returns to good; the power of the sage returns to having nothing attained. Only because nothing is attained is it the Tao.
He said: My Tao is like a sword. Use its blade to cut things, and it is sharp; grasp the blade with your hand, and you will be wounded.
He said: The bamboo dish does not question the wooden dish, and the wooden dish does not answer the bamboo dish; the tile does not question the stone, and the stone does not answer the tile; and yet the Tao is not lost. Questioning and answering are one qi coming and going; where is the Tao in them?
He said: Those who look up to the Tao stand on tiptoe; those who go toward the Tao gallop. Both know the affairs of the Tao, but not the Tao of the Tao. Therefore the sage does not look toward the Tao and feel lacking, does not rely on the Tao and feel abundant, does not borrow the Tao from the sage, and does not sell the Tao to the foolish.