《上阳子金丹大要》Vol. 3

This is precisely the subtle principle.

The direct road to the Great Dao is rarely sought. Wind and tiger, cloud and dragon stir noisily through the forest; the Infant and the Maiden meet in joyful union, then return to the circle’s center, where they are nurtured until the Great Return is achieved.

Red and white lotuses grow in the water. Once they rise from the mud, their colors shine all the more brightly. Their stems are upright, their roots hollow, and their seed heads firm. The subtle principle of cultivation is just like this.

The direct road to the Great Dao is rarely sought. Wind and tiger, cloud and dragon each give their own long cry. After sitting quietly and becoming settled, one can better understand what governs the movement of Qi; the breathing of the True Person, too, grows ever deeper and longer.

When hungry, eat; when thirsty, drink; when tired, sleep. The Great Dao is clearly embodied in following what is natural. After ten months of cultivation, the Sacred Embryo—the image of the Elixir body coming to maturity in Neidan practice—is complete; a sound like a sudden peal of thunder rings from the upper Dantian, the energy center in the head.

The Awakening Verses contain many other subtleties. One should cultivate diligently while there is still time and not let the days pass in vain. Once the human body enters the cycle of rebirth and departs, there is no guarantee that one will encounter the opportunity to cultivate the Dao in a future life.

In quiet moments, read the Awakening Verses often. Their profound meaning concerns the “knife and measure,” a technical term for the substances or elixirs used in alchemy. Whoever grasps this awakening method of cultivation can enter the Golden Gate and become a model for the sages.

At Caoxi, where Huineng, the Sixth Patriarch of Chan Buddhism, taught the Dharma, the robe and bowl were not passed on. The lineage continued like a lamp lighting another lamp, carrying forward the radiance of the patriarchs. Five hundred koans expounded the Dharma; later generations, however, called them all Chan riddles.

The Chan school’s signposts, staffs, wine, serving tables, and gestures such as holding up a whisk or raising a mallet to teach the Dharma all come down to the same thing. Only after awakening does one know that one’s foundation was sound from the beginning. Then sitting securely on a meditation cushion presents no obstacle.

Chan masters point with a finger or awaken students with a shout or a blow; they may also guide them with Zhaozhou’s tea. All these acts are meant to illuminate the mind. Those who truly understand the meaning of Chan need not say half a word: simply facing green bamboo and bright yellow flowers, they can understand what is there.

Mazu once rubbed a tile, hoping to polish it into a mirror. With this, he ridiculed those who sit rigidly, thinking that sitting alone will make them Buddhas. If you can recognize the true meaning of “the waters of the West River,” then you may be granted Buddhahood.

The Buddha once gave up his entire body for a single phrase and half a verse. In the end, he attained the exalted and perfect state, complete with every virtue. If you can realize the true Dharma eye of Nirvana—the wisdom that sees the truth of the Buddha’s teaching—you can attain an indestructible, everlasting body like a diamond.

This concludes Volume Nine of The Essential Guide to the Golden Elixir by Master Shangyang.

Volume Ten

Written by Master Shangyang, Chen Zhixu of Guanwu, at the Purple Empyrean Palace and Crimson Palace.

Accumulating merit.

“Poetic Interpretations of the Dao De Jing” offers verse-form explanations of the chapters and passages of the Dao De Jing, often using alchemical terms to describe the principles and methods of cultivating the Dao.

Chapter One: “The Dao That Can Be Spoken”

To grasp the profound wonders underlying all things, look within “nonbeing”; then observe the gateway through which they appear in “being.” The idea that the Dao may be called the mother of all things is stated plainly and clearly. Two pearls roll across a jade plate, a metaphor for Yin-Yang joining and change flowing on.

Chapter Two: “When All Under Heaven Know”

Once the idea of beauty arises, the idea of ugliness takes shape alongside it. Relative forms such as before and after, high and low, also appear through their mutual dependence. Only upon reaching Wuwei (non-action) can one understand the principle at work. The teaching that needs no words becomes clear from this as well.

Chapter Three: “Exalting the Worthy”

First, keep the mind from being drawn along by external things, then strengthen the body. Let the mind be empty and still, the body full, and Yang Qi (vital energy) abundant. Let me speak with you about cultivation in the alchemical furnace: a single “lead flower,” a symbolic term in Neidan (internal alchemy), deserves careful reflection.

Chapter Four: “The Dao Is Empty, Yet in Use”

Before Heaven and Earth and the myriad things took form, the Dao was their root. It can dispel turmoil and blunt sharpness, revealing a profound and far-reaching character. Laozi stands with his hands hanging at his sides, his expression deep, like an abyss. The Dao is just so: empty, deep, and mysterious.

Chapter Five: “Heaven and Earth Are Not Humane”

Heaven and Earth do not favor the myriad things; precisely because they show no favoritism, each thing can follow its own nature. The people are like straw dogs used in sacrifice, their lives growing naturally as the myriad things are nurtured and transformed. Within a doorway narrow as a keyhole, Qi (vital energy) continues to flow without interruption; the more it flows, the more abundant vitality becomes.

Chapter Six: “The Valley Spirit Never Dies”

The Valley Spirit, a symbol of the Dao’s stillness and ceaseless generative power, has no beginning and is the source of Heaven and Earth. The sage gives it a name, however imperfectly, calling it the “Gate of the Mysterious Female,” a symbol of the fundamental gateway from which all things arise. This points to the key to life and death for ordinary people; it is also the foundation on which immortal cultivation rests.

Chapter Seven: “Heaven Is Long and Earth Endures”

The sage’s greatness lies in having no selfish thoughts. The sage can set the self aside, but who can truly understand the principle behind this? To act in accordance with ordinary feelings is to be mundane; to reverse them and return to the root is the sacred Dao. Here the foundation of cultivation is established.

Chapter Eight: “The Highest Good Is Like Water”

Everyone values displaying their own virtue, and in action they always want to be first. True goodness that accords with the Dao knows how to follow the right moment and take the lower position. You have yet to recognize that point of spiritual clarity within your nature, yet you put water and fire into an empty cauldron and boil them. By invoking the water, fire, and furnace of alchemy, this passage warns that cultivation cannot be mere outward show.

Chapter Nine: “Holding and Filling”

To preserve a hall filled with gold and jade for a long time, one must pay careful attention to the alchemical fire’s timing.

Once the fish trap has served its purpose, there is no need to cling to the trap. Once the rabbit net has served its purpose, there is no need to cling to the net. Close the gates through which the senses rush outward, and the mind and spirit can gather inward.

Chapter Ten: “Carrying the Soul”

Unify Jing and Qi, soften body and mind, and nourish life. Only by continually accumulating practice and good deeds can one protect the inner state of childlike purity.

A pound must contain all sixteen ounces; do not put on an air of being unusual before others. Fishing gear and rabbit nets are merely tools for reaching an end. Close the gates through which the senses rush outward, and the mind and spirit can gather inward.

Chapter Eleven: “Thirty Spokes”

The hub of a wheel is hollow so that it can hold the axle, and thus the thirty spokes can be fitted in place. When you have free time, you may seek a place of ease, yet there is nowhere you can simply steal a moment’s comfort.

When you gain something, enjoy it with composure; when you lose it, let it go with composure. A noble person should carefully watch their words, actions, and thoughts when alone.

Chapter Twelve: “The Five Colors”

Amid the colors and sounds of a busy crossroads, the eyes may be wide open, yet remain unattached to what they see. The sage sets aside what leads the mind astray, preferring to preserve inner stillness; those of shallow understanding hear these teachings and instead grow doubtful.

Chapter Thirteen: “Favor and Disgrace”

Great trouble arises only because I cling to this body. Gain and loss often both make people fearful. Only when one no longer clings to oneself can one be said to have truly transcended oneself. The term “great trouble,” at its root, is merely a name imposed by convention.

Chapter Fourteen: “Look, and You Do Not See”

The Dao that cannot be heard or seen is called “Xiyi” (subtle and indistinct), beyond perception and description. How could this be easy to understand? Suddenly seeing a glimmer of moonlight in the southwest, one hurries off to report it to Zhongli, a Daoist figure usually identified as Zhongli Quan.

Chapter Fifteen: “Those Skilled in the Dao in Ancient Times”

Those who act with care are like people cautiously crossing a river, mindful of what is happening around them. The Dao is subtle; practitioners must also blend in with the world and avoid showing their edge.

The mysterious and penetrating realm is beyond the recognition of ordinary people. Who would ask for directions to the ferry crossing while standing on a broad road?

Chapter Sixteen: “Attain Utmost Emptiness”

The myriad things, in all their profusion, each return to their source. If one understands what is constant and unchanging, the heart naturally becomes calm and gentle.

Last night the stream rose; by morning, no trace of its flowing waters could be seen.

Chapter Seventeen: “The Highest”

Those of the highest capacity practice diligently; those of middling capacity draw close to and study the Great Dao; those of the lowest capacity hear the teaching, furrow their brows, and laugh.

Did you know that Laozi was carried in the womb for a long time, and that when he was later bathed in a golden basin, his hair was already as white as silver?

When the Great Dao Declined, Chapter Eighteen

When harmony breaks down among close relatives—parents and children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives—kindness and filial devotion begin to appear. When the constant ways of Heaven and Earth seem to be turned upside down, upright laws and commands are first put into practice.

The honored guest now ascending Phoenix Terrace once spent ten years studying by a window.

Renounce Holiness and Abandon Wisdom, Chapter Nineteen

The ancients set aside cleverness and cunning in order to bring peace to the world. They spoke plainly of the fundamental truth of life and death.

If you do not understand its true flavor, you will wound and destroy yourself, as though burned in the torture of the heated iron.

Discernment and Wisdom, Chapter Nineteen

The ancients set aside cleverness and cunning in order to bring peace to the world. They spoke plainly of the fundamental truth of life and death.

If you do not understand its true flavor, you will wound and destroy yourself, as though burned in the torture of the heated iron.

Freedom from Learning, Freedom from Worry, Chapter Twenty

To those who scrutinize everything and think themselves clear-sighted, I seem dull and confused; yet the source is best sought where the water runs clear.

If you do not know which “mother” to turn to for food, you will try to swallow the entire Western River in one gulp.

The Appearance of Great De, Chapter Twenty-One

The source of all things before our eyes lies within the world. In the depths of mystery, inner and outer are joined.

Understand the Earth-Heaven Peace hexagram, which symbolizes the Qi of Heaven and Earth joining and flowing freely between above and below; then you can cultivate yourself in the world, advance in practice, and seek the way to immortality.

Bend and Be Whole, Chapter Twenty-Two

What is bent can become straight; what is hollow can be filled. By neither boasting nor relying on oneself, one can accomplish one’s work.

Last night, I dreamed of thunder and rain; today, spring water rises along the riverbank.

Few Words, the Natural Way, Chapter Twenty-Three

Neither gain nor loss brings shame; the state of body and mind becomes clear and lucid, beyond compare.

The Virtue of the perfected person accords with Heaven and Earth. The Dao lies at the center of the circle; there is no need to seek it outside.

Those Who Strut Do Not Stand Firm, Chapter Twenty-Four

The immortals already laugh at those who make a show of themselves. Consider carefully: those who stride about in self-display do not get far.

One misstep is enough to bring a fall. Those brocade pouches and embroidered sachets may, in the end, be nothing more than things that deceive people.

There Is a Being, Formed in Wholeness, Chapter Twenty-Five

There is a being, whole and undivided, that is the root of all things beneath Heaven. We call it the Dao, but this name is only an expedient label.

Qian is wholly firm and Kun gathers in softness: this reveals the Dao of Wuwei (non-action). The wise rejoice in it, and the benevolent live long.

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Heavy Is the Root of the Light

Why, though holding the high position of a ruler over a kingdom of ten thousand chariots, neglect your own body and mind? What is truly distant, and what is truly close?

What is precious is plainly before people, yet ordinary people fail to recognize it. So the teacher explains the principle of “ruler and minister” again and again, in careful detail. In Neidan (internal alchemy), “ruler and minister” is a metaphor for how the different parts within the body work together.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Skillful Conduct

Knowing only the names of things is not enough; one must also understand what they actually are. The truth at the heart of subtle mysteries is called “concealed clarity”: wisdom that lies deep within yet illuminates how things work.

Those truly skilled in following the Dao (the Way) leave no visible trace. It is like water flowing through stone, without a sound.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Know the Masculine

The masculine and feminine, the dark and the bright, Kan and Li (terms in internal alchemy often used to refer to the relationship between Yin-Yang and Water-Fire) must be brought into harmony. One who understands this can dwell low like a stream and receive all things.

The truth before you must be clearly recognized. The foundation of cultivation is to return to simplicity and to a state of innocence like that of an infant.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: When You Would

“Spirit vessel” has always been only an assumed name; this term is suited only to be explained to those of the highest capacity.

If you have not yet crossed the river but rush to find a ferryman, or if you merely recite the profound Dao De Jing without understanding the practical guidance for cultivating the Dao, your efforts will come to nothing.

Chapter Thirty: One Who Assists the Ruler with the Dao

If you act only to achieve results and do not accord with the Dao, you will show off your sharpness and bring calamity upon ordinary people.

When a fierce force bursts forth, who has time to blink? The immortals in the mountains bathe in golden radiance.

Chapter Thirty-One: Fine Weapons

Those in honored positions should stand on the left; weapons should be placed on the right. Do not pass this Dao on lightly to anyone unable to understand it.

At times, one should remain tranquil and settle into Wuwei (non-action). Heaven and Earth move and nurture the myriad things without sound or scent.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Dao Is Ever Nameless

The marks of self, of sentient beings, and of longevity (Buddhist terms for attachment to the self, to living beings, and to the enduring nature of life) should all be set aside, whether in the realms of expedience or truth, contemplation or practice.

If you cannot reconcile the distinction between ordinary people and sages, but insist on speculation and argument, you will stray from the right path. When the Yin-Yang of Heaven and Earth unite, sweet dew descends.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Knowing Others Is Wisdom

Intelligence and insight should both be used to overcome oneself and make oneself strong. The opening and closing transformations of Qian and Kun must correspond with each other.

One who can keep a quiet field within the heart is no ordinary person.

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Great Dao Flows Everywhere

The Great Dao flows everywhere, filling Heaven and Earth. When Heaven and Earth unite, sweet dew descends.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Knowing Others Is Wisdom

Intelligence and insight should both be used to overcome oneself and make oneself strong. The opening and closing transformations of Qian and Kun must correspond with each other.

If you can preserve the clear, quiet field within your heart, you are no ordinary person.

Chapter 34: The Great Dao Flows Everywhere

The Great Dao is vast and flows everywhere; no name can contain it. Once we force a name upon it, we become bound by that name and fall into the world of dust and convention.

If, in daily life, you do not know to gaze toward the distant Western River, then even if you wear through your straw sandals, you have not truly set out on the journey. Here, gazing into the distance and walking serve as metaphors for realizing the Great Dao: laborious travel alone does not mean you understand the Way.

Chapter 35: Holding to the Great Image

Words may sound plain and flavorless, yet for those who truly understand, their use is inexhaustible.

When you meet someone, choose a few pleasing words to say. Even passersby who hear them will be delighted, as if enjoying music and fine food.

Chapter 36: When You Would Draw Something In

How can sharp abilities be revealed so readily to others? Instead, summon your courage and gather your spirit.

Investigate the mysterious Dao until it begins to shine faintly; then an indestructible body like diamond can appear. “Diamond body that cannot be destroyed” is a familiar metaphor in cultivation, referring to a state of body and mind that is firm and imperishable.

Chapter 37: The Dao Is Constantly Without Action

Recite the name of Bodhisattva Guanyin every day, but learn both to recognize Guanyin and to discern the “echo of the heel.” The “echo of the heel” means the reverberation that follows a sound; here it serves as a reminder to perceive the meaning behind what is heard.

Only when there is no regret or worry from beginning to end does one truly embody the state of mind suited to a cultivator of the Dao.

Chapter 38: One of Highest De Does Not Display De

There is little difference between benevolence and De; action and non-action, meanwhile, follow one another, each having its proper time.

If you ask what “action” is like, moonlight falling on your heels at night offers one image.

Chapter 39: Those of Old Who Attained the One

The “One” is called the gate of nonduality; enter through that gate, and you can establish yourself and fulfill your life.

Long ago, Zengzi’s single word, “Yes,” meaning a respectful response, misled many people in the world.

Chapter 40: Returning Is the Movement of the Dao

Even when returning the jade disc intact, one must concentrate on understanding its meaning; life coming into being from nothing holds a profound mystery.

Let me speak with you about the waters of Caoxi, the stream associated with Huineng, the Sixth Patriarch of Chan Buddhism: who could repay a single drop of its water with ten thousand taels of gold?

Chapter 41: When the Highest Type of Person Hears the Dao

The Great Dao is vast and formless, hidden from view and without a fixed name. Neither its form nor its name reveals itself to people.

Those who hear these words today will probably laugh. Only the Dao is skilled at giving freely and bringing all things to completion.

Chapter 42: The Dao Gives Birth to One

The harmonizing Qi of Yin and Yang is the great furnace in which all things are generated. I am telling you these words; please do not doubt them.

“The Vast Cosmos, Humanity’s Forty-One”

The cosmos is boundless and vast, and its people are countless. “The great image has no form” means that the Great Dao has no fixed shape. The Great Dao is hidden deep and does not reveal itself; even its name is hard to define precisely. Things that have form and name can still be seen and identified, but the Great Dao does not appear directly before us.

Those who hear these words today may laugh. Yet it is precisely because the Great Dao can bestow its blessings widely and help all things come to fulfillment without claiming credit that it is truly “good at lending and bringing things to completion.”

“The Dao Gives Birth to One,” Chapter Forty-Two

The harmonizing Qi of Yin-Yang is like the furnace in which Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things. I have told you these principles; do not let doubt arise in your heart.

Among the countless people in the cosmos, how many truly deserve to be called great men?

“Nothing in the World Is Softer,” Chapter Forty-Three

By cultivating the breath and gathering the mind, one can attain the state of supreme holiness. The Perfected Ziyang left behind the Wuzhen pian (Essay on Awakening to Reality), a Daoist classic on Neidan practice.

It turns out that Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism all arise from the same principle and share the same source. First, one must investigate “the Chan of the leaky skin”—a phrase from Chan Buddhism whose precise meaning is difficult to determine.

“Name and Person,” Chapter Forty-Four

The “person” spoken of here is not merely a body made up of four limbs; one must seek the key to cultivation at its root.

What is complete and fully present manifests within oneself; it is not obtained from outside. Beneath women’s skirts, too, lie complete human nature and the foundations for cultivation.

“Great Perfection Seems Incomplete,” Chapter Forty-Five

True great perfection seems to have something lacking, and what is straight may seem somewhat crooked. One should focus one’s attention on the realm above.

At times, be a person at ease, dwelling in stillness without clinging to anything.

“When the World Has the Dao,” Chapter Forty-Six

When the world has the Dao, warhorses can be retired and need not charge into battle. When the world lacks the Dao, all things are bound to suffer destruction.

Is the principle that excess is as bad as deficiency not worth remembering? Understand this, and you will comprehend everything.

“Without Leaving the Door,” Chapter Forty-Seven

A treasure is right before you, hidden within the “mountain of form”—the human body. Why travel far in search of it?

It is like wearing out your straw sandals as you search everywhere, yet never finding what you seek. Only when you turn back do you discover the answer close at hand, like an arrow falling neatly into a pot during a pitch-pot game.

“Learning Increases Day by Day,” Chapter Forty-Eight

Cultivation through deliberate action must be put into practice. Cultivation through Wuwei (non-action) must also find real grounding.

Do not chase outward forms and appearances before others. Fix your aim and cultivate with focus, and you will attain resonance.

“Learning Increases Day by Day,” Chapter Forty-Eight

Cultivation through deliberate action must be put into practice. Cultivation through Wuwei (non-action) must also find real grounding.

Do not chase forms and sounds. Once you cling to forms and sounds, you have already gone astray.

“The Sage Has No Fixed Mind,” Chapter Forty-Nine

The sage takes the people’s minds as their own. The principle has already been made clear; do not keep hesitating and turning it over in thought.

How could ordinary people understand the “He-shan drum,” whose precise reference is uncertain? When the drum sounds, it is worth several ingots of gold.

“Coming Forth into Life and Entering Death,” Chapter Fifty

Life and death follow one another in an unending cycle. Only those skilled in nurturing life can escape death.

Only by understanding life’s coming and going can one truly become an adult; only by entering the tiger’s den can one obtain the tiger cub.

“The Dao Gives Birth to Them” (Chapter 51)

The Dao brings the myriad things into being, and De nurtures them as they grow, yet neither claims credit out of affection. Stand atop Mount Sumeru and gaze into the distance toward Kunlun, and you can see a higher, more far-reaching realm.

If you can open another eye of wisdom, you will see clearly where the Dao returns, and the Dao will thereby appear worthy of honor.

“Heavenly Unity Has a Beginning” (Chapter 52)

Know the “child,” the myriad things, but also return to the “mother” who nurtures them. If you do not understand how to follow and keep to the constant Dao, you will only rush about in vain.

It is like being beneath an overturned basin: you must still make use of your own light. Do not merely discuss arcane techniques in the scriptures.

“If I Had Even a Little Understanding” (Chapter 53)

Open another eye of wisdom as though stealing an eye, and you will see clearly where the Dao returns, and the Dao will thereby appear worthy of honor.

“Heavenly Unity Has a Beginning” (Chapter 52)

Know the “child,” the myriad things, but also return to the “mother” who nurtures them. If you do not understand how to follow and keep to the constant Dao, you will only rush about in vain.

It is like being beneath an overturned basin: you must still make use of your own light. Do not merely discuss arcane techniques in the scriptures.

“If I Had Even a Little Understanding” (Chapter 53)

What are called “stolen boast” and “theft” both mean taking treasures from one’s own household. Once water has been spilled, it is hard to gather again; what has been lost through hardship is hard to recover.

Since the fertile fields have already become barren, how can one live in peace and contentment?

“What Is Well Established Cannot Be Uprooted” (Chapter 54)

Observe one’s village, the state, and the world. Cultivate the self and accumulate De, and you will gain the benefits of the Dao.

Those skilled at establishing foundations also know how to guard them firmly. By following the proper methods, one can settle things far and wide and find one’s place in contentment.

“One Who Embodies Abundant De” (Chapter 55)

An infant understands nothing, yet crows will not come to peck at it. It knows nothing of sexual union, yet it will naturally become erect.

Seeking longevity only by increasing vitality and using the breath does not simply mean making the sinews and bones supple and the grip firm.

“One Who Knows Does Not Speak” (Chapter 56)

Close the gateways and gather in the senses, and you will obtain the precious Golden Elixir. Where can one find the thing that flashes past like lightning or a shooting star?

Even if Nezha, the mythic general with three heads and six arms, were given a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, he still could not find Guanyin in the Buddhist temple.

“Use Uprightness to Govern the State” (Chapter 57)

Everyone in the world teaches people to set up many prohibitions. I, however, am wary only of mentioning little children’s names.

Without understanding ingenious techniques, the use of arms appears clumsy. If you can see the Dao right before you, the world can be at peace.

“When Its Government Is Unobtrusive” (Chapter 58)

To be upright without being unrestrained is to reach a subtle and profound state. Even standing atop a hundred-foot pole, one has not yet reached a point of danger.

Understanding the principles by which sages and worthies use their inner awareness allows what was once rotten to be transformed into something wondrous.

Chapter 59: “Governing the People and Serving Heaven”

Governing a state and tending to oneself both require valuing the accumulation of De. Only when the roots run deep and the base is firmly established can things endure.

Rise early in the fifth watch; there may be no special reason for it. Yet someone is still walking the streets at night.

Chapter 60: “Governing a Large State”

When rulers and spirits do not harm one another, De can gather in one place. It is not that spirits cannot harm people; rather, when people do not deceive, spirits have no opening to cause harm.

Carrying a qin, I deliberately passed through the western courtyard. More and more people played, but few listened.

Chapter 61: “A Great State Is Like the Lower Reaches”

Being in the lower reaches does not mean making oneself base. The key to prevailing over others through stillness is to hold fast to purity and unity.

In sexual union, one should take the lower position. This principle should be explained to those who understand the way of the lower reaches. (“Lower reaches” here draws on the image of water flowing downward to suggest humility and taking the place behind others.)

Chapter 62: “The Dao Is the Treasure of All Things”

The Dao is the treasure of the good and the refuge on which all things depend. Even those who are not good can receive the Dao’s protection.

If someone has faults, why abandon them? The sun and moon continue in their courses, and people too should continue on the path of the Dao.

Chapter 63: “Acting Through Wuwei”

Understand early that great things often arise from what is subtle, and that the difficult affairs of the world must be approached through what is easy.

Had my teacher not revealed its meaning to me, how could I have tasted the flavor of the flavorless?

Chapter 64: “What Is at Rest Is Easy to Hold”

The sage considers within the heart how to govern. If care and foresight are lacking even in small matters, failure will follow.

Helping people correct their mistakes is as natural as the moon setting in the west and the sun rising in the east.

Chapter 65: “Those of Old Who Were Skilled in the Dao”

A noble person does not govern the state through personal cleverness and ingenuity. To understand the laws and standards from beginning to end is profound De.

A thousand roads and a hundred paths all lead somewhere; one must know where they ultimately lead. If one does not know their destination…

Chapter 65: “Those of Old Who Were Skilled in the Dao”

A noble person does not govern the state through personal cleverness and ingenuity. To understand the laws and standards from beginning to end is profound De.

A thousand roads and a hundred paths all lead somewhere; one must know where they ultimately lead. If one does not know their destination, this is called a calamity for the state.

Chapter 66: “Why Rivers and Seas Are Kings of the Valleys”

The sage places himself below everyone else. What is there to contend over? Rivers and seas take in polluted waters and still remain clear and vast.

Light the eye before you that sees the right path. Look up: even in a dark room, there is a brightness like moonlight.

Chapter 67: “Everyone Under Heaven Says…”

Take compassion and frugality as models for all under Heaven. Add diligence and sustained effort, and you can accord with the worthy sages of antiquity.

At first, you may seem to amount to little, but in the end you can become accomplished. It is like stringing a thousand copper coins into a single string: accumulate them one by one, and at last they form a whole.

Those skilled at employing others always place themselves in a lower position. Those skilled at archery first draw the bow, then release the arrow.

Only when you let go at the edge of a ten-thousand-foot cliff do you truly understand the principle of unstringing the bow. Archery serves here as a metaphor for cultivation: one must know when to let go and cease clinging.

Those who wage war have a saying: “What I value is not gold, silver, or treasure.” If you treat the enemy lightly, you will lose your companions and kin.

Be as cautious as if facing an abyss, as careful as if walking on thin ice; cultivation, too, calls for such diligence. To take the lead, you must first know how to follow—to be humble and not contend.

My words are easy to understand and easy to put into practice, yet few people in the world understand me. So people are always rushing about. Though the sage wears coarse cloth, within he holds virtue as precious as jade.

Understanding the principles is not difficult; what is difficult is putting them into practice. As with stringing a thousand copper coins into one string, what matters is gradual accumulation—and knowing when you have enough.

The failing of great people lies in dwelling on their own faults. Illness is not cured with soothing medicine, but with acupuncture. The needle draws out pus and blood; once the root of the illness is removed, one becomes clear and at ease, like Guanyin. Acupuncture here is a metaphor for noticing and removing ingrained habits in cultivation.

To know yourself is to be spiritually clear and perceptive. Only when the work of inward cultivation has become mature can you do this. One who truly cherishes oneself does not reject oneself, but calmly follows the nature of things and enjoys what is natural and genuine.

Good and evil are plain to see, and the net of cause and effect lets nothing slip through. Those who harm others receive fitting punishment without fail. Millet seeds do not grow beans. To be still, yield, and abide in Wuwei is to protect yourself.

One does not fear death, but fears being alive. To fear being alive means there is still something in life that must be guarded with care. Learn to preserve fullness and keep it from diminishing.

The rout of eight thousand soldiers was nothing extraordinary; in the end, Xiang Yu’s head fell into the hands of the Han army. The story of Xiang Yu’s defeat is used here to show that forcing one’s strength and vying for victory will ultimately bring ruin.

Millet seeds do not grow beans. To be still, yield, and abide in Wuwei is to protect yourself.

One does not fear death, but fears being alive; learn to preserve fullness and keep it from diminishing. The rout of eight thousand soldiers was no great matter: Xiang Yu was ultimately defeated, and his head fell into the hands of the Han army.

The principle of “no-birth” is the hardest to explain. People in the world take life lightly and rush about in pursuit of things, like a fine horse galloping at full speed.

If one can grasp the method that is neither birth nor death, then within the bounds of this finite world, the Way of lasting existence can be carried on.

Chapter 76: The Birth of Human Beings

After a person dies, the body stiffens; after a tree dies, its branches and trunk wither. Only the Way that does not die offers a lasting course.

If one can apply the method of reversing the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), something that has long remained in a state of deathly stillness can be brought back to life.

Chapter 77: The Way of Heaven

If one does not wish to display one’s worth, does that mean one is not wise? Only in places that seem plain and unremarkable can the immortals be found.

A perfected person who has attained the Dao showed me the secret for turning the flow of water back. By following the Dao, one comes to understand how Nüwa mended the heavens.

Chapter 78: Under Heaven

To bear the filth of the state is truly rare. Only after cultivating to this point does one know that one’s lifespan can be extended.

Once one has attained the Dao and returned, one should hold fast to it forever. It is like a raft for crossing a river, and also a ladder for ascending to heaven.

Chapter 79: Making Peace After Great Resentment

The “left tally”—one half of an ancient contract, here used to refer to the token held by a cultivator of the Dao—is like a Prajna boat, a vessel of wisdom. If one can hold fast to it, one may let it carry oneself downstream.

Thus it is said that a person of De holds fast to the tally for a long time. The Way of Heaven shows no partiality, yet it is always close to the gentle and kind.

Chapter 80: A Small State with Few People

In a small state with few people, one returns to an ancient, unadorned original mind, and one’s lifespan becomes like the sun and moon, enduring through their waxing and waning.

Is it merely a matter of escaping old age and death and withdrawing from the world? As Heaven and Earth turn and change, I too can respond with ease.

Chapter 81: True Words Are Not Beautiful

Give things to others, and you yourself will become more abundant. The sage does not hoard private possessions, but embraces the harmony of Heaven, in accord with the Way of Heaven.

These five thousand words are the essentials of Golden Elixir cultivation. Believe in them and put them into practice, and you can ascend to the Great Luo Heaven, the highest celestial realm in Daoism.

End of Volume Ten of Shangyangzi’s Essentials of the Golden Elixir

Volume Eleven of Shangyangzi’s Essentials of the Golden Elixir

Written by Shangyangzi Guanwuchen Zhixu of Zixiao Jiangong

Accumulated Practice

With Zhiyangzi Tian Zhaizhai

Among emperors who attained the Dao (the Way) were Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor. Among officials and recluses who attained it were Laozi, Zhuangzi, and Yin Xi, Keeper of the Pass. Among feudal lords and princes who attained it were Zhang Liang, whose courtesy name was Zifang, and Liu An, Prince of Huainan. Among those who practiced in the mountains and forests and attained it were Zhongli Quan, Lü Dongbin, and Chen Tuan, known by the sobriquet Xiyi. The Great Dao exists throughout Heaven and Earth, and the number of those who have become immortals or Buddhas is beyond counting. Few have heard of them in later generations because there are now so few people with high aspirations who can shoulder great responsibilities.

Dukes, lords, and nobles set aside their status and treated scholars with humility and respect because they knew that some among them might have attained the Dao. A scholar’s learning has no end precisely because they have not yet reached the Great Dao. Those who truly understand the Great Dao have attained the state of utmost sagehood and divinity.

As I traveled west and lodged along the way, I kept the great affairs of the state in mind. I then went to Marquis Zhaitian, bowed repeatedly, and asked for instruction, hoping to hear the highest principles. For many years I remained tireless in my pursuit, and at last Marquis Zhaitian taught me, saying:

The Great Dao is a teaching that realized adepts keep secret and do not pass on lightly. It is also a key instruction that sage masters repeat again and again. The perfected people of ancient times could carry out practices beyond the reach of ordinary people. Those whose mind and spirit are settled, still, and clear like the cosmos reveal the light innate within them; when this light appears, people can see their true form. They use concrete methods of practice to nourish the body, inward reverence to connect what is within and without, and move from deliberate practice into the state of Wuwei (non-action). Deliberate practice takes human effort as one’s companion; Wuwei takes Heaven as one’s companion. To take human effort as one’s companion is to refine and nourish the one Qi (vital energy) of the pre-Heaven state. To take Heaven as one’s companion is to refine and nourish the true Qi that arises naturally in the post-Heaven state.

Human beings come into life receiving the one Qi formed by the union of Heaven and Earth. From a state of weakness, they gradually grow; in their prime, Qi is abundant, then fullness gives way to decline. When Qi is ample, one is strong; when it is depleted, one withers. Realized adepts nurture it while it is abundant and find ways to restore it when it wanes, preserving this one Qi over a long span. The state of passing through tribulations without dying is called the Golden Elixir.

Those whose practice is deep obtain “Qian Metal”—Qian belongs to Yang, while Metal here means the refined essence produced through alchemical practice—and place it in the “Spirit Chamber,” a metaphor for the inner place of refinement and nourishment. Through inward contemplation with mind and spirit, they make the inner realm still and bright, thereby forming the embryo child, a symbolic “infant” created through Neidan (internal alchemy). After ten months of careful keeping and nurturing, they reach a state of coming and going without being extinguished or born. This is called a Celestial Immortal.

What is meant by “Qi”? It is the dynamic of Qi formed by the union of Yin and Yang: Kun and Qian are Yin and Yang; man and woman are Yin and Yang; Kan and Li are Yin and Yang; reversal and following are also Yin and Yang. The Nanhua Jing (another name for the Zhuangzi) says: “Utmost Yin is still and quiet; utmost Yang is blazing. The Qi of stillness and quiet comes from Heaven; the Qi of blazing heat arises from Earth. When Yin and Yang interact and harmonize, the myriad things come into being.” Gathering and refining pre-Heaven Qi, and cultivating post-Heaven Qi, is called “communication.” When Yin and Yang communicate, they can be brought into harmony; once harmonized, the myriad things grow. As the “infant” formed through cultivation gradually matures, it is called a perfected person.

At this, Zhizhai suddenly understood. He resolved to practice diligently and changed his name to Zhiyangzi.

Written for Chu Yangzi Wang Bingtian.

The Dao cannot leave a person for even a moment; if it could, it would not be the true Dao. The Dao exists between Heaven and Earth, setting Heaven and Earth in motion, making the sun and moon shine, and bringing the seasons in turn. Everyone receives the Dao’s supremely sacred and numinous essence, and also possesses its supremely refined and pure workings. Ordinary people live in accord with nature’s cycles of life and death, and so are born and die in an endless round. Those who are supremely sacred and divine cultivate in reverse, following the Great Dao; thus they can become immortals or Buddhas and transcend the bounds of natural transformation.

The sages of the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—each understood and applied this principle. Confucianism speaks of cultivating the body, Buddhism of cultivating one’s nature, and Daoism of cultivating life. Though their paths differ, in the end they can converge in the same place. Later generations failed to understand the sages’ intent: each exalted the teachings they had heard and rejected those they did not accept, without realizing that the body, mind and nature, and nature and life cannot be separated from one another. If any one of them could be separated from the whole, it would not be the true Dao.

Chuyangzi Wang Shunmin is truly an extraordinary man. He served in government for nearly thirty years in all. I have heard that, while in office, he would not let profit sway his resolve, nor let hardship make him abandon his principles. He remained steadfast and true to himself. He named his residence “Field of Ice” to show that he was pure and without blemish, free even of the smallest fault.

In the winter of the yihai year, I met him at my post in Yijiang. From the moment we met, we were like old friends who had known each other for years. We clasped hands and spoke freely, opening our hearts to one another without any of the formality of official life. I saw that he had a lofty bearing and the features of an immortal. By a fortunate meeting, he asked me to teach him the Way of the Golden Elixir. We then swore a common oath before Heaven. In keeping with the secret method of the Golden Cauldron and Fire Talisman passed down by my teacher on Qingcheng Mountain, I taught it to him in due order.

Before teaching him, I first helped him let go of attachment and doubt, so that he might understand that his destined connection with the Dao had matured and lay a firm foundation for cultivation. I did this because I wished to teach him everything handed down by my teacher, without concealment. Yet hearing the teaching is not difficult; actual cultivation demands care. The old immortal Chunyang, Lü Dongbin, said, “Even if you begin cultivating at once, you are already too late.” Those of superior capacity, on hearing the teaching, will certainly put it into practice with diligence. Ordinary people, however, are often startled and doubtful, and fail to begin their efforts in good time. The time for cultivation passes like lightning and sparks struck from stone, swift as an arrow. This should truly serve as a warning. I now urge Chuyangzi not to take it lightly.

The Golden Elixir is the Way of “returning the elixir through the Golden Fluid.” The Golden Fluid refers to the true Qi within the human body. When this true Qi is joined with the physical form and one becomes a perfected person, this is called returning the elixir. At birth, people receive the pure and unmixed Dao that precedes Heaven and Earth. After puberty—traditionally marked by the age of sixteen, or “two eights”—Jing and Qi gradually drain away, and the original, simple state is lost with them. The precelestial Qi is no longer complete.

When people are in their prime, they are often deluded and marry to continue the human line and its proper bonds. If, by middle age, they can still cherish and preserve themselves, they are sages. Mencius said that at forty he no longer wavered in mind. Zhuangzi said that at fifty he realized that the preceding forty-nine years had all been mistaken. Confucius, too, understood Heaven’s Mandate at fifty. Chuyangzi is now fifty-two, and has heard of the Golden Elixir and the Way of long life. In terms of age and timing, this is just right. Moreover, his bond with the Dao is deep and his faith firm. Therefore, in accordance with my teacher’s instruction, I have transmitted this Way to him:

The perfected people of ancient times, those who had attained the Dao, sought to regulate their nature by first cherishing Jing; to regulate their life, they first made their Qi (vital energy) pure and full. Mencius said, “I am skilled at nurturing my vast, flowing Qi. This Qi is supremely great and supremely strong. If one nurtures it through what is right and does it no harm, it will fill the space between Heaven and Earth.” If Mencius’s words were meant as a parable, why would a sage have spoken in this way? But if they were meant as instruction, how could the Qi within a person fill Heaven and Earth? There must be another principle at work here.

What is this principle? It is Qi. And what is Qi? It is life. A classic says, “What Heaven endows in human beings is called nature; following this nature is called the Dao.” To understand life, one must first cultivate one’s nature. If nature and life are cultivated together, what need is there to worry that one cannot become an immortal? The principle still lies in Qi and life. What is called nature is also righteousness. Mencius said, “Vast, flowing Qi arises from the accumulation of righteousness. It cannot be obtained by performing one or two righteous deeds by chance.” Acting righteously only by chance involves merely external things and actions; it is not the Golden Elixir. Only what arises from accumulated righteousness is the Golden Elixir, in accord with the way of reverse refinement. Hence the saying that righteousness must be matched with the Dao.

Confucius said, “Bringing one’s nature to fulfillment and holding fast to it without loss is the gateway to the Dao and righteousness.” Shakyamuni said, “All phenomena are thus.” Laozi said, “The highest righteousness acts with intention.” In speaking of the Dao, the sages never depart from righteousness. The principles contained in righteousness are vast indeed.

Gathering lead and refining mercury—that is, using lead and mercury as metaphors for the Yin-Yang essences of cultivation—is the accumulation of righteousness. “In the southwest, finding a companion,” a phrase from the imagery of the Changes referring to Yin and Yang joining, belongs to the highest righteousness. The Dragon Girl offering a pearl, an image from a Buddhist story, symbolizes accord with the principle of suchness. The righteousness spoken of here is precisely the principle of one Yin and one Yang in Fuxi’s Changes: Yin is the broken line within the Li trigram, and Yang is the solid line within the Kan trigram. Yin within Li belongs to Fire; Yang within Kan belongs to Water. To match righteousness with the Dao is to make the Water of Kan rise back above the Fire of Li, forming the cultivation principle of Water and Fire in mutual completion. One takes the Yang line from Kan and lowers it into Li, exchanging it for the Yin line there, thereby forming the Earth-Heaven Tai hexagram.

The Yin line in Li is likened to mercury and Jing; the Yang line in Kan is likened to lead and Qi. The Scripture of the Mind Seal says, “The highest medicines are three: Shen, Qi, and Jing.” Jing arises through Qi, and Shen too manifests through Qi; none of the three—Shen, Qi, or Jing—can be lacking. This is what is meant by saying, “The Dao cannot be departed from for even an instant.” When Jing is depleted, Qi weakens; when Qi weakens, Shen disperses. If Qi is weak and Shen dispersed, can a person still be considered whole? This shows that whatever can be departed from is not the Dao.

The sage masters feared that people would fail to understand the principles and would not know how to refine Qi. So they used names such as lead, mercury, cauldron, furnace, dragon, tiger, cinnabar, silver, knife and measure, and the timing of the fire, entrusting the meaning of cultivation to a variety of metaphors. They used the names of concrete things to guide later students. Surely they hoped that everyone would become an immortal and every person a Buddha. Yet people often refuse to believe, or feel unable to take up this path. Even those who enter the gate often stray into side paths, cling to outward appearances, or fall into empty talk. Few hear the right way.

Those with the capacity for the Great Vehicle and superior natural endowments, when instructed by a perfected person, can at once give rise to genuine faith, cherish themselves, accumulate and nourish their Qi, and cultivate diligently without slackening. They can then quickly ascend to the realm of high immortals. I have seen many such people. As I see it now, Chuyangzi’s endowments are extraordinary, and his Shen and Qi are abundant. This is why the Golden Elixir way of the patriarchs is no longer kept secret.

Laozi said, “When people of the highest capacity hear the Great Dao, they practice it diligently.” How well said. Since I was fortunate enough to meet an accomplished master, form an alliance with him, and receive instruction in the Great Dao, I have wished to fulfill the undertaking entrusted to me. Yet I had not accumulated the merit and auspicious conditions needed for cultivation, so I sought its principles in the Immortal Scriptures, gathered their wondrous and essential teachings, and compiled them as The Essentials of the Golden Elixir.

After completing the book, I did not let the hardships of travel deter me. Whenever I passed through a famous mountain or a town, I would meet people as circumstances allowed, and humbly and sincerely offer guidance, leading them to cultivate this Way. For forty-three years, students came one after another, yet I never met anyone with the true resolve and strength to persevere in diligent practice.

Recently, I visited the Taiping Palace on Mount Lu and met its current abbot, Pan Yiyang. From our first meeting, I felt an unusual closeness, as though we had known each other long before. After one cup of tea, we drank another, and our conversation seemed to rise beyond the world of dust. His face looked young, his beard was black, and his spirit was vigorous; his complexion was radiant, and his bearing free and unrestrained. He seemed to handle complicated affairs without strain, yet appeared to have firm judgment in dealing with people and choosing his companions. When prominent officials arrived in their carriages, he knew how to put them at ease; people of loyalty and learning who came to visit were all glad to befriend him.

His bearing and presence were free of worldly coarseness, and his very bones seemed to carry the grace of an immortal. The open plain, washed clean, appeared clear and spacious; the mountain ranges rose in overlapping peaks, adding to the beauty of the scene. It was as though Heaven and humanity responded to one another, and even spirits and gods wished to draw near him.

I have often reflected that good fortune and wisdom are difficult to possess together. Living in peace and comfort, at ease and in wealth and honor, is a person’s good fortune; understanding the hidden principles, grasping the wondrous Way, and investigating its subtleties are a person’s wisdom. One who possesses both cannot be judged by ordinary standards or compared with common people.

When we first met, we spoke of the Golden Elixir Way, but I did not answer him at once. Later, seeing how sincere his feelings were, how concise his words, and how steadfast and devoted he was, I thought of the many affairs he managed and felt that the years were already slipping away. If he kept telling himself he would come later to devote himself to cultivation, and delayed year after year, he would miss his opportunity. Seeing that he opened his heart and dealt with me candidly, and that he solemnly formed an alliance and swore an oath, I therefore transmitted this teaching to him:

The Great Dao operates according to the same principle by which Heaven and Earth bring forth and transform the myriad things. Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth) shelter and nurture them, while the movements of the sun and moon and the changes of Yin-Yang also take part. This principle applies just as much to the human body; it does not lie outside it. Heaven and Earth use Yin-Yang as bellows—the pivot of transformation, like an air-pumping bellows—while the body takes the Mysterious Female, the fundamental inner opening associated with generation and transformation, as its pivot.

Heaven moves while Earth is still: movement belongs to Yang, stillness to Yin. When Yin reaches its height, the myriad things cannot grow, and Yang lies hidden beneath the earth. Once Yin has been exhausted, the first stirrings of Yang begin. The plum tree is the first to put forth white buds, as Yang is reborn within the earth. People see the plum blossoms as a sign that spring is near, so the Yijing says of the Return hexagram: “Return—perhaps in it we can see the heart of Heaven and Earth.” That is, through “Return,” we may glimpse the heart of Heaven and Earth, which brings forth life without end.

The Return hexagram consists of five Yin lines and one Yang line. The newly arising Yang lies at the very bottom, yet governs the entire hexagram. The human body is the same…

A person passes from youth into adulthood and then inevitably grows old. Adulthood belongs to Yang, while old age belongs to Yin. When Yin Qi reaches its height, Yang Qi is about to be spent and dispersed. Those who have attained the Dao understand how to follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth. They take the Zi hour—the middle of the night—as the time for cultivation, the sun’s course as their guide, the Gui day as a sign, and the moon’s changes as their measure. They also use mercury to represent Yin and lead to represent Yang.

Lead arises from Gui. Gui is associated with the Kan trigram, which symbolizes water and the north; the north is the direction of Zi. After seven days in the cycle of Heaven and Earth, Yang Qi begins to return. This is called “Return” (Fu), the first stirring of Yang. When the Great Yin reaches the third day of its course, the moon reveals the Geng position. Geng belongs to Metal, which corresponds to the Qian trigram, symbolizing Heaven; Qian Metal lies concealed within Kan Water. The human body follows the same pattern: Yang Qi has its own time to return.

Those who cultivate the Golden Elixir must seek the primordial, true One Qi at the first emergence of Gui Qi and take it as “lead.” They then bring this true lead into the Li trigram, which symbolizes fire, and temper it with the true fire within Li until it congeals into an elixir. This is why it is called the Golden Elixir. The Way of the Golden Elixir depends on the two factors Kan and Li; ultimately, Kan and Li refer to true Yin and true Yang. Thus, the Way of the Golden Elixir is nothing other than Yin and Yang.

When the Qi of one Yang has just returned, even if the whole body remains in a state of Yin, this slender thread of Yang Qi arriving from outside can still take the lead. This is the meaning behind the name “Yiyangzi” (Master One Yang). Since Yiyangzi has heard of this Way, he may of course choose not to cultivate it. But if he can rouse himself with ardor and resolve to practice diligently, I know he will surely succeed.

Written with Che Langu, Biyangzi of the Nine Palaces.

The perfected people of ancient times—those who had attained the Dao (the Way)—did not dream when they slept. Their breathing was deep and long, as though their breath reached all the way to their heels. Because their minds and spirits were settled, they did not dream in sleep; because their breathing was deep, their breath did not remain confined to the throat. This is the Dao of those of the highest De (Virtue/Power): following nature and acting without contrivance.

“Utmost Yin is still and profound; utmost Yang is bright and blazing.” This means that when Yin Qi reaches its utmost, it is quiet and deep, while when Yang Qi reaches its utmost, it is radiant and intense. The blazing Yang Qi rises from within the earth; the quiet Yin Qi descends from the heavens. This describes how those of the highest De may act, yet still make use of the natural Dao. “Acting without contrivance” means following the natural condition acquired after birth; “acting with intent” means making use of the primordial One Qi, the original vital energy.

What is the condition acquired after birth? People are born having received a small portion of primordial true Yang Qi, which makes them the most spiritually gifted among the myriad things. True Qi gradually develops and grows during the night, as though linked to the creative process before Heaven and Earth were divided. When the mind and spirit are full, fierce birds of prey cannot seize a person, nor can rhinoceroses or tigers harm them, because their spirit and Qi are powerful. Around the age of sixteen, true Qi becomes abundant. If, at that point, they encounter a perfected person who teaches them how to preserve and nourish body and mind—so that their innate spiritual spark is not drawn away by external things, their body is not overstrained, their Jing and Qi are not disturbed, their breathing is deep rather than confined to the throat, they accord with the Dao of Heaven, and worldly affairs cannot alter their resolve—then they may live far beyond the twelve hundred years mentioned by the ancients. This is the Wuwei (non-action) Dao of the postnatal condition.

What is the primordial condition? People live between Heaven and Earth. As they reach adulthood, their desires grow stronger: they take wine as water, treat indulgence as normal, give free rein to their feelings and desires, and deplete their Jing and spirit. The primordial Qi they originally received is driven into action and consumed, like a tiger running at full speed, until it gradually declines.

In the hexagrams of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes), Qian is pure Yang. When it first joins with Kun, the substance of Qian changes and becomes the Li trigram. Kun is pure Yin; secretly taking one Yang line from Qian, it becomes the Kan trigram. Thereafter, Qian’s substance becomes empty and Kun’s becomes full; Kan and Li are the forms that Qian and Kun have taken through this transformation. Ordinary people live in accord with this change. Men and women indulge their desires, their Jing is exhausted and their spirit declines, and for most people the process ends there.

Great practitioners, however, cultivate according to the way of the Golden Elixir, reversing the ordinary sequence of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). “Reversal” means that the Yang Qi in Kan is bright and blazing: it is Qian Metal. The Yin line in Li is quiet and profound: it is Kun Yin. Golden Elixir cultivation raises the Yang Qi within Kan to the position above Li, joining one’s own Earth with Wu Earth; subdues the tiger in Kan and the dragon in Li; uses Kan Metal to overcome Li Wood; takes Kan Water to refine Li Fire; gathers Kan Qi to replenish Li Jing; and turns Kan Yang back to fill Li Yin. Ultimately, it restores the pure Qian form, making the practitioner a perfected person.

The “finding companions in the southwest” of the Commentary on the Yi, Wei Boyang’s “the perfected person sinks deep into the abyss,” Tiantai’s “when lead appears and Gui is born, gather it quickly,” and Mazu’s “with one mouthful, drink up the waters of the Western River” all speak of this way of restoring the Elixir. Practitioners must subdue their own dragon and tiger and gather the Jing and Qi within their bodies. Subduing them depends on De; gathering them depends on the Dao. With the Dao but without De, nothing can be gathered; with De but without the Dao, nothing can be subdued.

Gathering must be completed in a single moment, without hesitation. Here, “a single moment” means gathering and refining during the first three days of the lunar month. On the night of the third day, the moon rises in the Geng direction. At this time the source of Water is clear and undisturbed, so it should be gathered promptly over half an hour, guided eastward to the Magpie Bridge—the point where the Ren and Du channels meet. There it condenses into an Elixir the size of a millet grain, which is then stored and refined in the Golden Chamber, the inner place of alchemical practice. This is called the Golden Elixir, and also the Great Dao of the precelestial state. Whoever understands that the Golden Elixir is the true Metal within their own original Qian form is subtle, mysterious, penetrating, and unfathomable.

Biyangzi Che Langu of Jiugong Mountain has been a pillar of the Daoist tradition for more than forty years. The achievements and teachings he has established are remarkable and plain for all to see. He has an exceptional eye for recognizing talent, unlike those who are jealous of gifted people.

I am an unconventional person who follows the Dao single-mindedly. It is hard to avoid seeming foolish and ridiculous, as though I were deliberately putting my clumsiness on display. I do not adorn myself with fine clothes, nor am I skilled at forced flattery or currying favor. When I first bowed to him in greeting, we were deeply in accord. He asked me about the Dao of the Elixir—the path of Neidan cultivation—and raised many questions about matters he had never heard of. Seeing that his Shen and Qi were abundant and his bearing composed, I passed on to him all the essentials taught by the ancestral masters concerning the precelestial and postcelestial Golden Elixir, and urged him further to apply himself.

Alas, people wear high caps and enter the school of Laozi because the Dao of Laozi teaches them to cherish Jing and Qi and cultivate the method of return. It esteems purity, stillness, and emptiness; it reduces cravings and desires, moderates eating and drinking, and withdraws from worldly turmoil. It practices compassion widely and accumulates hidden merit—good deeds done without seeking reward—while steadily diminishing desire, until it reaches Wuwei. Only such people deserve to be called disciples of Laozi.

Today, some people live in Daoist temples and wear crane-feather cloaks, yet regard seeking the Dao as shameful. Why do they not reflect on what they came to the tradition to learn? Now and then, someone speaks of the path of self-cultivation, and the others gather to mock him. The Most High Lord Lao said, “People of the lowest kind hear of the Dao and laugh.” Was it really like this in ancient times, too? To enter the Daoist path and yet fail to practice its teachings is to be a worm gnawing at Laozi’s school. Such a worm wears Daoist robes while slandering Daoist teachings; it accepts Daoist offerings while disparaging Daoist principles. This is like wearing the robes of Yao while opposing his words. I truly cannot understand the point of acting this way.

Even those with outstanding talents may willingly cast aside their lofty, honored status and descend into a polluted world, where worldly people call them heretics. It is a pity. If among them there are some who can cast off arrogance and desire, moderate their food, and sit quietly in meditation, then even without guidance from a true master they are not offenders against the tradition. The immortals are compassionate. They pay no heed to mockery and slander from others; they only hope to transform the world and help people cultivate the Dao and become perfected.

Long ago, when the Yellow Emperor sought the Dao, he went forward on his knees to ask for instruction. On hearing the teachings, he praised Guangchengzi’s words as truths in accord with the Way of Heaven. People today are far removed from the ancient Dao. They take affectation and deceit for sincerity, and absurd falsehoods for their original nature. Before hearing of the Dao, they say there is no such thing. After hearing a little, they think they have heard enough. Some, as soon as they hear their master explain the Dao, worry that the explanation is not good enough. Once they learn a few fragments, they say these things were already theirs. Even when they encounter the Dao’s profound mysteries, they only congratulate themselves in secret on their good fortune, fearing that their master will ask them for something in return. How could they be willing to practice diligently? If that is truly the case, who can reach the utmost attainment in cultivating the Dao?

Biyangzi is different. When he hears a little, he follows up with further questions. When he hears a second layer, he continues by asking about a third. He does not boast of his intelligence; instead, the more he learns, the deeper the subject seems to him, and the more diligently he applies himself. Perhaps in the mountains and forests there may appear someone like him: perceptive and transcendent, who regards life and death as the great matter of human existence. He probes the subtle and understands the mysterious, cultivating the returned Elixir—the Elixir formed through Neidan practice—until the Elixir embryo coalesces in the Yellow Chamber, the place where the embryo is nurtured in Neidan practice. Even if he does not attain a daytime ascent to the heavens, he will come close to the realm of the immortals. How much more so, given his vigorous and steadfast effort? As the saying goes, “When one person leaves home to become a Daoist, nine generations of kin become immortals.” This must be the sort of thing it refers to.

Today, although Biyangzi is busy overseeing affairs, he still seeks the Dao with diligence. He regards steadfast, sincere practice as true achievement and does not use empty deception to make an outward show. He is entirely unlike those who live as if in a dream, drunk with delusion and unaware of it. The Nanhua Jing, another name for the Zhuangzi, says: “Buliang Yi had the makings of a sage, but not the Dao of a sage. I intend to tell him the Dao of the sage; perhaps then he will become a sage.” Biyangzi has now heard the Dao of the sage, has already cultivated the De of purposeful action, and has attained the high achievement of Wuwei. Perhaps he is the fulfillment of the prophecy of “eight hundred years at Longsha.” Those who rise to prominence in the future will surely take you as their model. Keep pressing forward.

End of Volume Eleven of The Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir by Shangyangzi.

Volume Twelve of The Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir by Shangyangzi

Written by Shangyangzi Guānwú, Chen Zhixu, of the Purple Empyrean and Crimson Palace.

Those who follow the example of their predecessors should cultivate diligently.

End of Volume Eleven of The Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir by Shangyangzi.

Volume Twelve of The Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir by Shangyangzi

Volume Twelve of The Great Essentials of the Golden Elixir by Shangyangzi

Written by Shangyangzi Guānwú, Chen Zhixu, of the Purple Empyrean and Crimson Palace.

Accumulated Deeds

With Zongyangzi Ming Suchan

Mastering the learning of ancient and modern times, reading widely in the old books, annotating the classics and writing works of one’s own, composing forceful prose that can change the prevailing spirit, and displaying elegant ideas and exceptional eloquence—this is the highest level of literary learning. Few who reach this level do not become self-satisfied; such people often have more talent than virtue. Investigating the hidden principles, entering the realm of subtlety, probing the miraculous, discerning transformations, accumulating Jing and Qi, and refining Qi until it takes form—this is the highest level of Daoist cultivation. Few who reach this level do not grow proud of themselves. But a person who can guide others with compassion may stand alongside Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin, the immortals of Daoist legend often known together as Zhong-Lü.

When I climbed Mount Jiugong, I met a man named Ming Suchan. He had just turned twenty when he left home to become a Daoist. He was bright and eager to learn. By the time he was nearly thirty, he stood out from others. He had read widely and learned much, while also humbly seeking instruction and gathering accounts from others. He discussed the affairs of his day, examined events of the past, and wrote with such surging fluency that reading his work was a pleasure. Yet he could not help becoming self-satisfied and showing off his brilliance, so few people truly understood or appreciated him.

Later, he sought the teachings of the immortals. He sincerely welcomed visitors from every direction, whatever their learning—whether a minor side path or an obscure method—and listened to what they had to say. After meeting dozens of people over time, he believed he had fully grasped the Way of the Golden Elixir. I calmly asked what he had learned and found that some taught people to circulate the spirits and Qi within the body; this seemed correct, but was not. Others taught people to use the Dantian as a furnace and refine lead and mercury; this seemed close, but differed in important ways. Worse still, some spoke of the art of “gathering and supplementing” through sexual intercourse, while others smelted minerals and made elixirs. Some sat rigidly without moving; others spoke emptily of visualization and inner contemplation. Ming Suchan now complacently believed that the Way of the Golden Elixir amounted to no more than this. He had memorized the Elixir Classics and talismanic texts—Daoist writings and phrases or symbols used to verify the Dao—and could cite authorities and twist interpretations until his arguments sounded plausible. He looked down on his peers and acted as though no one else were there. He was on the verge of becoming so fixed in his views that he could not be turned back.

When we first met, he cautiously asked me about the Golden Elixir. I saw that he was talented and full of himself: outwardly respectful, but careless in his courtesies. The people he had encountered had never truly taught him where to begin. So I followed his lead, praising and commending him, and treating him with respect. I did this in the hope of guiding him toward change. He needed guidance because he was bound by preconceptions and false teachings; when he heard the genuine principles, he would surely be startled and disbelieving.

Alas, those people of exceptional talent in that time, despite possessing rare gifts, clung to a single narrow view and were often unfit to discuss the Great Dao. Some were ashamed to ask others for instruction; others relied on their own cleverness. What, then, could one expect of those less capable than they? I saw that Ming Suchan had extraordinary aptitude and a bold, resolute will, and could be taught the Dao. Yet in his everyday conduct he was arrogant and undisciplined, and clung to old habits. First, he had to curb his pride and wildness, gather his scattered attention, dispel his doubts, and correct his mistaken views. Then I could awaken him through the Dao-heart. When Ming Suchan heard these words, he changed completely and at once came to understand. So I first instructed him to proceed steadily and begin with practical steps; only then did I teach him the method of refining the spirits and Qi through prenatal cultivation.

“Primordial Qi” is the fundamental vital energy on which the refining of the Golden Elixir depends. The roots of Jing, Qi, and Shen lie in the primordial state before one’s parents conceived one—that is, in the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the original source before the myriad things differentiated. Human beings receive this primordial Taiji Qi at birth: life takes shape within undivided chaos and emerges in a profound, mysterious state, when the primordial Qi is in greatest harmony.

The scripture says that when a boy is born, all the spirits cry “Respect,” underscoring qualities such as reverence, gentleness, and humility. When a girl is born, all the spirits cry “Obey,” emphasizing qualities such as gentleness, grace, and compliance. A man may possess a firm, upright character, but if he does not know reverence, he turns away from life’s foundation. A woman may meet the standards of women’s work, appearance, speech, and conduct, but if she does not know how to yield and comply, she too harms her De.

The harmonious Qi received at birth grows day by day, and around the age of sixteen the Yang Qi reaches an important stage. Those born with innate understanding act at this time in accordance with the principle of highest De and Wuwei (non-action), following nature and avoiding needless interference. Ordinary people, however, are often disturbed by deluded thoughts, losing the original simplicity and purity of their nature and finding it difficult to preserve. In this way, the “Qian Metal” originally received—the symbol of primordial Yang essence—escapes like a tiger and takes refuge in the position represented by the “West.” Thereafter, people are stirred by fame and profit, honor and disgrace, and even in old age do not know how to withdraw and conserve themselves. This is truly regrettable.

To preserve Jing, Qi, and Shen, one must return to the primordial Taiji Qi; there is no other way. This is why it is said that all the principles under Heaven ultimately come down to one. This primordial Taiji Qi is also called “True Lead” or “Qian Metal.” It is concealed within “Kan,” which symbolizes water and Yang contained within Yin, and is known as the “seed embryo hidden in mica”: the true Yang Qi lies concealed within Yin, awaiting gestation.

People who do not understand the root of the Great Dao instead adopt techniques such as “gathering Yin through sexual practice,” “restoring essence to the brain,” and “flying metal behind the elbow.” They try to prolong life by drawing on Yin to replenish Yang and gathering in essence and Qi, but in fact hasten the depletion of life. Practitioners should understand the principles by which life is generated and transformed, as well as the source from which the “medicinal substances”—the inner Jing and Qi used in alchemical practice—arise.

The scripture uses terms of direction and number such as “Kan Water and Qian Metal,” “southwest,” and “three in the east, two in the south, meeting in the center” to describe the process by which the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases converges and returns to the center. The “true tiger and true dragon” refer to the two kinds of true Qi, Yin and Yang. “Gui one” and “two-eight” are numerical symbols associated with the joining of water and fire, Yin and Yang. Practitioners must recognize that the “mysterious female” (the subtle gateway from which all things are generated) is the key to restoring the Elixir, and understand that the “knife-point measure” (a symbol for a tiny quantity of medicine) is the medicine itself. When the two Qi of Yin and Yang intertwine, they must be made to flow freely back and forth; when the Qi of Wood and Metal are separated, they must also be brought together. In refining and nourishing, practitioners must distinguish host from guest and grasp the sequence and timing of the fire. Even for a moment, they must proceed with care.

When the “precious pearl” appears in the realm that symbolizes the moon, it must be gathered securely. When the golden fluid reaches the Dantian (energy center in the abdomen), it must be gently harmonized. The scripture then advises practitioners to be yielding toward others: never rushing to take the lead, treating others generously, and allowing them to have their way. Their outward manner should be modest and unadorned, reflecting the Daoist way. To be humble and free of contention is an essential precept of cultivation.

Only then can the work of refining and nourishing succeed in the “furnace,” allowing a single point of true Qi to settle in the Yellow Court, the inner part of the body regarded as a center of cultivation. Next, practitioners follow the signs and timings of cultivation through nine cycles of refinement, cleanse their thoughts, clear away distracting concerns, and nurture the embryo for three hundred days. They then refine Shen until it returns to emptiness, bringing the spirit back to stillness and completing the practitioner’s great work.

When Ming Sucan—his own chosen name—first heard these words, he was astonished. Hearing them a second time, he felt doubtful. He pondered them repeatedly through the night, until his whole body broke into a sweat. Suddenly, as if standing before a towering wall, he grasped their meaning completely and accepted their principle outright. Only then did he understand that nature and life are two aspects of Yin-Yang, and that the body and mind-spirit alike contain many kinds of spirits and vital energies. “Pure and protected” and “perfectly round” both describe the Dao’s purity and completeness. The scene, like snow filling the sky, seems to invite one to swallow it in a single mouthful; yet the clear waters of the Western River need not be drunk all at once. Only then did he realize that the Great Dao is not found only in texts on Neidan cultivation. Though he had studied diligently for decades, he understood only now that he had never truly learned anything.

If there were many females but no male, how could there be eggs? The pairing of female and male here illustrates the principle that Yin and Yang must unite for generation to occur.

Someone asked, “What does the name Ming Sucan mean?” He replied, “My name is Cong, and I have long admired Bai Yuchan, the Daoist priest and Neidan practitioner of the Southern Song. So I use my surname to give thanks to Heaven and Earth for covering and supporting all things, my given name to give thanks to my parents, and my courtesy name to give thanks to my friends. ‘Ming’ means ‘white,’ and ‘su’ is close in meaning to ‘jade,’ so I call myself Ming Sucan.”

Shangyangzi said, “You truly aspire to seek immortality: you admire the immortals, yearn for the Dao they cultivate, and take their names and deeds as the goals you pursue. Your devotion is already deep. Do you also understand the principles behind it? To understand the principles thoroughly and remain free of delusion is called ‘clarity’; to hear the Daoist teachings and then practice them diligently is called ‘simplicity.’

“The toad is a creature of the moon. It symbolizes Yang within Yin, white within black, masculine within feminine, and the Yang line in the Kan trigram. The toad has only three legs; these are taken as an image of the cauldron vessel, specifically the suspended-womb cauldron, a symbolic furnace vessel in alchemy. The toad’s subtle wonder is precisely the working of the Dao. Is this also what you mean when you admire the Venerable Ziqing, an honorific for a Daoist cultivator?

“Even so, I must urge you on. A practitioner’s mind should be like a mirror: it does not contrive to welcome things or reject them in advance. When things arrive, it reflects them truthfully, but does not keep them stored in the heart. My teacher Zhao said, ‘Yield humbly and do not contend; then you will have few faults or grievances.’ Yuchan, the Daoist Bai Yuchan, wrote in his ‘Song of the Great Dao,’ ‘The immortals have few secrets to rely on; they are simply somewhat “simple-minded,” as people say.’ He also said that those who study immortality in the world develop an elegant and refined spirit. The ‘Song of Wandering through the Clouds’ says, ‘Let others heap ridicule and abuse on me and drive me away; I leave them to do as they will.’

“Alas, the Venerable Ziqing could endure the world’s mockery and abuse, always conducting himself as if ‘simple-minded.’ Yet some people today are self-important and conceited, satisfied with themselves, while still yearning for the Dao of immortality. This is truly foolish. If you can cultivate an elegant and refined spirit, cast off arrogance and negligence, and treat others with humility, then even when they mock and abuse you, you can bear it calmly. I transmitted the teaching from Danyang to Huang Fang Gong; after that, it passed down through six generations before reaching you. You must practice diligently.”

Mingsu Chan said, “In the past, when I first heard these principles, I thought that anyone could become an immortal like Zhongli Quan or Lü Dongbin. Only now do I deeply understand that, beneath the whole sky, there is not a single person who can truly take up this task. The Dao is so wondrous and profound that it is exceedingly hard to grasp. From the generation of Master Gong, it has passed down through six generations before reaching you. You must practice diligently.”

Ming Suchan said: In the past, I heard and read various claims and once thought that anyone could cultivate themselves into an immortal like Zhongli Quan or Lü Dongbin. Now I understand profoundly that, looking across Heaven and Earth, there is not a single person who can truly undertake this work. The Dao is mysterious and profound, and Heaven’s workings are remote and unfathomable. How could they be treated lightly?

I often say that Elder Jade Toad (Bai Yuchan) had only just received instruction from the old immortal of the Mud Pill Palace. In a poem he wrote, “Yin and Yang reversed, entering the hidden valley.” He also wrote, “For sixty-four years, I was mistaken.” And again: “The year before last, the immortal master sent a letter back, saying my name was known in the Golden Palace.” Why did he hear the Dao so late, yet complete his cultivation so quickly? Among those who now receive instruction, who understands that this supremely subtle and mysterious Great Dao is so difficult to fathom and so difficult to put into words? Only now do I realize that for fifty-eight years I have been following the wrong path.

Even if one reads thousands upon thousands of scriptures and books, one may still fail to find their true essentials. If one merely learns to seize the White Tiger of the Western Mountain (a Neidan term symbolizing Yin essence or Metal Qi) and subdue the Azure Dragon of the Eastern Sea (a Neidan term symbolizing Yang Qi or Wood Qi), one may think the great work of cultivation is complete. How could one then presume to slight the Dao and look down on the world? So I have written these words. When you later meet the immortal companions of Penglai, wherever you may be, you can show them this and ask their counsel; there must be something here worth learning from. These words are indeed true.

To Ouyang Yuyuan, Master Xuanyang

The sages of old said, “The body is preserved by relying on the Dao; life is prolonged by relying on methods.” In your letter you wrote, “Fish in rivers and lakes forget one another; people, too, forget one another amid humanity and the arts of the Dao.” From this we can see that the Dao and its arts cannot be separated: the arts take the Dao as their root, while the Dao is put into effect through the arts.

Understand that the “Dao” spoken of here is not the general principle people speak of in everyday life, but the Dao of the celestial immortals; the “arts” spoken of here are not methods for ordinary use, but arts of long life. I have something to say to Master Xuanyang. Master Xuanyang is Ouyang Yuyuan of Mount Lu. He asked Master Shangyang about the Dao, and Master Shangyang then taught him the Dao of the celestial immortals and transmitted to him the arts of long life.

Master Shangyang said: This Great Dao is exceedingly profound and must be investigated deeply. Ouyang Yuyuan of Mount Lu once asked Master Shangyang about the Great Dao, so Master Shangyang taught him the Dao of the celestial immortals and transmitted the arts of long life to him.

Shangyangzi says: This principle is profound and subtle, so one must probe deeply into its fine signs. The Book of Changes says that only by probing deeply can one understand the intentions of people throughout the world, and only by discerning the subtle changes in things can one accomplish the world’s undertakings. “Reaching the depths” means being as deep as an abyss; “investigating the subtle” means being as vast as the sky. The boundless sky symbolizes Yang Qi developing to its utmost, while the unfathomable abyss symbolizes Yin Qi developing to its utmost.

Thus, when Yin Qi reaches its utmost, it becomes the Kan trigram, which symbolizes water, the moon, and related things; when Yang Qi reaches its utmost, it becomes the Li trigram, which symbolizes fire, the sun, and related things. Kan contains a single thread of Yang Qi, while Li contains a measure of Yin essence. The cultivation of Celestial Immortals takes Kan and Li as its foundation, while the art of longevity relies on them as the key to its practice. Confucius said, “Use such methods with care, and you will make no mistakes.” What methods are meant here? They are methods for reversing the Yin-Yang relationship of Kan and Li and putting that reversal to use. The ancient immortals said, “Reverse the Five Phases, and the earth becomes the Seven Treasures; let the Five Phases proceed in their natural order, and the entire Dharma realm becomes a pit of fire.”

The Yang nature of the metal essence within Kan is refined together with the true fire in the Li palace—the direction or inner position represented by the Li trigram. This is called the art of “reversing Yin and Yang.” The key to applying this art lies in probing the subtle shifts in timing. “Subtlety” refers to the elusive depths of Yin-Yang change, so fine that even ghosts and spirits cannot perceive them and the sun and moon cannot illuminate them. Since the sun and moon cannot illuminate them, the cultivator must unite with the Dao and with the sun and moon.

To unite with the sun and moon means that when the moon begins to wax on a Geng day—a day marked by the stem Geng—metal Qi is flourishing and water Qi is clear; therefore, one should gather metal on the third day of the lunar month. This is called sharing in the radiance of the sun and moon. Here, “gathering metal” is a Neidan term for collecting and employing the metal essence; “fire timing” refers to adjusting the true fire’s refining process in accordance with the right moment. Once the metal essence in Kan begins to emerge, one uses one’s own true fire to refine it according to the timing. This is called fire timing.

Geng belongs to the west, the proper position of Metal. The art of reversing Yin and Yang consists in gathering Geng Metal from within Kan, because Metal’s mother is concealed within the embryonic womb of the Zi position. Using Kan’s Yang nature to replenish Li’s Yin nature is called the Way of the Celestial Immortals. “Subtlety” is the finest sign that change is beginning, as well as the precursor to an auspicious result. The subtle moment that accords with the Dao is the art of longevity.

“Subtlety” also means something hidden and obscure. The Notes on the Scripture of Nurturing Life says, “Follow the courses of the Dipper to refine the body, letting radiance illuminate the vital essence. Only through secret practice can one attain the Dao.” Xuanyangzi probes the mysteries of subtle timing, deeply understands the intent behind the way of inquiry, and practices in secret with sustained diligence. In this way, one can advance from the art of longevity into the ranks of the Celestial Immortals.

Shangyangzi wrote this passage to Fuyangzi Ouyang Yutian and Quanyangzi Zhou Caocang.

The Way of the Golden Elixir—the Daoist path of Neidan (internal alchemy)—has been transmitted through thirty-four generations, reaching the Elder of the Two Jades. After three more generations, it came down to me. At first, when I heard Master Zhao Yuandu speak of this Way, I had long been devoted to it, yet could not help hesitating. Later, while traveling away from home, I paid a visit to a perfected one—a person accomplished in the Dao—who transmitted to me, without reservation, all the most profound secret texts of Mount Qingcheng. Since receiving his teachings with reverence, I have studied diligently day and night, never daring to slacken.

Alas, more than a hundred years have passed since the celebratory gathering of the old immortal Changchun, and no true immortal or sage teacher has been willing to descend into the world. People have therefore come to believe that the Way of the Golden Elixir no longer exists. If cultivation is only for one’s own physical and mental well-being, what place is there for merit and practice? So I composed ten volumes of Essentials of the Golden Elixir. After finishing them, I worried that without a master’s oral transmission, how could people grasp the teachings on their own? I therefore carried the books from place to place, seeking people out without regard for my own standing and humbling myself to visit them. Whenever someone seemed even slightly able to receive and understand the teachings, I bowed modestly and urged them sincerely, hoping they might enter this Way. Some insulted me, and I bore it for the time being. Now and then, one or two people understood me, only for hundreds or thousands to criticize me. I wished only to transmit and put this Way into practice, without concern for right and wrong. When mocked, I accepted it gladly; when I encountered someone suited to cultivation, I did all I could to guide them forward.

Those who could come to the gate, I led inside. Those already inside, I guided up the steps; those who had climbed them, I led into the hall; and those already in the hall, I ushered into the inner chamber. I devoted myself to this so that the Great Dao would not be cut off, worldly people might be rescued from the pit of fire, and the world might know that the Way of the Golden Elixir truly exists and is no falsehood.

On Mount Lu lived two men, Ouyang Yutian and Zhou Caocang, both steadfast in their principles and noble in character. Yutian made calm detachment the center of his life and dealt with affairs in an adaptable, evenhanded way. His aspirations had always lain beyond the worldly realm; he feared only that the world might bind him. Thus, although he associated with people, he did not form factions; though he lived among them, he got along harmoniously without going along with the crowd. It was only because he had not met a true master that he remained confined to dry, seated cultivation.

Caocang was sharp and perceptive from childhood. He studied the learning of Cheng and Zhu, conducted himself with rectitude, and placed filial devotion and fraternal affection first among the virtues. He made loyalty and trustworthiness his guiding principles and upheld reverence and righteousness. He could be called a gentleman. His dress and bearing differed from those of ordinary people, and he was also skilled at writing for the civil service examinations. From this, one can see that his aspirations still had room to develop further.

We met at the Pen River and took to each other at once. Only then did I learn how well he understood the learning of human nature and heavenly principle, and that he was not without knowledge of the teachings of Cheng and Zhu. I now see where that learning falls short. After hearing me speak, he had many questions and had also faced various criticisms, yet he was able to grasp the teachings deeply at once. This shows how clearly and thoroughly he understood their principles.

Still, the two men’s established principles and learning each rested on their own foundations. Had I confronted them at once with the most profound secret teachings, they might well have been startled and doubtful. I therefore proceeded calmly, using examples and analogies to dispel their misgivings little by little. I then selected the most striking passages from the alchemical scriptures to awaken them, and used sound principles to examine the points they were inclined to overlook, strengthening their conviction and deepening their understanding. Only after that did I transmit these teachings to them:

The Golden Elixir, the state sought through Daoist Neidan cultivation, is the Dao Laozi describes as perceiving the “subtle” and the “manifest.” “Subtle” means acting through Wuwei, yet being able to accomplish everything; “manifest” means acting deliberately, and can also imply contrived effort. Wuwei means acting with ease and in accord with nature; deliberate action means forcing things through exertion.

People are born endowed with the qualities of great De and are originally pure and still. Yet, without realizing it, day after day they bore open another aperture, damaging the whole and undivided original nature. Ordinary people then follow their desires, causing that already damaged original nature to decline further. Now I have given Yutian the name Fuyangzi, “One Who Restores Yang,” and Caochuang the name Quanyangzi, “One Who Completes Yang.” Surely I did so for a reason. Those who attain profound cultivation begin precisely where the original nature has been damaged, working to restore it to wholeness. No worldly method can make it whole again; only the Way of the Golden Elixir can do so.

What does “restore” mean? It means bringing one’s true Yang, the Yang energy that represents life’s original source in Neidan practice, back again. What does “complete” mean? It means making true Yang pure and whole. Drawing the White Tiger, a symbolic term in Neidan practice, home to nurture and refine it is called “restoring Yang”; refining a bright, perfect pearl like the full moon is called “completing Yang.” Once Yang energy has returned, one must attend to the firing times—the regulation of advance and retreat, timing, and degree in cultivation. Once Yang energy is complete, one can cast off the mortal body, a Neidan term for reaching a deeper level of cultivation. This is what the Way of the Golden Elixir means.

There are, however, three further essentials in cultivation. First, the oral instructions must be personally transmitted by a teacher. Second, one must cultivate with firm resolve and diligence. Third, stillness and calm must be used to restrain restless activity. Now that the mind instructions of the oral teaching have been fully transmitted, the key is whether the two of you will work with resolve and use stillness to restrain activity.

In the past, when the Perfected One of Pure Yang transmitted the teachings to the Perfected One of Pure Purity, he tested him with ten trials. When the Perfected One of Complete Yang transmitted the teachings to the Perfected One of Elixir Yang, he too instructed and tested him repeatedly, including through the division of a pear. The sages and perfected ones of earlier generations made the transmission of the Way exceedingly difficult. You and I have not undergone such trials, but the oath we made is of the utmost gravity. You must keep it carefully: owe no shame to the spirits above, do not disappoint your teachers, and bring no disgrace upon your fellow initiates. If you fulfill these three obligations, the Golden Elixir will surely be perfected in both of you. Once the Golden Elixir is complete, the sacred embryo—the inner life that symbolizes the consummation of the fruits of Neidan cultivation—will be complete. When the sacred embryo is complete, the Realized Person will appear. At that point, having a body beyond the body, a Daoist expression for an extraordinary state of cultivation, will be entirely within your reach.

The Way of the Immortals has been transmitted through thirty-eight generations, and is now being passed on to the two of you. You should encourage one another and cultivate with care.

People often say that poverty and wealth, low status and high status are determined by fate; that long life and early death, hardship and good fortune are governed by fixed allotments; that these allotments depend on one’s fate, and fate in turn depends on Heaven. In the world, there are people close in age and alike in their interests, as well as people who stand out and far surpass others. Yet only the perfected people of antiquity could go beyond the bounds of long life and early death, hardship and prosperity, and escape the constraints of wealth and poverty and high and low status.

Recently, Shunshen and I met and took an immediate liking to one another. We felt at ease together from the very first, and within a few words discovered how closely our hearts aligned. Like fragrant orchids, we shared the same nature, and we both loved mountains, waters, mist, and clouds. As we talked freely, we raised our cups and drank. Our spirits were unrestrained; we held our heads high and spoke of lofty things. When something displeased us, we calmly let it pass without reply; when something pleased us, we spoke frankly. We were both carefree and unconstrained by worldly conventions, with a taste for life beyond the dust of the world.

My interest only grew, and I questioned him closely. I learned that we had both been born in the final month of summer in the year called Shangzhang Sheti in the ancient calendar—not only on the same day, but at the same hour. I laughed and said, “We were born in the same year, on the same day. Surely our interests must be alike, too.” When I checked further, I found that I was from Luling in Jiangyou, in what is now the Jiangxi region, while Shunshen was from Wuning in Jiangyou. We had both been born in Jiangyou. An elder had given me the style name “Guanyu,” meaning “Observing Myself,” while Shunshen’s sobriquet was “Guangu,” meaning “Observing the Ancients”; even our names were similar. Shunshen lived on Mount Jiugong, and my home stood high among the Three Mountains. Both our homes were in the mountains.

We both recited the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and studied the Zhouyi learning of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. We both wore old-style caps and cherished the Way of Yao and Shun. I have often regretted that people of the past tended to favor one school of thought while rejecting another. Shunshen and I, however, are able to understand and master these teachings together. So it is not only our interests that are alike; we share many other things as well.

But on closer inspection, even what we share has its differences. I adopted the name “Guanyu,” or “Observing Myself,” simply to reflect on myself. Shunshen’s sobriquet, “Guangu,” or “Observing the Ancients,” means that he is skilled at studying people of the past. By observing them through moral virtue, benevolence, and righteousness, he can understand what they had at heart. By studying their rites, music, institutions, and cultural records, he can learn how they actually lived. If he admires Yao after studying the ancients, he can become like Yao; if he admires Shun, he can become like Shun. This is where “Observing the Ancients” surpasses “Observing Myself.”

There is another respect in which I fall far short of Shunshen. I am wholly infatuated with the Way of the golden cauldron and fire tallies: the Golden Elixir and its stages of firing and formulas. I want to turn the Water of Kan to replenish the Fire of Li, to harness the dragon and summon the tiger, to seek the waters of the Western River and draw in the companion of the southwest. I also want to gather white secretly from within the dark, and transform through the yin within yang, hoping to shed my old form like a cicada and undergo a wondrous change. These are symbolic expressions for Daoist internal alchemy. Unlike Shunshen, who devotes himself to studying the ancients, I make these obscure, elusive practices my great concern, afraid that I might fail to attain my goal. This is what I mean when I say I fall far short of him.

Pines, cypresses, osmanthus trees, and junipers are planted on the same hillside, in the same soil and at the same season. Yet in time, some grow with crooked trunks, some wither and decay, and some spread their branches and rise straight toward the clouds. Is Creation too stingy to bring them to maturity? The same is true of people.

Even so, Shunshen and I have much in common, and neither of us wants to make a point of distinguishing himself from the other, for we do not cling to fixed allotments of fate. We do not wait for official robes and high rank, nor do we envy a fortune of ten thousand gold pieces. We ask only for enough food to satisfy hunger and thirst, and enough silk to keep out the winter cold. In this way, we wash the impurities from our spirits and roam freely in the “realm of nothing at all”—Zhuangzi’s place of freedom, where nothing is needed for support—going beyond long life and early death, hardship and prosperity, wealth and poverty, and high and low status. By comparison, those who buy fields and build houses in their greed for fame and profit may wash their ears and call themselves pure, yet they still seem to sully the names of such recluses as Xu You and Chao Fu.

On the eighth day of the sixth month in the year Yihai, we gathered at our residence with a pig and a goose. We raised our cups and congratulated one another. Such an occasion is rare in a lifetime, so I wrote these words to set out what we shared and how we differed.

Gu Guxin said, “Since we have so much in common, why not teach one another the Way of the Golden Cauldron and Kan-Li, the principles of Yin-Yang harmonization centered on Neidan cultivation, and the subtle meaning of the spiritual transformations of the Dragon and Tiger, in which the Dragon and Tiger symbolize Yin-Yang changes in Neidan? That would give practical expression to what we share.” I replied, “Very well.”

When we met again the following year, he asked with even greater earnestness. I cautioned him: “The Great Way of the Golden Elixir—the path of Neidan cultivation—requires that you first accumulate De. Only then may you hear it. Otherwise, your cultivation will falter and meet with setbacks.” I went on: “You devote yourself to pursuing profit, cling to schemes and calculations, are driven by cravings and desires, and give free rein to anger and suspicion. If you seek virtue in this state, it will be virtue in name only; seeking the Dao will be difficult as well. The Dao and De are like Yin and Yang: neither can be absent. Yin without Yang cannot be called the Dao; cultivation of the Dao without De gives no grounds to speak of the Golden Elixir. An ancient immortal said, ‘Do not discuss the Dao with someone whose words are lofty but whose conduct is corrupt.’”

If one studies and seeks learning, one might as well not study at all unless one intends to gain something from it. How much more so when cultivating the Dao? I did not transmit the method to him at once, just as with planting a tree: if you want its roots to take hold, you must first examine them. Gu Guxin listened, repeatedly agreeing without objection. Remorse arose in him, and he said he would cast off deluded thoughts such as anger and suspicion. Only then did I transmit the method to him, saying:

Golden Elixir cultivation combines active effort with a state of Wuwei (non-action). This is also described as using external lead in conjunction with internal mercury. Mercury refers to Jing (essence), while lead refers to Qi (vital energy). Gathering and refining primordial lead in Kan, one of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), often used to symbolize kidney water and Yang within Yin, is called “active practice.” Joining acquired mercury in Li, another of the Eight Trigrams, often used to symbolize heart fire, is called “non-action.”

Gathering lead takes only one moment; joining mercury takes ten months. “One moment” refers to the three days after the new moon first appears, symbolizing the need to seize the right time for gathering and refining. “Ten months” refers to the completion of the Elixir practice through nine revolutions. “Knowing the masculine and holding to the feminine” means seizing the opportunity and applying oneself to the practice during those three days. “Knowing the white and holding to the black” means completing the practice of nine revolutions over ten months.

That is how the principle works. Believe it, then cultivate accordingly. Reading the words of the ancients and gaining insight from them, one comes to understand that doubt or acceptance depends on the human mind; the Qian metal, symbolizing Yang vigor, is within the heart of Kan. One then knows that the principles of the world are all the same, and that the sages have only one kind of mind. For this reason, I took the name “Master Heart Yang” (Xinyangzi).

The end of Scroll Twelve of Master Shangyang’s Essentials of the Golden Elixir.

Master Shangyang’s Essentials of the Golden Elixir, Scroll Thirteen

Written by Chen Zhixu, Master Shangyangzi of Zixiao’s Crimson Palace, Guanwǔ

Revealing the Truth

Life and death are the great matters of human existence.

One night, while observing a pure fast, Shangyangzi sat quietly. A disciple attended him and said, “I have seen you enter your room alone, calm and at ease, concentrating your spirit and nourishing your essence. It is as though you were strolling through a wondrous garden, though your body does not move; as though you were content in a dwelling where the immortals reside, though you have not left your place. Are you roaming freely in spirit, Master? Or are you in a hazy state of Wuwei, letting things follow their natural course? I venture to ask.”

Shangyangzi remained seated in silence and did not answer. The disciple asked again, “You gather in your hearing and sit without a sound reaching you. Are you riding a radiance of light—some wondrous luminous Qi carried by those who cultivate the Dao—to a remote and shadowy realm? You fix your gaze and sit without seeing. Is your spirit-consciousness flying into the realm of emptiness? I venture to ask.”

The disciple asked three times in succession, but Shangyangzi did not speak. The disciple said, “I know that my gifts are modest, yet I have been fortunate to attend you. I ask these questions because life and death are the greatest matters in human life. Time rushes by like a flash of lightning or a shooting star crossing a gap between worlds. The years gradually slip away—can they be held back? All things pass through ceaseless change and succession—how could that ever stop? Since the time of the sages, so few have understood the Great Dao. Where else can one seek its methods? The world is beset by turmoil over wealth and poverty, rank and lowliness. How should we regard it? Heaven and Earth are vast: can their source be fathomed? The Supreme Dao is mysterious: can it be heard? Why have you not answered after three questions? Are you keeping the secret, or unwilling to teach it?”

Shangyangzi looked at the disciple with delight and said, “Good questions! These doubts have indeed arisen from your own heart, and you have already come close to a matter that concerns your very life. Come, first observe the fast, and I will explain them to you one by one.” The disciple then straightened his robes and respectfully rose, saying, “I have observed the fast. I venture to ask about life and death.”

Shangyangzi said: “Nonbeing is the original source of life and is called the ‘Great One’ (Taiyi). Being is the state in which life begins to differentiate and is called the ‘Supreme Ultimate’ (Taiji). The Great One exists before the myriad things appear, containing spiritual awareness and Jing-Qi. The Supreme Ultimate emerges after the myriad things appear, congealing into an embryo and bringing life forth. Are these things transformed and generated by the Dao? Are they the source of life? Are they the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind? Are they infants, or newborn children?

“Have you never heard of the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind? A person’s hair, teeth, bones, and nails are borrowed from earth; mucus, semen, blood, and bodily fluids are borrowed from water; warmth, dryness, and heat belong to fire and wind. As for the myriad things, the sage shares one heart with Heaven and Earth and exists among them just as they do. The sage’s De is bestowed upon me, yet the sage does not keep me constantly in mind. Heaven and Earth nurture me, yet do not constantly attend to me. My parents bring me into the world, then gradually leave me to grow on my own. Giving birth to me does not mean raising me forever; possessing something does not mean owning it forever; and kindness is not always well-intentioned. Only a teacher’s instruction reaches the utmost in kindness and gives so much. If not for a teacher’s kindness, who would have refined and shaped me?”

The Sage’s De

A disciple stepped forward and asked Shangyangzi: “By good fortune, I have encountered the Great Dao and been able to draw near to it. I venture to ask about the sage’s De, so that I may be awakened from ignorance and confusion.”

Shangyangzi said: “Some sages understand the Dao from birth; some come to understand it through study; and some learn it through hardship before they understand.”

Shangyangzi says: Some sages understand the principles of the Dao from birth; others come to understand them through study; still others understand them only after enduring hardship and studying with great effort. Sages study without growing weary, and so they can grasp all kinds of principles. They understand both the patterns of nature and the principles of human affairs. Sages are not naturally capable of everything; rather, they learn widely and remember well. Nor are they born with every skill; they are adept at investigating the principles of things. They do not understand the Dao spontaneously, but attain it by seeking.

Sages can enjoy the full span of their lives and do not die before their time. Their breathing is deep, as though their Qi (vital energy) reaches their heels instead of stopping at their throats. They do not cling to a craving for life or an aversion to death. Sages are people of profound De (Virtue) and mature benevolence. They put the foundations of the Great Dao into practice, understand its true principles, and bring its work to completion.

In outward conduct, sages are dignified and righteous, yet do not show their sharpness. Thus Zhuangzi says that a sage can be cool as autumn at times and warm as spring at others. Their joy and anger shift like the seasons. They respond to people and circumstances with perfect measure, yet no one can fathom their depths. Sages can bring all kinds of undertakings throughout the world to fruition. They organize the patterns of things, clarify calendars and calculations, create written contracts, make clothing, cultivate the five grains, and open routes for boats and carts. These are all things sages have done. Governing through Wuwei (non-action), teaching without relying on words, and allowing affairs to proceed without issuing commands are also the work of sages.

When sages were in the world, the Yellow River brought forth the River Chart and the Luo River brought forth the Luo Writing. On their basis, sages drew the Yi, which reveals the Great Dao. The Yi accomplishes great affairs in the world, handles its business, and lays the foundations for its endeavors. Sages therefore value what is essential and are not led astray by particular tasks; life and death cannot unsettle them. They ride the clouds, harness the sun and moon, and roam beyond the dusty world.

Sages are mysterious and unfathomable, yet always adept at helping people and never abandon anyone. Like clothing that covers all things, they do not set themselves up as masters of all things. They do not strive to put themselves ahead of everyone in the world; instead, they allow the world’s De to turn naturally toward them. Sages do not prize rare and precious goods. They do not hoard, and so they have all the more. They came into being before Heaven and Earth, yet do not regard themselves as long-lived; they outlast antiquity, yet do not consider themselves old.

Thus Laozi says: When sages hold high positions, people do not feel burdened; when they walk ahead of others, people do not feel harmed. All under Heaven are glad to follow them and never grow weary of them. Sages nurture all things without claiming ownership of them. They act without forcing things through strength. They establish order between Heaven and Earth without showing partiality in their beneficence. They endure alongside Heaven and Earth without appearing worn by effort. They extend benevolence to all things without favoring any, and bestow kindness on all things without claiming it as their own achievement. Sages do not claim their merit and virtue as their own, cling to their life and body, or rely on their reputation to prove who they are. Precisely because they do not cling to their own existence, they are able to endure.

The disciple stepped forward again and asked, “May I ask what Heaven and Earth are?”

Shangyangzi said, “Heaven and Earth are vast and boundless; their full extent cannot be put into words. That is why Zhuang Zhou said: beyond the four directions of Heaven and Earth, the sages acknowledge that such a place exists but do not discuss it. Within the four directions of Heaven and Earth, they may speak of things but do not pass judgment on them. Besides, I am only one thing among Heaven and Earth, like a drop of water in the ocean. How could I speak of Heaven and Earth?”

The disciple said, “An ancient book says that only when there is a perfected person—a person who has attained the Dao—can there be true understanding. Please, drawing on what you have heard, tell me about a principle that is not ordinarily heard.”

Shangyangzi said, “Since you ask, I will speak of it by borrowing words, and you may listen for now. Heaven and Earth are like a vast body: this is their state before they first began. At that time, primordial Qi—the original vital energy from which Heaven, Earth, and all things take shape—gathered and swirled in darkness and chaos, deep and subtle, beyond our ability to fathom. As this Qi blended and moved, it held within it a wondrous responsiveness. This is ‘hearing’ without sound, a capacity to perceive.”

Shangyangzi said, “Since I cannot avoid speaking, I will borrow words to explain. You may listen for now. Heaven and Earth are, in truth, a single great body. Before Heaven and Earth first began, what was the beginning of that beginning? At that time, primordial Qi gathered and coiled in a dim, chaotic expanse: profound, subtle, and beyond measure, yet filled with the living force of change and movement, and containing a wondrous, numinous nature. This is called the ‘Great One.’ It is also the first beginning of Heaven and Earth, and is called the Dao; hence it is said to be ‘without beginning.’

“When Heaven and Earth began to take shape, primordial Qi started to stir. Emptiness opened and closed in transformation; Yin and Yang responded to each other, dark and light mingled, and being and nonbeing surged against one another in an undivided, chaotic state. This was full of empty numinosity, supreme and sacred, holding within it primordial Qi and spiritual nature. Through wondrous transformation, it established its foundation in a state of seeming and uncertainty. This is called ‘Great Change,’ the first beginning since Heaven and Earth came into being. It is also ‘the Dao gave birth to One,’ and is called ‘Primordial Beginning.’

“When Heaven and Earth formed the Taiji, primordial Qi began to divide. The source that governs the myriad things naturally appeared; all phenomena reflected one another and arranged themselves in order, while the myriad spirits solemnly upheld them. Thus Yin and Yang separated. This is called the ‘Taiji’: it is also ‘One gave birth to Two,’ and is called ‘Emperor of the Void.’ Once Yin and Yang had been distinguished, Heaven and Earth each settled into its place, and humankind came into being. This is ‘Two gave birth to Three,’ and is called ‘Primordial Chaos.’

“The clear, light part of Yin rose and became bright and beautiful, so the sun, moon, and stars were arrayed across the sky. Thus the celestial bodies move to the left, while the sun, moon, and stars travel around to the right. The clear, light part of Yang rose upward and met with Yang; winds and clouds surged, and thunder and rain arose. The turbid, heavy part of Yang sank to the earth, stabilizing the seas and mountains and allowing the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the grains, and plants to grow. Thus clouds rise from cliffs and caves, and Qi passes between mountains and marshes. When the Qi of Yin and Yang is blocked and cannot flow, it congeals into snow, frost, and ice. The turbid, heavy part of Yin gathers and solidifies, settling deep underground. This is why rocky caverns are dark and deep, with metals and various minerals intermingled within them.

“Between Heaven and Earth is where the vital Qi of Yin and Yang meets. Sages, immortals, Buddhas, and ordinary people all appear here; wisdom and folly, long life and short life, are all woven together here. All kinds of life continue without end, whether born from the womb, hatched from eggs, born in moisture, or brought forth through transformation. This is the Six Directions—Heaven, Earth, and the four quarters—and the realm in which the Three Qi give rise to the myriad things and all the spirits obey the Dao.

“Come here, and I will tell you: those who follow the Dao take their models from the transformations of Heaven and Earth. Above the Nine Heavens, lead and mercury—the alchemical terms for the Yin and Yang ingredients—have already been exhausted; below the Nine Earths, Yin is dense and congealed. Only between Heaven and Earth can the Dao be sought. This place is like a small Heaven and Earth. Haven’t you heard? Beyond Heaven and Earth there is a greater Heaven and Earth.

“The Buddha’s teachings include these words: ‘What is higher than Heaven? That which can give birth to Heaven. What is thicker than Earth? That which can bring forth Earth. What is wider than empty space? That which can contain empty space.’ From this we know that beyond Heaven and Earth there is a greater Heaven and Earth. Do you understand? The Heaven and Earth in which we live is merely one thing within the great Heaven and Earth; human beings are merely one kind of thing between Heaven and Earth; and the Dao, too, may be said to exist within the human body. Thus the human body is itself a small Heaven and Earth.

“Do you know how vast that great Heaven and Earth truly is? I will tell you plainly: the Dao can be vast and enduring, sustaining life without end, and it can also gather into form without dispersing. Thus it encompasses what lies beyond Heaven and Earth, yet does not consider itself great. Because it does not claim greatness for itself, it can achieve true vastness.”

The disciple stepped forward again and asked, “I have carefully remembered what you said, Master: beyond heaven and earth there are still greater heavens and earths. From this we can see that the Dao can bring forth things as vast as heaven and earth. Yet you also say that the Dao is a thing within the human body. How can their sizes differ so greatly? What exactly is this Dao, and why is it so wondrously subtle and far-reaching, with endless transformations? I venture to ask you to resolve my confusion.”

Shangyangzi said, “The Dao gives rise to heaven and earth, enables people to become immortals and Buddhas, and brings forth the myriad things. This is the Dao that precedes heaven and earth. Now that heaven and earth, people, and the myriad things exist, the Dao also moves among them. This is the Dao that continues to exist after heaven and earth have come into being. The Dao I speak of as preceding heaven and earth has boundless efficacy and effects too profound to fathom. It is a secret kept by Heaven, beyond human comprehension, and not something to be proclaimed casually. You need not presume to hear of it.”

The disciple asked, “What do you mean?”

Shangyangzi said, “The Dao is difficult to explain in words.”

The disciple said, “I wish to receive your instruction, Master.”

Shangyangzi said, “Not yet. Those of the highest capacity are eager to hear and courageous in putting what they hear into practice. Those of middling capacity try to act on what they hear, but readily grow slack. Those of the lowest capacity, when they hear it, instead become angry and slander it.”

The disciple knelt and stepped forward. “Between heaven and earth, the Dao is supremely high and vast. Can people of middling and low capacity really hear it and receive it? I know my own limits: though my abilities are dull and ordinary, I dare not treat this lightly or grow slack. I earnestly ask to hear the supreme Dao.”

Shangyangzi said, “I once explained the wonders of the supreme Dao in my commentary on the Dao De Jing.”

Shangyangzi said: “I have explained the mysteries of the Great Dao in my commentary on the Dao De Jing. I discussed the chapter ‘The Dao that can be spoken’ in some detail, and now I will teach it to you.

The so-called ‘Dao’ is Yin-Yang. Haven’t you heard? Heaven and earth have Yin-Yang; human beings have Yin-Yang; and all things have their own Yin-Yang. The sun, moon, and stars; wind, clouds, thunder, and rain; snow, frost, ice, and lightning; mountains, rivers, plants, and trees; and all living beings, whether born from the womb, hatched from eggs, born in damp places, or transformed into life—all receive Yin-Yang in their own way. In some, Yin-Yang is properly balanced; in others, it is uneven and out of balance. Heaven, earth, and human beings have received it in its proper form, which is why we say they have received the vital energy of properly ordered Yin-Yang. Sages, immortals, and Buddhas are all skilled in using Yin-Yang.

Thus it is said that one embraces Yin and bears Yang on one’s back; when Yin and Yang mingle, they form harmonious Qi. Enter Yin and manifest Yang, and life can continue and grow without end. This is what the Supreme One meant by being skilled at nurturing life. Haven’t you heard? The way heaven and earth operate is that when Yang reaches its extreme, it turns into Yin, and when Yin reaches its extreme, it turns into Yang. All things change in accordance with Yin-Yang, and so they come to an end and are born anew.

For human beings, the usual course is that when Yin reaches its end, life ends; hence the world has life and death. When Yang reaches its extreme and no longer changes, there is the Golden Elixir—the inner alchemical state sought in Daoist cultivation. The life and death of the world follow the changes that take place after heaven and earth come into being, with fullness and depletion, decline and growth. The Golden Elixir alone refers to the Dao that precedes heaven and earth; it does not follow the ordinary patterns of change governing human beings and all things. It is not obtained by following the usual course, but by reversing it. In this way one attains long life and deathlessness. This is what it means to be a sage, an immortal, or a Buddha.

Do you not know that the Dao preceding heaven and earth is the Golden Elixir? People in the world not only fail to understand that the Dao preceding heaven and earth is the Golden Elixir; even when they hear of it, they go on to mock and slander it. That is why Confucius said, ‘Those who are not sages have no way to comprehend it.’ Though heaven and earth endure for a long time, in the end they too will decay; the Golden Elixir alone stands apart and remains. The Golden Elixir does not endure forever by itself; what matters is how people use it. Because it does not rely on itself to endure, it can be preserved for a long time.”

The disciple bowed again and asked, “The Golden Elixir, you have said, is the Great Dao that existed before Heaven and Earth. I will keep your teaching firmly in mind. I know my limits poorly. Looking back on my life, I have never been so clearly aware of my own ignorance as I am now. I once tried to make a name for myself, believing no one could surpass me. I also tried to pursue learning, believing no one had gained more than I had. Whenever I read, others thought me widely learned; whenever I studied the Book of Changes, others thought I had a rough grasp of its principles. Only now do I understand how much remains beyond my reach. I am like a mouse drinking at a river: unable to measure its depth, yet presumptuously claiming to know its source. After receiving your instruction, I am bewildered and at a loss. This is not merely something I have never seen before; it is something I have never tried or even heard of. I beg you, in your compassion, to guide me and explain the way of the Golden Elixir.”

Shangyangzi said, “Among the teachings of the Great Dao, only the way of the Golden Elixir is supremely secret and essential. It must not be discussed when others are present, while sitting or standing, or amid eating and drinking. One cannot hear it without first preparing body and mind through bathing, fasting, and other forms of purification.” The disciples respectfully withdrew. On the first day they bathed; on the second, they abstained from distracting thoughts and sensual pursuits; on the third, they fasted. After completing these preparations, they came forward, bowed, and said, “By good fortune from our past lives, we have encountered a true master. We are deeply ignorant and confused, and fear sinking into the cycle of birth and death. Once human life is lost, we will be like rotten wood. We will receive your teaching with care, and venture to ask about the way of the Golden Elixir.”

Shangyangzi said, “The Dao, and especially the way of the Golden Elixir, is hardest to explain clearly and cannot be heard lightly.” Someone asked, “Why is that?” Shangyangzi replied, “Have you not heard what the Buddha said? He said, ‘If this matter is explained, beings in the heavens and people in the world will all be astonished and doubtful.’ Come, let me tell you why.

People differ in their natural capacities: some are wise, others foolish; their understanding may be clear or clouded. It is no surprise that, when this matter is explained, some are astonished and others doubtful. The reason is simply that their foundations are shallow and their understanding limited. But why would even the beings in the heavens be astonished and doubtful? We must question this carefully and discover what truly gives rise to such astonishment and doubt. Yet ordinary people rarely investigate by starting with the words “astonishment” and “doubt.” When I, Yuanduzi, wrote The Common Source of Immortals and Buddhas, I used the theme of astonishment and doubt in every chapter to remind my readers. I hope those who study the Dao will reflect on its meaning. You, too, should investigate the word “doubt” closely.

Have you heard of Gengsang Chu? He was from the state of Chen, styled himself Kangcangzi, received the Dao from Laozi, and wrote nine books. He lived on Mount Weilei. The attendants around him who seemed clever and quick-witted left him, and the concubines who appeared kind and gentle grew distant from him. He associated instead with people who seemed clumsy, and had those busy with trivial tasks take care of his affairs. When Nanrong Qu heard that he possessed the Dao, he went to him and asked to become his student.

Gengsang Chu said to Nanrong Qu, “A swift-flying bee cannot transform a leaf-eating caterpillar, and a Yue chicken cannot hatch a swan’s egg. This is because their capacities differ in scale. My own capacity is limited, and I cannot teach you. Why not go south and seek an audience with Laozi?”

Nanrong Qu was then introduced to Laozi by Gengsang Chu. Laozi asked, “Why have you brought so many people with you?” Nanrong Qu was startled. He looked back at those behind him, lowered his head, and paused for a while. Then he said, “Just now, I forgot how to answer, and forgot what I meant to ask.” Laozi asked, “What do you mean?” Nanrong Qu said, “If I know nothing, people say I am dull; if I know something, I fear it will bring trouble upon me. If I am not humane, I harm others; if I act humanely, I end up burdening myself with sorrow. If I do not uphold righteousness, people reproach me; if I uphold it, I end up burdening myself. How can I avoid these predicaments?” Laozi said, “You are so anxious and fearful, as though you had lost your parents and were carrying a pole out into the sea to search for them.” Nanrong Qu said, “I sincerely wish to hear the way of nurturing life.”

Laozi then taught him the way of the “Perfected Person”—the Daoist ideal of someone whose cultivation has reached a high level—and Nanrong Qu practiced diligently. Later, he was enfeoffed as the Perfected Person of the Cavern Spirit.

Shangyangzi added, “Have you not heard of the ‘Six Purities’? To seek the Dao, one must attain these six forms of purity before one can truly hear it. The Dao, too, is not something one can understand lightly.”

The disciple withdrew respectfully. From the first day, he kept worldly distractions from touching him, and his body became pure. On the second day, he carefully guarded his mind and shut out disturbances from outside, and his mouth became pure. On the third day, he ceased to crave every kind of beautiful appearance, and his eyes became pure. On the fourth day, he stopped clinging to sounds, and his ears became pure. On the fifth day, he learned to distinguish fragrant from foul odors, and his nose became pure. On the sixth day, he gave rise to no delusions, and his mind became pure.

On the seventh day, he burned precious incense, bowed his head to the ground, and said, “Your disciple is now pure. May I ask about the Way of the Golden Elixir?”

The master said, “You have merely purified the six consciousnesses—the six kinds of perception and mental activity associated with the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. There are also two other consciousnesses. How can you call yourself truly pure?”

The disciple asked, “What are these two consciousnesses you speak of?”

The master said, “The storehouse consciousness, which holds habits and seeds, and the transmitting consciousness, which clings to the self and conveys mental activity. These two consciousnesses are not easily recognized, much less purified. Besides, the Way of the Golden Elixir is guarded by Heaven. To hear of it, you must swear an oath to Heaven and make a blood covenant before the altar; it cannot be passed on casually. The one who hears the Way must also focus the mind single-mindedly in order to receive it.”

The disciple then chose an auspicious day, tore off a strip of silk, and wrote down his oath. He swore to Heaven, declared himself before Earth, and offered valuables as a token, doing all he could to show his sincerity. His mind was clear and his resolve unwavering; nothing could disturb him. He bowed and knelt, saying, “Your disciple does not know how to make a home for this illusory body. Time flies by, and the thought of life and death fills me with dread. I beg you, Master, to take pity on me. I have heard that the Way of the Golden Elixir can free a person from death and grant long life. My breath is nearly spent. I beg you to guide me. May I ask about the Way of the Golden Elixir?”

Shangyangzi said, “Have you never heard of Guangchengzi? He lived for twelve hundred years, and his body never grew old. This was because he grasped the One and held fast to harmony, bringing these practices to the utmost. If he had not cultivated the Way of the Golden Elixir, how could he have lived so long?

“Have you not heard Guangchengzi’s words? He said: ‘The highest Dao is still and tranquil, profound and elusive; the utmost of the Dao is dark and silent. Do not look or listen. Guard your spirit and quiet your mind, and your body will naturally become upright. You must be still and clear. Do not wear out the body or disturb your Jing and Qi; only then can you live long.’

“Have you never heard of Chaofu? Chaofu yielded Xu You to Yao to become the Son of Heaven. He himself went upstream to drink, while letting his ox drink downstream. People know only that Chaofu was noble in character; they do not know how exalted the Dao he followed was. It was precisely because the Dao was exalted that Chaofu could preserve his purity and stillness. If not, how could he have done so? Do you understand?”

The other replied, “I respectfully accept your instruction. Are these the essentials of the Golden Elixir?”

Shangyangzi said, “Not yet.”

The other asked again, “Then I venture to ask: what is the Golden Elixir?”

Shangyangzi said: “Those who truly devote themselves to cultivation have calm, clear minds and resolute, urgent purpose. As soon as they hear of the Way of the Golden Elixir—the methods of Daoist internal alchemy—they regard even the most prestigious position as worthless as dirt and feel no attachment to it. Why? Because they prize the cultivation of themselves and their life, and believe that fame and status bring only trouble and obstruction.

The Old Man of Shangshan, Zhang Zifang, and Fuyaozi were all like this. Have you not heard of Fuyaozi? After receiving the Daoist teachings from the immortal Ma Yi Xianxi, he would often sleep for a very long time. A short sleep lasted three years; a long one could not be measured in years at all, but in kalpas, vast ages of time. Among the kalpas he passed through, none was a turbid kalpa, a period of chaos and decline in the world. He once wrote a poem declining the court’s renewed favor and appointment:

‘The mountain boy has just answered: the emperor’s edict has arrived.

It speaks only of fame and gain. I’ll set it by the bed and needn’t even open it.’

This shows that, compared with one’s own person, which is closer and more worthy of cherishing: fame or oneself? Knowing when to stop keeps one from danger and allows one to endure.

A step below these are wealthy old men and sons of noble families. They have always been diligent and vigorous in their pursuits; when they hear the essentials of the Golden Elixir, they can give up what they love and take the path of cultivation. Tao Zhu Gong, Pang Jushi, and Ma Yifu were such people. Have you not heard of Ma Yifu? He was a wealthy man of Dongzhou. After the Old Immortal Chongyang (Wang Chongyang) transmitted the Supreme Dao to him, he abandoned all his property and attachments and devoted himself to cultivation. He later became Patriarch Danyang. This shows that a person’s life is more important than material possessions.

A step below these are people whose poverty leaves them without enough resources for cultivation. Resolute in purpose, they toil day and night, sometimes too busy even to sleep or eat. Yet after hearing of the Supreme Dao, they may lack the materials needed for alchemical practice, so they carefully seek an opportunity. When they meet someone prosperous and inclined to do good, they discuss matters and arrange an exchange of support. This is called using both the Dharma and material resources: one party contributes labor, the other provides funds, and neither is left indebted. Their devotion to the Dao is unwavering.

Zhang Tiantai, Deng Yuzhi, and Xue Zixian were all like this. Have you not heard of Xue Zixian? He once shaved his head and became a monk, taking the Buddhist name Xue Shi. For years he studied Buddhist teachings and true nature, but never found his ultimate destination. One day, while staying at Xinglin Post Station, the perfected one Shi Dezhi transmitted to him the essential truths of nature and life, and advised him: ‘Go quickly to a prosperous city or town, enlist the help of someone with resources, and bring your cultivation to completion.’ Xue Zixian did as he was told and eventually attained the Dao.

Have you also not heard of the immortal Deng Yuzhi? Deng Yuzhi and the perfected one Xu Lingqi traveled widely in search of teachers. One day they happened upon a realized person and received the Way of the Golden Cauldron and Fire Symbols, the essentials of alchemical method and control of the fire phase. They discussed practicing it together, but the money they had brought was enough to prepare materials for only one person. Deng Yuzhi therefore gave all of it to Xu Lingqi. Xu Lingqi was able to attain the Dao and ascend to heaven. Although Deng Yuzhi had heard the teaching, he lacked the materials and found cultivation difficult; for a time he did not succeed, but he never wavered in his resolve. Later, he moved the patriarch to compassion, and the patriarch took pity on him. One day, the officials in charge of observing the heavens reported that the Shaowei star had appeared in the celestial region corresponding to Changsha in Nanchu. Emperor Wu ordered an investigation, and Deng Yuzhi was eventually found. When the emperor asked what had happened, Deng Yuzhi replied: ‘This poor Daoist is cultivating the Way of the Golden Liquid Return Elixir, but lacks the materials for alchemical practice.’ The emperor gave him gold, silk, and serving women, and permitted him to choose a site on Mount Heng and build three palaces—the upper, middle, and lower—for cultivating internal and external alchemy. A little over two years later, he ascended to heaven from the stone altar.

These people were wholly intent on attaining the Dao, afraid above all of betraying their teachers’ instructions. People nowadays, before they have even heard the teachings of the Dao, do not know that they should seek it with urgency, or what it means to ‘follow the Dao.’ Even if circumstances bring them face to face with it, or they happen to hear of it, they are in no hurry to put it into practice and cannot persevere to the end. They care only about hearing and knowing more, arguing, and showing off their abilities. So they keep putting things off, drifting along in confusion until old age, and in the end they all meet their death. The achievements of heroes amount to no more than this; children and wealth are even less worthy of attachment. Such people are what is meant by those of low understanding.

There are others who are full of doubt and short on faith. They are ordinary people. How could they know what the Great Way of the Golden Elixir truly is? The moment they hear its name, they join in slandering and mocking it. They imagine that immortals and Buddhas are born that way, or descend from heaven, and gather together to ask: ‘What, exactly, do people in this world hope to learn when they seek to learn the way of immortals or Buddhas?’

Alas, those covered by an overturned basin find it hard to see the light. They do not know that a vinegar fly confined in a jar is at a loss once it leaves the jar. Nor do they know that a crow may roost deep in the mountains yet spread its wings and soar into the heights. Why stay trapped in one corner, clinging to it with longing? Nor do they know that fish swim freely through rivers and lakes, unrestrained, and that after leaping over Yu’s Gate, they can become dragons in three bounds. How could creatures as short-sighted as vinegar flies understand dragons? Those who mock the pursuit of immortality are the same: how could they understand the Way of the immortals?

People do not realize how urgently life depends on its conditions: earth depends on people’s teeth and hair, water on their blood, fire on their radiance, and wind on their movement and adaptability. These dependencies are already swift, yet the cycle of rebirth is faster still, and it goes on without end. Such people willingly accept that things can only be this way and never come to regret it. You must remember this.” The disciples were all shaken and awestruck when they heard him.

Shangyangzi said, “The Way of the Golden Elixir, the central method of Daoist internal alchemy, cannot be heard and received without deep wisdom, the spirit of a true hero, and profound karmic affinity. How could a perfected immortal or sage master openly teach this secret method without meeting someone diligent, resolute, and brave?”

The disciple prostrated himself and pleaded, “I beg you, Master, to extend your compassion and guide and rescue your ignorant disciple. If I can attain deathlessness in this life, it will be as though I have been placed once again in the alchemical furnace for refinement. I have already made my vow. Please teach me the Way of the Golden Elixir.” Shangyangzi said, “I do not refuse to explain it to you. But when a teaching is obtained too easily, people tend to treat it lightly. If it is heard only in passing, faith will not be firm, and this may bring trouble upon the master and the lineage. The Perfected Immortal Ziyang, moved by compassion, once transmitted the teaching to others three times and was punished three times in return. The scriptures record these events. How could we not take them as a warning?”

Weeping bitterly, the disciple said, “Our karmic affinity from past lives has brought us together. Even if only my shell remains and I am as good as dead, I am willing to live again. I would never dare to disclose the teaching carelessly or disobey your instructions, Master. If I break my vow, may I alone be put to death, and may the guilt also fall upon nine generations of my ancestors. I beg you to take pity on me and point out the Way of the Golden Elixir.”

Shangyangzi said, “Come. Your body and mind, and your ancestors as well, carry the karmic ties accumulated over many lifetimes. How could I not explain it to you? Still, understanding the principle is not difficult; putting it into practice is. You must be respectful and cautious.” The disciple bowed again and said, “I have no way to repay my Master’s kindness.”

Shangyangzi said, “The Golden Elixir is the Great Return Elixir of Golden Liquid. Gold is joined with the liquid of wood, hence it is called ‘Return’; it is formed by nurturing and refining both gold and wood, hence it is called an ‘Elixir.’

“What is ‘gold’? Here, ‘gold’ refers to lead—but not ordinary lead found in the world, nor lead mined from earth and stone. This lead is concealed at the source of creation, where things come into being, and was born before Heaven and Earth. After it comes into being, it grows day and night; it is complete only when it reaches the measure of ‘two eights to one catty.’ It exists after Heaven and Earth have come into being. Therefore, it is neither within nor without, yet it may also be said to be both within and without. This is why it is called by the two names ‘internal alchemy’ and ‘external alchemy.’

“The scriptures also say, ‘The superior medicines are three: spirit, vital energy, and essence.’ Some cultivators understand this as referring directly to things within the body: they use breathwork and refine essence to nourish spirit, taking this to be cultivation. This understanding is mistaken. The ‘essence’ spoken of here is not the seminal fluid produced through sexual union, but ‘golden essence’; the ‘vital energy’ is not the breath, but the energy possessed by lead; and the ‘spirit’ is not the mind engaged in thought, but the ‘spirit of adamantine gold.’”