སྔོན་གྱི་ལྷག་པའི་ཚུལ་ཞེས་པ།

ལེའུ་འདི་ཅི་ཞིག་དང་འབྲེལ་བའི་གྱེར་ཚད་ཅི་ཞིག་ཡིན།

Chapter 15 describes the ancient masters who practiced the Way as having subtle, profound, and mysterious qualities that remain beyond comprehension. Through various metaphors—cautious like crossing a winter river, fearful like neighbors, dignified as a guest, melting like ice, pure as uncarved wood, vast as a valley, and turbid as muddy water—it illustrates their paradoxical nature. The chapter asks who can still the muddy and gradually make it clear, who can animate the still and gradually bring forth life. It concludes that those who preserve this way do not desire fullness; only by not being full can they remain hidden yet renewed.

འདི་ང་དང་ཇི་ལྟར་འབྲེལ་བ་ཡིན་ནམ?

I recognize myself in this description of the ancient masters who are cautious, pure, and paradoxical in nature. Like them, I too navigate life with hesitation and care, fearing what surrounds me, yet also possessing moments of clarity and renewal. The teachings of non-fulfillment and hiddenness remind me that true wisdom comes not from abundance but from restraint and the willingness to remain unknown, to transform gradually rather than forcefully. Their example shows me that true transformation happens slowly, through stillness and patience rather than striving for completion.

དེ་རིང་ང་ལ་ཅི་བྱ་རྒྱུ་ཡིན་ནམ?

Today I will practice being still in the face of confusion. When my mind feels turbid or unsettled, I will not rush to clarity but will sit quietly, allowing the mud to settle naturally. I will also practice restraint in speech and action, embracing incompleteness rather than grasping for fullness. I will observe my surroundings with gentle caution, like one crossing a winter river, neither too bold nor too fearful. Finally, I will accept being 'hidden' in small ways—letting my good deeds go unnoticed without seeking recognition.