Annotations on the Wenshi True Sutra by Sanfu Fengyunyong (Part One): The Universe Is the Dao
The Wenshi True Sutra, when ordinary people read it, seems obscure in wording, full of metaphorical meaning, yet elegant in diction—hard to fathom its sense.
Though I delight in tales of the strange and the immortals, I do not believe the confusions of legend. By modern scholarship this sutra dates roughly to the Southern Song, with some saying it was fabricated by Sun Ding; though this remains undetermined, that it is a pseudepigraph is beyond doubt.
Since it cannot have been written by Perfected Wenshi, I have usually set it aside.
Years ago, while in a state of practice, I first felt heaven and earth as one, the void beginning to open; heaven and earth became my body, the myriad things became my agents. Though I sensed this to be delusion, my mind could not help being moved. So I tried it with a breath of xu and he—unexpectedly wind and rain arrived in an instant; I then withdrew the working, and all turned as my intention willed. I was greatly astonished.
If it were mere delusion, how could it act? If it is not delusion, where does the truth lie?
I reflected: the way of any method must attune to the pre-heaven and operate by ancestral qi. Its source can be traced, its causes known, its expenditures checked—therefore one does not use it lightly.
Not using qi, not performing magic, achieving the result without borrowing other powers—yet try it and it works, use it and it verifies. One may call it “attunement to the pre-heaven,” but that is only a saying; the fact is hard to speak. Just as the meaning of “sensing and thereby penetrating,” though one principle, leaves unclear what one senses by and what one acts through.
Later, observing this sutra, it says: “Dao without qi can move that which has qi—one can summon wind and rain.” I felt the sutra was no shallow thing. Reading further, it says: “One who knows the falseness of things need not cast them away. For example, upon seeing an earth ox or a wooden horse, though the mind still holds to the names ox and horse, it forgets the reality of ox and horse.” And again: “Wind, rain, thunder, and lightning all arise in dependence on qi; and qi arises in dependence on mind.”
The principle is transparent. Reasoning backward from principle: in the midst of practice, seeking to accord with the intention of Dao, mind is sovereign—so ancestral qi stirs, and the brahma-qi pervades. Though at first it is delusion, delusion can be made true; the method and the principle are one.
Though this sutra was not penned by Perfected Wenshi himself, and much of it was written under borrowed names by great practitioners, it connects with the pre-heaven way. The method of explanation, however, is another path. Or perhaps there truly was a Wenshi lineage, and this sutra was refined by its later generations—in which case it is not surprising.
In the present age, though many scholars study this sutra, most match only its surface. It is not that their learning falls short—rather, the sutra must be validated through the evidence of practice; only then does one read it and grasp its true intent. Without that link, mistaking the sutra's accounts of practice-verification for mere metaphor—how could that be without error?
Therefore I now set down my insights in classical prose to benefit later learners. Those who do not seek to inquire closely may not reach them; the prose may contain mistakes, and I hope for corrections.
The universe is the Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: It means the eight directions of the cosmos. This says that the universe also is the Dao—not that Dao is identical with the universe.
Perfected Guanyin says: It is not that there is a Dao that cannot be spoken; that which cannot be spoken is Dao. It is not that there is a Dao that cannot be thought; that which cannot be thought is Dao. The things of Heaven surge in a raging stream; human affairs are tangled and wrong. As if as if it turns, clashing as if in struggle, hasting as if yet not so. Yet they contend, and they intervene, and they appear, and they wrangle, and they depart, and they grasp. To speak of it is like blowing a shadow; to think of it is like carving dust. Sage-wisdom creates delusion; ghosts and spirits do not know it. Only because it cannot be made, cannot be reached, cannot be measured, cannot be divided—therefore it is called Heaven, called Fate, called Spirit, called Origin; joined, it is called Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Words always fall short. Taking one's talisman to regulate the images still cannot fully express it. Images have their root; roots have their source; the source has its root; from the root comes being; being arises from non-being; non-being issues from Dao. It is the tie of emptiness and nothingness, the root of creation and transformation, the base of spirit and illumination, the source of heaven and earth. Therefore Dao cannot be fully expressed, cannot be spoken, cannot be fully drawn, cannot be fully thought, cannot be fully sensed. Only the unthinking obtains the Dao that cannot be fully thought; only the unspeaking obtains the Dao that cannot be fully spoken. Therefore it is said that nothing is attained—this is named attaining Dao.
Stars and the Dipper's handle revolve through the directions and return; time hastens on, changeable and without constancy. As for human affairs, chaotic yet without order, mixed yet without method, bewildering and interlaced, bizarre and glistening. Of this there is its principle; of its non-being, none can fully exhaust it. Therefore those who disagree contend; the mixed and confused are intervened in; the hidden and submerged are brought to light; those who cling to views debate; what is superfluous is discarded; what is desired is grasped.
To reach its subtleties—like shaping shadows in emptiness, carving images upon dust—marvelously faint and hard to know. What sages and worthies enact, ghosts and spirits can scarcely know. And so only when subtlety reaches its utmost—already unmakeable, already unreachable, already unmeasurable, already undividable—can one attain the marvelous transformations of spirit.
It may be called Heaven, may be called Fate, may be called Spirit, may be called Origin; and Heaven, Fate, Spirit, and Origin—joined together, they are Dao.
He says: There is no thing that is not Heaven; no thing that is not Fate; no thing that is not Spirit; no thing that is not Origin. Since things are thus, how could humans be otherwise? All humans may be called Heaven; all humans may be called Spirit; all humans may be said to reach Fate and penetrate Origin. Do not say that that Heaven is Heaven and this is not Heaven; that Spirit is Spirit and this is not Spirit; that Fate is Fate and this is not Fate; that Origin is Origin and this is not Origin. Therefore one who is good at my Dao, in a single thing, knows Heaven and exhausts Spirit, reaches Fate and creates Origin. In learning, follow the different names and analyze the shared substance. On attainment, covenant with the shared substance and forget the different names.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Things undergo change, yet never leave their root; never leave their change; never leave their fixity; never leave their tendency. Only tendency is what is born from outside; change is what is completed from within.
Therefore every thing must have Heaven, must have Fate, must have Spirit, must have Origin. Heaven is the tendency of its momentum; Fate is the fixity of its momentum; Spirit is the change of its momentum; Origin is the root of its momentum.
Since things are thus, and humans are among things, humans have Heaven, humans have Spirit, humans have Fate, humans have Origin. To reach Fate enables one to penetrate Origin. Therefore a human's Heaven is also a thing's Heaven; a human's Spirit is also a thing's Spirit; a human's Fate is also a thing's Fate; and a human's Origin is also a thing's Origin.
Therefore in our school's learning, whenever one thing is obtained, one may observe its Heaven, observe its Fate, observe its Spirit, observe its Origin—and that Origin is my Origin; that Heaven is my Heaven; that Fate is my Fate. Thus one may know Heaven and exhaust Spirit, may reach Fate and penetrate Origin.
Therefore take heaven, earth, and the myriad things as teachers. To study its learning and principle closely, is only to seek difference from sameness, and analyze sameness from difference. Whenever the essentials are obtained, covenant with the shared substance and forget the different names—this is obtaining its reality without naming.
He says: Observing Dao is like observing water. If observing a mere pond seems insufficient, then go to the river, the great river, the sea, and say the water is thereby reached. Little do you know that the humors, saliva, and tears of my own body are also water.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The highest good is like water. The observer of Dao follows the nature of water—its virtue moistens downward, at times without constant form, coiling and unfurling at will. Yet observing the water of a single pond, one can scarcely know the nature of rivers, lakes, and seas. Therefore observe it in the river, observe it in the great river, observe it in the sea—whatever is water, observe it all. Yet one does not know that one's own humors and tears are also water. Though observing the outer, also do not forget the inner.
He says: Dao has no person; the sage does not see that A is Dao and B is not Dao. Dao has no self; the sage does not see that self advances in Dao or self retreats from Dao. Because one does not possess Dao, therefore one does not lack Dao; because one does not obtain Dao, therefore one does not lose Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Dao is not, in its nature, possessed by humans; heaven, earth, and the myriad things also possess it. Therefore the sage does not see what is Dao and what is not Dao. Dao is not the self; therefore the sage does not see what is advancing in Dao and what is retreating from Dao. Thus one can see Dao everywhere, and never leave Dao. If one obtains what cannot be obtained, then there is no worry of losing Dao.
He says: One who does not know Dao and guesses at it at random is like guessing what is hidden under an overturned bowl. Hold it high, and one imagines gold or jade; hold it level, and one imagines horn or feather; hold it low, and one imagines tile or stone. Is it so, or is it not so? Only the one who placed the object knows.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: One who does not know Dao, guessing as if something were covered, sees its image as high and guesses gold and jade; sees its image as level and guesses horn and feather; sees its image as low and guesses tile and stone. But whether it is true or not is likewise unknown—only the one who placed the object knows.
When humans observe the world, there is what can be sensed and there must be what cannot be sensed. Describing its image by what can be sensed is also like guessing what is covered, also like a blind man feeling an elephant—each grasping a single strand, none knowing its original face.
He says: One mass of clay can fashion ten thousand vessels, yet in the end no vessel can make the potter or harm the potter. One Dao can make the myriad things, yet in the end no thing can make Dao or harm Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Here clay is used as a metaphor. Clay can fashion ten thousand vessels because its form is pliable—yet its substance is formless in itself. Therefore though its form may be broken, its substance is not destroyed; even in non-being it cannot be destroyed.
He says: Dao is vast and without knowledge; mind is free and without fetters; things succeed one another without error. Is lightning darting? Is sand flying? The sage knows that mind is one, and Dao is one. The three again join into one. Do not use one to box the non-one; do not use the non-one to harm one.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The sage is not constrained by fixed patterns; according to momentum, one changes; with the time, one transforms. Therefore one does not use one to box the non-one, nor the non-one to harm one. Thus though one has insight into things, one does not box the unseen by what has been seen.
He says: Take a basin as a pond, a stone as an island; fish swim circles around them, unaware of tens of thousands of miles and no end. Why is this? Water has no source and no return. The sage's Dao, at its root has no head and at its end no tail—and therefore responds to things without exhaustion.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: If a basin is taken as a pond, as if it were the five lakes and four seas, and a stone as an island, as if it were mountains, rivers, and continents—such a fishbowl, though extremely narrow, the fish swim in a boundless course, only because the circuit closes them in. Therefore the sage's Dao has neither head nor tail; it is like a ring, and therefore can circulate without end, gathering heaven and earth within the palm.
He says: Do not love Dao—what loves is Water. Do not observe Dao—what observes is Fire. Do not chase Dao—what chases is Wood. Do not speak Dao—what speaks is Metal. Do not think Dao—what thinks is Earth. Only the sage does not leave the original feeling and yet ascends the Great Dao. When mind has not yet sprouted, Dao also lends itself.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Dao has an original feeling, comprising five: loving Dao exhausts its feeling; observing Dao investigates its root; chasing Dao seeks its traces; speaking Dao discusses its principle; analyzing Dao discerns its subtleties. There is also the way of the contrary—the unloving, unobserving, unchasing, unspeaking, unthinking. Those who drown in the original feeling cannot yet obtain Dao; those who leave the original feeling are also far from Dao. Therefore the sage's Dao does not leave the original feeling. “Sprouted” means “seen”—saying mind has not sprouted means it has not yet issued forth. When Fire issues forth, it must overcome—therefore Dao also lends itself.
He says: Heavy clouds veil the sky; rivers and lakes darken; swimming fish are at a loss. Suddenly they see bright waves and stirring food—grace from Heaven—and dart toward it, only to be caught on the hook and perish. Not knowing that I am without self yet chasing Dao is also like this.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: This speaks of fish whose greed for bait dims their vision. Therefore one who does not know that the self is without self—such a one, in chasing Dao, departs from Dao.
He says: There are many methods and arts under Heaven. Some favor the obscure, some favor the manifest, some favor the strong, some favor the weak. To cling to them is all affairs; not to cling to them is all Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Technique is the method that unfolds Dao; but one who clings to technique departs from Dao. Though strong in technique, one who does not cling to technique—this is Dao. Therefore those who favor the obscure: Dao does not lie in the obscure; those who favor the manifest: Dao does not lie in the manifest; those who favor the strong: Dao does not lie in the strong; those who favor the weak: Dao does not lie in the weak. Whether obscure or manifest, strong or weak—one who clings to traces is not Dao; one who leaves the traces and knows its non-being—this is Dao. Therefore good going leaves no wheel-ruts.
He says: Dao ultimately cannot be obtained. What can be obtained is named virtue, not Dao. Dao ultimately cannot be practiced. What can be practiced is named conduct, not Dao. The sage uses what can be obtained and practiced to make good my life; uses what cannot be obtained and practiced to make good my death.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The meaning is very clear; therefore it is abbreviated.
He says: After hearing Dao, to have something one does and something one clings to is what makes a human; to have nothing one does and nothing one clings to is what makes Heaven. What does must fail; what clings must lose. Therefore one who hears Dao in the morning can die at dusk.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: “Having heard the Dao in the morning, it is enough to die in the evening.” If one clings to Dao, what one does makes a human—and what one does must have a time of failure, what clings must have a time of loss. Therefore though one hears Dao in the morning, it is enough to die also in the evening.
He says: One feeling dark is the sage; one feeling good is the worthy; one feeling evil is the petty person. One feeling dark goes from being to non-being, and cannot be shown. One feeling good and evil goes from non-being into being, and cannot be hidden. One feeling good and evil is knowing, and only animals have it; one feeling dark is unknowing. Under all heaven, Dao is nowhere absent.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The dark can be the sage, the good can be the worthy, the evil can be the petty—in one feeling. The sage's Dao lies in its darkness. What is “dark”? When a single thought arises, from non-being into being—it is therefore in its non-being. Yet non-being is also easy to seek, and therefore not the final answer. Where it resides, there is no form and no image, faint and obscure, before the Image Emperor. Therefore one does not say non-being, but says its darkness. The division between good and evil only animals have; the darkness of one feeling—this heaven, earth, and the myriad things all have. Therefore it is said Dao is nowhere absent.
He says: Do not, because the sage acts without ceasing, then say Dao is accomplished through diligence; do not, because the sage firmly holds without changing, then say Dao is obtained through clinging. The sage's acting is like shooting an arrow—according to the target one acts, not by self-will. The sage's holding is like gripping a bowstring—according to the target one holds, not by self-holding.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: If one does not know Dao, one is only like a headless fly crashing about in all directions—diligent yet accomplishing nothing, clinging yet achieving nothing. Therefore one must first know, before one can follow its tracks and lock onto its target. This is like loosing a bow and arrow: the arrow follows the target and travels, not wandering at will. Also like drawing the bow: according to the target one gathers one's force, not relying on force of self.
He says: If one seeks Dao through speech and conduct, through learning and knowledge, mutual round-trippings without end—there is no time of attainment. Knowing speech is like a spring singing; knowing conduct is like a bird flying; knowing learning is like snatching a shadow; knowing knowledge is like counting dreams. When not a single breath remains, Dao will come to covenant.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Speech, conduct, learning, and knowledge all contain Dao, yet Dao cannot be sought through them—for Dao circulates without ceasing, turning and flowing without rest. Seeking it through these is like carving the boat to find the sword: knowing without being able to act—all empty words. If there is no single breath tied to it, in the end it is only dream and phantom.
He says: To build things through affairs is hard; to abandon things through Dao is easy. Under heaven, nothing is hard to complete and easy to ruin.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Omitted.
He says: A single spark can burn the myriad things—when things are gone, where does the fire remain? A single breath of Dao can extinguish the myriad things—when things are gone, where does Dao lie?
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: This is a rhetorical question. The answer: fire exists before things are gone. And that a single breath of Dao extinguishes the myriad things—also within a single breath before things are gone. So ask where Dao lies: a single breath covenants in darkness and can put the world outside; if breath after breath continues without break, one can be morning-clear and without past or present. With neither past nor present, the sage watches things without their perishing; without perishing, there is no birth and no death—and Dao, from this, is revealed.
He says: Human life in the world—some die after living one day, some after ten years, some after a hundred years. One who dies in a day is like one who obtains Dao in a single breath; one who dies after ten or a hundred years is like one who obtains Dao through long ages. Those who have not yet died, though their actions display cleverness, are only called living, not called dead. Those who have not yet covenanted with Dao, though their actions display cleverness, are only called affairs, not called Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Whoever has not yet covenanted with Dao has life but no death, and is therefore incomplete. Therefore one must undergo a great death and then live—like a fire burned out and extinguished; at the place of total extinguishing, at the extreme, a pearl is born, and living begins again. Thus living dying, dying dying, living living—only then is Dao covenanted.
He says: Not knowing my Dao is without speech and without action, yet taking what has speech and action as Dao—if one suddenly encounters a strange thing and wrongly grasps it as Dao—one does not realize that abandoning the source to seek the stream, one never obtains the source; abandoning the root for the end, one never obtains the root.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Dao is without speech and without action; ordinary people do not know it. Those with speech and action probe the obscure and pursue the strange, mistaking them for Dao—yet do not realize that descending to the root and flowing to the end, abandoning the root for the end, they no longer know its source. People know the reason why the spirit is spirit; they do not know the reason why the un-spirit is spirit.
He says: Practicing archery, practicing charioteering, practicing the qin, practicing chess—in the end not a single one of these can be attained in a single breath. Only Dao is without form and without place, and therefore can be attained in a single breath.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The six arts, though they can connect with Dao, are like those who die after ten or a hundred years—obtaining Dao only through long ages. Yet there is also the Dao of a single breath, only within an instant. Why is this? Because Dao is without form and without place—therefore it can be so.
He says: When two archers meet, skill and clumsiness are revealed; when two chess players meet, victory and defeat are revealed; when two Dàos meet, there is nothing to show. What has nothing to show has no skill and no clumsiness, no victory and no defeat.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Compared in things, things have their differences; contended in ability, abilities have their distinctions. If one does not contend, if one does not compare, all are merely things. Therefore analyze the shared substance—take this as the method.
He says: My Dao is like the sea. Cast in a hundred million gold—you cannot see it; cast in a hundred million stones—you cannot see it; cast in a hundred million filth and refuse—you cannot see it. It can move small shrimp and small fish; it can move great kun and great whales. Gathering the myriad waters and receiving them, it is not thereby full; scattering the myriad waters and parting them, it is not thereby lacking.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Worldly people do not see Dao because Dao is great—like casting objects into the great sea, one cannot see their tracks. Yet though Dao is great, its greatness has nothing beyond; its smallness likewise has nothing within. Therefore it can move fish and shrimp, can move kun and whales. Its circulation has no fixed place; according to momentum it moves—like the myriad waters gathering and scattering, not thereby full, not thereby lacking.
He says: My Dao is like dwelling in darkness. One who dwells in the light does not see a single thing in darkness; one who dwells in darkness can see every matter in the light.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Omitted.
He says: The petty person's weight returns to evil; the gentleman's weight returns to good; the sage's weight returns to having-nothing-obtained. Only having-nothing-obtained is therefore Dao.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: The petty person's conduct is evil; the gentleman's conduct is good; the sage's conduct is having-nothing-obtained. What is having-nothing-obtained? Like the way of governance: it lies not in many complications, but in not needing them.
He says: My Dao is like a sword. With the edge you cut things, and it is sharp; with your hand you grasp the edge, and you are cut.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: This is the meaning of the double-edged sword.
He says: The bamboo tray does not question the bean; the bean does not answer the tray. Tile does not question stone; stone does not answer tile. Dao is not thereby lost. Question and answer—one qi going and coming—where is Dao?
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: Though things among things have no question and answer, Dao is still present. Therefore without question and answer, Dao is still present.
He says: One who looks up to Dao stands on tiptoe; one who runs after Dao gallops hard—both know the affairs of Dao, not the Dao of Dao. Therefore the sage does not hope for Dao and feel short, does not rely on Dao and feel full, does not lend Dao to the sage, does not sell Dao to the fool.
Commentary by Sanfu Fengyunyong: To know without acting, one lingers and cannot go. Yet speech has inner and outer: the outer is affairs, the inner is Dao. People mostly know its affairs, but not its Dao. Therefore the way of being sage does not display sageliness, does not deceive fools, does not rely on seeking, does not belittle itself.