《海琼问道集》

Reading Han Yu's verses on the Peach Blossom Spring, I find myself longing for a misty realm of immortals. Reading Bai Juyi's lines on the immortal mountains over the sea, I feel the urge to return to Tushita Heaven (one of the heavens in Daoist teaching). The human heart has no fixed measure; it keeps producing new thoughts from whatever it hears. Alas! I have heard that the way of the immortals can be attained through learning, and that long life without death can be achieved through effort. I dare not claim I will succeed, but I am willing to study with diligence. Since childhood I have loved the cultivation of immortality and have driven myself single-mindedly to practice it. Without noticing, the Renzi year has passed and the Dingchou year has come. Human years rush by so swiftly; where, then, can this aging body find its rest?

Heaven granted me an opportunity, and gradually I came to hear of the great Dao (the Way). In the spring of that year I met my true teacher, Master Haiqiong, surnamed Bai, personal name Yuchan. Some say he was a native of Hainan; others guess his family came from the region of Xiangyang and Mianyang. Sometimes, with his hair unbound and his feet bare, he walked among the crowds of the marketplace; at other times, wearing a green headscarf and plain clothes, he wandered through the Daoist temples. At times he blended into worldly life, at times he held himself half apart from it, and so people could not make out where he came from.

He called himself twenty-one years old, and there was no scripture of the Confucian, Buddhist, or Daoist teachings that he had not studied. Whenever he spoke with others, his allusions poured out without end, and his learning seemed broader than that of the most erudite scholars of his day. He was skilled in every script, whether standard, cursive, seal, or clerical, and his calligraphy showed subtle and ingenious design. He also dabbled now and then in the zither, chess, and painting, using them to play his way through the world. Those he kept company with were the talented and renowned of his time. Even among those who admired him, few had the chance to draw close and follow him.

He carried not a single sheet of paper, yet wherever he went he could take up a brush and write, and his writings were scattered in every direction. He traveled throughout the rivers and lakes, his fame spread across the realm, and his followers were as numerous as the hairs on a body. Some often saw that his bag held not one coin nor one grain of rice. Sometimes, when he was deeply drunk, he would call down thunder and lightning; sometimes, while asleep, he could still submit memorials (documents presented to the celestial deities in Daoism). He would be joyful, then angry, then laughing, then weeping, so that he seemed not very clever; yet at times the words he spoke proved true in foretelling fortune and misfortune. He yearned urgently to aid the world and benefit others.

He sat in stillness through the night with a lamp lit, and by day he beat the railings and sang. In the morning he did not wash his face, at midday he lit no fire to cook, and for years he made little use of water or fire. He spoke of "ear-cry, eye-pupil" (erze muyou), and sometimes said things like "tooth-proclamation" (yaxuan) to his guests; I did not understand what they meant. Though he had not drunk wine, he seemed drunk, and even after waking he still appeared dazed. Scholars from many places have already printed his essays and carved his sayings into blocks, in great quantity.

He often seemed angry and rarely showed fear, and his conduct was very different from ordinary custom. For that reason I admired him, as a lodestone and an iron needle are drawn to each other. I was fortunate to receive from him the writings on the Nine Cauldrons, with their gold, lead, cinnabar, and mercury, along with such secret methods of cultivation as the Taiyi dagui (the Supreme Unity measure) and the fire tallies and golden liquor, as well as ritual texts such as the Zixiao summoning of fate and the calling of wind and commanding of thunder. I often thought: since I had formerly offended Heaven and fallen into the human world, by what right could I receive these teachings? So I vowed that even if it exhausted my body, I would practice them earnestly, hoping not to fail what I had been taught.

I respectfully compile one or two of the exchanges of question and answer from ordinary times that can awaken and inspire others, and print them for circulation, so that like-minded people throughout the world may gain some understanding. Master Bai's lineage comes from Chen Niwan; Chen Niwan received it from Xue Daoguang; Xue Daoguang from Shi Tai; Shi Tai from Zhang Pingshu; Zhang Pingshu in turn from Liu Haichan; and Liu Haichan from Lü Dongbin. The world knows Master Bai as a person and has read his books, so why should I add more words?

Written with a respectful bow, and a second preface, by Ziyuanzi, Liu Yuanchang.

The opening of the Longhu Fu (Rhapsody of the Dragon and Tiger) praises the Nine-Times-Transformed Golden Liquid and the Seven-Times-Returned Great Reverted Elixir (terms in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) that symbolize the stages of refining Jing (essence) into Qi (vital energy), and Qi into Shen (spirit)) as the very foundation for harmonizing Shen and Qi and for cultivating nature and life.

The practitioner should revere the supreme subtle principle represented by "Anuo," and receive the essence made manifest by Damo (here a symbol of transmission or method). The body is like cinnabar and the heart-spirit like mercury. As sun and moon rise and set, the symbolic forces of the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, and Vermilion Bird work in concert. Yinghuo (Mars) resides in the Gui position and undergoes the changes of "bathing." The Crimson Palace in the Bing position (the symbolic seat of the heart-spirit) is like the dwelling of the Son of Heaven, governing the profound realm of the Yellow Court (the central locus of cultivation within the body). Cultivation must be compassionate and benevolent, yet also dignified and firm.

Kan and Li represent water and fire, and also correspond to Heaven and Earth and to Yin-Yang. The hexagrams Qian and Kun intermingle and exchange positions. True lead is the Qi of the Prior Heaven, the root and chief of all the medicinal substances. Firmness and softness, inner and outer, female and male each follow their own order. Metal and fire contain and nourish one another, embodying the principle of refining through water and fire together. When the first yang line (Initial Nine) has not yet revealed its marvelous transformation, the heart of Heaven already holds a gentle warmth of yang Qi. Wood-mercury is born in the east, and the essence of metal is conceived in the west. The changes of trigrams such as Xun and Qian correspond respectively to the movement of the four seasons and to benevolence, righteousness, and proper measure.

The upper and lower furnaces (a metaphor for the cauldron and stove of alchemy) are matched, and cinnabar and mercury unite, forming the Spirit Chamber (the inner place where the medicine is condensed) through resonance. The lunar mansions Zhang, Xu, Wei, and Yi are likewise used to symbolize the timing and positions of the refining. Metal does not crack apart, and earth does not float away lightly. The medicine now lies hidden, now rises, changing as it moves up and down. Though it cannot be confined to fixed line positions, it ultimately returns to the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) and encompasses all the medicines. The elixir sometimes appears and sometimes lies concealed. Water and metal congeal into the elixir, the essence of the sun dissolves the division between Kan and Li, and Yin-Yang shift as they wax and wane, floating and sinking.

The "Metal Lord" (symbolizing metal, or the yang medicine) seeks substance from within Kan, while the "Old Maiden" (symbolizing mercury, or the yin medicine) knocks upon and joins the emptiness within Li. Metal restrains wood, and water nourishes fire. The Yellow Emperor raises his banner in the metal position, and metal, wood, and fire transform into one another like specks of dust in a bright window. Once metal and fire have blended, the essence returns to unity. The ancient measure "one jin is sixteen liang, or three hundred eighty-four zhu" is also used to illustrate how the number of yin and yang lines corresponds to the proportions of the medicines. The Zhen trigram receives yang Qi. Water appears dark and black, while metal appears ochre-yellow. Mountains, rivers, and the great earth seem to condense within emptiness. Essence-fluid mingles with cinnabar and melts into the true medicine. Black lead turns white, and vermilion mercury becomes crystalline. The flower of metal emerges in the haze and returns to the realm of stillness and emptiness.

Water has the number one, fire the number two, and earth the number five. Metal and water moisten and nourish each other, and the essence of Heaven and Earth moves through the Qi of Wu and Ji (earth). The twelve positions of the Dipper's handle correspond to the twelve musical pitches (a symbolic system linking stars and tones), driving the course of the Mercury-Sun's hun soul and the Golden Moon's po soul. Yang essence is the root of the Bifang (fire bird). The Kun trigram first changes into Zhen and then into Dui, symbolizing the gradual union of sun and moon. When sun and moon join like paired jade discs, the first-quarter moon is as level as a plumb line. When the Qi of the three yang lines is full and complete, bright light appears in the eastern Jia position. The toad, symbol of the yin essence in the moon, changes according to the rhythm of the trigrams, and the hare-spirit (likewise a symbol of the moon) breathes forth radiance. The Qian trigram changes first to Xun and then to Gen, and the moonlight emerges from the Xin position to appear at Bing. After the cycle has turned five or six times, Yin and Yang meet at the Yi position. Earth, wood, and metal harmonize into a liquid and return to their original symbolic state.

Within the Spirit Chamber of the Thunder Hour, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) turn at the center, while the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) are arrayed around the perimeter. The Yin Talisman and Yang Fire (terms in Neidan for the movement of Yin-Yang and the regulation of the fire phases) change in succession, like an egg hatching over sixty days, while the Five Peaks lie hidden yet standing firm. The crown of the head is like Qian-metal, and the soles of the feet like Kun-water. Yin-Yang accord with the natural course, and the Qi of balanced harmony spreads and flows. The numinous fluid passes in and out of the body's gateways, and black lead is refined into true earth. Within the spring-cavern, white metal gives birth to mercury. At the end of the Hai hour, yang Qi stirs and the sun travels through the south. The Five Stars align in a single line, and the metal sand is transformed in step with the breath. The sun and moon move now slowly, now swiftly, and star formations such as Ziwei, Huagai, and Santai are used to represent the forces that regulate the transformation.

The sun-fire gathers the essence of the Five Stars and refines the earth of the central palace. The moon-metal receives the regulation of the six pitches and enters the northern position of water. Fire is the parent of the medicine, and the medicine is the offspring of fire. Water, earth, and metal each have their own sequence of waxing and waning, while metal and mercury hold each other in balance within the cauldron and furnace. The Earth Mother (symbolizing the earth Qi that harmonizes from the center) summons the Qi of the four directions; the yang of Qian stirs and answers to the sun, moon, and stars. The essence of metal and fire illuminates a single chamber, but if the water dries up and the fire goes out, the refining can hardly continue. When the Qi of Dragon and Tiger meet, and the natures of metal and wood unite, feeling and nature congeal, and the "child pearl" of the inner elixir is warmed and nurtured into being.

Water is like a subtle, wondrous radiance, and earth is like the mother of metal. In the elixir chamber a flowing pearl of liquid forms; yellow and black blend and return to the primal essence of water and earth. Purple blossoms unfurl and the yellow liquid ripples, yet the divine medicine is not yet complete. Metal gives birth to water, and lead, once refined, becomes white metal. The white metal becomes the Spirit Chamber, and within the chamber are held metal and water. When the color of the fire settles, the medicine turns yellow. When water and fire congeal in the central palace, the Golden Liquid is not easily scattered; as fire refines the flower of metal, only changes like light smoke and thin mist can be seen. White metal is a thing with form, while fire-Qi tends toward formlessness. After the mercury is refined, the subtle mechanism of the divine emerges from emptiness and non-being, and water and fire hold their purest essence within, as sun and moon guard the Qi of balanced harmony.

Within the black lead lie the essence of metal and the dark water, enfolding the mercury within Kan. The yellow sprout reveals the white medicine, and the metal, like a red bud, takes water as its mother. The true medicine floats up within the Flower Pool (symbolizing the place where the inner medicinal liquid is refined). The plain altar and the cauldron-furnace are borne up like a great sea turtle, and within the Spirit Chamber lie winding passes and gates. When metal, earth, and mercury unite, marvelous transformations arise of their own accord.

Ah, the mystery of the Golden Elixir of Liquid Gold, the Great Returning Elixir (the highest attainment of cultivation in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy), is as profound as the meeting of heaven and earth with the sound of the zither, sinking into stillness and emptiness. At dawn, the heavenly bodies move toward the left; at dusk, they turn toward You (the west). In the palace of the sun a Jade Hare leaps, and in the mansion of the moon a Golden Crow takes flight. The Maiden (an alchemical agent of Yin nature in Neidan) rides the Red Dragon, while the Lord of Metal (the Yang agent) crouches upon the Black Tiger.

Mercury is conceived within cinnabar, and silver lies sealed within lead. When the Four Images (the four basic elements of Neidan) have turned to their limit, the movement of the Five Phases (Wuxing) is governed by Earth. The Yellow Dame (the mediator who harmonizes Yin-Yang) wears garments like a rainbow, and Dingqian (a term from the original text, its meaning unclear) feeds on blue-green mist. Black and white separate to reveal the Mysterious Female (the gateway from which all things are born); the Flowery Pool (a bodily region or state in cultivation) wells up with jade fluid. The infant gives birth to the Dark Pearl, and the red furnace refines hardened gold.

The azure tortoise has red feet, and the white grub has a black back. The jade vine flourishes in the Valley of Spirit, and golden millet sprouts in the Dantian (energy center). The padma flower opens, and the leaves of the deva clouds fall. The Southern Winnowing Basket star stirs the position of Kan, while the handle of the Northern Dipper points to the position of Li. As the heavenly configuration brings the sun and moon back to their return, the planet Yinghuo (Mars) travels through the Six Voids (the six directions). The wheel of wind meets water and fire, and within the boundless expanse the three lines of a trigram are conceived.

Two joins with three, and the nursing and refining are complete; five and six circle round, passing through the number nine times nine. Locusts rise up, yet summer snow falls; plants and trees flourish, yet winter turns hot. The strength of Yang guards the city walls, while the softness of Yin transforms into ornament and treasure. The hare and the rooster bathe among orchids and angelica. The toad and the sunlight become spears and halberds. The Reclining Moon Furnace (the furnace-and-cauldron imagery of Neidan) is like the Heavenly Dipper, and the cinnabar cauldron is like Mount Kunlun. There are Qian's Primordial Origin and Qian's Difficult Beginning and Youthful Ignorance; Kun's Function and Kun's Obstruction and Peace. Chang'e is matched with Rahu, and Yangli with Yuebei (all astronomical or divinatory terms). Clear and turbid must be distinguished within the mud; the floating and the sinking must be sought within the fire. Host and guest each hold punishment and virtue, and between generating and overcoming, kindness and harm are interwoven.

Two eights form a double crescent moon, and two sevens return to the Qian trigram of nine. The moment of killing and attacking lies in the position of Gen, while deep investigation returns to the position of Zhen. The Great One (the supreme origin) is conceived in Wu and Ji, and all things are bound up with wind and moon. Iron, tin, copper, brass, and silver give rise to leaves like purple hibiscus. If someone asks what lies within the purple hibiscus leaf: a numinous fragrance fills the road, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning is like frost, and the Supreme Venerable Lord is like a cherry blossom. That is all!

Treatise on Revealing the Secrets of the Mysterious Pass

A single word or half a phrase can bring a person to understanding: iron, tin, copper, brass, and silver give rise to leaves like purple hibiscus. If someone asks what lies within the leaf: a numinous fragrance fills the road, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning is like frost, and the Supreme Venerable Lord is like a cherry blossom. That is all!

Treatise on Revealing the Secrets of the Mysterious Pass

A single phrase, even half a phrase, can open the mystery of the great Dao (the Way). Why read tens of millions of alchemical texts? If a person is not burdened by the physical form, the Daluo Heaven (the highest heavenly realm in Daoism) is right before their eyes. To cultivate body and spirit, one must understand the principle of returning to the root and restoring one's destiny. Returning to the root has its own key, and so does restoring destiny. If one truly recognizes this key, what difficulty remains? Hence it is said: to know the secret of becoming an immortal, one need only seek the source of creation and transformation.

The ancients said that emptiness gives rise to spontaneity, spontaneity gives rise to the Dao, the Dao gives rise to One Qi (vital energy), One Qi divides into Yin-Yang, Yin-Yang forms Heaven and Earth, and Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things. This is the source of creation and transformation. It is the Qi of the True One, the origin before any phenomenon appeared, dwelling in the Great Void, the Great Nothingness, the Great Emptiness, the Great Mystery. It is so deep that it cannot be fathomed with any measure, and so vast that no boundary can define it. It is so large that nothing lies outside it and so small that nothing lies within it: at its largest it encompasses Heaven and Earth, at its smallest it enters the most minute recesses. Nothing is higher above it and no abyss is deeper beneath it. Perfect and luminous, it has manifested through all the ages, yet no name can call it exactly. The sages comprehended it with the heart-mind, and only because they had no choice did they call it "Dao."

From this we know that the heart-mind is the Dao. Without selfish intent or attachment, one accords with the Dao; with an attached mind, one departs from it. The word "nothingness" embraces every formed thing without omission and nourishes the myriad beings without running dry. Heaven and Earth, vast as they are, can govern what has form but not what is formless. Yin-Yang, subtle as they are, can govern what has Qi but not what has none. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), refined as they are, can govern what has a fixed number but not what is beyond number. The thoughts that arise in great profusion can govern conscious activity but not the realm beyond consciousness.

To practice this principle, one may begin with refining the form. The key to refining the form lies in concentrating the Shen (spirit). When the Shen is concentrated, the Qi gathers; when the Qi gathers, the elixir forms; when the elixir forms, the body becomes stable; when the body is stable, the Shen is complete. Song Qiqiu said: "Forget the body to nourish the Qi, forget the Qi to nourish the Shen, forget the Shen to nourish emptiness." This word "forget" means not clinging to anything. As the saying goes, "Originally there is not a single thing, so where could dust alight?" This is exactly what is meant. If one can grasp this and work at "forgetting," one can enter the deep and subtle realm of the Dao, apply the wondrous principle of spontaneity, lay the foundation of the elixir in an instant, and let creation and transformation operate within oneself.

The Dao appears silent, soundless, and without form; the eyes cannot see it and the ears cannot hear it. Yet when one contemplates it with the heart-mind, images appear, and when one listens with the heart-mind, one senses its breath. If a student of the Dao can calm the heart-mind and concentrate the Shen until reaching a state of empty clarity and stillness, light will naturally arise within. This is truly the effect of spontaneity.

When Taishang (Supreme Venerable; an honorific for the highest deity or the Dao itself in Daoism) taught cultivation, he took Qian and Kun as the cauldron and furnace, and the sun and moon as the medicines. The rising and falling of the sun's soul corresponds to the ebb and flow of blood and Qi, and the waxing and waning of the moon's soul corresponds to the strength and decline of the spirit. The seasons of the year correspond to the hours of a day, and the movement of the stars across the heavens corresponds to the transformations in the furnace. Therefore one gathers the Shen as the medicine, takes stillness and concentration as the fire phasing, and uses the fire of stillness to refine the medicine of the Shen, producing the Golden Liquid Great Returned Elixir (in Neidan, or internal alchemy, a symbol of the perfect union of Jing, Qi, and Shen).

The key to the practice lies in the joining of true Yin and true Yang and the pairing of water and fire. One must first distinguish floating from sinking, then tell host from guest, grasp the timing of withdrawing and adding, and observe whether advance and retreat are fitting. Gao Xiangxian said: "Gathering the medicine has its day; taking the medicine has its hour." Liu Haichan said: "Open and close the authority of Qian and Kun's creation and transformation, and forge a furnace of true sun and moon." Those who understand can imitate the movement of the sun and moon and accord with the functions of Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth do not nurture the myriad things by relying on anything with form; therefore Heaven endures and Earth lasts long, the sun shines and the moon glows, the Qi of the True One remains forever, and the void does not decay.

Now I too imitate the Way of Heaven and Earth: I do not let affairs stir my heart-mind, nor let my heart-mind cling to affairs. Looking inward at my own heart-mind, I find it has no fixed substance; looking outward at my own body, I find it too has no fixed substance; looking farther at the myriad things, I find they likewise have no fixed, unchanging substance. Once one understands that heart-mind, body, and all things lack fixed self-nature, one can transcend every illusion and manifest a firm, independent luminous awareness. An ancient scripture says: "Emptiness gives birth to me; within nothingness I am placed." Therefore one should return to the source of one's nature, to the state before birth. Let the heart-mind be stored in the heart-mind without clinging, and let the Shen be stored in the Shen without display. In this way one penetrates past, present, and future, calms the ten thousand concerns, purifies the six sense faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind), and makes the inner heart clear. One clings neither to emptiness nor to nothingness; one empties away all emptiness and negates all nothingness, until even "emptiness" and "nothingness" are not held to. The heart-mind is then pure and undefiled, and luminous awareness stands alone of itself.

The Dao is not deliberately sought through emptiness; when the heart-mind becomes empty and still, the Dao returns of itself. If a person's heart-mind is empty, the Dao naturally returns to dwell in it. The Dao is originally nameless: nearby it cannot be seized, and far away it need not be abandoned. It lies neither within the round nor the square, nor is it confined to inside or outside; only the sages can comprehend it. The Three Poisons (greed, anger, and delusion) have no root, and the six desires have no seed. Awaken suddenly to this principle, and one returns to emptiness.

Laozi said: "Is not the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows? Empty, yet it never gives out; the more it moves, the more it produces." If, within stillness and concentration, one can preserve the harmonious Qi and guard the Jing (essence) of the True One, it is like sealing the elixir furnace and controlling the fire.

Fire belongs to the southern trigram Li, and Li corresponds to the heart; the heart governs the Shen, so the Shen is fire, and Qi is the medicine. Using fire to refine the medicine into the elixir means using the Shen to command the Qi and so attain the Dao. If a person can work the sun and moon within the heart-mind and grasp Hongmeng (the primordial state before Heaven and Earth separated), they will naturally see how Heaven and Earth, like a bellows, open and close, and will also sense how the Heche (the "river cart," a metaphor in Neidan for the circulation of Jing and Qi) rises and falls. Water-Qi nourishes the Palace of Destiny, and fire-Qi pours into the Elixir Terrace; Metal joins with Wood, and Water merges with Earth. The Maiden (Chanü, a Yin symbol in Neidan) rides the dragon, and the Golden Elder (Jinweng, a Yang symbol in Neidan) mounts the tiger. Jing and Qi flow in reverse through the Three Passes (the gateways through which Qi travels in Neidan practice), ascend to the Inner Court, transform into jade mercury, and then descend to the Multi-Storied Tower (the Neidan term for the throat). Among these places is one called the Elixir Terrace, where lead and mercury unite and water and fire join. When a thought arrives, it matches like a seal fitting a contract, naturally and without force.

Movement and stillness arise from what is unmoving; action arises from non-action (Wuwei). At this point, various Neidan images appear: white snow filling the sky, yellow sprouts covering the ground, dragons roaring and tigers howling, Yin and Yang answering one another. It is as if water were boiling in a jade cauldron and fire blazing in a golden furnace, with thunder and lightning shaking Heaven and Earth, the hundred vessels stirred and the Three Passes open. The Mysterious Pearl (in Neidan, a symbol of condensed true essence) appears and Taiyi returns to the true; wind rises in the Niwan Palace (the Neidan term for the head), the moon shines in the Crimson Palace (the Neidan term for the heart), the Dantian (energy center) grows warm, and the valley swamp turns clear. Refining the Returned Elixir becomes as easy as turning over one's palm. Only after the Seven Returns and Nine Revolutions (a Neidan term for the repeated refining of Jing and Qi and their return to the source) is the Great Medicine complete. Nourish it with warmth day and night until the elixir pellet turns, as though the gates of Heaven and the axis of Earth were held in one's own hands.

The scripture says: "If a person can always remain clear and still, Heaven, Earth, and all things will return to them." This is the Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown and the Five Qi Facing the Origin (in Neidan, a description of Jing, Qi, and Shen converging and the Qi of the five organs becoming one), through which one can enter the gate of all wonders and reach the mystery within mystery. Going further, one circulates and refines the spiritual Qi and the fire phasing day and night, warms and nourishes the Sacred Embryo, and brings forth the infant, until the embryo is shed and transformed into spirit, the Yang is restored, and the bones are replaced. This is using the jade talisman to preserve the Shen and the golden liquid to refine and nourish the body, so that form and spirit are both wondrous and one is united with the Dao in truth. Zhang Pingshu said: "In all, it takes only a moment's effort to enjoy boundless ease forever." These words are truly sound.

The foundation of the Dao, the root of the elixir, the source of the dragon and tiger, and the ancestral origin of lead and mercury all converge here. This is where the Three Fires gather and the Eight Waters flow home, the gate at which the myriad spirits assemble, and the source of the Golden Elixir's wondrous function. It is precisely the key to returning to the root and restoring destiny. Once this is understood, there is no need to drive away desires deliberately, for the heart-mind becomes clear of itself; nor is there any need to still the heart-mind deliberately, for the Shen becomes bright of itself. When not a single thought arises, all illusions come to rest; the body feels as if it were borne aloft on the wind, and the Shen roams in the vast, silent emptiness. Only then does one know that the clear breeze and bright moon both reveal the principle of lead and mercury joining, and that green mountains and flowing waters both display the meaning of dragon and tiger complementing each other.

Bai Yuchan of Hainan said that he once studied the alchemical method under his late teacher Chen Niwan. Each year on the winter solstice at the noon hour, he would follow the movement of Heaven's mechanism: open Qian and close Xun, retain Kun and seal Gen; follow the celestial signs and grasp the handle of the Dipper, passing in turn through symbolic heavenly realms and directions such as Xuanyuan, Fusang, and Guanghan; then face Chunwei and raise the Huangzhong. He would then take symbolic medicines, namely the liver of the Azure Dragon, the marrow of the White Tiger, the blood of the Red Phoenix, and the essence of the Black Tortoise, and place them in the earthen cauldron, set the fire phasing in motion, and transform them into cinnabar. He would open the Flower Pool, draw in the divine water, and take one dose of the elixir. Going from nothingness into being, he caused the formless to coagulate into form, then withdrew lead and added mercury to form the Sacred Embryo. When the ten months were complete, the Qi was full and the form was round, and there was a "body beyond the body," called the Embryo Immortal.

The secret is this: "Only when the heart-mind is single-pointed can the Shen concentrate. Make the heart-mind like ashes and return it to dark stillness, and the Golden Elixir will form within the body." This is the method Bai Yuchan received. Shi Jianwu has a poem that says: "Qi is the medicine that adds to life; the heart-mind is the Shen that commands the Qi. One who can be master of Qi and Shen is one who has attained immortality." The poem is simple and yet penetrates the mystery. After Bai Yuchan recited it, he naturally reached a state like an autumn moon hanging high while the void dissolves. Unless one's mind is like withered wood and cold ashes, it is hard to grasp its principle.

Having obtained this method, Bai Yuchan did not dare to keep silent and withhold it. The Taishang Xuanke says: "To meet the right person and not transmit the teaching goes against the Way of Heaven; to transmit it to the wrong person is to leak Heaven's treasure." He traveled to the ends of the earth without meeting the right person, and so did not dare transmit it lightly, fearing Heaven's punishment. Yet he also feared that the Dao would be lost and the alchemical method buried, so he wrote the Xuanguan Xianmi Lun (Treatise on Revealing the Secret of the Mysterious Pass), hoping to enlighten the present age, instruct later learners, and let the lineage of the Golden Elixir continue.

Fearing that people might still not understand, he explained further: use the eyes to observe the eyes, the ears to listen to the ears, the nose to regulate the nose, and the mouth to restrain the mouth and tongue. Gather in the body and heart-mind, store the Shen and guard the intent, for the root of it all lies in a single heart-mind. First one should practice stillness and concentration of the Shen, restrain anger, and moderate desire. In this way water and fire can complement each other, Metal and Wood can unite, and True Earth (in Neidan, a symbol of the harmonizing force at the center) returns to its place, so that the Golden Elixir naturally condenses to the size of a millet grain. As days and months accumulate, the Shen returns to Qi, the Qi returns to its source, and in the end it fills Heaven and Earth.

Mencius spoke of skillfully nourishing the vast, flowing Qi, and this is what he meant. When the liver-Qi is abundant, there is benevolence; when the lung-Qi is abundant, there is righteousness; when the heart-Qi is abundant, there is propriety; when the kidney-Qi is abundant, there is wisdom; and when the spleen-Qi is abundant, there is trustworthiness. If the Qi one receives is insufficient, one will lack benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness, and will not be a complete person. If a person can concentrate the Shen, guard emptiness, and nourish the vast, flowing Qi, their chest will be broad and their body and mind at ease; once the root of Qi is established, forming the elixir becomes easy. How, then, can one fail to nourish one's own root generously in order to preserve inner purity? Students of the Dao should reflect on this carefully. I respectfully write these words and pass them on to Liu Ziyuan.

The Elder of the Jade Toad (Yuchan Weng) had cut off all contact with the world and lived in seclusion at the summit of Mount Ge. Someone asked him, "What is the purpose of living in seclusion in the mountains? What joy is there in it?"

Yuchan Weng said, "One who is truly good at seclusion does not know what joy there is in living hidden in the mountains. If the mind is always dwelling on the joys of seclusion, why must one be like the bird that insists on choosing its tree, or the fish that insists on choosing its water? The joy of the mountain dweller lies not in the mountain itself but in the mind. Because the mind is joyful, the mountain seems joyful; when the mind and its surroundings become one, one no longer cares whether one is secluded in the mountains at all. To face outer circumstances without being moved by them, and to face one's own mind without clinging to it: this is the joy enjoyed by those who are good at seclusion."

The questioner asked again, "That is indeed the purpose of mountain seclusion. But surely a hermit in the mountains must know the flavor of mountain life?"

Yuchan Weng replied, "The flavor of the mountains is just the joy of the mountains. The hermit understands the flavor of the Dao (the Way) but does not cling to the flavor of the mountains. Let me tell you what I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."

He continued, "The hermit does not let the joys of the mountains sway the mind, nor does the hermit, for the sake of inner joy, grow attached to any particular mountain. The mountain is the mountain, and the mind is the mind. Hermits do not constantly debate how the ancients were or how people are today, or how this mountain compares with that one. What they value is the right person, the right moment, and the true spirit of seclusion. At such a time, sages gather; such people honor the Dao and De (Virtue); and such a spirit may well be the cultivation of body and mind. If one stops at this kind of knowledge and opinion, I fear that eight or nine times out of ten one will fall short of the ancients.

"The mountain of seclusion need not be one thick with forests and rolling in endless ridges. Even without woods and peaks, it can be the mountain within the hermit's mind. A realm of clear emptiness, stillness, loftiness, and depth is the 'mountain' in some people's hearts, while right and wrong, honor and disgrace, wealth and poverty, nobility and lowliness are the 'bustling market' in the hearts of others. When people today say, 'The great hermit hides in the city; the lesser hermit hides in the wilds,' they are not entirely wrong. When the habits of seeking fame and profit run too strong and the desire for things never ceases to stir, people tire of the clamor and long for quiet. But when thoughts of comfort and ease grow too heavy and the drive to advance in the Dao grows cold, they come to find quiet tiresome and long to return to the crowds.

"If one can stand firm on one's own mind, then even in a remote garden the mind can be at ease, and even in a noisy marketplace the mind can be at ease. There is no need to flee the turmoil in the heart, nor to chase one's wishes blindly; no need to cling to beautiful surroundings, nor to loathe unwelcome ones. To understand the principle of the mountain and to abide in one's own mind: this is what is truly called seclusion. If you wish to live in seclusion in the mountains, first learn to hide the mind. When there is nothing to do, nourish the mind, and that is seclusion; when there is something to attend to, respond to what surrounds you, and it is as if you were in the mountains. The mind does not cling to the mountain, and the mind does not make an obsession of the mountain.

"Therefore, one should first know the Dao, and only then retreat to the mountains. If you move into the mountains before you understand the Dao, the sight of the scenery may make you forget the Dao. If you understand the Dao first and then dwell in the mountains, then once you have entered the realm of the Dao you will forget the mountains. Forgetting the attachment to the mountain, you can see the Dao and your spirit is at peace; forgetting the Dao, you will have your eyes veiled by the outward form of the mountain. Thus, one who forgets the mountain and sees the Dao finds quiet even among people, while one who sees the mountain and forgets the Dao remains restless in the heart even while living in the mountains. All things can be merged into one, and every mind can be made empty and still, so where is it written that cities must be noisy and mountains and marshes must be quiet? One who dwells in a quiet mountain with a restless mind is worse off than one in the marketplace; one who dwells in a busy city with a mind ever still is better off than one in the mountains. If you are in the clamor yet unaffected by it, why cling to so-called quiet? Speech and silence, movement and stillness can all be the mountain, and all can be the marketplace. As long as the mind is tranquil and undisturbed, you are like a fish swimming in deep waters or a bird soaring in the sky, each finding its place and content in its own joy.

"This joy does not depend on the pleasures of eye and ear, nor on emotions and discriminating thought. It lies within the mind and is hard to explain by outward appearance or by knowledge and opinion. The hermit's joy comes from within and has nothing to do with the mountain itself. Hermits take purity and stillness as their place of practice, and plainness and yielding as their discipline; they take contentment as their companion, unwilling to mingle with the world or be burdened by external things.

"In cultivating themselves, they do not deliberately seek bodily pleasure; in caring for the body, they do not crave rich flavors. They regard death as one season within life, and regard what they possess as though they had nothing, yet they can still make use of it. When sitting in meditation, they are among cloud-filled streams and misty mountain vapors; when practicing walking meditation (slow, mindful walking), they pass through moonlit caves and wind-swept forests. Deer are their friends and pines and bamboo their neighbors. In spring there are chives, in autumn wild artemisia, and the morning glow and evening dew are treasures too. Their clothing is woven of grass, stitched together from cattail, thatch, and orchid leaves; their food is gathered from the wild hills, with clear spring water to drink and the mountain's own produce to eat. They walk before withered trees and sit beneath ancient rocks, dwell in deep forests and hidden valleys, and lie down between pines and quiet stones. By day they call out in long whistles amid the hidden depths of springs and mist; by night they sleep alone deep within the haze.

"They meet cold and heat with the Dao within the heart. With the mind fixed on the Dao, they do not feel the summer's heat; with the mind at rest in the Dao, they are not shaken by winter's cold. Even when frost and ice pierce to the bone, they do not change the integrity of the pine and the parasol tree; even when wind and snow freeze the body, they do not alter their steadfastness, which is like that of mountain rock. Under the blazing midsummer sun, which makes others sweat, no irritation arises in their hearts; the heat outside cannot disturb what is within. They wander freely through the valleys and live broad-mindedly among people, their bodies at ease and their hearts at peace.

"I fear that the sights and sounds of the marketplace trap people in worldly toil: the five colors dazzle the eyes, the five tones confuse the ears, and the five desires stir the heart. Once external things enter the mind, they shake it day and night; if the mind has nothing to hold to, affairs will seize its resolve and leave it driven about by outer things. Yet the mountains and wilds can disturb a person just as the marketplace does: idle flowers and wild grasses can bewilder the eyes, and secluded birds and bright finches can unsettle the ears. If one does not first settle one's own mind and only wishes to retreat into the mountains, how can one achieve true seclusion?

"The intention of the sages and worthies of antiquity in living in the mountains was just this, yet how they actually practiced seclusion went beyond merely residing in the mountains. The world chases profit, its customs are sunk in desire, people are intoxicated with fame and gain and trapped in dreams of mutual distinctions; life and death are right before them and they do not realize it, and they invite misfortune and seek blessing without noticing. These are exactly the things the sages worry about. Thus what the sages worry about is not their own inner sorrow but the multitudes; what the sages hide in is not the mountains but the settled mind. The sages see the bodies of living beings as no more than straw ritual dummies, and see their inborn nature as precious as gold and jade. They not only leave behind the physical form of the dusty world but also nourish their nature in the mountains. Only the sages understand this.

"Do you wish to hear about the flavor and purpose of the mountains? The mountain has its nature, and people have theirs. A person need not live in the mountains to be in seclusion, and the mountain need not wait for someone to dwell there in order to exist. If one lives in the mountains without any restless thoughts arising, then a thatched hut, a bamboo cottage, a grass mat, and a pine-fueled stove will not feel cold; and lush forests, slender bamboo, cool breezes, and chilly springs are not merely for escaping the summer heat. The hermit laughs freely amid mist and rosy clouds and sleeps peacefully amid wind and rain, enjoying pleasures that ordinary people cannot enjoy and gaining a freedom that ordinary people can hardly attain. Leaves can serve as writing paper, and flowers and grasses are for admiring; wind in the pines sounds like a zither, and rain on the rocks has the charm of wine. Calming the spirit is like seated meditation, and tempering the heart takes place within daily conduct. They regard tigers and wolves as household piglets and call out to bears and rhinoceroses as servants; in loneliness they are like a cold gibbon crying in the night, and in leisure they are like white clouds flying at dusk. Their will is bound neither by court nor by countryside, nor trapped by their station in life.

"Only practice in this way can be called seclusion, and only seclusion in this way can be called the mountain. A mountain such as this is not what the world calls a mountain, and a person such as this is not what the world calls a person. Person and mountain transform together and are forgotten together. What is called person is mind, and what is called mountain is also mind. When one reaches the state in which the mind no longer distinguishes which is mountain and which is person, that is a state that can be known but not through discriminating thought, and seen but not grasped through the eyes. The wonder of purity, harmony, and stillness is neither mountain nor person. It is like the moon reflected in water, like the wind passing through bamboo, and hard to explain in words."

The guest said, "I am willing to do as you say, and from now on I will follow you in practice."

Yuchan Weng asked, "Who are you?"

The guest answered, "I am Ziyuanzi."

Old Man Yuchan (a Daoist figure, here the narrator of the text) roamed contentedly amid tranquil mountains and waters. In the morning he fed on crimson mist, and in the evening on purple haze. Body and mind at peace, as if lost in a drunken dream, he was unaware of the changing seasons, of heat and cold, or of the passing of sun and moon. Suddenly the sky darkened. Cold winds swept through the bamboo grotto, black clouds veiled the light, and a fine rain washed away the dust. The mountains grew dim, dusk thickened along the water's edge, birds flew home, and fish sank out of sight. Before long the clouds scattered and the sky cleared, and the air turned mild and pleasant, at once like spring and touched with the coolness of autumn.

From the south of the azure sky, colored clouds drifted in, and within them appeared a figure. He wore the cap of carefree naturalness, shoes that accorded with truth, and a robe of emptiness and clear stillness, and he took the joy of meditation and the delight of the Dharma as his food. His form could not be seen even by ten pairs of eyes; his voice could not be heard even by keen ears in all four directions. Neither Mount Sumeru nor Mount Lu was higher than he, and not even the boundless ocean of wisdom was vaster than his mind. When he walked he was like white clouds and flowing water; in silence or in speech he was like green bamboo and yellow blossoms.

The figure said: "I am the True Person of No Rank. Do you know me? The World-Honored One (the Buddha) and the humblest ant dwell together within one body, and the Tushita Heaven and the Iron Ring Mountains lie within one realm. You may resign your post of listening and observing, and be relieved of your duty of patrolling. From now on, in a place beyond the distinctions of Yin-Yang, keep company only with your own shadow." Old Man Yuchan agreed. He gathered in his thoughts until his mind lay still as a crouching dog and his body was like withered wood, and so he met the True Person. When they met, it seemed they had known each other before, and yet also that they had never truly been acquainted.

The True Person and the Old Man took in hand the staff that symbolizes the emptiness of all thoughts and raised the canopy that stands for vast and wondrous function. Walking and resting by turns, they lost count of the days and nights and traveled more than a hundred and eight thousand li. They passed in turn the Mountain of the Five Aggregates and the Sea of the Six Desires, left the land of ignorance, and emerged from the realm of craving. Suddenly they arrived at a place, and the True Person said: "This is the Land of Constant Stillness and Light, of Great Wisdom and Bright Heaven. It belongs to Precept Prefecture, Dhyana County, the Village of Nowhere, and Nirvana Hamlet. The True Person is the sovereign of this land."

Where the True Person dwelled there stood the Hall of Empty Mind, the Tower of Liberation, the Pavilion of True Suchness, the Terrace of Quiescence, the Palace of Perfect Enlightenment, and the Hall of True Contemplation. The ground of this land had no mud or dust, and the sky had no division between dark and bright. Rulers and ministers, fathers and sons, sages and ordinary people, and all sentient beings here had the same appearance, and none had a surname or a given name. The land was adorned with a beauty beyond description, and the goods to be enjoyed there were inexhaustible.

The True Person drove a chariot of the five illuminations and a carriage of the seven treasures. He opened the treasury of light within the void and raised the banner of firm and unhindered spiritual power. He led Old Man Yuchan to tour the Cave of Profound Mystery beneath the Peak of Knowing and Seeing, the River of Compassionate Patience, and the Grove of Merit. They also passed through the Bodhi Garden, the Plot of Formlessness, and the Park of the Eight Returns, then roamed the Samadhi Forest and crossed the Mountain of the Four Truths. When the True Person wished to return, he took the boat of Prajna across the Sea of Equality, and in the snap of a finger they went and came back without hindrance.

The True Person of Boundlessness invited Old Man Yuchan to sit in the Pavilion of Purity. He opened the windows and doors of the six supernormal powers and adorned the courtyard of the ten thousand transformations. He burned incense of the five-part Dharma body, offered a vegetarian meal of six flavors, presented tea of the eight freedoms, and poured water of the eight merits. He then brought out the pearl of the five eyes, displayed the seal of the One Truth, and lit candles representing the practices of action, cessation, release, and extinction, along with the lamp of seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing. In a moment, the True Person suddenly vanished. Old Man Yuchan looked back for him, but no trace remained.

Astonished, and yet enlightened, Old Man Yuchan told the celestial beings: "That True Person has the same form as I, and our aspirations are alike. I am neither asleep and dreaming nor drunk with wine. Should I abandon my true self and cling to what is illusory?" He gave a long sigh and said: "I am the True Person, and the True Person is I. I shall depart now!" He then ordered Master Guancheng, the Envoy of Ink-Pine, Tao Hong, Bai Qi, and others to take up their brushes and record his words, and Ziyuanzi wrote them down.

In this text, the experience of cultivation is written as a journey. The Five Aggregates, the Six Desires, ignorance, and craving symbolize the bonds of body and mind, while the Land of Constant Stillness and Light depicts a state that transcends distinctions and is pure and complete. The text also borrows Buddhist terminology to express this state of cultivation.

Those who cultivate the Dao must refine the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the term used in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) and Waidan (external alchemy) practice for nourishing Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) and forming them into an elixir.

The body withers like dead wood and the heart lies still as cold ashes; if one wishes to ascend to the Jade Palace (the palaces of the immortal realm), one must refine the Golden Elixir. The Qian horse and the Kun ox (hexagram images standing for Yin-Yang) guard the Chamber of Spirit (the inner place where the elixir is nourished); the Kan crow and the Li hare (hexagram images standing for water and fire, and for Yin-Yang) lead the Maiden (a Neidan term, often referring to the yin side) to the True Altar (the place of cultivation).

The Crimson Gate Scattered Gentleman and the Pure Court Idle Scholar (titles from the original, referring to practitioners of the Dao) cause the Green Dragon of Fusang (symbol of the east and of Wood Qi) to spread its wings and spit fire, and the White Tiger of Mount Hua (symbol of the west and of Metal Qi) to bare its fangs and enter the water. The Heavenly Furnace and Earthly Cauldron (metaphors for heaven and earth, or for the furnace and cauldron within the body) are the key to the circulation of the Three Passes (the critical junctures in cultivation); the moon's soul and the sun's spirit (the sun and moon as metaphors for Yin-Yang essence and Qi) are a handful of the essence of Yin-Yang.

Within lead earth lies hidden, and from mercury metal is born; the turtle stands for the Zi position, the snake for the Wu position; the hare corresponds to Mao, the rooster to You. The Four Images and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) cannot do without Wu earth, and the Three Origins and the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) must rely on Ren water. Morning corresponds to the Zhun hexagram and evening to the Meng hexagram; each of the six lines carries its own symbolism. Night corresponds to the Fu hexagram and day to the Gou hexagram. Though the myriad things have no intention, the three natures still converge here and gather in the Primordial Palace (the place where original Qi collects); the Yin and Yang Qi rise and fall, coming and going, and move along the Yellow Path (here, the course along which Yin-Yang travels).

Only a single ingredient, quicksilver, can be transformed into black jade; only after the seven returns of cinnabar (a Neidan term for the repeated refining of cinnabar and similar substances) is the red precious pearl completed. The immortal fruits (the tangerine, the jade-like fruit, the pomegranate, the paired pear, the fire jujube), the white snow spread across the sky, the clear breeze fluttering through the Purple Mansion (the dwelling of immortals), the yellow flowers reflected in the courtyard, and the auspicious herbs in the Dantian (energy center) are all signs of cultivation achieved.

I know where to draw out and where to add, and where to gather the medicine; I also know where the gates of life and death lie, and when waxing and waning take place. Sinking and floating are the basis for telling the clear from the turbid, and the intervals of brightness and darkness are the basis for judging movement and stillness. Nurture upright Qi and hold fast to oneness; maintain fullness while resting in softness. Few in the world understand these principles, and many sit in stillness all day without knowing where they are headed.

Favor may turn into misfortune, and misfortune into favor; the positions of the Fang and Mao lunar mansions shift. Within the host there is a guest, and within the guest a host; the degrees of the Dipper revolve back to the Winnowing Basket. Someone once said that the great Dao cannot be put into words, and that Neidan is not some particular technique. The Mysterious Pearl (a symbol of the profound Dao) takes on form, and within yin lies the virtue of yang; when an infant forms in the womb, within the male there is also the nature of the female. Between ruler and minister there are priority and gain and loss, and beyond the relation of husband and wife there are survival and demise, good fortune and ill. The heart at Ding, the Zhang at Gui, the Nü at the Jia palace, the Bi at the Geng palace: all of these use the Heavenly Stems, lunar mansions, and directions to explain the correspondences within cultivation.

Although punishment and virtue, birth and flourishing have their rises and falls, their obstructions and flows, bathing and concealment are not fixed either. As for the measure of the medicinal ingredients, one must bring the Qi of east, west, south, and north back to the center; as for the fire phases and the furnace and cauldron, one must unite the numbers two, eight, nine, and three into one. In this way the Crow Pole river cart (a Neidan term for the method of circulating Jing and Qi) can travel upward within a hundred quarter-hours, and the Flower Pool's divine water (symbolizing the saliva in the mouth or the essence within the body) can flow backward through all four seasons.

The cold and warmth of the nutritive and defensive Qi correspond to such lunar mansions as Chunhuo and Guijing, while the flourishing and decline of spirit correspond to such mansions as Xuanxiao and Douniu. Mother and child cover one another, and body and mind transform together; brothers live in harmony, and both blessing and wisdom are nurtured. The changes of the six lines reveal the dark, new, full, and half moon (the phases of the moon); the solstices of winter and summer alter the measure of the seasons and also bear on such troubles as locust plagues, floods, and droughts.

The Perfected One takes the universe as their body, and their wondrous function flows freely like a stream; mountains and rivers seem to lie within their grasp, and the armies on the left and right are each given their deployment. Since ancient times there have been men of benevolence and righteousness, and those who have hidden themselves in great places or small. Now the wind of the Gong and Jiao notes blows gently, the moonlight is lovely, and with a lone cloud and a wild crane for company, the practitioner lets out a long cry and writes this book to leave to later students of the Dao.

"Raven and Hare" refer to the sun and moon, and "Qian and Kun" refer to heaven and earth. The "cauldron" and the "altar" are both symbols of internal alchemy (Neidan). Sun, moon, heaven, and earth form the furnace and cauldron within the heart; when the tortoise and snake join and Yin-Yang (阴阳) meet, that is the altar of cultivation. A person unburdened by worldly affairs will find the "Great Returned Elixir" they seek within their own heart.

The White Tiger roars in the water, and the Azure Dragon coils within the fire. Medicinal substances such as mercury and lead shine within the Niwan Palace (the cultivation site inside the head), and when Metal and Wood unite, they are as cold and clear as snowflakes. Li and Kan do not refer to the heart and kidneys. Rather, the text reminds later students that these expressions carry other, symbolic meanings in Neidan practice.

"Raven and Hare, the Qian-Kun cauldron; tortoise and snake, the altar of Gou and Fu; a man at leisure in the world, the Great Returned Elixir within the heart." The sun, moon, heaven, earth, and the joining of tortoise and snake are all metaphors for the transformations of Yin-Yang within the body. The true "Great Returned Elixir" is not an external object but lies in one's own heart.

The White Tiger roars in the water, and the Azure Dragon coils within the fire. Mercury, lead, and other medicinal substances shine within the Niwan Palace, and when Metal and Wood unite, they are as cold and clear as snowflakes. Li and Kan are not the heart and kidneys, and east and west are not the lungs and liver. These directions and organ names are symbols borrowed by Neidan to explain the movement of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The line "Three lines exhaust the seven returns; nine turnings emerge from Niwan" means that, after repeated refining and nurturing, the fruit of cultivation finally appears in the Niwan Palace.

Have you not seen it?

A single grain of Golden Elixir, bright and crimson, as large as a pellet and the color of a tangerine. Everyone is originally endowed with this foundation of wholeness, and each night its spiritual light fills the "Chamber of Shen" (in Neidan, the place where the heart-spirit dwells).

The Chamber of Shen (神, Spirit) is this spirit terrace, the place of clarity within the heart, where the "embryo" of immortality is nurtured. The Primal Lord called it the "Reclining Moon Furnace" (a crescent-shaped alchemical furnace), and the medicines within it correspond to star formations such as the "Three Terraces."

At first there is one father and one mother facing each other, and later they transform into three sons and three daughters. The Zhun hexagram is taken in the morning and the Meng hexagram in the evening, matched as ruler and minister. At the Gou hexagram, Yin and Yang meet, and by the Fu hexagram at night, guest and host are distinguished. These hexagram names and human relationships all describe the alternation of Yin-Yang and the sequence of cultivation.

The Azure-Robed Maiden (a medicinal substance symbolizing the Yin side) rides the Azure Dragon, and also commands the White Tiger and the Golden Elder (a substance symbolizing the other side). The Three Flowers (the fruits of cultivation in Neidan, such as Jing, Qi, and Shen: essence, vital energy, and spirit) shine brilliantly in the Shenxiao Palace, while a pair of cranes linger beside the Taiyi Palace.

In the end, all these transformations involve the Five Phases of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, and also bear on the birth, aging, sickness, and death of human life, with its many sorrows. So long as the Five Constants of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness are upright, the Five Tones of gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu will naturally be in harmony.

From the hour of Zi to the hour of Si, the correspondences are Zhen, Dui, and Qian. From the hour of Wu to the hour of Hai, they are Xun, Gen, and Kun. Kan and Li are where Yin and Yang meet, while Mao and You are the gateways through which Yin and Yang enter and exit.

The four lunar lodges Fang, Xu, Xu (勖), and Xing correspond to the four seasons, and the spring equinox, autumn equinox, summer solstice, and winter solstice each have their own opening and closing. If one traces back to the time before chaos divided, one will find that these transformations of creation were simply so from the beginning. But if one treats them as fixed entities and tries to investigate them as such, it is like treating creation as child's play.

Who would have thought that the Golden Liquid Great Returned Elixir (jinye dahuan dan, the "Great Elixir" spoken of in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy, cultivation) lies within ordinary daily life? Let me now state the essential method of alchemy plainly: it is found neither in the bustling city nor in the quiet mountains, but within the body and mind of the person.

The elixir's head (dantou, the root of internal alchemy) was formed before birth. It is pure, mysterious, and bright, as clear and lustrous as jade. It does not lie outside the body, so it is not an external substance such as cinnabar or glass; nor does it lie within the body's essence and blood.

What is called fire and medicine were originally in the same place. Look closely and they seem visible; search in earnest and they leave no trace. The practitioner should remain still and single-minded all day long, appearing simple and unknowing, and in the end will refine a "wish-fulfilling pearl" to be used at will.

The true gold refined in the great furnace never changes color; it is merely covered by dust and so cannot be seen. Having passed through countless cycles of birth and death, people must cultivate now in order to recover this unchanging true nature.

It is like gold contained in water: one need only seek it with a focused mind in the "Flower Pool" (huachi, a Neidan term for the place of cultivation within body and mind). Gold and water each have their measure; one floats upward while the other sinks.

Gather the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) together and match them to the timing represented by stem-and-branch markers such as "Geng" and "Jia"; then bring the Four Images and the Five Phases into harmony with one another. At midnight the Golden Crow (a divine bird symbolizing Yang qi) enters the Vast Cold Palace (the moon palace, symbolizing Yin qi); some appear white as cream, others golden yellow as wax.

The essence of metal and the liquid of wood are both originally empty and formless. When they first arise, they must be gathered and refined in time; once they age, they wither. If the fire is too strong, moderate it a little by the principle of Kun fire; if it is too cold, stir and nurture it with the principle of Xun wind.

Cultivation requires judging the proper measure between stillness and movement: in stillness there is contemplation, and in movement there is application. "Wind blowing through willows" is true lead, and "rain washing peach blossoms" is true mercury. These are Neidan terms that borrow natural scenes to illustrate the Yin-Yang transformations and the medicines in cultivation.

As the Three Passes (sanguan, the bodily gateways spoken of in cultivation) turn, the Purple River Chariot (ziheche, a Neidan term for the path or process by which essence and qi circulate) flows along with them; in the Nine Cauldrons (jiuding, vessels symbolizing alchemical refining, also used as a metaphor for cultivation within the body), the golden sand shines brilliantly. In the Purple Palace (zifu, the spirit-residence within the body in Daoist thought), the tortoise swallows white snow, and in the Dantian (energy center), the vermilion phoenix pecks at yellow sprouts. These are all names of divine creatures and medicines used to describe the transformations of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) within the body.

The tides of the sea beneath the earth respond to the moon in the sky, just as the peach blossom symbolizes true mercury. With the Three Passes turning and the Nine Cauldrons radiant, the tortoise in the Purple Palace swallowing white snow and the vermilion phoenix in the Dantian pecking yellow sprouts, the practitioner uses these images to sense the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang, like the moon's waxing and waning. To grasp the timing of increase and decrease, advance and retreat is to grasp the root of creation and transformation in the void.

One must also discern whether the source of the water is clear or turbid, and understand the subtle interplay of generation and restraint within it. If one can grasp the key to nature's transformations, one can accomplish the work of creation: within a year there are fitting months, and within a day there are corresponding hours.

When the work of refinement has coalesced into a single whole, I ask: does anyone in the world truly understand its principle? It neither increases nor decreases, so how could one speak of drawing off or adding? It has no coming or going, so where could there be advance or retreat?

Fullness and waning, decline and flourishing each have their season. When the two Qi (气) of punishment and virtue arrive at the gate, there are likewise shifting patterns of Yin-Yang (阴阳), odd and even. As the elixir nears completion, one must "bathe" (temporarily regulating the breath and drawing in the fire phase so the cultivation settles into steadiness). Defending a city and fighting in open country are metaphors drawn from the refinement process, reminding the practitioner to guard at all times against deviation and danger.

Nurturing the "infant" (a metaphor in Neidan (内丹), internal alchemy, for the elixir) depends entirely on the "mother" (the fundamental power that warms and nourishes it). "Seven returns and nine restorations" is a Neidan term, and one must understand the governing principle and rhythm within it. One line is firm, another yielding; one phase of the fire is gentle, another fierce. In a mere moment, results may seem to be produced, yet only after a full year of firing can the "embryonic infant" (the initial coalescing state of the internal elixir) begin to form.

"Nine reversals and nine turnings" describes a cultivation process of nine backward and circling movements, while "nine cities and fighting in the open field" uses defending a city and engaging in battle as metaphors for how different stages of cultivation are applied. Both demand caution against danger. Nurturing the infant relies wholly on the mother's strength, and the seven returns and nine restorations require discerning the governing principle. Firm and yielding alternate, as do the gentle and fierce phases of the fire. In an instant it seems the work can be accomplished, yet in truth a full year of firing is still needed before the embryonic infant forms. These nine reversing turns are called the "Nine Transformations"; during them, it is as if thunder were shaking, so that even ghosts and spirits are startled.

The work of refining the elixir takes about ten months, gathering and refining step by step so that the elixir gradually congeals; only after three years and then nine years is it considered mature. Once mature, it generates life without end, its descendants numbering in the hundreds of billions. This uses endless propagation to describe the continuity of the elixir's work.

In earlier days I read the Longhu Jing (龙虎经, Dragon and Tiger Classic), and the principle of the transformations of dragon and tiger was truly hard to grasp. I sought out and read through the Songs and Poems, the Treatise on the Tally, and other such works, yet in the end I never mastered the art of the Golden Elixir (金丹).

In the spring of the dingchou year of the Jiading era (1217), in the third month, a Daoist with tousled hair handed me a scroll, in which every character recorded an oral formula of the Golden Elixir. After he left, he could not be found again, and no one knew what traces he had left around the North Sea and Cangwu. I sketched his likeness and asked people to identify it, and they said it was Old Baichan, Bai Yuchan (白玉蟾, a Daoist figure).

Alas, those in the world who study immortality cling to outward forms and literal words, mistaking the false for the real. How could they know that there is something that always accompanies the self; it is round yet bears the image of a perilous pit, and appears vividly red and bright? "Round, perilous and sunken, vividly red and clear" is a Neidan term describing the form and state of the elixir body during cultivation.

Having received the oral formula, I returned and tried the practice, and the transformations, like dragons and tigers contending, arose in the blink of an eye. The people of Jiuhua Heaven also know of these transformations; in a single night wind and thunder rose and shook the mountains.

My family has long lived beside the Luo River, where bright moon and clear breeze are inexhaustible to take. Casually I have written down this Song of the Great Dao (大道歌), hoping to offer the world a model.

Practicing the alchemical methods (danfa) does not mean that one will become an immortal simply by undertaking them. For now, the aim is first to make the body strong and sound and to extend one's lifespan; as for whether one will have the fortuitous chance to ascend and become an immortal, that is even harder to foresee, like a white crane flying far off into the blue sky.