Chapter 6第6章

The spirit of the valley never dies — and they call her the mysterious feminine. The gateway of the mysterious feminine is the root from which heaven and earth spring. She is like a veil of gossamer, barely there, and yet she goes on and on without effort. You see, the valley is the symbol of emptiness that receives — like a womb. All the streams flow down into it naturally. It doesn't grasp or strain. This is the inexhaustible source, and it works precisely because it doesn't try.

The valley spirit never dies — this is called the mysterious feminine. And what I find so remarkable about this passage is that it locates the generative principle not in the phallic, not in the thrusting and assertive, but in the receptive, the valley, the hollow. The gateway of the mysterious feminine is the root of heaven and earth. This is the womb of being. It goes on and on, gossamer-thin, barely perceptible — and yet when you draw upon it, it is never exhausted. This is Lao-tzu's recognition that the creative principle in nature is fundamentally feminine — receptive, dark, yielding, and yet absolutely inexhaustible. It precedes patriarchal theology by pointing back to something far more ancient.

Wang Bi says the valley spirit is the center of the valley — formless, shadowless, offering no resistance, no opposition. It dwells low, remains still, and does not decay. The valley is completed through this spirit, yet you never see its form. This is the utmost extreme of emptiness at its very limit. It cannot be captured in a name, yet it is called the root of heaven and earth. 'Continuous, as if persisting' — the word 'as if,' ruo, is a word of indefiniteness. You cannot firmly declare that it is the root of heaven and earth; you can only say it is 'as if' persisting. Want to say it exists? You cannot see its form. Want to say it is gone? All the myriad things live through it. And so Wang Bi says: continuous, as if persisting — draw upon it and it is never exhausted. This is the beautiful paradox of the receptive: it accomplishes everything precisely because it claims nothing.

Wang Bi’s interpretation here is rigorously apophatic. The valley spirit is the center of the valley — without form, without shadow, without resistance, without opposition. It occupies the low position, remains still, and does not decay. The valley is constituted through it, yet its form is never visible. This is emptiness at its absolute limit. And then the epistemological hedge: it 'cannot be captured and called' the root of heaven and earth. The word ruo, 'as if,' is deliberately indeterminate. You cannot fix it. Want to call it existent? No visible form. Want to call it non-existent? All things live through it. So the formulation is: 'continuous, as if persisting — draw upon it and it is never exhausted.' What Wang Bi is doing philosophically is establishing a category that is neither being nor non-being but prior to both — a generative emptiness that is the source of all manifestation. The fundamental origin shares the same body with the ultimate extreme, and therefore it is called the root of heaven and earth. This is metaphysics operating at the boundary of what language can express.