《古楼观紫云衍庆集》

The Record of the Zongsheng Abbey of the Great Tang recounts the origins of Louguan, its prosperity through the ages, and how Emperor Gaozu of Tang renamed it, visited it, and ordered a commemorative stele to be erected.

The ultimate principle of the Dao is empty, still, and profound; it cannot be explained by the ordinary word “Dao.” Its mysterious gateway is deep and unfathomable, with no fitting name to describe it. Since Heaven and Earth first opened and chaos took on order, Heaven, Earth, and humanity have each had their place, and all things have come into being. At first, people did not know the source of the Dao or glimpse the realm of emptiness and mystery. Later, hidden scriptures revealed its profound meaning, spreading the teachings of the Supreme Dao and opening the way for the mysterious religion of Daoism. The sages of successive ages inherited and transmitted the teachings of the Dao and De, and the teaching rooted in the Primordial Chaos thus spread throughout the world.

Zongsheng Abbey, formerly called Louguan, was the old residence of Master Wenshi, Yin Xi, an official under King Kang of Zhou. Yin Xi made a tower from bundles of grass, and the place came to be called “Louguan,” or “Grass Tower.” His nature was in harmony with the natural order, and he was born in response to a mysterious conjunction of the times. He safeguarded his nature, nurtured his spirit, and concealed his talents and virtue. Here he observed the stars and the movements of Qi, seeking out realized beings. Later, he met an immortal and reverently sought the Dao while facing north. After the Dao scriptures had been transmitted to him, their teachings spread in every direction and transformed people everywhere. The rise of Daoism began, in broad terms, with these events.

Louguan lies in the heart of Qin, facing Mount Zhongnan. To the east, one can see Mount Li, its slopes fresh with cloud and mist; to the west, one looks toward Mount Taibai and its gleaming white snow. The ancient hall where scriptures were transmitted is quiet and pure, and the traces of Laozi’s passage on an ox are still revered. The world and its cities have changed repeatedly, yet the traces of the immortals have endured. The landscape is filled with spiritual power and often displays auspicious signs: clouds of good fortune gather overhead, and cranes frequently fly there. No birds nest in the trees, while wild beasts seem to guard the place. Master Wenshi’s medicinal well and the remains of Han Kang have not been destroyed, and the marks left by Laozi’s carriage remain as well. Anyone who came to steal or cause trouble found their movements hindered, unable to advance or retreat, and in the end all surrendered.

Tradition says that when King Mu of Zhou traveled west and Duke Wen of Qin hunted east, both changed their routes and returned to this place to receive Daoist instruction in person. Qin Shihuang built a temple south of Louguan, and Emperor Wu of Han established an official residence to its north. Spacious, brightly lit terraces welcomed immortals wandering through the clouds; guesthouses stood in orderly clusters, where immortals and recluses came and went to meet. During the Qin and Han, households serving the temple and abbey followed one another without interruption. Records of visits and acts of reverence from the Jin and Song dynasties onward have been preserved to this day. This is truly a place where spirits dwell in seclusion and immortals gather.

Emperor Wen of Northern Wei changed old customs, introduced Chinese ritual practices, established the principles of benevolence and righteousness, honored Daoism, and increased its community of disciples. Master Chen Baochi was from Yingchuan and had long cherished a secluded life. From childhood, he loved mountains and forests, delighted in the wind among the pines, and often traveled through famous mountains. Later, Master Wang Zixuan also practiced the Dao here. He understood principles and their hidden implications, kept his mind empty and still, and believed that external things could not disturb his inner nature. He nurtured his spirit and maintained his composure, taking the sages as his teachers. Both masters enjoyed distinguished reputations and became leading figures in Daoism.

When the Grand Ancestor of Zhou pacified the Guanzhong region, he personally received the Five Talismans. Emperor Wen of Sui also came to pay his respects after bathing and burning incense, and received auspicious omens. By the end of the Sui dynasty, however, government and moral instruction had fallen into decline. The realm was in turmoil, and the people suffered the miseries of war.

Emperor Gaozu of Tang rose in response to the times, put an end to disorder, brought peace to the realm, and extended his benevolence far and wide. His achievements and virtue were immense, shining like the sun and moon, while auspicious signs appeared one after another: lucky plants grew in the palace courtyard, a bright star appeared among the clouds, and a qilin was seen in the countryside. He ordered the rites to be put in order and music to be established, using them to instruct the people and transform customs. Farmers worked diligently when timely rain came, and even stray ears of grain lying between the ridges were gathered up. Women who raised silkworms and wove cloth worked industriously, and their looms no longer stood idle. Warfare ceased throughout the regions, the borders were at peace, distant peoples submitted, and the whole realm received the court’s instruction.

The Emperor’s virtuous influence reached everywhere, leaving no remote place untouched. The affairs of state flourished, the Crown Prince was wise, and the realm was secure. Gifted by nature and deeply versed in principle, the Emperor honored the foundations of Daoism and looked to the deeds of the sages of antiquity. In the third year of Wude (620), he issued an edict granting Louguan the name Zongsheng Abbey.

The Emperor reflected on the origins of his ancestors and clan, believing that his lineage continued from Laozi, the Archivist. Laozi attained the Dao and became spiritually luminous; by embodying the Five Virtues, he was honored as a sage. The Dao acts through gentleness and weakness, yet is supremely resilient; by continually diminishing private desire, one ultimately comes to abundance. The imperial family’s blessings would endure for generations, and the source of its auspicious prosperity would never run dry. When the Emperor first ascended the throne, he held a Zhaijiao purification rite at a sacred altar to pray for blessings. Fragrance arose spontaneously during the ceremony, drifting like mist, as clouds of five colors rose like an outspread canopy of feathers.

In the seventh year of Wude (624), the Emperor arrived at Louguan in his carriage, accompanied by his officials, and personally paid homage to the Daoist images. This was like the Yellow Emperor’s visit to Mount Kongtong to consult Guangchengzi, or Shennong’s ascent to the Stone Chamber in search of the Dao. In each case, the rites followed the Dao; although performed in different ages, their meaning was the same.

The abbey’s leader, Qi Pingding, was well versed in Daoist texts such as the Golden Register and Jade Casket. He could foresee what was to come, understand what had passed, and penetrate the principles of change and mystery. He had perceived in advance the auspicious signs sent down by Heaven and helped spread the good fortune of the state. The Master Lü Daoji and the ritual supervisor Zhao Daolong were both upright in conduct and elevated in spirit. They were skilled at discerning principles and responding to the Emperor’s questions. The Emperor believed that even a single good deed or worthy saying deserved to be preserved in stone. How much more, then, did the Emperor’s personal visit to the abbey and his contemplation of the subtle, profound Dao deserve to be recorded? The Dao is the source from which all things arise; how could this event go uncommemorated?

Accordingly, Chen Shuda, Minister of the Left and Duke of Jiang, renowned for his literary skill, took up his brush and composed an encomium. It praised the mystery of Daoism and the depth of its tradition, invoking Daoist scriptures such as the Secret Record of the Yellow Court and the subtle teachings of the Golden Register. It also recounted how Yin Xi sought Laozi at Hangu Pass and how Louguan’s altar and abbey were established. The text evoked high terraces, cloud altars, the summoning of immortals, and the taking in of rosy mists to refine Qi. It praised Emperor Gaozu of Tang for accumulating virtue, pacifying the realm, and honoring Daoism, bringing prosperity and auspicious signs to the state and ensuring that every spirit occupied its proper place. When the Emperor came to the abbey, his carriage followed the mountain road; his bearing was solemn, and he performed the rites with reverence. The encomium concluded by wishing the Emperor boundless blessings and longevity, and by declaring that a great stone stele would record these events and carry his good name forward. The inscription was written and composed by Ouyang Xun, Gentleman-in-Attendance and Cavalry Commandant. The stele was erected on the fifteenth day of the second month in the eighth year of Wude (625).

Stele for Venerable Yin, Master of Zongsheng Abbey in the Great Tang, Silver-Blue Honor Guard and Grand Master of Splendid Happiness

It is said that perfected adepts who have attained the Dao can transcend the mortal body and pass into the realms of immortals. They ride immortal beasts and follow divine beings, taking the Lord of Thunder as their minister and the Lady of Secrecy as their attendant. At dawn they wash their hair in the hot springs; at dusk they dry it in the Valley of Yang. They call out from Cinnabar Hill and soar high amid emerald plumes. How could anyone become a great perfected adept without enduring countless kalpas, accumulating good causes over a long time, and reverently cultivating the Dao? How could anyone attain the wondrous state later made visible without diligently serving the Dao before the Golden Chamber and concentrating on cultivation above Jade Dawn, joining hands with the Azure Youth, and receiving the Yellow Register—the register of names conferred in a Daoist ordination ritual? To continue the traces of immortals who have vanished from the world and transmit the hidden, subtle methods of the Dao: this is precisely what a master such as Venerable Yin has done.

The Venerable’s name was Wencao, and his courtesy name was Jingxian. He came from Tianshui in Longxi and was a descendant of Yin Wei, an official of the Later Qin who served as Vice Director of the Department of State Affairs. Yin Wei once held office in Chang’an, and so the family became established there. The Yin clan was distinguished: its ancestors had assisted emperors and served during the reign of King Wu of Zhou. His great-grandfather Yin Hong served as Chief Administrator of Shangzhou under the Yuwen regime; his grandfather Yin Shu served as Deputy Prefect of Wenzhou under the Sui; and his father Yin Zhen served as a Court Gentleman Without Portfolio under the Tang.

The Venerable was born with unusual gifts. Before his birth, his mother, Lady Yuan, dreamed one night that a mysterious Jade Maiden gave her a talisman of the Nine Elders and the Old Man. When she awoke, she remembered the dream and often contemplated it in silence. Several months later, she heard what seemed to be the sound of scripture being recited in her womb, and strange halos of light often surrounded her. As soon as the Venerable could see, his gaze was bright, and his eyes moved as though he could perceive things hidden from ordinary people. Lady Yuan felt that her dream had come true, but kept the matter to herself.

As soon as he could dress and walk, the Venerable recognized written characters. He recited only the Laozi and the Classic of Filial Piety, saying, “These two scriptures express the intent of Heaven and Earth.” Later, whenever he saw words that spoke of killing, he felt as though he had stepped into water or fire; when he read writing contrary to ritual propriety and righteousness, he felt as though he were falling into a deep ravine. As he grew older, he heard of the Temple of Yin Zhen and devoted himself to its worship, keeping away from worldly affairs. He read Daoist scriptures such as the Scripture of the Western Ascension and the Lingbao Scriptures, gradually mastering the true meaning of Daoism and grasping its profound mysteries.

He believed that a teacher was a parent who transmitted the Dao, while a cultivator should take the divine beings as their refuge. Wondrous scriptures had taken countless kalpas to emerge; without following a teacher, one would remain in darkness for a long time. So he eagerly sought teachers far and wide. Zhou Fa was a renowned master who understood the inner recitations—the secret vocal transmissions of Daoist scriptures and methods—and a foremost disciple of the August Sovereign. The Venerable wished to follow him and learn from him, and hurried to pay his respects, fulfilling a long-held desire. When Zhou Fa saw him, he said, “In the course of the kalpas, you have already received the Register of Turtle Mountain.” He then taught him the wondrous instructions of Purple Cloud and transmitted the hidden methods of the Azure Feather. Once the Venerable understood them, he felt he could roam among the clouds and moon with immortals such as Red Pine and Wang Ziqiao.

By the age of fifteen, the Venerable’s cultivation was already well advanced, and his reputation had spread far and wide. After Empress Wende died, the court sought out people of the Dao and widely recruited those who cultivated for perfection. The Venerable answered the summons, left home to become a Daoist, and was assigned to live at Zongsheng Abbey. Though he dwelt in an abbey like an immortal realm, his thoughts often turned to distant places; he was not content with the life before him. He wished to bathe at Shujing and dwell at Nanchang, protect the realm of Kunlun, and seek out the mysteries of primordial chaos. His heart turned toward Cinnabar Vapors, his spirit wandered through the Purple Palace; he visited the Five Sacred Peaks and traversed the Nine Heavens. He sought out the ancestral Qi of the Three Lords and cultivated the wisdom-eyes of the Seven Dawns.

Later, the Venerable paid a visit to Zhou Fa and lived on Mount Zhongnan. For many years, he meditated at the hot springs and gathered his spirit in a cold valley. He mastered the methods of the Eight Radiances and understood the ways of the Nine Heavens; he could know the past and future and comprehend many profound principles. One day, it seemed that a divine being told him Zhou Fa had ascended to immortality. When he went to inspect Zhou Fa’s dwelling, he found that Zhou Fa had indeed passed away.

At the end of the Zhenguan era, the Venerable’s period of mourning came to an end. In the third year of Yonghui, he traveled to Mount Taibai and entered the realm of profound mystery. There he saw what he had never seen and heard methods of the Dao he had never heard before. From then on, he mastered the purple writings in cinnabar script, the methods of the Three and Five in their proper sequence, and the arts of supporting dawn and joining day, and of taking the Nine and Six in reverse. Strange sights he encountered while traveling in the mountains and accounts of efficacious Zhaijiao rites—rituals of supplication performed at an altar—are recorded elsewhere and will not be recounted here.

From the Xianqing era onward, the state relied on the Venerable. He entered and left the palace in service, and the emperor often asked him about virtue and affairs of state. To save and guide people, he circulated scriptures and performed rites. He presided over Daoist affairs at the Mysterious Altar, in palaces, and wherever the emperor was; he traveled between the Eastern Capital and the Western Capital, visiting Shaoyang, Taiyi, Jiucheng, Erhua, and other places to honor the gods and cultivate the Dao. For more than thirty years, he worked tirelessly. His prayers often received a response; the ruler and his ministers knew of these events, and related documents passed back and forth. As the years went by, miraculous events accumulated beyond number. The principal ones are briefly recounted below.

At first, when the Venerable traveled to the summit of Mount Taibai, clouds and mist surrounded him, and echoes resounded through the valleys. Some characters are missing from the original text here. The summit rose a thousand ren high, and a figure of nine colors, ten ren tall, also appeared. The Venerable joyfully turned toward the Dao, unwavering in his resolve.

When Gaozong was at Jiucheng Palace, a comet stretching several dozen feet streaked across the sky. The emperor asked the Venerable about it. He replied, “This is Heaven’s warning to Your Majesty. If you honor your father, and if the ruler follows Heaven’s will, heeds remonstrance, seeks out worthy people, dismisses the wicked and sycophantic, halts forced labor and military campaigns, reflects on himself, and strives to cultivate virtue in accord with Heaven’s heart, the comet will soon disappear.” Gaozong acted on his advice, and the comet soon vanished.

Gaozong therefore converted the former residence of the Prince of Jin into Haotian Abbey, dedicated to the worship of Taizong, appointed the Venerable its abbot, and also placed him in charge of its affairs. In the fourth year of Yifeng, Gaozong was in the Eastern Capital and first asked the Venerable to perform meritorious rites at the Temple of Laozi. Later, Gaozong went there in person, accompanied by all the officials. The emperor, empress, princes, princesses, and others all saw Laozi riding a white horse, surrounded by divine creatures, flying through the air and descending to the altar. People inside and outside the palace cried out and rejoiced, bowing again and again; they heard the sacred voice with their own ears. Was this not the result of the Venerable’s sincerity calling forth a response?

Later, by imperial command, the Venerable compiled the Sacred Chronicle of the August Emperor Xuanyuan, in ten volumes and one hundred and ten chapters, each accompanied by a hymn of praise. Banqian wrote the hymns for the Venerable. Once the manuscript had been arranged and copied, it was presented to the emperor. Gaozong was delighted with it and kept it on his desk, reading it throughout the day. He then awarded the Venerable the titles Silver-Blue Honor Guard and Acting Junior Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. The Venerable firmly declined the appointments and in the end accepted only an honorary rank without duties.

In the second year of Yongchun, the emperor had intended to choose an auspicious date for the Feng and Shan sacrifices. The ceremonies were ready, and the emperor set out with a great army, accompanied by a vast procession of carriages and horsemen, to offer sacrifice to Heaven at the Central Peak. But before the rites began, the emperor fell ill and had to return to the palace. Later, another death occurred in the imperial household, and the empress dowager consulted the Venerable. He said, “Immortal realms and Daoist abbeys, too, undergo periods of flourishing and decline. All things wax and wane, and the cycles of Qi have beginnings and endings; this is the constant principle of the Great Dao. My only wish is that the state remain at peace. Your Majesty should quiet your thoughts, deliberate carefully, and observe with reverence; secretly set the myriad spirits in order and quietly bring comfort to the people. Here on earth, among the myriad things and the Way of Heaven, Wencao will earnestly pray to every numinous power to which prayers may be offered. I also hope that the scriptures bound in twenty-four knots may be refined by fire to dispel distress, and that the scriptures of the seventy-two teachings may be refined by water so their arts may be perfected. These things reveal earlier signs and can also explain what is to come.”

The Venerable wrote the four-volume Treatise on the Confusions of the Pines, the thirty-volume Treatise on Dispelling Demons, and the one-volume Life of the Former Master. In the fourth year of Chuigong, as he was nearing death, his disciples had all attained the Dao and wanted to submit a memorial asking that his blessings and years be extended. The Venerable stopped them, saying, “Following Heaven’s mandate is the proper course. One must not violate its prohibitions.” With that, he passed away peacefully, his face unchanged.

On the fourteenth day of the fourth month in the fourth year of Changshou, his disciples Hou Shaowei and others buried the Venerable in Wenxian Valley on Mount Zhongnan. Remembering him and admiring the immortals of antiquity, they hoped that his virtuous reputation would endure as long as Heaven and Earth, and that his divine Way would flow on together with Yin and Yang. They therefore carved this hard stone, so that the inscription might endure like the sun, moon, and stars.

The inscription says:

“The Venerable departed and became a great immortal, dwelling in the distant heights of the Supreme Mysterious Realm. Amid the white fungi of Jade Valley and the purple orchids of the Golden Gate, he once sang out toward the immortal realms and met his companions beside a jade-green spring. He left the broad and profound human world and entered the distant heavens; he tasted the emerald chrysanthemums of the Nine Florescences and sat upright on a red lotus of five colors. He often recited texts of the Outer Visions and held in his hands the secret scriptures of the Inner Chapters. Spring clouds rose into crimson clouds; autumn winds stirred in purple mists. He wandered over the High Yellow Ridge and looked back toward the summit of Mount Taibai.

“The Three Qins and the Four Passes form the realm of emperors; Chang’an in the metropolitan region is a place where dragons and phoenixes gather. The road of the Four Luminaries shines brilliantly, and the years of the Eight Radiances stretch on without end. Now the Venerable has inherited the fruits of cultivation from former lives. When will he again descend among humanity and leave his green immortal traces? He should ride forth on the Qi of the Dao, and he should also transmit the true flavor of its teachings. May the Dao’s Qi fill the six directions, flourish and spread of itself, and pass through the ten thousand kalpas.

“I bow my head and sing, hoping to rise on the Qi of the Nine Purities. All under Heaven share this wish; it is not held by Qianlin alone.”

The inscription was composed by Yuan Banqian, Silver-Blue Honor Guard, Acting Right Admonisher to the Heir Apparent, Academician of the Chongwen Hall, Pillar of the State, and Founding Duke of Pingdong County. On the second day of the tenth month in the fifth year of Kaiyuan, the disciple Hou Shaowei erected the stele.

The Stele of the Miraculous Response of the Sagely Ancestor, the Emperor Xuanyuan of the Great Tang was written by Yuan Banqian. It recounts how Emperor Xuanzong of Tang dreamed that the Emperor Xuanyuan—an honorific title for Laozi in the Tang dynasty—appeared to him, and how he then went to Louguan to make offerings. The inscription praises the fortunes of the Tang dynasty and the transmission of Daoism. Hou Shaowei erected the stele in the fifth year of the Kaiyuan era (717). At the end, it records that another stele was erected in the first year of the Tianbao era (742), with a preface by Dai You and an encomium by Liu Tongsheng.

The inscription opens by saying that rulers should honor their ancestors and govern the realm through De (Virtue/Power). Emperor Xuanzong had been on the throne for nearly thirty years, with notable achievements to his credit, and had also honored his ancestors through filial piety. While contemplating the Great Dao in the palace, he dreamed of a divine manifestation. Taking it as a revelation from the Emperor Xuanyuan, he followed the clues in his dream to seek out the associated historic site.

The inscription says that Louguan lies in the Zhongnan Mountains and was traditionally regarded as the place where Yin Xi, Warden of the Pass during the Zhou dynasty, taught and transmitted the Dao. In the Tang dynasty, Louguan was renamed Zongsheng Monastery. Local traces of the past, including a medicinal well, remained. The surrounding forests were quiet and secluded, with flying springs, water flowing over rocks, and clouds swirling overhead. The inscription also describes auspicious signs, such as a white rainbow and purple vapor, and says they matched what Xuanzong had seen in his dream.

Before going to make offerings, Xuanzong burned incense, abstained from meat, and observed the prescribed purification rites. He then climbed to the sacred altar and performed the ceremony. The mountain forests were quiet along the way; wind stirred the plants, and fragrance filled the valleys. As the procession continued, cloudlike cranes seemed to guide it ahead. Near the capital, the banners, musicians, and retinue formed an impressive spectacle, and officials and common people alike came out to greet the emperor. Xuanzong later made offerings to his ancestors in the palace and held a purification rite to present his prayers. Using phrases such as “before the morning was over” and “in less than ten days,” the inscription praises how swiftly the ceremony’s influence reached across the realm. Civil and military officials celebrated and offered birthday felicitations as well.

The inscription then praises the Dao of Xuanyuan as embracing all things and surpassing ordinary techniques of immortals and divination. It says that ancient sage rulers, including Fuxi, had also attained the Dao. It attributes the political achievements of successive Tang rulers to the protection of the Sagely Ancestor: safeguarding the imperial house, performing sacrifices, restoring ritual and music, training the armies, and bringing distant peoples into submission. By honoring the Dao and revering his ancestors, Xuanzong was worthy, it says, of attracting auspicious signs and securing the protection of the state.

Yuzhen, the Grand Princess and Xuanzong’s younger sister, also appears in the inscription. She revered Daoism and practiced at Louguan. The monastery’s abbot, Li Xuanze, its ritual supervisor Yan Wudai, and the senior priest Chuan Chengshuo also took part. They believed that the court’s reverence for the Dao could protect the ruler and the people, bring affairs of state to a smooth course, and invite auspicious signs. These events, they said, should be recorded for later generations. Li Silin and others therefore sought the views of learned writers, and Liu Tongsheng composed the encomium.

The encomium depicts Louguan, on the northern side of the Zhongnan Mountains, as a serene Daoist sanctuary where Yin Xi, Warden of the Pass, once lived. After dreaming of an Immortal’s descent, Xuanzong sincerely observed the purification rites and led his officials to welcome the visitor. The encomium prays that the Immortal will bestow blessings, granting the emperor long life, prosperity to the state, and lasting fortune to the Tang dynasty. It concludes with blessings for the Emperor Xuanyuan and the Tang dynasty.

Mount Zhongnan is one of China’s renowned mountains. It is praised in both the “Da Yu” chapter of the Book of Documents and the “Lesser Odes of the Kingdom” in the Book of Songs. It is also called “Zhongnan” because it lies south of the capital. Broad in its terrain and rich in numinous energy, the mountain is also distinguished by its unusual and beautiful plants and trees. It is therefore regarded as one of the finest among the world’s blessed grotto-heavens and paradisal lands. Many ancient Perfected Ones of high ambition came here to cultivate the Way and make their homes, which is why people call it the “Immortal Metropolis.”

The Ancient Abbey of Louguan was the former residence of Perfected Yin (Yin Xi) and one of the most famous scenic sites on Mount Zhongnan. According to the Records of the Grand Historian, during the Zhou dynasty Perfected Yin built a tower of bundled grass from which to observe the clouds and vapors. As it happened, he later met the Most High Lord Lao. He invited the Lord to his home, received him as a disciple should, burned incense, observed purification, and asked him about the Great Dao. In the end, he received the two parts of the Dao De Jing, comprising five thousand words. Once the classic had been passed down, Daoist teaching began to flourish.

The Dao De Jing takes the Great Oneness (Taiyi) as its foundation and Constant Nonbeing as its basis. It nourishes the inner heart through emptiness, stillness, and calm, and guides one’s dealings with the world through gentleness, humility, and deference. Its aim is to lead people to investigate the beginning of Heaven and Earth, understand the end of the myriad things, let go of cleverness and contrivance, and act in accord with nature. Used to cultivate oneself, it can prolong life; used to govern a household, it can bring good fortune and prosperity; used to govern the state and bring peace to the world, it can ensure the people’s security and the state’s lasting strength. Its essential meaning is simple, and putting it into practice is not difficult. For this reason, rulers throughout the ages have honored this Dao and treasured this De.

King Mu of Zhou once came in person to visit this sacred site. He built a shrine and ordained seven Daoist priests to serve there; the place came to be called Louguan, the “Towering Abbey.” This is regarded as the beginning of establishing Daoist abbeys and ordaining people to leave home. The First Emperor of Qin revered the immortals and built the Qing Temple here. Emperor Wen of Han admired the teachings of Huang-Lao and established a purification palace. From the Wei, Jin, Northern Zhou, and Sui dynasties onward, some emperors came in person to pay their respects, while others issued edicts to repair the abbey, assign households to sweep and maintain it, and grant fields to support the Daoists. After the Tang dynasty was founded, Emperor Gaozu issued an edict in the third year of the Wude era, renaming Louguan the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage. In the first year of the Duangong era under the Song, it was granted the name “Obedient to Heaven and Flourishing the State.” Such, in broad outline, is how successive courts built and honored Louguan.

Among the Daoist masters of Louguan through the ages were many outstanding figures. Some gathered Qi into form and dispersed form into Qi, and could sit serenely as they passed away. Some penetrated the True Dao and moved the spirits, attaining ascension or corpse liberation—the Daoist means of transcending the physical form and departing this world. Some assisted the world through the Dao and became teachers to emperors. Some wrote talismans to drive away evil and aid the people. Some established precepts and teachings to guide humanity. Others withdrew to mountains and streams, took no part in worldly affairs, and kept themselves pure. The biographies of these figures, recorded by successive generations of ancestral masters, show that Louguan’s lineage reaches far back and that its transmission of the Dao has continued without interruption.

Since the White Deer ascended to Heaven, mountains and ridges have shifted and valleys have changed, yet the sacred traces of Louguan have not vanished. Many remains can still be visited today. A place shaped like a crouching tortoise is the Scripture-Transmission Terrace. A deep, secluded valley, broad and winding as it rises, is called the Valley of the Civilized Immortal. A lofty peak that pierces the clouds, with green mist clinging to it and numinous light and precious vapors often appearing, is called the Elixir-Refining Peak. The water in the Elixir Well is clear and cold; it is said to have been used to prepare the Liquid Gold Great Restoration Elixir. The branches and trunk of the Tethered Ox Cypress twist and bend, yet its form has endured for a thousand years, unchanged by cold or heat.

Legend says that after the Lord Lao ascended to Heaven, he left behind a light carriage that he had ridden, a medicine mortar, and other objects. Louguan preserved them and passed them down for more than a thousand years. During the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, the court issued an edict ordering them taken into the imperial treasury; their whereabouts have been unknown ever since. The nine chapters of the Guan Yin had long been famous, but were later lost. During the Tang and Song periods, when Daoism was honored, the court repeatedly issued edicts to search for them, but they were never found. In the gui-si year of the Great Yuan dynasty, when government was orderly and religious affairs were flourishing, Zhang Zhongcai, a Daoist from Yishui, found the book in Zhejiang. He made a special journey to present it to the senior masters of the Daoist community, and everyone was astonished. After a thousand years, Yin Xi’s book had returned to the lineage of the Yin family. It seemed Heaven intended to revive the Great Dao and had brought the book back at just the right time. Otherwise, how could such a fortunate coincidence have come about?

Not long before, the Jin court had fallen into disarray and warfare had broken out. Most of the grand halls built over the generations were destroyed by fire and war. After the Yuan dynasty pacified the realm and restored order, the Great Master Qinghe, a descendant of a True Immortal, took charge of Daoism throughout the land. He was often troubled by the ruin of the ancestral abbey. In the bing-shen year, he traveled from the land of Yan to Shaanxi and personally conducted the sacrificial rites. Daoists of virtue and standing came from all four directions without waiting to be summoned. He inspected the old site and found that only the three gates, the bell tower, and two pavilions remained, so he proposed rebuilding it.

At that time, the former Daoist Zhang Zhijian submitted an account of Louguan’s old properties. The Master was skilled at recognizing people’s abilities from their words and conduct. He said to Perfected Li Gong of Tongchen, “The revival of the ancestral court requires great power in the Dao. You should not let others take the lead in repairing and restoring it.” The Master entrusted Li Gong with the work of rebuilding the abbey. Li Gong pleaded that he lacked the ability, but in the end he could not refuse and accepted the task. He then invited Tian Xiangjunxiong, an official of the provincial administration, and Liu De Shan, the prefect of Qianzhou, to serve as patrons of merit. On the basis of official documents, he established the boundaries of Louguan’s former lands and secured them permanently as property to support the Daoist community.

Li Gong led a large group of disciples and, following the Master’s arrangements, directed the project with the assistance of Han Zhiyuan and Zhang Zhipu. They cleared away weeds, brambles, broken tiles, and ruined walls; transported timber and fired bricks and tiles. Those who designed and built the structures, cultivated fields, and gathered provisions all gave their utmost. The work continued for several months and extended over more than a year. By the ren-yin year, the rebuilding was largely complete. Three halls had been built: the Hall of the Golden Gate and Luminous Yang, the Hall of Wen Shi, and the Hall of the Forebears of the Mysterious Gate. There were also three towers: the Tower of Purple Clouds and Flourishing Blessings, the Tower of Auspicious Yang, and the Tower of Precious Writings; and two halls: the Hall of the True Officials and the Hall of Purified Heart. In addition, the complex included guest quarters, residences for the Daoist community, places to burn incense and recite scriptures, as well as the mountain gate, the abbot’s quarters, kitchens and storehouses, vegetable gardens, water channels, and subsidiary estates in the lower courtyard. The halls were freshly painted and adorned. The project was large in scale, completed swiftly, and achieved remarkable results.

It is clear that without the Great Master Qinghe’s discernment, Perfected Li of Tongchen would not have been recognized; without Perfected Li, the rebuilding would have been difficult to accomplish. Thus people of the time called Yin Xi and Master Li immortal friends whose bond spanned the ages; this was no accident. In the sixth month of summer in the first year of the Zhongtong era, the court issued an edict changing the Daoist abbey’s designation to a palace while retaining the name “Ancestral Sage.” A grand Zhaijiao purification ritual was then held to celebrate the completion of the new palace.

Li Gong’s disciple Cheng Zhiyuan, the supervising official, and Shi Zhian, the director of the palace, discussed the matter and said, “Since the Zhou dynasty, successive courts have continually built and rebuilt the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage. Some of its deeds are recorded in biographies, others carved on steles, so they can already be passed down to later generations. But our master’s great achievement in rebuilding the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage has not yet been recorded in writing. There are nearly three thousand of us disciples. If we do not set down our master’s virtue and accomplishments, we will have failed in our gratitude to him.” They therefore gathered an account of the rebuilding and went to Changchun Palace in Yanjing to ask Perfected Chengming, the head of the Daoist community, to write the stele inscription. Perfected Chengming instructed me to polish the text. I am advanced in years and have long set aside my brush and ink, but I could not refuse. So, using the materials they sent and consulting the records in steles from earlier generations, I checked and arranged the account and composed this inscription.

Master Li’s name was Zhirou, and his courtesy name was Qianshu. His family had managed waterworks for generations. His father, Zhiwei, was calm by temperament and had studied the Dao of Quanzhen under Perfected Li of Kaixuan. When Li Gong grew up, he too became a Daoist. Perfected Li of Kaixuan admired his uncommon character and repeatedly guided him in fundamental principles, which Li Gong quickly grasped. From then on, his understanding and temperament transformed with extraordinary speed, and his progress was remarkable. His brothers Zhiyi, Zhizang, and Zhiyong also studied under Perfected Li of Kaixuan. At first, Li Gong lived in seclusion for ten years on Mount Xianweng and Mount Guangyang. Later, hearing that the Master Changchun had been summoned to travel south, he went to Mount Yan to meet him. The Dao’s profound and difficult gateways opened before Li Gong as readily as a blade cutting through its object.

After this, Li Gong’s standing in the Daoist community rose steadily, and his fame reached the court. He was granted the title “Perfected Hongmiao of Tongchen,” as well as a golden crown and brocade robes. He built more than three hundred palaces, abbeys, and hermitages in various regions, most of them modeled on the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage. When the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage was rebuilt, his disciples came from thousands of miles away, near and far, to lend their help. This is why the work was completed so quickly.

The revival of the Abbey of the Ancestral Sage may have come at a moment favored by Heaven and the fortunes of the Dao. Long ago, the Mysterious Origin Lord Lao and Perfected Wen Shi, Yin Xi, met here. They revealed the precelestial Dao, opened the gate to the myriad mysteries, and transmitted the two parts of the classic, through which Daoism spread. Later, as the ways of the age declined, the means of transmitting the Dao changed. In the Qin and Han periods, people placed greater emphasis on medicines and alchemical methods; in the Wei and Jin periods, on discussions of emptiness and mystery; in the Sui and Tang periods, on prayers for blessing, exorcisms, and Zhaijiao purification rituals. The many other minor and heterodox techniques are too numerous to list. As a result, the profound teachings of the Dao De Jing were set aside, as if they had become useless.

In the early years of the Dading era of the Jin dynasty, the Patriarch Chongyang founded Quanzhen. Taking the study of Dao and De, and the cultivation of nature and life, as its central aims, he cleared away the accumulated errors of the various schools and continued the Great Dao, interrupted for a thousand years. For this reason, people throughout the realm flocked to follow him. At the beginning of the Yuan dynasty, Qiu Changchun, the foremost disciple of the Patriarch Chongyang, was summoned to the emperor’s encampment. Asked by the emperor about “Guangchengzi’s question,” he answered in a way that accorded with the emperor’s wishes, and was therefore received with great honor and entrusted with the governance of Daoism. Princes, nobles, and other members of the ruling elite all revered him as their teacher. From then on, the teachings of the Mysterious Origin Lord Lao spread widely and reached every part of the realm. Even in remote regions, Daoist scholars transmitted them to one another. Such a flourishing of Daoism has rarely been seen since its founding. Now that the old has been transformed and the new established, it is not only the Ancient Abbey of Louguan that has been revived. Daoist communities throughout the land have rallied to the cause, and palaces and abbeys stand in sight of one another, as though countless new “Louguans” had been established throughout the realm. Is this not the work of Heaven’s timing and the fortunes of the Dao?

I have recorded all these events so that later generations of those who study the Dao may consult the past and be inspired by it. Written by Li Ding of Taiyuan. The stele was erected on the twelfth day of the third month in the fourth year of Zhongtong, and recut on the Double Ninth Festival in the second year of Yuanzhen.

End of Volume One of the Ancient Louguan’s Collection on the Flourishing Legacy of Purple Clouds.

1. A Compendium of Daoist Epigraphy, compiled by Chen Yuan, Cultural Relics Press, 1988 edition, pp. 102–104. It records a stone stele bearing six characters that describe “a mass of light suddenly surging forth, rising from the ground…”

2. One character is missing after “because it was in the heavens…” When recording this stele, A Compendium of Daoist Epigraphy, p. ×, gives the character “middle.”

3. For “was commissioned to embellish the text,” A Compendium of Daoist Epigraphy, p. 551, reads “the Perfected One was commissioned to embellish the text…”

Volume Two

The Ancient Louguan’s Collection on the Flourishing Legacy of Purple Clouds, Volume Two

Compiled by Zhu Xiangxian of Jurong

The transformation and nurturing power of Heaven and Earth extends throughout the world. Tracing the origins of the encounter between the sages and perfected beings, and the transmission of the two classics, we find that it truly began on this mountain. It is like the sun rising over the islands and illuminating every land, or rivers flowing from Kunlun and gathering the waters of a hundred streams.

Laozi, the sage revered in Daoism, set out the essentials and left behind the five thousand words of the Dao De Jing. The Perfected Wenshi, an honorific title for Guanyinzi, then explained its central teachings in detail and composed nine treatises. Were these nine treatises works he had been charged to write in person, yet somehow never completed? He divided the material into sections and chapters, making its contents broad and subtle and bringing them together as a complete system. As we can see today, the teachings on principle, nature, and life are all explained in sequence in these books. Later scholars have tended to specialize in just one branch, making it difficult to investigate the whole. Some have worked hard to write commentaries, but these have often obscured the meaning of the work as a whole. It is therefore better simply to study the original text.

The original books gave titles to their sections, but not to their chapters. The present edition selects key phrases as chapter headings to point readers toward the main ideas. Some may object that this departs from the ancient practice. Yet the Long Jing originally consisted of only two sections; when Heshang Gong annotated it, he divided it into ninety-nine chapters and gave each one a title. Later generations continued to use this arrangement. This shows that the practice is beneficial, harmless, and suited to present needs.

This edition adds chapter headings, annotates the pronunciations, and marks the sentence divisions before printing the text, so that it may endure and circulate for a long time. Readers who recite and study it need not leave their seats to seek a teacher far away. If they devote themselves to careful study and repeated reading, they will find ample guidance in the book. How is this different from climbing this mountain long ago, meeting the sages and perfected beings in person, and receiving their instruction directly? Those with resolve should cherish this book.

Respectfully written by Yixuzi at the Scripture Lecture Terrace.

Colophon to the Illustration of the Ancestral Sage Palace at the Ancient Tower Monastery on Mount Zhongnan

The grandest terrain under Heaven is Chang’an; within Chang’an, the most strategic and magnificent place is Mount Zhongnan; and on Mount Zhongnan, the most renowned site is Louguan. Louguan was the residence of the Perfected Yin and the place where the Supreme Lord Lao (a deity revered in Daoism) expounded the Daode Jing.

In ancient times, people built a tower of thatch here to watch the stars and observe the movement of Qi. Sages and Perfected Ones met here, and Daoist scriptures and teachings spread from this place. From then on, Daoist teachings flourished throughout the realm, spreading far and wide like water flowing into the earth. Since the Zhou dynasty, Louguan has weathered repeated changes. As the very root of Daoism, its temples have at times fallen into ruin and at times risen again. Recently, they were abandoned once more, at the end of the Jin dynasty.

At the founding of our dynasty, our former master, the Perfected One Tongchen, devoted himself to rebuilding Louguan at the command of the Grand Master Qinghe. Before long, its halls and towers rose high, resplendent in gold and green, and an ancient site of a thousand years was restored in a single day. The plants and trees gained luster from it; even the clouds and mist seemed to change color. Mount Zhongnan became more beautiful, and the Wei River shone more brightly.

Consider the many famous temples and monasteries throughout the realm. If one traces them to their source, Louguan is where they began. There are also many sites left by immortals and places of triumph associated with sages; if one investigates their origins, Louguan is where the Supreme Lord Lao first began to transform the world through his teachings. No site is older, and none holds a more honored place. Thus the emperor has visited repeatedly and issued many orders for its repair—this was surely for good reason.

A close examination of our former master’s biography shows that, in every generation, people of old who ascended to immortality and attained the Dao came from Louguan. Louguan may be called the source of the Dao, the ancestral sanctuary of the immortals, and the root of Daoism. Though it once declined, it rose again; though it suffered a brief eclipse, its renown grew all the greater. The words of the worthy ancients—“Mount Zhongnan’s vital force is like an old man: it endures without growing weak”—are indeed well judged.

Recently, the repairs to Louguan were completed. The temple plan from the previous dynasty was consulted, and old and new features were compared and examined. The plan was redrawn and carved in stone so that practitioners of the Dao in every region could study the historic site and understand its origins.

Inscribed by Shi Tingyu on the second day of the tenth month, in the second year of Zhiyuan.

In the twenty-seventh year of the Zhiyuan era, the Celestial Master Zhang, titled Xuanyi and head of the Daoist community, received an imperial order to inspect the sacrifices to the Five Sacred Peaks and the gods of the rivers. He rode a swift relay horse into the land of Qin and performed rites at Zongsheng Palace in the ancient Louguan, honoring the founding masters of Daoism. After the ceremony, he admired the local mountains and rivers, pavilions and palaces, and reflected that more than 2,400 years had passed since Laozi (Xuanyuan) and Master Yin Xi, the Master of Wen Shi, transmitted the scriptures and established the teaching. Though the tradition had risen and declined over the centuries, the Daoist community had endured, and the lineage of the Immortals had continued without interruption. Now Perfected Person Qinghe and Perfected Person Tongchen had brought Daoism to renewed flourishing. People often say that Yin Xi and Yin Qinghe are Immortals who correspond across past and present. This is indeed a momentous occasion.

The spiritual attainment of the two Perfected Persons is widely known, but without an inscription carved in stone, it is hard for their names to be remembered over time. Perfected Person Tongchen already had an inscription written by Perfected Person Tianle, but no stone record yet told the story of Perfected Person Qinghe. This was an oversight by the later heads of the teaching. So Perfected Person Zhang instructed the supervisors Nie Zhizhen and Zhao Zhixuan to compile an account of Perfected Person Qinghe’s life, gather the inscriptions from successive generations at Louguan, and ask Jia Yu of Luxi to write the text. Unable to decline, Jia Yu arranged the events of Perfected Person Qinghe’s life on the basis of the available records, as follows.

The Perfected Person’s name was Zhiping, his courtesy name Dahe, and his surname Yin. He was a patriarch who carried on the lineage of the Quanzhen school. His family had lived for generations in Cangzhou. In the former Song, a member of the clan served as an official in Laizhou, after which the family settled there. Among his ancestors, seven had passed the examinations in Confucian learning and served as prefects. His grandfather, Yin Gongzhi, and his father, Yin Hongyi, both withdrew from public life.

The Perfected Person was born on the twentieth day of the first month in the ninth year of the Dading era under the Jin. He was gifted from childhood. By the age of three, he could recall stories from ancient times; at five, he entered school and could recite more than a thousand characters a day. At fourteen, he met Perfected Person Danyang and immediately wished to leave home and cultivate the Dao. His parents refused, and after several rounds of persuasion and discussion, they eventually yielded to his wishes. He first lived in a hermitage in Changyi, where he dreamed that Perfected Person Changsheng, Liu, beheaded him and cut open his heart, helping him grasp the mysteries of the Dao. Later, he built a monastery at Qixia and served Perfected Person Changchun, Qiu, receiving personal instruction and secret teachings. He then studied the Changes with Perfected Person Dagu and the Discourses with Perfected Person Yuyang, bringing their teachings together until his understanding became clear. From then on, his reputation grew, and he became a teacher whom students of the Dao sought to emulate.

In the year Jimao, Emperor Taizu Shengwu issued a special decree summoning Perfected Person Changchun from across the sea to court. He selected eighteen people of standing and virtue to accompany and assist him, with Yin Zhiping at their head. At the southern foot of the snowy mountains in the Western Regions, Zhiping paid his respects to the emperor. The emperor humbly sought instruction in the Highest Dao. Yin Zhiping explained the essentials of curbing desire and cultivating oneself, how to care for the people so that the state might enjoy lasting peace, and why Heaven cherishes life and abhors killing. The emperor praised and adopted his counsel, treated him with great honor, and appointed him to oversee Daoist affairs throughout the realm. Daoism flourished greatly as a result, and people everywhere revered and followed it.

In the year Yiyou, Yin Zhiping returned to the region of Yan. The emperor ordered him to reside at Taiji Palace, later known as Changchun Palace. People arrived in an unending stream from all directions to pay their respects and make offerings, but he said, “I have no merit or virtue. How could I dare accept such offerings?” He therefore withdrew to Longyang Monastery in Dexing, where he stayed for two years. Perfected Person Changchun had written to him six times, expressing his reliance on him. After Changchun’s passing into immortality, people urged Yin Zhiping to take charge of the teaching. He avoided them by retreating to the eastern mountain; only after his fellow Daoists pressed him repeatedly did he reluctantly agree.

As head of the teaching, he was dignified and kind, guiding people through the Dao. He relied neither on harsh punishments nor rigid laws, yet people willingly turned toward goodness. Many worthy men assisted him, and Daoist monasteries and palaces spread across the regions like stars. Many practitioners also gathered in forests, mountains and rocky valleys, living contentedly on plain food and water, much like the ancient recluses Chaofu and Xuyou. Even children gathering firewood and carrying water diligently cultivated their character and discussed the nature of the Dao, speaking no empty words. The inscription says that since the Three Dynasties, the Daoist way of life had never flourished as it did in that era.

Yin Zhiping believed that the spread of Daoist influence owed itself to Patriarch Wang Chongyang. He devoted himself to carrying on the ancestral lineage of the Dao, and thought especially often of Louguan. When Tian Xiangjun, an official of the Jingzhao Regional Secretariat, sent someone to invite him, Yin Zhiping was already thinking of going. So, in the spring of the year Bingshen, he left Yan and traveled to Qin, where he performed rites and offered sacrifices at the ancestral palace. The palaces and halls that once stood at Louguan had been destroyed in the Tianxing upheaval, leaving the site desolate, but the mountains and rivers still held a spirit of numinous beauty. Daoists from many places came to follow him, bringing their own provisions. Zhang Zhijian, a Daoist of the old school, submitted a written account describing Louguan’s former scale and asked Yin Zhiping to oversee its restoration. From among the community, Yin Zhiping chose Perfected Person Li Tongchen, a sincere and diligent man held in high esteem by all, and entrusted him with rebuilding Louguan. After careful planning and extensive construction, the halls and pavilions stood complete, renewed in appearance, grand and splendid. All who visited were astonished.

Later, the emperor ordered the Secretariat official Yang to summon Yin Zhiping back to Yan. In the spring of the year Wuxu, he said calmly to those around him, “I am old. I should leave the busy affairs behind and spend some time in quiet.” He gathered the senior members of the Daoist community, personally wrote a letter to Perfected Person Li Zhenchang, and appointed him to succeed him in overseeing the teaching. He also ordered the construction of Qinghe Palace on Dafang Mountain as a place of retreat.

In the year Gengzi, the ancestral court of Chongyang asked him to oversee the burial of the patriarch. He went gladly. Along the way, local people and Daoists burned incense, offered flowers, and came to greet him and see him off. More than a thousand people gathered each day. Gifts from every quarter piled up like mountains, but he paid them no attention. A drought was underway, and though people had prayed, no rain had fallen. They all said, “Now that the Perfected Person has arrived, the harmonious influence is sure to bring a response.” As soon as he arrived, rain fell in the region. Shaanxi had only just been pacified, and tens of thousands of monastic and lay followers gathered for the funeral, where confusion and disputes were common. Yin Zhiping brought order to the proceedings, and the burial was completed smoothly.

Afterward, he returned to Louguan and lived there at ease, with a tranquil and detached mind. He often climbed the terrace to reflect on the past, and sometimes composed and recited poetry. One poem says: “The Zhou dynasty raised up its recluses; the Tang brought honor to its revered teacher. At the ancient Louguan, the patriarch’s way was passed on, and Qinghe carried it forward.” The poem reveals his intention to take up the responsibility of continuing the ancestral lineage.

The following year, not long after returning to Yan, he ordered his attendant to clean his quarters at Qinghe Palace. The next day, after sweeping the palace and bowing before the sacred images, he burned incense, drank tea, and sat upright, speaking of the Dao. Around midnight, he straightened his robes, turned onto his side, and passed away. It was the sixth day of the second month in the year Xinhai. An extraordinary fragrance filled the courtyard and lingered through the night. When word spread, those nearby mourned in grief, and people from far away hurried to come, as though they had lost their parents. His original instructions were that he be buried on Dafang Mountain, but in the end he acceded to the people’s request and was buried at Wuhua. He lived to the age of eighty-three.

He wrote the Baoguang Collection, and his teachings are recorded in the Record of the Northern Journey. In the year Xinchou of the Tong reign, the court posthumously bestowed on him the title “Perfected Person Qinghe Miaodao Guanghua.” A fuller account of his life and spiritual attainment appears in the Record of the Golden Lotus, as well as in the inscriptions at Chongyang Palace and Wuhua Palace. Here, the account focuses especially on his rebuilding of Louguan and his work to glorify the ancestral Dao.

The supreme virtue of Yin Zhiping cannot be fully described here, so I will mention only one or two notable examples. It is said that when Laozi traveled west, he left behind scriptures that enabled people of every age to awaken. The one who carried on Laozi’s Dao and began the lineage of the Louguan school was Master Yin of Wen Shi. Later, Perfected Person Changchun traveled north to pay his respects at court and offered subtle teachings that brought the realm under their influence. The one who carried on Changchun’s virtue and achievements and expanded the work of Daoism was Perfected Person Yin Qinghe. Could it be mere coincidence that the sages of earlier times and the Perfected Persons of later generations came from the same clan and shared such similar spiritual attainments and accomplishments?

It is said that the nine chapters of the Guan Yin were written by Master Wen Shi. People had heard of them but had never seen them. Even the learned Master Bixu had once seen the text, but mistook the Scripture of the Ascent to the West for the Guan Yin. During the Zhenghe era of Emperor Huizong of the Song, the court issued an order to search widely for Daoist books, yet the text could not be found. In the year Guisi, a visitor came from the region of Zhe and presented a book called the Master Guan Yin, saying its words closely accorded with the intentions of the sage. All who read it were astonished. Upon inquiry, they learned that it had first been found by the Presented Scholar Sun Ding in the mountains of Yongjia, much as Li Quan had found the Scripture of the Hidden Talisman on Mount Song.

A work by a member of the Yin clan from a thousand years ago had, a thousand years later, come into the hands of another Yin. The coincidence was as striking as dropping a mustard seed into the eye of a needle. How clearly this shows Heaven’s favor toward the Yin clan! Moreover, from the time of Master Wen Shi onward, every generation of the Yin clan produced people who cultivated the Dao and became Immortals: Yin Gui in the Zhou, Yin Cheng in the Qin, Yin Lingjian in the Wei, Yin Wencao in the Tang, and, in our own time, Perfected Person Qinghe. The longer the source of the Dao has flowed, the longer the lineage of the Immortals has endured. How richly Heaven has blessed the Yin clan, as these events show! What a marvel this is!

This text was written by Jia Yu, Professor of Confucian Learning in the Anxi Circuit, on the fifteenth day of the month of Dalu in the year of the Dunqiang cycle.

The sound of wheels rolled in waves as the blue ox panted, having crossed the steep mountain roads around Mount Xiao and Hangu Pass.

The rising sun shone high, bringing out the purple and emerald hues of the mountains. Frost had formed, and in the early morning the pass gates remained closed.

The guard at the pass, Yin Xi—the official in charge of Hangu Pass—had a clear, composed expression. Clad in crimson robes and wearing a tall cap, he seemed like the sun, moon, and stars. The turtle shell divination he performed at midnight revealed an extraordinary omen, and he knew that an exceptional person would pass this way.

The elderly Laozi, the venerable sage revered by Daoists, sat in the carriage with calm dignity. His white hair rang like metal, and his face was like jade. He discoursed on the Way of Heaven and Earth and explained Heaven’s mind to me. He regarded the body as something external and paid no heed to honor or disgrace.

Yin Xi, grave and imposing, still had a clear, noble bearing, dressed in crimson robes and a tall cap, radiant as the sun and stars. The strange omen from the midnight turtle divination foretold that an exceptional person would pass this way. Laozi, old yet composed in the carriage, had white hair that rang like metal and a face like jade. He discoursed on the Way of Heaven, teaching me to regard the outer body and honor or disgrace lightly.

Seven fierce tigers tore at and devoured one another, scattering blood and flesh; even the sun, moon, and stars seemed obscured. The westward-flowing sands, the perilous Ruoshui River, the Congling Mountains, and Kunlun all became dangers along the journey.

Withered trees cried out in the evening wind as mist rose. Yet the traveler’s figure, like a flying swan, passed lightly over ten thousand miles. With the strength of the Nine Tripods, he turned back Heaven’s course and awakened the people. With a single act, he restored peace and calm to the universe.

The immortal elder’s transformations were wondrous, just as the legends told of the dragon. He repaired what was lacking between Heaven and Earth, gathered the primordial Qi, and accomplished great works. Later he entered the blue heavens and never returned. Yin Xi, too, gradually grew old and eventually withdrew to live in the Zhongnan Mountains.

The Zhongnan Mountains rise high, seeming to reach the Silver River. From their heights, one could raise a hand and touch the stars. The moon shone clear, and the breeze carried the dew’s freshness. Among the trees and plants, people built homes like towers, as though drawing near the Ox and Dipper constellations.

How exalted are the descendants of Earl Er! He often feared that he might ascend and become a star. The court’s purple-clay edict urged that a carriage be made ready, drawn by the fine horse Green Ear. May the master of the Palace of Eternal Spring remain there, abiding forever in springtime.

Banners shimmered like rainbows, adorned with gleaming leopard motifs. A structure of woven grass seemed to draw near the Ox and Dipper constellations. How exalted are the descendants of Earl Er! He often feared that he might ascend and become a star. The court’s purple-clay edict urged that a carriage be made ready, drawn by the fine horse Green Ear. May the master of the Palace of Eternal Spring remain there, abiding forever in springtime.

The brightly decorated banners shimmered in many colors. The elder sang as he joyfully turned his carriage homeward. Who could have imagined that today’s Elder Qinghe would resemble the Keeper of the Pass, Yin Xi, of old?

Written by Zhao Fu of Yunmeng, courtesy name Renfu.

“Stele Inscription on the Daoist Conduct of Venerable Master Li, Abbot of the Great Yuan Zongsheng Palace.”

My master’s surname was Li, his personal name Zhirou, and his courtesy name Qianshu. His ancestors made their living managing water, while his family had farmed and raised silkworms for generations. Their upright family tradition earned them the praise of their neighbors. There were four brothers, and my master was the second. From birth he had exceptional insight. As he grew older, he came to love mountains, forests, and springs, and his bearing was quiet and free of worldly concerns. His father, Li Zhiwei, had long been drawn to the study of the mysteries. In his youth, he followed Li Jun, the Perfected Master Kaixuan, an eminent disciple of the Taigu school in Lincheng County, Zhaozhou, and studied and received the teachings of the Quanzhen school. After completing his studies, he was respected for his Daoist attainment, and the songs he composed were deeply consonant with the principles of the Dao.

In the Xinyou year of the Taihe era, my master also became a disciple of the Perfected Master Kaixuan. He respectfully took the place of a student and served his teacher diligently for many years. Recognizing that he was capable of receiving the Daoist teachings, Kaixuan passed on to him, without reservation, the true meaning and secret methods of Daoism. With his teacher’s guidance, my master devoted himself even more wholeheartedly to cultivation and inner refinement. He once begged for food and sought the Dao around Xingzhou. Though at times he went several days without eating, his resolve to seek the Dao never weakened. Before long, he withdrew to Xianweng Mountain and Guangyang Mountain, turning away from worldly affairs for twelve years. His mind and spirit became clear, and he gained penetrating insight into the nature of things. Later, the Perfected Master Kaixuan and his father, Li Zhiwei, died one after another. His elder brother Zhiduan, and his younger brothers Zhizang and Zhiyong, had all followed him in cultivating the Dao for twelve years; the brothers encouraged one another in their practice.

Later, banditry broke out in the Xishan area, and my master moved to Xingtai. There he built Tongzhen Abbey and made it his home. His reputation for the Dao grew steadily, and people from near and far came to admire him and seek instruction. Those wishing to enter his community came in an unbroken stream. In the spring of the Gengchen year, he heard that the Patriarch Changchun, an eminent Quanzhen Daoist, had set out from the coast and was traveling through the Yan and Zhao regions. He prepared a gift and went to see him off. In the eighth month of the Guiwei year, when the Patriarch Changchun was ordered to travel south, my master met him again at Chaoyuan Abbey in Xuande. Because of my master’s high standing and virtue, the patriarch bestowed on him the title “Master Tongchen” and instructed him to establish Daoist abbeys, accept and ordain disciples, and welcome travelers, making the spread of religious teaching his chief responsibility.

My master carefully followed these instructions. He established Changchun Abbey in Zhangchuan, and Feng tian Abbey and Qizhen Abbey in Daming. In the Bingxu year, he went to Yanjing to pay his respects to the Patriarch Changchun. The following autumn, the patriarch died, and my master returned south, leaning on his staff. After this, even more people turned to the Daoist teaching. He went on to build or restore many abbeys, including Shenxiao Abbey in Cizhou, Qingxu Abbey in Xiangzhou, Tianping Abbey in Linlü, Datong Abbey in Guangzong, and Dongzhen Abbey in Yan. His disciples established nearly three hundred large and small abbeys and hermitages in various places, and many Daoist priests received his instruction.

In the Bingshen year, the Grand Master Qinghe, an eminent Quanzhen Daoist, traveled from Yanjing to Qin to pay his respects at the ancestral sanctuary. My master accompanied him. At the time, Zhang Zhijian, a Daoist priest of the Zongsheng tradition, reported that the site where the Daoist Ancestor Xuanyuan (Laozi) had delivered his lectures on the two parts of the Daode Jing had been almost entirely destroyed by fire during the Tianxing-era wars. He asked the grand master to help rebuild it. The grand master observed that without a cinnabar mountain, a phoenix of brilliant plumage would have nowhere to perch, and that without Lord Ren, it would be difficult to catch a great fish. He therefore entrusted the task to my master. Acting on this charge, my master led his disciples in clearing thornbushes and weeds, firing bricks and tiles, and laying out the construction. Gradually, the project took shape.

In the winter of the Dingyou year, the Patriarch Zhenchang appointed my master as the Daoist supervisor for the two circuits of Daming, Xingzhou, and Luozhou. He also granted him the title “Master Qingzhen,” and sent him to travel between Qin, Wei, and Zhao to manage affairs. In fewer than ten years, imposing towers, halls, and abbeys had all been renewed. In the Gengxu year, Shi Deyu, an official of Luozhou, admired my master’s reputation and virtue and recommended him in a memorial to the court. The court bestowed on him a gold crown and robes, and added the title “Perfected Person Tongchen Hongmiao.”

In the spring of the Jiayin year, the court ordered a Universal Grand Offering, a large Daoist Zhaijiao purification ritual for all under Heaven, to be held at the Great Changchun Palace in Yanjing. My master was selected to take part. After the ceremony, he again stayed at Daoist abbeys around Xingzhou, repairing and restoring, one by one, the buildings that were still unfinished. In the Guihai year of the Zhongtong era, the Patriarch Chengming ordered him to return to Louguan and oversee its repairs. He saw to every damaged or neglected part. Compared with the earlier sanctuary, the complex had not been fully restored to its former state, but the halls and pavilions that had been completed were lofty and splendid, and even surpassed what had stood before. In the first year of the Zhiyuan era, the court issued an order forbidding the people from encroaching on Louguan and barring messengers and troops from lodging there, so that the Daoist priests could burn incense and recite scriptures within the abbey.

On the second day of the sixth month, in the summer of the third year of the Zhiyuan era, the Bingyin year, my master bathed, changed his clothes, and straightened his robe. His expression was as calm as ever. He gathered those around him and urged them to cultivate themselves and benefit others. He entrusted the arrangements after his death to his disciple and successor, Shi Zhijian. The next day, he passed away peacefully at the age of seventy-eight. At the time of his death, residents of North Jiajia Lane saw five-colored clouds drifting in the sky and heard clear, melodious celestial music. They hurried over to see what was happening, and word spread that my master had ascended to immortality. Though the weather was extremely hot, his face remained as it had been in life. People held three days of Zhaijiao rites in his honor, then temporarily placed his body in the room where he had lived. When the ceremonies were over, they sent someone to inform his disciples in the Shanxi region of his death.

One day, the crane at Feng tian Abbey in Daming suddenly flew up, cried out, and alighted beneath the altar hall. Everyone looked up to watch. A short while later, news of my master’s death arrived. Those who knew of the crane’s behavior took it as a sign that his spirit had traveled forth and manifested its presence. Four years later, in the Gengwu year, senior disciples of his community chose the Qingming Festival to bury him in the Hall of Immortal Wandering at Huiling Abbey, southeast of the abbey.

My master was pure and generous by nature. He sat upright throughout the day, his expression stern and resolute, inspiring awe. Yet those who drew close to him found that he never tired of teaching. Above all, he taught the essentials of nourishing Qi and guarding Shen. He also taught people to be humble and make way for others, and, according to each person’s capacity, explained the causes and consequences of good and evil and the retribution of fortune and misfortune, guiding them in different ways. Wherever he went, people of every rank, from nobles to commoners, bowed to him respectfully and served him as disciples. If his sincerity had not come from within and moved those around him, how could he have inspired such devotion?

I was fortunate to have earned my master’s regard. As the time for his burial approached, Shi Zhijian wrote an account of the main events of his life and earnestly asked me to compose an inscription for his stele. I, too, respected my master’s Daoist attainment and did not dare decline. I have therefore written this account on the basis of what actually took place. The inscription reads:

The wondrous Dao, deep, remote, and subtle, is beyond the reach of words. Yet with a sincere heart, one can become attuned to its principles.

There was a man of profound inborn wisdom from a former life, a direct disciple who revealed the mysterious gate and carried on the Daoist lineage. He was known as Lord Tongchen. From a young age, he showed exceptional talent and rose beyond the confines of the mundane world. He was kind, frugal, and humble.

He cultivated the method of the union of the Dragon and Tiger—a term in Daoist internal alchemy for the harmonizing of Yin and Yang—and attained the practice of Complete Perfection, bringing his inner and outer being into unity. His name is now recorded in connection with Keyi and Daizong, and people from many regions come to seek his teaching, joining him in inquiry and discussion.

He traveled between east and west, spreading the tradition’s values. Meeting people according to their circumstances, he guided them, awakened the unenlightened, and dispelled their doubts. At Caolou and Huixiong, he displayed his spiritual powers, bringing renewed prosperity to the Jade Altar, a Daoist site for ritual and cultivation. Later, he withdrew to a life of leisure, and his moral standing grew ever higher. After a hundred years, he passed away and roamed through the heavens.

His radiant virtue has not faded; it lives on in people’s hearts. I compose this commemorative inscription and set it within the Jade Palace, so that his name may endure as long as Heaven and Earth, without change.

Written by Li Daoqian, Perfected One of Heavenly Joy, of the Mysterious Clarity and Civil Tranquility, Daoist supervisor for the Five Circuits of Shaanxi and for the Sichuan Circuit of Western Shu.

“Record of the Striking Ox Cypress at the Ancient Louguan”

Human beings and all things live within the nurturing transformations of Heaven and Earth, and their natures are originally the same. Differences in uprightness or crookedness, openness or obstruction arise only from their physical forms and temperaments. As for whether they possess talent or not, and whether their fortunes run smoothly or poorly, animals and plants are no different in this respect either.

As trees grow, some die soon after putting out their first branches; some are cut down once their trunks are thick enough to encircle; others grow to a girth of ten armspans yet prove of no use. Some are made into wine vessels for ancestral rites, while others are discarded in a ditch. Their lifespans and fortunes differ so greatly—could this not also be the decree of Heaven? Seeing the tethering cypress at Louguan, a sacred Daoist site, makes me believe this all the more. According to tradition, Laozi once tethered his ox to this ancient cypress.

Long ago, the Daoist Patriarch Xuanyuan, Laozi, lived during the Zhou dynasty and was preparing to leave through the pass on a distant journey. After fasting and burning incense, the ancient immortal Wenshi, Guanyinzi, came to welcome him, inviting him to stay at Louguan and asking him about the Dao. Laozi once tethered his draught ox to this cypress. Now, after two thousand four hundred years, it still stands lush and green, sound and unharmed. Ah, how extraordinary!

I have heard that the creative transformations give life to all things without favoring grain shoots over weeds; likewise, sages extend their compassion widely, valuing neither the worthy alone nor scorning the foolish. To regard all alike is the principle of fairness. Other trees flourish, wither, and fall, while this cypress alone endures. Could Heaven’s decree have shown it special favor? Perhaps it has preserved upright Qi and stored up essence, with deep roots at its foundation; perhaps that is why it has lasted so. Or perhaps spirits guard it, or a sage’s numinous presence and De protect it, granting it universal blessings. Such things are difficult to fathom.

I have also tried to describe its appearance. Its crown spreads out like an open canopy, and its dense branches and leaves cover it like clouds. Its twisting limbs coil like a serpent; others sweep upward like galloping horses. Some branches are sharp as horns, others bend like elbows. Some resemble dragons, others scales and manes. They curve or stretch, draw apart or come together, stand erect or hang down. Its ancient trunk does not decay, but is hard as iron and stone. A clear breeze stirs again and again, and its branches seem to play the sheng and yu flutes of their own accord. If no white crane comes, who will keep this quiet, upright, and chaste old tree company? When wind, snow, and bitter cold descend, how will it endure?

Ah, while pines elsewhere have undergone many cycles of growth and decline, this one stands alone on its solitary roots, free from service to others. The vermilion paint and gilded splendor of courtyards and halls have been replaced again and again through successive calamities, yet its green shade has endured unchanged. Generations of people have multiplied beyond counting; only this “Cangguan,” the ancient name for a verdant old pine or cypress, stands alone, constant as ever. Cities and dynasties have changed many times, and the contours of mountains and rivers have shifted repeatedly, yet its noble and steadfast character has not changed with them. The years it has already lived can still be counted; no one knows how long it may yet endure. Since the white deer ascended to Heaven, most relics associated with Laozi have survived only in name. This cypress alone is like a family’s treasured green felt handed down from of old, and so it has been preserved from generation to generation and regarded as a sacred object.

In the spring, in the third month of the Wuyin year of the Zhiyuan era (1278), the prince Anxi issued a special order, sending the superintendent Duan De to have a stone ox carved and placed beneath the cypress, recreating the scene of ancient times. The palace officials Nie Zhizhen and Zhao Zhixuan were delighted to receive the command. They considered it a rare opportunity in a thousand years and earnestly requested that the event be carved in stone and passed down to later generations.

This brings to mind how people of old saw a sweetgum tree and remembered Duke Shao, because they had not forgotten his kindness. Zhou Dunyi did not trim the grass in his courtyard because his compassion ran so deep that he cared even for plants. Now the worthy prince recalls the sacred traces of the Supreme One, who transmitted the Dao. He has stirred people’s longing for the sage, and, by examining the past and recreating its image, adorned this numinous tree, revealing a wide-reaching compassion. What could be a greater De than this act that accomplishes two things at once?

Only the humane can care for all things everywhere. Thus the Guanyinzi says, “One who is skilled at realizing my Dao can recognize the Way of Heaven and exhaust its mysteries through a single thing, settle nature and life, and enter the realm of the profound.” From this we can see that people must not only recognize the heavenly allotment each thing receives, but also understand that the ease or difficulty, openness or obstruction that things and human beings encounter can be brought into harmony, and together return to the transformation of utmost benevolence. How, then, could this tree be left out?

Written by Zhu Xiangxian, a hermit of Mount Sanmao.

Every plant and tree on Mount Zhongnan has a mission bestowed by Heaven. Though people and all things may be connected or cut off from one another, they can still merge as one and return together to benevolent nurture. How, then, could a single tree be excluded?

Written by Zhu Xiangxian, a hermit of Mount Sanmao.

Record of the Reconstruction of the Huiling Abbey on Mount Zhongnan

I cannot know whether the transformations of Heaven and Earth treat people with or without intention. Across the long ages and the boundless cosmos, how could anyone investigate them to their end? Yet those who split stone to seek jade must act when the jade is exposed; those who pursue a deer must follow the traces it leaves behind.

From the tale of a spirit appearing in the land of Shen, we know that the workings of creation are not wholly Wuwei (non-action). From the tale of a stone speaking in the state of Jin, we know that those workings are not entirely without intention. Again, tales of parting the clouds over Mount Heng and borrowing springtime from the sea’s storehouse show that human sincerity can reach the spirits. Tales of water springing forth after a well was worshipped, and of the sun being halted by a raised spear, show that human earnestness can move Heaven and Earth. Tales of summoning thunder in winter and making ice and snow in summer show that human ingenuity can sometimes alter the transformations of Heaven and Earth.

From this we can see that, though the azure heavens are high and beyond our reach, they respond when moved by human beings. That response in fact arises from sincerity in the human heart. The heart’s De (Virtue/Power) is vast and boundless, like the empty, clear expanse of the Great Void. Unobscured by material desires, it is luminous and open, in accord with Heaven. Once a thought stirs, there is nothing with which it does not resonate in the workings of creation.

How much more so for a sovereign, enthroned as emperor, supreme in dignity and ruler of all under Heaven, who devotes himself to the Dao and keeps the Truth constantly in mind. The resonance between Heaven and humanity in his case cannot be compared with that of ordinary people.

This Huiling Abbey was built during the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang, after a response in a dream in which the Jade Image of the Mysterious Origin appeared. The account in essence, as recorded in the Stele of the Numinosity of the Abbey of the Tower, says that about thirty years after Xuanzong ascended the throne, his governance benefited Heaven and Earth, and he showed filial reverence to his ancestors. He once sat in quiet meditation in the Xuan Chamber, reflecting deeply on the Great Dao. His virtue moved Heaven, and in a dream he received a numinous revelation. This was a clear manifestation from the Patriarch of the Mysterious Origin, who revealed his supremely wondrous countenance. Xuanzong then devoted himself to seeking the mysterious image, following the revelation as he searched from place to place, until he came to the Scripture Terrace of Yin Xi, the Zhou dynasty historian, built beside a secluded valley of Mount Tai. The compassionate countenance of the Patriarch of the Mysterious Origin appeared there, radiant and unmistakable. Xuanzong saw it with his own eyes, and what he witnessed matched his dream exactly. The stele also says: “The more wondrous the merit and virtue, the broader the response; the deeper the numinous source, the longer its flow of grace.”

According to these records, the principle of mysterious response is indeed extraordinary. Some doubt it, so I will explain it by reference to the classics. The Doctrine of the Mean says: “When sincerity is brought to its utmost, it becomes manifest; once manifest, it becomes clear and bright.” A person’s dreams, too, may be understood as the manifestation of sincerity. Gaozong of the Shang silently reflected on the way to govern and dreamed that the Lord on High had granted him a worthy minister. Later he did indeed find Fu Yue. Xuanzong often paid homage to the true image, and so, through sincerity, saw the divine image in a dream. This too was sincerity becoming manifest and clear.

I have consulted the Book of Tang. During Xuanzong’s reign, the Patriarch of the Mysterious Origin appeared in more than one or two accounts. At times he took the form of an old man and told fortunes for people outside the Chunming Gate; at other times he descended at the Danfeng Gate and told Tian Tongxiu to retrieve the tally from Hangu Pass. He also appeared at the Chaoyuan Pavilion in the Huaqing Palace. These events are recorded in the histories and leave traces that can be followed; they were not invented from nothing.

Some say that Xuanzong’s governance during the Kaiyuan era approached the flourishing of the Three Dynasties, and that many auspicious signs appeared. Yet after the Tianbao era, indulgence in ease and pleasure brought disorder, and the state moved toward ruin. Why was the difference between the two periods so great? I believe that the key to resonance lies in the human heart, especially that of a ruler. The sages said: “Where there is sincerity, the spirits respond.” At that time Xuanzong promoted stillness and purity, personally annotated the Laozi, and devoted himself to its study. Thus extraordinary responses appeared. The sages also said: “Without sincerity, the spirits do not respond.” As sincerity in the human heart waned, laxity followed, and calamities and unrest arose in consequence. This is only to be expected.

Yet Xuanzong reigned for forty-five years and lived to the age of seventy-eight. In his early years, auspicious signs appeared and his achievements were notable; in middle age, he presided over a flourishing administration; in his later years, he withdrew to a quiet life, cultivating the Dao and abstaining from grain. At the end of his life, he played a jade flute, and two immortal cranes descended into the courtyard. The Lord on High called him “Perfected One Yuan Shi Kong Sheng.” From this we can see that he was indeed a sincere and enlightened sovereign, responsive to the spirits.

The Stele of the Manifestation of Lord Lao, written by Su Lingzhi of the Tang dynasty, records these events in detail. Zhao Lixin of the Song dynasty re-erected the stele, and ten cycles of sixty years have passed since then. The court and the affairs of the world have changed many times, while palaces and abbeys have repeatedly risen and fallen. In recent times, the disorder caused by Luo Tianxing laid even these immortal abodes in ruins. When our dynasty had pacified the realm and the institutions of order were beginning to recover, in the bing shen year, the Perfected Li Tongchen, acting on the command of the Great Master Qinghe, revived the ancestral abbey. With auspicious signs descending from Heaven and the Mysterious Teaching flourishing, and with the two Perfected Ones honored as masters and profound in virtue, revered in both the human and celestial realms, disciples came in droves with provisions to undertake the labor. They traveled a thousand li without complaint. Working together with one purpose, artisans of every kind eagerly lent their skill. Besides the ancestral abbey, its various subsidiary courtyards were also repaired. Thus the Huiling Abbey was revived through the shared efforts of fellow masters and friends from many places.

After the halls were completed, the stewards fell into discord with one another. The Patriarch sent a letter admonishing them and restoring discipline to the community; only then did matters gradually settle. The Perfected Li Tongchen thereupon ordered the administrator Wang Zhian to oversee the offering of incense and religious practice. After that, the abbots changed repeatedly, and the affairs of the abbey gradually declined. The Perfected Li emphasized practicing the Dao in one’s own life and did not value outward forms; every action of his served as instruction. But those who studied the Dao did not understand this, and instead busied themselves with external rites. As a result, the roots weakened while the branches gained the upper hand.

In the geng wu year of the Zhiyuan era, the abbey’s senior and virtuous Daoist priests judged that their disciple He Zhiyuan was capable of bearing the responsibility, and entrusted the affairs of the abbey to him. Once he took charge, Zhiyuan devoted himself to repairing the buildings. In summer he went without a fan; in winter he went without warmth. Year after year, he persevered without wavering, and the abbey was transformed. He built the Secret Hall and the double gates, established a Cloud Chamber, cultivated fields, gathered Daoist priests, prepared ritual banquets, and held offerings on schedule, without interruption through the four seasons.

As the community and its resources gradually grew, Zhiyuan was preparing to make Huiling Abbey a Daoist sanctuary revered far and wide. But he was advanced in years, and the time of his return to the Real was drawing near. He died on the eighteenth day of the twelfth month in the jia wu year, entrusting the affairs that followed to his disciple Pan Daozhi. At the beginning of the following winter, the head of the order, Zhao Zhixuan, took Pan Daozhi up to the Scripture Terrace and told me the story of Huiling Abbey’s reconstruction, asking me to write an account and have it carved in stone. I could not in good conscience refuse. I therefore recount the reasons for the abbey’s founding during the Kaiyuan era, explain how Heaven and humanity respond to sincerity, and set down this record, followed by an inscription.

The vast and boundless Way of Heaven seems to rest upon a jade pestle, such as those used to pound herbs or refine elixirs. Its subtle truths are hard to discern. It appears distant, yet is never remote; it is close at hand, yet cannot be grasped. All things take such beautiful forms—who bestowed them?

We recall Xuanyuan, the honorific name of Laozi. As the founding teacher of the Dao, he opened Heaven and Earth and must surely be the master who brings all things into being. He leaves nothing out, nurturing every creature. His wondrous workings are like the moon’s reflection in water: shining everywhere, yet beyond understanding.

In the Kaiyuan era, the Son of Heaven ruled the realm, absorbed in the Dragon Classic, and honored the teachers of Daoism. His spirit understood its meaning, and he was gladly expectant, as though awaiting something. Before long, wondrous signs appeared in the heavens, bringing auspicious blessings to this land.

Ten cycles of sixty years have passed, yet the traces of old remain. On the blue-gray stone stele, the account of Heaven’s opening and creation still shines clearly. Nothing is left out; all things are nurtured. The wondrous workings are like the moon’s reflection in water, shining everywhere, yet beyond understanding.

In the Kaiyuan era, the Son of Heaven ruled the realm, absorbed in the Dragon Classic, and honored the teachers of Daoism. His spirit understood its meaning, and he was gladly expectant, as though awaiting something. Before long, wondrous signs appeared in the heavens, bringing auspicious blessings to this land.

Ten cycles of sixty years have passed, yet the old traces have not faded. The blue-gray stele still clearly records the auspicious appearance of the lingzhi mushroom. Fellow Daoists came here once more and labored to open the gate. They hoped that the silent Great Dao would reveal itself again in this ancient place of practice.

The refined, ancient Daoist melodies do not accord with worldly tunes. How could the shallow, feeble words of the world express them? Listen to the wondrous chant, like bells and drums sounding together; listen to the dragon and tiger leaping within the Golden Cauldron—the alchemical joining of Yin-Yang energies.

Listen to sincere hearts rising like thunderbolts. Listen as the sun, moon, and stars accord with precise calculations. They wish only to return to simplicity and forget the distinctions between self and other; they wish only to behold the mystery and comprehend the Gate of the Many Wonders.

They wish only for sudden understanding, and to see their true, unadorned nature; they wish only to receive the light and carry on the profound, mysterious scriptures. They lean together at the Scripture Terrace, reading through the ages; the terrace stands firm, a pillar amid the sea of the Dao.

Written by Zhu Xiangxian, a recluse of Mount Sanmao. On the Zhenyuan Day in the fourth year of Dade (1300), the abbot Pan Daozhi erected the stele.

Record of the Transformation Hermitage at Pure Yang Cave, Wenxian Valley

On the northern slope of South Mountain, south of the Scripture Terrace, there is a stone chamber. Its walls are rounded and smooth, formed entirely by nature. The local gazetteer calls it Pure Yang Cave; in the local dialect it is known as Wenxian Valley. In an earlier age, Daoists came here and, in honor of the traces of the Immortal Pure Yang, built a hall and made an image for worship. They also wrote a record of the hermitage.

On the shaded southern slope of Zhongnan Mountain, north of the Scripture Terrace, there is a stone chamber. It is round and bright, formed naturally. Gazetteers call it the “Pure Yang Cave,” while local people call it “Valley of the Transcendent Wen.” In an earlier age, Daoists built a hall here and fashioned an image to receive offerings of incense, because traces of the Pure Yang Immortal remained at this site. Later, during the Zhengda era, warfare destroyed the hall.

After the present dynasty had pacified the realm, in the bing-shen year, the Perfected Li Tongchen, acting on the command of the Grand Master Qinghe, restored Louguan. The immortal traces and the sites associated with the sages were all repaired. At that time, two Daoist companions surnamed Zhou built a hall beside the cave and practiced here. Two unusual bamboo stalks suddenly grew in the cave’s southwestern corner. Their branches divided upward into sixty-four shoots, shaped much like the yarrow stalks used in the Cai family’s divination. People came from all around to see them and considered them an auspicious sign of the Daoist grove. They therefore called them “Numinous Bamboo.”

Later, the two companions died, and Master Qizhen, Zhou Zhiquan, continued to live here. The buildings were still unfinished, so he carried on with their construction. In the xin-si year, Master Xiran, Wang Zhihe, led his disciples from Liujiang to this place and built a dwelling on the left side of the cave. They were kindred in spirit, like water and clouds joining and fragrant orchids sharing their scent. Far from the clamor of the world, they were content in quiet solitude. They sought nothing beyond growing what they needed to live, and passed their days at ease, savoring the joy of withdrawal from the world without inner distress.

One day, Master Guan Daoxuan of Zhian said to the others, “Now that our fellow disciples have gathered here and the incense offerings have been put in better order than before, we should record this in stone, so that later generations will know.” They therefore asked the Daoist supervisor for Qin and Shu, Master Sun Zun, to take charge. In accordance with the imperial edict from the Zhiyuan era conferring the title of Perfected Lord, they selected the two large characters “Evolved and Transformed” for a plaque to name the hermitage. They then had the stone carved and asked me to write this account.

I have privately reflected that the traces of the Immortal Elder’s travels are found throughout the land. From the court to Hao, from dusk to Chu, wherever he went, he left a mark. His reputation therefore spread throughout the world, and people of every rank and age revered and emulated him. There are many among the ranks of the Immortals. Why is he alone so widely revered? Perhaps it is because his vows were so great, his teaching so far-reaching, and his vision so profound; accordingly, the response he inspired and the blessings he brought were also exceptional.

In recent times, the Quanzhen tradition has flourished and the Daoist spirit has spread widely: east to the sea, west to Shu, south beyond the Jiang and Han rivers, and north to the great deserts. Every household makes offerings, everyone pays reverence, and people everywhere turn toward it. Never before has Daoist teaching spread on such a grand scale. Tracing this movement to its source, we find that Patriarch Chongyang met the Immortal Elder at Ganshui and received from him five secret teachings. They were all opened up by the Immortal Elder. For this reason, the court issued an edict in his praise, honored him as a Perfected Lord, and bestowed on him a title of six characters. Perhaps this was because he used the good Dao to teach the people and thereby benefited governance and moral instruction.

The Immortal Elder’s great vow has now come to fruition. Louguan, this sacred Daoist site, is where Xuanyuan and Wenshi transmitted the Dao. It is fitting that it should be a place visited by the Great and Broad Perfected One. All who wear feathered robes and dwell here should cherish this affinity, bring their inner lives into harmony with the Daoist setting around them, and advance toward the Dao, so that they do not fail themselves. Those who study the Dao must exert themselves in their practice. If they set aside the precious classic, the Daode Jing, what could they rely on to cultivate themselves? The way of the Immortals takes the Dao and De as its foundation, while the Dao and De are also spread through teachings about the Immortals. One cannot become an Immortal by turning away from the Dao and De; those who aspire to become Immortals must first put the Dao and De fully into practice.

Long ago, the governor of Chenjiang met the Immortal Elder and asked what he practiced. The Immortal Elder replied, “I practice the Dao of Laozi. I probe its principles deeply and examine its hidden subtleties, hoping to roam the boundless realm and endure as long as Heaven and Earth.” Ah, could the Immortal Elder have deceived me? The Daode Jing says, “The valley spirit never dies; this is called the mysterious female.” This is the foundation of Heaven and Earth, and it is also the Immortal Elder’s own mind. Only by gaining insight into this can one avoid dishonoring one’s place among the descendants of the Immortal Elder.

I also composed an ode in the style of the Songs of Chu, offering spring water and chrysanthemums in reverence. It says:

Clouds and mists lie deep, covering the mountain’s green slopes;

Cold, clear waters flow past the high terrace, bright as jade.

I long for the Yellow Crane, but see it nowhere on its return;

I gaze up at the Immortal’s serene and kindly image, and my heart remains there.

I recall the bearing of the immortals, as if roaming through boundless distances, riding a green serpent and wielding a jade dragon, a mythical divine creature in dragon form. At dawn I was still in Baiyue, the ancient name for the southern regions; by dusk I had reached the Ten Isles, the fabled sea realms where immortals dwell. Longing for those journeys of old, I have come here once more, yet I do not know whether I can ever return.

Boil white stones and drink from clear springs; listen to the wind in the pines and sleep peacefully upon the rocks. How many years have passed in such a life? If the heart becomes empty, clear, and still, can one return to one’s original true nature?

A classic is opened, its words radiant as fine jade. It awakens those who have slept through the ages and shines across heaven and earth in every direction. The immortal gate swings wide, and countless mysteries appear. Snow covers my head; no matter how I am called, I cannot be made to turn back.

Written by Zhu Xiangxian, an old recluse of Mount Sanmao. Built by He Daoyuan, the Daoist of Zhian Guan, on the sixteenth day of the fourth month in the sixth year of Dade.

Stele of Yuhua Temple

At the beginning, before the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) had divided, heaven, earth, and all things were undifferentiated and obscure, and the Dao (the Way) existed within this chaos. Later, as the two forces of Yin-Yang began to divide, the Dao became manifest between heaven and earth. Once all things had each found their place, the Dao was embodied in the sages. A sage is one who assists heaven and earth in nurturing and transforming all things.

Built by He Daoyuan, the Daoist of Zhian Guan.

Stele of Yuhua Temple

When Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) had not yet divided and Heaven and Earth remained in primordial chaos, the Dao existed in deep obscurity and indistinction. After Yin-Yang and Heaven and Earth began to separate, the Dao appeared between them. Once Heaven and Earth had each settled into their proper place, the Dao appeared again in the sages. Sages can assist Heaven and Earth in transforming and nurturing the myriad things, set the people’s dispositions and allotted destinies aright, open up profound learning for the sages of earlier generations, and establish peace for generations to come.

Long ago, the Daoist Patriarch Xuanyuan—the revered Laozi—lived during the reign of King Zhao of Zhou and transmitted the scriptures to Wenshi, the Master of the Pass, Guanyinzi. Thus Daoist teaching began. King Mu of Zhou once visited Caolou to pay his respects; later, a tower was built on the site, giving rise to the name Louguan, “Tower Monastery.” After Youyi attained the Dao, he converted seven Daoists, and the Daoist order began as well. It is clear, then, that Louguan was the birthplace of the Xuan teaching, or Daoism.

Thereafter, Qin Shihuang built a temple there, and Emperor Wu of Han built a palace. The Jin and Song dynasties issued edicts for its repair, while the Sui and Tang dynasties provided households to take charge of sweeping and upkeep. Louguan has been honored by successive dynasties for a very long time. In recent times, the patriarch of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) also emerged from the mountains, carrying forward the pure tradition of the profound sage and the ancient teaching of Wuwei (non-action). He spread the Dao beyond the dusty world and expounded its teachings throughout the realm. From princes and nobles to children and elders, all revered and practiced the Dao of Quanzhen.

At that time, monasteries stood in view of one another in the mountains and towns. Many people gathered to practice the Dao, disciples passed the teachings on in succession, and everyone applied themselves diligently without needing encouragement. Since the Three Dynasties, Daoist teaching had never flourished as it did then. Yuhua Monastery was a branch monastery of the ancient Louguan. In the yiwei year of the present dynasty, the Perfected Li Tongchen, entrusted by the Grand Master Qinghe, took charge of restoring the ancestral sanctuary. His disciple, the Great Master Wuzhen Li Shoukuan, came from Mingshui to pay his respects to his teacher. At the foot of the mountain, he found the former site of Princess Yuzhen’s residence from the Tang dynasty, built a thatched dwelling there, and named it Yuhua Hermitage.

Li Shoukuan lived there for ten years and was just planning to enlarge the hermitage when he passed away—a term in Daoism for the death of one who has attained the Dao. Tongchen then instructed his disciple, the Recluse Zhensu Guo Shouchong, to move there and oversee the building work. Construction began in spring of the guiyou year of Zhiyuan and was completed in winter of the bingxu year. The sacred hall, shrine to the Perfected, cloud chambers where Daoists lived, and kitchen were all laid out in orderly fashion. Later, walls were built and trees planted, and the grounds became spacious and bright. The hermitage was therefore expanded into a monastery, retaining the name “Yuhua.” This was the name chosen by the ancestral sanctuary’s Perfected Tianle. The following year, Zhensu was appointed to oversee the monastery.

Zhensu received the Daoist teachings through an orderly succession of masters. He was modest and austere, disciplined as pure as ice and snow, and known far and wide. Now ninety-five years old, he still has the youthful face and white hair of a crane, and a clear, vigorous spirit. He recites the scriptures morning and evening without fail and shows no sign of weariness. Without deep cultivation, how could he be like this?

One day, the monastery’s directors, Wang Shouxuan and He Shouzhen, compiled an account of Yuhua Monastery and asked me to write an inscription for a stone stele, so that it might be passed down to later generations. I could not rightly refuse, so I set down these events in their order. Words can never fully express what is in the heart, so I have also composed an inscription:

The Great Dao can only be named by a makeshift name; it dwells forever in depths remote and dark. It has no color, yet reveals the colors of all things; it has no form, yet manifests their shapes. Once things divide, each is confined and comes to rest in a single place. The Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—revolve and move; among them, humanity is most spiritually perceptive. Therefore, one must choose one’s actions carefully and distinguish the straight path from the crooked. The impure sink into desire and fall, while the upright ascend to the heavenly court.

Lofty Louguan, filled with verdant, auspicious energy, traces its transmission of the Dao to Wenshi and shines bright as the sun, moon, and stars. Since Yuhua Monastery was built, its fame has spread through the mountains and countryside. Green waters encircle it, and blue mountains rise like a screen. Moonlight illuminates the stone steps; a fresh breeze passes through the carved window lattice. The worthy Recluse Zhensu has left a fragrant name through his virtue. He has revived the incense offerings and proclaimed the teachings, set an example for students of later generations, and borne himself with a dignity fit to serve as a model for the future. He pays homage to the Perfected and the Sages and prays with sincere devotion for their long life.

In the highest joy there is no worldly pleasure; in true emptiness there is peace. The people of the world are drunk on the dusty realm, while I alone remain awake. The dream of the kingdom of Huaian passes in an instant, swift as thunder and lightning. The immortal cassia stays green forever, while the hibiscus flower withers by evening. Thus the difference between long life and brevity is made plain. So a stele is carved and an inscription set upon it, to endure through the ages.

“Gulouguan” was written by Wang Shoudao. On the Qingming Festival of the Yanyan year, Wang Shouxuan and He Shouzhen, the temple directors responsible for its affairs, established it together with Xian Huitong.

Collected Writings on the Auspicious Legacy of Purple Clouds at Gulouguan, volume two

Collected Writings on the Auspicious Legacy of Purple Clouds at Gulouguan, final volume

Compiled by Zhu Xiangxian of Jùqū.

“Record of the Reconstruction of the Wenshi Hall at the Great Ancestral Sage Palace”: Where should this account begin? Long ago, during the Ji Zhou dynasty, a perfected person once saw purple clouds here…

Where should we begin the account of the reconstruction of Wen Shi Hall at the Great Ancestral Palace?

Long ago, in the Zhou dynasty, a perfected person saw purple clouds here, met the Dark Sage, received the scriptures, and took up the Great Dao. He broke open primordial chaos and brought the vast beginnings into being, making the Way of Nature clear. His understanding was passed down from generation to generation, and teaching began to flourish from that time onward. Later, he appeared at the Qingyang market and was given the title “Master Wen Shi.” Perhaps the profound intent lies here.

The Ancient Louguan is where a thatched tower was first built. Following the traces of the past, one can still find what are called the Scripture-Receiving Terrace and the Ox-Striking Cypress. Though the years have been long and the site has endured many upheavals, the palace and temple, after falling into ruin, were soon rebuilt and restored. For this is the birthplace of the mysterious teaching.

More recently, the palace and temple were destroyed again at the end of the Jin dynasty. After the Yuan dynasty had brought peace to the realm, the perfected person Hongmiao, Li Zhirou, acting on the command of the Grand Master Qinghe, led his disciples in rebuilding them. On the old site, north of the Hall of Luminous Yang, they rebuilt Wen Shi Hall and enshrined alongside it the two perfected persons Taihe and Taiji. The halls were lofty and magnificent, and all who visited were amazed. Once the hall was complete, the inscriptions from earlier generations proved too fragmentary to establish the lineage of the tradition or offer guidance to later students. The Perfected Li therefore asked me to record the hall’s history and the circumstances in which the Book of Guan Yin had recently returned to circulation, and to have the account carved in stone. I considered my writing too meager, but could not refuse. I have therefore set down events in the order in which they unfolded.

According to the Records of the Grand Historian, when the Zhou house was in decline, Laozi set out west and reached the pass. Yin Xi, the Guardian of the Pass, said, “Since you are about to withdraw from the world, please write a book for me.” Laozi then wrote the two parts of the Dao De Jing, more than five thousand characters in all, and departed, with no one knowing what became of him. Consider the meeting between the sage and the perfected person: Yin Xi urgently entreated Laozi to write, showing his deep concern for the affairs of the world and his hope of restoring the governance of antiquity. His purpose was profoundly earnest. As for revealing the mysteries of how the myriad things first arise and opening a transmission that would continue through later generations, who could have explained them if not Master Wen Shi? After receiving Laozi’s book and grasping its meaning, Yin Xi observed ritual purification and cultivated himself in stillness for a thousand days. He investigated the patterns of numbers and mastered transformation, then composed nine chapters entitled the Book of Guan Yin. This is also recorded in the Inner Tradition, and its title accords with the entry in the Treatise on Arts and Letters of the Book of Han.

A thousand years passed. People tried to find the nine chapters of the Book of Guan Yin, but could no longer see them or find them in any collection. The learned Master Bixu of the Song dynasty mentioned this when discussing Laozi’s writings. He pointed out that the Scripture of Ascending West was a Daoist classic printed during the Zhenghe era. At that time, the court twice issued decrees ordering every commandery to search for Daoist books that had been lost. Many were found, but the Book of Guan Yin was not among them. This shows that the writings of perfected persons beyond the ordinary world may sometimes be hidden by the workings of creation, yet they do not perish entirely; they wait for the right moment to circulate again.

In the early Yuan dynasty, the Quanzhen teaching arose. In the fifth year of Qinghe’s succession to the lineage, someone found the Book of Guan Yin in the mountains of Yongjia and brought it to the religious community as an offering. Its principles were profound and its style archaic and elegant, forming a tradition of its own. All who saw or heard of it rejoiced, believing that just as Yin presided over the teaching of the Dao, so too Guan Yin’s book had reappeared in the world. If Heaven’s timing and the fortunes of the Dao had not come into accord, how could this have happened?

The book opens: “Without the Dao, there is nothing to speak of; what cannot be spoken of is the Dao. Without the Dao, there is nothing to think about; what cannot be thought about is the Dao.” This recasts Laozi’s words. Does it mean that the Dao cannot be spoken of or thought about at all? What it means is that the Dao cannot be fully grasped by speech or thought. The teaching is precise and clear, and indeed carries Laozi’s thought forward. Thus, when Zhuangzi heard Guan Yin’s teaching, he accepted it wholeheartedly, called him a great and expansive perfected person of antiquity, and said that his own learning came from Guan Yin. Liezi, in turn, took him as his teacher, and his book often describes him asking Guan Yin for instruction. That two men of such remarkable insight should revere him so deeply was no accident.

Laozi’s book honors the Dao and De (Virtue/Power), while treating other matters only briefly. The Book of Guan Yin addresses both the main principles and their finer details, and may be called a work that gathers everything into one. It speaks of wandering in the Great Beginning, joining with a single breath, the myriad things finding shelter in the Dao, and Heaven and Earth returning to obscurity. Wherever it points directly to the Dao, it reaches beyond what words can fully express. Its accounts of practical cultivation include such teachings as “the maiden and the dragon and tiger,” corresponding to the alchemical practice of today; “questions and answers on reeds, beans, tiles, and stones,” corresponding to the teachings of the Emptiness school today; and “water can be caused by fire” and “the south brings premature death, the north longevity,” corresponding to the study of investigating things and extending knowledge today. The book brings together many kinds of teaching, and there are numerous other examples. The doctrines of nature and life later developed by Confucians, Buddhists, and Daoists had not yet arisen in that age, yet the book already expounded them. It is clear that the book explained the principles of profound mystery and opened the gate to the many wonders, with far-reaching influence. Still, students differ in how deeply they understand these principles.

Later, as the ways of the age declined and the lineages dispersed, each school established its own specialized teaching based on what it had grasped. Yet scholars may study their own tradition from youth to old age without mastering it fully; to grasp the Book of Guan Yin as a whole is harder still. In recent years, many admirers of profound learning have written commentaries on the book. Often, however, they illuminate one side while neglecting another, inviting the criticism that they try to see the sky through a tube.

On examining the book today, one finds a memorial by Liu Xiang at the beginning and a postscript by Ge Hong at the end. According to these accounts, in the Han dynasty Master Gai passed the book to Cao Shen, the Chancellor of the State of Cao. When Cao Shen died, the book was buried with him. Later, Emperor Wu of Han obtained it from a practitioner of the arts of longevity, and the Prince of Huainan then concealed it. It was not until the Jin dynasty, when Ge Hong met Zheng Siyuan, that he heard of the book. He treasured it, recited it with reverence, and gave thanks that he had been able to receive its teaching with his own ears. Taken together, these accounts show that those who obtained the book in earlier generations kept it hidden and would not share it with the world. After Ge Hong, it disappeared without a trace.

Now the Yuan dynasty has risen to power, bringing the realm together and uniting the peoples of China and beyond. Writing and institutions have grown more uniform, and the book has reappeared along with these changes. Those throughout the realm who aspire to the Dao need not travel far in search of it or struggle to obtain it. They can pass it from household to household and person to person, and hold it in common. They need no longer regret spending their whole lives longing for it without ever finding it. How fortunate this is! I also recall that in ancient times, when sacred fungi grew and auspicious clouds appeared, the court historians recorded them as signs of good fortune. Now a book that carries the Dao, rare beyond measure, has reappeared in the world. This bears on the rise and fall of the age and on the flourishing of the teaching; it is no ordinary occurrence. Therefore, its story should be recorded at the place where it originated, so that the Grand Historiographer may include it in the record and scholars may understand the source of this good fortune.

Alas! If Heaven had not ordained this, who could have brought it about? This palace and temple have, since the Zhou dynasty, passed through countless cycles of prosperity and decline. The rise and fall, creation and destruction of all things each have their own appointed course. Look out from the mountains: the Qin dynasty’s Epang Palace, the Han dynasty’s Weiyang Palace, the Sui dynasty’s Renshou Palace, and the Tang dynasty’s Jiucheng Palace all once enjoyed the height of splendor. Yet after a few generations, they became ruins overgrown with grain. The Ancient Louguan, since its tower was built in the time of King Mu of Zhou, has endured through twenty-one generations and for two thousand four hundred years. Though it too was destroyed in a great calamity, it was gradually rebuilt and revived. After a period of decline, it flourished more than before. It did not vanish with the changing times, and the Daoist community’s descendants have guarded it from one generation to the next. If we infer the future from the past, perhaps it will indeed endure as long as the mountains.

Alas, is this not a place founded on the Dao and established on De, a home of rest that never grows old? Is it not a realm of the immortals, removed from worldly concerns and beyond the ordinary world? The halls have now been rebuilt, and the rites of worship grow ever more solemn, to awaken the innate goodness of those who come after. Scholars from every direction, even ten thousand li away, can read this book and grasp its meaning as if receiving its teaching in person. The ancient renown and character of the Zhongnan Mountains also remain here. They can enter the sacred realm, ascend the hidden hall, and gaze upon the divine images as though the spirits stood before them and beside them. Can there truly be a divide here between past and present, or between immortals and ordinary people? And who has made all this possible?

A scripture says: “Within joyful obscurity there is something; within the deep and distant darkness there is essence. That essence is real and not false, and within it is trustworthiness.” If you can gain insight from this, you can turn your gaze inward and experience the principle for yourself. Alas, may you all strive in your practice!

Written by Du Daojian, the Mountain Recluse of Jichou, on the winter solstice in the year Dade, Zhaoyang and Shan’e. The plaque was inscribed by Sun Dehuo, a Master of Preserving Harmony and Contemplating the Wondrous, appointed to oversee Daoist affairs in the five western circuits of Shaanxi and in Sichuan, and concurrently in charge of Chongyang Longevity Palace.

Poems Inscribed by Celebrated Figures

“An Inscription at Louguan” — Su Zizhan

Crows cry and apes call out for long stretches; even by day, the gates are kept shut. This place is quiet and desolate. Who still remembers the ancient August Lord—that is, Laozi? The green ox left its cart long ago, no longer bound by bridle or yoke; yet the white crane often flies here to visit the descendants of later generations.

The mountains lie close to the north, where the northern wind blows and the accumulated snow has not melted. The air is cold, and the setting sun shines dimly over a lonely village. A Daoist would surely find it strange: how can there be so many visitors, enough to muddy the water in the well before the steps?

Beyond the ancient stele before the gate, the slanting sun casts its light. The affairs of the world change like flowing water, stirring sorrow. Visitors often lament Emperor Hui of Jin, while others, in a strained imitation of Qin Shi Huang, build a temple to Laozi in hopes of seeking immortality.

Cinnabar has lain for ages in the well, as though staining its spring water red. Who burned the white wood to make incense? I have heard that immortals once came here to visit. Yet one might wonder whether that old farmer in the fields was Gengsang, the legendary one who attained the Dao.

“The Terrace for Expounding the Scripture”

The strokes of the brush dance like a sword, possessed of their own magic, though the cursive script too inspires regret. Nothing was happening between mountains and seas; later, all of it became a scene of someone playing the zither. Climb this terrace and gaze into the distance: Qin Chuan seems small. Even without waiting to receive the scripture, the heart is already clear and empty.

“Written for Louguan” — Su Ziyou

Laozi tired of the dusty world and entered the land of shifting sands, his tracks drifting like clouds, beyond anyone’s power to stop. His disciples, grieving that their master was about to leave his homeland, kept watch at the pass, observing the clouds; later, they welcomed him back.

The place where he expounded the scripture still remains on the high terrace; between the broken walls, only traces of the ox cart are left. Once one has obtained the scripture Laozi left behind, one no longer grows old. If so, why go to the trouble of eating sesame seeds, a food often used in Daoist cultivation?

“Louguan” — Shi Manqing

He set out early on the green ox and expounded the upper and lower parts of the Dao De Jing. I have also heard that a white deer came to rest in the heavens above. We had hoped the emperor might put the Great Dao into practice; was it only to seek immortality in the human world?

If the white deer came here, surely it was no accident. The cypress trees seem to gaze out, standing quietly in place. The long day has passed, and in the end only traces of the past remain. The pavilions, high and low, fade into the evening haze.

“The Cypress Reborn”

The ancient cypress had been dead for many days, then began to flourish again in the season of abundance. Though its old trunk had withered with age, spring brought new life once more to its fresh branches.

Even the decayed bones of Zhongni (Confucius) brought Xu Jia’s corpse back to life. Why did the transformative power of nature arrange things this way? This is the one point that is especially difficult to understand.

Inscription at Louguan — Wang Shen

Laozi (Li Er, courtesy name Boyang) traveled throughout the land and came to the Zhou court. The Pass Commandant Yin Xi invited him to stay, and he settled in a thatched hut. Yin Xi first saw purple qi stretching across the eastern sky; sure enough, he saw Laozi riding westward on a blue ox.

Laozi built a platform and taught the five thousand words of the Daode Jing. People later dug wells and refined elixirs, a practice that continued for hundreds of years. Today, incense is burned in the hall as people reflect on the work’s mysterious meaning. The southern mountains rise in layered folds, while dusk clouds drift across them.

Another poem — Wang Yuchuan

Yin Xi resigned from office and returned, still keeping watch over Laozi’s old dwelling. A perfected immortal, riding a feathered carriage, left traces of those ancient visits. Here the streams and rocks are serene, and the immortal air is clear and refreshing. Clouds and mist swirl around, and the place still draws visitors.

Another poem — Wang Yuchuan

Yin Xi resigned from office and returned, still keeping watch over Laozi’s old dwelling. A perfected immortal, riding a feathered carriage, left traces of those ancient visits. Here the streams and rocks are serene, and the immortal air is clear and refreshing. Clouds and mist swirl around, and the place still draws visitors.

The Dao of Heaven turns in cycles; worldly affairs begin and end. The turmoil of the mortal world keeps people attached and reluctant to leave. See how easily an official post can be relinquished: in old age, one can settle in a remote mountain retreat.

Inscribed at the Daoist Abbey of the Five Commanderies — Su Zizhan

The old temple stands beside the edge of the woods, where local people come to draw sweet water from the well. Scattered streams pour into the Wei River and race northward; birds follow the mountain slopes, no longer flying south.

Daoist practitioners dress in formal robes and headwear, then pay homage to the stars above. The villagers burn incense and pray for a good silkworm harvest in spring. Does your teacher truly know how to foretell Heaven’s mandate? How could the mountain spirit know the teaching entrusted to Lao Dan?

On the eighteenth day of the second month in the renyin year, I visited Louguan and also passed by the Shrine of Princess Yuzhen. I composed a poem and inscribed it in the hall. At the time, my younger brother Su Zhe, courtesy name Ziyou, was in the capital, so I sent him the poem and asked him to reply in the same rhyme. When I returned the following year, on the third day of the eleventh month, I inscribed two poems on the back of the stele.

On the back — Su Zizhan

The more I look at the streams and mountains, the lovelier they seem; my delight in wandering has no end. I climb steep, precipitous peaks, never knowing how many I have reached. In the deep valleys, wild birds bear curious plumage; in the celestial realm above, the immortal maidens have delicate brows and eyes.

I need not feel ashamed that Nongyu rode away on a crimson phoenix; I too can follow Chang’e and rise into the sky on the old toad. Grass in the mountain streams and flowers among the rocks grow untended; at dusk, butterflies flutter through the thin curtains.

Reply in the Same Rhyme — Su Ziyou

The delight with which Lord Xie went traveling … In the deep valleys, wild birds bear curious plumage; in the celestial realm above, the immortal maidens have delicate brows and eyes.

I need not feel ashamed that Nongyu rode away on a crimson phoenix; I too can follow Chang’e and rise into the sky on the old toad. Grass in the mountain streams and flowers among the rocks grow untended; at dusk, butterflies flutter through the thin curtains.

Written to the Rhyme of Su Ziyou

Lord Xie’s delight in climbing the mountain was not yet satisfied. Wearing his wooden mountain-climbing shoes, he walked every path along the slopes. In the ancient halls, the traces of immortals receded into the depths of time. Fine wisps of incense smoke rose from the burner, set against the mountain’s green.

Flowers fell quietly in the courtyard, their petals fluttering like flecks of jade. The old pines by the rocks had sparse branches, and moonlight streamed through them. At dusk, the emperor’s daughter departed, her figure already out of sight. In the slanting breeze and fine rain, the curtain stirred gently on its own.

Inscription on the Shrine of Princess Yuzhen

Princess Yuzhen of the Tang dynasty, whose courtesy name was Chiying, was the ninth daughter of Emperor Ruizong. She was first given the title Princess Chongchang. In the first year of Jingyun, she left the household to cultivate the Dao alongside Princess Jinxian. She was later granted the title “Shangqing Xuandu Dadong Sanjing.” The shrine to Princess Yuzhen still stands today at the foot of the southern mountain at Louguan. Local tradition calls this place “Rilang Palace” and holds that it was the site of a separate residence belonging to the princess.

The inscriptions, however, have long since vanished, and local gazetteers have been lost or corrupted. The shrine’s history, from its construction through its abandonment and restoration, can no longer be traced. Only the inscription on Louguan written by Dai Zong during the Kaiyuan era mentions that Princess Yuzhen once devoted herself to cultivating the Dao here. Wang Wei and Chu Guangxi also wrote poems about the princess’s mountain estate and her life in the mountains. It can therefore be established that the Shrine of Princess Yuzhen was once a separate residence belonging to Louguan.

I have accordingly copied all the poems written here by Tang poets and had them engraved in the shrine. On the fifteenth day of the seventh month in autumn, in the second year of Yuanyou, the year Dingmao, inscribed by Xue Shaopeng of Hedong.

In Response to the Imperial Poem on the Emperor’s Visit to Princess Yuzhen’s Mountain Estate and His Inscription on the Stone Wall

Wang Wei

The mountain estate lies far beyond the clouds and mists of the blue heavens; the road to the Jasper Terrace stretches a long way. Why is it linked to the imperial park, yet also set apart as an immortal’s retreat?

The emperor’s carriage once came here, following the stream and winding along the mountain paths. The green of the ceremonial banners was reflected among the hills. In the grotto, it seems that sun and moon shine without cease; clouds and rosy mists rise before the windows. In the courtyard, cranes are raised to soar on high; by the stream, traces remain of the immortals’ path to the River of Heaven. Here, fields yield white jade, and even the soil can be refined into cinnabar.

In the quiet valley, the sound of springs seems all the clearer; deep in the mountain forest, the sun soon slips westward. The emperor’s soup was prepared with stone marrow, and fragrant rice was made with sesame.

The Great Dao is now present everywhere. Where, then, could long life ever end? Looking back toward the heights of the Nine Heavens, one seems still to see carriages passing among the five-colored auspicious clouds.

Princess Yuzhen’s Mountain Retreat

Chu Guangxi

To the north of the mountain lies Tianquan Garden, and to the west is the home of the Phoenix Maiden. The poet cannot say what is so fine about Qinyuan; instead, he lives in seclusion alone, like the man from Wuling seeking peach blossoms in the Peach Blossom Spring.

Passing the Mountain Retreat of Princess Yuzhen　Chu Guangxi

To the north of the mountain lies Tianquan Garden, and to the west is the home of the Phoenix Maiden. The poet cannot say what is so fine about Qinyuan; instead, he lives in seclusion alone, like the man from Wuling seeking peach blossoms in the Peach Blossom Spring.

Passing the Scenic Hall of Princess Yuzhen　Lu Lun

The setting sun shines through the window, stirring up dim dust; green pines surround the hall, as if unaware that spring has arrived. Look: the white-haired woman is reciting scripture, and half of those here once sang and danced in the palace.

Yuzhen Abbey　Li Xinyu

Princess Yuzhen, a Tang princess who later entered the Dao and practiced its cultivation, had lofty aspirations and admired the immortals who rode phoenixes skyward. She cut her hair and entered the Dao, at first wearing a crown adorned with jade leaves. The bright autumn moon hangs high in the night sky, beneath pale clouds and clear blue heavens; dew beads on the pure white spiritual elixir, giving it a lustrous sheen.

The towering immortal city is shrouded in mist, and she seems about to depart. The turmoil of the mortal world is truly hard to endure for long. Since the sound of the flute drifted away and the immortal departed, the grotto has remained deeply sealed, and the altar of green jade has fallen silent.

Seeking Daoist Master Zhao, but Not Finding Him　Yao Gu

The Daoist went by day to pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, but the door of his dwelling was shut. A forest path can just be made out, finer still beneath its covering of snow. Pines shade the courtyard, where white cranes face one another; the mountain’s hues fill the tower, but its master has yet to return.

All day I wait alone, hoping he will return riding the wind in his carriage. I gaze up at the vast sky and watch the wild clouds drift past again and again. From the heights I look far into the distance, but there is still no news. Perhaps, looking back toward the depths of mist and rosy clouds, there may yet be another chance to meet.

Inscribed on the Wall of Qixiuxuan　Tang Qiu

Though crossing several miles of green mountains is no easy task, I do not grow weary, for I seek the secrets of cultivating the true and wish to consult a Daoist. Alas, he has not yet returned.

All day I wait alone, hoping he will return riding the wind in his carriage. I gaze up at the vast sky and watch the wild clouds drift past again and again. From the heights I look far into the distance, but there is still no news. Perhaps, looking back toward the depths of mist and rosy clouds, there may yet be another chance to meet.

Inscribed on the Wall of Qixiuxuan　Tang Qiu

Though crossing several miles of green mountains is no easy task, I do not grow weary, for I seek the secrets of cultivating the true and wish to consult a Daoist. Moss covers the immortal bridge, green and slick with moisture; pine boughs interlace overhead, and chill air fills the ancient path.

By day I stroll beside the green fields; at night I kindle the red furnace to refine a new elixir. The sound of the lone bell has faded, but the spring water still murmurs. Wind stirs the flowers beside the altar, and moonlight spills across the ritual grounds.

A Poem Left at Louguan　Xue Zhou

Beneath Zhongnan Mountain, I have settled in a thatched hut; the path to my dwelling lies hidden among clouds and trailing vines. Even if one stood beside Master Wenshi—said to have been Laozi’s disciple Yin Xi—who could truly grasp Boyang’s thought?

Ancient trees hold the principles of nature, while a clear breeze eases the traveler’s heart. The journey is hurried, and carriage and horses press me onward; I can only feel ashamed that I have failed this long, lingering song.

Another Poem　Zhang Yunshi

The Louguan rises high, its scattered towers and pavilions seeming to touch the sky. I still remember how people once watched the clouds and Qi here, amid such imposing scenery. The white deer’s tracks remain, but the immortal’s carriage has long since departed. The green ox no longer draws near, and the altar stands deserted at night.

The shadows of colorful banners seem moistened by moonlight on the spirit stream. A cool wind blows through ancient, twisted cypresses and sweeps past buildings like immortal palaces. I admire the grand occasion when the Son of Heaven honored the teachings of Huang-Lao—the thought of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. His jade plumes, part of the imperial procession, once came here as he paid homage at a temple dedicated to the spirits.

Inscribed on the South Tower of Louguan

The tangled affairs of the dusty world trouble my heart day after day. But one look toward South Mountain, and the view suddenly opens wide. Most delightful of all, once the evening clouds and mist have cleared, the mountain’s green slopes appear before me, suspended in the sky.

The Scripture-Expounding Terrace — Zhang Shanyuan

A garden mound of ten mu lies hidden in deep green. The beautiful traces left by the sage are still worth seeking out. The heavenly wind stirs the cypresses before the courtyard, as though carrying the sound of the Dao De Jing being expounded long ago.

Louguan — Zhang Zihou

As soon as I enter the mountain gate, I feel the quiet and seclusion of this place. The spring breeze reaches the Purple Cloud Tower first. The snow has melted, leaving not a trace on the green glazed tiles; mist drifts through the red pillars, where colored light shimmers.

The path leading to the Great Dao is, after all, easy to see. The blessed grotto-heavens where immortals dwell are not hard to find, either. If a refined recluse truly wished to welcome me, I would gladly settle in a small place beside the terrace where the Dao is taught.

Presented to Daoist Pang — Zhang Shangying

I take off my court robes and remove my official hat, leaving my thoughts of office to be questioned in a dream. Seeking the Supreme One’s secret to long life, I happened by chance upon the famous mountain of Zhongnan.

Yin Qiqi is plain and unadorned as wood and earth; Xu Xianxian is easygoing as water and clouds. No one understands the “fire jujube” within the body, a Neidan metaphor for the essence or elixir gained through cultivation. If one could obtain this medicine again, it would preserve the youthful face.

Presented to the Abbot of Jade Spring Hermitage — Hu Shuwen

Living in the mountains does not mean one has already left the dusty world behind. There is another secret method for reaching the Jade Capital, the Daoist realm of immortals. If you wish to know the true face of primordial unity, draw close to the green window and listen quietly to the stream.

A Visit to Louguan — Sima Kang

My white hair falls in wisps, and old age draws ever closer. My thoughts are in turmoil; I want to find somewhere to rest and withdraw from the world. I know I have not yet escaped worldly ways, and I regret it. I also fear that, even if I enter the mountains now, I will not go deep enough.

From the halls and pavilions, I lean on the rail and gaze into the distance; the view is already immense. Here, the turmoil of the dusty world seems to fall silent. Wherever my staff touches the ground, there I can make my home. Why must I go searching among countless peaks and ravines?

Ascending the Scripture Terrace — Shi Kan

Leaning on a bamboo staff and wearing straw sandals, he climbs the verdant mountain slopes. Though lofty pavilions and magnificent scenery lie before him, the poet knows he has not yet escaped the ways of the world and feels regret. He worries only that he has not gone far enough into the mountains to truly leave worldly life behind.