Heaviness is the root of lightness. A ruler who does not value seriousness will not be respected; one who cultivates oneself without seriousness loses spiritual focus. The flowers and leaves of grasses and trees are light, hence they fall off; their roots are heavy, thus they endure for a long time. Stillness is the master of restlessness. A ruler who lacks stillness loses authority; one who does not cultivate stillness puts oneself in danger. The dragon, through stillness, can transform and change; the tiger, due to restlessness, suffers early decline.

Therefore, a sage travels all day but never leaves behind his essential provisions. Zhi means stillness. A sage walks the path all day, never departing from his stillness and seriousness. Though there may be splendid sights to behold, one dwells in leisure with a transcendent calm. Rongguan refers to palaces and gates. Yanchu is where the empress and consorts reside. Chao ran means to remain aloof and not dwell there.

Why do rulers of a ten-thousand chariot state — the phrase Naihe expresses sorrow and lamentation over the current ruler's plight — yet treat their person lightly in relation to the world? A sovereign is the most exalted, yet he treats his own body as light and restless. This expresses condemnation of a corrupt ruler's indulgence and recklessness. Lightness leads to losing one's ministers: if a sovereign is frivolous and licentious, he loses his officials; if one cultivates oneself with such lightness, one loses one's essence. Restlessness leads to losing the position of ruler: if a sovereign acts in haste and impatience, he loses his royal status; if one cultivates oneself hastily, one loses one's spirit and vitality.

This chapter stands as one of the clearest expressions in the Heshang Gong tradition of the dual application of Laozi's teaching: every principle that governs the cultivation of the self also governs the conduct of the ruler, and every failure of governance reflects a failure of inner cultivation.