《吕祖志》Vol. 3

Falling into the sea of birth and death, the cycle of transmigration. Even if your hoarded gold and jade were piled high as mountains, the immortals would not esteem or praise you for it. Fame is not the highest attainment of the noble Dao. The sages of every age have been honored for their practice and De (Virtue and Power). A gold belt at the waist, fine jade at the side, riding a magnificent horse: in an instant, all of it is no more than a speck of dust in a cave’s crevice. Dust in a crevice and a spark struck from stone are fleeting things. Why set your mind on calculations meant to last? No amount of anguish can bring back time once it has passed; the hearts of those who contend for fame and profit churn without cease, like water boiling in a cauldron.

If you remain sunk in this struggle, you will lose the Dao and stray from the truth, planting the seeds of your own downfall. If you can quiet the turmoil in your heart, I will reveal to you Heaven’s secret—the key to cultivating the Dao. To cultivate life, you need a teacher’s transmission; to cultivate nature, you rely on insight. Becoming a sage and transcending the ordinary is ultimately something you must do for yourself. Few travelers take the road to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the highest divine realm honored in Daoism, while crowds rush headlong toward the animal realm. Worthy people, do not devote yourselves to chasing things outside. The key to cultivating nature and life is worth protecting. If you fail to cultivate both nature and life, your practice will not be complete; if you cling to unorthodox methods and lesser arts, you may go astray.

Cultivating nature without cultivating life is the first failing in practice. Cultivating only original nature, the true nature at the source of a person, without cultivating the Elixir developed through internal refinement, makes it difficult to enter sagehood even after countless kalpas. To understand the lineage of life while losing sight of original nature is like looking into a mirror with no mirror: you cannot see your own face. You may live as long as Heaven and Earth and still be a fool; you may hold power, wealth, and property without truly being master of them. The dual cultivation of nature and life is subtle and profound, like steering a vessel of the teachings across the surging waves beneath the sea. Only by capturing the dragon alive—a symbolic image in Neidan for a crucial practice—will you know that the true master of alchemy has passed on no empty words.

Song of the Secret

You seek it, yet cannot see it; when it comes, you cannot see it either. Unseen, unseen—this is your original face. It once flew through fire and appeared in water. The way is not far off, so long as your body and mind are not bound by external things. You still do not know the tortoise that returns Yin or the eagle that turns back Yang, symbolic images in Neidan. To encounter it is to encounter that person; to understand it is to understand its mystery.

All twelve thousand sexagenary cycles are contained in this one pot of flowing rosy dew and everlasting spring. Flowing rosy dew, flowing rosy dew: in their original nature, all are one family. When hungry, eat and take in the Sun’s essence; when thirsty, drink and take in the Moon’s radiance—images of gathering the Sun and Moon’s essences through internal cultivation. Together with you, I will open the great mushroom within the enclosed gate in the years of Jiazi and Dingchou.

Song Pointing Straight to the Great Elixir

The palaces of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) appear on the summit of Kunlun Mountain. The radiance of the sun and moon shimmers, and purple clouds rise. The pools are deep and vast, their jade liquid—the name for essence in Daoist internal alchemy—surging; tier upon tier of terraces and towers rise as numinous springs flow without cease. The Azure Dragon rides the fire, turning lead into mercury; the White Tiger sends waves surging, turning mercury into lead. For the Kan male, symbolizing the Kan trigram, kidney water, or the Yin side, to find a mate, he must form a bond with the Li maiden, symbolizing the Li trigram, heart fire, or the Yang side. The Yellow Woman, a symbol of harmonizing Yin and Yang in internal alchemy, exhausts every stratagem, and at last a lotus blooms in the Golden Cauldron.

The assembled maidens lift the jade liquid. Tier upon tier of terraces and towers rise as numinous springs flow without cease. The Azure Dragon rides the fire, turning lead into mercury; the White Tiger sends waves surging, turning mercury into lead. For the Kan male to find a mate, he must form a bond with the Li maiden. The Yellow Woman exhausts every stratagem, and at last a lotus blooms in the Golden Cauldron.

The assembled maidens hold the crow, symbolizing the moon or Yin energy, and guard the left; the general wears the hare, symbolizing the moon hare or Yin essence, and keeps watch in the west. The Black Tortoise withdraws beneath the red furnace, while the Vermilion Bird returns to the front of the splendid tower. Thereafter, by stilling the spirit and observing inwardly, one can glimpse the scene within. When the three cycles of practice are complete, one rides the clouds and ascends.

Within my heart is a spacious, still valley. To say it has the Dao seems almost to say it does not; to say it has none, however, is to say it cannot be cast aside. To say it has the Dao, too, is not to cling to it and remain there. Valley Spirit—the wondrous power that, in Daoist thought, is empty and still yet able to bring forth transformation—is truly mysterious. The divine spirit is the real Great Dao. Guard it and keep it from being lost, and it is called “immortality”; cultivate and refine it, and one may be called an immortal. When the divine spirit attains the Dao, it becomes numinous; when the empty valley attains the Dao, it becomes full. If a person can hold fast to the One—the root and source in Daoist thought—that is the way to long life. Long life is not far away, yet it cannot be sought apart from oneself. When the work of refining and nourishing is accomplished, the mortal body will naturally undergo transformation.

The secret of the Valley Spirit’s immortality lies in the Gate of the Mysterious Female, which symbolizes the source from which all things are born and transformed. Its coming and going continues without end, and the Great Dao seems to have always been there. Cultivation must also be practiced at midnight, the hour of Zi, when the River Cart—a metaphor in internal alchemy for the movement of Qi—is used to carry it upward to Kunlun, which in internal alchemy often refers to the crown of the head or the upper region. The dragon roars and the tiger howls; wind and clouds converge, and the Yellow Matron, a metaphor in internal alchemy for harmonizing Yin and Yang, calls out. The Old Woman in the Fire, a symbolic female figure in internal alchemy, holds a coy expression. Looking back, she sees the Infant at the bottom of the water, who also appears endearing. Under the Yellow Matron’s harmonizing influence, the Infant and the Old Woman meet and their hearts come together.

Passing through the twelve gates of the Golden Palace and Jade Hall, the Golden Old Man, symbolizing the Metal and Yang aspect, and the Wood Mother, symbolizing the Wood and Yin aspect, come together. After crossing gate upon gate, they must be firmly shut and barred. Inspect the Dipper and Ox, the names of constellations that also refer to related locations in internal alchemical practice, and set the fire in motion first. Once the fire advances, Yin Qi recedes and Yang Qi begins to arise; the thousand-year-old immortal peach starts to bear fruit.

On the eastern bank of Qujiang, the Golden Crow, the bird in the sun that often symbolizes the sun, takes flight. In the clear palace on the western bank, the Jade Rabbit, the rabbit in the moon that often symbolizes the moon, shines. The Qi of sun and moon gathers at the summit. In the furnace, the Maiden—the symbolic female figure of internal alchemy—sheds her blue robe and reveals her pure original nature. The Infant leads her into the depths of layered curtains. After ten months of gestation, she gives birth to a boy. This is what is meant by immortality.

I urge you to cultivate and to work diligently. The secret of the Valley Spirit’s immortality is to be sought here. If you can grasp its subtle mysteries, you can ascend with me by daylight to Yingzhou, the legendary immortal isle in the sea.

Like mud bricks on top of a wall, unable to withstand wind and rain, they soon crumble. They have not yet been tempered by water and fire. Once fired by water and fire into bricks, however, they can endure—even for ten thousand years. Their corners are firm and intact; they are no longer easily damaged. When struck, they ring clear, and they can be ground and carved. If ordinary water and fire can refine clay into solid bricks, what among the things of this world could undergo a transformation like this?

Many people cultivate the Way, spending year after year refining and nourishing themselves and exhausting their minds, yet they do not know that they have not undergone the true tempering of “water and fire.” When impermanence arrives, they may die without ever awakening to their mistake. After death, they must still rely on their Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and marrow, and suffer the pains of rebirth. It is difficult to hold fast to right awareness; once the human body is lost, one may be reborn as another kind of being.

Have you not heard of the wealthy Zheng Gong of Luoyang? When others spoke to him of the Golden Elixir, he could not take it in, as though he were blind and deaf. Stubbornly unawakened, he did not understand the principles of cultivating the Real, and so knew nothing of the way they accord with the transformative workings of Heaven and Earth. I have also heard that the Minister Zhang of Jiujiang took medicines and went blind; his spirit, Qi, and blood were depleted as well. He did not know that the returned elixir is originally without form or substance, and instead took mineral medicines. How confused he was. Then there was Zhao, the Privy Councilor of Sanqu, who practiced meditation but died without understanding: what use is it to cultivate the outward body? No matter how eloquent a person may be, that does not mean they have spoken the truth.

Some practitioners are like mud bricks that cannot withstand wind and rain. A great-hearted person should rise beyond delusion and awaken fully to their original nature. They should understand the Buddhist “gate of emptiness,” the path to liberation, without clinging to the supposed attainment of its fruits. The teachings handed down from Fuxi have come down to us today: cultivation requires probing the principles of things and fully understanding one’s nature, then advancing to the state of Heaven’s mandate. To realize the root of life, one must first understand Kan and Li and the Four Correct Positions. Kan, Li, and the Four Correct Positions are terms in Neidan (internal alchemy) that describe directions and Yin-Yang relations. Kan and Li are the foundation of the path to what is real and enduring. Only by seeing this clearly can one transcend the ordinary and enter the realm of the sage.

Kan symbolizes the tiger, and Li the dragon; originally, both dwell in the same chamber. The dragon and tiger blend and transform, gathering and separating, rising and descending in turn. Together they make up the process of cultivation from beginning to completion. Yin and Yang wane and return; obstruction turns to free passage. Every advance and retreat, every coming and going, has its moment of conjunction. The moon waxes from crescent to full, then wanes from brightness into darkness: Yin and Yang grow and diminish, fullness alternates with decline, and each is paired with the other.

Immortals enter the Crystal Palace deep within the waters and often drink rich, pure wine. After a thousand days of consumption, their work is complete: their sinews and bones are as firm as gold and jade, and their bodies become light and strong. Only through cultivating this oneself can one experience such a state, ascend to Heaven early, and pay court to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the Daoist faith’s three highest deities. I, too, can attain the holy rank of the Three Pure Ones, for what cultivation draws upon is the vital essence of Heaven and Earth, Qian and Kun.

Although one drinks ordinary wine and eats meat, these can also replenish original Qi and make it more abundant within the body. The original Qi gathers of its own accord and transforms into light, finally rising like a pearl to the Jade Capital, the celestial palace of Daoist Heaven. After cultivating for a time, one can go for many years without eating, and the stomach and intestines will not hunger. The blood turns into a white, fatty substance, and the body is not easily destroyed. This is true fasting from grains: true Qi steams and nourishes the whole body, strengthening the limbs.

When cultivation reaches the point of abstaining from grains and transcending ordinary life, the mouth and nose no longer breathe as ordinary people do. The Realized Person breathes through the heels; ordinary people breathe through the throat. From then on, the Realized Person and ordinary people belong to different realms. At this stage, the body has no leakage and its Jing and Qi do not escape. Embryonic breathing stirs the true fire in the Dantian (energy center), the site of Neidan cultivation below the navel. Laozi called this state the “infant.” After nine more years of refining the fire, one can preserve the body and remain in the world, untouched by the changes of time.

Suddenly, the Celestial Gate—the aperture at the crown of the head in Daoist Neidan practice—opens, and the Realized Person appears, endowed with great spiritual powers. At this point, the heavenly immortals can celebrate together. The Three Teachings spoken of by the sages were never truly different paths. Those who do not understand only wear themselves out to no purpose; there is no need for such exhaustion. Those who understand should cherish life: as long as the body remains, it can ultimately be cultivated to immortality. Pitiable are the foolish, who only speak empty words, drift from place to place without direction, and sink into the cycle of rebirth, with no idea when they will be free.

Students of the Way, seek carefully and study the ancient alchemical scriptures, the Golden Liquids and Jade Writings and the Cantong qi. Their principles are inexhaustible: within the wondrous lies yet more wonder, and within the mysterious, yet more mystery.

“Song of Encouragement to Niu Sheng and Xiahou” is a song urging on the two men, Niu Sheng and Xiahou. It says: You two scholars may seem to be merely men of letters, but in truth you have the potential to become immortals. We met here in China. I looked up at the sky and laughed with delight. Your bodies are like cranes, your bones like tortoises, your bearing like dragons, and your faces like tigers.

I have important words of advice for you, and hope you will not be suspicious. Be as gentle as the warm sun and send forth breath like the wind. Swallow as though drinking rain and exhale with the force of thunder. Place fire in the depths of the palace and use water to nourish the Dantian (energy center where vital essence gathers during alchemical cultivation). Bring Metal and Wood together and set Earth in its proper place; separate lead from mercury and bring forth the Elixir embryo. Then transform red blood into white fluid, and let light pass through the body’s apertures, setting all its bones and limbs in motion.

In cultivation, let the breath alternately draw in and unfold. When the Qi mechanism stirs, it will make a “ha-ha” sound, like a child’s panting, yet this will not cost you your lives. Keep the belly empty and fast for a long time. When faced with fame and profit, give yourselves over to song and dance and drunken revelry; when faced with wealth and rank, wear hemp sandals and sedge sandals and live simply. Stop keeping track of years, months, days, and hours: before your eyes, mulberry fields may turn to yellow earth. Green mountains and white clouds are the right place to dwell. I urge you to return—return.

This song was sent to Daoist Liu of White Dragon Cave.

The sun and moon move without pause, and time passes quickly. One has only just heard the spring blossoms open when autumn frost suddenly arrives. Even if one boasts of living for a thousand years, a human life is like a flash of lightning among the clouds, gone in an instant. A century amounts to only about thirty thousand days. As cold and heat alternate and body and mind endure hardship, people gradually lose the fresh bloom of youth.

Even when surrounded by children and grandchildren, family affection and love can turn into worry and constraint. Once Jing and Qi are depleted and the body declines, who can help a person hold on to youth, even for a little while? Since ordinary ways of extending life are limited, in the end people are bound to pass away like flowing water. Looking across the sages of past and present, how many have remained in the human world for long?

In fact, there are ways to extend life, but people often misunderstand them. They compete to search the mountains for medicinal herbs, refine lead and mercury, and transform elixirs, thinking this is the art of “Danyang.” Yet the true method of the Elixir has a different key: seek the red blood from Kan, the trigram that in the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) represents water and contains Yang within Yin; then draw Yin essence from Li, the trigram that represents fire and contains Yin within Yang. Blend them together and observe the proper timing.

When the timing is right, a “matchmaker” must bring them together: the Golden Old Man and the Maiden form a union. The Golden Old Man delights in riding the White Tiger; the Maiden often rides the Red Dragon. The tiger sits still in the autumn river, while the dragon surges up from the depths of the pool. When the two beasts meet and struggle, the waters churn as if boiling in a cauldron. The Yellow Matron and Elder Ding, auxiliary figures in Elixir practice, come to lend their strength, shaking the spirits and ghosts between heaven and earth. A moment later the struggle ends and the clouds gather in. An “Mysterious Pearl,” the symbolic essence formed through Neidan (internal alchemy) practice, is planted in the mud below. From then on its roots and shoots gradually grow, while the practitioner continually nurtures it and guards the true essence.

After ten months, it is as if a child has been born from the womb and swallowed into the abdomen. Suddenly, one feels that one’s ordinary body has acquired spiritual awareness. Such a practice is rare in the world and beyond the understanding of ordinary people. Without an affinity for the bones of an immortal from a former life, how could one encounter it so easily? The Golden Liquid Elixir must be refined in time, for time flies like an arrow. If you want to catch fish, first weave the net; why not gather your spirit and refine the lead Elixir? Do not let the candle flame be blown out by the wind, or you will continue to wander through the Six Realms of rebirth, unable to transcend them.

These days the world is full of deceivers who put on plain clothes and call themselves practitioners of the Dao. Ask them what Metal and Wood really are, and they fall silent like the mute. Instead, they say that one need only regulate the breath and abstain from food, and that cultivation has other long and winding paths. Have they not seen what The Song of Lord Yin Breaking Through Delusion says: the method of Taiyi embracing the True is the crucial one? The words may sound blunt and bold, but that is not deliberate; it is only that people find it hard to distinguish truth from falsehood. Only because your heart and mine are in accord do I dare speak to you so frankly.

I possess principles of the utmost mystery and depth. I have traveled throughout the eight directions, yet found no one to whom I could confide them. Only after wandering far and wide did I meet someone whose heart was in accord with mine, and then I dared to open my heart to you.

I possess principles of the utmost mystery and depth. I journeyed through the eight directions, wandering from place to place, until I came to Ningyang. When I saw you, I knew you were a cultivator, as free and unbound as a solitary cloud. I want to speak with you about Xiyi—the mysterious realm beyond the reach of hearing and sight—and the root of the Great Dao, elusive and formless, grounded in Wuwei (non-action). To seek the true Dao, you must personally observe its subtle workings: one Qi (vital energy) divides into three and transforms into five; originally, it has no name. In the Dantian (energy center), a breath like a cold spring drips without cease, flowing on and on. It rises to Kunlun, the cultivation point at the crown of the head, then turns back and flows into the central palace, an important place in the movement of Qi within the body. The four images of Yin-Yang and the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) appear together. Guide the Azure Dragon and subdue the White Tiger—images of harmonizing Yin and Yang within the body—raise auspicious winds and bring down sweet dew. Lead condenses, true mercury gathers, and cinnabar forms; a single flame of true fire becomes the master of cultivation.

Since you cultivate the true Dao, you must remain steadfast. Only then can you set Heaven and Earth in motion and roam freely across seas and mountains. Ordinary people cannot know the patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate; even spirits and gods cannot perceive the transformations that take place in cultivation. After a thousand dynasties of practice, you will forge a body of purple gold and at last return your spirit to its original truth, back to simplicity.

Scholar Huang, Scholar Huang, now that you have embarked on the cultivation of the true, you should apply yourself without delay. When will the myriad affairs of this world ever be finished? Craving fame and profit and delighting in wealth will only make you age through attachment to riches and sensual pleasures. I urge you now, earnestly: reflect for yourself and rouse your resolve. Do not wait until your final hour arrives, only to drift with all living beings through the changes of birth and death. I leave you these few words to convey what I mean; when we meet again, I will surely speak with you at greater length. Do not lose the resolve with which you began. Take good care, take good care.

Eighteen Lyrics of the Fisherman

Entering Samadhi

Close your eyes and gather your spirit, letting your thoughts grow still. In the depths of the obscure and elusive, realize the root of the Great Dao. Contemplate the boundless, distant, hazy visions of mystery, and you will see that all things return at last to emptiness and stillness.

Initial Nine

The Great Dao has always followed the natural course. Sitting alone in an empty, quiet room, guard the vital pivot through which body and mind move. The precious Qi of the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers) endures without end; the Red Emperor, the spirit representing the heart’s fire, sits clearly enthroned in Guanghan, a realm of serene and mysterious stillness.

The essences of the sun and moon unite and move in their cycles, ceaselessly renewing themselves through day and night. They stabilize Heaven and Earth atop Kunlun. The True Mirror—an image used in cultivation to observe the inner landscape—holds them within; it is well worth contemplating closely. Red clouds unfurl in the stillness of dawn, and in a trance-like moment, one seems to have gained something.

Numinous Efficacy

Grasp it naturally from within the trance, gathering the workings of Creation inside the Spirit Cauldron, a symbol of Neidan cultivation. Refine them through the regulation of the fire phases and the transformations of Yin-Yang, until an Elixir is formed.

Bathing

At the Mao and You hours, corresponding to dawn and dusk, seize the moment for cultivation. Let the Red Dragon, a metaphor for the tongue or the body’s Yang energy, continually moisten itself with the Qi of Jade Clarity, the pure celestial realm of Daoism. Let the breath be light and gentle as thin clouds and fine rain. When cultivation bears fruit, one seems to take on a bewitching beauty and snow-white skin.

Longevity

At the Zi and Wu hours, corresponding to midnight and midday, regularly gather the essences of the sun and moon. Open the gateway of the Mysterious Pass, the crucial point through which Qi enters and leaves in Neidan practice, and keep it open throughout one’s life. Carefully harmonize Yin-Yang and refine them through the fire phases.

Auspicious Cauldron

Yin-Yang come together, beginning at Wu and Ji, symbols of central Earth among the Five Phases. The substances denoted by alchemical terms such as gold, lead, water, and mercury do not rely on any single ingredient. These elements must be brought together for cinnabar to form. Repeatedly harmonize Yin-Yang, and their radiance will gradually shine forth.

Living Attainment

Humanity holds one of the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—and also occupies a place among the Five Phases. At the point where Yin-Yang unite, a dragon seems to soar and a tiger to roar fiercely, each contending for supremacy as they expel a numinous pearl.

Splendor

The Four Images, the four states formed by Yin-Yang transformations, are distinct, and the Bagua, the system of symbols representing the changes of Heaven, Earth, and all things, is complete. At the meeting of Yin-Yang, their expressions are coy. Their union is likened to Qian and Kun, or to man and woman: as their affection deepens, body and mind grow gentler.

Refining the Body

Here one seeks to return to the root and restore the source. Qi circulates through the Golden Cauldron, a symbol of Neidan cultivation, like dragons and tigers roaring. The body resists aging, and worldly disturbances cannot easily intrude. The face regains the freshness of youth, while the sinews and bones seem as firm as metal and stone.

Numinous Transformations

When the work of returning and restoring first succeeds, the body begins to change. An auspicious lotus blooms, its light a brilliant red. The scene within the Golden Cauldron is deep and indistinct; after the bones have been changed and the sinews renewed, Qi flows freely everywhere.

Knowing the Way

Some immortal scriptures record this method. The Cantong qi explains the transformations of Yin-Yang through the principles of the Book of Changes. One should investigate it deeply and avoid acting recklessly. Those who grasp its principles will naturally gain renown, and their Daoist practice will flourish.

Audience with the Celestial Emperor

When the Nine Turns—the successive stages of fire regulation in Neidan cultivation—are complete, Yang energy is abundant. Open the furnace and uncover the cauldron, and the Golden Elixir will appear. After ingesting it, leave the world of dust behind, tread upon the azure clouds, and ascend straight to Heaven.

In Accord with Principle

What should people in this world rely on throughout their lives? If they do not turn to themselves, whom can they turn to? They should put an end to excessive appetites and desires, dispel greed and delusion, and never secretly deceive their own nature or the spirits. After practicing methods of dietary cultivation and ingesting preparations, they can leave the dusty world behind, step onto the blue clouds, and rise to the heavenly realm.

In Accord with the Principle

What should people in this world rely on throughout their lives? If they do not turn to themselves, whom can they turn to? They should curb their appetites and desires, put an end to greed and delusion, and never secretly deceive their own nature or the spirits.

Free from Worry

Begin cultivating the Dao here: put an end to greed, attachment, and desire, and give up softness and indulgence. Remain serene over the long term and dwell in a quiet place. Absorb Qi and consume the rosy clouds—a Daoist term for taking in the vital essences of Heaven and Earth—and stop once you are satisfied.

What Is the Point?

People single-mindedly crave power, splendor, profit, and fame, chase after pleasures, and, once drunk, become consumed by sensual desire. If they do not seek long life, they can only worry for themselves: when this body comes to an end, where will they live?

A Fleeting Glance at the Earth

Only after enduring countless kalpas and thousands of lives does one have the chance to obtain a human body. Understand that the conditions of this life were planted in a former life. Wake up quickly and leave the path of confusion; do not let yourself continue to suffer in the cycle of reincarnation.

Always at Ease

Close your eyes and seek your true nature; it will appear of its own accord. A “Mysterious Pearl” (a symbol of the inner true nature or the vital essence attained through cultivation) will shine with light. Guard it throughout the day and do not cast it aside, lest the King of Hell send messengers to claim your life.

Eleven Lyrics to “Dreaming of the South”

The Huainan Method

Among the methods of Huainan, the most worthy of praise is “Autumn Stone” (a preparation used in Daoist ingestion practices). Its direction corresponds to Heaven and Earth, and it is symbolized by white dew. The scene turns with the hours of Yin and Mao; one sets the “River Chariot” in motion (a metaphor in internal alchemy for circulating vital essence), condensing rosy-cloud-like essence at the hours of Zi and Wu.

Wang Yang’s Method

The secret of Wang Yang’s method lies in the “Yellow Sprout” (the nascent vital essence in internal alchemy). It resembles the first sprouting of all things. When the pitch of the Yellow Bell (the standard pitch in ancient Chinese music) rises at its appointed time, the vital essence returns to its proper place. After ten months, its results can be seen.

The Yellow Emperor’s Chariot

Set the Yellow Emperor’s chariot in motion, condensing rosy-cloud-like essence at the hours of Zi and Wu.

Wang Yang’s Method

The secret of Wang Yang’s method lies in the “Yellow Sprout.” It resembles the first sprouting of all things. When the pitch of the Yellow Bell rises at its appointed time, the vital essence returns to its proper place. After ten months, its results can be seen.

The Yellow Emperor’s Method

The Yellow Emperor’s method is subtle and refined, capable of refining the “Golden Flower” (a symbol in internal alchemy of vital essence condensing and becoming manifest). As the Jade Liquor first gathers, it shines with the rosy glow of rouge. Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth unite in secret, and the Qi of the Dragon and Tiger ultimately transforms into cinnabar.

The Method of Long Life

The key to the method of long life is to use vital essence to nourish the “Mudball” (the upper Dantian in the brain, as described in Daoism). Peng Zu was said to have lived to the age of eight hundred through this method, yet people who practice it often suffer harm instead. Who truly understands the method of “Yin Elixir”?

The Formula for the Yin Elixir

The formula for the Yin Elixir brings “three and five” together to form a mysterious pattern, then gathers and circulates the energies according to the timing of “two and eight.” As Jade Liquor and fine nectar flow back and forth without end, one can escape the changes of flourishing and decline, and gain a complexion superior to that of ordinary people.

The arts of long life, the arts of long life, are like the hidden dragon described in the opening line of the Book of Changes: concealed and unseen. Do not single-mindedly pursue what is profound and mysterious; first, remain rooted in the fundamentals. When Qi circulates freely through the Dantian (the lower abdominal site of internal cultivation), even the elderly can regain a youthful state.

Those who study the Dao and cultivate their bodies and minds should adopt and practice these methods of cultivation. The body’s Jing and Qi circulate in cycles, passing through phases of flourishing and decline. When cultivation succeeds, one’s appearance can surpass that of ordinary people.

The arts of long life, the arts of long life, are like the hidden dragon described in the opening line of the Book of Changes: concealed and unseen. Do not single-mindedly pursue what is profound and mysterious; first, remain rooted in the fundamentals. When Qi circulates freely through the Dantian, even the elderly can regain a youthful state.

Those who study the Dao and cultivate their bodies and minds must take care in following the way of self-cultivation and never stray onto a mistaken path. Qi can sustain the Golden Elixir (the state of concentrated Jing and Qi sought through Neidan cultivation); this method has been passed down through the generations. In cultivation, contemplate the correspondences between Heaven, Earth, and humanity. There is no need to ask people nearby about them.

The formulas for returning the elixir, the formulas for returning the elixir: the number nine times nine holds the deepest mysteries. The so-called three sacrificial animals—the ox, sheep, and pig—are originally one and the same; they are all within the human body. To refine the numinous medicine, one must find “lead,” a symbolic term in Neidan practice. Once found, it can bring one to immortality.

The medicine of long life, the medicine of long life: there is no need to ask others about it. The principles of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the Nine Palaces can be worked out in the palm of the hand; the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and the Four Images, a system symbolizing the transformations of Yin-Yang, are all embodied within the human body. Understand these principles, and you will naturally attain wondrous insight.

Those who study the Dao, those who study the Dao, must not delay their cultivation. Time passes in an instant, like a dream. When the returned elixir has congealed to the size of a grain of millet, it can be transformed into a golden form. Once a person dies, there is no turning back.

Those who seek to preserve their health, those who seek to preserve their health, should carefully consider these subtle words. A hundred years of life pass in the blink of an eye, like a dream. I urge you to cultivate for health and preserve your life; before long, you may attain immortality.

Four Poems in the Qinyuanchun Tune

Yesterday I returned from the south.

Those who seek to preserve their health, those who seek to preserve their health, should carefully consider these subtle words. A hundred years of life pass in the blink of an eye, like a dream. I urge you to cultivate for health and preserve your life; before long, you may attain immortality.

Four Poems in the Qinyuanchun Tune

Yesterday I was still in Nanjing; today I have arrived at Mount Tianyue, all in a sudden. I take Lake Dongting for wine and drink my fill when thirsty; I use Junshan as a pillow and lie back in a drunken sleep. I talk and laugh with ease, coming and going without restraint, half wild and unbridled, half possessed of an immortal’s bearing. Wherever I may be, my heart holds the clear wind and bright moon, while my sleeves seem to carry mist, rain, and drifting clouds.

Someone asked how I had spent so many years wandering without restraint, and why I was now preparing a second banquet for the Lord of Donghua. I fell the coral trees and plant my own jade trees; I lower the waters of the Celestial River and plant my golden lotuses. I smash the Jade Capital, overturn Penglai Island, and bow before the altar of the Void Sovereign, a revered Daoist deity of the celestial realm. Nothing in the world is beyond reach. Believe that once merit is complete and cultivation fulfilled, one can attain the immortal state of “eight hundred merits accomplished, three thousand deeds fulfilled.” Part One

The entanglements of household life in the dusty world—its ordinary concerns and burdens—continue without end. Night passes, then day returns; day after day, morning and evening bring no rest. But who knows what tomorrow will bring after today? Why do people rush about, toil, and suffer? Life is like a lamp flickering in the wind, or a dewdrop on a blade of grass: in an instant, it vanishes. When I think of this, sorrow brings tears to my eyes. Life cannot last long; it is like a spark struck from stone, or a bubble on the water that disappears in a moment. Alas, who knows what tomorrow will bring after today?

Why do people rush about, toil, and suffer? Life is like a lamp flickering in the wind, or a dewdrop on a blade of grass, gone in an instant. When I think of this, sorrow brings tears to my eyes. Life cannot last long; it is like a spark struck from stone, or a bubble on the water that disappears in a moment. Alas, alas—turn back before it is too late. Wipe away all the romantic entanglements of the past. Wear only coarse cloth, eat simple food, and live according to what comes. Let others laugh at me; what have I to seek? When life reaches its end, rich and poor are the same, so why toil and worry day and night? I urge the young to leave behind their household responsibilities and worldly ties, and come to the sea to seek the Dao and cultivate the Way.

No matter how many poems, songs, and essays you leave behind, even if you write tens of millions, they cannot stop the days from passing and the months from turning. What you could not accomplish this year, you hope to put off until next year. Human life is limited, while the dusty world is like a boundless burning house. The danger is that you will waste your years and still have not cultivated the Dao when old age arrives. The greedy and deluded always hope to manage both things at once: establish a family and career, and study and cultivate the Dao. Ordinary people remain attached to worldly affections. Who believes that another realm lies within the pot—a Daoist image for an immortal land beyond the dusty world?

The Dao takes no sides out of human feeling. It neither favors the wealthy and powerful nor turns away from the poor and lowly; it looks only to see whether a seeker’s resolve is firm. Cultivating the Dao does not require exhausting the mind, nor does it call for deliberate hardship. Instead, quiet your scattered thoughts, forget clever contrivances, and let body and mind follow their natural course. The Way to long life can be taught only after the Master has truly let go of worldly entanglements.

To attain the “Sevenfold Return to the Elixir,” the practitioner must first cultivate the mind and nature, quiet the heart, and wait for the right moment. In the deep of night, when Yin reaches its extreme and Yang first begins to arise, the ingredients in the elixir furnace are gently refined, and light shines through the curtains. At this time, the changes of Yin and Yang between Heaven and Earth turn swiftly. The Dragon and Tiger—the symbols of the two forces of Yin and Yang in Neidan practice—unite, and the work of adding fire to refine the elixir is as difficult and dangerous as a bullfight. The phrase “fighting the Dipper of Danger” also appears in some versions as “the Ox and Dipper of Danger.” The Jade Toad’s Instructions likewise says that the secret lies in the times and positions corresponding to the constellations Wei, Ji, Niu, and Dou. The original also says, “The woman must refine herself and wait for the moment,” meaning that practitioners must first refine the mind and nurture their nature, then await the right time. “When the first Yang begins to stir” refers precisely to the moment when Yang energy first arises. Some versions read “still hearing Danger,” but this is probably incorrect.

Beside the Qu River, beneath the clear, bright moonlight, a crow flies past.

At that moment, the practitioner personally takes a small quantity of the elixir. “Knife and measure” refers to an ancient instrument for measuring small amounts of medicine; here it means taking the elixir. Who could believe that, from nothingness, one could nurture a “child”—a metaphor in Neidan practice for the elixir that has been formed? One must distinguish the purity or impurity of the water source and the separation between Wood and Metal. Without a master’s guidance, these things are hard to understand. The essentials of the Great Dao are subtle and mysterious, and Heaven’s secret is profound. If, at the start of practice, one already fears that progress is too slow, one may miss the right moment. On the road to Penglai, one must wait until one’s cultivation is complete and three thousand good deeds have been fulfilled; only then can one ride the clouds away alone.

The fourth poem.

Ten Miscellaneous Songs

I bow to Immortal Zhongli, one of the Daoist immortals. He is the leader of the immortals. He attained the Dao before Heaven and Earth, though his physical body was born afterward. He can overturn Heaven and Earth and roam freely across the universe. Lü the Immortal of the Tang dynasty—Lü Dongbin—personally received the secret teachings from him. Ah, he wanders freely between Penghu and the Azure Heavens, his bearing and spirit unchanged through the ages. Where does he go? To the immortal realm of Yingzhou, where the breeze is gentle. Where does he come from? After eating a meal of hemp seeds, he descends from Mount Tiantai. Ha! Ever since the Second Patriarch spoke of the mysteries, ten thousand golden lotuses have bloomed across the sea.

When the mind is empty and still, the Dao has no form; when the wind subsides, the woods too fall quiet. The floating clouds disperse, and the moon shines of its own accord, reflecting the mountains and rivers in its midst. I now recall old sayings about offerings and cultivation. A bean bursts in the fire, as though a lotus has blossomed in the flames. At that moment, clear away the cold ashes and look closely. The above is the piece titled “Divining with Sticks.”

When the directions of Kan, Li, Kun, and Dui meet the hours of Zi and Wu, recognize the root of your own life. Earth Thunder stirs, and rain descends from the mountain peak. This rain must cleanse the yellow sprout so it can break through the soil and emerge. Once you have seized the essence of Metal, seal it away securely. Cultivate the Qi of Jia and Geng until the Dragon and Tiger appear. If people ask who taught you, simply say that your master’s surname is Lü.

Long ago, a governor who was fond of Daoist arts asked singing girls to perform songs of Daoist sentiment. Unable to comply, one of them sought help from a ritual specialist. Suddenly, a Daoist passed by the gate, asked for wine, and wrote lyrics on the wall before leaving. The next day, the singer performed the song at the governor’s banquet. Astonished, the governor tried to find the Daoist, but he had vanished. Only then did he realize it was Lord Lü. The singer was also released from her register of entertainers and gained her freedom. The song is titled “Steps to the Moon Palace.”

The origins of the Great Dao reach far back, and the secret teachings of perfected adepts who have mastered the Way are hidden and obscure. How could ordinary people know them? The innate primordial Qi naturally separates into pure and turbid. Without understanding how Kan and Li—symbols of Water and Fire, and of Yin-Yang—are used in reverse, how could one discern the rising and sinking of Metal and Wood, Five Phases symbols in Neidan? In the hidden depths, Being arises from Nonbeing. Beside a mountain stream, Tiger and Dragon respond to and unite with one another. The vessel within contains the true workings of creation, gathering the essence of Heaven and marrow of Earth, the Yin soul and Yang spirit. Set the Water and Fire of the celestial circuit in motion, bringing cold and heat into balance. After ten months of nurturing, the embryonic Elixir is shed and the Golden Elixir is complete; every method beyond this is merely an unorthodox path. Do you know how cramped and tumultuous the mortal world is, and how few truly understand these things? The song is titled “Fragrance Filling the Courtyard.”

The immortal’s bearing and Daoist bones can turn Heaven and Earth upside down. At the proper time, bring Metal and Wood together in the positions of Kan and Li. Gather them into a single grain of knife-tip measure, a metaphor for the subtle Elixir perfected through cultivation. The Water Tiger lies concealed, the Fire Dragon settles into stillness, and a radiance bursts forth in ten thousand rays. Immortal flowers bloom, and sacred boys and numinous maidens pluck them. On the night of Mid-Autumn, the Milky Way hangs high; the moon rises from the sea, and waves roll up a thousand layers of white snow. This is the celestial gate and earthly axis. Who can fathom the principles of waxing and waning within them? In an instant, Elixir Qi gathers. At this stage, what formula can carry the work further? Leaning toward the vast sky, give a long cry; within the grotto dwelling lie endless scenes of clarity. The song is titled “The Moon Over the Drunken River.”

The path to longevity lies just a short distance ahead, yet many foolish people fail to see it. The river of desire stretches wide, its winds fierce and its waves high, making it hard for the alchemical boat of cultivation to cross. If one only heeds the immortal master’s instruction a little, a single word of guidance can be enough to reach the other shore. Once the Golden Elixir is refined, one can shed the turbid body of the ordinary world and escape the suffering of falling into the Three Evil Realms—the Buddhist realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and animals.

In all things, concentrate the mind and gather true Yang—the pure Yang Qi spoken of in cultivation—into one place. Clearly recognize the numinous, lucid delight: the original face. Do not casually pass on this deep and subtle teaching. Know that Penglai is home to immortals, who travel together hand in hand and pay homage in the heavens.

My house has three beams and stands upon the source of numinous power, the wellspring of the spirit. It has no partitions; its four walls are empty, plain and spare. The flourishing of all things is like the brackets supporting its roof, and the blue sky is its ceiling. For many years this house has had no leaks. Once cultivators have formed good affinities and completed three thousand meritorious deeds, they can subdue the fire dragon and tame the fierce tiger, becoming immortals on earth. Here, “fire dragon” and “tiger” are symbols in Neidan cultivation for the forces of body and mind that must be regulated and brought under control.

Heaven is not high, nor is the earth vast; only the true mind is present throughout all things. Even when unused, it is whole and at ease. When needed, it is at hand, ready to draw upon, filling the boundless heavens and earth. In the void and among all the things of the mortal world, the returned elixir—the Neidan gained through cultivation—is everywhere, clear and distinct, ready to be gathered and refined. Do you understand this crucible, the body, mind, and methods of alchemical practice? If you can nurture the numinous crow, the lucid Qi that symbolizes the completion of Neidan, it will fly out over a sea of light.

For three hundred years, some have had their deeds recorded in the annals of history; many others have ended as dust. Some saw through glory as a dream of yellow millet, renounced Confucian learning and the path to office, grew weary of worldly life, and withdrew to cultivate the Way. In exchange for a single branch of the cinnabar osmanthus they had cultivated, they gained a thousand years of youth. On Yueyang Tower, wearing a scholar’s cap and holding a feather fan, who could recognize that this was a transcendent being from heaven? In the immortal realm of Penglai, wishes are fulfilled and one may ascend to immortality; who could have imagined meeting the immortals there? From afar, someone plays the sheng in a jade palace as phoenixes dance in ranks. Riding the wind and clouds, they cultivate the immortal realm, where green peaches and purple tung trees remain forever fresh. May I encounter a single elixir and, amid the radiance of nine-colored clouds, take my turn in paying homage to the True Immortals.

The autumn wind sweeps across the Wei River, and fallen leaves blanket Chang’an. The turmoil of the mortal world stretches on without end; only a tranquil, untroubled state of mind brings peace. Taking nature as the furnace and cauldron—a metaphor for alchemical practice—the Dragon and Tiger coil around each other and unite. After nine cycles of refinement, cinnabar is perfected; swallow just one tiny dose of the elixir, and you can become an immortal on earth. Let others enjoy every worldly luxury and ride in splendid carriages: in the end, it all comes to this. Before the yellow millet has finished cooking, the dream has already been broken. Amid a sea of disputes and contention, it is ultimately hard to find a secure place in life. So I set off for Jiangnan, sleeves sweeping behind me, to wander once more among the white duckweed and red flowers, and visit Kapu and Mount Lu.

This is the ci poem “Cuipai Manluhua,” inscribed at a tavern in Chang’an.

End of Volume Six of the Lüzu Zhi.

The following are editorial notes: The original edition omits characters corresponding to “tiger,” “mother,” and “emptiness”; these have been supplied from the Daozang Jiyao edition. In the original, some characters were mistakenly written as “zhi” and “geng”; these have been corrected to “da” and “yu” on the basis of that edition. In addition, the characters corresponding to “longevity,” “only then appears,” “false claims,” “not seen,” “without,” “withdraw,” “Yang,” “noon,” and “wash” have been supplied or corrected according to that edition.