《黄帝阴符经讲义(夏元鼎)》

Preface to the Lectures on the Yellow Emperor's Scripture of the Hidden Talisman (Huangdi Yinfu Jing Jiangyi), written by Lou Fang, Court Gentleman for Managing Audiences (Chaosan Lang), serving temporarily as Prefect of Xinghua Military Prefecture.

In the "Treatise on Arts and Letters" (Yiwen zhi) of the Book of Han, Ban Gu catalogued works on military strategy in four categories: thirteen schools on strategy and stratagem (quanmou), eleven on terrain and momentum (xingshi), sixteen on Yin-Yang, and thirteen on technique and skill (jiqiao). Although each school is classified separately and devotes itself to a single aspect, their inner threads always run through one another.

Ban Gu says that quanmou is the art of guarding the state by orthodox means and deploying troops through unorthodox ones, while also taking in momentum, encompassing Yin-Yang, and employing technique. Seen this way, the four categories are in fact one school. Even so, Ban Gu placed momentum, Yin-Yang, and technique beneath quanmou; I hold instead that quanmou, momentum, and technique can all be placed within Yin-Yang. Between heaven and earth there is nothing but the changes of one Yin and one Yang. Quanmou has its alliances and its divisions, momentum has its dispersal and its concentration, and technique has its gathering in and its letting go; what brings these changes about is always the turning of Yin-Yang. Hence it is said: "One Yin and one Yang: this is called the Dao (the Way)."

When Fan Li planned the attack on the state of Wu, he was skilled at observing the patterns of rise and decline and of early and late timing in things, and he applied this reasoning to the growth of rice and crabs: the crab has no rice seed of its own, yet it multiplies by means of the rice paddy. Drawing on this, Fan Li worked out the momentum of the situation and defeated Wu in a single stroke. He used this method to take another man's state, and he used it as well to plan for his own family. This is precisely the principle expressed in the saying, "The achievements of later generations begin with the planning of their forebears." He moved with the swiftness of a fierce beast or bird of prey. Was this not the working of Yin-Yang transformation? Quanmou, momentum, and technique all operated within it.

Among those of old who excelled at using troops, none failed to understand the changes of Yin-Yang. Fenghou's (said to have been a minister of the Yellow Emperor) "Grasping the Odd" formation, the Eight Formations diagram of Marquis Wu of Zhuge (Zhuge Liang), and the "Void and Solitary" methods and divination of the weather and omens used by Duke Li of Wei (Li Jing, a famed general of the Tang) are all striking examples of Yin-Yang applied to warfare, and they contain momentum and technique as well.

There are examples that go further still. Marquis Zhang of Liu (Zhang Liang) once knelt beneath the Yi Bridge to receive a book from an old man. Su Dongpo sharply refuted this story, asking how one could know that there were no reclusive gentlemen in the Qin era. I too would ask: how can one know that there were no immortals in the Qin era? Perhaps Zhang Liang simply happened to meet that old man.

The Yinfu jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) is traditionally attributed to the Yellow Emperor. Its language is so archaic and obscure that readers struggle even to punctuate it, let alone annotate it. Master Xia Zongyu came from Zhejiang to Fujian and showed me a volume, the Lectures (Jiangyi) he had written. In his youth Master Xia traveled and studied with several elders of Yongjia, and he was especially fond of this text, yet had never fully understood it. Later, when he reached Shangrao, he silently prayed: "I have not yet ascended the Dragon-and-Tiger Roll of examination success; let me first ascend Dragon-Tiger Mountain." That night he had a strange dream, and afterward he met a lofty man on the summit of Zhurong Peak, from whom he seemed to receive transmission. When he took up the text again, he divided the chapters, punctuated the lines, and analyzed it sentence by sentence; whatever he set down with his brush became a lecture, as though spirits were quietly helping him.

Could this have been written the way worldly commentators annotate the classics, by imitating older explanations and guessing at the meaning of the words? There must have been something he grasped naturally, an unspoken accord with the meaning of the scripture.

Still, neither the art of war nor the Way of the immortals is easy to explain clearly. When speaking of warfare, one easily slips into deceit and endless shifting; when speaking of immortals, one easily slips into vagueness and absurdity. Must the Way of the immortals be sought from outside? So long as one's own self is clear and one's will and Shen (spirit) are full and spirit-like, the Way of the immortals is continuous with the art of war. One who understands the Way of the immortals can understand the art of war; one who understands the art of war can understand the Way of the immortals.

Zhong Mingyi (a Tang recluse) lived in seclusion on Mount Hua to the end of his life, yet his descendants produced famous generals generation after generation. When Yao Pingzhong was defeated in battle at the capital, some believed that he had withdrawn into hiding and had not died. These examples show that what the Confucians call the Way of the immortals lies originally within this kind of cultivation and conduct, not elsewhere. Those who read Master Xia's book should view it from this perspective as well.

Respectfully recorded in the mid-autumn month (eighth month) of the second year of the Baoqing era.

“Heavenly mandate” (tianming) is called “nature” (xing), and following one's nature is called the “Way” (Dao). The Dao is not something to be sought outwardly in some deep and distant place; the Way of Heaven lies within oneself. If one can thoroughly grasp and observe the subtleties of the Way of Heaven, one can directly perceive the Great Dao, without any need to make it elaborate.

What matters is to follow the Way of Heaven and never depart from it through all twelve double-hours of the day and night. Whether one speaks or stays silent, inhales or exhales, Yin-Yang (阴阳) opens, closes, and transforms. The sun sets in the west and rises in the east, and the qi (气) of wind and clouds seems to move through the seven apertures of the body. The qi of Kan and Li (坎离; trigrams representing water and fire, Yin and Yang) meets in the Original Palace (yuangong; the central region of the body spoken of in inner cultivation). Heaven moves the myriad things by means of this Dao, and humans likewise rely on it in their daily living and in their cultivation and conduct. Cold and heat come and go, sun and moon alternate, and the Way of Qian (乾; the trigram symbolizing strong, ceaseless movement) continues without rest, so its daily use is inexhaustible. Those who cultivate the Dao gradually come to realize that they are in communion with the Way of Heaven, and that the Way of Heaven is manifest in themselves. Hence it is said, “My destiny is held in my own hands, not decided by Heaven.” This is the principle meant by “it is complete,” to which nothing more can be added.

Within the Way of Heaven there are the “Five Thieves” (五贼; the five forces that bring about the generation and transformation of all things), and those who can see through them will flourish.

"Five Thieves" (wuzei) refers to the Five Phases (Wuxing). Human beings receive the qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) from Heaven and Earth, and within the body these Five Phases in turn restrain one another and rise and decline. Does this mean the Way of Heaven has no change? Not at all. When the movement of the Five Phases is reversed, the working of the great Dao (the Way) is brought forth: following the Five Phases in their ordinary course produces a human being, while using them in reverse serves the refining of the elixir. For example, Metal and Wood must join together; Water and Fire must reach "completion" (jiji, the mutual balance and harmony of water and fire); and Earth, flourishing in each of the four seasons, must still exert its effect by restraining Water. All of these are applications of the Five Phases' mutual restraint. The profundity of the Dao is so deep and subtle that ordinary people can hardly perceive its principle. Therefore, those who can see this principle will flourish; only with true sincerity can one understand it, and once one understands, inner luminosity will appear. When the mind is still like an empty room, brightness arises; when the spirit (Shen) is full, radiance appears. The scripture (Jing) speaks both of "observing the Way of Heaven" and of "seeing the flourishing of Heaven." The sage reveals the great Dao for people to see, yet the benighted often miss it even when it is right before their eyes, which is truly regrettable.

The working of the Five Thieves, the Five Phases, arises from the heart-mind and is carried out in accordance with the Way of Heaven.

The principle of the Five Phases and the Five Thieves is profound and subtle. The heart-mind is the master of body and mind and truly governs all things. What is meant by "carried out in Heaven" is that all these workings are set in motion by the heart-mind: the heart-mind is Heaven, and Heaven is the heart-mind. If a person can observe the Way of Heaven through a single heart-mind, they can glimpse the mystery of creation and transformation; whether in movement or stillness, rising or descending, it is as though they were moving at the side of the Celestial Emperor. Yet when it comes to actual practice, it is difficult to tell whether it is Heaven that is at work or the heart-mind.

The universe seems to be held in the hand.

The hand is one of the body's "Three Passes" (the mouth, the feet, and the hands, three key gateways), and students of the Dao should first understand its function. The Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) says: "The mouth is the pass of the heart, the mechanism of Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit); the feet are the pass of life, the gateway of the ground of birth; the hands are the pass of the person, holding the balance of flourishing and decline." This means that the hand can correspond to celestial phenomena according to direction and calculate the Five Cycles and Six Qi; firm clasping (wogu) nurtures harmonious qi, and a snap of the fingers can draw in transformation; taking the pulse and observing the complexion reveals the changes of Yin-Yang, and forming hand seals (juejue) is also held to commune with the responsive power of ghosts and spirits. All of these functions depend on the hand. The universe, encompassing the six directions, is vast and boundless; if one grasps the profound principle, it is as though everything can appear in the palm. The Cantong Xu (Preface to the Cantong) says that when one employs the yin tallies of the sixty-four hexagrams, the Heavenly Pass lies in the palm, which is precisely what is meant here.

All manner of transformations arise from oneself.

The human body is itself a small cosmos. Within it, Yin-Yang (yin-yang) rises and descends like the sun and moon appearing and setting; qi (vital energy) and blood circulate like the coming and going of the tides; breathing and the exchange of breath resemble wind and rain, light and darkness, thunder and lightning, and the gathering and dispersal of clouds. Sinews, bones, and the internal organs each have their place, like mountains and rivers spread across the land, and the growth and decline of the body are like the flourishing and withering of plants and trees. A person's movement and stillness, speech and silence, opening and closing all resemble the workings of heaven and earth. Thus the transformations of all things truly arise from here.

One who has the Dao (the Way) can let the vitality of all things flow freely; one without the Dao brings that vitality to a halt. A person in whom vitality moves freely is in accord with the Way of Heaven, while a person whose vitality has been cut off draws close to the realm of ghosts and spirits. How could anyone not cherish their own life and nature?

A person's nature is the manifestation of the Way of Heaven within them, and the heart-mind is the pivot from which change is set in motion and answered. Only by following the Way of Heaven can the way of humanity be settled.

Heaven and humanity issue from a single heart-mind, and the pivot of the heart-mind is continuous with the course of the Way of Heaven. When a person's original nature is obscured by the six desires and seven emotions (the many appetites and feelings), discriminating thought and karmic consciousness blaze like a raging fire. They can no longer tell what belongs to their heavenly nature and what belongs to the human heart-mind, nor do they understand the relation between the pivot of the heart-mind and the Way of Heaven.

The sages of antiquity, moved by deep compassion, set forth the meaning of this mystery: a person's nature is Heaven's nature, and Heaven's nature is made manifest in the person. This principle is seamlessly unified and cannot be exhausted in words. If one can grasp the inner pivot and respond to it fittingly, one will naturally accord with the Way of Heaven. The "pivot" spoken of here is not worldly cleverness or deceit. It is the inner hinge of change moving in keeping with the Dao: it shows no urgency, yet responds swiftly, and once set in motion it fits exactly, like two halves of a tally joining.

When a person understands this pivot, allowing the heart-mind to communicate with the transforming work of heaven and earth and to respond to change without losing its measure, the Way of Heaven is established in the person, and the way of humanity is thereby settled. This does not mean abandoning the way of humanity to set up the Way of Heaven elsewhere, nor first establishing the Way of Heaven and then settling the way of humanity. For the way of humanity is the Way of Heaven, the Way of Heaven is the Heavenly pivot, and the Heavenly pivot is our nature. What is meant by "preserving one's heart-mind and nurturing one's nature" is precisely this: a way of serving Heaven by following its Way.

When the season of Heaven triggers the killing impulse, dragons and serpents rouse from their dormancy; when the terrain of Earth triggers it, stars fall and vanish; when humans trigger it, Heaven and Earth undergo upheavals as if turned upside down. If Heaven and humanity set this force in motion at the same moment, the foundation for the transformation of all things is thereby established.

Heaven, Earth, and humanity each occupy their own place, yet life and killing both issue from the movement of a single Qi (vital energy). What is called "killing" in fact serves to bring about "life," and what is called "life" may in turn become "killing." When Yin accumulates to the point of contending with Yang, conflict is inevitable, and the scene of Yin-Yang warring between Heaven and Earth appears; this is precisely where the killing impulse lodges.

When Yin-Yang is in harmony and all things flow freely, if Heaven triggers the killing impulse to purge the Yin-natured, malign Qi of the lower realm, thunder rumbles, lightning flashes, and Heaven's might is made manifest. The dormant dragons and serpents have no choice but to rise, appearing when Yang is at its height. If Earth triggers the killing impulse and takes up the vigorous momentum, springs surge into waves and the Yellow River may even flow backward. The handle of the Big Dipper turns with the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang, and all things hide or emerge as Yin and Yang alternate. A person who can recognize such a moment can follow and direct the changes of nature, shifting the revolutions of Heaven and Earth, joining Yin-Yang in union until it reaches peace and stability, and letting life and killing each serve their proper purpose.

The song-formula of the Realized One Taibai (Taibai Zhenren) says: "When the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are turned upside down in their use, the dragon emerges from within the fire; when the Five Phases do not move in their usual order, the tiger is born within the water." This speaks precisely of the principle behind such reversals and transformations.

Yet the workings of Heaven, Earth, humanity, life, and killing ultimately all lie within a single Qi. Mencius said that he was skilled at nurturing his vast, flood-like Qi (haoran zhi qi), filling the space between Heaven and Earth with it. This does not mean that, apart from the human body and mind, there is another Heaven and Earth waiting to be filled with Qi. From this we can see that, when the one Qi moves, Heaven has no more of it than humanity, and humanity has no less than Heaven. When Heaven and humanity set it in motion together, there is not the slightest discrepancy; the subtle mechanisms respond to one another, and so transformations arise in endless variety. Once the foundation of the Dan Dao (the Way of the Elixir) is established, the Great Dao (Dao, the Way) will grow from it.

People's natural endowments differ, some being clever and some slow, and these differences can be gathered in and concealed.

Form, appearance, and outward manifestation are a person's innate nature, and every kind of skill and cleverness is revealed through it. Concealment and restraint mean waiting for the right moment, and the subtle workings of the Way of Heaven are contained within them. Only with such a nature can there be a corresponding opportunity. Concealment does not mean hiding forever, motionless, with the mind no longer engaged. It is often said that one should hold talent within while nourishing the mind and nature, waiting for the right time. This is precisely the essential secret of Golden Elixir cultivation.

Some people say that Yin lead (阴铅, yinqian) governs stillness and submission, while Yang mercury (阳汞, yanggong) governs flight and movement. They hold that the sage subdues Yang mercury and refines the Yin soul (魄, po), and that this is how the effect of "great skill seems like clumsiness" arises. This view is mistaken. When the Yellow Emperor speaks of skill and clumsiness, his emphasis is on nature; when he speaks of concealment, he means waiting for the right moment. This is because nature accords with the Mysterious Origin (玄元, the root of the Dao), whereas lead and mercury are bound by physical form and matter. So long as the mind and nature are luminous and the Yang soul (魂, hun, the spiritual force belonging to Yang) grows stronger each day, neither skill nor clumsiness can obscure it. One conceals oneself and waits for the right time; once the Heavenly mechanism responds, the innate nature is revealed. This is exactly the meaning of what Lü Dongbin called the "Seven Returns of the Returned Elixir" (七返还丹, a term from Neidan practice): the practitioner must first refine the self (炼己, cultivate one's own mind and nature) and wait for the right moment. To understand how to wait for the moment is also to understand concealment and the principle of the nature of skill and clumsiness.

The perverse and deluded impulses that arise from the nine apertures (九窍, the openings of the human body such as the ears, eyes, mouth, and nose) hinge on the three essentials (三要, usually referring to the ears, eyes, and mouth). These three can set a person in motion, and they can also bring a person to stillness.

The human body has nine apertures: seven above and two below. Any of them may become a gateway through which depraved thoughts and impurities enter. A student of the Dao who sees this clearly must gather in the mind and spirit (Shen) and carefully guard the "Three Essentials," so that no depraved thought arises, whether in movement or in stillness. What are the Three Essentials? They are the ears, the eyes, and the mouth. The Cantong qi (Zhouyi Cantong qi, a classic of Daoist cultivation) says: "Hold fast to the Three Treasures, and do not release them lightly."

The ears, eyes, and mouth are the key gateways of a person. Whether in movement or stillness, if one can guard them with care, the countless shifting sounds of the world will pass through the mind like flowing water, without seizing the hearing. The tangled array of sights will pass before the eyes like firelight, without clouding the vision. The varied flavors will be received like the waters of a marsh, without disturbing the spirit. In this way, one naturally keeps the heart clear and the Shen undivided, and in both movement and stillness follows the natural order of Heaven. Even if many depraved thoughts arise, they cannot intrude. How, then, could the thoughts summoned by the nine apertures affect oneself? This is the principle behind "do not look at what is improper, do not listen to what is improper, do not speak what is improper," and there is nothing in it that departs from the classics.

Fire is born from wood, and once the disaster is kindled, harm inevitably follows. Treachery grows within a state, and once the moment arrives for it to erupt, the state collapses. One who understands these principles and cultivates accordingly may be called a sage.

Wood can give birth to fire, yet in the end it is consumed by the fire. In the same way, if treachery and depravity arise within a state, they will eventually bring disaster and disorder. This is a calamity that inevitably follows from the natural course of events. One who cultivates the Dao (the Way) understands this, and so aims to let fire arise from wood without the wood being burned up, and to let treachery appear within the state without the state falling into chaos because of it.

This is like the desires for food and drink and for sexual union. They are fundamental desires that people have by nature, and one cannot abolish them entirely merely because they may have an evil side. If desire is left unchecked, a person may do anything at all; only when it is regulated by the Dao can wood and fire generate each other without producing harm, and instead turn into blessing. Even when treachery begins to stir, it can be restrained, kept from developing into depravity and disorder, and brought back to the right path. Is this not precisely the way of cultivation followed by the sages? It is the state of living in the dusty world without being stained by it, and of passing through life and death while remaining free of them.

Yet among the Five Phases (Wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the mutual generation of Wood and Fire has the strongest momentum. The body's Five Phases likewise have their waxing and waning of Wood and Fire. When one's true origin (zhenyuan, the fundamental Qi, or vital energy, of life) has not been depleted, Wood and Fire flourish and quietly resonate with the workings of Heaven. Ordinary people indulge this power and thereby harm their lives; this is to belittle nature and life (xing and ming) and let treachery grow. The sage, by contrast, refines and transforms it so that it becomes the Dao, which is to return body and mind to the right path. If the true origin declines, Wood and Fire are also extinguished, and the Way of Heaven suffers a lack; the human way grows distant while the way of ghosts draws near. How lamentable!

End of Volume One of the Lectures on the Huangdi Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman)

Composed by Xia Yuanding Zongyu, the Scattered Man of Yunfeng

The scripture says: Heaven has an aspect that gives birth to the myriad things, and an aspect that destroys them; this is the principle of the Dao.

When the season corresponds to Huangzhong (one of the twelve ancient pitch-pipes, corresponding to the time around the winter solstice), the myriad things begin to stir; this is Heaven's giving of life. When the season corresponds to Yize (one of the twelve ancient pitch-pipes, corresponding to autumn), the myriad things contract; this is Heaven's severity and killing. Heaven makes the myriad things grow, and it also makes them wither and die. Why is this so? Because within it lies its own principle of generation and destruction.

How can one know that human beings can embody this principle in themselves? One need only examine closely the changes of nature to understand that the generation of spring and the killing of autumn, and the alternation of Yin-Yang, occur not only in the four seasons of a year but also ceaselessly through the twelve double-hours of a day. If a person can grasp these changes, they can appreciate the wondrous workings of the Way of Heaven and comprehend the profound principles of the Dao.

Heaven and Earth are the medium through which the myriad things take from one another; the myriad things are the medium on which human beings depend for life and activity; and humans in turn also draw upon the myriad things. When the relations of mutual taking among Heaven and Earth, the myriad things, and humanity are in harmony, the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) can each settle in their proper place.

Heaven's Dao (Way) delights in giving life to the myriad things, and Earth's way nourishes them and makes them flourish. Humans are the most spiritually endowed of all beings, and the myriad things in turn serve human use. How, then, can it be said that humans "rob" the myriad things? Is it perhaps because Heaven and Earth are not benevolent and treat the myriad things as the straw dogs used in sacrifice, so that they seize the vitality of living things and do not let them flourish for long?

The five colors dazzle the eye, the five tones dull the ear, and the five flavors spoil the palate. In this way the myriad things wear down human energy and keep people from remaining vigorous for long. Axes fell the mountain forests, and dense nets sweep the ponds of fish. People boil the five grains and cook the six domestic animals (horse, ox, sheep, chicken, dog, and pig) for food. In this way humans draw on the myriad things and keep them from surviving for long.

Yet these three "robberies," by Heaven and Earth, by the myriad things, and by humans, silently consume and injure one another. People often pass through rise and decline, life and death without realizing it, and it is hard to trace where any of it began. The waxing and waning between Heaven and Earth and the myriad things is not in itself enough to cause great harm; the one who truly suffers is the human being. Why say so? Heaven and Earth give birth to and nourish the myriad things, and even when they are depleted, Heaven and Earth endure. The myriad things are taken for human use, yet they keep growing and multiplying. Humans take from the myriad things in order to nourish life, but instead fail to attain long life and are worn down by those very things, which is truly lamentable. Can people of the world grasp this principle?

Those who grasp it will know how to cultivate and guard the Three Treasures, Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). They will cherish the spirit pearl (the refined essence of one's inner spirit and energy) and practice "preserving the three and guarding the one," that is, keeping Jing, Qi, and Shen whole while attending solely to the primordial Shen or one's original nature. When Jing, Qi, and Shen are abundant, they condense into a radiant and blazing Golden Elixir (Jindan, the condensed state of essence and energy attained through Neidan, or internal alchemy). How, then, could Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things wear me down?

It is a pity that people of the world do not understand these principles. Living between Heaven and Earth, humans must rely on the myriad things, and for the myriad things to benefit humans, they must in turn rely on Heaven and Earth. This is simply the natural order. People have grown accustomed to this relationship and rest content within it, seeing nothing unusual. The sage was troubled by this and said: "The three robberies are fitting, but are they truly fitting?" This means that Heaven and Earth, the myriad things, and humans all draw on one another, and this seems reasonable, but is it truly proper? It is a sigh over how they harm one another seemingly without end. "The Three Powers are at peace, but are they truly at peace?" Heaven, Earth, and humans each keep their place and seem settled, but are they truly secure? This is compassion for how they rest content in a condition of mutual depletion.

The sage felt deep compassion for people of the world who do not understand the great Dao, who cannot break free from the constraints of natural transformation, who cannot seek life out of death or forsake decline for flourishing, and who therefore cannot accompany Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things to the very end. Alas, this is precisely why the Yellow Emperor perfected the Golden Elixir and ascended to Heaven, and why later practitioners of the Dao ascended with their entire households. For a person who has the Dao, what could the mutual depletion of Heaven, Earth, the myriad things, and humans possibly add to them or take away?

Therefore it is said: "When one eats at the proper time, every part of the body is nourished. One passes from death into life, abandons decay and turns toward flourishing, and is able to go through endings and beginnings together with heaven, earth, and the myriad things." Alas, this is precisely why the Yellow Emperor refined the Golden Elixir and ascended to heaven, and why worthy ones in later ages pulled up their dwellings one after another and rose to heaven with their entire households. How, then, could the so-called "Three Thieves" harm a person who possesses the Dao (the Way)?

Therefore it is said: "When one eats at the proper time, every part of the body is nourished."

A person is alive because the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind have come together for a time. The limbs, the hundred bones, the shen (spirit), and the blood and qi (vital energy) all depend on food and drink for nourishment; if the fitting moment is missed, there is no benefit, and harm results instead. How much more is this true of the great Way of the Golden Elixir (the Daoist path of neidan, or internal alchemy), in which gathering and refining have their specific times, and collecting has its specific days. The Golden Elixir is sweet as malt syrup and the size of a tangerine; once it is taken, one can ascend to immortality, and the sinews and bones become like gold and jade. This is the process by which blood turns into marrow-fat, fat turns into qi, and qi turns into shen, until one finally ascends to the Golden Palace (the palace of the immortal realm). How could it be merely a matter of nourishing the hundred bones?

"When the pivot within is set in motion, the myriad transformations are settled."

The creative transformations of heaven and earth are profound and unfathomable, and their governing pivot turns in silence and without sound; the human body is the same. If one can seize the right moment, no action fails to bring good fortune, and though the transformations are many, one remains secure and free from danger. If one misses the moment, one will inevitably fall into peril; how then could there be any talk of security?

People recognize that a marvelous phenomenon is marvelous in itself, yet they do not know the fundamental principle that makes it appear marvelous.

The marvelous function of spirit (Shen) is vast. Yet it may be hidden or revealed, gathered inward or spent outward, and this is where the sage and the ordinary person part ways. People of the world notice that in their conduct and replies, their speech and writing, the right words often come without any deliberation, and they take this for the true wonder of their own Shen. They do not realize that they are merely being pulled along by habit and discursive consciousness, rushing to meet the endless changes of the outer world, chasing after things and forgetting to return to the original mind, never at peace for even a moment. Alas, the brighter a flame burns, the sooner its oil is consumed; the richer a fragrance, the sooner its root withers. This only hastens one's own exhaustion. Why? Because too much Shen has been displayed outwardly.

Only the sage can turn the gaze inward and listen back into the heart, drawing in the senses that race outward, so that the mind and Shen are held within and never shown outside, to the point that even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom them. Thus the sage may seem dazed and vague, as if knowing nothing, yet within there is something real. The sage may seem deep and still, as if without any marvelous function, yet within are stored Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). This state of not deliberately displaying the marvelous is itself the supreme expression of the marvelous. If not one who has the Dao (the Way), who could achieve this?

The sun and moon move according to fixed measures, and each has its own appointed size and share. From this the sage's cultivation arises, and from this the working of divine illumination appears.

The Great Yang (Taiyang) corresponds to the sun, and the Great Yin (Taiyin) to the moon. The Great Yang belongs to fire and symbolizes the hun (ethereal soul); the Great Yin belongs to water and symbolizes the po (corporeal soul). The images of water and fire are plainly visible, but how could the transformations of Yin-Yang be bound to any fixed number?

The heavens span 365¼ degrees, with one degree corresponding to one day. The sun travels one degree each day and night, while the moon travels a little over twelve degrees. Because the sun moves more slowly, it circles the heavens once a year; because the moon moves more quickly, it circles the heavens once a month. The differing speeds of sun and moon act upon one another, and Yin-Yang depend on one another, which is why the lunar calendar has long and short months. Their calculation follows definite rules and does not change arbitrarily.

The human body also contains a sun and a moon, with corresponding degrees, but their cycle of one revolution is not a year. The practitioner can compress a year into a month, and a month into a single day. Within the twelve double-hours, Yin-Yang naturally rise and fall, and the hun and po nourish one another. By applying the work of cultivation, one causes the "Crow and Hare" (symbolizing sun and moon) to unite and the "Dragon and Tiger" (symbolizing Yin-Yang, or opposing forces within the body) to mate. One then stirs them with a force like thunder and moistens them with an influence like wind and rain. In this way one reaches the state of "the empty room fills with light" (brightness appearing when the mind is empty and still) and enters the "land of nothing whatsoever" (a realm beyond distinctions and attachment). The movements of Qi (vital energy) blend and revolve, and results are obtained in the span of a moment.

What is called the "manifestation of spirit-illumination" is not the descent of some mysterious external being. It is illumination arising from Shen (spirit), and Shen in turn arising from illumination: when the heart-mind and Shen are settled, one can see clearly; and when clear seeing is fully penetrating, the heart-mind and Shen become still more subtle and responsive. "Being within non-being" is the mystery within the mystery; "non-being within being" is the subtlety within the subtle principle. The transformations are myriad, so profound that they cannot be fathomed; the myriad images appear clearly, with nothing concealing them. This is called spirit-illumination, a state hard to grasp by ordinary reasoning. To match one's De (Virtue) with Heaven and Earth, and one's brightness with the sun and moon, is precisely what this Dao (the Way) describes.

People today merely recite the scriptures with their mouths and never put them into practice in their own lives. Worse, they treat talk of immortals as absurd nonsense, which is truly lamentable. They are like walking corpses, lost in the bustle of worldly affairs, believing themselves wealthy, honored, and happy, without realizing that life is like a dream, a bubble, a shadow, which is deeply sad.

The hidden, thief-like and unstoppable, trigger-like pivot of creation is something no one under heaven can see or understand. The noble person who grasps it can remain content in poverty; the petty person who grasps it comes to treat life lightly.

The comparison with the "thieving trigger" (dao ji) is truly subtle. What is meant by "thief"? It is that whose movements are hard to detect. What is meant by "trigger"? It is that whose momentum, once set in motion, is hard to stop. When someone slips away in the middle of the night carrying something on their back, that is the "thief," and who can know of it? When a crossbow is drawn and the arrow is about to fly, that is the "trigger," and who can hold it back? This hidden yet powerful principle runs through the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity and nurtures the myriad things. It causes the opening and closing of Yin-Yang (阴阳) to shift and change, and moves all as one Qi (气, vital energy), so that the crucial points of every natural transformation respond to one another. The common people live within it every day, yet they do not know it.

Only those who study the Dao (道, the Way) and grasp it can hold fast to "steadfastness in poverty." This does not mean merely staying poor. It means regarding wealth and rank lightly, not craving rich and abundant food, and delighting in quiet, plain simplicity and a frugal life. That is what "steadfastness in poverty" means. The petty person grasps it and, because of this, treats life lightly. This does not refer specifically to those who engage in warfare. It refers to indulging in sexual excess, losing oneself in sensual pleasures, drinking and gluttony, and squandering oneself in reckless displays of strength. All of these are called "taking life lightly."

Although "steadfastness in poverty" and "taking life lightly" show the difference between the noble and the petty person, the activation of the "thieving trigger" itself favors no one and belongs to no one in particular. It is only that the noble person understands its principle and uses it to remain content in poverty, while the petty person does not understand its principle and instead, because of it, treats life lightly. This principle is profound and mysterious, and so it must be transmitted through a sworn oath. Hence it is said that no one under heaven can see it or understand it.

Those who are blind often have keen hearing, and those who are deaf often have sharp sight. When one cuts off the external temptations on which a single sense depends, the effect can surpass that of ordinary people tenfold; and if one can practice this repeatedly, three times each day and night, the effect can surpass that of ordinary people ten thousandfold.

The blind cannot see with their eyes, and the deaf cannot hear with their ears; but if one simply discarded all sensory faculties, what use would sight and hearing still be? That is not what is meant here. People rely on the ears and eyes to perceive the outer world, yet end up burdened by them: sounds and colors crowd in confusingly before the eyes, and the impressions of sight and hearing stir and agitate the heart-mind. At such a moment, how can one know what ought to be master?

The blind cannot see, so their mind concentrates on hearing, and powdered faces and painted brows (that is, adornment and beauty) cannot disturb them. The deaf cannot hear, so their mind concentrates on sight, and clear, soaring songs and music cannot distract them. This is precisely the marvel of undivided attention: the mind is not scattered by external things, and the Shen (spirit) gathers and settles as a result. Cut off the pursuit of external gain, and the spirit fixes on a single root and has no stray concerns. This is the discipline of concentrating Qi (vital energy) and Jing (essence) and making the nature supple.

"Three reversals of day and night" means that the Qi of the three palaces (three important regions within the body, as spoken of in cultivation) rises and descends, going back and forth between above and below in ceaseless circulation. "Employing an army ten thousand times over" means that the power of the Shen can withstand heterodox demons, outer paths, and improper thoughts, so that they retreat without a battle.

When one abandons the pursuit of profit and desire and fixes the spirit on the root, all entanglements dissolve. With no tangled thoughts, the will is pure and sincere and makes no errors; this is the state of stillness without movement. At the same time, over day and night the three palaces cycle back and forth, and the Qi of Yin-Yang rises and descends with a rhythm that does not deviate in the slightest and never ceases; this is the marvel of responding and penetrating. Alas, if one does not practice this principle personally and test it in daily life, how can it be explained clearly?

Yet even "ten times" and "ten thousand times" differ in depth of effect. Why? If one merely shuts down the senses, leaving the body rigid and the heart like dead ashes, one may achieve calm and enter stillness, but may fall into the barren, withered emptiness and quiescence of the Buddhist side. Unable to move or transform, one ends up as a yin spirit or a "bitter, murky ghost" (a soul lingering in the shadowy realm, unable to be liberated). Hence the effect is only "tenfold." But if one severs greedy thoughts of gain and concentrates on the source, while the Qi of the three palaces circulates back and forth day and night, one naturally preserves the true nature and embraces unity. The movement of Qi circulates without cease, Heaven and humanity unite, and the resonance between them is so fitting that it seems miraculous and unfathomable. One then shares the De (Virtue/Power) of Heaven and Earth and the brightness of the sun and moon. Such an effect has no equal, and to say it surpasses ten thousand times the use of armies would not be an exaggeration.

In ancient times the Marquis of Lu asked Master Kangcang about the principle of "seeing with the ears and hearing with the eyes." Kangcang replied that those said to possess this ability were speaking nonsense: such a person can perceive without ears and eyes, yet cannot change the function of the ears and eyes themselves. The key lies in uniting the body with the heart-mind, the heart-mind with Qi, Qi with Shen, and Shen with nothingness. When this is done, nothing, whether a tiny object or a faint sound, whether far away in the remote lands of the eight directions or right before one's eyes, can escape one's perception. If people understand Kangcang's way of seeing and hearing, they will also understand the Yellow Emperor's way of the "deaf and blind." The principle within it is profoundly subtle.

Thoughts arise through contact with external things, and they fade away as those things fade. The key lies in the sensations triggered by the eyes.

The mind and the eyes are bound to one another, and the arising and ceasing of thoughts is drawn along with external things without ever stopping. Human beings are called the most spiritually endowed of all creatures, and every day they come into contact with all manner of things. When a thought arises, the mind attaches itself to some object along with it; when a thought vanishes, the mind departs from that object as well. The mind is not produced by external things on their own; the key is the sensation the eyes set off. Nor do external things extinguish the mind by themselves; here too, the eyes are the point of triggering. If, at that moment, one could not tell black from white, nor beauty from ugliness, the mind would be like empty space. How, then, could anything arise or disappear in it?

A person's senses are stirred by external things. On seeing beauty, love may arise at once; on seeing something repugnant, aversion deepens in turn. When desire grows out of fondness, a thought has arisen because of an external thing; when desire subsides because of aversion, a thought has ceased because of an external thing. Tracing it to its root, this is not the original state of the mind but the result of the eyes being stirred. For this reason, the sages of high antiquity had a practice of inward contemplation, and Daoist cultivators had the practice of gathering in the gaze so as to avoid disturbance from outer conditions. The Confucians speak of "not looking at what is contrary to propriety," and the Buddhists speak of purifying the eye faculty (keeping the eyes from being governed by greed and other afflictions). Their intent is profound, yet the principle to be practiced is not hard to understand.

Still, the blind also have likings and desires. Can the stirring of thoughts really be tied only to the eyes? This is why it is said that the mind and the eyes are bound to one another.

Huangdi Yinfu Jing Jiangyi (Lectures on the Yellow Emperor's Scripture of Hidden Talismans), Volumes 2 and 3. Composed by Yunfeng Sanren Xia Yuanding (a Song-dynasty Daoist and commentator on scriptures), styled Zongyu.

The scripture (Jing) says: Heaven seems to have neither kindness nor feeling, yet from this arises vast benevolence. When thunder crashes and fierce winds rage, there is nothing among the myriad things that is not startled and stirred into life.

Heaven has no deliberate intention of bestowing favors. The four seasons turn as they always do, and the myriad things grow because of it. Yet only after enduring wind and snow, bitter cold, and biting frost do the myriad things come to understand the principle of returning to their roots and restoring their destiny. From this we see that Heaven seems to offer no kindness, and yet its greatest kindness arises from precisely this. Moreover, in the days of spring and summer, when thunder rolls and fierce winds blow, the hundreds of plants and trees flourish all the more, and every living creature grows peacefully and smoothly. It is just as gold and treasure can only be refined in a blazing fire. Those who study the Dao (the Way) should appreciate this, understand the hidden mechanism of severity and destruction within the Way of Heaven, and contemplate it again and again: how life-giving vitality lies concealed within calamity, and how kindness comes to be through Wuwei (non-action). The Dao of Xuanyuan in high antiquity is precisely the teacher of Heaven, Earth, and humankind.

"Supreme joy leaves nature with abundance; supreme stillness brings integrity." When one's nature and feelings reach the height of joy, one has room to spare; when the mind reaches the height of stillness, one becomes upright and self-governing.

Emotions know sorrow and joy, yet the human nature can rest in supreme joy; desire always longs to accomplish something, yet the Dao takes supreme stillness as its foundation. Here lies the point at which immortals and ordinary people part ways. Students of the Dao should first take their own nature as their source of joy, letting neither the rise and fall of an official career nor gain and loss, success and failure, burden them in the slightest. Only then can they be detached and practice Wuwei. By cultivating and maintaining a mind of purity and stillness, they will naturally bring the heart into accord with the Dao. But if one is stirred by the seven emotions and the six desires, with sorrow and joy ever changing, stirring up misfortune at every turn and day after day caught in the net of the dusty world, there will be no day of escape. How, then, could one speak of the joy of one's nature, or of keeping oneself pure and still?

"Heaven's greatest partiality is applied with the greatest impartiality." The Way of Heaven seems to show favoritism in granting each of the myriad things its own endowment and life, yet in its operation and application it is utterly impartial.

The Way of Heaven (Dao) is, at root, free of partiality. Yet in the practice of the Golden Elixir, it seems to favor those who possess the Dao, and the heart of Heaven appears to have its preferences. Viewed from the very foundation of the Great Way, however, there is no selfish intent at all. Why is this so?

Human beings are born endowed by Heaven and Earth, and each has a measure of spiritual clarity and genuine awareness in their nature. Each also possesses the Samadhi Fire of non-action and naturalness (Wuwei), a term used in cultivation as a metaphor for the regulation of the inner true Qi; the Primordial Supreme Unity, meaning the originally undifferentiated source that precedes heaven and earth; and the Jing (essence) and Qi that contain the true. Whether great or small, noble or humble, immortal or ordinary, everyone has these. This is why it is said that the Way of Heaven is impartial.

But those who possess the Dao know how to cultivate and sustain these endowments. They can make the rising and falling of Yin-Yang each come in its proper season, and the union of sun and moon never miss its proper time. They can even call up thunder and summon rain, stir the wind and flash the lightning, as though they could turn Heaven and Earth around and subdue dragons and tigers. This is what makes it seem that the Way of Heaven shows favoritism. Through this, those who possess the Dao accomplish sagely merit, manifest divine illumination, and wield inconceivable wonders. Those without the Dao are the opposite: the rising and falling of Yin-Yang lose their order, the union of sun and moon has no season, and wind, rain, thunder, and lightning do not answer to them. If they do not spend their lives merely eating and drinking, they lose themselves in apothecary shops and chambers of lust.

Does Heaven truly favor those who possess the Dao and neglect those who do not? I see that those who possess the Dao can live long in the world, and even when their allotted years are spent, they can ascend as immortals. Those without the Dao are beset by illness and soon decay like grass and trees. The Way of Heaven seems the most partial of all, yet it is precisely through this that it reveals the greatest impartiality. Should this not serve as a warning to us?

Birds are able to fly, and the key lies in Qi.

All things in growth receive one Qi. Birds, though tiny creatures, can soar through the high sky, and it seems they rely on the beating of their wings and the lift of their feathers. But without the one Qi filling them, their wings would be useless and they could not take flight. Practitioners of the Dao who understand this should cherish and preserve the Qi of primordial harmony, meaning the original, gentle life-breath, and nourish their Shen (spirit) and Qi so that they become abundant and strong, until they fill Heaven and Earth.

Does the Book of Songs (Shijing) not say, "The kite soars to the heavens, the fish leaps in the deep"? This means that the hawk flying to the high sky and the fish leaping from the depths are both driven by the working of Qi. One may grasp this by reflecting on oneself, and also by observing the myriad things at a distance.

The Way of nourishing life (yangsheng) lies in preserving and conserving the primordial, harmonious Qi (气) of the prior-heaven, and in cultivating Shen (神, spirit) and Qi until they are abundant and strong, filling all the space between Heaven and Earth. Does the Book of Songs not say, "The kite flies up to the heights of the sky; the fish leaps from the deep pool"? These are all results of the stirring of Qi. From this we see that the principle can be observed nearby in one's own body, and verified far away in the myriad things.

Life is the root of death, and death is the root of life. Kindness arises from harm, and harm arises from kindness.

Whoever wishes to understand the transformations of Heaven and Earth must grasp how life and death are rooted in each other. Whoever wishes to understand the Great Dao (道, the Way) must grasp how kindness and harm turn into one another. How could these principles be explained without examining the transformations of the Five Phases (五行, Wuxing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the Great Way of the Golden Elixir (金丹)?

According to the generation and restraint of the Five Phases, Metal is born in Si and dies in Zi. Zi belongs to Water, yet Metal can generate Water. Can we then say Metal has truly died? Wood is born in Hai and dies in Wu. Wu belongs to Fire, yet Wood can generate Fire. Water and Earth are born in Shen and die in Mao. Mao belongs to Wood, yet Water can generate Wood. This shows that the root of death lies hidden within life, and the root of life within death.

Yet although this law of mutual dependence between life and death holds, the meaning of kindness and harm is somewhat different. The transformation between Metal and Fire cannot be measured simply in terms of life and death. The Longhu shangjing (Supreme Scripture of the Dragon and Tiger) says, "Metal and Fire are the true medicine." In the methods of the elixir, no principle is more critical than Metal and Fire. Fire is born in Yin and dies in You, and You belongs to Metal. Fire restrains Metal, but can it thereby generate Metal? Moreover, You is the place where Metal flourishes. Fire declines there, so it cannot harm the flourishing Metal, and Metal in turn gains strength and vigor from this. But Metal cannot grow by itself either; it must depend on what generates it. Only Earth can generate Metal, and Fire in turn generates Earth. Without Wu and Ji (戊己, the Heavenly Stems of the Earth Phase), the elixir cannot be completed.

Alas, the principles of generation and restraint among the Five Phases are profound and subtle, and few truly understand them. Those who discuss the Golden Elixir often merely enjoy talking about it, without probing its mysteries. Here they must be clarified one by one, to be handed down to later learners. The principles of both Neidan (内丹, internal alchemy) and Waidan (外丹, external alchemy) never depart from the transformations of the Five Phases. Why, then, is it not called the "Water Elixir," "Fire Elixir," "Wood Elixir," or "Earth Elixir," but specifically the "Golden Elixir"?

Heaven's One generates Water, and Kan (坎) is the position of Water. Water is the mother of the myriad things, so those who cultivate the Real should first turn their attention to the Kan Palace. But the Water of the Kan Palace cannot arise by itself either. Only Metal can generate Water; that is, the original, prior-heaven Qi is transformed and generated from Metal. An ancient song says, "Use lead, yet do not use lead; one must work within the lead. When the time comes to truly use lead, to use lead is still a mistake." Lead is the mother of Metal, Metal is the mother of Water, and Water in turn is the mother of the elixir. Such is the principle by which they generate and complete one another.

However, the function of the Great Dao lies not in generation but in restraint. Metal restrains Wood, bringing Wood to exhaustion. Wood restrains Earth, leaving Earth empty. Earth restrains Water, merging Water into emptiness. Water restrains Fire, until Fire is finally extinguished. Although Fire restrains Metal, Metal is not destroyed by it; after the smoke has cleared and the flames have died, the substance of Metal is only firmer than before. The Cantong qi (Seal of the Unity of the Three) says, "Metal cast into fierce fire loses neither its color nor its luster." Does this not show that harm can give rise to kindness, and kindness can come from harm?

This is why it is called the "Metal Liquid Returned Elixir," and also "long life without death" and "returning to the root and source." The key lies solely in the one true medicine, the "Metal within Water."

As for the liver, heart, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, and likewise Jing (精, essence), bodily fluids, Qi, blood, and humors, they differ in form and substance, yet their roots in nature and life (性命) are interrelated. The principles may be explained in words, but the way of cultivation is hard to exhaust in speech, for it involves the gathering and combining of the medicines, the mastery of the fire phasing, and the distinctions between true and ordinary, host and guest. The sages transmitted the medicines, but did not lightly transmit the fire phasing. Do not force guesses if you have not met a true teacher. Transmission is permitted only after a ceremony of blood oath, with Heaven and Earth as witnesses; it is said that whoever breaks the prohibition brings calamity upon nine generations of ancestors, with disaster falling first on the transgressor. Zhang Pingshu was punished three times for transmitting the teaching to unsuitable people, and his case may serve as a warning.

Dull people take the patterns and principles of heaven, earth, and the myriad things to be the sagely Dao (the Way). I, instead, draw wisdom from the patterns and principles found in the ordinary seasons and affairs of life. The wise can foresee what the foolish will do. I seek to be foolish no longer and to reach the realm of sagehood. People may set a time limit on that realm, but what I pursue is bound by no limit.

Sages, fools, the worthy, and the wise are not different at the start. They differ only in the breadth or narrowness of the heart and mind, and so in the heights they finally reach. Heaven, earth, the myriad things, and everyday affairs all have their patterns and principles, and these appear in all things with no distinction between inner and outer. One who can look up to observe the heavens and look down to examine the myriad things, restrain selfish desire, and hold to right thoughts can become a sage. One who discerns the principles behind things can become wise.

Yet the passage from folly to wisdom, and from wisdom to sagehood, is determined by the breadth of the heart and mind. If a fool can grasp the vastness of the laws of heaven and earth and keep them in mind while looking up and down, then reaching sagehood is not impossible. If I cling to the small principles of everyday matters and observe only within ordinary life, I can reach no more than the realm of the wise. The sage and the wise differ, and so do their thoughts in purity and defilement.

If a fool can become a sage in a single thought, Buddhism calls it "crossing directly to the other shore and seeing one's nature to become a Buddha," and Daoism calls it "gained once, gained forever; ascending to immortality from level ground." One lost thought falls entirely into folly, and one awakened thought can reach sagehood in its purity. The wise are different. At first they may seek the Dao with urgency, but later they grow slack and treat it lightly. If they do not strive to stay alert and guard against this, their thoughts will sometimes hold fast and sometimes let go, and in the end they will sink back into folly without realizing it.

What I long for is the realm of the sage, so how could I be content with the realm of the wise only to fall back into folly afterward? What I seek, then, is not merely to escape folly and become a sage, nor to stop at what is commonly called the supreme sage. If the sage's realm can still be given a time limit and a name, it remains bound by the workings of the laws of heaven and earth. I want to leave behind bodily form and the knowledge that makes distinctions, unite with the Dao, and stand alone beyond the myriad things. How could such a realm be measured by a time limit? Virtue (De) so great that it transforms and nourishes the myriad things is called "sage." When that sagehood is so profound that it is fathomless and cannot be exhausted by knowledge, it is called "Shen" (spirit). This is the Golden Elixir, the Great Way (the highest Dao pursued in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy).

Having said this, the so-called fool, sage, and wise show that cultivation begins by relying on the laws of heaven, earth, the myriad things, and everyday affairs in order to enter the Dao, and ends by forgetting those laws in order to attain the Dao. The transformations of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the endless array of phenomena are all workings of the Dao. Written words, spoken language, rubble, and straw can all become vessels for it. Every path of practice must be carried out in person, built up over a long time through unceasing effort, without forgetting what has already been learned, and its results may be tested within a set period.

Yan Hui could be called nearly a sage, for he could go a long time without departing from benevolence, while others could manage it only from time to time. As for Confucius, who brought together the achievements of all the schools, King Wen, who followed the laws of Heaven, and those whose realm connects above and below with heaven and earth, why would any of them need to be measured by a time limit? Those who practice the Way of emptiness and stillness say, "Even after ten thousand kalpas of practice, one still falls into nothingness in the end." They do not understand that even if the world is destroyed by the fire of a kalpa, one cannot say the Great Way has been destroyed, just as empty space is not burned away by flames.

The Golden Elixir, the Great Way, begins in Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, the source before heaven and earth divided and before Yin-Yang separated) and is completed in Wuji (the Limitless, a realm beyond form and trace that cannot be named). Its workings can appear within finite things, yet its wonder is inexhaustible. These principles cannot be measured by ordinary language and must be savored carefully by those who cultivate the Dao.

Plunging into water or rushing into fire is like walking toward death and the calamity of weapons.

Water and fire can burn or drown a person, and blades and soldiers can wound or kill. No wise person needs to warn us of these dangers; everyone knows to avoid them. Yet some people seem to throw themselves into water and fire of their own accord, even taking pleasure in dying beneath the blade. They are neither sick nor out of their minds, nor are they forced by circumstance, and so their situation is truly pitiable. Why does this happen? Wine, sex, wealth, and anger (indulging in drink, craving lust, coveting riches, and contending in pride and temper) are, as it were, other names for water, fire, and weapons. People sink into them as if bringing burning and drowning upon themselves, and yet feel no fear. They even mock those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) for living in quiet restraint, keeping fasts, and curbing desire. Even if such people lived as long as Peng Zu or Laozi (Lao Dan), they say, it would only be a lonely, bitter life, and how could that compare with the pleasures of wine and sex? Alas, it is like a moth flying into a flame: others can hardly stop it and can only sigh at the sight.

The Dao of nature takes clarity and stillness as its root, and for this reason all things between Heaven and Earth are able to grow. As the regular patterns of Heaven and Earth unfold in sequence, Yin-Yang (阴阳) wax and wane in relation to one another. As Yin-Yang advance and recede through each other, transformation proceeds in accordance with natural order. Therefore, the sage, understanding that one cannot go against the Dao of nature, follows it in handling affairs.

Taishang (the Daoist honorific for the highest deity or the great Dao) said: "The myriad things flourish and grow, and in the end each returns to its root. Returning to the root is called stillness, and stillness is called returning to one's destiny." It is also said that the transformations of all things are accomplished in accordance with natural order through this. Therefore, the sage, understanding that one cannot go against the Dao of nature, follows it in handling affairs.

The Supreme One (Taishang) said: All things flourish and grow, yet in the end each returns to its own root. To return to the root is called "stillness," and when stillness reaches its utmost, one returns to one's original nature and to the primal state of life. It is also said: "Bring the Shen (spirit) to the utmost emptiness; hold fast to purity and stillness without wavering. All things arise together, and from among them I observe how they return to their root."

When extreme emptiness and stillness are reached, it seems that one has returned to the soft and receptive Yin, so from where do the myriad things arise? Yet if Yin-Yang is not fully developed in its Yin, the Yang cannot begin to sprout; if stillness does not reach its limit, the Dao (the Way) cannot manifest. Moreover, the great Dao has no form, yet it can generate Heaven and Earth; the great Dao has no name, yet it nourishes the myriad things. If one did not model oneself on nature and abide in utmost stillness, Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things could not come into being. Human beings take part in the transformations of Heaven, Earth, and all things, so how could they not understand the principle of "stillness"? Yet the human mind is scattered and restless, like a monkey or a galloping horse, indulging all day in profit and desire. When such a person looks at the way Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things come into being and change, what relevance do they imagine it has to themselves?

The principle by which Heaven and Earth move gradually seeps in and unfolds. Yang qi (Qi, vital energy) develops step by step from one Yang line to six, and Yin qi likewise develops from one Yin line to six. All of this growth is gradual, and nothing advances to its extreme all at once. Yin and Yang shift into one another, always following the natural order. Only the sage understands this, and therefore can accomplish things within Wuwei (non-action), and can preserve utmost stillness within the greatest movement and change, allowing Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things to arise from the root of stillness. Were it not for one who possesses the Dao, who could understand this principle?

The Dao of utmost stillness cannot be fully matched even by calendrical calculation. This is the case with birds, beasts, and the like.

The calendar is used to calculate the seasons of Heaven, with its seventy-two pentads, twenty-four solar terms, four seasons, and eight seasonal junctures. Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things arise from the root of stillness; were it not for one who possesses the Dao, who could understand this principle?

The Dao of utmost stillness cannot be fully matched even by calendrical calculation. This is the case with birds, beasts, and the like.

The calendar is used to calculate the patterns of the heavenly bodies' movements. It includes the seventy-two pentads (hou), the twenty-four solar terms, the four seasons and eight divisions of the year, as well as the last day of the month (hui), the new moon (shuo), the first-quarter moon, and the full moon. All of these follow fixed measures and regularities that cannot be violated. Yet regulating the calendar and distinguishing the seasons requires meticulous calculation, which seems at odds with the principle of naturalness and Wuwei (non-action). The Dao (the Way) attained by the sage is utterly tranquil, and the sage's mind is like the great void. The rising and falling of Yin-Yang and the course of all transformations unfold of themselves, without the slightest trace of human contrivance. If one calculated everything as in the making of a calendar, would this not become the way of "birds and beasts" of which the scripture (Jing) speaks?

Here, "birds and beasts" refers to the crow and the hare, that is, the sun and the moon. The sun and moon correspond to fire and water, fire and water correspond to Yin-Yang, and Yin-Yang correspond to Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth, in turn, return in the end to the great Dao of clarity, stillness, Wuwei, and following nature. This great Dao is the learning that exhaustively investigates the principles of things and fully illuminates one's nature, and so comes to know the root of life. The study of nature and life (xing and ming) concerns the methods of longevity and immortality and of cultivating the Golden Elixir.

Thus, between Heaven and Earth there is a wondrous law, from which the myriad phenomena are generated. Within the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the sexagenary cycle of jiazi lies a subtle mechanism, along with hidden transformations that are hard to perceive. The principle by which Yin-Yang restrain one another, wax and wane, and change into one another has already been clearly revealed in the various images and omens.

How vast the Dao (the Way) is, and how subtle words can be! The Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) consists entirely of secret teachings by the Yellow Emperor, who used them to illuminate the great Dao. In presuming to explain its meaning, I feel as though I am divulging heavenly secrets. Looking back now at the closing lines, I see that they sum up both the beginning and the end of the whole text, just as the Commentary on the Judgments (Tuanci) in the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) summarizes the general meaning of the sixty-four hexagrams. These words probe what is deep and hidden and reach toward distant principles; they are not easy to fathom, and truly they are subtle! I have read them with reverence, tried to grasp them with care, and done my best to explain them clearly.

The great Way of the Golden Elixir (the Daoist path of Neidan, or internal alchemy) has its own special instruments within the human body, and there is no need to actually cast or smelt anything. The "Crescent-Moon Furnace" (the furnace of internal alchemy) is the "Stove of the Supreme One" (a stove symbolizing cultivation and nourishment). The "cauldron with neither inside nor outside" (a symbol of the vessel in body and mind that holds the work of cultivation) and the "medicine of utmost numinosity and sanctity" (a symbol of the refined substance gained through cultivation) can all give birth to the myriad phenomena, and everything arises of itself. Lü Dongbin said, "A single grain of millet holds a whole world; a three-pint pot boils mountains and rivers." Could this be empty talk?

Therefore, when explained through the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), Kan and Li (the trigrams representing water and fire) are the foundation; when explained through the celestial cycle (the revolution of the heavens or of qi through a full circuit), the Zi hour (midnight) is the beginning. When the movement of Qi (vital energy) is set in motion, its transformations are wondrous and its uses have no fixed bounds; when it lies hidden, its appearing and vanishing cannot be measured. When Yin (Yin-Yang) prevails over Yang, water and fire reach "Jiji" (completion, the state in which water and fire meet and are harmonized); when Yang prevails over Yin, the sun and moon come together like paired jade discs (a perfect union of the two). The Golden Crow (a symbol of the sun or of Yang) can subdue the Jade Rabbit (a symbol of the moon or of Yin), and the Wood Dragon has the power to subdue the White Tiger (a symbol of an opposing force). The tortoise and snake entwining their necks, and the clam holding its pearl, are likewise images of the union of Yin and Yang. These celestial signs and omens appear so plainly that they can hardly be concealed.

Does this not mean that when what is within is full, it shines forth, and this is called "great"; when greatness is vast enough to transform and nurture all things, this is called "sage"; and when sageliness is so wondrous that it cannot be fathomed, this is called "Shen" (spirit)? This principle also lies within the proper province of Confucian teaching. Shallow-minded people dismiss the Golden Elixir as heterodox and false doctrine, like someone sitting at the bottom of a well looking up at the sky and declaring it small. If the sky seems small, is that the fault of the sky?

End of Volume Three of Lectures on the Yellow Emperor's Scripture of the Hidden Talisman

Xia Yuanding, the Scattered Man of Cloud Peak (Yunfeng Sanren), said: Who can go in and out without passing through a gate? And how can a person act without following this principle? The function of a gate is to close and open the passage between outside and inside; with a checkpoint in place, a person can walk the proper path. Without a checkpoint to restrain them, people easily slip into reckless behavior and develop habits of deviance and excess.

Thus the human body has three inner passes, in which nature (xing) is the master and Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) are the root. In cultivation, one must constantly draw the mind and spirit back inward and not let them scatter outward. The body also has three outer passes, with the mouth as the pivot and the ears and eyes as the lock and key. The saying "the deviations of the nine orifices lie in the three essentials" means that the nine orifices of the body are easily disturbed by external things, and the key lies in restraining the mouth, ears, and eyes. All of these are methods of cultivation for carrying out the Doctrine of the Mean in daily life.

The Dao (the Way) is like a broad highway; how could anyone not travel along it? When its principles are shallow, even women and children can understand them; at their most profound, even sages may not fully know them. As the Doctrine of the Mean says: what can be expressed in song is called "good"; what one personally embodies is called "trustworthy"; what is cultivated to fullness and shines forth in radiance is called "great"; what moves from greatness to quiet, transforming influence is called "sage"; and when the sage's wonder passes beyond what can be fathomed, it is called "Shen" (spirit). The "Shen" spoken of here is the realm of luminous awareness and inexhaustible subtle function, able to manifest transformation and penetrate the divine mystery. It is also the secret essence of the cultivation of the Golden Elixir.

Diagram of the Sun and Moon's Sacred Work

Yunfeng said: The law governing the movement of Heaven and Earth is the alternation of Yin-Yang, with Primordial Qi (元炁, the root energy between Heaven and Earth) working in concert to give rise to the myriad things. Of all the images in the heavens, none is brighter or more prominent than the sun and moon.

The sun belongs to True Fire. It corresponds to the southeast and resonates with Wood, from which it is born; it matches spring and summer and causes the myriad things to grow. The moon belongs to Supreme Yin True Water. It corresponds to the northwest and resonates with Metal, from which it grows; it brings about autumnal severity, when the myriad things wither. The sun and moon are therefore the key to the generation and the culling of Heaven and Earth, and so they are also called Water and Fire, Kan and Li, lead and mercury, dragon and tiger, and by many other names, all of which are only alternative names for the sun and moon.

The sages observed the Way of Heaven (Dao) and examined the waxing and waning of the sun's and moon's qi dynamics. Understanding the subtle changes within them, they assigned the two qi of sun and moon to the Bagua (Eight Trigrams): the sun, as fire, takes the number two, and the moon, as water, takes the number one. Once one and two were distinguished, the hexagram qi (卦气) of each became distinct, and this was further developed into the sixty-four hexagrams.

In the first half of the month, the Kun hexagram gives rise to Zhen, which then changes into Dui, and Dui in turn becomes Qian. When Qian's qi is full, the sun and moon hang high and shine upon the east. The qi of Metal and Water is mild and abundant, and once the Metal qi reaches a certain degree, True Water is naturally born.

In the second half of the month, Qian gradually diminishes into Xun, Xun then becomes Gen, and Gen diminishes further into Kun. When Qian and Kun unite, the sun and moon meet in conjunction, and their subtlety and mystery are beyond conception. Even human beings, the myriad things, ghosts and spirits, and all manner of strange beings undergo transformations that are all influenced by it, and none can hide from it in the slightest.

The sun and moon are truly the root of the movement of Heaven and Earth! If a person can thoroughly understand the sacred and wondrous workings contained in the movements of the sun and moon, observe the changes of the lunar phases (the dark moon, the new moon, the first quarter, the full moon), and cultivate in accordance with the celestial signs, then they can employ the Way of transformation together with Heaven, Earth, sun, and moon. How could such a person fail to transcend the ordinary world, enter the realm of the sages, depart from death, and regain the vital spark of life?

Illustrated Explanations of Rare Devices and Myriad Phenomena (《奇器万象图说》)

Yunfeng cites the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman), which says: "Between Heaven and Earth there is a marvelous instrument, from which the myriad things and all phenomena are generated. Within the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the sixty-year sexagenary cycle lies a wondrous mechanism of movement, which also conceals the mysteries by which ghosts and spirits transform." These words reach far. The human body is itself such a marvelous instrument. All the phenomena of Heaven and Earth are contained within it, and spirits and deities guard it, so it may be called supremely precious. Taishang (the Most High) said that a human body is hard to obtain, that being born in the Central Land (here meaning a place suited to cultivating the Dao) is hard to obtain, and that even once born, encountering the true teaching is not easy. Zhang Boduan (a Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) master, styled Pingshu) said: "First take Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang) as the cauldron, then refine with the medicine of the Crow and the Hare." The Crow and the Hare stand for the sun and moon, and often symbolize Yin-Yang. Does this mean one must leave oneself behind, seek Qian and Kun in some distant void, and then gather the Crow and Hare from the palaces of the sun and moon?

From this we can see that the marvelous instrument lies within the human body, and that all phenomena are present within oneself. The two forms of Heaven and Earth, the three luminaries of sun, moon, and stars, the four images, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the Bagua, the Nine Palaces, the ten heavenly stems, the eleven luminaries (the sun, moon, five planets, and other celestial bodies), the twelve earthly branches, the twenty-four solar terms, and the full cycle of sixty jiazi, can all find their correspondences within the human body. If one can observe Heaven and Earth and examine oneself, bringing one's own movements into accord with the Yin-Yang operations of Heaven and Earth, one can unite with the profound workings of creation and reach a state that even ghosts and spirits find hard to fathom. When a person stands together with Heaven, Earth, and Yin-Yang as one of the Three Powers, they may enjoy long life and lasting vision. The path of the immortals is not far away.

Illustrated Explanation of the Unity of the Three Teachings

Yunfeng says: Although Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism follow different roads, in the end they return to one place. Only those who recklessly create distinctions tear them apart. Some hold that the principle of emptiness and nothingness spoken of in Buddhism and Daoism cannot be compared with Confucianism, and there is some truth in this. From the standpoint of establishing human ethical norms and responding to the changes of the world, the teachings of the three are indeed not the same. But how great can the distance between them really be?

Yunfeng says: The three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism walk different paths yet arrive at the same place; only the deluded draw distinctions among them. Some say that Buddhism and Daoism speak of emptiness and nothingness and cannot be compared with Confucianism. There is some truth in this: the Confucian teachings on establishing oneself and responding to the changes of the world do differ from those of the other two. But when it comes to cultivating truth and nurturing one's nature, rectifying the heart, and making one's intentions sincere, there is no clear boundary among the three.

The Chan (Zen) school, however, is rather special and often seems vague and abstruse. I wanted to dispel the confusion surrounding it but could never find the key. One day I went to the venerable Mengan Cong to ask about the principles of Chan and the essentials of the transmission of the lamp, and we debated back and forth at length. Mengan said in essence: "The Dharmakaya (the true body of the Buddha) is emptiness, and emptiness is the Dharmakaya." Mengan urged me to investigate and reflect on this, and even lit incense and candles, taking the Three Jewels of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha as witnesses.

Before long the tea was finished. Mengan suddenly called an attendant to run an errand, then rose and went with me to the pure chamber at the back. On returning, Mengan washed hands, trimmed fingernails, and straightened the square robe (the rectangular garment worn by monks), then invited me back to my seat and said that the old monk was a little hungry and asked me to join in a meal of noodle soup. I then challenged Mengan: "Just now you taught me that emptiness is the Dharmakaya and the Dharmakaya is emptiness. Yet now you cannot escape hunger and thirst, and you still distinguish the clean from the unclean. If you say that within emptiness nothing can be told apart, how do you explain this?" Mengan was stunned and could not answer for a while.

When we reached the abbot's quarters, I saw a copy of the Recorded Sayings of Xuedou and took the chance to leaf through it. It records that a monk asked Master Zhiwen: "What is the substance of prajna?" The master replied: "The clam holds the autumn moon." The monk asked again: "What is the function of prajna?" The master replied: "The hare is with young." This not only governs the world but can also bring peace to a state.

If one can investigate this well, one can walk alone and transcendent in the lofty realm. Another monk asked: "What lies beyond the Buddha-Dharma?" The master replied: "Lift the sun and moon with the tip of a staff."

There is also a patriarch who asked Master Nanquan: "People do not recognize the mani jewel (the wish-fulfilling pearl), though it lies hidden in the Tathagatagarbha. What is the Tathagatagarbha?" Nanquan replied: "What goes back and forth with you is the Tathagatagarbha." The patriarch said: "You are a rustic fellow." Nanquan answered again: "Not going back and forth is the Tathagatagarbha as well." The patriarch said: "That is only adding frost to snow." The patriarch asked once more: "Then what is the mani jewel?" Nanquan replied: "To show off one's skill at the top of a hundred-foot pole does not make a true master."

If one can see the crux here, one can exchange the positions of guest and host and enter dangerous ground without being trapped. If one cannot, then even a patriarch who claims complete awakening may begin with great vigor and end with nothing to show for it, having started but not finished.

So I offered Mengan a little guidance, revealing just a glimpse of the meaning to help dispel the confusion. Mengan awakened greatly on the spot, and later returned the incense to me. From this we can see that the three teachings are fundamentally not different; a person's original face is only one, and only the outer garments differ. I have therefore recorded this matter in detail to inform discerning people everywhere.

"Prenatal" (xiantian, 先天) refers to the state in which the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) has not yet differentiated and remains a seamless whole, when it is still impossible to tell what is Yang and what is Yin. Once the Dao gives rise to "the One," the form of the whole has been revealed and its function begins to stir. For this reason, "the One" is an odd number, corresponds to the Qian hexagram, and symbolizes pure Yang. "Postnatal" (houtian, 后天) is the moment when chaos first opens and the One divides into two; "two" is an even number, corresponds to the Kun hexagram, and symbolizes pure Yin.

Once Qian and Kun are distinct and Yin and Yang are separated, each moves and changes in its own way, so where, then, is the Dao? The subtlety of Golden Elixir cultivation lies in returning to the source and seeking the root: holding to the soft Yin while embracing the primal One, removing the Yin dregs and drawing out the Yang essence. The practitioner does not try to force Qian and Kun, distinct and separated as they are, to become the same or to unite. What is distinct and divided belongs to the postnatal; what returns to sameness and union is the prenatal. The prenatal is the ancestor of the origin, the original face of Yuanqi (primordial Qi, the Qi of the source), while the postnatal is form and change, an existence formed by the temporary gathering of the four elements (earth, water, fire, and wind, which compose the human body). If a person of insight can see clearly that the body is illusory and only the Dao is real, they should turn the spirit back, look inward and illuminate themselves, and begin cultivation at once, for even so it is already too late.

Illustrated Explanation of the Upper and Lower Magpie Bridge

Also called the "Curved River Crow Bridge."

Yunfeng says: In his Qinyuan Chun, Lü Dongbin writes, "Above the Qu River, the moonlight is bright and clear, and a crow flies past." The "crow" here is the "magpie," and the "Qu River" refers to the bridge.

Within the sun dwells the three-legged crow. The crow belongs to you (the Rooster, the tenth Earthly Branch), and you belongs to Metal. The crow is the essence of Western Metal and also the Yang soul within the sun, so it can fly across the bridge over the Qu River. This means that the magpie is able to cross the bridge leading to the realm of the immortals. But why must the bridge be divided into an upper bridge and a lower bridge? Because the channels of Qi (qi) connect above and below, whoever can cross the lower bridge will surely be able to cross the upper one. Those who can cross become immortals; those who cannot remain ordinary mortals.

What the Buddhists call the "horse-tethering post" and the "donkey-tethering stake" expresses the same idea. However, they cling to an established method of practice, sitting in stillness and facing a wall, and are unable to make the crow fly and the magpie cross. They therefore fall only into the second meaning: one who can cross the lower bridge can cross the upper bridge.

In truth, the methods handed down by the founding masters of Buddhism were not like this; their later disciples simply grew confused and misunderstood them. For details, see Illustrated Explanation of the Unity of the Three Teachings (Sanjiao Guiyi Tushuo).

Illustrated Explanation of the Seventy-Two Pentads

Yunfeng comments: The Yuanshi Miyan (Secret Words of the Primordial Beginning) says that within the indistinct and elusive, Fire can give rise to Shen (spirit); within the deep and murky darkness, Water can give rise to Jing (essence). Fire by nature is hot and rises upward, and through the "seven returns" it generates Shen. Water by nature flows and gathers downward, and through the "six transformations" it generates Jing. Seven and six transform into one another, above and below in accord, while Jing and Shen travel back and forth, so that the subtle body and mind come to contain the true nature. Shen, after seven transformations, produces true Fire; Jing, after six transformations, produces true Water.

Seven and six together make thirteen, and the root of this wondrous number cannot be separated from the Water and Fire of heaven and earth. Thus Heaven, with thirty-six Yang periods (hou), gives rise to Fire, and Earth, with thirty-six Yin periods, gives rise to Water; together they make seventy-two periods, and the numbers of the cycle of the heavens are complete. The Xianjing (Immortals' Scripture) says: "Above in heaven there are thirty-six, below on earth there are thirty-six, and the Great Mystery is boundless and without limit." Here, hou refers to the seasonal phases in which the movements of Yin-Yang Qi unfold; "fire phasing" (huohou) is the art, within cultivation, of mastering the changes of Yin-Yang and regulating Jing and Qi at the proper moment.

How marvelous is the Dadong Jing (Scripture of the Great Cavern)! It does not speak of the Five Phases but speaks exclusively of Water and Fire. Why is this? Because Water and Fire are the Moon and the Sun. The Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) says: "The sun and moon move according to fixed numbers, and each has its set measure, great and small; the achievements of the sage arise from this, and spiritual illumination is manifested through it." If a person can look up to observe the patterns of heaven and look down to examine the patterns of earth, and from them grasp the secret of fire phasing, then they will accord with the Virtue of heaven and earth and resonate with the brilliance of the sun and moon. One may truly be said to have attained the immortal Way on level ground.

Diagram and Explanation of the Generation and Completion of the Five Phases

Yunfeng says: The Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) divides and gives rise to the Two Modes, which are Heaven and Earth. Once Heaven and Earth have taken on form and name, they cannot avoid being bound by numerical measures. Thus the Heavenly number one generates Water, the Earthly number two generates Fire, the Heavenly number three generates Wood, the Earthly number four generates Metal, and the Heavenly number five generates Earth. The generation and movement of the Five Phases (Wuxing) run through the governing threads of Heaven and Earth; as the five kinds of qi (vital energy) shift in turn, cold and heat alternate, and the degrees of the celestial cycle can be understood from them.

The numerical allotment of Wood is made up of thirty-six days of Jia and thirty-six days of Yi; that of Fire, of thirty-six days of Bing and thirty-six days of Ding; that of Earth, of thirty-six days of Wu and thirty-six days of Ji; that of Metal, of thirty-six days of Geng and thirty-six days of Xin; and that of Water, of thirty-six days of Ren and thirty-six days of Gui. Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, and Gui are the ten Heavenly Stems.

Added together, the five groups of seventy-two days each total three hundred and sixty days, matching the degrees of the twelve months of the year. The remaining fractions in the celestial measure can be accumulated and used to arrange the intercalary month. Through this, Heaven and Earth transform and nurture the ten thousand things. Human beings are the most spiritually endowed of all creatures, yet they often fail to understand the principle by which the Five Phases move. They see only the cycle of day and night and the succession of the seasons, without knowing that the transformations of the Five Phases are in fact governing and driving it all from within. This is truly profound.

Illustrated Explanation of the Lectures on the Yellow Emperor's Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman), Fascicle Four

Preface to Yunfeng's Commentary on the "Mirror for Entering the Elixir" (Ruyao jing)

Written by Liu Yuangang, Left Recorder, Director of the Academy, Secretary, and Grand Master for Court Audience.

Xia Zongyu of Dongjia (the Wenzhou area of present-day Zhejiang) was gifted and of remarkable bearing. Xia once planned military and administrative affairs and served in a provincial headquarters, then drifted to posts in remote regions, yet fortune never smiled and setbacks came again and again. Later, with a broad and unfettered mind, Xia traveled far and wide, seeking the methods of cultivation by which one ascends as an immortal and returns to one's original truth. Xia then met a destined person who quietly transmitted the teachings, and went on to collect, compile, and annotate the relevant texts, and has now come to ask me for a preface to the book.

Long ago Su Dongpo observed that everyone knows Anqi Sheng was an immortal. Yet the Records of the Grand Historian tells us that Kuai Tong was on good terms with Anqi Sheng of Qi, that Anqi Sheng once offered Xiang Yu a strategy which Xiang Yu did not adopt, and that when Xiang Yu later wished to reward the two with titles, both refused and departed. Whenever I reach this passage, I cannot help setting down the book with a sigh: if such people do not count as immortals, who could? And so I think that Lu Zhonglian and Yu Qing of the Warring States period may also have been people who attained the Dao (the Way).

Yu Qing could not bear to abandon Wei Qi and secretly left the state of Zhao; later he was hard pressed in Liang and lost his chancellorship, and in his sorrow and poverty he wrote his book. Kuai Tong urged Han Xin to act, and when Han Xin would not listen, Kuai Tong feigned madness and posed as a shaman, fled to the residence of a retainer named Can, and afterward set out the strategy in person. Did such people truly understand the Dao? Probably they simply had no wish to hold office and held fast to a lofty integrity. Lu Zhonglian once persuaded the guests of Wei not to uphold the King of Qin as emperor, and also brought an end to the Yan general's hold on Liaocheng. When the state of Yan offered gold in thanks, Lu declined, saying, "What makes a scholar of the world valuable is that he removes calamity, relieves hardship, and resolves disputes for others without asking for anything in return. To seek a reward is the way of merchants, and I cannot bear to act so." Later, when someone wished to grant Lu a noble rank, Lu fled, saying, "Rather than be ruled by others for the sake of wealth and rank, I would live content in poverty and low station, hold the world's customs lightly, and give free rein to my own aspirations."

Alas, only someone like Lu Zhonglian may truly be called an immortal. In the histories and miscellaneous records, Anqi Sheng is mentioned only in passing, and the accounts seem fantastic and contrary to reason. Yet Anqi Sheng must have been like Lu Zhonglian, clapping hands in laughter and conversation, with a spirit like a rainbow arching across the sky. As for things that seemed unbearable, such as being made to sit at the bedside while being washed, Anqi Sheng would sooner avoid them; and rather than vie for victory or display the strength to lift a great cauldron, would prefer to drift away, leaving behind a lofty and refined example. From this we know that one who can govern worldly affairs may also rise above the world and depart riding a dragon, and only then does the matter make sense.

The three Golden Elixir (Jindan) works that Zongyu has annotated have a vision that transcends the ordinary world. They are indeed different from those writings of lasting literary flavor that satirize expedient scheming. What they set out to depict are people like Lu Zhonglian and Anqi Sheng. As for Yu Qing and Kuai Tong, they were merely persuaders and itinerant counselors, so how could they be placed alongside these two?

Written by the Mountain Man of Qiyun in Qingyuan, on the fifth day after Xiaoxue (Minor Snow) in the bingxu year of the Baoqing era (1226).

"Many strange peaks in the clouds of summer" is a line of verse from the Jin dynasty, rich in meaning. In lodging my illusory body within the equally illusory name "Cloud Peak" (Yunfeng), I am truly drawing legs on a snake and lengthening the neck of a wild duck. Some may think I am imitating the Grand Historian's fondness for marvelous tales, or borrowing a poet's clever phrasing to advertise myself. Alas, summer is only one of the four seasons, cloud is only a kind of Qi (vital energy), so where does the "peak" come from, and whence the "strange"?

Clouds emerge from mountain hollows with no intention of their own, and when they follow the dragon they leave no trace. They can turn into rain, yet may also cause drought; they can summon wind, yet may also bring rain. All these strange transformations, so hard to fathom, are nothing I deliberately pursued. Perhaps it is because the heavens are clear and the earth is calm, and summer has arrived, with the Flame Emperor (Yandi, the fire god and deity of summer in ancient legend) presiding over the season. The south wind arrives gently, the fierce sun steams upward, and a fiery parasol of blazing light spreads wide, until metal and stone seem to melt and congeal.

What is called cloud is not ordinary Qi, and what is called peak is not an actual mountain form. The Celestial Sovereign (Tianjun, the inner governing spirit), penetrating the deep and hidden, gathers his Shen (spirit) in concentration; the Bright Hall (Mingtang, the inner palace of the practitioner) opens wide, and he sits upright in the Purple Court. The radiant and illustrious Lord Ding (Dinggong, a title in Daoist practice associated with Ding fire and divine generals) refines the Golden Essence (the distilled essence of Neidan, internal alchemy). Vapors rise from Mount Kunlun, and the Jade Well is clear and deep; the Taiyi stove is warm, and the Crescent Moon furnace glows. Whirling winds blend and merge, roaring like thunder. Above, they reach the openings of heaven; below, they penetrate the hidden depths. The Four Beasts stand guard in ranks, together with the Six Ding (Liuding, Daoist divine generals) on the left and right. When the circulations of the celestial cycle are complete, and the nine transformations have been passed, one ascends and is accomplished.

At this moment, how could "Cloud Peak" be merely a curious name? The great Dao is profound and far-reaching, sharing its De (Virtue) with Heaven and Earth. The primordial ancestral Qi (the original Qi before the formation of the cosmos) had not yet divided, so where could there be any distinction between the heavy and turbid and the light and clear? When chaos first opened, Heaven, Earth, humanity, and the myriad things were born from it. Heaven covers above, Earth bears below, and humanity is the most spiritually endowed. The Dao moves through creation and transformation, nurturing all things, and endures unextinguished through countless kalpas. The sun and moon revolve and shine together in the sky; the moon passes from crescent to full, then to darkness and new moon, a single cycle of roughly thirty days. Why then, in the height of summer, do the clouds take on the shape of peaks?

When the Geng day draws near and the Three Fu (the hottest period of summer) approaches, the fire must shift westward. The Golden Elixir (the essence sought in Neidan) is subtle and profound, and its key lies in the regulation of heat. The rising of the clouds is transformed from fiery Qi; the appearance of the peaks is a wondrous form of Shen. One refines the marrow of Kan and Li (Kan and Li represent water and fire, and also the corresponding Yin and Yang essences in the human body) and seizes the essence of Qian and Kun. As the Yin and malign influences gradually dissipate, pure Yang takes shape. When the work of Heaven and Earth is thus completed, a person passes from the realm of death into the realm of life.

The wonder of Cloud Peak is truly beyond reckoning. Were it not for the True One (Zhenyi, the genuine Dao in Daoist teaching), who could unveil its mysteries? Some have no words and can only marvel at its strangeness. From this we know that Confucians are at times rigid, and Buddhists at times hindered; the Dao is like the Great Void, vast and boundless, yet it has an inner root. That Heaven and Earth are so wide is because the Dao brought them forth; that the myriad things are so varied is because the Dao makes them grow; that the sun and moon travel east and west is because the Dao moves them; and that clouds turn into peaks is likewise the Dao's making.

What I see is the true and unmoving "One," which can govern and set in motion the myriad spirits; the Qi of Yin and Yang move alternately and give birth to all things. I can no longer tell whether the clouds have become peaks or the peaks have become clouds. Therefore, the "seven returns and nine restorations" (the circulation and refining stages of Neidan) speak of this Cloud Peak; the "eight returns and six dwellings" (a Neidan technical term) also speak of this Cloud Peak; the Mysterious Pearl (a symbol of the inner elixir or the substance of the Dao) taking shape and image is this Cloud Peak; and the appearance of the Perfected Person (Zhenren, one who has attained accomplishment in the Dao) is still this Cloud Peak. How profound, how wondrous! How could this be described by the marvelous scenery of a line of verse?

Recorded by Xia Yuanding of Doucheng.

Agitation and disorder are the root of all undertakings, while stillness and settled calm are the medicinal mirror of cultivation. This is the profound saying of Master Cui. Human beings live in the world as only a temporary gathering of the "four great elements": earth, water, fire, and wind. The bodily substances, namely mucus, spittle, semen (Jing), bodily fluids, blood, Qi, and humors, all belong to what is yin and turbid. Wine and sex, fame and profit, and desires such as greed, anger, and delusion are likewise disturbances. Only a stillness like that of the medicinal mirror can gather them in and subdue them.

What is meant by "medicine"? When cinnabar joins with the essence of wood and, meeting metal, merges with it, that is medicine. What is meant by "mirror"? It is luminous, true awareness (Shen, spirit), together with the practice of turning the light back to illuminate oneself. The sages established their teaching through the marvelous Dao (the Way) and used the sun and moon to explain transformation. The immortals' path takes spirit-illumination as its foundation and uses the sun and moon as metaphors for refining the elixir. In Buddhism, the sayings about lifting the sun and moon on a staff and passing on the lamp through the nature of the teaching also point to this same meaning.

Master Cui taught the world with a compassionate heart and was skilled at expressing principle through analogy. Thus Lü Dongbin said, "Because I read Master Cui's Mirror of Medicine, my mind gradually grew clear." Master Cui truly deserves to be called a teacher of both heaven and the human world.

I have studied the Daoist Canon three times, and have seen seven versions of the Mirror of Medicine, each differing in wording. This scripture totals two hundred and forty-three characters. Its language is concise yet its meaning is complete. It is as profound as the Taishang scriptures and as upright as the Spring and Autumn Annals. It moves from the shallow to the deep, illuminates the subtle, and probes hidden and profound principles without omission. It is truly the essential outline of Golden Elixir cultivation.

Once, during the Duanwu Festival, I passed through Babao and stayed in the study to the left of Peng Zhongfu's residence. He asked me about the Dao concerning the incense and fire at the stove. So I provisionally wrote a commentary on this scripture to leave for readers of the present age. I also sent the commentary to Hu Jichê, Master Lingyuan of Yuzhang, and Wang Hefu, Master Yuanmo of Tiantai. Both are students of immortality.

Preface by Xia Yuanding.

Afterword

Written by Wang Jiuwan, Instructor of the Chuzhou Prefectural School, Gentleman for Fostering Duty, newly appointed.

Li, Marquis of Ye (the Tang dynasty minister Li Bi, enfeoffed as Marquis of Ye), could write essays at the age of seven and had read ten thousand volumes. Later he put on a Daoist robe and studied the Dao (the Way) of the immortals, as though he meant to cultivate it for the rest of his life. Only the Chan master Lan Can saw through his mind. He said, "Say no more. Accept my words, and in ten years you will become chancellor." Marquis Li later took part in planning the affairs of state, and his talent and strategy were no less than those of Zhang Zifang (Zhang Liang).

People often say that one who cultivates the Dao must leave the dusty world and cut off all worldly affairs. Is that really so? I think those who possess the Dao regard such affairs as experiences left behind along the path of cultivation, and do not mistake them for cultivation itself.

Xia Yunfeng of Yongjia sat the examinations as a boy and was active in the civil service examination circuit, and he also sought out many famous scholars. As an adult he joined the army, was rewarded for his merits, and traveled back and forth across Shandong and Hebei. Later he climbed to the Grove of Confucius to broaden the vast, upright spirit within his chest. Finding that nothing in the world was worthy of holding his aspirations, he gave up office and studied the Dao.

One day Yunfeng brought out three books he had annotated. I am like a frog in a well facing the sea, and cannot truly grasp their deeper meaning. Yet I once heard the elders tell of my great-grandfather, the Palace Editor, named Zixian. During the Xuanhe era, together with the Chancellor Lü Yuanzhi and the Minister Huo Anguo, he was ordered to the region of Yan to manage grain transport. At that time the surrendered enemy generals Guo Yaoshi, Liu Shunren, Zhang Linghui, and others harbored hidden designs. The three envoys jointly submitted a memorial asking that the Yan region be abandoned. This angered the powerful minister Tan Zhen, who had them stripped of office and forbidden to leave. As the enemy generals grew ever stronger, the three envoys did everything they could to guard against them, and none slept peacefully at night. For this reason my great-grandfather learned the method of using Shen (spirit) to govern the breath. He lived to the age of eighty-nine and died without illness. The day before he died, he still lit a lamp and wrote in small regular script, replying to the Chancellor Li Boji (Li Gang).

In a letter to a member of Yan Yizhong's household, he once wrote: People know that Qi (vital energy) is the root of a full and sound body, but they do not know that Qi must be governed by Shen. If Shen and Qi are separated and cannot keep to each other, one is not skilled at nourishing life. The key to governing Qi with Shen lies in making the heart upright and the intention sincere, then sitting quietly and counting the breaths. The breath is Qi; what counts the breath is Shen. Qi is like a horse and Shen like the driver of the carriage. When Shen steers the going out and coming in of Qi without parting from it, this aids long life.

The Zhuangzi says, "The True Person breathes from the heels; the common person breathes from the throat." This means that the breath should not stay only in the throat but should sink down into the Dantian (energy center), the sea of Qi (the place below the abdomen where the breath gathers). Do not let worries and desires disturb the heart and spirit, and do not let hurried movement stir up the breath. Count the breaths in an unbroken stream until there is no need to count deliberately. Move from shallow to deep and from coarse to fine, and then, from the breath that has form, enter into the realm of Wuwei (non-action). In this way the harmonious Qi fills the whole body, from the crown of the head to the heels, until Qi and Shen gradually cease to be distinguished. The subtlety within this is hard to put into words. Might this be close to "sitting and forgetting" (forgetting the body and discriminating thoughts during quiet sitting)? Adding stretching of the limbs, massage, and similar methods does no harm. The essential thing is to persevere.

Master Huiweng (Zhu Xi) once said that this is the method of embryonic breathing (a practice of nourishing Qi by regulating the breath), but only a faint remnant of what the Cantong qi describes. By comparison, the realm shown in Yunfeng's three books on the Golden Elixir (Jindan) accords more naturally with the great Dao, manifests transformation, reaches the divine and the luminous, and brings forth wondrous effect.

Even so, Yunfeng distinguished himself in youth and later attained the Dao on Mount Heng, and before that spent more than ten years in military service. Though he and Marquis Li lived in different eras, their experiences resemble each other. Now the sage and enlightened Son of Heaven hopes that outstanding men will enter office and help accomplish the great work of the state. If Yunfeng can take Marquis Li's heart as his aim, first recovering the Central Plains for the country and only afterward seeking out a worthy like Zhang Zifang, it would still not be too late.

Written in the dinghai year of the Baoqing era (1227) by the Man of Mount Wuyi.