《太上老君说常清静妙经纂图解注(王玠)》

I privately hold that one who can broadly transform and nurture the myriad things is called a sage, and that a sage who transforms and nurtures the myriad things through changes beyond all fathoming is called Shen (spirit). The Most High Lord Lao is incomparably sacred. He dwelt in the age when primordial chaos first opened; he is the source of the Qi (vital energy) of the myriad things, and his transformations are difficult to measure.

According to transmitted records, in the earliest period of the Three Sovereigns he was the Celestial Master (Tianshi) of the Myriad Methods; in the middle period of the Three Sovereigns he was called Master Pangu; in the later period of the Heavenly Sovereign he was called Yuhua Zi; and in the time of Shennong he was called Dacheng Zi. In the time of Xuanyuan he was a man of Mount Kongtong, styled Guangcheng Zi, and he transmitted the methods of the Dao (the Way) to Xuanyuan. In the time of Shaohao he took the name Suiying Zi; in the time of Emperor Zhuanxu he was styled Chijing Zi; in the time of Emperor Ku he was styled Lutu Zi; in the time of Emperor Yao he was styled Wucheng Zi; in the time of Emperor Shun he was styled Yinshou Zi; in the time of Yu of Xia he was styled Zhenxing Zi; and in the time of Tang of Shang he was styled Xize Zi. Although he manifested under different identities through successive ages, no account of his birth was left.

In the time of King Yangjia of Shang, he divided his bodily form and transformed into Qi, lodging as an embryo in the womb of the Mysterious and Wondrous Jade Maiden for eighty-one years. In the gengchen year of the reign of King Wuding of Shang, on the fifteenth day of the second month, at the mao hour, he was born at Quren Hamlet, Lai Township, Ku County, in the land of Chu. It is said that his mother grasped a plum tree and gave birth to him from her left side. At birth his beard and hair were entirely white, yet his face was that of a child; he therefore took Li as his surname, Er as his given name, and Boyang as his courtesy name, with Dan as his posthumous title, and the world calls him Laozi.

In the time of King Wen of Zhou, Laozi served as Keeper of the Archives, and under King Wu he was promoted to Historian Beneath the Pillar. He preserved plainness and original genuineness, thinking little and desiring little, and he met the affairs of the moment by means of the ancient Dao. He did not parade the Dao, nor did he display humble De (Virtue/Power). Inwardly he guarded his true nature and nourished his life; outwardly he kept far from harm and preserved himself. He was broadly learned in the ancient and the modern, and there was no principle he could not understand thoroughly. He once instructed Confucius in the east, so that Confucius exclaimed that he was as unfathomable as a dragon; later he went west to teach and transform the Golden Immortal (the Buddha), proclaiming the great Dao with imposing force.

Laozi wrote the five thousand words of the Daode Jing (Scripture of the Dao and De) and transmitted them to Yin Xi. Through age after age he transformed and manifested, teaching and transforming the people by means of the Dao. Seeing that people of the world cling in greed and confusion and do not know awakening, and thus lose the true nature originally theirs, he composed and expounded a one-scroll Qingjing Jing (Scripture of Clarity and Stillness) as the foremost of all scriptures. Its words are concise yet its principles profound. It reveals the root of life and death, promotes the mysterious Dao, guides people toward the Dao, and enables them to awaken to the principle of the three lives and to the true nature that passes through myriad kalpas without perishing.

I once studied this scripture again and again, yet I did not grasp its purport. Recently, after my teacher’s guidance, the apertures of my mind opened, and only then could I more readily comprehend the root of creative transformation and of true constancy. I also began to recognize the subtlety with which Fuxi—the legendary sage-king of high antiquity—drew the trigrams, and to understand Confucius’s intention in praising and expounding the Yijing. Inquiring further into the Golden Immortal’s way of prajñā (the wisdom spoken of in Buddhism), I found that they accord with one another, like the two halves of a tally.

The Most High Lord Lao is sagely and luminous, transcending life and death and standing alone, threading through past and present, with none who can compare. Therefore the rulers of successive ages have taken him as their standard, and the sages and worthies of successive ages have in turn transmitted his teaching. Some regard Daoism as an empty heterodoxy; this is to deny the sage and cast aside proper measure. The Dao is not originally far from human beings; it is human beings themselves who regard the Dao as remote. One who obtains the Dao may pass from ignorance to wisdom and from turbidity to clarity. One who cultivates the Dao may go from a state like stubborn stone to a firmness like gold, may go from an ordinary person to a sage, pass beyond the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm—and long remain a superior immortal. Is this principle not mysterious?

My learning is shallow, yet I have still matched this scripture, section by section, with the words of former sages and worthies and explained them below. I have also prepared diagrams, so that the scriptural text and the commentary connect, and I have tried from every side to make the meaning clear, so that one may understand it at a glance. Although my words are crude, they do no more than explain the meaning of the scripture directly; I dare not take myself to be in the right. I hope that those of like aspiration will examine them.

Preface by Hunranzi Wang Jie Daoyuan.

“Tai” means so great that nothing can be greater; “Shang” means so high that nothing can be higher; “Lao” means that the Dao (the Way) is incomparably venerable and that De (Virtue/Power) runs through past and present; “Jun” means sovereign, referring to the luminous spiritual nature as the master of all things. “Shuo” means to guide and instruct. “Chang” refers to the constant, unchanging Dao; “Qing” refers to the empty void without form; “jing” refers to purity without admixture; “Miao” refers to what is profound and mysterious, a realm one level deeper still. “Jing” (scripture/classic) refers both to the constant principles of the Dao of Heaven and to the path that everyone can follow.

The Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) saw that people lived in a disordered and turbid world, indulging in material desires and forgetting their original heavenly nature. Concerned that they were straying from the great Dao, he expounded the Scripture of Clarity and Stillness (Qingjing Jing) to instruct the world, so that people might understand the root and the secondary aspects of things.

At birth a person is like an infant, and the mind originally holds no evil thoughts. As the years increase, the eyes see colors, the ears hear sounds, the nose smells fragrances, and the tongue tastes flavors. Craving gradually never ceases, and ingrained habits grow ever deeper; one is then drawn along and obscured by passion and desire, and little by little turns away from the great Dao. If one can make the inner mind clear and the disposition settled, understand the principle of goodness, recover the original state, give rise to no deluded thoughts, and remain unstained by external things, one will naturally attain clarity and stillness and accord with the true Dao.

Lord Lao said: The great Dao has no form, yet it gives birth to Heaven and Earth; the great Dao has no feelings or intentions, yet it sets the sun and moon in motion; the great Dao has no name, yet it long nurtures the myriad things. The Dao brings all things into being, and all of this comes about of itself.

The Great Dao (the Way)—the fundamental Way of the cosmos—is utterly empty and still. It has no fixed substance, and is originally without form, without feeling, and without name. At the beginning of the great kalpa there already existed the three Qi (vital energy) of Fan, Qing, and Jing, together with the Qi of Taiqing (Great Clarity), Taiwei (Grand Tenuity), and Taisu (Great Simplicity). They lay hidden and formless, profound, murky, and undifferentiated, vast and without light; between Heaven and Earth there was only a single expanse of chaos.

Within the chaos there was nothing but Yin Qi. Inside and outside all was empty, yet within it lay the principle of the ceaseless vigor of Qian. When the Yin Qi had coiled and circulated to its extreme, a single Yang first stirred within, and the two transformations of odd and even arose. Yin-Yang were thereby differentiated, and Heaven and Earth came into being with them. Clear Qi rose to become Heaven; turbid Qi sank to become Earth. After Heaven and Earth had formed, the myriad things lived between them. Yin Qi rose from the ground and returned to Heaven; Yang Qi descended from Heaven and returned beneath the earth. Yin-Yang moved back and forth, cycling without cease. Thus the sun and moon traveled their courses, the five Qi (the five kinds of vital energy that constitute the myriad things and circulate in accord with Yin-Yang) were distributed and transformed in succession, the four seasons followed one another, and the myriad things were thereby able to grow and be nourished. Whether as great as Heaven and Earth or as small as a mote of dust, there is nothing that is not brought forth and nurtured by the transforming work of the Dao.

One who is skilled at investigating the Great Dao turns back to seek confirmation in himself: my body is a small Heaven and Earth. Although the Dao generates and nourishes me, it has no name; I therefore call it the “Dao.” The Daodejing says: “There is something undifferentiated and whole that had already arisen before Heaven and Earth. Silent and vast, it stands alone and does not change; it circulates all around and does not cease. It can serve as the root of all things under Heaven. I do not know its name; I provisionally call it ‘Dao,’ and reluctantly call it ‘great.’ To be great is to move without ceasing; to move without ceasing is to reach far; what reaches far will in the end return.” Therefore it is said that the Dao is great.

Since I do not know its name and can only reluctantly call it the “Dao,” who, after all, is the one who speaks of the “Dao”?

Taishang (an honorific in Daoism for the supreme deity) says: The Dao is vast and empty, and originally has no name. It does not establish a name out of nothing, but manifests its function by means of form. When the human body comes into being, it is originally one undifferentiated whole; who, then, is the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the root, before Yin-Yang have divided, from which the myriad things arise—within it?

The Supreme Lord Lao says: The Dao (the Way) is vast, emptily harmonious, and void and still, and from the beginning it has no fixed name. It does not stand on its own out of nothing, but shows itself and carries out its work by means of things that have form. When human life first arises, it is in an undifferentiated state, like Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate)—the fundamental condition in which the myriad things are not yet divided and Yin-Yang is about to be distinguished. The principles of heaven, earth, and the myriad things are all gathered within the human body and mind. When the heart-mind is pure, empty, and spiritually lucid, the Dao naturally comes to collect there.

Stillness is innate nature; movement is emotion. Nature governs what is within and is the root; emotion operates outwardly and is the function. Root and function issue from a single source, and from the hidden and subtle to the clear and manifest there is no break—this is what is called the Dao. What is meant by “Dao” is that Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) transform and give rise to bodily form, and that it is numinous, wondrous, empty, and spiritual. How could any fixed name fully explain it? Yet if one said nothing of it at all, by what would one call it? For this reason it is only provisionally named “Dao.”

The Daodejing (the Classic of the Dao and of De, Virtue/Power) says that the Dao, as the root of the myriad things, is elusive and hard to grasp: within its elusiveness there is yet an image; between seeming presence and absence there is yet a concrete thing; and in the deep, dim obscurity there is yet a true sign. Thus Yanzi, praising the Way of the sage, said: “I look up, and it seems all the higher; I bore into it, and it seems all the firmer; I see it as if before my eyes, and in a moment it seems to have gone behind me.” This is because the Dao spoken of in the Yijing (Book of Changes) has no fixed form, and its numinous transformations have no fixed place.

The Dao is distinguished as pure and turbid, and also as moving and still: heaven is pure and earth is turbid; heaven moves and earth is still; the male belongs to the pure and the moving, the female to the turbid and the still. The Dao spreads from the root toward the tips and thereby gives rise to the myriad things; after Qi has transformed, bodily form arises from this.

The Dao (the Way), as a mode of existence, is originally empty and formless; only through the transformations of Qi (vital energy) does it come to bear the name “Dao.” The Dao gives rise to the One, and the One gives rise to the Two; when the two Qi of Yin-Yang interact and unite, the myriad things are produced—this is the natural principle. The Dao exists prior to Heaven and Earth, embracing, covering, and upholding all things, silent and nameless; this is called the “True Reality of Wuji” (the original authentic state, boundless and limitless, formless and nameless).

Within Wuji, the Dao becomes manifest because emptiness and stillness have reached their utmost. When Yang Qi is stirred into motion, the myriad things are thereby opened and brought to free circulation. The development from Wuji to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate—the fundamental state prior to the formation of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things) is the result of the marvelous union and condensation of the two Qi of Yin-Yang with the Jing (essence) of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). When Taiji moves, it generates Yang; when it is still, it generates Yin. Yang Qi, being clear, becomes Heaven and presides over movement; Yin Qi, being turbid, becomes Earth and presides over stillness. Heaven covers Earth, and Earth upholds Heaven; Heaven moves while Earth is still, and the two Qi of Yin-Yang interact with one another.

The Yang Qi that stirs first forms the way of Yang; the Yin Qi that stirs first forms the way of Yin. What the Xici (Appended Statements) of the Yijing (Classic of Changes) means by “the way of Qian completes the male; the way of Kun completes the female” is precisely this principle. Men embody the nature of Heaven, and so are clear and inclined to movement; women embody the nature of Earth, and so are turbid and inclined to stillness. When men and women mutually resonate, and Yin and Yang join in free and unobstructed communion, true Jing—the essential Qi of life’s original authenticity—is released and spreads from the root toward the extremities, and thus the myriad things come into being. The generation of all things follows the same principle: Qi and physical form transform and circulate, each according to the begetting of like by like; through continual growth and change, the principle remains one consistent thread throughout. Confucius said, “The way of the noble person begins with husband and wife; carried to its utmost, it discerns Heaven and Earth.” This means that the way of the noble person starts from the relationship of husband and wife and, extended to the extreme, enables one to discern clearly the principles of Heaven and Earth.

Therefore, to follow the constant pattern of Yin-Yang transformation is to give rise to human beings and the myriad things; to reverse this process is to be able to become a Buddha or an immortal. The Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate composed by Zhou Dunyi deeply captures the essential point of this. Thus the noble subtlety of this Jing (scripture), in these few sentences alone, has already laid bare the root of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes).

From the perspective of Dandao (the way of the elixir—the methods of Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy), Heaven and Earth are likened to the furnace and cauldron, and male and female to Kan and Li (in the study of the Changes and in elixir practice, the trigrams representing water and fire, Yin and Yang). By the firm vigor of Qian one circulates Yang fire without cease—this is what is called Heaven being clear and the male being active; by the yielding compliance of Kun one withdraws and stores the Yin tally (in cultivation, the yin principle of circulation that stands opposite Yang fire), blending it and keeping it hidden—this is what is called Earth being turbid and the female being still. Because Yin-Yang holds the pivotal juncture of change between movement and stillness, the practitioner applies “extracting Kan to fill Li” (a Neidan term for regulating water and fire, Yin and Yang), returning to the root and restoring the source, and reverting to the Dao. This is like streaming the power of the root downward so as to generate and nourish the myriad things within oneself. The principle is simply this—what is there to doubt?

The pure is the source of the turbid, and movement is the foundation of stillness. Cultivation must return to the root and revert to the origin.

What is called the “pure” here refers to the primordial Yang ancestral Qi (vital energy)—the pure Yang Qi that comes from the Prior Heaven—while the “turbid” refers to the Yin Qi within the illusory bodily form. “Movement” is the numinous dynamism of Yang Qi, and “stillness” is the foundation of the heart-mind. After a person is born, the “Four Great Elements” that constitute the body (a term shared by Buddhism and Daoism, referring to earth, water, fire, and wind, the four factors that make up matter) all belong to Yin. Only a single point of primordial Yang ancestral Qi resides in the body’s true center, and this is called the “stem of life” (the root that sustains life). Where there is a stem, there is a root: Jing (essence) is the root, Qi is the stem, and Shen (spirit) is the master of root and stem. Once this principle is understood, one can preserve true nature: when Jing is abundant it can transform into Qi; when Qi is abundant it can transform into Shen; and when Shen is abundant it can transform into vacuity. In the end one stands independent in the void, unbound by birth and death.

In refining the elixir, one must circulate by means of the inner nature and shift the emotions outward; this is called “the pure is the source of the turbid.” Then, by means of the “two earths of Wu and Ji”—Earth among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), a term commonly used in the language of the elixir path—one gathers the Qi of the four directions and even of the ten directions, so that they converge and give rise to a numinous function; this is called “movement is the foundation of stillness.” The essential method must be transmitted by oral instruction.

If a person can constantly remain clear and quiet, heaven, earth, and the myriad things all return to the self. The heart-spirit should rest securely within the chest cavity.

What is called “constancy” is the ordinary and the everyday; what is called “clarity” is letting every clinging thought come to a stop; what is called “stillness” is that no stray thoughts arise in the mind. If, at every moment of daily life—whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down—a person can gather in scattered thoughts, guard the innate moral awareness, and keep the mind from chasing outward or being pulled by external things, so that the inner heart is empty, bright, and limpid and is wholly devoted to the Dao (the Way), then desire and resentment will naturally not arise. In this way Shen (spirit) becomes clear and lucid, Qi (vital energy) grows quiet, one’s nature and disposition settle, and life returns to peace; the Dao of Heaven and Earth then all converges within oneself.

Confucius said, “The Dao cannot be left even for a moment; what can be left is not the Dao.” He also said that the noble person does not go against humaneness even in the brief time it takes to eat a meal—so it is in haste, and so it is in hardship. When Yao transmitted the way of governing to Shun, he said, “Be refined and concentrated; be single-minded; truly hold fast to the way of central correctness.” This, too, is what is meant.

A person’s primordial spirit (yuanshen)—the innate numinous and luminous nature—originally delights in clarity and brightness, yet is often disturbed by thoughts; the moment a thought stirs, one departs from what is originally so.

The “Shen” spoken of here is the primordial spirit within the human body. It is the most numinous of all things, empty and still, yet harboring profound and far-reaching subtle principles. From the distant past it has neither increased nor diminished; originally it belongs neither to the clear nor to the turbid, and this is the marvel of the natural. The Perfected (Zhenren) Bai Ziqing said: “This spirit is not the spirit formed by the activity of thought and deliberation, but the primordial spirit that can stand alongside Yuanshi (the supreme origin revered in Daoism). When great, it embraces Heaven and Earth; when small, it is hidden within a single grain of rice. Luminous and utterly transparent, what need is there to pursue purity and stillness by deliberate effort? If one uses thought and deliberation to visualize this spirit, it is already no longer the primordial spirit.” If one is bent on the idea that “the spirit must be clear,” one is instead bound by the very thought of “clarity”; more stray thoughts arise in the mind, and one cannot find peace. The Daodejing (Classic of the Dao and De [Virtue/Power]) says: “The farther one pursues things outward, the less one actually knows.” This is precisely the principle.

The human mind originally delights in quietude, yet it is drawn along by desire; thoughts then grow agitated, and all manner of cunning and improper notions arise along with them.

The mind is Shen (spirit), and Shen is the mind. What is called “desire” refers to personal selfish thoughts; what is called “pulling” means drawing the mind away. A person’s original mind is inherently empty, luminous, and still, wondrous beyond words. It clings neither to movement nor to stillness, and it is neither deliberation nor speech. When no preconceived views are deliberately set up in the mind, every principle nonetheless appears with clarity—what “stillness,” then, is worth deliberately pursuing?

Bodhidharma, patriarch of the Chan school, said: “Think neither of good nor of evil; simply remain as things are in the present moment.” Confucius said: “Before joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have appeared, this is called zhong (the Mean); when they appear and all accord with due measure, this is called he (Harmony). The Mean is the root of all things under Heaven, and Harmony is the correct Dao (the Way) that prevails universally under Heaven.” The sages therefore transmitted the teaching of the mind from one to another. Able to settle the original mind in this way, they let the mind wholly accord with the principle of Heaven, free of entanglement and obstruction.

Even a person endowed with worthiness, clear insight, and wisdom, without a true teacher to impart the oral formula, has within no stable place on which to rely. Deliberately guard the mind, and it seems to be present; cease to guard it, and it seems to vanish. This is only a willful grasping of the original mind, guessing and measuring by one’s private ideas. If the Dao of the sages is taken to mean that the mind should simply delight in stillness, one is instead bound by that “stillness,” unaware that desires of every kind have long since drawn the original mind far away. How could this be what the sages called the “three returns that restore the spirit” (causing Shen to revert to its original authenticity), and thereby come once more to experience the life-engendering mind of Heaven and Earth? This calls for careful reflection.

So long as selfish desires are regularly dispelled, the mind grows still of itself; once the mind is lucid, Shen is naturally clear. Then the six desires do not arise, and the three poisons disperse—that is, restraining selfish desire and bringing conduct into accord with ritual propriety.

The “six desires” are the cravings produced by the six faculties of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind; the “three poisons” are greed, anger, and delusion. When the movements of the mind are naturally pure, the six desires do not arise and the three poisons disperse, and one can restrain oneself and return to ritual propriety.

The six desires are the cravings that arise from the six faculties of sense and thought: the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, the body, and the mind. The three poisons are greed, anger, and delusion. Within the human body there are also the Shen (spirits) of the Three Corpses, named Peng Ju, Peng Zhi, and Peng Qiao; the original text says that they belong to the three hun-souls. If a person gives rise to improper thoughts, these soul-spirits throw the mind and spirit into confusion, so that one clings to deviant desires, enters the path of ghosts, loses the root, and strays from true nature. What the Duren Jing (Scripture of Salvation) calls “the ghostly path readily turns to deviance” refers precisely to this condition.

If people of the world can understand that the human body is an illusory form temporarily assembled from the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and must in the end decay and perish, and if they further observe that all things possessing form follow the same principle, they will no longer prize external objects but will devote themselves to investigating their own mind. The mind is the fundamental treasure of the whole person. The mind is like the earth, and nature is like the sovereign; the sovereign dwells upon the ground of the mind, presiding over every affair of body and mind and constantly preserving a deep and tranquil authenticity. This numinous nature does not change with worldly affairs, and it can also cast off every desire for things. In this way the mind naturally grows still, Shen naturally becomes clear and bright, the six desires no longer arise, and the three poisons are eliminated. The Daode Jing (Classic of the Way and Its Virtue) says, “The sage is for the belly and not for the eye”; thus one abandons outward craving and keeps to the inner root. This is precisely the principle being spoken of.

The reason people cannot achieve this is that the mind has not yet become clear, desires have not yet been removed, and they themselves remain benighted.

Human beings live between heaven and earth; the lands and climates they inhabit differ, and the allotments of destiny they receive also vary. Human nature is not lacking in spiritual clarity; it is only that, because the Qi (vital energy) of the constitution one receives is turbid, nature is often as if veiled by dark clouds. Thus, when the eyes see, the ears hear, the nose smells, and the tongue tastes—when one meets external conditions and comes into contact with things—thoughts scatter along with the senses, yet one does not know how to draw them back. The primordial spirit (a person’s original Shen) grows dim and disordered, so one cannot recover original authenticity and falls of oneself into a dark and bewildered state. The root cause remains that the mind cannot be clarified and stilled, and desires cannot be eliminated.

To remove these desires, one must look inward and contemplate one’s own mind, seeing that the mind has no fixed and unchanging substance; look outward and contemplate one’s own body, seeing that the body likewise has no constant and unchanging substance; and look farther to external things, seeing that the myriad things are the same. After awakening to these three points, one beholds only a single expanse of empty clarity, while the inner luminosity remains awake and unobscured.

This section explains that if cultivators can directly realize the great Dao (the Way), they must cut off desirous thoughts, clarify the original source, and establish a resolve as firm and unmoving as a mountain. Even when they dwell amid green willows and red blossoms—surroundings that easily lead one to become absorbed in external things—they remain unaffected: looking inward at the mind, they let go even of thoughts; looking outward at the body, they let go even of the notion of the body; and looking farther at the myriad things, they let go even of the distinctions among those things.

When one realizes that mind, form, and things can all be forgotten, one feels that within oneself there is only a single expanse of emptiness: clear and luminous, vast and boundless. At this point, one no longer feels that heaven and earth lie outside oneself, nor that oneself and heaven and earth stand opposed to each other. Only when cultivation reaches this state can one experience the subtle wonder of “emptiness.” This is what is meant by “it cannot be depicted through form and image, nor can the myriad things be said to have boundaries.” The Daodejing says: “Look at it and you do not see it—this is called yi; listen to it and you do not hear it—this is called xi; touch it and you do not grasp it—this is called wei. These three cannot be inquired into to the very end.” The Gen hexagram of the Yijing (Book of Changes) also says: “Stopping at the back, one no longer feels one’s own body; walking into the courtyard, one nevertheless does not see other people.” Both speak of letting go of attachment to the body and to external things.

Contemplating emptiness by means of emptiness, in the end even “emptiness” itself cannot be grasped; from the void the myriad beings arise. Since what is to be let go of does not exist, attachment to “empty nonbeing” must also be let go of; the great Dao has no fixed form. When one does not cling even to “empty nonbeing,” one becomes clear and tranquil, constantly still, and Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) unite as one. If one no longer clings even to “stillness,” how could desirous thoughts arise? The myriad things transform, yet they have no fixed and unchanging form. When desirous thoughts do not arise, this is true clarity and stillness, and one accords with the true reality of the great Dao.

This passage continues from what comes before: once all three have been realized, the eyes see only “emptiness.” The author fears that people may therefore cling to a rigid, stagnant “emptiness,” still harboring in the mind a notion of “emptiness,” and so explains further that one must contemplate emptiness until even “emptiness” is no longer clung to, arriving at “emptiness in which there is nothing to be emptied.” The aim is to remain flexible and natural: when one’s nature is clear and free of desire, observe the subtle aspect of things; when desire is present, observe the boundaries that things display. The Daodejing says, “These two emerge from the same source yet differ in name; together they are called the mysterious.” This means that the two aspects arise from a single source and differ only in name; both may be called profound and mysterious.

When what is emptied is already gone, even “nothing” does not exist. The meaning is this: once one has returned to the Dao (the Way) and to emptiness, the mind is clear and open, vast without limit, and there is truly no form that can be taken as an object of contemplation. When even “nothing” is no longer clung to, the mind is lucid and constantly still. The meaning is that everything has been let go, and one’s own True Unity—the authentic state of oneness—naturally endures. Stillness itself does not become an attachment; how, then, could desire arise? The meaning is that human nature is not a dead, unmoving stillness. So long as one responds as events require and does not cling to outward forms, and in this way subdues one’s own mind, desire has nowhere from which to arise.

When desire does not arise, that is true clarity and stillness. The original text continues: if one diligently practices the way of talismans and fire-timing—a Daoist method of inner cultivation whose content includes talismanic arts, firing phases, and the like—one can bring Fanqi, the pure numinous Qi (vital energy) spoken of in cultivation, to a realm of spiritual subtlety, where it condenses into the Golden Embryo, a term in Neidan (internal alchemy) symbolizing the sacred embryo. Turbid Yin Qi disperses, the pure Yang of the true Dao coalesces into one, external dust and disturbance cannot adhere, and wisdom accordingly appears. Human nature is firm, upright, and pure, steadfast as a high mountain, truly clear and still and unshaken. Only when cultivation reaches this stage may one transcend the ordinary and enter sagehood, living as long as Heaven; this is no empty claim.

A person who is truly clear and still can still respond when facing things. Though responding to the myriad affairs, the inner mind remains unstained. From this, the true and constant nature comes into view. When not a single thought arises in the mind, one can constantly meet events and yet remain constantly clear and still. All entanglements cease at once, the realm of constant clarity and stillness is reached, and wisdom is thereby brought to completion.

This passage continues from what was said above: when desires no longer arise, that is true tranquility. Once this state is reached, one can respond naturally when facing things, and the true and constant nature then appears. What is called the perfection of sagely wisdom is simply the natural clarity and stillness of one’s original nature. When all manner of things come before one, one responds as each matter requires, like a pearl rolling in a tray—perfectly round, supple, and turning with ease. In this way the mind becomes open and unobstructed; responding to things without being stained by them, one can thereby reveal one’s original nature.

The Daodejing says: “The myriad things grow in profusion, each returning to its own root. Returning to the root is called stillness; returning to one’s original destiny is called constancy. To know the constant Dao (the Way) is called illumination; not to know the constant Dao and yet to act recklessly brings calamity.” The Diamond Sutra says: one should not give rise to the mind by clinging to visible forms, nor by clinging to sound, scent, taste, touch, or objects of thought; one should give rise to the mind where there is nothing to cling to. The Perfected Yin Xi (a figure in Daoist legend) says: when things come before me, I respond to them all according to feeling and principle, yet I do not let the mind be drawn along by them. Confucius says: “The gentleman rests content in the place he occupies and acts from there, and does not covet what lies outside his proper share.” Seen in this light, is this not constantly responding to things while constantly remaining still—that is, constant clarity and constant stillness?

By maintaining clarity and stillness in this way, one gradually enters the true Dao. To enter the Dao, a sincere heart must be the foundation.

What follows concerns guiding living beings toward the Dao: some people, though dull, can have wisdom opened in them; a turbid mind and nature can also become clear; and there are those who suddenly awaken all at once to their own original nature. The scripture therefore admonishes people to purify the mind and settle their nature, not to entangle themselves in contention with the welter of things, and to go on cultivating in just this way, removing the defiled habits acquired in the past, so that their De (Virtue/Power) is renewed day by day; then they will naturally and gradually enter the true Dao.

To enter the true Dao is called attaining the Dao. “I am the Primordial Beginning” (Yuanshi refers to Yuanshi Tianzun, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning). This sentence carries forward the words above, “gradually entering the true Dao,” and means that the practitioner has already grasped the principle of awakening to original nature. At the end the original text breaks off at “yu wei de shi” (“when one has not yet obtained a teacher”), and the meaning is not yet complete.

The preceding passage says that the practitioner gradually enters the true Dao (the Way); here this is explained further. Those who cultivate and study have already understood the principle of awakened nature, but have not yet received the secret essentials imparted orally by a master, so the teaching continues at this point. Only what is called “entering the true Dao” can be regarded as “attaining the Dao.” The true Dao is not cleverness and broad learning, nor extensive memorization and recitation, nor a doctrine expounded through eloquence. It is the wondrous principle of the “three truths and three completions” within one’s own person (that is, the principles of reality and completeness spoken of in inner cultivation). One must reverently take a true master, hear the master indicate a single phrase beside the ear, and at once settle the mind and comprehend it—only then has one entered the true Dao. Nourishing nature without losing its centered uprightness, and cultivating life while employing the tuoyue (originally a bellows, here a metaphor for regulating the breath and circulating Qi (vital energy)), without losing proper measure, nature and life naturally fuse, and the golden liquid (the substance formed by the transformation of Jing (essence) and Qi in the cultivation of Neidan (internal alchemy)) flows and infuses. This is therefore called attaining the Dao.

Although it is called attaining the Dao, in reality there is nothing to be attained; the original state of the Dao is empty and still.

When the preceding text says “it is named attaining the Dao,” the concern is that students may understand only the doctrine while clinging to the word “attain,” thinking that there is something to be gained and thereby turning against the Dao. It therefore continues: “Although it is named attaining the Dao, in reality nothing is attained.” This calls on students to investigate in earnest and truly awaken. The Dao, as such, has a vast appearance yet no fixed form, a great sound yet is hard to hear, and is square and vast yet without corners; in fact it cannot be designated by any name. If one willfully fixes visualization on any single place in the body, above or below or in the four directions, that is already not the Dao; yet neither can one leave one’s own person and seek it outwardly. The Dao cannot be pondered or discussed, nor is it merely movement or stillness. The myriad distinctions return to one whole, and the one whole in turn manifests as the myriad distinctions. All things and all affairs appear immediately before one’s eyes. At this point, if one can grasp the single crucial phrase, it is like passing through an iron wall and a silver mountain and arriving directly at the open road—only then has one attained the Dao.

What is called “attaining” is in fact nothing attained. Not deluded by external forms, one simply lets the numinous, luminous true nature within oneself maintain awakened awareness, ever prior to the myriad phenomena, clear and distinct. This alone is called truly attaining the Dao. As the elixir adepts say: within not-seeing, one personally sees, and within seeing there is again nothing seen; within not-hearing, one personally hears, and within hearing there is again nothing heard. Once this has been thoroughly penetrated, the work of cultivation, study, and investigation is complete—and what, then, remains that can be called “attaining”?

Only for the sake of teaching and transforming sentient beings is it called “attaining the Dao.” Those who can awaken to it may then transmit the sacred Dao; the sacred Dao runs through the myriad principles by means of the One.

“Hua” means to open and to guide; “sentient beings” here refers to people weighed down by all kinds of desires and attachments. This passage sums up what comes before: if a person maintains purity and stillness in this way, he can gradually enter the true Dao (the Way). The Most High Lord Lao uses it to show that the people of the world are many, that sages and ordinary persons are mingled together, and that a person’s root capacity is not easy to discern—yet among them there must also be those of profound insight. He therefore guides the multitude with gentle, roundabout analogies. Those whose insight is keen awaken as soon as they hear, and can at once free themselves from the bonds of external things and worldly notions, take the Dao as their root, and go on inquiring and cultivating with diligence. This is called teaching and transforming sentient beings, and it is also called attaining the Dao.

What is called “attaining the Dao” is in fact nothing that can be possessed. The word “attain” is used only to explain the matter to people, urging them to set their minds on the Dao and not forget it. The Daodejing, the Jing (scripture/classic) of the Dao and of De (Virtue/Power), says: “The good person is the teacher of the person who is not good; the person who is not good serves the good person as a mirror.” Everyone originally possesses a nature in communion with the Dao; only because they covet and cling to things are they called “sentient beings.” Those who truly awaken can all receive and practice the sacred Dao.

Take, for example, the Sixth Patriarch Lu Huineng, who was originally a Gelao of Guangdong (a name then used for a local ethnic group). Hearing someone recite the Diamond Sutra, when he came to the line “One should give rise to the mind while dwelling nowhere” (the mind does not cling to any place, yet can still give rise to mind), he was greatly awakened on the spot. Later he went to Fengmu Mountain to see the Fifth Patriarch. When the Fifth Patriarch asked why he had come, his reply poured forth like a spring, showing how strong his capacity for insight was. Fearing that others might plot against him, the Fifth Patriarch set him to pounding rice, and the assembly paid him no attention.

Later the Fifth Patriarch had everyone compose a gatha (a short verse expressing one’s understanding in cultivation). After Huineng had illuminated the mind and seen his nature, he wrote: “Bodhi is without a tree; the bright mirror is no stand either. Originally there is not a single thing; where, then, could dust alight?” The Fifth Patriarch secretly approved. That night he summoned him to the central hall, screened the two of them with a monastic robe, and expounded the Diamond Sutra. When the explanation reached “One should give rise to the mind while dwelling nowhere,” the Fifth Patriarch confirmed him, transmitted the mind-dharma together with the robe and bowl, and saw him across the river. Huineng later became a patriarch of his generation. This shows that one cannot judge a person by outward appearance alone, but should look to his aspiration and the nature of his mind.

So too with Ma Danyang’s conversion of Butcher Ren. Butcher Ren was at first a fierce and wicked man; once he awakened, he became a good person. Seen in this light, those who are truly able to awaken can indeed also receive and practice the sacred Dao.

The Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) says:

The title “Most High” (Taishang) here is an honorific used by cultivators of the True when they transmit the classics. From this point on, the text opens another level and speaks of De (Virtue/Power). The Daodejing, the classic of the Dao (the Way) and of De, says that one who accords with De corresponds with De, while one who loses De corresponds with the loss of De; thus arises the difference between the superior person and the inferior person. Those who study should carefully discern the meaning in this.

The superior person does not contend; the inferior person is fond of contending. The views of the two differ from each other.

The superior person is one who possesses the great De of the sage; the inferior person is a worthy who remains attached. The sage’s heart is wholly at one with the principle of Heaven and, without distinguishing the worthy from the foolish, can embrace them all. Such persons draw in their sharp edge and blend into the ordinary world, dwelling among the multitude; they humbly take the lower place, blunt their keenness and conceal their point, and do not display their corners. Toward the good they respond with goodness; toward those who are not good they likewise respond with goodness. They lead by their own example and practice the teaching without words, handling affairs in accord with what is naturally so; in dealing with others they neither argue nor strive to prevail. Such a person is called a superior person.

If a worthy is attached, he will hold that others’ learning is in every case inferior to his own, affirming himself and displaying himself at every turn, boasting of himself and priding himself on his merits. When the worthies and sages of antiquity are mentioned, he weighs who excels and who falls short; when people of the present are mentioned, he judges who is right and who is wrong. Even toward sages who have become immortals or buddhas, he still rejects teachings that pursue emptiness and extinction, and argues without end. Such a person is called an inferior person.

Yin Xi said, “The sage is like a dragon; the worthy is like a jiao-dragon. A dragon can transform into a jiao-dragon, but a jiao-dragon in the end cannot transform into a dragon.” This is the principle meant here.

The person of superior De possesses De, yet does not regard himself as possessing De; the person of inferior De is attached to De. One who is attached to De cannot be called truly in accord with the Dao and with De. De that is humble and gentle can preserve one’s person; attachment to De cannot avoid a measure of bias and narrowness.

Higher De (Virtue/Power) accords with the Dao (the Way) of Wuwei (non-action); lower De is a mode of cultivation that consists in taking action. “To cling” means to be attached and rigid, without flexibility. De carries the sense of obtaining; it also refers to the character cultivated in the heart, and to the principles fused with one’s innate nature that serve to understand things and bring affairs to completion.

What is said here is that people of higher De never show off their virtue. They conceal themselves and leave no trace, remain plain and do not display their edge, and devote themselves to nurturing Qi (vital energy), so that body and mind grow soft and yielding, like an infant. People of lower De readily cling to particular matters, contend over worldly right and wrong, gain and loss, and publicize their own virtue. Blinded by cleverness and talent, they distinguish self from other, noble from base, and high from low; clinging in this way to distinctions, they find it hard to understand true Dao and De.

The Daodejing (Classic of the Way and Virtue) says: “Higher De does not claim De as its own, and so it truly has De; lower De does not let go of its grasping at De, and therefore does not count as truly having De.” Higher De follows what is natural and does not deliberately seek anything; lower De takes action, yet with a definite aim. The “Three Treasures” of which the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) speaks are three virtues one ought to hold fast: compassion, frugality, and not daring to place oneself ahead of the people of the world.

Confucius said: “I cannot attain to being a sage; I only transmit the old teachings and do not compose new ones. I trust and love the learning of antiquity, and privately compare myself to Lao Peng. I silently keep what I have learned, study without growing weary, and teach others without tiring—in these respects, what do I have?” Confucius never claimed to possess De. Seen in this light, is this not precisely “higher De does not claim De as its own”?

Those who cling to De often value only outward display. Whether in government, prose, poetry, or technical arts, as soon as they have some ability in one respect, they think themselves a cut above others, boast of their skill, and cling to one-sided views. How, then, can they understand the way of Dao and De? Yao and Shun, though sages, still delighted in sharing good deeds with others; Yu the Great was discerning, and on hearing a single beneficial word would bow to the speaker. When did they ever cling to self-praise? Those who learn should ponder this carefully.

Why is it that living beings cannot attain the true Great Dao (the Way)? Because their minds harbor delusive thoughts, and they single-mindedly crave enjoyment and chase after desire.

This passage again opens in the name of the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun), so as to awaken the world through the words of a perfected one (zhenren) and to remind people to observe carefully what living beings do. The “living beings” spoken of here are the foolish who cling greedily to their attachments: outwardly they are human, yet inwardly they are like beasts; their minds and natures are benighted, they drift with the current, intent only on clinging to life and pursuing profit, and they lack De (Virtue/Power). Above, they do not fear the laws of the state; below, they show no regard for their parents. Theft, fraud, and the like—there is nothing they will not do.

They cannot attain the Dao because their minds are filled with delusive thoughts and selfish desire obscures the original mind, so that they grow ever farther from the Dao. The Daodejing (Classic of the Way and Its Virtue) says: “The Great Dao is level and broad, yet people prefer to walk the narrow side paths. The court is splendidly adorned, while the fields lie waste and the granaries stand empty. They wear gorgeous clothes, carry sharp swords, eat and drink their fill, and have wealth to spare. This is called being a chief of robbers, and it does not accord with the Dao.” The Daodejing also says: “When the people no longer fear awesome authority, a still greater authority will descend.” And again: “Do not make your dwelling overly cramped, and do not disdain your own life. Only if you do not disdain life will life not disdain you.” People of this kind do not know repentance even unto death, and in their hearts they always feel that it is still not enough. They contrive and fabricate again and again, and this becomes the cause of their continued sinking in the cycle of rebirth. The root lies in a single delusive thought that causes them to lose the Great Dao.

Once a delusive mind arises, it startles and disturbs the primordial spirit (yuanshen), so that the primordial spirit is clouded by it and constrained by it. This takes up what precedes: when the eyes see the forms and colors of external things, the spirit draws them into the mind; once the mind receives them, delusive thoughts arise at once, and thus the innate primordial spirit departs from the Great Dao.

This passage continues what precedes it. When the eyes see external things, Shen (spirit) receives what is seen into the heart-mind. Once the heart-mind takes it in, delusive thoughts arise, and the originally lucid yuanshen (original spirit—a person’s authentic spirit) turns into the shishen (discriminating spirit—the mind-spirit drawn by external conditions and occupied with distinction and calculation). The mind-spirit is disturbed as it follows outer circumstances, and intention is beguiled by emotion and desire. The Daodejing says: “Giving oneself over to racing horses and hunting drives the mind-spirit into frenzy; rare and precious goods obstruct a person’s conduct.” Such things startle and agitate the mind-spirit. The root is that the heart, which ought to be master, cannot exercise mastery. Deluded by external forms and appearances, it dissipates the authentic nature of the Dao (the Way), and finds no peace even in sleep and dreams.

Once the mind-spirit is startled and disturbed, it becomes attached to the myriad things, and desires of every kind assail the heart one after another.

This means that when the mind-spirit dwells on external things, the inner heart cannot be at rest. One sees an object, the mind-spirit is startled, and one grows fond of it. Letting external things draw one into indulgence, one gradually no longer knows where to return, clings to the myriad things, and never knows satiety. Even if one thereby risks one’s body and courts danger, one does not perceive the peril.

After attachment to the myriad things, craving arises. This is like taking a thief for one’s own child: treating as intimate what will in fact do one harm.

This means that when the mind-spirit clings to external things, it veils original nature and causes a person to turn with the yin po (yin soul—spiritual activity opposite the lucid original spirit and easily stirred by desire). Once the mind-spirit is drawn along, emotion and desire circulate without cease. A person falls into a life of drunken stupor and dreaming, sinks into the abyss of love and desire, craves without end, and thoughts tangle in endless profusion, until a whole lifetime can hardly be recovered.

When craving arises, vexation comes with it, which is to fasten shackles upon oneself.

This means that craving is the beginning of entering a deviant path. One craves today and craves again tomorrow; seeing something, one wants to possess it, and hearing of something, one wants to obtain it. Day after day one acquires all manner of things, yet the heart never knows contentment. Without realizing it, a person has already planted the root of vexation: even a prosperous household draws thieves; to satisfy desire one schemes in every way, and the mind can never let go. The ancients said that too much wealth becomes, on the contrary, a burden to oneself. Bound by possessions, one adds vexation without cause and may even invite calamity and endanger one’s life—all of it brought upon oneself.

Giving rise to deluded afflictions and letting the mind wander in wild, disordered thoughts causes body and mind to grieve and suffer. A person thereby sinks into impurity and humiliation and revolves through the cycle of birth and death. The ancients said that too much wealth, on the contrary, becomes a burden: it entangles a person, multiplies afflictions, and may even invite disaster and cost one’s life. All such calamities are brought upon oneself.

Giving rise to deluded afflictions and wild, disordered thoughts makes body and mind sorrowful and pained. A person then falls into impurity and humiliation, revolves through the cycle of birth and death, often sinks into the sea of suffering, and in the end forever loses the true Dao (the Way). Attachment to the physical form and to external things brings harm.

This passage sums up what comes before. Sentient beings fail to attain the Dao because of a deluded mind. Clinging to life and fearing death, they instead plant the root of affliction. They seek only profit and wish only for a life of abundance, indulging in the sensory pleasures of form, sound, fragrance, and taste, and further confused by sensual desire and by attachment to being and non-being. Thus they bring affliction upon themselves and cause body and mind to suffer. If in ordinary life one acts without loyalty or filial piety, deceiving Heaven and concealing the truth from others, ghosts and spirits secretly record those faults. When one then meets with natural disaster, or suffers calamity and punishment because of wrongdoing, that is the retribution invited by evil deeds: some of it appears openly in the world, and some is punishment meted out in secret. A person therefore falls into humiliation and revolves through birth and death. Reborn as another kind of being, one may pass through a hundred thousand myriads of kalpas and still find it hard to regain a human body, remaining sunk in the sea of suffering and forever losing the true Dao. If people of the world can turn back and examine themselves, take this as a warning, and seek the supreme Dao—the highest Way—without delay, they can avoid falling into the suffering of cyclic rebirth. Would the teachings of the sages deceive anyone?

The Dao of true constancy—the eternal, unchanging Way—must be realized by oneself and personally verified. One who has realized the Dao can keep the inner mind constantly pure and still, becoming one with the Great Void, the vast and boundless emptiness.

What is called “true constancy” is neither arising nor ceasing. From beginningless time, the Dao has always been thus. To realize the root of the Dao is to be spared the suffering of falling into cyclic rebirth. Would the teachings of the sages deceive anyone?

“True Constancy” (zhenchang) refers to the inherent nature that never arises and never perishes. From beginningless time, it has always been so. “Awakening” (wu) means to perceive and comprehend this principle; “self-attainment” (zide) means to experience it oneself and verify it in person; “clarity and stillness” (qingjing) means luminous calm, free of defilement.

The passage says that if a person can awaken to their own nature, they will understand that it is originally complete and need not be pieced together from outside. In the beginning, Qi (vital energy) transforms and forms the body; the true spirit enters the body and is veiled by physical form; spiritual nature likewise manifests according to each person’s temperament and endowment. Sages and worthies therefore differ from the foolish. Even a person of great wisdom may have a foolish side in the mind; even a dull person possesses the nature of the highest wisdom. This is why both awakening and cultivation are required.

Awakening corresponds to nature (xing), and cultivation corresponds to life (ming). Only the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu) is the personal verification of the Dao (the Way) of True Constancy. When nature and life merge into one, the Dao becomes vast, empty, and still; the mind is naturally clear and tranquil, knowing all of past and future, and able to respond fittingly to whatever comes from outside. Turned inward, one can understand and realize birth and death; turned outward, one can fully fulfill one’s responsibilities in the human world.

This passage sums up the subtle meaning of the entire scripture (Jing) from beginning to end: the earlier part speaks of the Dao, and the later part speaks of De (Virtue/Power). In substance it reveals the essential purport of the five thousand characters of the Daodejing, so that people of the world may understand the principle of the Dao and De. Those who understand the principle yet do not carry it out in virtuous conduct are called “superior scholars” (shangshi); those who hold to the principle and do not lose virtuous conduct are called “inferior scholars” (xiashi); those whose minds harbor deluded thoughts and whose craving never ceases are called “sentient beings” (zhongsheng).

Thus the end of the scripture speaks of the Dao of True Constancy and says that those who awaken can verify it for themselves. It is because the Most High Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun), cherishing life and pitying the sufferings of sentient beings, uses many gentle and indirect analogies to urge people to turn back early and realize this Dao. If someone suddenly breaks through and gains insight, they can reach the state of constant clarity and stillness. Is this principle not profound and wondrous?

The immortal Ge Xuan said: The reason I obtained this Dao (the Way) is that I once recited this Jing (scripture) ten thousand times. This scripture is a classic cultivated by the beings of the celestial realm, and it is not transmitted to those whose attainment is shallow. In former times I transmitted it to the Sovereign Lord of Eastern Florescence (Donghua Dijun); the Sovereign Lord of Eastern Florescence in turn transmitted it to the Sovereign Lord of the Golden Portal (Jinque Dijun); and the Sovereign Lord of the Golden Portal then transmitted it to the Queen Mother of the West (Xiwangmu). The Queen Mother of the West continued to pass it on orally from generation to generation, never setting it down in writing. Now I have written it out, so that it may be handed down in the world.

Those of superior spiritual capacity who comprehend this scripture may rise to serve as celestial officials; those of middling capacity who comprehend it may become immortals among the ranks of the Southern Palace; those of lesser capacity who comprehend it may still enjoy long life in the human world, come and go among the Three Realms (the celestial realm, the human world, the underworld, and other levels of existence), and ascend through the Golden Gate to have audience with the exalted deities of heaven.

This chapter has the Immortal Elder Ge Xuan (a Daoist immortal of the late Eastern Han, traditionally regarded as the transmitter of the Classic of Purity and Tranquility) praising the profundity of the scripture spoken by Taishang Laojun. He points out that this Jing (scripture) is not merely a classic written on paper. It has existed since an immeasurably distant past, neither born nor perishing, neither increasing nor decreasing, and it is the path that leads to the great Dao (the Way).

What is called the "scripture" refers to the mysterious pass within the human body (the key aperture in cultivation practice), and what is called "recitation" refers to the process of practice and effort. Reciting the scripture is not done with the mouth. It means working the mechanism of the opening and closing of Qian and Kun (using the opening and closing of heaven and earth, Yin-Yang, as a metaphor for the movement of breath and the circulation of Qi, the vital energy), and bringing into play the wondrous function of the inversion of Kan and Li (Kan is water and Li is fire, referring to the mutual completion of water and fire, in which the heart-fire descends and the kidney-water rises). When Ge Xuan received the transmission, he recited the scripture ten thousand times, and in fact he was practicing in just this way. "Ten thousand times" speaks of the work itself, which must keep turning without interruption, continuous and subtle as if barely there, that is, sustained and unbroken.

Practicing with such effort, one can obtain a precious pearl the size of a grain of millet (a metaphor for the first formation of the Neidan, internal alchemy), which drops into the Yellow Court (Huangting, the central palace of the body, the region of the Dantian, energy center) and condenses into a golden embryo (the embryonic body of the inner elixir) transformed from empty, luminous Qi. Just as a mother nurtures an infant, one waters and nourishes it with the original Shen (spirit). After ten months, when the embryonic Qi is complete, it bursts out through the Heavenly Gate (the crown of the head), and the Yang spirit (the body of consciousness brought to completion through cultivation) appears, transforming in a thousand ways and ten thousand ways. This is called a True Person. The merit and virtue of this Jing are so great as to be beyond conception. It is the text practiced by heavenly beings, and it must not be carelessly passed on to people of low capacity. In transmitting the Dao and the scripture, one should transmit it to those who are virtuous, loyal, and filial. Whoever transmits it rashly will surely suffer heavenly punishment. Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan, a Daoist of the Northern Song and founding patriarch of the Southern Lineage of Neidan) transmitted the Dao to unsuitable persons three times, and three times he suffered heavenly punishment.

The immortals and sages often concealed this scripture, passing it on only by mouth and leaving no written text, out of fear that heavenly demons might leak it or treat it with disrespect. But people of later ages are mostly less simple and sincere than those of antiquity, and if they were not guided and transformed through written words, by what means would living beings awaken? So, with no other recourse, the text of the scripture was recorded and handed down in the world. Those of superior capacity who grasp it and practice and verify it diligently may ascend as immortals of the Golden Gate Tower (a high heavenly station). Those of middling capacity who grasp it and practice and verify it over a long time may be enrolled in the ranks of immortals of the Southern Palace. Those of lesser capacity who grasp it can still become earthly immortals, enjoying long life in the world, their traces appearing and vanishing beyond prediction, able to roam the Three Realms and attend court at the Heavenly Gate.

The Perfected Zuoxuan (Zuoxuan Zhenren) said: “Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way), if they uphold and recite this scripture, will receive the protection of the benevolent spirits of the Ten Heavens (good spirits who guard and support cultivators). Thereafter the jade talisman preserves the Shen (spirit) and the golden liquid refines the form, so that both form and spirit reach a wondrous state and, in the end, unite with the Dao in truth.” This passage is then repeated once more.

The Immortal Elder praises the passage again out of an earnest, painstaking wish to instruct later students, and also to disclose the hidden meaning of the scripture. It is truly the foundation of the great way of the Golden Elixir (Jindan). The “persons who study the Dao” spoken of here are those who afterward learn the way of becoming immortal. “Uphold and recite” means not only reading the text aloud, but also believing it and cultivating in accordance with the scripture.

“Ten Heavens” is a technical term of practice: the two Earths, wu and ji, are each divided into five, together making the number ten. “Jade talisman” refers to talismanic fire, and “golden liquid” refers to spirit-water. According to the method of Neidan (internal alchemy), when the first stirring of Yang occurs within the body, one uses Shen to guide Qi (vital energy), so that the Qi returns into the aperture and then sinks into the lower Dantian (energy center)—called the “sea floor”—to be gently nurtured, and in this way the Yang Qi is received. This is what is meant here by “upholding and reciting this scripture.”

One then employs the power of wu-Earth to drive the golden Jing (essence) upward to the Southern Palace; afterward one uses ji-Earth to gather the Yang Qi and withdraw the Yin Qi (Yin-Yang), returning them to the position of Kun. This is called “receiving the support of the benevolent spirits of the Ten Heavens.” When Shen settles, the movement of Qi becomes steady, and the inner fire is set in motion, the jade nectar and golden liquid within the body begin to flow. This is “the jade talisman preserves the spirit, and the golden liquid refines the form.”

Form refers to life, and Shen refers to inner nature. When nature and life are joined as one, this is called the Dao. Hence it is said, “form and spirit are both wondrous, and one unites with the Dao in truth.”

If the matter is viewed in the ordinary way of the world, a person who possesses the Dao naturally receives the lasting protection of the benevolent spirits of the Ten Heavens; this is no empty claim. The Daodejing (Classic of the Dao and Its De [Virtue/Power]) says: “Entering the ranks of an army, one is not harmed by blades; meeting tigers or the si (fierce beasts of ancient legend), one is not harmed by claws or fangs.” What is described is precisely this kind of protection.

The Perfected One of Zhengyi (Orthodox Unity), a perfected being revered in Daoism, says: If a person can receive and keep this Jing (scripture/classic) and comprehend the principles within it, calamities and obstructions will not beset him, and the host of sages will guard his gate; his conscious spirit, Shen (spirit), will ascend to the upper realm and pay homage to the exalted deities of high rank. When his merit is fulfilled, he will be able to enter into communion with the Imperial Lord. If one recites and upholds this Jing without turning back, one will be able to ascend in person, riding upon purple clouds.

This passage is a verse of praise by the Ancestral Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang Daoling. The “household” spoken of here does not mean the house of an ordinary family, but the heart at the center of the human body; the “Jing” refers to the precious pearl, and the precious pearl is none other than the Dao (the Way). What is called “comprehension” is to grasp its mysteries in one’s own person. According to this commentary, at the moment when “lead appears and gui is born,” one should suspend the precious pearl in the void, five zhang above the ground, and set it turning like a flying wheel, so that the stars and constellations of heaven all enter the pearl and are then refined and transformed into the elixir. Only this counts as true comprehension. Once the elixir has congealed into a solid form, the flood-like Qi (vital energy) is pure and fully abundant; calamity naturally cannot intrude, and the sacred hosts of the various heavens will secretly protect the practitioner.

Thus the practitioner’s whole person may be said to gather the myriad Shen, and a single Qi may be said to reach through and connect with the myriad Qi. When the elixir is fully refined, there comes “shedding the embryo and exchanging the cauldron,” that is, casting off the former bodily form and transforming the mode of life. Spirit-consciousness then takes up residence in the Upper Capital of Jade Mountain within the Niwan, the palace of Neidan (internal alchemy) in the head. That is the dwelling of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the revered deities of Daoism, and there the practitioner can pay homage to the deities of high rank. When merit and cultivation are both complete, one can commune with the Imperial Lord and be entered in the register of the immortals.

If one can constantly preserve clarity and stillness, strictly observe the precepts of purity, and persist in cultivation and recitation without ever turning back, an edict will of itself be issued from the celestial realm, summoning one to rise in flight upon purple clouds and enter the celestial palace. The Celestial Master of the Han, who destroyed demons and evil spirits, Immortal Elder Ge, who ritually refined ghosts and souls, and Xu Jingyang, who slew flood dragons and pythons, all established great merit in the world and in the end ascended together with their entire families. On the path of learning immortality, such things do indeed occur.