This version of the Dao De Jing, translated by Richard John Lynn, comes highly recommended for those not seeking the touchy feely Laozi. Instead, it is a translation for those intrigued by ancient Chinese thought. It is truly a wonderful translation.

The Dao De Jing was likely written, by an unknown author or authors, in the fourth century B.C.E. It is primarily directed at the ruler who aspires to be a sage-king and is mainly concerned with attaining the good society through harmony with nature. This version includes an interpretation of the text written by Wang Bi (226 - 49 C.E.) shortly before his untimely death. Both Wang Bi and the translator of this edition, Richard John Lynn, have preserved the original intention of the Dao De Jing by not introducing any mystical or religious concepts, which by Wang Bi's time were part of the popular perception of Daoism.

In reading this version, I can perceive more clearly than in most others three strands of thought. (I recognize that this can be sliced in many other ways. For example, see Michael Lafarge's quite good translation.) The first strand is essentially a description of how the sage-ruler behaves and develops, 'De' (virtue, potential). The second strand is a guide to self-cultivation, on how to become a sage, and the third is an articulation of the basis for the other strands (and everything else, 'the myriad of things'), the 'Tao' (the nature of the universe). These strands are not discrete but rather presented as a synthesis.

As noted above, both Wang Bi and Lynn have eschewed mystical language, resulting in many terms being translated differently from what readers of other translations are accustomed to. For instance, "wuwei," usually translated as "no action," is here presented as "no conscious effort." The significance of this is that "no action" implies that the agent achieves ends by doing nothing, a mystical concept that captures the modern reader's imagination. The words "no conscious effort" suggest more of a lack of purpose. The ruler acts not for his own ends but in accordance with the unfolding nature of the universe, the Tao. To act out of the Tao is to act out of nothingness, as opposed to acting out of the myriad of things that will mislead and lead to disaster.

Wang Bi commences his introduction to the work with "The way things come into existence and efficacy comes about is that things arise from the formless and efficacy emanates from the nameless. The formless and the nameless [Dao] is the progenitor of the myriad of things." I tend to view this as I do the concept of the "big bang" in popular physics. There is nothing, and then there is an explosion from which all that exists emanates. The "Dao" is the ever-expanding universe and everything that exists and occurs within it. (This last part is entirely my own fabrication to put the concept into terms I can understand. It works for me for now.)

Thus, the Dao is conceived of as emerging from nothing and being ever-changing. It cannot be named because it does not exist as a thing. It has no form or substance and is always in the process of becoming. It cannot be known. To act in accordance with it is therefore to act in accordance with the changing universe as an unfolding, not as a thing to be learned.

The process of becoming a sage is thus a process of becoming aware of how the Dao unfolds. To know the essence of the Dao is to know that it is empty, that it is nothing. To understand this is to be 'authentic'. I grappled with Lynn's translation of "zhen" as 'authentic' due to the connotations carried by that English term, especially as we use it in terms of 'being authentic to the self'. Lafargue translates "Zhen" as 'genuineness', which, for me, carries the same meaning but without the same connotations. "Zhen" is used to refer to the relation to the emptiness of the Dao. One thus becomes 'authentic', not by aligning one's life with the self, but by developing an ever-changing, ever-becoming self that moves with the Dao and thus acts with the Dao. The sage-king is one who rules with the Dao by taking action only within the emptiness of the Dao. In other words, the sage-king goes with the flow.

This is a very different way of conceiving of the world and how we respond within it. Unlike Western thinkers, the ancient Chinese thinkers did not value learning about the world. Nor did they look to an afterlife, ancestors, or gods to bring their lives into harmony with the universe. (I shall continue to read this material until I can feel as if I truly understand it.)

This should be read by every politician.

In a nutshell, politicians need to learn to be chill. In the highly charged and often chaotic political arena, remaining calm and composed is crucial. Reacting impulsively or with excessive emotion can lead to hasty decisions and negative consequences.

Secondly, they must use their powers wisely. With great power comes great responsibility. Politicians should make decisions that are in the best interests of the people they represent, rather than for personal gain or to satisfy a particular agenda.

Finally, politicians need to get along with all the nuts. This means being able to work with people who have different views, opinions, and personalities. It requires patience, understanding, and the ability to find common ground. By doing so, they can build coalitions and achieve positive change for their constituents.

Farzaneh, let go of pride.

Aboleh strives for pride.

Let Farzaneh leave the world, not remain without doing.

Aboleh, the leader of our work, has a lot of work remaining...

*******

Trusting in hope is the hope of Farzaneh.

Learning to write is learned...

*******

Why is the sea obedient to a hundred streams?

It is flowing towards its destination.

Be a guide for people,

Be prosperous.

********

Knowledge is power to ignorance.

Ignorance to ignorance is trouble.

The troubled is not troubled by trouble.

It is Farzaneh...

*******

Man comes tired and lazy.

The road is dry and hard.

The plants are green, gentle and soft.

Sometimes they die, withered and dry.

The dry and hard ones die.

The tired and soft ones find life...

My initial encounter with the Tao Te Ching was through the D.C. Lau translation. Subsequently, I delved into the Ralph Alan Dale translation. And now, for the third time, I have explored the Ursula K. Le Guin version. I firmly believe that it was Lau's translation that had the most profound impact on me.

Le Guin's version indeed has its own allure, yet the accompanying commentary left me somewhat longing for more. I would have preferred a greater abundance of historical notes, which could have placed Lao Tzu's discussions within a more comprehensive context. Le Guin seems to be more concentrated on how the Tao Te Ching can be relevant and applicable to our contemporary world, encompassing modern politics as well.

I vividly recall the significant effect this book had on me during my first reading, which was approximately four years ago. Perhaps the teachings I gleaned from it have now become deeply ingrained within me. However, during my second reading, I didn't experience the same intense reaction. The downside of the Tao Te Ching, as I perceive it, is its inherent vagueness, which sometimes leads to what appears to be frustrating contradictions. In a sense, I suppose this is part of its charm, as it imparts the wisdom of simply flowing through obstacles and attaining peace through non-resistance.

This is not to suggest that the text lacks comfort; on the contrary, this is where its value lies. For many individuals (myself included during my first reading), the Tao Te Ching can serve as an effective balm for depression. To the focused reader, it is undoubtedly uplifting. Nevertheless, as effective as it may be as a salve, I am somewhat hesitant to wholeheartedly support the idea of simply flowing through one's problems. This is where I encounter much of the difficulty I have with a great deal of spirituality in general, and it is particularly prominent in this case. According to the Tao Te Ching, the true path to happiness does not lie in resolving obstacles or defeating problems but rather in a sense of ignoring them. When faced with absolute despair, this may perhaps be a rather good approach. But as a path to self-actualization? I remain skeptical.

I have delved deeper into the ‘Tao Te Ching’ in my review of the more scholarly translation by D.C.Lau. His translation includes a wonderful introduction and two very informative appendices. However, Ursula K. Le Guin’s rendition of the classic is also unique. Her talent as a writer, poet, and student of the Tao shines through the 126-page book. She takes liberty in changing certain phrases to relate more to the everyday individual, while still showing respect to the material. Her honest commentary in the Chapter Notes and Footnotes is phenomenal. In addition to her commentary on the chapters, she also brings her own insight to the questionable origins of the text through analysis of the poem structures. I thoroughly enjoyed this rendition and am curious to read ‘The Lathe of Heaven’ to see the influence of her study of Taoism on the work.

4.5 ⭐


I have delved deeper into the ‘Tao Te Ching’ in my review of the more scholarly translation by D.C.Lau which you can find HERE.
In this space I just want to focus on what Ursula K. Le Guin brings to the table and what exactly makes her rendition of the classic, unique from the plethora of other translations and renditions that are available.


I have to commend D.C.Lau for his fantastic translation of the Tao. But Ursula’s talent as a writer, poet, and student of the Tao is also evident throughout the book. Le Guin takes liberty in changing certain phrases to relate more to the everyday individual. I love her confidence in re-interpreting the ancient work. Her honest commentary in the Chapter Notes and Footnotes is also very insightful.


\\n  ”Most translations have caught meanings in their net, but prosily, letting the beauty slip through. And in poetry, beauty is no ornament; it is the meaning.”\\n


In addition to her commentary on the chapters, Le Guin also brings her own insight to the questionable origins of the text through analysis of the poem structures within. Her keen mind allows her to make interesting observations about the text. I thoroughly enjoyed this rendition and am looking forward to reading more of her work.


\\n   “The way is more than the cycle of any individual life. We, rise, flourish, fail. The way never fails. We are waves. It is the sea.\\n

The Tao is truly the most exquisitely elusive and intangible philosophy that I've had the fortune to attempt to understand. Every aspect of it is steeped in mystery and mysticism, right down to its purported author, the enigma that is Lao Tzu. I made a concerted effort to fathom the meaning of each and every poem. I read Ursula K. Le Guin’s rendition alongside this more scholarly translation by D.C. Lau and listened to multiple audio versions during my commute to and from work. However, I still feel that I've only scratched the surface of Lao Tzu’s profound words. This doesn't particularly surprise me as people dedicate their entire lives to studying the Tao and attempting to adhere to ‘The Way’. One doesn't simply read this on a whim and suddenly start living the Tao. In fact, in my view, if one were to take Lao Tzu’s words to heart, one would likely conclude that as a people, we've strayed so far from the path that getting back on it would require an unrealistically monumental shift in our worldview, philosophy, and ideology.

The book revels in its own mystery. As Le Guin so aptly states in her rendition, there is a “temptation… to grasp at something tangible in the endlessly deceptive simplicity of the words”, but on occasion, the slipperiness of the idea is the idea itself.

You can't label or define the Tao as doing so would limit its inherently limitless function. All we can know is that it was “born before heaven and earth” and sustains the universe. It is responsible for the strong being strong and equally for the weak being weak. We may not be able to define it, but we can surely discuss the concepts that构成 the Taoist teachings.

The Tao Te Ching is not just about an individual's way of living in harmony with the Tao. Lao Tzu also comments on the perils of wealth and living beyond our basic needs, as well as expressing his views on governance and anti-violence sentiments. Lao Tzu was, in many ways, an anti-capitalist and anarchist avant la lettre. He condemns those who amass great wealth while others starve, calling them “robbers”. His views on governance advocate for minimal interference in the affairs of the people, comparing it to “boiling a small fish” – too much handling can spoil it.

This specific edition features a magnificent and comprehensive introduction by Lau, where he offers his own thoughtful and scholarly insights into some of the key concepts that can be gleaned from the text. He also delves into the history of the text and the period in which it was traditionally thought to have been compiled, addressing the inconsistencies within it. Lau presents convincing arguments suggesting that the book was likely not the work of a single wise old sage named Lao Tzu, but rather a compilation of the thoughts of many different Taoist thinkers, their disciples, and later commentators. While I, personally, would prefer to hold onto the idea of an ancient sage like Lao Tzu, it's difficult to ignore the possibility that the text may have a more complex origin.

I truly love this book. It has an incredibly grounding effect on me. It is not just an ordinary book that you read once and then forget. Instead, it is the kind of book that demands to be read multiple times. Each time you pick it up, you discover new layers and insights that you might have missed before. The words seem to come alive on the page, drawing you in and making you feel as if you are a part of the story. It has the power to transport you to another world, while also teaching you valuable lessons about life. This book is a treasure, and I will cherish it always.

This version truly frustrates me to a great extent. The main reason lies in Stephen Mitchell's arrogance in writing it, which I will elaborate on shortly. It's important to note that this is not a direct translation (thankfully, Mitchell was kind enough to clarify this in the back of the book); rather, it's a translation of various translations. The issue with this approach is that a translation of a translation ends up similar to a copy of a copy. While some of the original words and phrases can still be identified, a significant amount is lost or distorted.

For instance, let's look at a good translation of the first line of Chapter 3 by D.C. Lau: "Not to honor men of worth will keep the people from contention." Now, compare this to Stephen Mitchell's translation of the same line: "If you overesteem great men, / people become powerless." The original Wang Bi character in question is 爭, or zhēng, which means "dispute," "strive," "contend," "fight," etc. It does not mean "powerless." By taking liberties with the translation, Mitchell alters the meaning of the text. While this may not significantly affect the understanding of those already familiar with Taoism and its literature, it can mislead those new to Taoism who are seeking an authentic introductory text to understand the philosophy.

As I mentioned earlier, what really irks me is Mitchell's arrogance regarding his version of the text compared to the original Chinese versions and the translations that adhere more closely to their meaning. In the question-and-answer section at the back of the book, the querent remarks: "But it's one thing to translate Rilke and the Book of Job when you read German and Hebrew; it's quite another to translate books like the Tao Te Ching, the Bhagavad Gita, or Gilgamesh without any knowledge of the original languages." Mitchell's response is: "Yes, it's a different kind of venture, but not so different as you might think. Of course, I wouldn't dare work with a text that I didn't feel deeply connected to--I used to speak of my 'umbilical connection' to Lao-tzu. I had discovered the Tao Te Ching shortly before I began Zen training in 1973." Later, the querent asks: "You knew what Lao-tzu was talking about, through direct experience [in Zen meditation] of your own?" And Mitchell replies: "That's where my confidence came from." Essentially, Mitchell is claiming that his text is authentic because of his felt spiritual connection to its author, rather than it being an accurate translation of the text. But shouldn't the best translation be authentic on multiple levels, both emotionally and literally? However, if I had to choose, I would rather read a translation that is accurate and discover the emotional resonance on my own. Also, it's important to note that Zen is a school of Buddhism, not Taoist, although it was influenced by Taoism. They share some similar values and qualities, but they are distinct.

Mitchell continues: "There was also the excitement of the aesthetic challenge. Some calculated that by 1986 there were 102 translations of the Tao Te Ching into English alone. I had read six or seven of them, and although I loved the content, the language was mediocre at best: not much poetry in it, not much sparkle. This may sound arrogant too, and irrational. How can you fall in love with a book whose actual words bore you? But that's what happened." This sentiment, I believe, is the root of all the problems I have with the text. It's completely contrary to the Taoist philosophy. If Mitchell had paid attention to even his own version of the last chapter, 81, which reads: "True words aren't eloquent; / eloquent words aren't true," he would have realized the folly of his approach. Instead, he decided to cut entire paragraphs, rearrange the remaining words, and even alter the meaning to better suit his aesthetic values. His disregard for accuracy and his preference for his concept of beauty over truth not only shows a complete lack of respect for the text, the tradition, and its culture of origin; it's also just not scholarly.

Another interesting admission by Mitchell is that he spent only four months writing this version. "By contrast," he says, "it had taken me seventeen years to finish my translation of the Book of Job. So, obviously, I was getting more focused, or more efficient..." I disagree with him on this point. It's not at all obvious to me that he was any more focused or more efficient. The vast difference in the time spent translating Job and rewriting the Tao Te Ching instead suggests to me that he worked very hard to faithfully render the former and simply cobbled together the latter. Mitchell actually reads and understands Hebrew, so it's likely that he was aware of the nuances of the language and therefore understood the importance of accurately translating the text into English. However, Mitchell doesn't read any Chinese. If the language is incomprehensible to him, how can he possibly grasp the nuances of the characters in order to accurately translate them for others?

This isn't to say that his version is completely wrong. There are many sections that are fairly accurate (like the line in Chapter 81 that I mentioned earlier). But there are also numerous places in his text where the inaccuracies go so far as to misinterpret the core concepts of the belief system.

So, if you're new to Taoism and are looking for a translation that accurately conveys Taoist beliefs and sensibilities, I would recommend that you look elsewhere. There are many other translations that more accurately render the Tao Te Ching in English. Each of these translations has its own unique "flavor" and may contain slightly different words or rhythms, but most aim to faithfully present an accurate translation of the text that, while not meeting every culture's aesthetic requirements, is very beautiful in its own way and has a wealth of wisdom to offer, regardless of cultural and generational differences in taste. Here's a good website to get you started: http://wengu.tartarie.com/wg/wengu.ph... The site provides not only several different translations but also the original Wang Bi text with translations of each character.

If, on the other hand, you're already familiar with the Tao Te Ching and other Taoist literature, Mitchell's book can at least serve as a good example of Taoism's influence on contemporary American culture.

The Tao Te Ching is truly a remarkable work that shines with a gentle yet profound light. It holds a special place for me among other great works of wisdom such as Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, The Wisdom Books: Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes, and the Sermon on the Mount. These are all books that contain universal wisdom, truth, and the promise of peace. They are treasures that deserve to be read and re-read countless times.

What makes the Tao Te Ching particularly interesting is that its straightforward words often have a paradoxical quality. They seem to challenge our conventional ways of thinking and lead us to a deeper understanding of life and the world around us.

Whether you are seeking spiritual guidance, practical wisdom, or simply a new perspective on life, the Tao Te Ching is a book that is well worth exploring. Its teachings have endured for thousands of years and continue to inspire and enlighten people from all walks of life.

So, if you haven't already, I encourage you to pick up a copy of the Tao Te Ching and discover for yourself the wisdom and beauty that lies within its pages.

The description of this book is inaccurate.

"Like Stephen Mitchell, the renowned author and poet Ursula K. Le Guin has endeavored to create a nonliteral, poetic interpretation of the Tao Te Ching."

In fact, it is nothing like Mitchell's translation, which is beautiful yet completely impenetrable. Le Guin presents you with understandable ideas, arguments presented in poetry, and a philosophy worthy of deep thought. Among all the translations I have come across, this is the sole one that offers you a doorway into the vast and rich repository of ideas within the Tao Te Ching. Her work allows the reader to truly engage with and explore the profound wisdom contained within this ancient text, making it an invaluable addition to the study of Taoism and philosophy in general.

Sometimes it is necessary that we take some distance from our lives and stay a bit further away so that we can have a better and broader perspective on the conditions and matters that are happening around us.

Some times the best thing is to be an observer and a spectator of the flow of our lives from a distance and in silence. Just like a moviegoer, we lean back in our seats and watch our lives exactly like a viewer from behind the movie screen. When we learn how to be silent and a quiet observer, when we learn how to control our emotions and judgments and refrain from complaining and getting angry, that is the moment when we understand that life is about enduring difficulties and at the same time enjoying the small and transient moments of "tranquility". That is the moment when we learn that a person's existence becomes greater and deeper when they have experienced more difficult and numerous events and experiences, otherwise living always in our "safe zone" is no more than being dead.

The book "Tao Te Ching" was one of those beloved and fascinating books that explained the "right way of living" in the simplest and most beautiful possible form. I really liked the sense of peace and tranquility that was present throughout the book. And how instructive and valuable the writings of this Chinese philosopher were.

Celebrate life as it is. When you realize that there is no loss and no defect, the whole world will belong to you.

Highlights:

3 - Not collecting treasures prevents stealing. This emphasizes the idea that if we don't have a desire for excessive wealth and possessions, we can avoid the temptation of theft.

13 - Accept disgrace willingly. It suggests that one should have the courage and humility to accept difficult situations or criticism without getting overly defensive.

23 - He who does not trust will not be trusted. Trust is a two-way street, and if we are not willing to trust others, we cannot expect them to trust us in return.

46 - He who knows that enough is enough will always have enough. This teaches us the importance of being content with what we have and not constantly striving for more.

57 - The more rules and regulations, the more thieves and robbers there will be. It implies that excessive bureaucracy and strict laws may not necessarily lead to a reduction in crime, but rather create more opportunities for people to find loopholes or rebel.

Lowlights:

Eh, pretty much the whole translation. I guess this version is popular because it has nice calligraphy of the original Chinese and BW photos of nature accompanying the English translation. But despite not having read any of the other translations, I'm pretty sure this one is pretty bad. There is an essay by the editor at the end, where she tells the story of how the book came to be, 25 years ago, and she admits that she knows no Chinese. What she did was read the author's proposed translation, then read 12 other published translations of the same line, and then try to write something that had the author's idea but sounded different from the other 12 versions. That came as no surprise to me. Many, many lines read exactly like someone had gone through a thesaurus and chosen not the best word, or the second best, but yeah, about the 13th best word for the situation. Clunkity clunk. That's how I wrote social studies essays in fifth grade. Go through the encyclopedia and try to write the same thing but change a bunch of words. One day I will definitely read another version.