The middle of chapter eight is a list, and it is unusually concrete for a book that generally declines to give instructions.
In dwelling, keep to the ground. In thinking, keep to depth. In dealing with others, keep to kindness. In speaking, keep to what is so. In governing, keep to order. In work, keep to competence. In movement, keep to the right moment. Seven or eight fields depending on how the text is divided, each with a quality attached, and then the closing line: only by not contending does it stay free of blame.
The list is worth pausing on because it undercuts a common reading of the book as quietist. Nothing here recommends withdrawal. It assumes a person with a house, work, dealings, speech, and possibly a state to govern, and the advice about each is practical rather than mystical. Being good at the job is on the list.
What holds the list together is the framing water image on both sides of it. Each item is the watery version of its field: the ground rather than the height, depth rather than surface, timeliness rather than force. Read that way the chapter is not two things joined but a single argument, with the image establishing the principle and the list showing where it applies.
It is also one of the few places in the book where a reader can straightforwardly disagree, since order in governing and competence in work are not obviously compatible with the non-action recommended elsewhere.