If I were suddenly to become known, and (put into a position to) conduct (a government) according to the Great Tao, what I should be most afraid of would be a boastful display. The great Tao (or way) is very level and easy; but people love the by-ways. Their court(-yards and buildings) shall be well kept, but their fields shall be ill-cultivated, and their granaries very empty. They shall wear elegant and ornamented robes, carry a sharp sword at their girdle, pamper themselves in eating and drinking, and have a superabundance of property and wealth;--such (princes) may be called robbers and boasters. This is contrary to the Tao surely!
The chapter warns that when power arrives, the greatest danger is the temptation to show it off—to display wealth, status, and control rather than to serve quietly. People naturally drift toward the showy and neglected the essential; they decorate the surface while the real work (the fields, the stores, the foundation) falls into disrepair. True leadership according to the Tao is invisible and unglamorous—it keeps things level and easy, not ornate and boastful.
We live in an age of curated display: our accomplishments, possessions, and righteousness broadcast constantly. Nations flex military might and economic power while infrastructure crumbles and the hungry remain unseen. Even our recovery and spiritual seeking can become another ornament to wear. The chapter's mirror is sharp: we have made the byways—the shortcuts, the showy gestures, the performance of virtue—into highways, while the fields of genuine care, attention, and humble service grow wild and empty.
Today, notice where you are tempted to display rather than serve. When you feel the urge to announce a good deed, a success, or a belief, pause and ask: am I keeping the fields or decorating the courtyard? Let the truly useful things you do today go quietly, and watch what opens when you stop needing to be seen.