《太玄朗然子进道诗》

I was born beside the Zhang River into a wealthy family, and in my youth I studied the Confucian classics (Jing) and passed the provincial examination as a tribute scholar. Yet I came to lament how swiftly the world changes, like an arrow in flight, and how quickly the years rush by, like a waterfall in full flood. So I withdrew into the Mysterious Gate of the Dao, settled my body and mind, and put on the robes and cap of a Daoist. Practicing Waidan (external alchemy) gave me insight into profound and subtle principles; practicing internal Qi (vital energy) cultivation taught me the root of reversing the breath and of embryonic breathing. Before ten years of practice had passed, people were astonished that I had not aged. My lifespan has now exceeded five ji (about three hundred years), and I am astonished myself. Since such marvelous transformations have occurred, it is truly hard to stay silent. I have therefore respectfully written thirty poems, entitled Poems of Langranzi, and present them to fellow practitioners. I hope you will all hold lofty aspirations and recognize that becoming a sage is not beyond reach; it is only that people harbor doubts within themselves. At the end of winter in the wuzi year of the Duangong era of the Song (988), while residing at the Tongxuan Temple in Luoyang, I wrote this preface on a sudden impulse. Signed, Langranzi.

For decades I was frustrated and dissolute, steeped in banquets and wine, indulging my nature day after day and sleeping until the sun was high. Later I sought out and opened the Niwan point (a point in the head, a key site of body-and-mind transformation commonly used in Daoist inner practice), refined the elixir, and so came to share in the authority over creation and transformation.

Since there is surely a road leading up to the clouds, a person's lifespan, I suppose, is not wholly determined by Heaven's decree. Do not say the Great Dao is hard to grasp; it is only that foolish and stubborn people refuse to learn the arts of immortality.

I wandered north and south for decades, quietly probing the mysterious principles and devoting my mind to cultivating the true. I do not chase the world's endless wealth; I seek only, among people, one genuine practitioner of the Dao.

I already understand the secret of fire-phasing in Waidan (external alchemy, in which elixirs are refined with the aid of substances), while my Neidan (internal alchemy, which cultivates Jing, Qi, and Shen within the body) runs constantly, sending the breath flowing back upward. Even if we met again after a thousand years, my appearance would be as radiant and renewed as it is now.

I dwell in a secluded, silent old temple in the capital Luoyang, surrounded by ancient moats. Though I engage with worldly affairs and feelings, my heart is not stained by them; though I live in the dusty world, the road I walk differs from the world's.

I do not fear spending a thousand days of painstaking effort on refining the elixir, and as I circulate Jing (essence) and Qi, I keep the channels of my four limbs open and flowing. The most precious and most valuable thing in the world is the true human body; apart from it, everything is empty nothingness.

Those who seek immortality come and go in great confusion, trekking over mountains and crossing rivers, drifting about like clouds. They all study the arts of longevity and look outward for something that will prolong life; yet in the end, they may never have truly heard of the Great Dao (the Way).

Within the body itself lies the road that leads up to the heavens, and does a person's back not bear the markings of transcendence beyond the dusty world? Sadly, ordinary people understand none of this. They are content to spend their lives in the wilderness and end up as dry bones in a grave.

Is a person alive only to prize glory, wealth, and money? It is lamentable that people come into the world and do not know how to cherish themselves. In the Dantian (energy center, the cultivation site within the body), a medicine that extends life can be nurtured, and in the Purple Palace (the Daoist term for the dwelling place of spirit and energy within the body), true Qi (vital energy) can be preserved without end.

Once Jing (essence) and marrow are full, one is no longer troubled by cold or heat; once the Way has been achieved, why fear the dawn and dusk that hurry the years along? It is sad that people busy themselves all day, chasing profit and fighting over reputation, while their minds grow ever more confused.

Be at ease and content, and set everything else aside; let the flowers bloom and fall, and the seasons turn as they will. Let others enjoy the honor of gold seals and official robes; dressed in plain clothes and cap, one is freer for it. May my life last as long as heaven and earth, with body and mind at leisure, keeping company with water and clouds. Yet one thing is puzzling: since Taishang Xuanyuan Zu (the honorific Daoists use for Laozi) lived so long, why does the popular tale say he was already white-haired in his youth?

I have lived in Jingluo (the Luoyang region) for more than ten springs, yet I was unwilling to sit idle and cling to the wealthy and powerful. I nourished my body so that my original Qi would not scatter; in my practice I kept the Valley Spirit (the Daoist term for inner vitality and spirit) always present.

When hungry, I swallow the saliva beneath my tongue to quell hunger; when cold, I use the fire of the Dantian to warm my body. I live in accord with my nature and find my own joy, and I have no need to put on a flattering face, even for a moment, to show gratitude for another's favor.

If one does not understand cultivation in this life but pins hope on the next, how will one understand it even then? Better to practice the road to heaven now; why wait until after death to sink beneath the earth?

The strength of the Yang soul (the hun, the spirit of Yang nature) does not depend on length of years alone; if the Yin soul (the po, the spirit of Yin nature) grows too strong, it may instead invite decline and death. All the hundred grasses wither after the frost, yet the green lotus alone endures, covering the water and keeping its freshness.

I was once close to the Confucians and Mohists and meant to seek an official post, but I suddenly realized that the profound and subtle principles are not hard to grasp. If Yin Qi can be made to recede, life will not decay; if Yang essence (the Yang energy and Jing within the body) can be preserved, the body will naturally be secure.

Within the body, one constantly circulates and refines an inexhaustible medicine, and in the cauldron the elixir that prolongs life is always being smelted. How lamentable are those who covet wealth and lust after beauty, tormented by their desires day after day.

Of all the affairs of the world, none is worth much discussion; only one's own physical form and original Qi (vital energy) matter most. The golden cauldron can refine the medicine that extends life, and the Dantian (energy center; in Neidan, or internal alchemy, the place within the body where cultivation takes place) can likewise nurture the root that keeps the complexion youthful.

Whenever I receive the teaching and grace of the great Dao (the Way), how could I casually accept favors from others as ordinary people do? I have already severed all concern for flourishing and decline, and I am unburdened by external things, yet I still grieve as the sun rises over heaven and earth. (The original phrase "垂麻瘾" is unclear in meaning; it is provisionally understood as the Dao bestowing instruction and transformation.)

The minor recluse dwells in the city, while the great recluse stays at ease and self-possessed amid the bustling marketplace. The mind is clear and bright, like the moon in the sky; the will is settled and firm, like mountains rising from the sea.

If you keep your eyes from being drawn by desire and beauty, your complexion will naturally appear youthful. And if you can also open the passage of the Niwan point (a key cultivation point in the head), why labor to refine the Great Returning Elixir (a high-level elixir in Daoist teaching)?

Some claim to know deeply the meaning of Xuanyuan (the origin of the Dao), yet have never learned to inquire into their own hearts. If the Qi of the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (the three places in the body where cultivation takes place) can flow through, and breath circulates through the two openings of the mouth (generally referring to the nose and mouth, where breath and saliva pass in and out), then saliva will naturally arise and be swallowed.

There are those who for years cross the seas in search of the medicine of immortality, or run about the mountains and forests seeking the immortal Way. How can that compare with seeking within oneself? Then one will find that the Dao of Xixi (the Daoist term for the Dao as formless and soundless) is in fact quite easy to find.

Dwelling in a secluded old temple is better than living in the mountains; the door is half hidden by wild moss, and hoofprints are few. In the quiet chamber one busies oneself swallowing the saliva of the mouth, while beneath the secluded window books as numerous as a forest lie idle.

Speak little of right and wrong, and your companions will naturally be few; without craving, honor and disgrace have nothing by which to move you. Follow the passing days in peace, live according to your own station, and let others call you a fool.

Refine the saliva of the mouth, while beneath the secluded window books as numerous as a forest lie idle.

Speak little of right and wrong, and your companions will naturally be few; without craving, honor and disgrace have nothing by which to move you. Follow the passing days in peace, live according to your own station, and let others call you a fool.

Refine the Yuan Jing (original essence; in Daoist Neidan, the essence within the body) and return it to simplicity; after all myriad practices, the end is only to return to one's true nature. If even a dull-witted person can attain the great Dao, why argue over whether immortals are beings different from ordinary people?

Repaying the Dao depends entirely on the day when merit and practice are complete; the Dao of Xixi never departs from the self. So long as you diligently circulate the harmonious Qi within the body (balanced and steady original energy), you will feel your complexion gradually grow radiant and young again.

In my youth I kept strict discipline and lived much like a Confucian scholar, and the years slipped by until I was past sixty. Later I met a man who possessed the Dao (the Way), studied the great Dao under him, and entrusted my nature and life to the Dao of emptiness and non-being.

As the Qi (vital energy) circulated, my once jet-black hair gradually turned white; as I nourished my Jing (essence) and Qi, my wrinkles slowly smoothed out. The greatest wish in life is to hold high office as a minister or chancellor, but by the lot assigned to me there was never any chance of it, and I could only hurry about in toil.

The breath travels along the meridians straight to the Niwan (an important point in the head, also often used to mean the brain). Once the meridians and joints are open and clear, a person can preserve a youthful appearance. When one understands, seeing clearly is as easy as turning over a hand; when one is confused, it is as though layer upon layer of mountains stood in the way.

While the Shen (spirit) remains unenlightened, all manner of thoughts churn in confusion; once it comprehends, the field of the heart grows still, and no worldly matter weighs on one any longer. To seek long life and rise beyond the dust of the world, one must in the end begin with stillness and ease within oneself.

Why should one fall into fixation in studying the Dao? The principle of Wuwei (non-action) must also be put into real practice. What is called "Qi swallowing the root and ancestor" does not mean breathing through the mouth; even when hungry, one must restrain craving and not let the appetites of mouth and belly take command.

Preserve the primal Jing (the innate essence of the body) and aging slows; cast out desire and the mind becomes as pure as an infant's. If one can also grasp the principle of harmonious emptiness and stillness, and understand the Chongtian point (a point spoken of in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy, practice), then one may hope to find the opportunity for a free and transcendent departure from the world.

Those who seek immortality all go off to learn the gathering of Yin elixirs (a kind of sexual technique that draws on Yin to supplement Yang), yet they do not know where Jing and Qi truly unite or how they return. Within a year, many are often bedridden; in the prime of youth, their looks instead decay.

Their Yang soul (the Yang Qi and spirit-soul of a person) weakens little by little, and in the end they still have not awakened to the Dao; the great matter of nature and life is treated as a trivial affair. If you wish to extend your years and remain long in the world, you should guard your Jing, nourish your Qi, and apply effort in quiet, pure cultivation.

Some strive bitterly for purple robes and master titles (the vestments and honorific ranks of the Daoist order) yet do not nurture Qi or refine the elixir. Before even reaching middle age their bodies have grown old; just when they ought to be strong, the hair at their temples has already turned white.

The clear-minded know there is a road to long life; the muddled are content to be carried off by the passing years like flowing water. I had already resigned my post and taken off my official robes, so why should I again run about for fame and profit? Contending for renown and gain is only ordinary worldly business, and should be set aside.

I have lived in the world for several decades, and however I look upon its scenes, they amount to no more than this. In my daily life I circulate the primal Qi to nourish my body and complexion, and I often ask those who cultivate the Dao about the way of cinnabar (an important material in alchemy, which can also refer to Neidan practice).

I do not envy rank and wealth, nor do I take honor and disgrace to heart. When I have money, I buy plenty of wine to drink, and with neither worry nor care, I have nothing to grieve over.

Once I studied hard for ten years by a window lit by fireflies, hoping to find the way of cinnabar and to seek the Dao from those who cultivate it.

I do not envy rank and wealth, nor do I take honor and disgrace to heart. When I have money, I buy plenty of wine to drink, and with neither worry nor care, I have nothing to grieve over.

After ten years of hard study by the light of a glow-worm lamp, I longed with all my heart to win an official rank, yet I failed twice at the spring metropolitan examinations (the chunwei, held in spring). Since my ambition has brought me no salary at all, perhaps in the end I may still have the chance to learn the Way of long life.

How could holding office compare with becoming an immortal? How could love of beauty compare with love of the great Dao (the Way)? So long as the complexion stays radiant, cultivating the Dao and ascending to immortality may yet become my future home.

What does fame leave behind between heaven and earth? How could it compare with devoting oneself to cultivation and taking the path that transcends the mortal world? Concentrate on refining the elixir through the nine transformations (the Daoist alchemical process of repeated refining and change); diligently circulate Qi (vital energy) until it reaches the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing; here, the highest realm revered in Daoism).

When the elixir is complete, there will naturally be a road to ascension; when the work of cultivation is fulfilled, one should return to the world beyond. People covet glory and wealth, yet it is better to cherish oneself and make body and mind firm.

People crave beauty and love wealth, and often lose their lives for it. Even when a light breeze touches the body, the ant fears the pain; when the yang soul (the hun-po soul associated with the activity of life) leaves the body, death is already decreed.

Once illness takes hold and physicians prove useless, people seek the gods everywhere, hoping to escape disaster. If one knew how to circulate Jing (essence) and Qi and nourish the primal Qi, how could the wish for long life be buried in a grave?

Do not envy vain splendor, and do not study only the Three Maos (the three Mao brothers revered in Daoism). Once you understand the Zhouyi (Book of Changes), pursue its principles with all your strength. After grasping the true nature of cultivating the Dao and drawing near to its fundamental principle, reduce worldly affairs and cut off ordinary social ties.

Let the yang essence (the vital essence within the body) circulate ceaselessly, and swallow the jade fluid (yuye, the Neidan (internal alchemy) term for saliva) constantly, without interruption. Wait only until the work of cultivation is complete, and you will turn into a dark crane and leave the nest of the dusty world.

Those who seek only an immortal art to transform them, merely to enrich their households, forget that the body grows weaker day by day and the years slip away. Craving beauty, one runs about for outward things; craving money, one counts life as light as clay.

They speak of the path of immortality with their mouths, yet in their hearts they are as greedy as yaksha (fierce demons of legend). Such stubborn and foolish people will never awaken, and the enlightened need not grieve for them.

Rather than bowing, burning incense, and making offerings to images of the gods, it is better to practice diligently yourself. Swallow the saliva faithfully, often practice cunshen (visualizing and holding the spirit, calming the mind and concentrating Shen (spirit) in unity), and at the fifth watch (the hour before dawn) listen and wait in stillness.

Do not abandon the rules of daily practice; often perform daoyin (guiding and stretching exercises that regulate body and breath), and carefully circulate the primal Jing (the essential Qi at the root of life). Even if you never ascend in the end, your name should still be left in the register of the immortals.

Stop burying yourself in the Nine Classics and the Three Histories; they will do little to help you in the end on the path of cultivation. How can they compare with nurturing and regulating the breath, tending the primal harmonious Qi (气) within the body, and personally tending the "great elixir furnace" (a metaphor for refining the internal elixir, Neidan 内丹)?

Preserving the Yang essence, or Jing (精), within the body can in the end help a person prolong life and extend their years; once the Golden Elixir (金丹) is refined to a golden solidity, one can transcend the mortal world. The road to long life plainly exists, yet it is a pity that ordinary people, clouded in heart and mind, grow only more dull.

The pursuit of wealth and rank and the craving for possessions have no end; and what does it matter if one becomes a high official or the richest man in the region? How can that compare with a tranquil mind that no longer schemes or calculates, leaving body and mind at ease and free from doubt?

Sleep soundly with songs for a pillow and let the spring days run long; circulate and nourish the Jing and Qi so that the hair at your temples does not turn white too soon. When we meet again beyond the dusty world, we will find that we were immortals all along, and that another day of reunion awaits.

True lead and true mercury (terms in Neidan for the inner medicines, standing for Yin-Yang, Jing and Qi) are not hard to find; ordinary people simply set their minds to the wrong use. The moon's po-soul and the sun's hun-soul (symbolizing Yin and Yang respectively) are easy enough to tell apart, but the principles behind the wood essence and the fire phase (sayings in alchemy about the transformations of the Five Phases (五行) and the timing of practice) run very deep.

At this point the original text reads "苦辛运药须三鬓毛衰," and its meaning seems to be corrupted or incomplete, so it cannot be interpreted with certainty. The following lines say that laboring to circulate the elixir takes three years, that the practitioner will undergo transformation and can even transmute the five metals. To transcend the world, one need only take a single pill; the immortals of Penglai, Yingzhou, and the Kunlun isles will all become kindred spirits.

Qi rises along the Jiaji (夹脊, the middle of the spine) and through the Double Passes (双关, two gateways in the back) to the Crown Gate (顶门, the gateway at the top of the head); this is the fundamental route of practice. Swallow often the jade fluid of the Flower Pond (华池, the Neidan term for the saliva in the mouth), sending it upward to the Lord of the Purple Palace (紫府元君, a divine title in Neidan that also refers to the corresponding spirit-palace within the body).

Let the Qi flow and surge constantly so that the joints are open and free; Jing and Qi will then naturally be abundant, and the Valley Spirit (谷神, the Daoist term for the inner nature of emptiness, stillness, and luminous awareness) will be preserved and nourished. Once you reach the realm of long life, you should remember with gratitude the one who first guided and taught you.

Langranzi (朗然子) was formerly the abbot of Tongxuan Temple in the Tang dynasty. His deeds were marvelous, and his attainments were far from ordinary. He lived in seclusion in the world for a hundred years, and in the Duangong era of the Song dynasty he ascended to heaven in broad daylight at Peach Blossom Ward. The court bestowed on the temple the name Jizhen Temple (集真观). His thirty poems, Poems on Awakening to the Dao as an Immortal, have been handed down.