《周易参同契发挥(原题俞琰)》Vol. 2

What this practice—perhaps the character should be read as “refining,” referring to alchemical cultivation—requires is the appropriation of Qi from Heaven and Earth: the Qi of the sacred Father and numinous Mother, represented by the sun and moon. Our own Qi is the parental Qi carried in our bones and blood. We must therefore use the true parental Qi between Heaven and Earth to transform the body born of our parents, making it a pure-Yang perfected immortal who can live as long as Heaven and Earth.

Some people are benighted and do not understand that they must seek what is of the same kind. Though they themselves are already connected with Heaven and Earth, they insist on looking outside themselves for what they call “the same kind,” falsely claiming that virgin boys and girls are true lead. They even invoke the legends of the Yellow Emperor and the Mysterious Maiden and Plain Maiden to dress up heretical doctrines and pander to the desires of the literati and officials. Wealthy and powerful men then seek sexual intercourse and replenishment, and people often die as a result. The victims were not limited to Xiahou Zi, the Tang dynasty chancellor.

In the Baopuzi, Ge Zhichuan likens this practice to holding hot soup in a cup of water or wrapping fire in feathers. In the Zhengao, Tao Hongjing compares it to clutching jade while jumping into a fire, or burying a dog in a golden coffin. Dongweizi calls it “the conduct of a dog in a storage jar,” while Li Yuxi calls it “the seed of hell.” Alchemical texts from every age condemn this conduct in the strongest terms: it harms others and ultimately harms the practitioner as well.

The Nanhua Zhenjing says, “Do not exhaust the body; do not stir the vital essence.” In this way, one may attain longevity. No one has ever heard of a method called “mastering women.” This is where the source of the harm began, and it continues to obstruct the Orthodox Way. Such claims slander the perfected beings of earlier times and mislead later students. Of all the heterodox arts, this is especially ruinous to the Daoist Way.

There are many learned people in the world, gifted and brilliant, who pride themselves on their exceptional abilities. Yet they never encounter a true master or the right opportunity. They waste their furnace fires and lose their money for nothing. Relying only on the surface meaning of written words, they cultivate however their own ideas take them. They have no clear direction and lose their sense of proportion. They process and calcine qiangshi, litharge, mica, and magnetite; roast sulfur; and refine clay and mercury together, hoping to make them ascend and transform. They also melt five kinds of stone into copper, using it as an aid and a pivot. These materials have different natures—how could they be brought together into a single substance? Try a thousand times, and you are bound to fail ten thousand. In seeking the true Dao, they only fall into confusion. Even if they count on luck, they will hardly succeed in the end. Only sages understand the principle.

Some people cultivate from youth until their hair has turned white, yet grow doubtful along the way. They turn from the right path but cling to their mistaken course, leaving the proper road for crooked paths. It is like peering through a tube: the view is narrow, the whole cannot be seen, and so it is difficult to discern the way ahead.

The Wuzhen pian says: Even if your intelligence and talent surpass those of Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, do not try to guess your way forward if you have not met a true teacher. Without the secret instructions transmitted in the alchemical scriptures, how could you know how to form the spirit embryo—the inner substance said to take shape through Neidan cultivation?

Many people in the world are learned and interested in cultivation, but few may truly meet an accomplished teacher and receive the authentic transmission. Some refine medicines supposedly made from “three yellows and four spirits,” mistakenly believing that the Great Dao lies in them. They do not understand that the five metals and eight minerals are all tangible substances of the world, each with its own kind and properties. How could they possibly fuse into one? As a result, many try again and again, only to fail repeatedly. They labor in vain, hoping to transform metals and stones. This is because they have found no reliable clue and have not mastered the methods of cultivation.

The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mysterious says: Seek teachers and consult friends to learn the art of refining the Elixir; carefully select cinnabar to make the Great Restoration Elixir. At first, one may think that Waidan can be transformed into an inner medicine, but later one understands that metals and stones have no direct connection to Neidan. The Golden Liquid Great Restoration Elixir spoken of by the immortals is a wondrous medicine that comes into being from nothing. Cinnabar and mercury are merely symbols borrowed to illustrate it. Yet people do not understand true lead and true mercury, terms in Neidan that represent Yin-Yang transformation and the elements of cultivation. They mistake cinnabar and mercury for materials to use in refining the Elixir, often wasting fuel and money and achieving nothing. They remain bewildered until their hair turns white, then lament that the Great Dao is empty.

Alas, the true principle is simple and not complicated. The most profound teachings sound plain and unremarkable—who is willing to believe them and put them into practice? Some even receive the authentic transmission but begin to doubt halfway through, leaving the right path for a mistaken one. The Secret Instructions for Communicating with the Mysterious through Inner Guidance says: Some people pride themselves on their cleverness and insist on arguing over right and wrong. Even when they hear the essentials of cultivation, they go against them. Such people turn away from the Great Dao and cling to delusion. They are like someone peering at the sky through a tube, with a narrow view. How could one discuss with them the boundless, mysterious truths that lie ahead?

Among the sages of antiquity, none was more revered than Fuxi. He first drew the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), taking his model from Heaven and Earth. King Wen of Zhou carried on Fuxi’s tradition, further developing the trigrams and writing the statements for the individual lines. Confucius was an outstanding figure among the many sages; he composed the Ten Wings, ten commentaries that explain the Zhouyi, to clarify the classic. These three were exceptional figures born of Heaven. They arose in succession, each responding to the needs of his time through his deeds. Though their works differed in rank and sequence, their achievements and virtue were fundamentally alike. Their writings inherited the traditions of those who came before, then developed and examined them, carefully judging their proper measure.

Fuxi modeled himself on Heaven and Earth and created the Yi, first drawing the Eight Trigrams (Bagua). In the Earlier Heaven arrangement, the Qian trigram represents Heaven and occupies the upper position; the Kun trigram represents Earth and occupies the lower position. The Li trigram represents the sun and the Kan trigram the moon, placed on the eastern and western sides respectively. The Zhen trigram represents thunder, Xun wind, Gen mountains, and Dui marshes; they are placed at the four corners. Could these arrangements really have formed without cause, out of nothing?

King Wen interpreted the Yi by working from the structure of its trigrams and hexagrams, and composed the line statements. In the Later Heaven arrangement, the Wood Qi of Zhen and Xun gives rise to Li Fire, which is then stored and held by Kun Earth. The Metal Qi of Dui and Qian gives rise to Kan Water, which is then checked by Gen Earth. This arrangement, too, must have followed some principle; it did not arise without reason.

Confucius carried forward the work of Fuxi and King Wen, expounded the Yi, and composed the Ten Wings, ten commentaries explaining the Yi. Though he held no imperial rank in his own time, he became a teacher to the emperors of later generations. He was indeed outstanding among the many sages. These three were all great sages of antiquity. Fuxi lived in the distant past, King Wen at the end of the Shang dynasty, and Confucius at the end of the Zhou dynasty. They arose in succession, each answering the needs of his age. Though their times and deeds differed, the principles to which the virtue and merit of earlier and later sages ultimately lead are one and the same.

The creation of the Eight Trigrams, the development of the line statements, and the composition of the Ten Wings contain no superfluous words or idle characters; their judgments about the relative weight of things are exceedingly thorough and careful. Each of these works followed an established principle. Now Lord Wei has written the Cantong qi, using the images of the Yi’s trigrams and hexagrams to explain his ideas. This, too, may be said to follow an established principle.

Things that have visible form are easy to assess; things without signs are difficult to plan for. In carrying out a task, one should make it a model that others can follow. That is why I have compiled this book for the world. I had no innate ability to foresee how things work; I came to understand them through my teacher’s guidance and instruction. Once I understood, everything became bright, as though a curtain had been lifted and I had climbed to a high platform and opened my eyes: all could be seen clearly.

Anything that has form or leaves signs can be inferred and planned. The Golden Elixir of Liquid Gold—a Daoist Neidan term for the elixir of immortality refined from liquid gold—is formless and traceless, and cannot be mastered through inference or planning. If it were not transmitted through words, how could later generations learn it? The Cantong qi was written for precisely this reason. Yet when the perfected master Wei Boyang wrote the Cantong qi, did he create it from his own ideas? He merely recorded what his master had taught him.

The Xisheng Jing says, “If you study the Dao without an enlightened teacher, how can you resolve your doubts?” Even when learning a worldly skill, one must respectfully seek instruction from a teacher to grasp its essentials. How much more, then, should those who seek the Golden Elixir of Liquid Gold—the path to longevity and transcendence—humbly search in the hope of meeting an enlightened teacher?

Ge Hong’s Shenxian zhuan records that Liu Zheng sought methods of nourishing life and diligently investigated accounts from many sources, traveling thousands of miles without hesitation. Whenever someone had something to teach him, he would make that person his teacher, even if they were a servant. If people today could follow Liu Zheng’s example and feel no shame in humbly asking for instruction, a true immortal would surely come to their door and reveal the secrets of refining the elixir. Once they received the oral instructions, their many doubts would fade away: it would be as if a curtain blocking their sight had been drawn aside and everything had become clear, or as if they had climbed a high terrace to gaze across a broad, level landscape, their minds and vision opening up in an instant. What could be more heartening than that?

Though the Huoji consists of six hundred chapters, they all point to the same essential meaning.

The Wuzhen pian says: “The discussions and poems in the Qi all speak of truth, yet they do not set out the firing times explicitly in writing. To understand the profound oral instructions, one must discuss them carefully with the immortals.”

Later students who have not grasped their true meaning often feel at a loss when they encounter the expression “the six hundred chapters of the Fire Record,” imagining that the firing times are complicated and difficult. In fact, the six hundred chapters are like the sixty hexagrams: the sixty hexagrams correspond to the seasonal periods of one month, while the six hundred chapters correspond to those of ten months. A month has sixty hexagrams, and each hexagram conveys the same principle; ten months have six hundred chapters, and each chapter likewise resembles the others. Thus, the principles to which the chapters point do not differ.

These matters are recorded in solemn language, yet people in the world have never considered them carefully. Tracing their origins, darkness and light have always depended on one another. How could I privately discuss them with worthy people and then dare to write them down carelessly? I fear that keeping silent would sever the transmission of the Dao and bring blame; yet I worry that setting my thoughts down on bamboo and silk would reveal Heaven’s secrets. Torn between these choices, I sigh again and again, looking up and down, and pondering constantly. Tao Leng (the specific meaning here is unclear) has its own rules. I cannot bear to lay everything out in full, so I offer only a brief outline, giving even the details something to rest upon.

From ancient times to the present, books on alchemy have piled up like mountains. Their titles and language are bewilderingly varied, and new metaphors appear one after another. This shows how seriously the people of old treated the subject. Yet, at its root, it is simply the changes of Yin and Yang. The two arise from a single source but bear different names. The immortals of antiquity devoted all their efforts to explaining these principles to the world. It was only that people in later times were short on blessings and had no time to reflect on them carefully.

The Perfected Wei Boyang, an alchemist of the Eastern Han dynasty traditionally regarded as the author of the Zhouyi Cantong Qi, wrote this book to explain the origins of the cauldron and vessels used in alchemy, the roots of the ingredients, the rules governing the firing process, and the secrets of being and nonbeing, host and guest, and before and after. Every sentence is penetrating and every word grounded in fact. The book was written for worthy people in the world; how could its author have written so carelessly, merely to win an empty reputation? Understand that a book is passed on only to those who can grasp it, and a matter is treasured only by those who recognize its worth. When a farmer receives a red bow, he uses it only to drive away crows; when the southern tribespeople receive a broad garment, they use it only to carry firewood. The Great Way of the Golden Elixir, the Daoist path of cultivation, is cherished only by the wise. What is there to say to those who do not truly understand it?

The Taishang Xuanke, a Daoist text on precepts and ritual regulations, says: “To meet a suitable person and fail to instruct them is to go against the Dao of Heaven. To pass it on indiscriminately to an unsuitable person is to divulge Heaven’s treasure. One who transmits it to a suitable person earns merit; one who recklessly transmits it to an unsuitable person brings punishment in the netherworld upon seven generations of ancestors.” Thus, if Master Wei remained silent, he feared he would be guilty of allowing the Dao’s transmission to die out. Yet if he wrote down what he knew, he feared he would reveal Heaven’s secrets and incur reproach.

He therefore hesitated and sighed, turning the matter over again and again. He wished to explain the principles plainly to those seeking to learn, but dared not casually disclose the true secrets. So he spoke only in general terms about the ingredients and the firing process, allowing later readers to grasp their meaning from the text and hoping thereby to keep the Dao’s transmission alive. He dared not make his words too explicit, yet could not bear to remain entirely silent. He therefore set out the main framework and selected the essential points, distributing the rules of cultivation among three chapters, like branches attached to a trunk.

Think of Metal as an embankment: once Water enters it, Water can flow with ease. Metal is counted as fifteen, and Water is counted the same way. When their weights are set before the furnace, the Water should be a little more than five fen. Metal and Water together are used to refine the true substance, while the weight of Metal must remain at its original amount. Earth no longer enters the furnace on its own, but moves together with Metal and Water. The three contain and support one another, and their transformations are wondrous beyond measure.

The phrase “With Metal as an embankment, Water enters and then flows freely” means that half a jin of Metal from the waxing phase of the moon—from new moon to full moon—is first used as the embankment of the outer furnace. Then half a jin of Water from the waning phase—from full moon to new moon—descends from the west and enters the inner furnace in the north. In this way, the Water’s force is not constrained, and it can flow freely.

“Metal is counted as fifteen” refers to the days from the first to the fifteenth, and means half a jin of Metal from the waxing phase. “Water is counted the same way” refers to the days from the sixteenth to the thirtieth, and means half a jin of Water from the waning phase. In the alchemical method, gentle Fire first makes it rise, then vigorous Fire makes it descend. Without understanding this, it is difficult to grasp the principle in depth. Hence the phrase, “Set the weights before the furnace; the Water should be more than five fen”: before the furnace, determine the weights of Metal and Water, with the Water slightly exceeding half a jin.

Metal and Water each make up half a jin, and together they weigh one jin: this is the union of the two Qi, Yin and Yang. They rise and descend in turn, moving back and forth without pause, symbolizing the true Yin and Yang within the body. The Water must be slightly more than half a jin, while the Metal must not fall below half a jin. Thus the text says, “The two together form the true substance; Metal’s weight remains as at the beginning.” This means that Metal and Water together make up the true alchemical material, while the weight of Metal must remain at its original amount.

“Earth therefore does not enter” means that around the cauldron and furnace, only half a jin of Metal from the waxing phase and half a jin of Water from the waning phase are visible; Earth has no fixed place. This does not mean that Earth plays no part. Rather, it has no fixed location and is everywhere. Just as none of the twenty-four directions of Heaven and Earth is assigned specifically to Wu and Ji, this does not mean that Wu and Ji are absent. They circulate through directions such as Renzi and Qianhai, moving up and down; wherever they go, Wu and Ji may be said to be present. “The two move together with it” means that Earth is present throughout the cauldron and furnace, and that Metal and Water move together with Earth.

When Metal and Water move together with Earth, the three contain one another and merge into one. After merging, they seem able to bind the vast clouds among the green mountains and draw a full moon from a deep blue pool; their transformations are endlessly wondrous. The Treatise on the Way of Ultimate Truth says, “Rising and descending are called Metal and Water; their movement in time is the true wind of Xun.” Rising is Metal, descending is Water, and Earth is what sets them in motion as they rise and descend.

Yet Metal, Water, and Earth are ultimately only symbols borrowed to explain the principle. At its root, the Great Dao transcends names and forms, and the true way of the immortals has no concrete flowers or plants to speak of. Where, then, are Metal and Water truly to be found? And where is Earth?

Beneath the body lies “solar Qi”—in Neidan, the nascent Yang Qi—which must lie hidden and then become active within a brief moment. At first it takes liquid form; afterward it condenses into shape. This process is called “Yellow Rising.”

The Book of Jade Zhi says: “In refining the elixir, kindle the fire in accord with the Yang Qi of the zi hour”—midnight, when Yang Qi first arises. Only then is the fire strong enough; if it is kindled at another hour, the firing process will differ. At the zi hour, the sun is in the north, and the Qi in the body has also reached the Tail Gate, the lower end of the spine and a crucial passage for Qi in Neidan practice. Kindling the fire at this time brings the body’s Qi into accord with the movements of Heaven and Earth. Only then can their transformations be used to refine the elixir.

At first, solar Qi lies below. Water and fire join, and the two Qi of Yin and Yang bind closely together, condensing into liquid. Next, fire arises within water, and Yang Qi gradually grows stronger. The liquid condenses in turn, bringing forth “Golden Florescence,” a Neidan term for the essence that appears through refinement. This is called “True Lead,” the key ingredient used in elixir refinement. When the firing process is used to raise it, its force surges upward, as though a carriage were traveling along the Yellow Road; hence the name “Yellow Rising.”

At the end of the year, going against the natural course of things harms life and shortens one’s years.

On the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month, the celestial bodies complete a full circuit: the sun reaches the end of its round, and the moon completes its cycle. In the Dao of Neidan, the human body likewise has its own circuit of Heaven—a complete cycle of Qi’s movement—which is no different from the movements of Heaven and Earth.

The physical form turns to dust, like luminous particles.

An ancient verse says, “Lead must be used, yet not directly: what is needed must first be obtained from within the lead. When the time comes to use true lead, using the lead itself is a mistake.” It also says, “Lead is the mother of the sprout, and the sprout is the offspring of lead. Once you have obtained the Golden Flower—the refined vital energy in alchemical language—you no longer gather lead.” The meaning is profound.

People know only that at the Zi hour, around midnight, Kidney Qi begins to stir. They think that, after being refined by the firing process, it condenses into liquid, and they mistake this liquid for true lead, hoping to use it to transform the true mercury in the Palace of Li—the trigram direction associated with the dwelling place of the heart-mind. But once it has condensed into liquid, it already has form and substance. Heavy and turbid, how could it possibly flow upward against gravity?

When immortals refine the Elixir, they kindle a fire below at this very moment to arouse that Qi. As the fire grows strong, the Qi rises upward, clear and light, like clouds forming over mountains and rivers. Once it reaches the Muddy Pellet, the upper Dantian in the head, it becomes sweet rain and descends into the Towering Chamber, the throat. Alchemists have never used the liquid’s physical substance. This is precisely what alchemical teachings mean by “taking the clear and discarding the turbid”: the clear Qi floats lightly above, “shaped like bright dust,” while the turbid matter settles below, “formed like ash and earth.” Those who practice Waidan take the substance that flies up and congeals on the lid of the crucible and call it “bright dust.” Master Wei used this to explain the principles of Neidan, hoping that those who study the Dao would infer the rest from it.

After pounding, processing, and combining it, make it enter swiftly through the Vermilion Gate.

Seize the substances of the elixir from both places and bring them together in a single furnace to refine them, causing a stream of divine water to congeal into true cream. They swiftly enter the “Red Gate” (a symbol of the crucial aperture in alchemical refinement), where they seize the essence and marrow of the Rabbit and Crow, then hasten to place them in the cauldron and refine them by fire.

The great medicine of the Golden Elixir arises in the Kun position (symbolizing Yin and Earth) and is sown in the Qian position (symbolizing Yang and Heaven). Qian is above and serves as the cauldron; Kun is below and serves as the furnace. Without fierce cooking and repeated forging, the medicine cannot be refined out of the furnace; without reversing its course, it cannot rise into the cauldron. The Wuzhen Pian says, “Seize it with both hands and make it still; transform it into a single piece of purple-gold frost.” It also says, “The River Chariot must not pause for even a moment; carry it up to the summit of Kunlun.” These lines describe the practice undertaken after the medicine has been refined, which differs from the process through which the prenatal medicine first comes into being. Two other methods are also involved: “contemplating the mind” and “drawing in the spirit.” Both can help strengthen the firing process. The immortals of old often kept these secrets hidden; who could know them? Some people cling to descriptions of the practical work and resort to massage, breathing exercises, and moving the limbs, wasting their energy to no purpose. How could they understand the subtle use of illuminating the true mind with spirit-fire and stirring the Wind of Xun (a symbol of wind and the movement of Qi) to draw in the true spirit?

Seal the place where the substances of the elixir are brought together, making sure it is whole and firm.

The Jindan Dacheng Ji says, “When you understand the right moment, begin the work and gather the medicine; then seal the divine chamber (the alchemical furnace and cauldron, or the place within the body where cultivation takes place), and do not let it leak.” It also says, “Carry it up to the crown of the head, where the Three Flowers form; firmly close the Jade Pass (a symbol of a crucial aperture), as though locking it with a golden key.” This is because when the gold sand rises into the cauldron, it must be sealed securely. Only then can the sacred embryo (a metaphor for the fruit of Neidan cultivation) become whole and firm.

Below, the fiery blaze burns strong, and the roar of the Dragon and Tiger (symbols of Yin and Yang energies in Neidan) resounds.

The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mysterious says, “As soon as you slip into the Cauldron of the Pool of Jade—the place within the body where the Elixir is refined—the True Fire rises up, as though it could overturn the heavens.” The Collected Works on Gradual Awakening says, “Because the fire burns downward when the Elixir is refined, the waters of the Yellow River are made to flow upstream.” This refers to the fire used in the cooking and refining process; naturally, its force must be strong. The Wuzhen Pian says, “The tiger leaps and the dragon soars; winds and waves surge. At the central, proper position, the Mysterious Pearl is produced.” The Cuixu Pian says, “The dragon roars and the tiger howls; lead and mercury unite, and Yellow Sprouts and White Snow appear clearly.” These passages describe how, when the fire in the Dantian is strong, it is as if clouds and mist rise within the body and wind stirs in the Muddy Pellet—the place of cultivation inside the crown of the head—so that one seems to hear the dragon roar and the tiger howl.

Peng Helin’s Song of the Original Pivot says, “Having received the instructions, return and test them in practice; see what unfolds when dragon and tiger contend. Those above the Ninefold Florescence know what happens: in a single night, wind and thunder shake ten thousand mountains.” Those who have experienced cultivation firsthand will understand what this means.

At first, use gentle fire; only at the end should you use forceful fire. Peng Helin’s Song of the Original Pivot says, “Having received the instructions, return and test them in practice; see what unfolds when dragon and tiger contend. Those above the Ninefold Florescence know what happens: in a single night, wind and thunder shake ten thousand mountains.” Those who have experienced cultivation firsthand will understand what this means.

When first gathering the ingredients, concentrate the Shen and gather the Qi, regulate the breath through the nose, and let the breathing follow your control. Once the Shen and Qi have returned to their root, holding the breath too long makes it strained and improper, while letting it go too freely makes it scattered. Only when the breath is long and continuous, without interruption, can the Shen gradually become concentrated and the breathing gradually settle. Before long, the Xun Gate—the place associated with breathing and the breath through the nose—roars like thunder, while dragon and tiger leap and soar. At that point, guide the breath upward along the Tail Gate, the coccyx at the base of the spine, then lead it into the Celestial Passage, the channel through which Qi ascends within the body, and send it straight upward.

Wang Baoyi says, “Gentle fire makes it grow; forceful fire makes it solid.” In other words, first make it grow, then bring it to completion: use gentle fire first and forceful fire afterward. The two cannot be treated as one and the same.

Observe the firing process with exceptional care, carefully discerning and regulating cold and heat.

When observing the firing process, one must be especially cautious. Draw in the senses, lower the curtains, and let the mind and spirit grow quiet and remain inwardly focused. Wait until the Qi of Heaven and Earth is about to arrive; then regulate the breath and observe, gathering the fire’s force for the refining process. Carefully discern the degree to which the firing has progressed, and never act rashly. The Wuzhen pian says, “In general, everything depends on the work of cultivation. Even the slightest error makes it impossible to refine the Elixir.” How could one act rashly?

Discerning and adjusting cold and heat means properly controlling the fire’s force and carefully gauging the pace of the firing. Increase the fire gradually, step by step; do not rush and intensify it abruptly. The Fuming pian says, “The firing process must be managed firmly, steadily, and cautiously. The slightest error makes it impossible to refine the Elixir. Adjusting the firing depends entirely on the Xun wind”—a wind that symbolizes assisting the fire and fanning the furnace flames. Therefore, the fire must not be intensified abruptly.

Circulate through the twelve stages; when each stage is complete, observe closely once more.

The “twelve stages” refer to the twelve two-hour periods of the day through which the celestial cycle proceeds. In bodily cultivation, they correspond to the directions and phases of the firing process. The fire begins to rise at the hour of Zi, then turns downward at the hour of Wu, circulating around the vessel like the celestial bodies passing through the twelve earthly branches. When the twelve stages have completed a full cycle, the celestial pattern returns to the position of Zi. Hence the lines: “Circulate through the twelve stages; when each stage is complete, observe closely once more.” The Cuixu pian says, “When the Zhen trigram moves to the western position of Dui, the three Yang energies appear. The Xun wind stirs the coral tree; it enters the position of Gen, then returns to Kun, where a Yang line is born again.” This conveys the same meaning as the passage here.

When Qi is depleted and life is nearing its end, the hun and po souls perish.

“When Qi is depleted and life is nearing its end, the hun and po souls perish” describes the exhaustion of the breath, the approach of death, and the extinction of the hun and po souls. The purpose of refining the Golden Elixir is originally to attain long life, so why does Wei Boyang speak of the breath ending and life coming to an end? The Cuixu pian explains: “Bring the Qi in all the channels back to its source. When the breath comes to rest, the Elixir begins to congeal.” This describes the process by which liquid gold congeals into the Elixir.

At this time, it is as though the stars of the Northern Dipper—the Ji, Xuan, Yuheng, and others—have temporarily stopped turning. The sun’s hun and the moon’s po seem to sink beneath the northern sea and quietly disappear. The sun’s Qi gradually ebbs away, the vital energy of life seems about to cease, and the spirit and soul appear to rest as if in death. The “death” spoken of here is not actual death. It means that one has returned to the root and restored one’s life: the spirit has settled, Jing and Qi have congealed, all eight channels have stopped moving, and breathing has ceased completely. The breath is utterly still, as if cut off. After this cessation comes a renewed awakening—what the Shangqing Ji calls, “This time I died a great death; only now have I come alive.” Ah, who can know what it is like when the Great Medicine forms, with all six pulses halted and the breath no longer moving, unless they have experienced it themselves? How could anyone explain it from mere speculation?

The color of the Elixir changes to purple, its radiance shining forth, and at last the Reverted Elixir is refined to completion—the Elixir obtained through internal alchemy.

The Cuixu Pian says: “Why does yellow fade away and purple appear? Only because the River Cart—the metaphor for circulating Jing and Qi in internal alchemy—has made its rounds again and again.” The general meaning is that when the nine cycles of fire timing—the method of applying the proper stages of heat during alchemical refinement—reach completion, the Elixir shines forth and changes to a purplish-gold color.

Swallowing a single pill, even a tiny amount no larger than a knife-tip measure, has wondrous effects.

The Cuixu Pian says: “It takes only a moment to draw it forth and refine it; the subtle One Qi then passes through the Three Passes, the vital gateways through which Jing and Qi circulate. Breath flows ceaselessly between the Three Passes, and a stream of white Qi reaches the Niwan, an internal alchemical site in the head. Above the Niwan stands a purple-gold tripod, within which a mass of purple gold congeals. It transforms into Jade Fluid and flows into the mouth, sweet and refreshing, spreading across the tip of the tongue. Once swallowed, it enters the five viscera and six bowels, bringing ease to the organs and health to the body.” This describes the Reverted Elixir entering the mouth, sweet and fragrant as honey, cool as orchid. “Knife-tip measure” originally referred to an extremely small quantity, like the pointed corner of a jade tablet balanced on a knife tip. Once the Reverted Elixir has been successfully refined, it is said to produce transformations without limit, with effects too wondrous to fathom—far beyond the minor arts of heterodox paths. Calling it wondrous is indeed fitting.

The calculations of the Five Phases are worked out concisely and to the point, without needless complexity.

The Classic of Changes says: The numbers of Heaven begin with one, and the numbers of Earth begin with two. They proceed in order: Heaven three, Earth four; Heaven five, Earth six; Heaven seven, Earth eight; Heaven nine, Earth ten. These are the numbers by which the Five Phases come into being.

The Zihuazi says that among the great numbers between Heaven and Earth, none is more important or more central than five. Five is the number of Earth and occupies the center. Joined with one, the number of northern Water, it becomes six; joined with two, the number of southern Fire, it becomes seven; joined with three, the number of eastern Wood, it becomes eight; and joined with four, the number of western Metal, it becomes nine. Nine is the limit of number: in the world, counting ends at nine. If we speak of the nine numbers, five stands among one, two, three, four, six, seven, eight, and nine as the number at the center.

Numbers originally have no ten. Earth’s completed number is said to be ten because the one of the north, the two of the south, the three of the east, and the four of the west gather at the center and combine to make ten. Thus, when the central five is spread to the four directions, it becomes six, seven, eight, and nine; Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal all depend on Earth to come into being. When the one, two, three, and four of the four directions are gathered back to the center and combine as ten, Water, Fire, and Metal all return to their source and converge in Earth.

The Wuzhen pian (Treatise on Awakening to Reality), a Daoist Neidan text, says: “The two things always give rise to one another; the Five Phases must all return to the center.” The Hunyuan Baozhang, a Daoist text, says: “The positions of the four directions are clearly distinct, yet they must be applied in reverse; the Five Phases arise together and return together.” These words all illuminate this principle.

Even a child three feet tall can recite the numbers by which the Five Phases come into being. Yet few truly understand their meaning or know how they are put into practice in cultivation. Without knowing their key, how can one master their actual application? From this we can see that the essential meaning of the Dao is profound and subtle, and its celestial workings are far-reaching. Those who understand see it as simple and easy to practice; those who are confused find it ever more complicated and difficult.

Pour water onto a fire, and its flames will soon be extinguished. Eclipses occur when the sun and moon obscure one another, often at the new or full moon. When the force of water is strong, the Water of Kan overwhelms the Yang of the Fire of Li; when the fire is weak, the Fire of Li dims as though daylight were fading. The changes of Yin and Yang are perplexing: the more numerous and complex they become, the harder they are to understand. Yin and Yang respond to and interact with one another—this is the natural way.

In the Book of the Supreme Ultimate’s Ordering of the World, Shao Kangjie (Shao Yong, a Northern Song scholar of the Yijing) writes that solar and lunar eclipses manifest the convergence of the forces that govern their cycles. When the sun and moon face one another, the moon obscures the sun and a solar eclipse occurs; when the sun and moon are opposite each other, the earth’s shadow covers the moon and a lunar eclipse occurs. This is like water overcoming fire: pour water on a fire, and the water suppresses it until its flames suddenly go out. When the Great Yin—the moon here—obscures the sun, Yin suppresses Yang, and daylight grows dim. When Yin and Yang converge, each restrains the other, as though they were eclipsing one another; this is the natural way. Wei Boyang uses solar and lunar eclipses to explain the mysteries of the Way of the Elixir, and also uses water overcoming fire as a metaphor, setting out the matter in great detail. Solar and lunar eclipses, however, often occur around the dark and new moon: the dark moon is the end of the lunar month, and the new moon its beginning. Shouldn’t those who cultivate the Golden Elixir take Heaven and Earth as their model, work with the workings of creation, and seek out this moment of conjunction at the dark and new moon?

“Name” serves to define intent and feeling; “designation” serves to explain innate nature. Only when the Metal Qi returns to its original nature can it be called “Returning the Elixir”—that is, causing the elixir that has been refined to return to its source.

The “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” says: “One thing is divided into two parts; only by understanding this can one know the names of the two parts.” These two parts are Metal and Wood. Metal and Wood are not originally two separate entities. Calling it “Metal” refers to its name; calling it “Wood” refers to its style name. Wood is its nature, and Metal is its emotion. In fact, both names refer to the same thing.

The Lord of Metal was originally the son of the master of the eastern house, but was sent to live and grow up in the western neighbor’s home. This alone cannot be called “returning the Elixir.” Only when it is poured into the furnace of creation, where the Yang Qi of the East is present, and allowed to return home and meet the Azure Maiden—a fairy who symbolizes the Yin force—does it produce a pearl, round as the moon. Only then can it be called the returned Elixir. Some also say: “When the mind is still and unmoving, emotion returns to nature; hence it is called the returned Elixir.” This interpretation has merit, but it is not what Wei Boyang intended in this chapter when he spoke of “Metal as emotion and Wood as nature.”

“I dare not make claims out of thin air; I merely imitate the wording of the sages. In ancient records, dragons and tigers appeared; the Yellow Emperor praised the Golden Flower; Huainanzi refined Autumn Stone; and Wang Yang commended Yellow Sprout.”

The dragons and tigers in the ancient records, the Golden Flower mentioned by the Yellow Emperor, the Autumn Stone refined by Huainanzi, and the Yellow Sprout commended by Wang Yang all use names to convey subtle meanings. How could Wei Boyang have written this book by making things up or freely advancing baseless opinions? He, too, followed the ancients, expressing profound ideas in veiled language. Zhu Xi believed that the book’s wording was grounded in ancient texts and was certainly not invented out of thin air.

“The worthy can uphold the practice; do not travel with the unworthy.”

Guiguzi studied under Zihuazi for twelve years. After completing his studies, he took leave and set off home. Zihuazi admonished him, saying, “Now you…” Then he urged him with the words: “The worthy can uphold the practice; do not travel with the unworthy.”

Guiguzi studied under Zihuazi for twelve years. When his studies were complete, he took his leave and set out for home. Zihuazi warned him: “There is nothing more about the principles you have learned that I need to question. But you intend to gather knowledge broadly and pass it on freely. I fear that, in time, you will not choose your students carefully. Some may strip away the essence of what you have learned and establish schools of their own. Some may climb into your carriage and ride it wherever they please. Others may destroy the treasure by which you achieved success, splitting it into five parts. The Dao, to be sure, suffers when it has no successor, for without successors the Dao is hindered. But it also suffers when passed on to the wrong people, for an unsuitable successor does harm to the Dao. Now that you are about to leave, you need only consider how to pass on your teachings with care, and I will have nothing to reproach you for.”

Duke Wei said, “The worthy can uphold their conduct; the unworthy should not walk with them.” His concern, too, was profound. The unworthy are often frivolous and shallow, and the frivolous and shallow do not uphold what is right. Few, it seems, can resist taking Yi’s bow—the bow of the legendary archer—and shooting recklessly with it. The “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” says: “This is why the worthy can uphold their conduct, while the unworthy should not walk with them.” The “bow of Yi” here stands for a precious and powerful skill, which can easily be misused if it falls into the wrong hands.

The “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” also says: “This Dao is supremely mysterious and sacred. Do not reveal it carelessly. Teach it only when the virtue of teacher and student is well matched, and speak with caution, observing what should be avoided.” We should understand that the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir—the Daoist path of cultivation centered on Neidan (internal alchemy)—is fit to be transmitted only to people of worth and virtue. If someone is not suitable, one should not discuss it with them; it is acceptable even to keep one’s distance. Alas, across the ages, the records of those who left the world to cultivate the Dao tell of outstanding people. Riding cranes and clouds, commanding mist and rosy clouds—these were never feats for the dull and foolish. How could the unworthy understand such things?

Throughout the ages, there has been only one Dao, and the underlying meaning made clear in discussions of it has always been the same.

When people attain the “One”—the root of the Dao—all things become connected. How great this One is! It is surely the source of a thousand scriptures and treatises, and the root of a thousand transformations. Indeed, there are not two Daos under Heaven, nor do sages have two kinds of heart. The teachings in ten thousand volumes of immortal scriptures all come down to the same thing. The Great Dao of the Golden Elixir takes this as its foundation.

Those who study the Dao should apply themselves all the more, paying close attention and reflecting deeply. The most important principles have been made perfectly clear; there is no deception in them.

Wei Boyang says that if those who study this book repeatedly reflect on and ponder its contents, one day they will suddenly understand. They will see that the essential principles I have explained are perfectly clear and explicit, with nothing concealed or deceptive. Alas, these principles are so clear; I have not deceived you.

Alas, Wei Boyang’s care in guiding later students was indeed profound. How could students fail to trust and accept his words, recite and uphold this book, and reflect deeply on it?

End of Volume Four of An Elaboration on the Seal of the Unity of the Three According to the Zhou Changes.

An Elaboration on the Seal of the Unity of the Three According to the Zhou Changes, Volume Five

Written by Yu Yan, the Complete Yang Master of the Mountain Hermitage of Linwu.

Middle Section, Part One

Qian is firm and strong; Kun is yielding and compliant. The two work together, each encompassing the other.

Human breathing is a marvelous process. Zhang Zai writes in Zhengmeng that breathing resembles the interaction of firmness and softness, and the alternation of opening and closing in Heaven and Earth. What is breathing? It is one exhalation and one inhalation. With each exhalation, the pulse beats twice and Qi moves three cun; with each inhalation, the pulse likewise beats twice and Qi moves another three cun. In one full breath, Qi travels six cun. Taking a day and night as one hundred ke, a person breathes 13,500 times in all, and Qi travels 810 zhang, flowing up and down through the body in an endless cycle.

Before birth, a person lives in the mother’s womb and breathes along with her. Unable to see or hear, the person is sustained by a single breath. After birth, when the umbilical cord is cut, a little primordial Qi gathers below the navel. As time passes, the mind becomes active and Qi moves along with it; a person no longer remains with the original breath as a fetus does.

The methods of immortal cultivation call on people to gather the mind and turn their attention inward, breathing in Qi that is calm and balanced. The aim is to return to the root and source, and regain the state from the beginning of life. Xu Jingyang’s “Song of the Immortal Drunk with Thought” says, “Within, true Qi joins with the breath; naturally, transformation restores a child’s face.” The Song of the Great Dao of the Numinous Source also says, “A thousand scriptures and ten thousand treatises discuss the subtle mysteries, yet the thread of life has always rested in the true breath.” Any other explanation is a deviant and deluded practice, not the essential principle of the natural Dao.

When Wei Boyang says, “Heaven is firm, Earth is yielding; they join and embrace one another,” he means that in alchemical practice, the Yang Qi of Heaven and the Yin Qi of Earth are brought together. The breaths contain one another and firmness pairs with softness, like a husband and wife joining and becoming one. In this way, Shen and Qi return to their root, nature and life unite, and the alchemical ingredients are conceived within them. This process has many names: the mating of Dragon and Tiger; the joining of Metal and Wood; the coiling of Tortoise and Snake; the union of red and black; the harmonious intercourse of Heaven and Earth; the mingling of the dark and the yellow; the blending of Metal and Earth; Metal and Mercury in the same cauldron; Metal and Fire in the same furnace; the union of red and white; Sun and Moon in the same chamber; Crow and Hare in the same den; the joyful union of husband and wife; the meeting of Oxherd and Weaver Girl; the pairing of male and female; the merging of souls and spirits; and Water and Earth in their native place. In the end, all these terms describe the mind and breath depending on one another, Yin and Yang responding within the body, and Shen and Qi joining together.

Yang Qi receives Yin Qi; male and female depend on one another.

“Yang receives and Yin accepts” is like a flower gradually opening and dew slowly condensing. “Male and female depend on one another” is like the jia dragon and geng tiger traveling together, or lead and mercury entering the same furnace: only then can they be refined. This receiving and mutual dependence both refer to the union of Yin and Yang. Heaven and Earth generate and nurture the myriad things through their union, and alchemical methods likewise rely on the union of Yin and Yang to produce the “medicine”—the Jing and Qi cultivated in Neidan practice. Without union, creation cannot be accomplished.

The Book of Jade Zhi says, “If the dark and the yellow do not unite, how can Yang Qi ascend from the Kan position?” This is the fundamental principle of alchemy and the foremost precept of cultivating immortality. Yuan Yangzi’s Song of the Great Dao says, “The dark Heaven is matched with the yellow Earth; their two affections join in the bridal chamber.” The dew on the Elixir Terrace, the Golden Mother entering the water, the union of dragon and tiger, the joining of Hun and Po, the Sun moving into the Moon, and divine water entering the Flower Pool, as described in the Returning the Gold Treatise, the Returning to the Origin Treatise, the Awakening to Reality Treatise, the Treatise on Understanding the Awakening, the Treatise on Returning to the Mandate, the Treatise on Upholding Correctness, and the Collected Works of Shangqing, all express this same idea of the union of Yin and Yang.

Only by understanding this can one produce the medicine and form the embryo. Then, by mastering the firing times—the timing and degree of refinement and cultivation—and applying them in practice, one will hear the Heavenly Drum resound and see jade dust fly, as the medicine rises into the Niwan, the Neidan cultivation site in the head. If one understands the union of Yin and Yang but not the firing times, one can only warm and nurture the lower origin, the cultivation site in the lower abdomen; this is not yet called returning the Elixir, the completion of Neidan and its return to the original state. An ancient song says, “From red to black is true cultivation; refining black back to red makes one a celestial immortal.” This also means that alchemical practice has distinctions between the prenatal and postnatal, and between Wuwei and purposeful action. In the prenatal stage, one gathers the spirit at the Kun navel, a site symbolizing Yin, to produce the medicine. In the postnatal stage, one moves the spirit to the Qian crown, the head’s Yang-symbolizing summit, to form the Elixir. The prenatal stage is characterized by Wuwei; the postnatal stage by purposeful action. The two must not be treated as one and the same.

When one follows the transformations of Heaven and Earth, Jing and Qi unfold and flow freely.

The Cui Xu Pian says, “Whenever Heaven and Earth join, one must seize the moment when Yin and Yang bring forth their transformations.” The “moment” here is the time when the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth unite and set transformation in motion. Changes within the human body correspond to the transformations of Heaven and Earth. The subtlety of “following the transformations” lies in bringing the timing of Heaven into accord with the moment within the body. If a person quiets the mind and focuses the spirit, moving in step with the rhythms of Heaven and Earth, they can work with these transformations through their own understanding.

The Tian Yin Zi says, “If, throughout the three hundred and sixty days of the year, one circulates one’s own Qi so that it joins with the true Qi of Heaven and Earth, then after practicing two or three times one will feel clear and harmonious in body, unlike in ordinary life. If one practices for a long time and keeps building on this, eventually joining inwardly with the Great Dao, then the path to becoming an immortal will not be difficult to attain.” Someone asked, “If you wish to sit, why not simply sit? Why distinguish the origins and courses of the Qi channels, or concern yourself with the seasons and times?” Such a person does not understand the principles of transformation; there is no point discussing them with him.

Kan and Li take the leading positions, and their radiance spreads downward.

Kan and Li symbolize the Sun and Moon. In the methods of alchemy, there are inner Sun and Moon, and outer Sun and Moon. The Huangting Jing says, “The Sun rises and the Moon sets; breathing sustains and nourishes.” This refers to the inner Sun and Moon. It also says, “The three lights shine brilliantly, entering the chamber within the body.” This refers to the outer Sun and Moon. The radiance of both the inner and outer Sun and Moon spreads downward from here.

Kan and Li, hexagrams in the Book of Changes (Zhouyi) often used in Neidan to symbolize changes of Yin and Yang, such as water and fire, are the sun and moon. In the methods of alchemical cultivation, there are “inner sun and moon” and “outer sun and moon.” The Yellow Court Scripture says, “As the sun rises and the moon sets, keep them in mind with every breath.” This refers to the inner sun and moon. It also says, “The three lights of sun, moon, and stars shine brightly into the inner chambers of the body.” This refers to the outer sun and moon. Both should be present; neither can be left out.

The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mystery says, “When they unite outside, they also unite within; when the Three Passes are open and connected, no effort is needed.” In alchemical cultivation, the inner sun and moon unite Jing and Qi within the body, while the outer sun and moon bring their radiance together beyond it. When inner and outer gather and remain undispersed for a long time, one enters a state of indistinct, elusive awareness, in which something seems to be present. One then enters a state of profound darkness and obscurity, in which Jing and Qi seem to be present; white clouds then crisscross and intermingle throughout the vast emptiness.

The sun and moon shine upon heaven and earth. When mussels and snails absorb their light, they can produce pearls; when stubborn stones store it up, they can become fine jade. How much more, then, can the human body, which already contains the sun and moon, turn their light back to illuminate itself, crystallizing its own pearl and nurturing its own jade?

The Collected Writings of the Highest Clarity says, “The workings of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, amount in essence to Kan and Li. Why is fine jade hidden inside stone? Why is a pearl hidden in a mussel’s belly?” These words use things in the world to reveal Heaven’s secret. One might say that the Dao is right before our eyes. Though the Dao is plainly close at hand, those who study it may still fail to understand: Heaven’s secret is so near that the deluded often pass it by without seeing it.

The Dao’s mysterious and profound principles are beyond measure and cannot be depicted in diagrams. By inquiry and discernment, the sages refer to and arrange the primal foundations of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things.

The Great Elixir Formula of the Red Dragon says, “There is something called Dark Mystery, from which the Golden Elixir is born.” It is still and spacious, subtle beyond measure—how could it be drawn as an image? Since it cannot be depicted, it can only be understood inwardly. Yet practitioners may grasp it for themselves; how can sages help others understand its mystery as well? Sages therefore sought out hidden principles, explained the supremely mysterious foundation that precedes Heaven, and used many kinds of analogy to describe the basis of the Golden Elixir. Thus, alchemical scriptures and the writings of the various masters were passed down through the world, and the Cantong qi was composed according to the principles of the Yijing (Book of Changes).

“Original foundation” means the basis. The Wuzhen pian says, “To keep the Valley Spirit alive and undying, one must establish a foundation through the Dark Female (the root of Yin-Yang union and the generation of life force).” The compounding of lead and refining of mercury (alchemical terms symbolizing the regulation of Yin-Yang so that the ingredients coalesce) depend entirely on the Dark Female; therefore, the Dark Female is the foundation of the Reverted Elixir. When a man firmly establishes the Dark Female, his Jing and Qi can be kept secure; when a woman firmly establishes it, her monthly cycle ceases. If practitioners do not understand this, where will the ingredients arise, where will the Reverted Elixir coalesce, and how will the firing process be applied?

The four elements (paired opposites such as Yin and Yang, lead and mercury) blend into one and proceed directly into the realm of emptiness.

The “four” mentioned here are the four trigrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li. Since the four unite as one, they are called “Chaos.” The Zhi Xuan Pian says, “The subtle beginnings continue without interruption; from south and north, east and west, they naturally come together.” This describes precisely how Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li unite as one. When the four become one, spirit and Qi return to their source and enter directly into the realm of emptiness, deep and dark, whose workings are difficult to explain. The Lingyuan Dadao Ge says, “Once they have fused into one, forget even this ‘one,’ and you can change and move in and out together with the work of creation.” This is what it means.

However, the “emptiness” spoken of by alchemists does not mean thinking of nothing and having no thoughts, nor does it mean being lifeless like withered wood or cold ashes. The Tongxuan Zhenjing says, “Rest in the deep darkness and listen in silence; within the darkness there is awareness, and within the stillness there is observation.” This is a subtle state that cannot be conveyed in words. Those who have not understood it sometimes mistake it for the quiescent extinction described in Chan Buddhism, but that too is wrong. If Golden Elixir cultivation were simply Chan practice, it would be enough to practice Chan directly. Why, then, study the complex transformations of Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li, or investigate the trigrams and lines, Yin-Yang, and the workings of creation?

Each of the sixty hexagrams has its own function, and arranged in sequence they are like the fittings of a carriage. A dragon-horse draws the carriage, while a wise ruler guides it in accordance with the seasons. When Yin-Yang is harmonized, one can move forward with the current, along a smooth and straight road. But if one takes a crooked path, the road becomes perilous and may even bring the state to ruin.

The methods of alchemical practice (Neidan, internal alchemy) regard the Qian and Kun trigrams as the vessel, and Kan and Li as the elixir ingredients. The remaining sixty hexagrams, from Zhun and Meng through Jiji and Weiji, are then arranged in sequence around the vessel’s exterior to represent the cycles of fire and timing—the principles by which the hexagrams model the movement of Qi and the stages of cultivation. Hence the saying: “The sixty hexagrams are put to use, spread out to form a carriage.” This means that when the sixty hexagrams are laid out, they resemble a carriage; when all sixty can serve my purposes, the dragon-horse, too, comes under my reins.

The Shangqing Yuzhen Taixi Jue says: “I make Shen my carriage and Qi my horse; I drive them all day without growing weary.” “Without growing weary” means that the breath continues unbroken, seeming to be there without deliberate effort. One neither forgets it entirely nor clings tightly to it; it remains faintly present, without making oneself tired or tense.

Guangchengzi said to the Yellow Emperor: “I hold fast to the root and dwell in peace. Thus, after cultivating my body for twelve hundred years, my physical form has never grown old.” The human body is like a state, and the mind is like its ruler. When the mind is settled, Shen gathers and Qi becomes peaceful. The Three Officials—the body’s inner functions that govern Jing, Qi, and Shen, among other things—then rise and descend naturally, and the hundred channels flow freely. With diligent cultivation, there is no one who cannot become an immortal.

In his Liaoran Lun, Gushenzi says that the way of cultivating the body takes utmost Shen as its root, utmost Jing as its medicine, harmony and balance as its means, and Wuwei (non-action) as its governance. When Wuwei is achieved, Shen becomes settled; when Shen is settled, harmonious Qi gathers; when harmonious Qi gathers, the foundation grows firm; and when the foundation is firm, the way of long life and enduring vision can be fulfilled. If one does not follow this way, one is not practicing the method of the Golden Liquid Great Return Elixir, the Neidan attainment that symbolizes the Elixir’s completion and return to the source.

In general, the movement of Qi and blood through the body depends above all on not being disturbed. The method of cultivation is extremely simple: embrace the origin and preserve unity, concentrate Qi until it becomes supple, and remain gentle and settled like an infant. In alchemical practice there is no other secret: simply empty the mind and become still, gather Shen at the Qi cavity—the place where attention is placed and Shen is concentrated in Neidan practice—and let the breath come and go naturally, continuing without interruption. In time, Shen will settle of itself and the breath will become steady. When the breath is steady, Qi gathers; when Qi gathers, the Elixir forms. There is no need to exert oneself with massage, Daoyin exercises, breathing techniques, or visualization.

The Neizhi Tongxuan Mijue says: “When the sun goes, follow it as it goes; when the moon comes, follow it as it comes. Follow its comings and goings, yet never leave the Elixir Terrace.” From this, it is clear that the way of the Great Elixir consists simply in bringing about transformation through the Qi of original harmony. There is no other path.

A noble person lives indoors and speaks in accord with the right way; even those a thousand miles away will respond. Here, the point is that a ruler who governs the people dwells within the deep palace, and should issue commands in harmony with the seasons of Yin-Yang change.

The ruler holds the honored position of lord of ten thousand chariots and lives deep within the palace. If his words accord with the right way, people a thousand miles away will respond. Those who practice Neidan (internal alchemy) should likewise gather in their radiance and remain silent and still, turning the light of the mind and spirit inward until the mind reaches a state of utter emptiness and stillness. Then the Qi of Heaven and Earth will naturally respond and come forth. Why is this so? When one side summons, the other responds: this is the natural way of things.

The phrase “issue commands in harmony with the seasons of Yin-Yang” means that the wise rulers of antiquity acted according to the seasonal calendar. In the first month of spring, they ordered the chief minister to extend benevolence and promulgate policies; in the first month of autumn, they ordered the generals to select and train soldiers and put weapons in order. This, too, was to follow the seasons and the changes of Yin-Yang in Heaven and Earth. If this is how one governs a state, how should one refine the Elixir and cultivate the Dao?

Store away the conditions needed for cultivation and wait for the right moment. Do not violate the times assigned by the hexagram Qi.

The Treatise on Returning the Gold says: “Do not miss the moment; keep watch for a long time at the first arising of Yang.” In refining the Elixir, one must first understand the timing, and above all, wait for the right moment. Before it arrives, gather the mind and spirit and remain silently still, waiting with an empty and tranquil mind; do not act prematurely. Xu Jingyang’s Song of the Three Medicines says: “Nurture the mind and spirit, cut off distracting thoughts, and wait for Jing and Qi to gather.” The Twenty-Nine Chapters of Jiang on Pointing to the Mysterious says: “Close the portals of the ears, eyes, and other senses, lower the curtains, and observe silently.” These passages all speak of storing one’s vessel and waiting for the time. Ah, when the moment arrives, no effort is needed: the Yin and Yang Qi within the body naturally unite and condense. When entering the chamber to cultivate according to the proper time, one need only wait in stillness. Once the Qi of the Yellow Path rises, change will occur of itself. How could one act before the right moment?

The Zhun hexagram corresponds to the days Zi and Shen; the Meng hexagram corresponds to the days Yin and Xu. Each of the sixty hexagrams has its own corresponding days. Only two examples are given here, so the full range of cases has not been covered.

The hexagram Zhun consists of Zhen below and Kan above. The “Zi” and “Shen” used for Zhun refer to “Gengzi” in the first nine line of Zhen and “Wushen” in the sixth-fourth line of Kan. The hexagram Meng consists of Kan below and Gen above. Its “Yin” and “Xu” refer to “Wuyin” in the first six line of Kan and “Bingxu” in the sixth-fourth line of Gen.

The Earthly Branches Zi, Shen, Yin, and Xu can also correspond to Zi, Wu, Mao, and You; to spring, summer, autumn, and winter; to Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire; and to the tortoise, snake, dragon, and tiger. These correspondences all use images to convey meaning.

Looking at the sixty hexagrams, the sequence begins with Zhun and Meng and ends with Jiji and Weiji. The yin and yang lines in each hexagram alternate and change. Though the hexagrams differ, each has corresponding relationships with its inverse and complementary forms; at the root, all hexagrams are interconnected. When Wei Boyang says, “For now, I will present two hexagram images; this is not yet enough to explain them in full,” he is asking readers to observe the images of Zhun and Meng carefully, then reason from them to understand the meaning of the other hexagrams.

Each hexagram has six lines, so two hexagrams have twelve lines, corresponding to the twelve two-hour periods of a day. The sixty hexagrams have 360 lines, corresponding to the 360 two-hour periods in a month. Wei Boyang’s intention was simply to use hexagram images to explain the stages of the firing process in his own cultivation, and the opening and closing of the right moments. “Firing process” refers to the rhythms of refining and nurturing, and the timing of advancing and withdrawing in Neidan (internal alchemy). Applying this approach to hexagrams such as Xu and Song also allows one to derive their respective associations with the Earthly Branches; the same method can be applied to the remaining hexagrams. That is why he says he will present only two hexagram images for now, without explaining each one in turn. The lines in the Wuzhen pian that say, “The northern and southern lineages turn to the images of the hexagrams; the firing process from dawn to dusk accords with the pivot of Heaven,” clarify this same idea.

If one clings to the words and hexagram images, insisting on calculating the numerical values of the hexagram structures and demanding that they match each yin and yang line one by one, one may toil all one’s life without gaining anything. One would exhaust oneself in restless effort without knowing where to turn—a truly lamentable outcome.

When punishment is called for, impose it; when benevolence and De are called for, put them into practice.

The West corresponds to righteousness, and the East to benevolence. Punishment governs stern suppression and subduing, while virtuous conduct governs growth and renewal. The text’s phrase “impose punishment in accordance with righteousness” refers to refining the lead of the West through controlled heating. “Put De into practice in accordance with benevolence” refers to cultivating and refining the mercury of the East.

Lead belongs to Metal. Its nature is firm and strong, and it is stored within Kan (which symbolizes Water and also refers to a corresponding position in Neidan). Unless it is fiercely heated and repeatedly refined, it cannot be made to rise. It must therefore be driven through refinement with martial fire, the more intense mode of heating, rather than gentle fire. Mercury belongs to Wood. Its nature is yielding, and it is concealed within Li (which symbolizes Fire and also refers to a corresponding position in Neidan). As soon as it encounters true lead, it naturally settles; it must therefore be cultivated with gentle fire, not martial fire.

The Chongzheng Pian says: “In defending a city, one must rely on civil virtue; in fighting in the open field, one should first display military strength. The two functions must be clearly distinguished: follow what is appropriate, and good fortune will result; go against their principle, and misfortune will follow.” This is precisely the point.

Act in accordance with the seasonal divisions of the calendar, with sincere focus and careful discretion.

Gao Hongmeng says in “Song of the Dreaming Immortal”: “There are set times and dates for gathering; when gathering, one must be cautious and thorough.” Therefore, one must follow the calendar and the precepts, and understand the essentials for beginning cultivation. In cultivation, the mind and will must be sincere, focused, and disciplined, without a trace of stray thought. Only then can one gather the “divine fungus” (a metaphor for the wondrous substance attained through cultivation).

Even when cultivating behind closed doors for a year, carrying the “spirit banner” (an inner thought or symbol used in cultivation) within the mind from morning to night, one must remain sincere and concentrated, with no distractions. Only then may the Elixir be refined and one become an immortal. If one treats the Great Dao as child’s play, carelessly probing and using the secrets of Heaven, then stops after a few days, one cannot speak of sincerity. The Yellow Court Scripture (Huangting Jing) says: “Accumulating effort and refining oneself to success do not come naturally; they depend on utmost sincerity and single-mindedness.” From ancient times to the present, no one has succeeded in refining the Elixir without sincerity, or accomplished the work without wholehearted concentration.

Long ago, Yi Qiu taught two people to play chess. One listened attentively; the other appeared to listen, but was thinking that a swan was about to fly by and planning to shoot it with a bow and arrow. Though they studied together, the latter’s skill at chess remained far inferior to the former’s. Chess is only a minor skill, yet without concentration one cannot learn it well. How much more so the cultivation of the Dao?

Sima Ziwei says in his Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion (Zuowang Lun): “Free of worldly affairs, at ease and tranquil—only then can one cultivate the Dao.” Those who study the Dao should be tranquil and practice Wuwei (non-action), without letting external things burden the mind and spirit. If one is entangled in household affairs at home and distracted by official duties outside, one cannot devote oneself to cultivating the Dao. Zhang Xujing says in his “Song of the Great Dao”: “When Shen (spirit) directs Qi (vital energy), Qi remains in the body; without frantic distraction, one can naturally attain long life. Turmoil makes it hard to encounter the Dao, and even when one does, it is impossible to cultivate with single-minded focus. Thus, among ten thousand people who study the Dao, only one or two ultimately succeed.” These words are indeed well founded.

Today, some people who study the Dao do not understand that the Way of the Immortals requires long, steady accumulation before it can be perfected. They want to attain the Dao in a moment, as easily as if playing a game. They do not realize that brief initial effort is only the stage of forming the Elixir; afterward, the work must be nurtured through a full year of fire-phase cultivation (sustained care of Elixir practice in accordance with the rhythms of cultivation). Throughout that year, whether walking, sitting, lying down, sleeping, or eating, one must keep the mind and spirit settled, lest the fire-phase cool and the Elixir’s power falter. How could one suddenly interrupt the process?

One must carefully observe the changes in the days and seasons, and discern the moments when Yin and Yang wax and wane.

The Wuzhen pian says, “Heaven and Earth each have their seasons of fullness and decline. Observe their waxing and waning closely, and you will understand the moment of opportunity.” It also says that the moon’s waxing and waning correspond to the flourishing and decline of a person’s spirit, while the sun’s rising and setting correspond to changes in the warmth and coolness of the body’s rongwei qi—the Qi that circulates within and outside the vessels and protects and nourishes the body. Each month has its own waxing and waning, and each day does too: the dark moon, new moon, first quarter, and full moon mark the monthly changes; day, night, dawn, and dusk mark those within a day.

The human body takes Heaven and Earth as its model, and the waxing and waning of Qi and blood likewise correspond to their cycles. The Suwen says that the body’s Qi begins to grow vigorous at dawn, Yang reaches its height at noon, and after the sun has passed its zenith, Yang gradually weakens and the Qi gates close. It also says that as the moon grows fuller after the new moon, Qi and blood begin to flourish and the defensive Qi begins to circulate. At the full moon, Qi and blood are abundant and the muscles firm. As the moon wanes, the muscles weaken, the channels become depleted, and defensive Qi withdraws from the body’s surface to circulate on its own within. Thus, just as Heaven and Earth have day and night, dawn and dusk, so the human body has corresponding changes. And just as Heaven and Earth have the moon’s dark and new phases, first quarter, and full moon, the body has corresponding fullness and decline. The movement between cold and heat and the alternation of Yin and Yang all mirror the cycles of Heaven and Earth.

For this reason, the methods of the Elixir use Heaven as the cauldron and Earth as the furnace, and take the moon’s waxing and waning as the basis for working with the ingredients. The moon’s phases are observed to discern the right moment. The sun’s course provides the timing of the fire—the measure of advance and retreat, movement and stillness, during cultivation. From sunrise to sunset, all must accord with the cycles of Heaven and Earth.

For example, the Huangji jingshi shu takes the hour of Yin as the time when all things begin to stir, like Jingzhe, the Awakening of Insects, in the yearly cycle; the count begins there. It takes the hour of Xu as the time when all things gather themselves in and lie dormant, like Lidong, the Beginning of Winter; the count ends there. These may be understood as the moments for tending the fire in Elixir practice. During the hours of Hai, Zi, and Chou, the sun has sunk beneath the earth and cannot be seen. The count remains, but does not move. In that interval, when the first Yang begins to stir and the myriad things have not yet emerged, lies the moment the sages described as perceiving the “heart of Heaven and Earth.” To grasp the patterns by which Heaven and Earth move, and bring the myriad things into their proper order, is to grasp the workings of creation and transformation. This is precisely the moment for gathering the ingredients in Elixir practice. The steps of drawing out and adding, applying, bathing, and joining also take their model from the changes of Heaven and Earth; for this reason, they are called the “Supreme Dao.” Any method that seeks another way apart from the transformations of Heaven and Earth is merely a lesser, heterodox technique based on subjective speculation, and cannot be called the Supreme Dao.

The Huainanzi says that clams, crabs, turtles, and pearls flourish and decline with the moon’s changes. When the moon wanes, the fish’s brains also diminish; when the moon is dark, snails and shellfish close up. Even the smallest creatures respond to the changes of Heaven and Earth—how much more so must human beings? From this we can understand that when the moon is full, cultivating the Elixir means Qi and blood are abundant and the potency of the ingredients is at its height. After the full moon, Qi and blood gradually diminish, and the ingredients become less potent.

The Cuixu pian says, “On the night of the full moon, one may gather what is needed; the heavenly Hun and earthly Po unite to form the numinous Elixir.” It also says that the time when Yin and Yang unite is suited to forming the Elixir. If one waits until after the full moon to seek it, the effort will be in vain. The Wuzhen pian says that the moon shines brightest on the fifteenth night of the eighth month, when the Golden Essence—a term in internal alchemy for the essential Qi gathered and refined in cultivation—is at its height. When the first Yang begins to arise, one should promptly advance the fire and not delay. The Chongzheng pian and the Jindan dacheng ji likewise point to the full moon at Mid-Autumn and the ripening of Metal Qi as signs of the right moment for gathering, and stress that the fire must be advanced promptly once the first Yang arises.

This does not mean that one should use the fifteenth day of the eighth month as the sole model, or that cultivation is possible only on that day each year. Bai Ziqing, Liao Chanhui, and others speak of entering the chamber at the Zi hour on the night of the fifteenth day of the eighth month because day and night are then equal, the boundary between Yin and Yang is clear, the autumn air is crisp, and the weather is neither cold nor hot. The Golden Essence is also at its height, making the time suitable for cultivation. The ancient immortals chose this time to form the embryo of the Elixir in order to accord with the clear Qi of Heaven and Earth and the Golden Essence. If one does not understand the essential teaching passed down in this practice and simply tries to absorb moonlight on the night of the fifteenth day of the eighth month, it is like casting a net to catch the wind or trying to tie down a shadow with a cord. How could that be the Supreme Dao?

The Suijin jimi by Lord Chao Wenyuan also records that Shi Jianwu, a recluse of Mount Song in the Tang dynasty, once read the Sanjing jing. It says that practitioners should enter a period of seclusion to nourish Shen and Qi and replenish life: a great retreat lasts three hundred days, a middle retreat two hundred days, and a lesser retreat one hundred days. Shi Jianwu therefore first tried a lesser retreat. On the first day of the first month of the third year of Kaicheng (838), he shut himself away for a hundred days, without contact with the outside world. Before the hundred days had passed, he felt divine light illuminating his eyes, the hundred spirits gathering in his ears, and his thoughts becoming clear. The author argues that cultivating the Great Elixir should proceed in the same way: only after a long period of quiet nourishment, when Shen is clear, Qi harmonious, and the body’s inner foundation secure, is one ready to begin. If someone spends the whole day occupied with worldly affairs, exhausting body and mind, yet hopes to succeed at a stroke on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the task will be exceedingly difficult.

Even the slightest deviation can bring regret and harm. Once the measures of the summer and winter solstices change, the cycles fall into disorder: the bitter cold of winter gives way to scorching heat, while midsummer brings hail and snow. The Yin-Yang cycles at the spring and autumn equinoxes lose their regular course, and the lengths of day and night no longer match the seasons. Winds and rain fall out of balance, floods and droughts alternate; locusts swarm, and mountains collapse and the earth splits. Heaven displays all kinds of omens, and strange phenomena appear one after another.

The Wuzhen pian says: “Even if you recognize cinnabar and black lead, without understanding the firing times, your efforts are in vain. In the end, everything depends on the power of cultivation; if you are off by the slightest degree, you cannot refine the Elixir.” The “fire” spoken of here is not the fire imagined in the kidneys, but the body’s naturally arising true fire. Nor is the “timing” a moment reckoned by the clock; it is the inner climate that naturally takes shape through cultivation.

Fire grows stronger when met by wind and is hidden when met by earth. In its use, it must be neither excessive nor insufficient. The key is to regulate its intensity and discern cold from heat: use the gentle “Xun wind” (a symbol of yielding wind) to nourish the fire, and “Kun earth” (a symbol of earth that bears and stores) to conceal it. In this way, the firing time is just right, neither too strong nor too weak. Neither the greater nor the lesser is damaged, and both Yin and Yang are preserved; in a very short time, signs of the Elixir’s first formation can appear. This is what is meant by regulating and applying the firing times. The slightest mistake throws the winter and summer solstices in the south and north out of order, and disrupts the spring and autumn equinoxes in the east and west as well. The depths of winter become midsummer, while midsummer brings sleet and snow; lead and mercury (alchemy terms here referring to the corresponding Yin and Yang ingredients) are scattered, and all kinds of strange phenomena follow.

A filial child’s devotion can move the “Supreme Order” (the highest order, centered in what is proper and governing the four directions). Its influence spreads from the child’s own words nearby to distant lands abroad.

The “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” says: “One man and one woman rely on Heaven and Earth; three sons and three daughters together form beginning and end.”

The Qian trigram gives birth to three sons, and the Kun trigram to three daughters. Together they are called the “Six Children.” Qian is the father and Kun the mother, dwelling above and below. The Six Children move between them, passing back and forth, all obeying their parents; hence they are called “filial children.” The “Imperial Pole” refers to the central, proper position, where the four quarters and eight directions converge. If practitioners can focus their intention and guide the Six Children’s movements in accord with this centered, upright position, they can bring about the union of the dragon and tiger: the tiger roars as the dragon emerges from its cave, while phoenixes soar into the Golden Citadel. Here, the dragon, tiger, and phoenixes are symbolic terms used in Neidan (internal alchemy).

If the Six Children’s movements become disorderly and depart from the centered, upright Way, “the Mysterious Pearl scatters and the numinous mercury flees.” This describes the loss of the Jing, Qi, Shen, and other elements needed for alchemical cultivation. The Six Children then cease to be filial children who obey their parents and become rebellious foes who obstruct the Dao of the Elixir.

The Six Children may be put to use in ways that bring calamity or fortune, establish peace throughout the land or ignite war. All these outcomes arise from the intentions of the human heart.

The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality, a Daoist Neidan classic) says: “Fire rises from within wood, and its sharp edge was there from the beginning. If you do not understand how to investigate it, do not force yourself to act. Calamity often begins this way and ultimately harms you. To subdue it, you must seek the ‘Metal Lord’”—a Neidan term symbolizing true lead.

This means that the medicine within the body must first be established as a foundation. Then, by cultivating according to the firing times—the adjustment of heat and timing in the alchemical process—fire presses upon metal, and the metal rises to the Palace of Li, which symbolizes the heart and the direction of fire. It transforms into water, which in turn restrains fire, preventing the danger of flames surging upward. If one applies the firing times recklessly without a foundation of medicine, insubstantial Yang Qi surges upward and harms the practitioner instead. This is why the same act of cultivation may bring calamity or good fortune.

It also says: “The sun and moon meet once every thirty days; let the hours take the place of the days, and carry out the wondrous work. Those who understand how to guard a city and fight in the open can distinguish good fortune from misfortune. As numinous cinnabar—the medicine obtained through alchemical cultivation—accumulates, the cauldron turns red.”

True lead is born in the Palace of Kan, which symbolizes the kidneys and the direction of water. It is heavy and turbid, and does not rise. To make it subdue true mercury in the Palace of Li—the essence of Qi associated with the heart and fire—one must refine it swiftly with fierce martial fire, driving it upward. Once it reaches the Palace of Li and joins with true mercury, one should guard the Dantian and nurture it in stillness through the bathing phase, without adding more fire. This peaceful phase differs from the earlier period of vigorous advance, just as guarding a city in peacetime differs from deploying troops in war. Why does cultivation sometimes bring calamity or good fortune, peace or turmoil? The answer is found by turning inward and examining one’s own thoughts.

Movement and stillness each follow enduring laws; one should abide by their principles.

In stillness and Wuwei (non-action), one returns to the root and recovers tranquility. This is the time represented by Kun, the Zhouyi hexagram symbolizing Yin receptivity and quiet abiding; one should wait calmly. When stillness reaches its limit, movement begins, and Yang Qi starts to arise unseen.

Movement and stillness each follow enduring laws; one should abide by their principles.

When all things return to stillness and go back to their source, this is the period symbolized by Kun. At that time, I wait in stillness. When stillness reaches its utmost and movement begins, Yang Qi quietly comes to life in the palace of Huangzhong—the name of an ancient pitch pipe, used here to indicate the time when Yang Qi first arises. This is the period symbolized by Fu. At that time, I set myself in motion and respond to it. Hence the saying: “Movement and stillness each have their proper order; one should follow their measure.” To introduce stillness when it is time to move, or movement when it is time to be still; to spur the process on too early, or to forget it too late—none of these follows the proper measure.

In ancient times, those who attained the highest level of cultivation moved like the heavenly bodies in their courses and, when still, were deep and quiet. They moved when movement was called for and rested when stillness was called for, each according to a fixed pattern. Today, some practitioners do not understand that movement and stillness in the methods of the Elixir each have their own timing. Some focus only on movement, others only on stillness. By “movement,” they mean circulating Qi; by “stillness,” they mean seated meditation and entering tranquility. Both interpretations depart from the methods of the Elixir. The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mystery says: “A person’s Qi and blood circulate naturally. Nutritive Qi and defensive Qi, along with Yin and Yang, cycle through the hundred divisions of the day and night.” Why, then, shut oneself away to practice circulating Qi deliberately? That would be like placing another head on top of one’s own. How could circulating Qi count as the “movement” meant here? The Cui Xu Treatise also says: “Only the true workings of Yin and Yang in Qian and Kun can serve; one cannot simply sit dumb and silent. When the mind has no thoughts or imaginings, spirit and Qi grow dull. How could they then gather to form the immortal embryo—the term for the Elixir embryo in Neidan cultivation?” Thus, seated meditation cannot be taken as the “stillness” meant here either. The Collected Works on the Great Completion of the Golden Elixir says: “Yang governs movement; Yin governs stillness.” The Cui Xu says: “Seek stillness within movement, and let there be action within stillness; both movement and stillness must be put to use.” These essentials have been passed down orally from teacher to student. Students should not judge them lightly on the basis of partial understanding.

Each season has its proper time; cultivation must accord with the movement of Qi.

The “four seasons” here refer to spring, summer, autumn, and winter within the body. In cultivation, one must adjust skillfully to accord with the right moment, so that warmth, chill, cold, and heat each find their proper balance. Lü Chunyang’s poem says: “Only when Water and Fire are harmonized does the medicine form; when Yin and Yang are thrown into disorder, the Elixir cannot be refined.” The key to cultivation lies entirely in harmonization.

Then hardness and softness become distinct, no longer mixed together.

“Hardness” refers to Yang strength, and “softness” to Yin softness. Each must remain in its proper place and be brought into balance; only then can the medicine of cultivation be formed. Lü Chunyang said, “When Water and Fire are balanced, that is the medicine; when Yin and Yang are in disorder, the Elixir cannot form.” The key to cultivation lies in bringing them into harmony.

The movements of hardness and softness each have their bounds and must not be mixed together. When Yang strength is active, focus the mind below and do not let it rise beyond its place. When Yin softness is active, focus the mind above and do not let it descend. Zhang Ziyang’s Song of the Stone Bridge says, “Water gives rise to Fire, and Fire gives rise to Water; Water and Fire must keep to their proper order.” This is the principle being described.

The Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—must each remain in their proper place, without arbitrary increase or decrease. Wang Liangqi’s Odes to the Scripture of Tiantong says, “Metal and Wood, with Water and Fire at the center: five things held steady in a single Dantian.” When the Five Phases spread throughout the body, they become Qi; when gathered together, they can condense into a treasure in the Dantian, the place within the body where energy gathers in Neidan cultivation. If they are calmly kept in the Dantian and allowed neither to become excessive nor deficient, the Five Phases will merge into one and condense into golden liquid, a refined substance in Neidan cultivation.

“Fullness” means excess, while “contraction” means insufficiency. The Cui Xu Treatise says, “Numinous mercury opens to truth and undergoes many transformations; it should only be kept and guarded, never pushed too far.” Excessive effort harms the body and the movement of Qi, while insufficient effort cannot bring about transformation. One need only sustain contemplation and guardianship without interruption. With long practice, the moment ripens and Qi begins to transform, as though a vessel had filled and overflowed; Shen then appears of its own accord.

The Way of the Yi moves in a complete, ceaseless cycle, now extending and now contracting, changing back and forth.

The Changes refers to the movements and transformations of the sun and moon. They travel along the ecliptic, day and night alternate, and the cycle continues without end. During the first half of the month, Yang Qi extends and Yin Qi contracts; one may say that the Hun (ethereal soul) grows while the Po (corporeal soul) wanes. During the second half, the opposite occurs: Yin Qi extends and Yang Qi contracts, the Hun wanes, and the Po grows. Yin and Yang thus alternate without end.

The human head corresponds to Qian (Heaven), and the abdomen to Kun (Earth), as if they were Heaven and Earth. The rising and falling of the two kinds of Qi within the body likewise resembles the movement of Heaven and Earth. The Secret Instructions on the Inner Guide to Penetrating the Mystery say: “The sun and moon continually travel along the ecliptic and celestial equator. Those who cultivate the Dao learn from them and can thereby refine the Returning Elixir.” The method of cultivation described here imitates the movements of Heaven, Earth, the sun, and the moon. Its key lies in the Ren and Du meridians, regarded as channels where the Yin and Yang Qi of the body converge and as the hub through which the true essence of the Five Qi circulates.

The Ren meridian begins below Zhongji, runs upward along the pubic region, passes through the abdomen and Guanyuan, and reaches the throat. It is known as the sea of Yin meridians. The Du meridian begins at the lower extremity, travels upward along the spine to Fengfu, enters the brain and reaches the crown of the head, then continues along the forehead to the bridge of the nose. It is known as the sea of Yang meridians. The name Ren comes from the idea that women use this meridian to conceive and nourish a fetus; Du is so called because it governs the other meridians. Ancient books also cite the longevity of deer, turtles, and toads, attributing it to their ability to keep the Du or Ren meridian open. The True Classic of the Southern Flower says: “If the Du meridian is made the constant path of circulation, the body and life can be preserved.” By this account, if a person can open the Ren and Du meridians, the other meridians can also flow freely, and Qi can circulate unhindered throughout the body. This is the key to longevity and long life.

The Secret Instructions on the Inner Guide to Penetrating the Mystery say: “There is a secret method by which the Water of the Law can travel to the vital gates. It cycles back and forth day and night, and the movement of Qi proceeds of itself. When Qi is obstructed, all kinds of illness arise; when it flows freely, youth can be preserved.” The poet Langranzi likewise says that Qi travels upward along its pathways to Niwan, the cultivation site in the brain at the crown of the head, and that once the joints are open, one can preserve one’s youthful appearance. He also says that if Qi is regularly made to pass through the joints, Jing and Qi will naturally be abundant and the Valley Spirit, or inner spiritual nature, will be preserved. These statements are not mere fantasy. Chen Xiyi calls this “transforming the coarse, animal nature and setting the Qi meridians in motion”; Han Xiaoyao says that after a month of practice, one can accord with the mysterious Dao.

This practice calls for “acting without deliberate effort”: it may look still and composed, but it does not involve deliberately pursuing stillness. According to tradition, it has been transmitted from generation to generation ever since the High Supreme Primordial Lord taught it in secret. The terms “central pivot” and “celestial circuit” both refer to the pathways along which Yin and Yang rise and descend throughout the body.

The Dao De Jing says: “The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female. The gate of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth. It exists continuously, and its activity seems effortless.” The Yinfu Jing says that “three cycles, day and night, multiply the power in its use.” The Huangting Jing says that when the Heavenly Meridian circulates within the heart and is nourished day and night, one can attain longevity. The Duren Jing describes circulation like the Dipper passing through the Winnowing Basket constellation, cycling through the Five Constants. The Tiantong Jing says that the Three Officials rise and descend, coming and going without end. The Shangqing Yuzhen Fetal Breathing Instructions say that Qi moves from Niwan above to Mingmen below; the two kinds of Qi, like the sun and moon, accompany one another and can restore the aged and frail.

Liu Xugu’s Commentary on the Changes says that Shen and Qi rise to the mysterious realm, while primordial Qi descends to the Yin orifice, cycling upward and downward without pause. Bai Ziqing’s Teachings from the Eastern Tower says that Qi travels from Tiangu, a cultivation site in the head, to the Yin extremity, where the two kinds of Qi meet and merge into one. Cui Gong’s Mirror for Compounding the Medicine says that Qi returns to its root orifice, comes back to Mingmen, passes through the Caudal Gate, and rises to Niwan. Xu Jingyang’s Song of the Three Medicines says that the Qi of the Three Fields circulates throughout the body, clearing the eyes and restoring black hair.

Later books use expressions such as “the repeated turning of Kan and Li,” “the revolutions of Heaven and Earth, sun and moon,” “day and night like a turning wheel,” and “silently setting Qian and Kun in motion.” All describe the same principle: the body’s Qi moves day and night as Yin and Yang rise and descend. Related terms include the River Chariot, meaning the movement of Qi through the meridians; the firing times, meaning the timing and degree of regulation in cultivation; and the Yellow Matron, symbolizing the intermediary that harmonizes Yin and Yang. Different schools use different terms, but they largely refer to this same method of circulation.

Some call it “somersaulting” or “turning the heart wheel”; others call it “following the pivot of Heaven” or “the inner movement of primordial harmony.” The various classics repeatedly cite ancient sayings to explain it, and their accounts are consistent with one another. It is neither simply breath training nor something achieved through visualization; it does not use the arms to guide Jing and Qi, nor does it deliberately direct Qi along the spine with the mind. It is the fundamental method of harmonizing the breath, following nature, and preserving primordial Qi.

Yet people who cultivate the Dao in the world often favor difficult and elaborate methods and are unwilling to choose a simple, convenient path. Even when someone who has attained the Dao is willing to offer guidance, who is willing to believe it? The Secret Instructions on the Inner Guide to Penetrating the Mystery say that people do not favor the correct path: when speaking of the East, they prefer to discuss the West. Unless they thoroughly understand the transformations of Yin and Yang, they will find this teaching hard to believe.

At the juncture between the dark moon and the new moon—the moment when the end of one month meets the beginning of the next—practice should proceed precisely in accord with the tally, a matched token or rhythm.

People often dislike the true Way and speak of the west when the subject is the east. Unless they fully understand the transformations of Yin-Yang and the workings of Heaven and Earth, and see them clearly, they will not believe this teaching.

“Between the dark moon and the new moon” refers to the time before midnight on the last day of each month. In alchemical practice, the hours are converted into days, so this also means the transition each day from the hour of Hai to the hour of Zi. The ancients believed that the opening of Heaven and Earth, the conjunction of the sun and moon, the sprouting of plants, and the meeting of Yin and Yang within the human body all occur at this moment. When practitioners refine the elixir then, their inner cultivation can correspond with the outer cycle of time, fitting together like matching tallies: neither too early nor too late, but exactly at the center. Among the four virtues of the Qian trigram, this moment belongs to the beginning of “Origin.” In the twelve waxing and waning hexagrams, it marks the junction between the end of Kun and the beginning of Fu. It is regarded as an exceedingly subtle moment in the transformations of Heaven, Earth, and humanity.

In primordial chaos, before Heaven and Earth were divided and Qi had yet to differentiate, the Yin and Yang, the female and male, follow one another.

“Primordial chaos” refers to the time when the One Qi had not yet divided; “female and male follow one another” means that Yin and Yang mingle and move together. In the twelve waxing and waning hexagrams, this corresponds to the junction between the end of Kun and the beginning of Fu, an exceedingly subtle moment in the transformations of Heaven, Earth, and humanity.

Primordial Chaos refers to the time when the Original Qi had not yet differentiated. The Yin and Yang energies mingled and interpenetrated, still undivided. At that time, spirit and Qi gathered and merged as one: inwardly, one no longer felt one’s own body; outwardly, one no longer sensed heaven, earth, or the cosmos. It was as though one had united with the Great Dao, and all thoughts had vanished. This state is subtle and profound, difficult to name; it can only be called, for lack of a better term, “the One Great One embracing True Qi,” also known as “the Primordial Qi.”

The Cui Xu Pian says: “To refine the Great Medicine, one must rely on spirit, Qi, and essence, gathering them together and bringing them to coalesce. The foundation of the elixir is simply primordial Qi; once refined, it sprouts Yellow Buds and blossoms into Jade Flowers.” The meaning is that immortal cultivation has no other fundamental method: it consists in finding the Primordial Qi and making it the basis for refining the Golden Elixir. By applying oneself to cultivation, one can gradually bring its effects to light and attain a state comparable to that of perfected immortals such as Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin.

The Fu Ming Pian says: “Draw forth the Original Qi from before heaven and earth were divided; seize the essence-energy from the moment the Dragon and Tiger first unite, and bring it into the Yellow Chamber to refine it into a supreme treasure.” It also says: “In drawing it forth, be cautious and discreet; with sincerity, distinguish the true from the false. The hardest thing to find is the thread of intention within it; the easiest to lose is the Cold Spring.” The author worries that students of the Dao may cling only to outward techniques without understanding the primordial source of the Great Dao. They may also fixate on the literal meaning of “drawing forth” without grasping its true inner sense.

The Chong Zheng Pian says: “In the depths of a ten-thousand-fathom cold abyss, a black dragon sleeps; beneath its jaw lies a shining pearl. Only by being careful and quiet, and not disturbing it, can one draw forth the pearl; one must also practice in accordance with the appointed times.” “Drawing forth” means finding it without intention; “taking” means attaining it naturally without clinging to the act of taking. This is accomplished in stillness and concentration, not by forcing it through deliberate actions.

In ancient times, the Yellow Emperor lost the Dark Pearl. He sent Zhi, Li Zhu, and Chigou to search for it, but none could find it. Later he sent Xiang Wang, who did find it. Xiang Wang means “forgetting form.” Only by forgetting form and letting go of attachment can one obtain the Primordial Qi.

The Xiantian Yin from the Jirang Ji says: “A single expanse of the primordial is called the Great Void; only when the heart is free of concerns can one see what is truly pure.” It also says: “If you ask about the primordial, there is not a single word for it; only later cultivation requires effort.” These words are correct. Before heaven and earth took shape and before Yin and Yang differentiated, this was the primordial state of heaven and earth. In the methods of elixir cultivation, it is the moment of utter stillness, when activity has ceased and one returns to the root.

The Hunyuan Baozhang says: “In silent stillness, without movement, response can reach everywhere; from this one glimpses the workings of Yin and Yang’s creative transformation.” Indeed, when all is still and unmoving, the heart can communicate with Heaven and comprehend the workings of creation. The Cui Xu Pian says: “Do not seek the workings of creation in the kidneys; seek the primordial within the heart.” This is a profound and lucid teaching.

The Silu Yin from the Jirang Ji says: “Before thought has arisen, even ghosts and spirits cannot know it.” The Huan Jin Pian says: “Where even ghosts and spirits cannot peer, the Dragon and Tiger naturally unite.” To cultivate the primordial Great Dao, one must reach the state of utmost emptiness and profound stillness, without the slightest intrusion of thought.

When the heart is utterly still and all thoughts have vanished, rivers and seas grow calm, mountains disappear into the mist, the sun and moon seem to suspend their light, the heavenly bodies cease their revolutions, the Eight Vessels return to their source, and breathing seems to stop. Entering a deep and mysterious realm, one even forgets that Heaven covers and Earth supports, that other people exist, and that one has a body. After a while, the Qi of the Three Officials becomes full, and inner functions begin to stir; breath and sound then arise. At that moment, it is as though a sword cleaves open Chaos and two hands tear apart Primordial Murk. This is called “something arising from nothing.”

The poem by Master Zhuanxuan says: “It is neither amid the toil of the dusty world nor deep in the mountains; one need only keep seeking until one reaches the profound and mysterious realm.” This is indeed so.

Today, some people do not understand the foundation of the Great Dao. Some take true lead to be the primordial; others take “Heaven’s One gives birth to Water” to be the primordial. Still others identify the spark of awareness between the kidneys, the navel, the nose’s ancestral point, the gaze, or the circulation of Qi as the primordial. These are all partial views that grasp at incidental details; they are not the primordial meant by the Great Dao.

The Yi says: “Acting before Heaven’s time, Heaven does not oppose you; acting in accord with Heaven’s time, you must follow its timing.” To act before Heaven’s time is to follow the natural principles of Heaven, which even Heaven cannot contradict. To act in accord with Heaven’s time is to receive and respond when the right time arrives. Who but the most perceptive person in the world could understand and accomplish this?

The nourishing fluids are abundant, moistening the whole body and sustaining the movement of life so that it flows freely.

The Treatise on Returning the Elixir says: “Dark clouds hang low for ten thousand miles, and the breath of spring mingles; high above the nine heavens, all is clear and bright, as dewdrops congeal into blossoms.” This is a wondrous, penetrating scene. What could compare with it?

The nourishing fluids are abundant, moistening the whole body and sustaining the movement of life so that it flows freely.

The Treatise on Returning the Elixir says: “Dark clouds hang low for ten thousand miles, and the breath of spring mingles; high above the nine heavens, all is clear and bright, as dewdrops congeal into blossoms.” This is perhaps the true, subtle scene that appears when Yin and Yang respond to one another. At this time, Jing, Qi, and Shen reach out in every direction and converge, moving everywhere: above, they connect with Heaven; below, they coil around Earth. The scene is dim and indistinct, like mist veiling mountain peaks; hazy, like fog surrounding the water’s surface; like winter snow gradually crystallizing and gathering; like liquid gruel settling little by little until it grows clear. This is the scene in which Heaven and Earth meet within the body, and the union of man and woman gives rise to Jing.

When the moment is ripe and the movement of Qi changes, their mutual response flows freely. Suddenly, it is as though a wheel of fire scorches the earth; then, in a startling instant, divine water wells up from the mountain’s summit. Heaven and Earth are thereby moistened, and all things flourish in abundance. The Collected Poems of Jirang, in “Ode to the Indistinct,” says: “In the indistinct, Yin and Yang begin to change; Heaven and Earth join, and suddenly turn. How could words ever express the wondrous scene within?” Unless one has practiced personally and experienced it firsthand, how could one believe such a scene is real?

The numinous workings of Heaven and Earth cannot be fathomed. When Yin and Yang unite, spirits and ghosts seem to vanish without a trace: this is the manifestation of Heaven and Earth’s numinous workings. When the Dragon and Tiger unite, even ghosts and spirits cannot perceive them: this is the manifestation of one’s own numinous workings. Here, “Dragon and Tiger” are metaphors in Neidan (internal alchemy) for the interaction of Yin and Yang, Jing, and Qi. If one’s own numinous workings unite with those of Heaven and Earth, inner truth can respond to the outer world. In meditation, the Xun Gate—the portal symbolizing the entry and exit of Qi—suddenly opens. The Qi on both sides rises together and merges as one.

The Treatise on Returning to the Origin says: “Precisely where there is no form or image, in the indistinct and unfathomable, lies the root of long life and immortality.” Indeed, only by forgetting the body and clinging to no particular image can one hope to perceive it. If it could be obtained through deliberate visualization, meditative contemplation, or reasoning and speculation, it could not be called numinous and responsive.

Settle yourself well, conceal your traces, and keep yourself hidden.

At the transition from the dark moon to the new moon, the Sun and Moon seem to meet in the north. Their light fades and disappears. The methods of the Elixir map the hours onto hexagrams. They require practitioners, at midnight, when the Kun hexagram gives way to the Fu hexagram, to cross their feet and sit upright and still, as firm and motionless as a mountain rock. They close the mouth and gather the breath, settling quietly like a snake in hibernation. In this way, stillness and composure bring the body to rest, causing its form to contract and lie hidden.

At this time, one should keep the light within, remain silent, and draw the mind’s awareness back into the body. The breath grows slow and long, gradually returning to the root of life. With time, one feels as though one has entered a deep, dark realm, like standing beside an abyss whose depths cannot be fathomed. Then Shen and Qi return to their source, and body and mind return to life’s origin. This is the moment when the Golden Elixir’s liquid condenses. “Golden liquid” is a term in Neidan cultivation for the Jing and Qi refined and condensed through practice. The Cui Xu Pian says: “Qi enters the Dantian and nourishes the white crow; only then does the yellow sprout begin to form day by day.” “White crow” and “yellow sprout” are Neidan terms for the inner Jing and Qi refined and generated through cultivation. If the mind and spirit stir restlessly like a monkey, and thoughts gallop about like a horse, then Shen and Qi scatter outward. How could the Returning Elixir condense under such conditions?

Cultivation begins in the northeast, the direction of the Ji and Dou lunar lodges. The movement of Qi turns to the right, like the Sun’s disc sending forth a newly sprouted shoot. A sign appears within deep concealment, and the refined light spreads. Passing above the Bi lunar lodge, Yang Qi emerges from the Zhen trigram and becomes a sign. Yang Qi begins to move, as the Book of Changes says: “Nine at the beginning: the hidden dragon”—Yang Qi has just been born and remains concealed, not yet showing itself. Yang is established through “three,” while Yin is brought into connection through “eight”; thus on the third day the Zhen trigram stirs, and on the eighth day the Dui trigram moves. At “Nine in the second place: the dragon appears,” Yang Qi becomes visible, calm and bright.

When the stages of three and five have completed their virtue, the form of the Qian trigram takes shape. “Nine in the third place: all day long active, at night still vigilant” means that one must remain alert even as Yang Qi grows strong. The divine tally suffers a loss; fullness and decline gradually change, until at last things return to their beginning. The Xun trigram continues its lineage, and the practitioner must hold fast, harmonize, and consolidate. At “Nine in the fourth place: perhaps leaping,” advance and retreat alike are critical and perilous. The Gen trigram governs stopping and advancing, and one must not miss the right moment to act. The twenty-third day marks the period for waiting upon the first quarter moon. At “Nine in the fifth place: the flying dragon,” Yang Qi rises to the highest position and comes into its power. Six in the fifth place belongs to Kun: Kun receives Yang Qi, carries it through, and brings beginning and end to completion. It nurtures many offspring and serves as their mother through the generations. At “Nine at the top: the overreaching dragon,” Yang Qi has become excessive, and the virtues of Yin and Yang contend in the open country.

At first, the process takes place in the northeast, the region of the Ji and Dou lunar mansions. The northeast is where the firing process begins to turn. When the Moon moves above the Bi mansion, it displays the signs of the Zhen trigram; Zhen also symbolizes the beginning of the firing process. The Cui Xu Pian says, “There is a path by which mother and child divide and are born; its mystery lies among the lunar mansions Wei, Ji, Niu, Dou, and Nu.” This is what the passage means.

This chapter uses the six precelestial trigrams and the six lines of the Qian hexagram to illustrate the Moon’s waxing and waning, while weaving in the positions of the twenty-eight lunar mansions through which the Moon travels. These are all metaphors. Practitioners who have not yet grasped the key may become confused if they read these statements too hastily.

The changes in the firing process of Neidan cultivation resemble the Moon’s waxing and waning. On the third day, the Moon first shows a glimmer of light, as if rising from the area of the Ji and Dou mansions in the northeast, then moving to the right. At dusk, its first light appears above the Bi mansion in the southwest, taking the form of the Zhen trigram. In terms of the six lines of the Qian hexagram, this corresponds to the first nine, symbolizing the first stirring of one’s own Yang fire.

At the eighth day, the Moon reaches its first quarter and is half illuminated, taking the form of the Dui trigram. This corresponds to the second nine of the Qian hexagram, symbolizing that the cultivation of one’s own Yang fire is halfway complete. On the fifteenth day, the Moon stands opposite the Sun and shines in its full brightness, taking the form of the Qian trigram. This corresponds to the third nine of the Qian hexagram, symbolizing the fulfillment of one’s own Yang fire.

After the full Moon on the sixteenth day, the Moon begins to show its dark side, taking the form of the Xun trigram. This corresponds to the fourth nine of the Qian hexagram, symbolizing the beginning of Yin Talisman, the stage in Neidan cultivation that follows Yang fire and stands in contrast to it. On the twenty-third day, the Moon reaches its last quarter and has lost half its light, taking the form of the Gen trigram. This corresponds to the fifth nine of the Qian hexagram, symbolizing that the cultivation of Yin Talisman is halfway complete. By the thirtieth day, the Moon’s light has vanished, taking the form of the Kun trigram. This corresponds to the top nine of the Qian hexagram, symbolizing the completion of the Yin Talisman stage.

Wei Boyang used six trigrams to represent the firing process and matched them with the six lines of the Qian hexagram because Neidan is regarded as a treasure of pure Yang, and the Qian hexagram represents pure Yang. Among the six trigram correspondences, the third nine of the Qian hexagram says, “All day long, active and vigilant; in the evening, still alert,” symbolizing cautious watchfulness. The top nine of the Kun hexagram says, “The dragons battle in the wilderness,” symbolizing the conflict of Yin and Yang. In cultivation, one must carefully guard against danger, both when maintaining one’s position in the Qian phase and applying gentle fire, and when engaging in the struggle in the Kun phase and applying fierce fire.

“Applying the Nine” describes the patterns by which Yang Qi moves and changes, and the principles followed in cultivating the Dao. When the Yang numbers reach their limit, the cycle begins anew: as soon as one line has passed, the next takes its place, without the slightest error. Practitioners must accord with these changes, bringing things’ feelings and natures into harmony so that they turn and work together, rising and descending in keeping with the rhythms of the celestial bodies. This process circulates and transforms among the six lines, yet is difficult to see directly. It therefore has no fixed position; it is the fundamental principle of the Changes.

“Nine” is a Yang number. The Changes says, “Take three from Heaven and two from Earth, and rely on the numbers.” Taking the generating numbers of the Five Phases, the heavenly numbers one, three, and five add up to nine, while the earthly numbers two and four add up to six. That is why the Kun hexagram uses six and the Qian hexagram uses nine. In the methods of the Elixir, “Applying the Nine” means the nine turns of the firing process within a single quarter-hour, modeled on the pattern of movement in the Qian hexagram.

“Feeling” refers to the feeling of Metal, and “nature” to the nature of Wood. They are originally one thing divided into two aspects and kept apart. If one can grasp the pivotal mechanism of their movement, like the turning handle of the Northern Dipper, Wood and Metal can join with one another and cease to be separated. This is the meaning of “bringing feeling together with nature, turning so they accompany each other, following the celestial pivot, rising and descending.” The “pivot” refers to the hinge of the celestial bodies’ movement; here it stands for the key to regulating the firing process.

“Circulating through the six lines, difficult to observe” means that these changes circulate within the human body, concealed within Yin-Yang transformations akin to those of Heaven and Earth, and are therefore hard to observe. The six lines here are the six lines of the Qian hexagram mentioned earlier. By extension, the discussion can encompass six hexagrams or even sixty; all express the same underlying principle.

The Treatise on Restoring the Elixir says, “The nine turns reach the utmost mystery; when the furnace opens, flames burst forth and fly.” The work of the nine turns begins at the hour of Yin and ends at the hour of Xu. It is the secret of applying the firing process within a single quarter-hour, encompassing subtle changes such as drawing out and adding, advancing and retreating, bathing, and joining. That is why it is called “the utmost mystery.” If practitioners do not understand these firing processes, then even if they obtain the true medicine, they cannot refine it into an Elixir. This is why Wei Boyang did not readily disclose his method, but only hinted at its secrets through the Qian hexagram’s phrase “Applying the Nine.”

From this we can see that the Elixir of Return spoken of by the immortals is the Changes within the body, and the nine turns of the firing process are the Qian within the body. The Qian within the body has no visible line markings and no images or numbers to seek: face toward it and you cannot see its beginning; follow it and you cannot see its end. What fixed form, then, could there be to observe?

The first day of each lunar month corresponds to the Return hexagram, and from this point Yang Qi begins to flow freely. Yin and Yang Qi move in and out without obstruction, and the newly arising Yang Qi reveals a faint quality of strength. The pitch pipe Huangzhong corresponds to the Zi month, so signs of Yang Qi gradually become clear. Yang Qi spreads and takes effect, bringing gentle warmth and allowing the people to live according to the natural order.

When the Dipper’s handle points to the hexagram Fu (Return), which symbolizes the first emergence of Yang Qi, it corresponds to Huangzhong, the first of the twelve pitch standards. In the course of a day, this is the hour of Zi, around midnight; in the course of a month, it is from the first day through the middle of the third; in the course of a year, it is the month when the Dipper’s handle points toward Zi. At this time, Yang Qi has only just begun to flow. This serves as a metaphor for the Yang Fire in the body—the fire used in Neidan cultivation—just beginning to stir. Its force is extremely faint. The key is neither to let it run unchecked nor to suppress it, neither to hurry nor to delay it, but to let it move gently and warmly, spreading through the cauldron, a metaphor for the cultivated body and mind or the Neidan furnace.

The Chongzheng Pian says: “Huangzhong corresponds to the hour of Zi, when Yang Qi is just being born and the breath has only begun to change. The firing process must not yet be intensified. The fire should be gentle: neither too hot nor entirely stifled. One must always guard against the Dragon Qi being weak and overwhelmed by the Tiger Qi.” When the first line is active, Yang Qi has only just begun to flow; it should be moved lightly and silently, without force. Hence the saying, “Let movement in and out proceed without haste.” Yet it must not be too weak either: one should also stimulate the pass at the crown of the head and raise it slightly. Hence, “Set the marker with a touch of firmness.”

After this, the fire should suddenly grow strong, driving out true Lead—a Neidan term for the essential vital energy produced through cultivation. When it reaches the positions of Ji and Dou, the River Chariot, a metaphor for the path along which essence and Qi move within the body, must not stop; it must continue carrying them up to the summit of Kunlun, the upper region at the crown of the head. The Jindan Dacheng Ji says: “When the hexagram Fu stirs the hidden Dragon, the Wu and Ji energies should only be gently harmonized; for now, forceful refinement must be avoided. When the Dragon appears in the second line, the hexagram Lin reveals its powers, and from then on the furnace gradually warms. When the hexagram Tai arrives, draw on the Xun wind, which symbolizes wind feeding the fire, to refine with a fierce flame. Once Yellow Sprouts and White Snow—the refined substances produced through Neidan cultivation—have been formed, return them to the Way of Kun. Only then is cultivation complete.” The entire secret of the firing process is contained in these words.

When the hexagram Lin arrives, adjustments are made in the furnace and a path is opened, bringing forth light. Its radiance gradually intensifies, growing day by day. The position of Chou corresponds to Dalü, one of the twelve pitch standards, bringing the rises and falls into balance.

The Lin hexagram, made up of two yang lines, corresponds to Da Lü in the twelve pitch standards. Compared to the hours of a day, it is the time of the Ox, when the rooster crows; compared to the month, it is from midnight on the third day to the fifth day; compared to the year, it is the month when the handle of the Northern Dipper points toward the Ox position. At this time, yang Qi gradually grows, like the yang fire within the body slowly unfurling, and the ecliptic gradually brightening. Thus light begins to appear little by little, and the days grow longer.

By looking up at the celestial patterns, one can infer the Tai hexagram: Yin and Yang, firmness and gentleness, flourish together. Yin and Yang intermingle; Yin gradually recedes as Yang grows. Their Qi gathers at the Tiger position, turning in accordance with the times and following the order of the seasons.

The Tai hexagram, made up of three yang lines, corresponds to Tai Cu in the twelve pitch standards. Compared to the hours of a day, it is the time of the Tiger, just before dawn; compared to the month, it is from the sixth day to halfway through the eighth. At this time, Yin and Yang meet: Yin gradually recedes and Yang grows. Their Qi gathers at the Tiger position, turning in accordance with the times and following the order of the seasons. The twelve pitch standards were an ancient system for marking musical pitches and coordinating them with the seasons. Here, the hexagrams, hours, and days of the month illustrate how Yang gradually grows over time.

The Tai Hexagram is composed of three yang lines and corresponds to the pitch standard Taicu. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the hour of Yin, at dawn; in the course of a month, to the period from the sixth to the eighth day; and in the course of a year, to the month when the Dipper’s handle points toward Yin. At this time, yang Qi rises from the ground. This serves as a metaphor for the body’s three yang energies rising, gradually stirring into motion and moving upward. Practitioners should promptly set the “River Chariot” in motion—a Neidan term for conveying Qi—and send the breath back into the “Cauldron,” a metaphor for the place where Jing and Qi are gathered during alchemical refinement. Thus one must circulate in accordance with the timing and not linger.

“Circulating in accordance with the timing” means that once the firing process reaches this stage, it must not stop. However, the hour of Yin can refer to either the Yin of a day or the Yin of a moment. Langranzi’s poem says, “Swallow the saliva a thousand times over; keep in mind for the long term the method of preserving Shen; wait for the fifth watch.” This refers to the hour of Yin in the course of a day. The Collection of the Great Accomplishments of the Golden Elixir says, “When the Three Yangs meet and the Tai Hexagram appears, the wondrous method of advancing the fire may be carried out.” This refers to the brief hour of Yin within the process of cultivation. People may know of the daily hour of Yin, determined by the time of day. But the momentary hour of Yin, corresponding to changes in the body’s internal firing process, is a secret of Neidan cultivation. Alchemical texts, past and present, have not dared to state it plainly. As the saying goes, among ten thousand people, only one or two know it. Truly, this is mysterious.

Next, one gradually passes through the Great Strength Hexagram, and yang Qi reaches the Mao position. The elm’s seed pods fall, and things return to their roots. Yin and yang restrain one another, and day and night begin from this point to approach an even balance.

The Great Strength Hexagram is composed of four yang lines and corresponds to the pitch standard Jiazhong. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the hour of Mao, at sunrise; in the course of a month, to the period from the middle of the eighth day to the tenth; and in the course of a year, to the month when the Dipper’s handle points toward Mao. At this time, Yin Qi assists yang Qi, and the myriad things gather, grow, and emerge. This serves as a metaphor for the yang fire in the body reaching the midpoint of its course, with the breath and firing process settling into balance. Thus Yin and yang restrain one another, and day and night begin to balance. In spring, all things should be growing, yet the elm’s seed pods fall at this time. This is because Yin Qi is also contained within yang Qi.

In the Breakthrough Hexagram, Yin Qi withdraws and yang Qi rises and advances. Practitioners wash and arrange their wings, shaking off the dust that has accumulated over a long time.

“Ying” is a hexagram made up of five yang lines and corresponds to Guxi in the twelve pitch pipes. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the time for eating during the Chen hour; in the course of a month, to the eleventh through the middle of the thirteenth day; and in the course of a year, to the month when the Dipper’s handle points toward Chen. At this time, yang energy is already strong and presses toward the horizon. This is used as a metaphor for the yang fire within the body rising upward, hence the saying that yang energy rises and advances. “Cleansing its feathers and shaking off the dust of its old roost” describes the great peng bird, as it prepares to migrate to the Celestial Lake, striking the water and surging upward in flight, its force naturally stirring and gathering momentum.

“Qian” is vigorous, flourishing, and bright, filling all four directions. At the Si hour, yang energy reaches its peak, and Yin and Yang meet at the center.

“Qian” is a hexagram made up of six yang lines and corresponds to Zhonglü in the twelve pitch pipes. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the middle of the Si hour; in the course of a month, to the middle of the thirteenth through the fifteenth day; and in the course of a year, to the month when the Dipper’s handle points toward Si. At this time, yang energy is at its height, filling Heaven and Earth. This is used as a metaphor for the yang fire within the body reaching completion and the light of the elixir appearing. “At the mountain’s summit, the numinous ravine, divided into…” means that scenes such as the mountain summit and the numinous ravine are divided…