致虚极，守静笃。
Empty it to the limit. Hold stillness firm.
万物并作，吾以观复。
The ten thousand things rise together — and I watch them return.
夫物芸芸，各复归其根。归根曰静，静曰复命。
Things bloom and multiply, then each goes back to its root.
Going back to the root is called stillness. Stillness is called returning to what you were given.
复命曰常，知常曰明。不知常，妄作凶。
Returning to what you were given is called the constant. Knowing the constant is called clarity.
Not knowing the constant, you act at random — and that brings trouble.
知常容，容乃公，公乃王，王乃天，天乃道，道乃久，没身不殆。
Knowing the constant, you can hold. Holding, you can be fair.
Fair, you can lead. Leading, you can meet heaven.
Meeting heaven, you meet the way. Meeting the way, you last.
To the end of your days, no danger.
Reading it
This is the chapter the whole practice rests on. "Return" is not a metaphor — it is what you actually observe if you sit still long enough. Thoughts come, thoughts go, the same ones come back. Seasons do this. Markets do this. Grief does this. The person who has watched the return is not surprised by it, and a person who is not surprised does not panic. That is the entire promise: not control, but the end of being ambushed.
Sit for ten minutes. Count breaths to ten, then start again. When you notice you have drifted, that noticing is the practice.