《内丹秘诀》

The sea of clouds is vast and boundless, the path leading to the Guanghan Palace winding and profound. Heaven and Earth nurture precious treasures, causing the radiance of the numinous crow to condense into elixir. Gold can be refined from lead, mercury from sand; provided one understands the origins of the medicines and the methods of their combination, the refining process is not difficult. The elixir can enable one to leave the mundane, lighten the body and ascend, and can also rescue a weakened and damaged life.

The medicines for elixir refining must be sought from within oneself, and the elixir furnace must be personally refined as well. One causes the Shen water to soar and condense into droplets, then infuses them into the Huachi (Flower Pond, an alchemical term referring to a key site in the body or the furnace), stirring them into motion. By increasing and decreasing Water and Fire and mobilizing Yin-Yang, over the three hundred and sixty days of the yearly cycle one passes through Kan and Li (Water and Fire among the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), commonly used to symbolize the Yin-Yang transformations of elixir refining); and one operates according to the seventy-two hou (ancient units dividing the seasons), as if driving thunder and commanding lightning.

In the deeply secluded Nine Palaces (in Neidan (internal alchemy), symbolizing the palatial locations throughout the body), one places the dragon and tiger, opens the passes of the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Human, constituting the gates of Bagua operation. In refining the elixir one advances according to the fire phases, at first as if turning from winter to summer; following the creative transformations of heavenly timing, one then proceeds from summer onward to winter. The cultivator silently applies the essential mechanisms, secretly according with the laws of the ancient sages, allowing the Qi (vital energy) mechanism to circulate and turn, operating according to the twelve double-hours, and regulating by the numbers of three and five, mastering Yin-Yang and subduing the dragon and tiger (an alchemical term often referring to the interacting Yin-Yang Qi).

One explores the profundity of the “Seven Returns and Nine Recirculations” (a term in Neidan describing the repeated transformations and completion of the medicines), condensing them below into refined gold; gathering the essences of one Water and two Fires, then returning them upward to True Earth. Circulating thus back and forth, being and non-being generate each other, hardness and softness are harmonized into medicines, filling the tripod and furnace with the Qi of Heaven and Earth. Then, taking golden blossoms and jade fragments as nourishment, cultivating with Yang Qi and the Yin Talisman (methods of cultivation coordinating Yin-Yang changes), one causes the meritorious work of creation to be enacted in the body, presenting a sagely and wondrous image; light coalesces in the cavern mansion (the inner elixir palaces within the cultivator’s body), finally forming a numinous pearl.

This wondrous function operates in the unseen, coinciding with the true original source. It gradually nourishes the branches and leaves while irrigating the roots and base; a dog taking the Longli medicine, a person consuming the cicada-shedding elixir, can thereby transform the mundane and tend toward the sagely realm. This is not ordinary cultivation of withdrawing from the world, but can also halt aging and preserve appearance, unconstrained by the limits of postnatal years. Thus the marrow condenses solid as frost, the bones become firm as gold.

These hidden principles indicate the return path to the distant heavenly realm; one need not be bound by the “hundred-six” kalpa periods (a term in ancient numerology indicating disaster cycles), nor lament the shortness of time. The cultivator can thereby go beyond the constraints of Yin-Yang transformations, letting the years pass as they will. Exert yourself in cultivation! Those who possess the Dao (the Way) should draw near this path and preserve the true Jing (essence). Considering that human life easily comes to an end, how can one not promptly grasp the key points within? Look at the rises and falls of glory and disgrace: in the end they all return to the hills and graves along the Chang’an road.

The mundane world calls it “the arts of the bedchamber,” while the immortals call it a hidden scripture. The Three Peaks (sanfeng, symbolic locations in Neidan cultivation) handed down the secret formula, and five characters reveal the crucial point. In practice one must carefully distinguish host and guest, preventing either side from acting first; when Yin and Yang unite, what matters most is their harmonious matching. With every regulation of the breath, the mechanism of Qi (vital energy) must be made to flow smoothly; desire must not be indulged. Understand that greedy pursuit only invites disaster; from beginning to end one should remain as cautious as at the very start. When the upper, middle, and lower three Dantian (energy centers) are filled with golden fluid, the ordinary body can be transformed, the skin becoming as lustrous and pure as ice and snow.

Haichanzi, “Rhapsody on the Returned Elixir”

The Returned Elixir is of the highest honor; its origin lies between Heaven and Earth. It causes the One Qi to generate the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity), assigns each of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) its proper place, and thereby distributes the Nine Luminaries (jiuyao, the nine classes of stars and planets in Daoism). Black and white interfuse, Yin and Yang meeting like rain and dew; azure and yellow coordinate with each other, sun and moon seeming to gestate within chaos.

In cultivation one must construct the red furnace and set in place the true tripod. Lead relies on water to form the embryo; mercury attaches itself within and transmutes away the dross. Seek it neither in the mountains nor from the dusty world. At the Three Peaks, Mao and You (symbolic hours or directions of Yin-Yang union) converge, causing Kan and Li (the trigrams of Water and Fire) to join in two places. Grasp the principle of “wondrous being,” and the tortoise and snake (images of water-fire and Yin-Yang) will rely upon each other; penetrate the realm of emptiness, and the crow and rabbit (symbols of sun and moon) will naturally keep company.

Moreover, this is an elixir method that restores youth and extends years; it must not be missed. The elixir Qi flows unceasingly, transmuting a body of gold, then layer upon layer transforming it into a substance like fine jade. As it circulates and generates, in an instant it becomes Geng-Xin (symbols of Metal Qi); whether in motion or stillness, it suddenly manifests Jia-Yi (symbols of Wood Qi).

The Yellow Sprout (huangya, a Neidan term for the refined essence) grows within the River Chariot (heche, a cultivation image of circulating Jing and Qi). The River Chariot is formed by relying on the Yellow Sprout and is in turn used to nourish it; the root of the Yellow Sprout is joined to the River Chariot. If this relationship cannot be grasped, a person’s lifespan will gradually be consumed, and the three hun and seven po (the souls of the human body in Daoism) will scatter, not knowing where to return.

Cultivation repeatedly passes through favorable and adverse conditions. Within the Three-One (sanyi, a cultivation image of the unity of body, Shen, and Qi), mother and child remain linked and hard to separate; when cold and heat alternate, within the Two-Eight (erba, a cultivation image of Yin-Yang pairing), husband and wife will not part. What is marvelous is that the deep and secluded path can reach the origin, revealing the subtle key and causing the myriad tributaries to return to the source.

The glory and wealth of the world, for all their bustle, will in the end turn to ashes; even if the universe is lonely and cold, the one who has completed the work stands uniquely, not returning to dust. Those of resolve are urged to awaken to the Great Dao: the Way of Heaven has never failed anyone. When you see the image of male and female uniting, secretly guard and conceal it; when you hear of the mutual refining of water and fire, remember it firmly and protect it. Do not delay, or once you have fallen into the grave, where will you again encounter the Great Dao?

The Green Dragon descends and coils about the White Tiger; the Vermilion Bird soars and enters the Dark Warrior (all of them divine beasts symbolizing Yin-Yang and the Five Phases). After a thousand days, mastering the fire timing, one can then communicate with wondrous efficacy, ascend in broad daylight, and return to the Purple Palace (zifu, the immortal realm spoken of by the immortals).

I will tell you the essential points: The root of life lies in “true breath” (the inner and natural respiration). It illuminates body and mind, enabling a person to maintain lasting clarity. This empty and numinous realm appears void, yet it is by no means nothingness; like heaven and earth, it can contain the myriad things.

“Taiyi” (the original source of the Dao) disseminates the marvelous principles, and thus people attain the Dao (the Way). After attaining the Dao, one must skillfully hold and preserve it and never lose it. When the mind-spirit is peaceful and still, Shen (spirit) naturally dwells therein; if the mind-spirit is internally tormented and restless, Jing (essence) and blood will be depleted.

Sorrow, joy, and anxious thinking, as well as giving free rein to desires and overworking the body, all gradually damage body and mind. Harmed from morning to evening, people nevertheless remain deluded and unaware; when the breath becomes disordered, the spirit loses its support. Worn away bit by bit in this manner, the body gradually weakens; when the original harmonious Qi (vital energy)—the originally peaceful and abundant original Qi of the human body—is exhausted, the spirit also departs.

One may cultivate meditation while walking and also while sitting in stillness; sages are able to do so, but ordinary people may not necessarily succeed. If one wastes time without knowing how to clear the obstacles of body and mind, it is like a barren field that yields no good harvest. After nine years of warm nourishing, when the fire timing is mature, mysterious responses will naturally appear, and the mind-spirit will quickly settle.

No-mind does not mean thinking of nothing at all, but rather being free from the pull of delusive thoughts—this is the true mind. Forgetting the distinction between movement and stillness is to keep far from desires. Shen is a person’s nature, Qi is a person’s life; when the mind-spirit does not scatter outward, the breath will gradually become settled.

Originally, of Shen and Qi these two, what could be more intimate than they? If one loses them, with what then does one take as the foundation of life? With what does one establish the root at the beginning? Practice Wuwei (non-action) precisely in the place of Wuwei. The images arising in thoughts must be removed and brushed aside one after another; the spiritual activities in dreams must be firmly grasped.

Neither allowing the mind-spirit to float and wander nor deliberately stagnating it is the essential of cultivation; neither clinging to the square nor clinging to the round is the most subtle point therein. When the numinous original source circulates within, cultivation can tend toward the genuine; if breath and mind-spirit always race outward, cultivation will be difficult to accomplish.

To pierce gold and penetrate stone is not difficult; what is difficult is to forget attachments while sitting at ease, even remaining composed in a fleeting moment. This principle is easy to understand but not easy to practice; only when one does not cling to the very thing one is doing is the Dao considered complete.

If one takes holding the breath as the correct path of cultivation, then counting the breaths or practicing according to diagrams and methods are not the proper way. Recently some have spoken of letting go of everything as escaping worldly toil, yet their minds remain constantly attached—what difference is there between the two? Just look at the infant in the mother’s womb: how could it consciously calculate its breathing?

Simply brew it slowly, like cultivating sweet dew; hunger and thirst will gradually fade, and the true and simple original nature will appear. In the future, when merit and practice are complete, one can roam freely and at ease; but in the initial refining and nourishing, one must still be diligent and arduous.

Cultivation often means seeking stillness amid busyness, yet one need not deliberately pursue leisure. The key is to nourish and settle the Yuanshen (primordial spirit, the original source of a person's spirit). Thoughts in the mind, however, are always hard to quiet; achieving effortless gathering and releasing of them ultimately depends on one's personal cultivation.

I now practice diligently amid hardship, wearing coarse cloth and eating simple fare, dwelling alone in quietude. But if one applies effort only in times of leisure, how can that compare with an expansive state of mind and single-minded cultivation of Dadìng (the deep, settled state of practice)?

Even if one wishes to attend to both physical form and spirit, it may not be possible to accomplish both at once. Before cultivating Ming (life, the nurturing of body and vitality), if one has not first cultivated Xing (nature, the nurturing of mind and character), it is difficult truly to complete the work of cultivation. By concentrating Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) into one, making body and mind pliant, the Yuanshen can dwell in peace for a long time; the coming and going of breath within the body gradually becomes even, and it settles of itself.

The breath grows long, fine, and subtle, gradually returning to the original source of life. There is no need to draw deliberately upon the so-called spiritual spring; it will circulate of its own accord. Through prolonged cultivation the rhythms of Yin-Yang are harmonized within this process; the Qi mechanism warms and nourishes the meridians, transforms sinews and bones, and makes every part of the body bright and unobstructed.

The Three Pengs (the three corpse-spirits of Daoist tradition, symbolizing desires and deviant Qi within the body that hinder cultivation) leave their dark corpse-dwelling, as if the myriad kingdoms were coming to pay homage to the Red Emperor (a Daoist deity). If one asks from where the Zhenren (the realized person who has succeeded in cultivation) comes, he originally dwells in the Dantai (elixir terrace, symbolizing the site of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice). Formerly veiled by clouds and mist, now that we meet, the vision of one who cultivates the Dao opens suddenly and clearly.

This cannot be achieved in a single morning or evening. What appears is one's own innate true nature, not something from outside. A person who remains as steadfast as metal and stone even in hardship, relying on the power of wisdom to overcome the Yin demons (deviant thoughts and temptations that hinder cultivation), does so entirely through tranquility, fewness of desires, and concentrated adherence; this is the pure and quiet land of Huaxu (a realm in Daoist scriptures symbolizing peace and freedom from worry).

Cultivation should not chase fame and profit, and one must also set aside worldly entanglements. Even if one's reputation is startlingly great, of what use is it? Talent in horsemanship and literary composition is not to be prized. Proficiency in the qin, poetry, and rhapsodies, and being versatile in many arts, may instead lead one away from the path of cultivation.

These abilities are like thin mist and light smoke, drifting leisurely with falling blossoms and willow catkins; though they appear ethereal and elegant, they ultimately cannot turn into the rain and dew that nourish all things.

If the Yuanqi (primordial Qi) cannot settle, the Yuanshen cannot find peace; if a tree has no root, its branches and leaves wither. As for nasal mucus, saliva, jing fluid, and blood, there is no need to cling to them as separate things; traced to the root, they are all transformations of the same source of life.

This substance has never had a fixed form; it changes according to circumstances and the mind's intent: when heat is felt in the body it becomes sweat; when it meets wind-cold in the nose it becomes nasal mucus.

When they resonate and unite in the kidneys, they become Jing (essence); when they are stirred in the eyes and give rise to sorrow, they become tears. Circulating back and forth, they nourish the entire body, and in the end none of them leave “Shen water” (a Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) term referring to the nourishing semen or saliva within the body).

The wondrous subtlety of this is hard to put into words, and very few people truly understand it. It can nourish the ten thousand things and cause Jing and Qi (vital energy) to arise; yet people constantly waste their years and delay for long periods. If one now wishes to cultivate, one must still rely on Shen (spirit) and Qi.

Fame and the body—which of the two is more intimate? Shen circulates within the body, nourishing the whole, and ultimately it too never leaves Shen water.

The wondrous subtlety of this is hard to put into words, and very few people truly understand it. It can nourish the ten thousand things and cause Jing and Qi to arise; yet people constantly waste their years and delay for long periods. If one now wishes to cultivate, one must still rely on Shen and Qi.

Fame and the body—which of the two is more intimate? If Shen and Qi cannot be made stable, all the hard work is in vain. It is a pity that there is a fine foundation, yet it is like a golden palace and jade hall empty of its master.

I advise you, this master, to dwell there lastingly. When the mind is clear, still, and at ease, there is no need to make other arrangements. The wondrous existence arises from nonexistence and is hard to grasp; it is like raising an infant, which must rely upon the mother.

Restrain your cleverness and eloquence, and also know how to remain silent; gather in the Shen and learn to be like a dull, ignorant person who does not display any sharpness. Firm your will and press forward with single-minded focus; whether the cultivation succeeds or not, you must persist all the way to the end.

— A song presented by Master Niu Jia to Scholar Ma.

Ma Chushi (chushi, a recluse who lives in seclusion without holding office), several years ago we met at Penpu, in the season of spring. Hand in hand we entered the dusty world and searched through all the caves of Mount Lu. In the mountain forests a hundred flowers vied in splendor, their fragrance drifting over streams and springs; the clustered peaks appeared as if dyed in thick ink. Our ears heard only the chirping of birds, never the clamor of the marketplace.

That day we carried two gourds of wine and rested beside the stream. We gathered tender bamboo shoots and fresh ferns, struck stones to kindle a fire, cooked wild game, and plucked pine blossoms at random to accompany the wine. After seven or eight cups in succession our ears grew hot; suddenly our hearts and minds felt open and penetrating, as if we had grasped the Xiyi—the subtle, hidden, and ineffable realm. We then sang aloud upon the rocks, utterly unrestrained. We walked a few steps, paused a few steps, picking flowers in a wild, madcap fashion; when weary we simply lay down and slept. Upon waking it seemed only a short while had passed, yet a woodcutter said we had slept for several months. We sat down once more upon the rocks, body and mind at ease, spirit clear and refreshed. Becoming an immortal and attaining the Dao (the Way) has its own appointed time; what need is there to speak of chasing fame and profit? Having said these words, I parted from you.

After our separation I entered Mount Hezao, visited the realm of Clear Emptiness, climbed Mount Zihe, wandered the land of Yumu, and roamed at ease in the true realm within the gourd (an image Daoism uses to symbolize the immortal lands). Let the dusty world’s time rush by as it will; worldly people laughed at my destitution and downfall, yet I hid my sharpness, withdrew my traces, and took delight in myself. Clad in a green straw rain-cape, wearing a blue bamboo hat, carrying a large iron ladle, I begged money here and there to buy wine and mixed among the dusty world. Suddenly I came to Jianchang Commandery at the foot of Mount Magu and met four fellows in a wineshop. Each wore tattered clothing, yet they displayed uncommon immortal bones; they howled and chanted, seeming drunk yet not drunk.

I asked a young boy who held a sword; he said the four were Recluse Zhongli, Master Lü, Liu Haichan, and Chen Qizi. They summoned me forward, saying my innate bone physiognomy was extraordinary and that I was a true immortal talent. They had sought worthy persons for several decades without finding a suitable candidate, and so they transmitted to me the secret formula of the Golden Elixir (Jindan).

They told me: “Within the deep and obscure there is Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy); within the vague and elusive there is a real substance. This thing is not an ordinary thing, this Jing is not ordinary Jing. Heaven obtains it and becomes clear; Earth obtains it and becomes stable; humans obtain it and possess spiritual nature; the ten thousand things obtain it and grow. One need only hold to the origin and guard the One (guarding the original Qi and the mind-spirit, remaining concentrated without scattering), withdraw the sharpness, dissolve the turmoil, hold the Seven-Star Sword (symbolizing the practitioner’s use of methods and formulas to regulate body and mind), turn the Heavenly Pass and the Earthly Axis, unite Yin-Yang, harmonize Qian and Kun, open the gate of Kan and Li (symbolizing water and fire, Yin and Yang), and cause Dragon and Tiger (in Neidan, internal alchemy, symbols of the Yin and Yang Qi within the body) to meet. Then pass through the transformations of Wu and Ji (symbolizing spleen earth and the harmonization of Yin and Yang); when the work is complete and guarding the One has succeeded, the Golden Elixir can be refined.

“This is a numinous treasure bestowed by Heaven, and also the most precious thing in the human world; it is the mysterious within the mysterious, the honored among the honored. You must carefully conserve it and diligently cultivate.”

Ma Chushi, Ma Chushi, this method is available for everyone to practice, yet because people’s understanding is unclear and their mind-spirit confused, they are sunk in worldly desires and value hearsay over personal verification—how many truly understand? Some take deluded thoughts for storing the Shen (spirit); some only swallow saliva; some cultivate with exhausting daoyin techniques that strain the body; some close the breath and sit lifelessly; some only swallow external breath; some fast and endure hunger; some externally smelt lead and mercury; some indulge in the arts of the bedchamber; still others ramble about emptiness. They themselves do wrong, yet open their mouths to speak of cause and effect, uttering incongruous words.

Still others speak of recitation practices, Buddhist doctrines and Chan mechanisms, and transmit the Dharma-gate of Patriarch Bodhidharma. If the body is not cultivated and the spirit not nourished, life vanishes in a flash like a dream. Everyone claims they have already been reborn in the Western Paradise, yet in the end they turn into a heap of ashes.

Ma Chushi, Ma Chushi, one must seek that real substance within the vague and elusive, seek Jing and Qi within the deep and unfathomable, so that form and spirit penetrate and communicate, and finally unite with the Dao and become true. Such people are only you and I.

In a valley among the rear cliffs of Qingcheng Mountain, Gu Zi possesses a miraculous spring-well that seems to connect straight through to the summit of Kunlun Mountain. The water within the well is called “Yunxu” (as written in the original, suspected to be a copyist’s error), capable of nourishing vegetation and succoring living beings. This spring water never ceases throughout the four seasons and is visible to all; the twin orbs of sun and moon are reflected in its surface, while the Crow and Rabbit (the Golden Crow of the sun and the Jade Rabbit of the moon, commonly used to symbolize the sun and moon) alternate in their courses without ever pausing.

Yet although everyone can see this well, no one knows how to draw its water. Approaching too closely, one instead falls into the well, becoming submerged without even realizing that one has already entered peril. At this point in the original text a passage is severely garbled and cannot be interpreted with certainty.

Gu Zi possesses a marvelous bamboo pole; once it is found, the well water can be obtained. The pole is hollow and unobstructed at every joint, and in drawing water there is no need for bucket or bottle: one merely extends the tip of the pole into the well and can shuttle back and forth drawing water without breaking it. The water obtained is sweet and delicious; when the sick drink it they become peaceful, and it also relieves hunger and thirst. In the original, the section describing how the bamboo pole draws water contains lacunae or erroneous characters, so the precise method cannot be confirmed.

Although the scriptures contain numerous discussions and disclose the knack, without a master’s personal instruction it remains extremely difficult to locate the true formula indicated by this “water pole.” Should someone obtain both the pole and the spring, they can succor those who cultivate and study; yet even though the true formula is occasionally revealed, few among the world’s people, upon hearing it, turn their minds to genuine comprehension.

The well appears as if it can be sounded, yet drawing near causes one to drown. Only Gu Zi has grasped the subtle meaning within and knows how to draw the water without sinking. He neither hurries nor expends effort, employing only a minute and ingenious method; when the water is full he withdraws the pole and pours it into a golden bottle (in the context of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) often referring to a symbolic vessel of cultivation), moistening the “pearl” contained therein (a common symbolic term in Neidan, whose precise referent must be determined from context). Drawing water in this manner involves neither danger nor failure; with prolonged practice one will gradually become spiritually efficacious, even able to transform an aged countenance into youthful appearance.

Gu Zi’s bamboo pole looks ordinary; if people of the world take it and try to imitate, they usually lose their hold the moment they reach the well’s brink. Among ten thousand, scarcely one truly masters it. People chase after wealth without realizing that wealth injures them; the water in the well can nourish life, yet they likewise fail to understand. Only the immortals have disclosed this subtle intent, and everyone speaks of the matter; if one can cultivate day and night, draw the “water” and ingest it, one may preserve the form and extend longevity. The concluding phrase “preserve the form and never die” is the scripture’s description of the fruits of cultivation.

This group of poems uses alchemical terminology as a metaphor for Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation. Terms such as “lead,” “mercury,” “yellow sprout,” and “divine water” have different meanings in different alchemical traditions; they should not simply be taken here as ordinary metals or medicinal substances. The poems repeatedly emphasize that the key to practice lies in understanding the transformations of Yin-Yang, mastering the fire timing, and bringing the Qi (vital energy) of body and mind into harmony.

The method of “lead and mercury” has been transmitted for a very long time, yet few people truly understand it and put it into practice. If everyone knew the secret of the numinous medicine, those who seek immortality would be as numerous as flowing water. The Great Dao (the Way) is clearly right before our eyes, yet people of the present age do not know where to seek the “lead.” The “yellow sprout” is the nascent state of the Qi of Heaven and Earth, while “divine water” is connected with “mercury”; both are names used in alchemy for the transformations of Jing (essence) and Qi.

The poems compare the newly born “Maiden” (Laonü) to a drunken infant, describing how the elixir, when first achieved, is still tender and immature and must be patiently warmed and nourished in a quiet place. The practitioner should concentrate on regulating the fire timing, persisting day and night so that the elixir Qi does not lose its balance. As Heaven and Earth open and the sun and moon rise, the Qi of Yin-Yang also changes with the seasons; only after a long period of warming and nourishing, like a fetus leaving its amniotic sac, can one complete a stage of cultivation.

People of the world search everywhere for the “yellow sprout,” yet the poems say that it is within the “lead”—that is, the fundamental Qi stored in the practitioner themselves. When lead and mercury combine, they form what is called “true earthly Qi”; only after “emerging from the sac” does the “numinous cinnabar” appear. But even if yellow sprouts filled the world, few would recognize them. Even if one knows what the yellow sprout is, without mastering the gateway of cultivation there is still no way to begin.

Speaking of cinnabar alone is not enough to make the practice truly efficacious; the key lies in grasping the transformations of true Qi. “There is something within the lead, and mercury within the elixir” means that the elements needed for alchemy contain one another and are mutually related, yet people of the world often lose their way because of this. Cultivation must accord with Heaven and Earth and the mysterious Dao, so that “child and mother” depend upon each other. The poems also say “mercury first, then lead,” reminding us not to disorder the sequence or lose the accompanying element, or else the chance of achievement will fly away like a crane.

“Two-eight” is a term in alchemy for measures or proportions of combination; “entering the furnace” and “fire timing” borrow the language of Waidan (external alchemy) to mean regulating and controlling the process of cultivation according to the seasons. The poems remind the practitioner to seize the right moment, patiently warm and nourish, and not allow the “yellow sprout” to form while the “mercury” remains unrefined. The following lines say that mercury is in the central palace and the yellow sprout in the south; one must first consider this carefully and not mix them together. The yellow sprout is not hard to obtain; it is only that people do not understand the principle within it and speak of it lightly.

Finally, the poems lament that although people everywhere talk of the yellow sprout, few truly cherish the root of cultivation. Even high ministers and nobles who have heard of the numinous medicine often, out of greed for fame and profit, fail to comprehend its Dao even as their lives draw to an end.

The sun and moon never cease their courses, yet people remain constantly occupied. The true Dao (the Way) stands plainly before our eyes; the essential point is to comprehend the principles of Yin-Yang. Every household already possesses “lead” and “mercury” (terms in Neidan (internal alchemy) that symbolize the two forces of Yin and Yang), yet people are frequently bewildered by them and stray into vague and impenetrable regions.

The Qi (vital energy) of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)—known as the “Five Movements,” referring to the laws governing the cyclical transformations of the Five Phases—can clearly be inferred by following their inherent principles. Among these, the teaching that “mercury is within lead” is the most profound. Once one knows that lead and mercury exist in the world, one should resolutely investigate the Dao without hesitation.

The Dao has bequeathed a volume of Jing (scripture/classic); the natural transformations of heaven and earth corroborate what the text describes. Lead and mercury are originally generated by heaven and earth and reside within the human body; why search elsewhere for the names of so-called medicinal substances?

To make use of lead, one must bring mercury into union with it; the two join like families allied by marriage, each cooperating with the other. When the work of refinement reaches the “Purple River Cart” (a Neidan term denoting a crucial stage or inner transformation that arises during cultivation), white clouds attend it and immortal cranes circle overhead.

The “Chart of the Jia-Yi Spirits Driving Creation” (a diagram that portrays the transformations of creation through the imagery of the heavenly stems and spirits) contains the “Harbor Dragon,” who knows what constitutes the finest lead. Although the principle is already evident and ought not to be difficult to grasp, people nevertheless claim that the words of the immortals are as insubstantial as riddles.

The green dragon and white crane circle past.

In the “Chart of the Jia-Yi Spirits Driving Creation,” the “Harbor Dragon” knows what constitutes the finest lead. Although the principle is already evident and ought not to be difficult to grasp, people nevertheless claim that the words of the immortals are as insubstantial as riddles.

The green dragon and white tiger (which in Neidan symbolize the two forces of Yin and Yang) unite and form the elixir embryo; only after ten months of refinement within the furnace does it mature and open. This is the personally transmitted oral formula concerning the “Yellow Sprout” (a Neidan term for the initial subtle Qi that is born in the course of elixir cultivation). Where else can people of the world go to seek the principles of the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity?

Lead and mercury reside in the Qian position (the Heaven position among the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), commonly used to symbolize Yang); they are not to be found in the remote mountains. Practitioners should devote themselves day and night to work at the Three Passes (the crucial points in Neidan through which the meridians and the movement of Qi travel). Even if the young indulge their willfulness, they will later gradually display the signs of decline.

One who seeks the Dao should concentrate on exploring toward the north; the Yellow Sprout grows within lead. The “Cinnabar Dame” (a symbolic appellation in Neidan) is the genuine numinous medicine; once one gains her companionship, they may proceed together to Dapeng (the name of an immortal realm).

The Dao has never disappointed anyone. The principles of lead and mercury are plainly present, yet people cast them aside like so much dust. Do not claim that the world lacks numinous medicine: the cinnabar formed from the two Qi of Yin and Yang is precisely the true principle of water and fire.

This substance is innate from the beginning; it is merely that people fail to understand it. The true Qi of Yin and Yang turns from Dui to Li (Dui and Li being names of trigrams in the Bagua, here indicating transformations of the Yin-Yang Qi mechanism). In the Kan palace (the Water position among the Bagua) it undergoes “five generations” (a Neidan term referring specifically to stages or transformations in cultivation), and one inquires after its name and surname. To recognize the Yellow Sprout is the very foundation of accomplishing the sagely Dao.