《上乘修真三要》

The so-called “ultimate Dao” (the Way)—the highest Dao—is vast and boundless. The root of cultivating the Dao lies in returning mind and nature to their original authenticity, and in letting substance and function, the provisional and the real, each find its proper place, so that the guiding principles stand clear, all are harmonized with one another, and all return to one.

Within the jade furnace the phases of firing arise; Shen (spirit) and intention are gathered and set to turn the celestial dial—in Neidan (internal alchemy), a figure for the measured movement of Qi (vital energy) within the body—and distracting thoughts like floating clouds are swept entirely away. When intention is in motion, one must seize the timely moments of zi, wu, and the rest, so that the Yang Qi of Qian circulates and the Yin Qi of Kun waxes and wanes. All of this is the practice symbolized by the course of the sun and moon. Heaven and earth endure long; who would willingly let time pass in vain? A single inch of time is worth ten thousand ingots of gold. One who has penetrated the great Dao may travel the whole world and still find it hard to discover the essential point in the everyday life of ordinary people. Who can know that the mystery within has already been exhausted? Only when medicine and illness are set aside together does one reach the great Dao of cultivating the true.

Hymn on the Three Methods

Recognize that fellow who arises for no reason—this thief is called the “mind.” With one great shout of “Stop!” seize the three methods all at once.

Grasp the measure that is exactly right, and the forces of both sides will naturally contend. Bring them to bear upon the heart and cut them off, and the three methods are forgotten together.

This horse runs on all four hooves, and mind and nature will not turn back.

The moment the herd-boy lets it go, he must guard against this “mind-horse” making trouble. Once it has broken free of the restraints on its hooves, its mind has already gone and is hard to recover.

Among ten million horses, it is still hard to find even one willing to lower its head and accept the reins.

This horse is restless and unruly in temper, neighing as it bolts east and west. The herd-boy chases after it, yet still cannot be sure it will not make trouble again.

Just as one first sets hand to the practice, one lets it loose in an idle place.

Led south of the village to graze, the horse unexpectedly takes fright. A single thought sends it dashing east and west, and in a moment it has covered two or three stages of the road.

Its body suddenly leaps, and like a blind person it falls into a deep ditch.

Tie it on the wild outskirts, and the herd-boy must watch it with care. It shakes its head and neighs again and again; once it has been caught and brought back, do not let it wander idly again.

This horse is truly hard to capture.

Note on terms: In the poem the “horse” is a metaphor for the thoughts of the mind, and the “herd-boy” a metaphor for the practitioner. The “three methods” are the three approaches spoken of in the piece, but this passage does not explain their concrete content one by one. The original text breaks off here.

This horse, even with a harness around its neck and its hooves locked, still cannot be securely watched. It cannot even control its own mind, and roaring, it tries once more to break free.

Put on the bridle and tether it well for watching. It still keeps shaking its head and neighing; even once it has been caught, it must not be left to its own devices.

This horse is truly hard to tame.

Even with a harness around its neck and its hooves locked, it still cannot be securely watched. It cannot even control its own mind, and roaring, it tries once more to break free.

Put on the bridle, hobble it, and follow and watch it at all times.

The wild heart runs into the wind, turning away from its original home. Once it has gone far, there is nowhere to seek it. To what far corner of the earth has it run?

When the mind is wild and disordered, one ought often to strike it thirty blows.

This mind-horse—used as a metaphor for thoughts that run free and are hard to tame—must not be left to do as it pleases. When a single thought chases after external things, and there is no wise guidance, where is one to seek the correct Way?

Then it can be tamed of itself, and the principle within truly understood.

A poor horse is especially hard to train. It resists the reins and will even bite its master. Catch it and bring it back, and strike it thirty blows; it will of itself grow tame and obedient.

Put on the bridle and add the whip, and do not let it idle or run wild.

Grip the reins tightly and spur it often. Even when it is allowed to rest in a quiet place, it must still be watched well. The moment the herdboy—here meaning the one who watches and regulates the thoughts of the mind—relaxes, two kinds of entanglement and deviation arise.

In taming the horse one must apply the spur, firmly guard the mind’s thoughts, and lead them with care. If the herdboy cannot watch over the mind, the good nature can hardly manifest of itself.

This horse has neither saddle nor bridle. Bare-backed, it bears no restraint at all.

Just brought back and about to be fed, it snaps the purple reins. Turning from the manger, it neighs at its master again. The wild heart is truly hard to control.

One must not treat it as an ordinary thing, glancing at it lightly and leaving it at that.

It is not a true beast; do not regard it as a fine horse. The moment one relaxes, it will flee, and in pursuing it one can hardly attend to both sides at once.

It is restless and agitated, hard to make gentle.

One must not treat it as an ordinary thing, glancing at it lightly and leaving it at that.

It is not a true beast; do not regard it as a fine horse. The moment one relaxes, it will flee, and in pursuing it one can hardly attend to both sides at once.

This horse has a violent temperament and runs as fast as a flying arrow. One must spur it well thirty times before it can be tamed and made to obey control.

One must guard it with single-minded attention and not let it be fierce, stubborn, and unrestrained.

Place a solid restraint before it, watch it firmly, and do not let it idle. The herdboy must apply the mind diligently and regulate it slowly and gently. Once it is lost, it is hard to attend to both ends at once.

For the time being, do not use this horse as if it were a fine horse.

Even if it is often tethered, do not feed it; drive it with the whip all day long. Only when it grows hungry until midnight does its former gentle nature begin, slightly, to show—and that is a comfort.

This horse is by nature hard to tame; in its heart it always longs to cover a thousand li in a single burst. The herdboy sometimes scolds it and sometimes tends it and teases it, yet once the reins are loosened it is very hard to find again.

Letting it out and bringing it back need not be taken too much to heart.

Leave the horse in the wild countryside. They look after one another, and everything is left to the horse itself. The herdboy flicks his sleeves and strolls at leisure, chanting as he goes; when the horse is brought back, it is returned to its original master.

With a sincere heart the herdboy waves his hand and sings the evening song of returning from pasture.

One must often be watchful and guard both sides. The herdboy leads the horse to the roadside and keeps watch with undivided attention, not shifting a single step, so that the fine horse’s temperament will no longer be wild and restless.

With wild grass and a cold spring for company,

wild grass is its only companion, and the cold spring lies close by. The fine horse stands quietly beside the stream, and the herdboy is at ease and content.

Following its gaze, it lifts its brows—what more, after all, would count as unrestrained?

With wild grass and a cold spring for company,

wild grass is its only companion, and the cold spring lies close by. The fine horse stands quietly beside the stream, and the herdboy is at ease and content.

Following its gaze, it lifts its brows—and what then?

One leisurely enjoys a carefree life beyond the world. One may take up or set down as one pleases, neither constrained nor indulgent. The heart is open and broad, no longer clinging to being alone; transcendent and free of the worldly, one no longer even keeps a grass ladle in mind.

Not for a moment may the fine horse’s nature be left unchecked.

The mind-horse—a metaphor for scattered thoughts that are hard to restrain—runs every day. When will the herdboy ever be at leisure? Once it is caught, do not let it go again; hold it firmly, and it will settle of itself.

Rest while there is leisure; there is no need to rush about making arrangements.

The herdboy sings the song of returning from pasture, laughter unceasing, riding alone at ease and wandering beyond the world. Flowing water, empty mountains, and clouds keep him company; when he returns, his mind is clear, joyful and free of care.

Leading the horse, he turns and goes home, then lets it loose again.

After returning, the herdboy alone sings the evening song of returning from pasture, sighing at length over how much time may yet remain. He loosens the reins and goes back among the woods and springs, free and unfettered beyond the world, letting the hours pass as they will.

A black horse with a silver head—its temperament will not change.

Its inborn nature is good, and it does not forget the herdboy’s careful tending. The herdboy sits at leisure, leaning against a withered pine, and chants in carefree ease.

The herdboy sings and dances, and the fine horse follows close behind.

He leads it to the edge of a cold pool to bathe, washing the grime from its body so that its form is clean. The herdboy sings and dances as he departs, and the fine horse follows tightly behind.

Body and mind rest for the time being, and are able to recover.

A fine horse lets the reins hang slack, waiting to repay its master’s kindness. The Five Luminosities (the five luminous natures spoken of in cultivation) may indeed be taken as a comparison: they stand aloof and preeminent, set apart from all others.

One wishes to climb high and roam far, singing to one’s heart’s content…

A red horse gallops across the West River, and the herdboy stands on the bank. Seize it and do not let it go; even if one beats it to death, what is there to hesitate over?

One must also be on guard lest it cannot be held by the lead and returns fully laden.

The black horse runs about in every direction, while the white ox is penned in day after day. The herdboy faces the Purple Palace (the immortal palace spoken of in Daoism); a clear wind scatters and fills the whole sky.

Gradually one settles this beast and returns it to its original nature…

The white horse is gentle in temperament, and the herdboy need not hurry to lead or drive it.

The black horse runs about in every direction, while the white ox is penned in day after day. The herdboy faces the Purple Palace; a clear wind scatters and fills the whole sky.

Gradually one settles this beast and returns it to its original nature…

The white horse is gentle in temperament, and the herdboy need not hurry to lead or drive it. Beneath the clear wind and bright moon, one sits alone, inquiring into the elixir method (the method of cultivating Neidan, internal alchemy).

Do not crave amusement; the mind of the horse is a thief.

Tether it within “wu” (non-being), and hold it fast so as not to come up empty; let it go and then draw it back, and its wondrous working is naturally inexhaustible. A fine steed does not hinder the aspirations of the noble person; so long as one reins in the dark-maned horse, one can gather in the Five Luminosities.

Stray from the original intent, and it is like a horse with a broken hoof locked away…

In idle hours, beyond the mundane world, one dances to meet the spring wind; taking up the method of Wuwei (non-action), one instead falls into difficulty. Though the waters of the Milky Way flow on past, only then does the herdboy come to understand seeking the principles in the Cantong qi (the classic of Daoist elixir alchemy).

All the former practice is entirely in vain; they hang their heads, facing one another…

Lock it to the Pillar of Original Destiny (the place where, in cultivation, the root of original Qi, vital energy, is said to reside); keep watch at all times and do not let it idle. When it is starved until its coat is parched and withered and its body thin and weak, then set it down and leave it alone.

Cast it aside in the barren outskirts; there is no need to mind it…

The white horse is tethered at the Spirit Terrace (where mind and spirit reside); the herdboy is filled with joy. When one leads it back, it seems already to have cast off the bonds of the dusty world.

While idly watching the green waters, one likewise keeps watch at all times and does not let it idle. When it is starved until its coat is parched and withered and its body thin and weak, then set it down and leave it alone.

Cast it aside in the barren outskirts; there is no need to mind it…

The white horse is tethered at the Spirit Terrace; the herdboy is filled with joy. When one leads it back, it seems already to have cast off the bonds of the dusty world.

Idly one gazes on green waters and blue mountains.

The horse grazes beside the mountain stream; the herdboy rests in a quiet, leisurely place. At dusk one returns to the old home, pointing far off toward the moon at the edge of the sky.

When fretful, one goes alone to rest among the mountain crags…

When fretful, one writes out elixir texts (documents that record the methods of the elixir); when at leisure, one dances a tune. Beyond the east wind one laughs long and loud, and the herdboy is at last free and unconstrained.

One sits down, and the red sun rises two or three pole-lengths high.

The white horse has a green mane, and the Dao (the Way) is not mere emptiness. Riding it, one goes beyond the ordinary world to seek “Cantong”—accord with the Great Dao and awakening to the one principle. One wishes to condense Kunyuan, a yielding primordial Qi (vital energy) that bears the myriad things, into a single point and gather it into the treasury of the Qian Palace, the inner place that symbolizes firm yang and sovereign command.

Only then does the herd-boy understand the nature of the noble person.

Toad-light—moonlight like that of the toad in the moon—shines upon the clouded stream, and the herd-boy dances and plays at ease. Whatever is taken up is swiftly set down; on level ground a clap of thunder suddenly sounds.

The shade of the trees is cool, and the stream murmurs on.

The herd-boy sits upright in a quiet place, while the horse stands beneath the pine. A woodcutter steps forward to ask, yet the herd-boy knows nothing of it at all.

He ranges freely in every direction, and no one comes to inquire.

The fine horse rests in the grove, and the herd-boy plays beneath the cliff. He wanders at ease, without constraint; the will is silent, and his nature is settled like ashes.

His face is full of joy, and he laughs in quiet delight.

The fine horse rides off on the wind, then is gently gathered back before the eyes. Beneath the cliff one roams freely, without hindrance, and the herd-boy sleeps pillowed on moonlight.

The reins hang slack; once they saved their master.

This horse’s temperament is soft as floss, and the herd-boy keeps to his natural disposition. Originally there is nothing at all, and even “nothing” offers nothing to grasp; the original substance is naturally complete.

His nature is pure, good, and at ease, and the Dao is not mere emptiness.

The mind-horse—a figure for thoughts that scatter and will not rest—is empty from the start; one only provisionally calls it running east and west. Catch it and send it all away together, and bright moonlight keeps company while a clear breeze follows along.

Songs and dances fill a thousand pieces, their subtle beauty without end.

The herd-boy sings and dances, freest and most untrammeled of all; in idle leisure, with nothing to do, he takes joy in himself, free of care. He reaches the ends of the earth, yet does not rejoice on his own account; he gathers all of this and hangs it on the tip of the moon.

From ancient times this has been enough to stand as the manner handed down in this tradition.

The airs of Snow Ridge and Mount Song circulate and turn; moonlight in the cold pool settles of itself. Among the green cliffs immortal cassia grows thick, and a wild crane beyond the world calls.

Indeed a pure and harmonious nature has been nurtured.

One wanders at ease, delighting alone between heaven and earth; the body rests in clear leisure beyond the clouds, and nothing presses upon it. Song passes through Snow Ridge and Mount Song as the airs circulate and turn; moonlight in the cold pool settles of itself. Among the green cliffs immortal cassia grows thick, and a wild crane beyond the world calls.

Indeed a pure and harmonious nature has been nurtured.

One wanders at ease, delighting alone between heaven and earth; the body rests in clear leisure beyond the clouds, and nothing presses upon it. The song rises clear and rings through the bright expanse of heaven; sleeves are flung in dance, and still heaven and earth seem not wide enough.

The herd-boy grows joyful once more, ranging as he pleases, free in every direction.

When the moment arrives, one is often as joyful as dancing in the spring breeze; passing in and out between being and non-being, one is bound by nothing. A gentle breeze stirring within a cavern-heaven offers a fitting likeness; auspicious signs gather at the edge of the sky, presenting a scene of perfect fullness and bright clarity.

Strolling at leisure, one wanders through immortal realms beyond the ordinary world.

The white horse and the herdboy go along together, and the state of one who has awakened to the Dao (the Way) is profound without limit. The mysterious principle of true emptiness is suddenly understood of itself.

Alone before the green cliffs, one faces the green pines.

The herdboy accords with what is natural, and the moon’s radiance shines upon the azure sky. The thatched hall is secluded and still, and every line of its poetic cadence holds profound meaning.

The herdboy plays freely before the cliffs.

When the herb-gathering boy has finished his work and rests, the white horse that carries the scriptures also grows idle. The deep meaning of “coming from the West and crossing to the East” no longer concerns the traces of the human world. The thatched hall is secluded and still, and every line of its poetic cadence holds profound meaning.

The herdboy plays freely before the cliffs.

When the herb-gathering boy has finished his work and rests, the white horse that carries the scriptures also grows idle. The deep meaning of “coming from the West and crossing to the East” has already gone beyond the traces and entanglements of the dusty world.

The guest reads poems and books, having long forgotten the years and months.

A clear song with no fixed melody brings delight, as one leisurely intones all manner of wondrous principles. After the three blows have all been struck, among the pines and bamboo only a single pot of rich, mellow brew remains.

Mind and nature are originally empty; there is no need to make a deliberate effort to subdue the “horse of intention” (a metaphor for scattered, unsettled thoughts).

Guarding mind and Shen (spirit), one settles the “monkey of the heart” (a metaphor for restless, agitated thoughts), and the childlike innocence within no longer wanders in every direction. When Neidan (internal alchemy) is accomplished, one understands the principle of creative transformation; beyond the secular world, what remains that still needs cultivating?

One forgets clever artifice and discrimination, and no longer clings to seizing that restless heart.

The bright moon hangs high, clear and boundless, and strikes suddenly upon the mind. When true nature is revealed and does not change, that is the time when the Valley Spirit (the profound, inexhaustible, empty, still, and numinous fundamental reality spoken of in Daoism) is complete.

Then one can set to work and take hold of one’s own nature.

Nature rests at ease in leisure, delighting in cultivation of the Dao, without ever coming to an end. Within the elixir cauldron a verdant elixir-blossom condenses, as if hanging from the branches of the cassia.

In sleep one is free of care and worry, with nothing weighing on the heart.

The realm of joy and freedom lies within this; gathering mind and spirit back, one can realize Cantong (that is, corroboration with the principles of Yin-Yang creative transformation set forth in the Zhouyi Cantong Qi). After seven reversions, the elixir body is fully refined, and there is no need to carry out the further work of nine transmutations.

One turns the principle of the waxing and waning of the “Eight Pure,”

splitting open primordial chaos and boring through heaven and earth. To recognize the principle of “non-being and being” is the family tradition handed down from the beginning.

One acts in keeping with the patterns of ordinary life, yet can adapt with flexibility when the need arises.

Before one knows it, many years have already passed; guarding the two vital apertures of body and mind, one no longer pursues Cantong. After seven reversions the elixir body is refined, and there is no need to carry out the further work of nine transmutations.

One turns the principle of the waxing and waning of the “Eight Pure,”

splitting open primordial chaos and boring through heaven and earth. To recognize the principle of “non-being and being” is the family tradition handed down from the beginning.

One acts in keeping with the patterns of ordinary life, yet can adapt with flexibility when the need arises.

Before one knows it, many years have already passed; guarding the two vital apertures of body and mind, one is peaceful and at ease. The mind is clear and bright, illuminating all things, and even in dreams one does not reach Dengye.

A clear breeze blows aslant, and the evening sun sinks toward the edge of the sky. The crane rises in dance, as if it understood the principles of refining the elixir; the boy sings, and in his song there is a deep and subtle purport. They face one another, yet have little to say; one sees only the bright moon shining on the Toad Palace (the legendary palace within the moon).

It is truly fitting to drink tea together with the mountain boy.

Savoring Zhaozhou tea alone (an allusion to a plain, untrammeled life of Chan tea), one brushes a sleeve and walks out amid the mist and rose-tinted clouds. Dwelling beyond the world, there is no companion to answer in song; the human realm, however, is noisy and tangled, like a snarl of hemp.

Beside the stream one lets go and is at ease, no longer clinging fast to the “I.”

Clapping and laughing, one’s spirits run free; from beyond the world a wild crane comes flying. Where the herdboy is carefree and at leisure, there is yet another Penglai, a realm of the immortals.

Idle flowers and wild grasses are all my home.

On waking, the tale of Lü Dongbin and the Yellow Millet Dream seems right before one’s eyes. Moving peacefully among the wildflowers, as if in a dream, the sun and moon within the pot (in Daoism, a common image for an immortal realm that is a world unto itself) stretch on, long and unhurried.

There is indeed a measure of sincere realization:

A fine horse has, from the beginning, no fixed disposition; the herdboy’s nature of mind is naturally whole and harmonious. Originally there is nothing at all—where, then, can one not rest at ease?

In the place of free and easy wandering, all is the joy of mist and rose-tinted clouds.

Green water mirrors the blue-green mountains; deep in the mist and clouds there seem to be immortals. Parting the moonlight at the sky’s edge, beneath the mountain stream there is likewise a world long and enduring.

There is indeed a measure of sincere realization:

A fine horse has, from the beginning, no fixed disposition; the herdboy’s nature of mind is naturally whole and harmonious. Originally there is nothing at all—where, then, can one not rest at ease?

In the place of free and easy wandering, all is the joy of mist and rose-tinted clouds.

Green water mirrors the blue-green mountains; deep in the mist and clouds there seem to be immortals. Parting the moonlight at the sky’s edge, beneath the mountain stream lies a clear and limpid world.

A human life of a hundred years is as if a single dream.

Brushing a sleeve, one climbs the verdant summit, walking at leisure and according with what is natural. Taking up the myriad things in passing, and then setting them down, one again sees heaven and earth open wide.

One passes the days content with whatever comes, clad in coarse cloth.

Clear breeze and bright moon keep company—when will the spring wind ever cease? The emerald, crystalline pool and the delicate scenery are all matter for the talk of those who live at ease.

The mind is still as withered wood and cold ash.

The herdboy is idle by nature; beneath the mountain stream the water murmurs on. Leisurely viewing the scenery beyond the world, the mountain remains the mountain.

Without deliberate effort, one may still sing and dance at ease.

When one takes them up, it seems there are a thousand things; when one sets them down, there is nothing at all. Waving a sleeve, one walks beyond the world, alone guiding a solitary moon.

Once the fine steed is subdued, it lies beneath the rock.

Sporting like an ape, the herdboy rides the ox backward. Bring it under control and make it follow in calm, and one may rejoice without end.

Best of all is to dwell in seclusion before the mountain peak. When one takes them up, it seems there are a thousand things; when one sets them down, there is nothing at all. Waving a sleeve, one walks beyond the world, alone guiding a solitary moon.

The fine horse is brought in and lies down beneath the rocks, as if the mind-monkey had been subdued and made to settle. The herdboy rides backward on the ox; once it is tamed, he keeps it company, ever at ease and full of joy, without end.

It is best to withdraw from the world and live before the mountain peaks. The Three Realms and the ten directions (a name in Buddhist and Daoist scriptures for the whole world) appear before the eyes, and the clear breeze seems to turn with a movement of the hand. One picks it up and sets it down, and everything is properly handled; after awakening, a thread of leeway still remains.

Joyfully, there is of itself an unmoving nature. One takes up and transforms the being within non-being, setting the many profound methods in motion; when the eye of the “Mysterious Female” (Xuanpin, the subtle source of which Daoism speaks) is opened, ordinary person and sage are clearly distinguished at that moment.

Seated high and settled, the heart is bright and joyful. One picks up the worlds of the ten directions and sets them down again, quietly enjoying the true delight of what is natural. From ancient times to the present, original nature has never changed, yet within the pot there is of itself a scene of sun and moon forever renewed.

Cut off entanglements like tangled vines, and give rise no more to delusive dreams. The white horse is beneath the rocks, and the herdboy sleeps soundly; person and horse alike rest peacefully unmoving, and the bright moon shines upon the green mountains. On a clear, still night, where is it not one expanse of brightness?

At the three blows and four calls (blowing, commands, or ritual language in cultivation), both the boy and the horse disappear. Wuwei (non-action) alone is the true Great Dao (the Way); this, it turns out, is the original house style. Person and horse alike rest peacefully unmoving, and the bright moon shines upon the green mountains. On a clear, still night, where is it not one expanse of brightness?

After the three blows and four calls, both the boy and the horse disappear. Wuwei alone is the true Great Dao; this, it turns out, is the original house style.

Forget words, and one can hold original nature entire. When words are forgotten, thoughts do not arise in the mind; the moment a thought of the mind arises, affliction arises with it. When mind and things are forgotten together, there is nothing that cannot be embraced.

One cultivates in a small hermitage, hidden away and cut off from the outside world. The “Spirit Terrace” (Lingtai, the dwelling place of the mind and Shen (spirit)) is secluded, pure, and still; the eight leaves and seven flowers are all symbolic expressions in cultivation. Sitting alone in stillness in a thatched hut that casts no shadow, one kindles and refines cinnabar (a symbol of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice).

After the horse dies, one walks off alone at leisure. The “horse” here may refer to the mind’s intention or to the ties of body and mind; when those ties subside, one worries no longer and travels alone for ten thousand li. The nature of spiritual brightness is neither bound nor hindered, nor does it cling and remain in any one place.

Carefree and at ease, without sorrow; coming and going in every direction, free in movement. Singing and dancing, one rides away on the wind, and the bright moon shines on the southern tower.

One walks swiftly, yet reveals a nature that is leisurely and free. Within ignorance (the confusion of not understanding the truth) there is also true nature, and emptiness itself is the Dharma-body (the body that embodies truth). After awakening, one finds that there is not a single thing to grasp; precisely because nothing is clung to, the myriad things reveal what is real.

Always keep to the One; do not speak of it as three. Always abide in the realm that is not empty and yet empty; the myriad things are originally nothing—this is the original house style. Cast off every bond, and emptiness itself is the Dharma-body. After awakening, one finds that there is not a single thing to grasp; precisely because nothing is clung to, the myriad things reveal what is real. Always keep to the One; do not speak of it as three.

To constantly abide in that state of “empty yet not empty” is itself the root of cultivation. When one is freed from the bonds of the body and completely forgets all discrimination, one withdraws into the Great Void (Taixu, the vast and boundless emptiness).

In the darkness of night, the light is not obscured.

Raising the Xuanyuan mirror (a bright mirror in Daoist imagery), its cool radiance shines toward the azure sky. A clear wind rises from beneath the cliffs, leaving only the traces of colored clouds as they drift past.

Beside the furnace one warms the scrolls, then ceases pure conversation.

My mind is like the autumn moon, and like the bright moonlight in a deep green pool. Nothing in the world can compare with it—how am I to make it clear?

Person and horse forget one another, yet all remains silent, without words.

The state in which the two forget each other is the hardest to explain in words; its subtle function continues without end. True learning lies in Wuwei (non-action), and the root of Wuwei is to follow what is natural of itself.

Inwardly one guards the original truth and nurtures the natural.

Inwardly preserving the golden truth (the inner true nature of the Golden Elixir, Jindan), one upholds the precepts and transcends the four modes of birth (womb-born, egg-born, moisture-born, and transformation-born). Originally there is not a single thing; when the mind is open and empty, one is free and unobstructed.

The Great Dao (the Way) does not require the deliberate pursuit of clever skill.

The Great Dao is originally without partial feeling; good and evil, and clever contrivance, all arise from discrimination. Set all these discriminations aside, and the mysterious gate of the Great Dao is opened through.

When hungry, eat; when tired, sleep.

When hungry, one eats; when drowsy, one sleeps at ease. People are originally unconstrained—where is it that one cannot follow what is natural?

After attaining the Dao and returning to the One, one forgets the deluded mind and single-mindedly guards the One.

After obtaining the One, forget the deluded mind and hold to the original One; when the mind is free of stray thoughts, nature and disposition can remain firm and lasting. Silently one circulates the celestial circuit (Zhou Tian, the circulatory movement of Qi, vital energy, in Neidan, internal alchemy), facing south yet seeming to behold the Northern Dipper.

The gate of all wonders is mysterious, and mysterious again.

The wondrous gate is often closed and originally has no fixed traces; once it is taken up, it opens suddenly and broadly, as if extending eighty thousand li. Cut off tangled thoughts, cease to sink into delusive dreams, fully awaken to these successive layers of mystery, and arrive directly at the Shangqing (the higher celestial realm spoken of in Daoism).

When the jade embryo is refined (an image in Neidan of the elixir’s completion), one can divide and unite the transformations of creation.

How many cultivators in the world have refined the jade embryo? Their movement reaches upward to heaven and downward to earth, circulating in complete harmony, and from beginning to end remains a single flavor of pure truth.

Within the gourd there is another heaven and earth.

Looking up, one does not see heaven; looking down, one does not see earth. The wondrous realm within emptiness is hard to put into words; the nurturing transformation of the Dao has no limit.

The Dharma-body (the practitioner’s true body that transcends physical form) is pure and clear, and penetrates the Three Heavens (a Daoist way of speaking of the celestial realms).

I come from purity and clarity, and in the end return to purity and clarity. Clear and penetrating beyond the nine heavens, only numinous nature remains alone, with nothing to cling to.

Names and appearances are in the end only designations set up for convenience; all of them should be forgotten, and there is no need to speak further.

Who is it that raises the stringless zither? With only a skillful touch, a clear, far-carrying song is drawn forth. All at once spring thunder crashes, and its force reaches beyond the clouds of the nine heavens.

A formless treasure pagoda remains ever manifest before the eyes.

In the east the lingzhi herb comes forth; in the west the golden flower forms. One who willingly embraces Wuwei (non-action) and seems foolish and dull is fully able to become the seven-storied treasure pagoda.

The golden dragon and the sovereign travel astride one another, and the years of life stretch on without end.

At a single strike, the Mysterious Gate—the pathway of Daoist cultivation and of awakening to the Dao (the Way)—opens wide, and the mysteries of the various Perfected are penetrated. Xuanyuan (the legendary Yellow Emperor) attends court at the Golden Portal (the palace of the celestial realm), and the Great Spirit mounts a crane and ascends. One who willingly embraces Wuwei and seems foolish and dull is fully able to become the seven-storied treasure pagoda.

The golden dragon and the sovereign travel astride one another, and the years of life stretch on without end.

At a single strike, the Mysterious Gate opens wide, and the mysteries of the various Perfected are penetrated. Xuanyuan attends court at the Golden Portal, and the Great Spirit mounts a crane and flies away.

Original nature melts away, and the thoughts of the mind are forgotten as well, yet there is nothing to be done.

Original nature melts away and the thoughts of the mind are exhausted; within, all is vast and empty, returning to primordial chaos. How could the offspring of the lion of Wuwei fail to keep to its proper place?

The whole body is luminous, displaying a striking toad-light.

The whole body is luminous, displaying a striking toad-light; clear and vivid, it is like the quintessence of the cinnabar phoenix. Perfectly round and without flaw, it is like a bright mirror beyond the world; radiantly brilliant, it is the purple-gold immortal body.

When it first comes into being, one does not know whose child it is.

From nothingness a single Qi (vital energy) is born, and that single Qi appears anew at the Great Beginning. Whose child it ultimately is cannot be known; the cultivator must return to the source and restore the pristine, genuine nature.

It turns out to be none other than the primordial Purple-Gold Immortal.

In the Yuanshi Yuqing Heaven (one of the celestial realms venerated in Daoism), the underlying reality indicated by all the various titles is in every case what is naturally so. Clear as a bright, unsullied mirror, it is the purple-gold immortal of Daluo (the supreme celestial realm spoken of in Daoism).

End of the upper fascicle of Shangcheng Xiuzhen Sanyao (Three Essentials of the Superior Vehicle for Cultivating the True).

Lower fascicle of Shangcheng Xiuzhen Sanyao

Expounded by Elder Yuanming

The Great Dao of the Zhouyi Cantong, Part One

Xijiang Yue (Moon over the West River)

When chaos first opens and the myriad things have not yet divided, heaven and earth are like an egg, dim and silent, filling the void. The vast, pure Taisu (the undifferentiated primordial state) contains Hongmeng (the chaotic condition before heaven and earth open); a single Qi cycles and returns, condensing thick and deep. Within are stored True Water and True Fire; the two Qi interweave in dense generative vapor and congeal like ice. The Yuanshi Qi at the center puts forth its mysterious function; from this the three Qi differentiate and return to Taiding (a state of utmost stability).

The oral formula says:

The exquisite Xijiang Yue

When chaos first opens and the myriad things have not yet divided, heaven and earth are like an egg, dim and silent, filling the void. The vast, pure Taisu contains Hongmeng; a single Qi cycles and returns, condensing thick and deep. Within are stored True Water and True Fire; the two Qi interweave in dense generative vapor and congeal like ice. The Yuanshi Qi at the center puts forth its mysterious function; from this the three Qi differentiate and return to Taiding.

The oral formula says:

A skilled hand opens the “eyes” of the whole body, stirs the two pivotal apertures, and brings the five luminous pearls into view. The heart-medicine is gathered into three hundred characters, while the refining of heart and nature is set down in a single scroll of the Yinfu Jing (scripture/classic).

The Correct Way of the Substance and Function of Qian and Kun, Two

To the Tune Sumuzhe: Illuminating the Heart

The great Dao (the Way) in the Cantong Qi is profound and hard to fathom. Once a single point breaks open the heart that is originally perfect and luminous, one can see whether one is awake or lost. Every ordinary gesture has its distinction between clarity and dullness. Within Qian and Kun one must nourish the elixir-source, Neidan (internal alchemy), and must not depart from true emptiness, the realm of empty stillness free of clinging.

Medicine lies stored in Kun and should be gathered and refined according to the mutual correspondence of Yin-Yang. Once gathered, it is entrusted to Dinggong—the partner in the alchemical process who stands for joining and harmonizing—to be combined with it. Together they are refined into a single pellet of precelestial savor. After it is taken, one may ascend as an immortal and, riding a crane, roam beyond the world.

To the Tune Langtaosha

One bows in homage to the host of immortals and awakens to the mystery of the creative transformations of Qian and Kun. The nine true breaths—the method, in cultivation, of regulating and circulating the breath—are set in motion, and the breath moves like mist upon a river. Following the method transmitted by one’s teacher, as accurately as an arrow striking the red center, it can circulate through the whole body.

Beyond the world one gathers and refines mercury and lead—terms in Neidan for the medicines that symbolize Yin and Yang—so that the elixir is complete in both Yin and Yang. One and the same waxing and waning holds two layers of mystery. One raises the cinnabar cauldron formed of the two Yins and refines until the elixir is full and complete.

Oral Formula of Cultivation

The heart-medicine is hidden in Kun; the elixir must be joined with the nature in Qian. The firing has no fixed measure of weight; its subtlety lies in the precelestial.

Explanation

Qian and Kun—in the Yijing they represent Heaven and Earth, and they also symbolize Yin-Yang—differentiate out of chaos and form substance and function. The two hexagrams Qian and Kun each have six lines and represent the root of precelestial creative transformation.

Qian as nature, Kun as heart, and being and non-being are the principles of Neidan cultivation. The six lines of the Qian hexagram are each counted as thirty-six, totaling two hundred sixteen; the six lines of the Kun hexagram are each counted as twenty-four, totaling one hundred forty-four. The two hexagrams together come to twelve lines and three hundred sixty, matching the three hundred sixty days of a year. The cultivator accords with the seasons of Heaven and the lay of Earth, cultivating in harmony with creative transformation; gathering morning and evening and refining each day, one can congeal and form the elixir.

The Correct Way of the Elixir Cauldron of Qian and Kun, Three

To the Tune Xiaoyaoling

If you ask about the Dao, you need only let the valley spirit—the empty, still, and inexhaustible spiritual nature (Shen, spirit) of which Daoists speak—flow through unhindered. Take Qian and Kun as the elixir cauldron, follow the seasons of Heaven and match the lay of Earth, and cultivate according to the principle of creative transformation; gathering morning and evening and refining each day, the marvel of forming the elixir may naturally be expected.

You ask for the essentials of cultivating the Dao (the Way). You need only grasp the “valley spirit”—the inner Shen (spirit) that is empty, still, and yet inexhaustible—and you will penetrate through. Take heaven and earth as the elixir cauldron (the vessel in which the elixir is refined, and also the body and mind on which practice depends). The principle of Yin-Yang transformation within it has a wondrous efficacy without end. When the mind is limpid and clear, one who has transcended the dusty world can put this mysterious skill into practice. Set aside every vain, floating, and unreliable thing; with the bright pearl in hand, you can awaken to the way of the elixir. As cultivation advances with vigorous effort, you will at last break through barrier upon barrier.

The elixir is refined in the jade furnace; only through repeated forging does the highest subtlety appear. Diligently gather in the “tortoise and snake of the sea floor,” symbols of the Yin and Yang Qi (vital energy) within the body, draw them into the pot to be smelted and transformed, and bring to completion a full and luminous awakening. That radiance shines without bound, brilliant and bright. To obtain this way of long life by following the natural course, one must rely on the restraint of the precepts, so that merit and conduct come to fulfillment. Then, putting on straw sandals, one can walk upon the clouds.

The oral instruction says: the mysterious female (the profound gateway that, as Daoists say, brings forth the myriad things) opens through to the inner movement of Qi and, in an unbroken continuity, nourishes the valley spirit. Wuwei (non-action) alone is the true great Dao; by the work of the elixir cauldron, Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) is refined.

The diagram of the elixir cauldron is derived from the principle of substance and function in Qian and Kun (heaven and earth, Yin and Yang). The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang within the elixir cauldron are explained according to the twelve lines (the line positions of the hexagrams): a Yin line, meeting Yin and changing, is counted as two, and so old Yin is twenty-four; a Yang line, meeting Yang and changing, is counted as three, and so old Yang is thirty-six. Following the method of the elixir cauldron, the practitioner nourishes the Yang Qi of Qian and tempers the Yin Jing (essence) of Kun, using Yang Qi to refine and transform Yin Jing, until at last the Neidan (internal alchemy) is formed.

The elixir curves round like a reclining moon, and the principle of refining the elixir likewise has its proper path. Medicinal materials and methods of cultivation may be drawn on without end, yet they must be gathered in continually. Refine and nourish with pure unity in the elixir cauldron, concentrate on a single method, and you can reach samādhi (the state of deep concentration). If you do not truly comprehend, then even ten thousand methods are useless. Clarity, stillness, and Wuwei are the house tradition of this cultivation, the purest and most precious. It is most fitting to transmit this method to one who truly understands. Open and inquire into the Cantong qi, the Daoist Jing (scripture/classic) of elixir refinement, and wisdom can arise beyond the world. When Qian and Kun are filled with perfect light, cultivation has made real progress. Once you truly understand, you may sleep at ease beneath the quilt.

The oral instruction says: Circulate the inner Qi along the passes on both sides of the spine, preserve and nourish Jing and Shen, and let primordial Qi gather toward the elixir source. Gently turn the movement of Qi that returns the elixir, and at midnight it is as if one rides a luan bird up to the palace of the moon.

Gaze toward Penglai.

The message of the true transmission is like the bright moon shining to the ends of the earth. The jade rabbit and the colored toad appear on the moonlit night of the fifteenth; the golden crow rises in flight and breathes forth red clouds. A person of the Dao (the Way) need only guard this single point of true intent, as if tasting a cup of clear tea.

In a place of purity, stillness, and lofty remoteness, one lives in seclusion and cultivates the purple cinnabar. In the Crescent Moon Furnace—in Neidan (internal alchemy), a furnace-and-cauldron used as a metaphor for the process of refining and nourishing—one cooks the jade medicine, and in the cinnabar tripod golden flowers take form. This practice is transmitted to those of the Dao.

The so-called Crescent Moon Furnace is drawn from the metaphor of cauldron cultivation: the infant-like clear and pure Qi (vital energy) symbolized by the Qian hexagram intermingles with the active, turbid Yin Qi symbolized by the Kun hexagram. The hexagrams Qian and Kun each have six lines, twelve lines in all; five days make one pentad, and by this the firing times of elixir refinement are figured. There are seventy-two pentads in the course of the months, and each of the twelve months of the year has its corresponding essentials.

The Orthodox Way of the Ascent and Descent of the Firing Times, the Fifth

To the tune of Su Muzhe

Only when contention and rivalry are eliminated does one truly master the firing times. The ascent and descent of the movements of Qi depend entirely on this single point of elixir intent, and not the slightest bit may be lost. One holds fast to the original reality of the primordial beginning, at the moment when the universe was opened.

When the moon reaches the Palace of Li—the Li position among the directions of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), which symbolizes fire—divine spirits naturally extend their protection. By refining and nurturing the Qi of the harmonious union of Heaven and Earth, the true medicine is brought to completion. Only a moment’s work is required; what matters is who can penetrate the principle within. In an immortal realm like jade bamboo shoots, immortal music seems to sound. When at dawn the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the three highest deities venerated in Daoism, appear, one may endure through ten thousand kalpas and enjoy a lifespan of everlasting spring.

Oral formula

A single point of pure Yang true fire rises all at once to Guanghan, the moon palace of legend. It then descends and returns to the Sea of Qi, the place of the Dantian (energy center) below the navel. One regulates and evens the breathing, so that the dragon and tiger—a metaphor in Neidan for the two Qi of Yin-Yang—turn over and join together.

To the tune of Lin Jiangxian

After the precious sword is honed anew, its splendor shows forth, full and bright, shining without limit. The clear, white moonlight fills the Toad Palace.

In this realm of fullness and generous breadth, immortals seem to dwell among the pines and junipers. A jade-like radiance over the whole face stirs and dances as if moved by the wind; silver-white peaks spread out among pavilions of emerald cloud.

The immortal crane comes first to announce the edict of the Jade Emperor. One then mounts a luan and flies away, brushing one’s sleeves to go and have audience with the Celestial Worthy of the Primordial Beginning, one of the revered deities of Daoism.

The symbolic pattern of the ascent and descent of Qian and Kun, and of the transformations of Yin-Yang, emerges from the crescent-moon furnace (in the practice of Neidan [internal alchemy], the symbolic place of refinement and nourishment). The hexagrams Qian and Kun are the parents of Yin and Yang; to go a step further and exclude the Four Images refers precisely to the four hexagrams Kan, Li, Zhen, and Dui. The scripture says that Yang is conceived within Yin, and that the hexagram Qian is stored within the hexagram Kun.

The hexagrams Kun and Qian each have twelve line-positions. When Qian and Kun interchange, they together produce the changes of twelve lines, and thus correspond to the twenty-four solar terms. Every fifteen days forms one medial solar term (zhongqi), and another fifteen days forms one nodal solar term (jieqi); the zhongqi belongs to Yin, and the jieqi belongs to Yang.

Once the Four Images Kan, Li, Zhen, and Dui are removed from the sixty-four hexagrams, sixty hexagrams remain. Each hexagram has six lines, making three hundred and sixty lines in all, corresponding to the three hundred and sixty days of a year. The changes from the winter solstice to the hour of wu comprise one hundred and eighty Yang lines; the Qi (vital energy) of Qian increases, and at this time one refines and nourishes “yellow gold” (a Neidan term referring to the Qi of true Yang). The changes from the summer solstice to the hour of zi comprise one hundred and eighty Yin lines; the Qi of Kun recedes, and at this time one refines and nourishes “mercury” (a Neidan term that commonly refers to the Qi of true Yin). Qian and Kun are the root of the transformations of Yin and Yang and of the sixty-four hexagrams. What is called “obtain the one and forget the one” means that, after grasping one side, one does not cling to the opposite side. “Kun as the body and Qian as the heart”—that is, taking Kun as the body and Qian as the heart—is the essential secret of refining the elixir.

The Correct Path of Samadhi, the Sixth

Sumuzhe

Close the mysterious pass (in cultivation, the inner aperture) and penetrate samadhi (a state of concentrated, profound practice). The immortal elder who gathers the medicine has already received the true message. The reed flowers beside the willow bank appear still more verdant. White clouds spread across the earth; this scene is understood only by those who truly comprehend it.

If only one takes it up, one may follow the heart and have all as one wishes. This is a transmission of one’s proper portion, to be entrusted to those who cultivate with a sincere heart. That single point of the message is like reed flowers on the willow bank taking on a deeper green, with white clouds covering the ground; it can only be grasped by each person alone. A single pearl of Shen (spirit), bright and limpid, shines through and dispels the turmoil of the dusty world; when one meets a person of affinity, one confirms it for that person and bestows the prediction of attainment.

The formula says

Gather in the fire of samadhi and let it circulate all day within the Palace of Kun (a Neidan term for the position of Kun, or the part of the body corresponding to Kun). When the numinous elixir is refined into a single grain, it is entrusted to Dinggong (a common title for immortals and perfected beings in the classics).

Langtaosha

In emptiness and stillness, turn through one celestial cycle (in cultivation, the process by which the dynamic of Qi completes a full circuit), and observe the waxing and waning of Qian and Kun and of Yin and Yang; a brightness like moonlight then gradually appears. Lead and mercury (Neidan terms, used figuratively to refer respectively to the Jing [essence] and Qi of Yin and Yang), once transmuted, reach the number of seven thousand, and the work of cultivation likewise gradually comes to fulfillment.

Ceaselessly temper body and mind, then let go of attachment and bring the achievement to a complete close. At the juncture where the hours of zi and wu alternate, stop choutian (a Neidan term for regulating and increasing or decreasing the Qi of Yin and Yang). When the eighty-four thousand meritorious practices are fulfilled, one may suddenly awaken and attain the state of an immortal.

The firing times of the celestial circuit come from the Crescent Moon Furnace, the symbolic furnace and cauldron of Neidan (internal alchemy). They explain the work of refining and nourishing through the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang in the two hexagrams Qian and Kun. The six lines of Qian grow gradually from the bottom upward, symbolizing the Qi (vital energy) of the six yang as it moves from the hour of zi to the hour of si, so that the elixir of pure yang is refined in the golden cauldron. The six lines of Kun then gradually recede, symbolizing the Qi of the six yin as it moves from the hour of wu to the hour of hai, so that the medicine of pure yin is refined in the earthen cauldron. Qian and Kun stand for Heaven and Earth, and they also symbolize the root from which the myriad things are generated and transformed.

From the line “initial nine” to the winter solstice, and according to the rhythms of heavenly time described in the scripture, rising yang Qi and the coming and going of Yin-Yang each have their corresponding solar terms and measures of Qi. With each breath out and breath in of the practitioner, the channels of Qi travel three inches. The scripture sets this movement of the breath against the daily number of eighty-four thousand: on the greater scale, one day refines an elixir of eighty-four thousand; on the lesser scale, one double-hour circulates a medicine of thirteen thousand five hundred.

The Three Origins and the Three Palaces

Xijiang Yue

The subtle root is the true fire of the Three Origins, the name in Neidan cultivation for original Qi and for the firing times. Gather it in and temper it again and again, and the elixir medicine can be refined. When its power is complete, there are two hundred and forty in all, each one round, full, and bright, showing its true form. Red clouds wind about the elixir; after Dinggong takes it, he ascends and becomes an immortal. Sleeping and waking in the Yellow Chamber, the inner palace of the body as figured in Neidan practice, one is always silent and says nothing. Only then does the Infant appear—the figure of the inner elixir, or of original Shen (spirit), gained through cultivation—and one treasures it and cannot bear to let it go.

Lesser Yang is four times seven, twenty-eight in all; Lesser Yin is four times eight, thirty-two in all.

Sumuzhe

Gather the Three Flowers—Jing (essence), Qi, and Shen—and join the Four Images, the four signs that in cultivation stand for the transformations of Yin-Yang and the like. A single Qi runs through, rising and falling without cease above and below, flying into the Muddy Pellet, the Neidan palace in the head, and sending forth a radiance of a hundred zhang. Through long months and years of cultivation, one refines a realm like a canopy of fine jade. One realizes the primordial Dao (the Way) and comes into the presence of the supreme realm; one rests securely in the central and correct position and undergoes the tempering of thirty blows, three times five. Cultivated to this point, there is no longer any coming or going. Such a house style of the mind-dharma is indeed without delusion.

Key sayings

Gradually let go of the Three Origins, and in an instant remove the Four Images. If every dharma is gone, then what does it look like?

The Orthodox Way of the True Medicine of the Seven Returns, Section Eight

Xijiang Yue

The seven returns of cinnabar bring it back to its source. In refining the elixir, one must each day, at the proper times, warmly nurture it and cook and refine it. The medicinal substance is gathered from the Kun position (the direction symbolizing Yin and Earth) and sent into the Qian position (the direction symbolizing Yang and Heaven), so that the Black Tiger and the Red Dragon (figures for the two Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang) meet. “Tai” and “Pi” (hexagrams in the Yijing, here figures for the changes of Yin and Yang) are harmonized and brought into one. Centered harmony is taken as the guiding principle, so that the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) returns to its source. The light of numinous clarity pierces the nine heavens; within quiet stillness and settled concentration, it is as if a bright moon appears upon a mountain summit.

The Formula Says: Clouds Gleaming with the Moon

The seven returns of cinnabar bring it back to its source. In refining the elixir, one must each day, at the proper times, warmly nurture it and cook and refine it. The medicinal substance of the Kun position is gathered and sent into the Qian position, so that the Black Tiger and the Red Dragon meet. Yin and Yang are harmonized and brought into one; centered harmony is taken as the guiding principle, so that the Qi of the Five Phases returns to its source. The light of numinous clarity pierces the nine heavens; within quiet stillness and settled concentration, it is as if a bright moon appears upon a mountain summit.

The Formula Says: Clouds Gleaming Azure

At daybreak, the void across ten thousand li is perfectly luminous, clear, and bright. Moonlight is reflected in a thousand places, while a single point of the sun’s light is rising within them.

To the Tune of Sumuzhe

One seeks the root of the Primordial Beginning, and there is just then a pair of things that match. The true medicine used in the seven returns is formed by combining two elixir materials. Mastery of the firing schedule and the dosage is profound and subtle. The medicinal Qi rises and descends, and the scene within is not understood by onlookers. Apply yourself to the cultivation, and do not be greedy for sleep. The crucial point does not lie in some fixed “middle position,” nor is the mystery confined to the inside or the outside of the body. The movement of Qi travels along two passes on the spine and displays auspicious signs. A luminous pearl ascends onto the back of the azure dragon.

The Formula Says

A luminous pearl is split into two halves. The outward appearance is cast aside, and the treasure within is kept.

The Orthodox Dao (the Way) of the Great Elixir of the Nine Returns, the Ninth

To the Tune of Xijiangyue

The wondrous medicine of the nine-cycled numinous elixir has from ancient times been a single point of original true nature. When the immortals obtain it, they become celestial beings; in the universal deliverance of all living beings, everyone has the opportunity. At root there is only the single ingredient, cinnabar; what is called the return of original Qi is further likened to black tin and white silver. It is transported by the River Cart (a metaphor for the pathway along which Qi circulates within the body), while the heart’s Shen (spirit) is set in charge, until one at last understands that the wondrous principle lies within the square inch of the heart.

To the Tune of Sumuzhe

The wondrous method makes original Qi return to its source and keeps it for a long time without loss. The elixir is like white silver; who would not treasure it? King Wu will take it up to teach you the principle within: polish it into a silver pot and carry it to the street to sell. Three parts are kept and two parts are given up; the most profound practice can skillfully accomplish a very great effect. After ten days it may reach completion, and one may drink one’s fill. Once drunk, go on to the immortal realm of the peaches of immortality; do not be startled. Beginning from zi, wu, and xu (names of the double-hours), one completes the Elixir of the Nine Returns.

Within the elixir is stored a vast heaven and earth, and within the pot itself there are sun and moon of long duration. One true message I once obtained, and I am willing to share it with you.

The source is not borrowed or sought from outside, and returning to the root and reverting to the origin need not be sought outwardly either. Once this bit of cinnabar is obtained, it can be transmitted to you.

The Orthodox Way of Qian and Kun, the Sun and the Moon, Tenth

Take in the essence within the pot, and condense the sun and moon within it. Even if it takes only a moment’s effort, one must still cultivate continuously without cease. The reed flowers along the bank are white as snow. The elixir never needed to be sought outside; once this bit of cinnabar is obtained, it can be transmitted to you.

The Orthodox Way of Qian and Kun, the Sun and the Moon, Tenth

Take in the essence within the pot, and condense the sun and moon within it. Even in the space of a moment, one must temper the work without interruption. The reed flowers along the bank are white as snow. When the elixir comes flying, how am I to explain it clearly? The great Dao (the Way) cannot be put into words; this is the secret of the True One. After attaining the Dao, one need only abide at ease in plain simplicity, until the immortal crane comes to receive and guide one to an immortal realm beyond this world. If the affinity is present, one may ascend in broad daylight and attend audience at the golden gates of heaven.

Heaven and earth are contained within the elixir, and sun and moon exist of themselves within the pot. By continually gathering and refining the essence within, one can refine an elixir white as snow.

Su Muzhe

Leap free of the constraints of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and cultivate the way beyond this world. On the farther shore the reed flowers grow thick, and red clouds descend in dense banks. The scene before the eyes is vast, yet it leaves a person sunk in drowsy confusion. One must awaken people, sort matters out from the beginning, and bring each essential point into accord with the others. The moon amid the snow, the sun within the pot. Alone, steering a small boat, one circulates with an emptied mind the auspicious Qi (vital energy), like a wind through the pines. This wondrous method can help you dissolve guilt and transgression. I urge you all: do not obscure the original nature.

Leap free of the constraints of the Five Phases, and find the way beyond this world. Once the pure Dharma-body has been cultivated, one can enter the highest realm.

Xi Jiang Yue

Set in motion the wondrous method of ascent in flight, and refine a single grain of cinnabar. Morning and evening, gather and refine the adept’s essence; after ten days the work is complete. Bring the course of the Jade Balance back into true alignment, and set moving the clouds and roseate mists of every direction. Sitting alone in stillness within a small hermitage is the cultivation of the immortals. Apart from sleep, none of the myriad things can be relied upon. The hexagram Qian and the hexagram Kun each have six lines, twelve lines in all; within the twelve double-hours of day and night, each double-hour has eight ke and four miao. They therefore total one hundred and eight zhu, and at every moment one must apply effort to refining the elixir.

Notes on Terminology

Expressions such as “sun and moon within the pot,” “cinnabar,” and “gathering and refining” are symbolic formulations in Neidan (internal alchemy). They refer, respectively, to the heaven and earth within the practitioner’s body and mind, to the Jing (essence) and Qi obtained through cultivation, and to the process of gathering and condensing inner essence and vital energy. The Five Phases refer to Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, and the “Dharma-body” refers to the pure condition of body and mind attained through cultivation. Quantitative expressions such as “one hundred and eight zhu” concern the scheduling of the hours of alchemical practice. The original text is repetitive at this point and contains missing or erroneous characters, so the meaning of some sentences is difficult to establish with certainty.

A cart bears materials piled high as a mountain. A little white calcium is added, and together they are blended into a cake, then rolled into a round mass that looks as vast as Heaven. Steamed to readiness by the Qi (vital energy) of chaos, it comes to be exactly one. Taken up at one’s ease, it is left to see who can chew it to pieces.

The Orthodox Way of Transcendence through the True Yuan, Eleven

“Su Muzhe”

The great True Yuan—the primordial true Qi on which cultivation of the Real depends—surpasses the dharma-realm, the realm formed, in Buddhist and Daoist usage, by all phenomena and all governing principles. Refined again and again, the essential brilliance passes through kalpic calamities and is still not destroyed. Seven golden lotuses, vast in spiritual power, universally ferry lost beings, who go together to the Banquet of the Immortal Peaches. The purple Golden Elixir and pieces of white jade are, everywhere, perfectly complete, bright, and pure; their light shines clear, and through kalpic calamities they abide forever without decay. Seven golden lotuses, vast in spiritual power, universally ferry lost beings, who go together to the Banquet of the Immortal Peaches. The purple Golden Elixir and pieces of white jade are, everywhere, perfectly complete, bright, and pure; their light shines clear and appears at every moment. A pure current of the Qi of the Dao (the Way) circulates beyond the dusty world. The Yang Shen (yang spirit)—the positive spirit-consciousness brought to completion by the practitioner—fills the whole body; in its going out and coming in, its passing back and forth, none can compare with it.

The key says

The Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) adept who has transcended the dusty world is like an elixir moon at the tip of a plum branch. It is so vast that nothing lies outside it, and the mystery within is hard to put into words.

“Xiaoyao Ling”

The true great Dao frees a person from the bonds of bodily form and makes one a divine immortal. The practitioner and the great Dao were never different to begin with; when merit and practice are fulfilled, the Jade Emperor issues a decree of summons, and one rides an immortal crane to seek audience with Yuanshi Tianzun, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning. As one mounts the void and departs, the myriad phenomena and principles cannot be exhausted in speech. I alone pass beyond the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm. The great Dao of Mysterious Origin is non-dual and perfectly complete. It is also like a boat that ferries people, bringing salvation to beings throughout the four seas.

The Great Dao of Wuwei, Twelve

“Su Muzhe”

This great Dao of Wuwei (non-action) is born prior to Heaven. Within being there is non-being, and within non-being there is being; truly its wonders are endless. The highest realm is not sheer emptiness—who has truly arrived there? One can only force upon it the label “name,” and for the time being use the word “Dao” to indicate it. The great Dao is constant and real, profound and hard to fathom. Awaken to its image of perfect brightness, and one can grasp the fundamental principle of returning to the One; this is a gate of sudden realization. The mind-seal transmitted from generation to generation—the essential point passed from mind to mind between master and disciple—is precious as a treasure. It can surpass every side path and alone make manifest the true great Dao.

The key says

The mysterious image reaches through to the deep, secluded valley; the fundamental body of true emptiness accords with what is natural. One forces upon it the name “great Dao,” and this principle may not be casually passed on by people of the ordinary world.

“Wang Penglai”

In the realm where there is nothing to be had and nothing at all, the great Dao is wordless from the beginning. Gather the myriad phenomena and principles together, and they may be summed up in a single phrase; yet if one must force out what the true great Dao actually is…

The key says

The mysterious image reaches through to the deep, secluded valley; the fundamental body of true emptiness accords with what is natural. One forces upon it the name “great Dao,” and this principle may not be casually passed on by people of the ordinary world.

“Wang Penglai”

The Great Dao originally abides in the realm of “non-being,” which no words can describe. If one tries to sum up the myriad things and the myriad methods, one can only reluctantly utter the single word “Dao” (the Way), and then refer to it by such names as “Elixir” and “Immortal.” “Xiangdi” (the Image of the Sovereign) is the root origin of all things. The Great Dao truly has no form or trace, yet it precedes the wondrous transformations in which being and non-being generate one another. It is neither empty stillness nor something that can be put into words; it is the supreme subtle principle, seen in the rare, faint, and mysterious realm spoken of in the Gushen pian (Chapter on the Valley Spirit). The fundamental ancestral source of the Daoist tradition lies in the Prior Heaven.

Only when one suddenly awakens to this mysterious principle, gradually withdraws from the dusty world, and at last forgets both sudden enlightenment and gradual cultivation together, returning to Wuwei (non-action), can one be said to cultivate the true Dao and to understand that the Great Dao is originally hidden, subtle, and hard to fathom. Only by strictly observing the precepts and cultivating the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) can one become a divine immortal, and also a seer who has transcended the secular world. If one cultivates the mind and accumulates a full three thousand merits and eight hundred virtuous deeds, one’s merit and practice will reach completion.

None of you should give rise to a mind of retreat. Be diligent and cautious, and practice compassion, frugality, and clear understanding. In cultivation, think of others first and of yourself afterward; be forbearing and hold compassion in the heart. Only by thoroughly cutting away the entanglements of the dusty world does one follow the superior path. After encountering the Mysterious Gate (Xuanmen, the Daoist lineages and the path of cultivation), one must be all the more firm in one’s resolve and never let it waver. In this way one may receive the protection of the deities, deliver and rescue seven generations of ancestors, and all return together, riding upon colored clouds.

Song of the Pure Awakening of Mind and Nature (Chunjue Xinxing Ge)

In cultivating this heart-mind there is no obstruction. Awakened original nature is numinous, clear, and lucid, and shows itself at every moment. Once the heart-mind opens, light fills the ten directions; when original nature becomes fully unobstructed, spiritual powers extend throughout the Dharma realm.

Realize that the state of the heart-mind is at ease, and original nature naturally opens through. The heart-mind is the true immortal, able to bring a person back from corruption to what is originally genuine. Understanding this, one should quickly seek within original nature. Once sudden awakening comes, who would still be willing to turn back and repay the karmic debts of former days? Original nature manifests by passing beyond the two extremes of one-sided attachment. The light of the heart-mind is vast, and from the beginning of the kalpa original nature has been able to embrace both the inner and the outer. A settled heart-mind is the style of cultivation that has never changed, in ancient times or today. Original nature is like cold ashes, content and at ease in solitary sitting. The heart-mind is like withered wood, and original nature covers all things everywhere. See clearly that heart-mind and form are originally empty, and one can cut off the precept-thoughts that cling to appearances.

It teaches people to see that original nature is sincere, substantial, and pure in its oneness, to let body and mind come to rest, and to set down greedy attachment to the self. Guard this heart-mind, and original nature has a support on which to rely. When thoughts of the heart are wholly forgotten and delusive thoughts melt away together with them, the transformations of life no longer cause alarm. Original nature is empty and still, and the traces of cause and effect grow faint and hard to find. The heart-mind should be peaceful, mild, and plain, and must not cling to one side. Original nature is deep, quiet, and firm, and the state of the heart-mind is clear and peacefully secure. Original nature is frugal, plain, gentle, and kind, and need not display itself. Hold compassion and a sense of shame in the heart-mind; be careful and free of greed. When original nature is sincere, trustworthy, and generous, one commits fewer faults.

The heart-mind is like fire, and original nature is like firewood. The heart-mind should accord with the pure genuineness of the newborn, like an infant. Original nature is as firm as Mount Tai and is not shaken by external things. The heart-mind is like the sun and moon, illuminating the clear spiritual terrace (lingtai, the inner mind). Original nature is like a white ox, and the heart-mind is like the pen in which the ox is tended. Original nature contends with the Three Corpses (sanshi—the spirits which, as Daoism teaches, lie hidden in the human body, tempt people to do wrong, and record their faults), so that they retreat of their own accord. The Lord of the Heart is the master of cultivation. The heart-mind is like a sharp sword that first cuts back desire. The heart-mind is the Golden Elixir (jindan), and original nature is the sea of medicines. The Maiden (laonü, a symbolic term in Neidan, internal alchemy) within the Li Palace (ligong, the position symbolizing the heart and Shen, spirit) need not be deliberately gathered and refined.

Original nature is like a chariot, circulating the celestial circuit (zhoutian) within the Kan Palace (kanfu, the position symbolizing kidney water). Seize the tortoise (a symbolic image in Neidan), and the heart-mind naturally submits. The heart-mind is like a crescent moon, while original nature is sometimes bright and sometimes dim. When the cinnabar cauldron (a symbol of elixir refining) is brought to completion, the heart-mind becomes firm and precious. On the path of Caoxi, each person realizes original nature for himself. Within the treasure-gathering vase, lead and mercury (which in Neidan commonly symbolize the Jing, essence, and Qi, vital energy, of Yin-Yang) meet. Desire withdraws first, and then the heart-mind is the Golden Elixir and original nature is the sea of medicines; the Maiden in the Li Palace need not be deliberately gathered and refined. Original nature is like a chariot, circulating the celestial circuit within the Kan Palace; seize the tortoise, and the heart-mind naturally submits. The heart-mind is like a crescent moon, while original nature is sometimes bright and sometimes dim; when the cinnabar cauldron is brought to completion, the heart-mind becomes firm and precious. On the path of Caoxi, each person realizes original nature for himself; within the treasure-gathering vase, lead and mercury meet.

When the heart-mind returns completely to the true, original nature is the Dao (the Way). When heart-mind and original nature together lay down discriminating attachment, one can contemplate in freedom. If one wishes to awaken to the Dharma body and become a Daluo immortal, one must not damage the primordial heart-nature.

End of the lower volume of Shangcheng Xiuzhen Sanyao (The Three Essentials of Cultivating the True in the Supreme Vehicle).

These three items are collation notes on the original text. The first records that the wording was mistakenly written “lang xiong sha” and should be corrected. The second states that the tune title here should be Wang Jiangnan. The third notes that “Yin meeting Yin” does not make sense in context and should be changed to “Yang meeting Yang.”