《中和集》Vol. 3

To penetrate true emptiness—to move beyond clinging and discrimination and to recognize the empty, still nature of all things.

In gathering lead (the image in internal alchemy for yin essence and breath), one cannot do without the Kun Palace (the direction associated with earth and yin); in applying talisman fire (regulating the alchemical “firing” phases), one must coordinate it with the stirring of Xun wind (wind as breath and circulating qi). Go to the heart of the northern sea’s waves to seize the White Tiger (yin essence); go into the southern mountain’s fire to capture the Azure Dragon (yang essence). Let the two unite, refine them into one mass, and shatter fixation—then you can suddenly awaken to true emptiness.

Gathering lead cannot leave the Kun Palace; running talisman fire requires the stirring of Xun wind. At the core of the northern sea’s waves, seize the White Tiger; in the fire of the southern mountain, capture the Azure Dragon. When the pair joins and the Three Passes (the critical gates through which qi rises in neidan practice) converge, you can refine a cauldron full of glowing cinnabar elixir. Hide your edge, melt into ordinary life—this is called “profound unity” (xuantong: blending with the Great Dao without leaving a trace).

Again (For Deng Songxi)

Appear clumsy and dull, lazy and slow, vacant and foolish. Only in that way is it the work of tasting mystery in daily life; if you truly persist, you will secretly accord with the wondrous mechanism. Relying on study and understanding, chasing views and knowledge, or stopping at the levels of śrāvaka and complete enlightenment, only adds to the dust of the senses and the world and fills the mind with clutter. None of that helps; simply drop delusion completely, practice steadily, and you can live as long as heaven.

The Golden Immortal is not in the Western Pure Land; that blue-eyed foreigner (the legendary Bodhidharma) need not be singled out. If you ask the key to illuminating the mind and seeing nature, realize it yourself from within emptiness; if you cultivate the root of nature and life, you must begin from real practice. Let emptiness and fullness interpenetrate, being and non-being merge, form and spirit become one—and you will quickly approach the sage’s realm. The Chan ground is clear: watch clouds veil the peaks and moonlight shine on the pine stream.

Again (For Sun’an Entering Stillness)

The work of the nine transformations (the successive refinements of internal alchemy), the three yuan’s creative change (the generative transformation of heaven, earth, and humanity)—you need a hundred days to lay the foundation. Rouse spirit and set an unwavering resolve; lift the veil of delusion and cut off doubt. Raise the brow and open the heart until you can brush away all things at a stroke without clinging. In active practice it is as if you shift the handle of the Northern Dipper and reverse the pole star—such is the freedom of the work in motion.

Cultivation that reaches "Zhong" (the Middle—the state of neither leaning nor tilting) depends on wuwei (non-action). What seems to offer nothing to grasp in this "middle" actually conceals the most wondrous realm. When one arrives at the hazy, indistinct, deep and silent state, deliberately holding onto something becomes attachment, while arbitrary indulgence also leads astray. Neither forcefully guarding the thought nor forgetting it; neither tightening nor loosening. Examine carefully: this continuous, unbroken preservation—who exactly is preserving? Simply wait in this way until the six yang numbers are complete, then embrace the "chan'er" (a term in Daoist internal alchemy, often referring to the elixir pill or inner elixir).

Another (To Wang Tidian)

Wisdom like the deep clear sea, virtue like the towering mountain—the host's bearing is extraordinary. Moreover, he can grind away sharp edges and dissolve disputes, discard cleverness and talent, break down the distinction between self and things, yet without revealing cunning intent. He aspires to emptiness, immerses himself in primordial chaos, and before heaven and earth and the myriad things took form, secretly investigates the Great Dao. In the profound and mysterious depths, the venerable one's original nature and essence penetrate the "Three" (referring to the Three Powers of heaven, earth, and humanity, or the Three in Daoist cosmology).

Having once discussed the profound with those who possess the Dao, he therefore remains tranquil and silent, in accord with the way of Laozi (La Dan). Moreover, the numinous realm is spacious, the Chan realm clear and still; forgetting distinctions and knowledge, making no division between north and south. Gathering body and mind, merging oneself with creation; all between heaven and earth seems to become the quiet chamber of cultivation. When the divine elixir is complete, one may see it perfectly round and fused, its light illuminating Song'an.

Another (Encouraging Zhong'an to grasp the wondrous use of "Zhong")

"Zhong" is the core teaching of Confucianism, the root of the Dao, and the essential pivot of Chan. The house methods of the Three Teachings all take "Zhong" as the convenient path; the five constants and all conduct also take "Zhong" as foundation. In movement and rest, one must accord with the Middle Way—holding to the Middle is not easy, and one must further discern the finer reasoning within "Zhong." Its purport has already been laid bare in these verses; grasp it carefully and do not doubt.

Do you know the creative transformation within it? It is neither only in the exact center nor only in the four corners. In daily life, whether in rising and resting or in eating and drinking, the Middle Way can be applied. Thoroughly comprehending this "Zhong" enables one to understand the substance of "Zhong"; originally, nothing in the myriad things can violate this "Zhong." After truly comprehending, one must still thoroughly break open "Zhong"—only then is one a man of true resolve.

Another (To Master Jiang Yuan'an)

The human heart is often restless and precarious, while the heart of the Dao is subtle and hard to discern. Within the depths of a person lies the key to the transformations of all things. These refinements do not come from deliberate contrivance; they arise when luminous nature is unobscured, bright as the moon of wisdom. Whether one calls it Qi or Shen, the point is to guard purity and single-minded focus, flawless as polished jade, so that body and mind harmonize with Heaven and Earth. When one penetrates the profound principle, one must move the yang line within Kan (Water, yin containing yang) into Li (Fire, yang containing yin) in the south. These subtleties are not forced; clarity undimmed shines like the moon of wisdom. Called Qi or Shen alike, all depends on pure concentration and spotless integrity in union with Heaven and Earth. In penetrating the mystery, move the single line of Kan into southern Li.

The Red Dragon (symbol of yang) coils around the Turtle (symbol of yin); in the height of the sixth month, frost appears—marvel upon marvel. The white-haired elder (the cultivator) welcomes the Plain Maid (the yin partner); when the Embryonic Immortal finishes its dance, both enter the yellow canopy together. Yin and yang unite like spreading rain and drifting clouds; yang flows smoothly and yin is tuned in harmony. After a year’s work, one nurtures a single “child” (the inner crystallization of neidan practice). Keep warming and nourishing it unceasingly; when the decree comes from Yuchen (the august deity of the celestial court), one may tread auspicious clouds and return home.

Again (an exhortation to fellow disciples)

The Dao is right in the ordinary life of common people—only they do not notice it. Alas, scattered opinions and learning churn in confusion, and worldly thoughts roll in like waves, so the root of spirit cannot settle and the bright moon in the heart loses its light. Distinctions between people stand like mountains hard to cross; disputes over right and wrong spread wide as the sea. Only by lifting all of this away and letting it go can one forge a realm of subtle refinement. Fellow disciples, hear Qing’an (the author’s sobriquet) offer a simile—do not doubt it.

First take quiet clarity as your foundation and still concentration as your hall; abide there yourself. Take “the Center” as your gate, uprightness as your couch, sincerity as your path, and reverence as your fence. Be humble and gentle with others, courteous and respectful in all dealings; in eating, drinking, and daily conduct, never stray from these standards. If you practice this constantly without interruption, you can enter directly the realm of Wuwei (non-action).

Man Jiang Hong (To Xu’an)

In daily cultivation, the crux lies solely in nurturing emptiness and stillness and holding to simplicity. Understand that every path returns to the One and every thought finally merges in unity. Within the Purple Pole Palace (the inner chamber of the cultivator), original Qi is balanced and calm; in the Suspended Embryo Cauldron (a neidan image), the three flowers gather as one. Question: how does one set the furnace and establish the tripod? Answer: smelt with Qian Metal (pure yang Qi).

By subduing the Golden Crow (symbolizing yang essence) and the Jade Rabbit (symbolizing yin essence), one draws them back and seals them within the earthen cauldron (a metaphorical vessel for refining the inner elixir). When applying the fire phases and regulating increase and decrease, one must guard and support with still greater care. When the supreme treasure is fully refined, its radiance appears—it can go out and come in; the Dharma body (the body-mind realm attained through cultivation) shows form yet has no coming or going. Then one hides the physical form and goes straight to pay homage at the Palace of Great Clarity (the tranquil immortal realm spoken of in Daoism), where spirit abides without shifting.

Another poem, in praise of Yin Guanxia of the Who Hermitage:

Who is master of the hermitage? Who holds it up and keeps it going? When hungry one eats—who tastes the sweet and bitter within? Who can truly hear the five tones (jue, zhi, gong, shang, yu)? Who sees green, yellow, black, and white? In daily life and in dealing with others—who is really in charge?

Who walks and lifts the hand? Who is silent and who speaks? Who hears these sounds? Who sees these colors? In daily life and in dealing with others—who is really in charge?

See these questions through, and you will know who is host and who is guest. Who fashioned the outer form? Who passes in and out through the inner gate? Attain the realm of Wuwei (non-action)—in the end, in whose hermitage do you dwell? The answer: the Mansion of Vermillion Hill (the immortal abode spoken of in Daoism).

Another poem, conferred upon the Awakening Hermitage:

The root of the Dao is natural spontaneity; once one deliberately acts, errors arise everywhere. If one only talks of emptiness, where does one begin? Clinging both to being and to emptiness, unable to release either side, one never awakens; trying to hold both sides at once, one is still bound. Better to silently guard the middle way and let spirit rest at ease.

What is past—forget it; what is to come—do not pore over it in detail. The work one is doing right now—do not cling to it either. When the six desires do not arise and the three poisons (greed, hatred, delusion) are extinguished, yang qi revives and yin qi recedes. Awakening to true emptiness, embracing the root, and returning to primordial stillness—this is true awakening.

Another poem, presented to Magistrate Ding, explaining that the three teachings share one principle:

The orthodox transmissions of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism follow paths that were originally one and direct. Laozi’s key lies in reaching the utmost through stillness and emptiness; Buddhism holds that nature is realized from empty stillness; Confucius enters the Way from sincerity within the heart. When the three teachings were first established they branched into three, yet the root is one.

The mysterious gate of the Dao (the key portal for realizing the Great Dao in cultivation) can appear in meeting the ten thousand affairs; the subtle depths of the Yi (Changes) must be quietly apprehended. The essential point of Chan is true emptiness and utmost stillness. Guard it without interruption moment by moment, and you can draw on it throughout a whole lifetime. In the end, though the teachings divide into three branches, the root remains one.

The Xuanguan (mysterious pass—in internal refinement, the pivot where one discerns mind-nature and connects with the ten thousand things) is deep and subtle, yet it can respond to all things at every moment. The principle within is hard to fathom; it must be grasped in silent inward attunement. The profound aim of Chan is vacuity and ultimate stillness. If one cultivates moment by moment without break or slackening, the benefit lasts through life after life. Thus one may return to the root and restore life (gui gen fu ming—reverting to the source of life), know the primordial emptiness and stillness, and keep the deepest, most hidden truth in the heart.

Again (For the Sleep-Loving Daoist Judge Li)

Those who love sleep have their own method; within it lies another “sleep samadhi” (shuimian sanmei—maintaining focused cultivation and a stable meditative state even in sleep). While asleep the mind stays sincere; in sleep one can still clarify spirit and mind. Whoever understands the way of sleep knows when to stop and when to advance, and can nourish qi and spirit in sleep. Such skill—using sleep to settle the spirit and enter stillness—is known to few.

The body may sleep, but mind-nature does not grow dim; the eyes may close, yet inner awareness does not shut off. Right in deep sleep, one is secure and quiet. A cool breeze at the pillow pierces to the bone, as if in dreams one leaves the dusty world and wanders freely. On waking, it is as if one were in the Broad Cold Palace (the moon palace), embracing the toad as one sleeps.

Again (In Praise of Layman Fu of the Round Hermitage)

This circle (symbolizing original nature or the source)—since countless kalpas it has had no fixed form. Upright and steady, it stands unmoved; fine as dust, no trace can be found; vast as heaven and earth, it cannot be contained. It penetrates heaven and earth, moves freely in every direction, without obstruction.

It has no root and no shape; its light shines, round and bright. This is the face as it originally is. Released, it straightway transcends the formless realm (wuse jie—the Buddhist sphere beyond form and color); gathered in, it hides in the treasury of light (guangming zang—the realm where radiance gathers). When the crown gate opens and perfect penetration appears, a golden body-form is revealed.

Again (For Director Zhang of the Rest Hermitage)

Only centered harmony is the secret of cultivating immortality. The slightest deviation gives rise to endless differences. Try to keep steadiness in action, and naturally in stillness one thoroughly penetrates the mechanism. Understand the Three Origins and Five Qi (sanyuan wuqi—primordial qi and the breath-currents in internal refinement), return them to the Huangting (the important locus in the body for internal work), and one can form the golden flower (jinhua—the sign of successful practice).

Moving the fire phases (huohou—steps of breath-regulation in practice) each has its timing; the sea tide rises, and the moon in the sky waxes and wanes. Ascent and descent, fullness and waning in turn. After ten months of unbroken practice, a speck of numinous true nature can transcend birth and change. Ask again what lies beyond that—words cannot say.

Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism each have their own paths, yet when cultivation reaches the highest level, at root they originally converge. The method of “the One” is profound and hard to fathom. Laozi speaks of the Valley Spirit that never dies; Confucius illuminates the mind through the Book of Changes, and at first he had not yet drawn the hexagrams. Ask the Buddha: what is the heart of nirvana transmitted beyond the formal teachings? This mind-dharma is deep—deep—deep.

To practice the way of immortals, one must settle the breath; to study the sages, one must set aside clever intellect. As for the key to becoming a Buddha, one can rely only on the power of wisdom. When the learning of all three houses—Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist—is thoroughly investigated and understood, the work of rounded, clear awakening is complete. When the crown gate suddenly opens and one sees Thusness—the true, unchanging nature of all things—brilliant light appears in full splendor.

Again (For Zong the Daoist of Weian Hermitage)

In practicing “observing return”—watching how all things cycle and revert to the source—one must keep silent vigil and hold the mind single-pointedly. When stillness reaches the extreme, a single inner stirring can penetrate the mysterious gate of generation (xuanpin). In trance-like dimness, feeling and nature unite; in the empty valley, wondrous yin-yang qi interpenetrate. I now lay bare for you the upward essentials passed down by the patriarchs.

The body that can speak does not depend on the mouth; the body that can grasp all things does not depend on the hands. That footless child can turn somersaults. If you grasp what is marvelous here, you will naturally see through “existence within non-being.” Ask what true meaning the patriarch who came from the West (Bodhidharma) actually transmitted? It is like someone pinching your nose and giving a twist—meaning to point you directly, beyond what words can say.

Again (For Mi’an)

Whence does a single grain of Golden Elixir come? Through how many kalpas was it formed—and who knows? If you do not recognize its root source, how can you see “being” from “non-being”? Ask what exact intent the patriarch from the West transmitted? It is like pinching the nose and twisting—meant to make you realize on the spot.

Again (For Mi’an)

Whence does a single grain of Golden Elixir come, through how many kalpas was it formed—and who knows? If you do not recognize its root source, how can you harmonize yin and yang and bring them into balance? Moreover, this is originally what you already possess; why cling to outer forms and recklessly deploy all sorts of methods? I point this out clearly for those who study immortality: the celestial secret is now disclosed.

Soft as cotton, hard as iron, sharp as metal, yet round as the bright moon—yet it is neither square nor round, without loss and without lack. When released, it seems to burst open the gate of heaven and earth; when gathered, it hides within emptiness. Ask what it is like when it is neither gathered nor released? That truly cannot be stated clearly.

“Three-Five True Mechanism” is the root principle of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (the basic Daoist framework for explaining change in heaven and earth); wherever it is applied, it manifests there. Ordinary daily affairs are no exception—only people often elevate it beyond reach and find it hard to grasp. If one can forget the split between being and non-being, one can penetrate samadhi (deep concentration and union of mind and spirit) from a realm that seems both there and not there. Why does cultivation so often yield little and fall short of completion? Because the mind clings to outer things and will not release its grip.

The lead of the “water region” has but one flavor—that is pre-heaven Qi (the primordial Qi from the beginning of heaven and earth). Understand the union of the toad and the golden crow (the moon’s toad and the sun’s crow as images of Yin-Yang joining), and body and mind will respond in harmony. The “four” of the west returns and enters the north; the “three” of the east turns to meet the south; gather the five essences in the furnace and cauldron (symbolic vessels of alchemy), and the inner elixir is refined to completion.

This is pre-heaven Qi. Understand the union of toad and golden crow, and body and mind respond in harmony. The “four” of the west returns to the north; the “three” of the east turns toward the south; gather the five essences in the furnace and cauldron, and the inner elixir is perfected.

Another poem (for Lay Buddhist Sun)

This bit of empty spirit (the empty, luminous original nature) has never been diminished or lacking since ancient times. Bright, round, and clear through and through, it illuminates the root principle before heaven and earth were opened, and the depths of the toad palace within the moon. One should nurture in the hermitage a “white toad” (an image of the inner elixir) until it is white as snow.

Its subtlety cannot be put into words; sharp as gold, yet round as the moon. It ceaselessly transforms and generates the ten thousand things, never stopping. When the hexagram Meng (darkness over water—obscurity at first dawn) appears, heavenly dew (the Qi that generates life) descends; when the hexagram Fu (earth over thunder—Yang returning) appears, mysterious frost (condensed essence) forms. Riding the blue luan (legendary sacred bird) straight to the Broad Cold Palace (the moon palace), one can transcend the wheel of birth and death.

Another poem (for He’an)

In silence there is also speech; where there is speech, silence was always present. To know that speech and silence interpenetrate is the secret of the golden elixir (the key to inner alchemy). Silent inward recognition and tacit penetration are the essentials; śrāvaka and complete enlightenment (Buddhist stages of practice) are only outward names. If one can recognize the root of silence within speech, one realizes what is neither born nor destroyed.

The ability to speak does not depend on the tongue; silence and speech are originally not different. Silence is so—and speech is even more apt. If one grasps the meaning in not speaking, one finds that even while speaking, one can penetrate completely. Break through the distinction between silence and speech entirely, and the hidden workings of heaven reveal themselves.

Another poem (for Daoist Ge of Jing’an Hermitage)

The Dao was never something that needed to be spoken; the student must grasp it in silent inward understanding. When you can set aside every stray thought, the mind becomes empty, bright, and still. While body and mind are active, harmonize Water and Fire; in settled sitting, penetrate deeply the meaning of paramita—arriving at ultimate wisdom. As for the xuanguan, the pivotal pass where body and mind transform in internal alchemy—where is it? You must seek it in the space between body and mind.

It is neither mind nor thing; neither immortal nor Buddha. Few can truly grasp these truths. The deluded exhaust themselves in vain; those who awaken need hardly force their effort. Watch how being arises from non-being, how the spirit embryo is nurtured, until at last the Yang Spirit (pure yang spiritual form in cultivation) departs the body.

Again (Instructions to disciples)

In my teaching, the xuanguan is never lightly exposed so outsiders may peek in. When someone comes to study, guard against their wish only to steal the secret key. When severity is called for, raise the blade that slays; when guidance can save, apply a light touch. If one merely vaunts oneself and parades spiritual powers, who can surpass that?

If someone is a true good friend of the Way—one who rightly understands and can guide practice—they should shoulder the work of cultivation and no longer waver in confusion. Hold a resolute, fearless will: meeting Buddha, do not cling to Buddha; meeting the Dao, do not cling to the Dao. With a single step one may stride beyond sages and worthies; with a single word one may swallow heaven and earth. Only when one can wholly overturn heaven and earth, the cosmos in its vastness, has one become truly extraordinary.

Again (Instructions for disciples to recite together)

Returning from gathering the medicine, the alchemical vessel is as if cast from Qian Metal (metal symbolizing pure yang qi). Every principle in practice rests entirely in the cultivator’s own hands. First sweep away the distractions stirred by contact with the six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind), and no longer be stained by familiar habits of the past. As for how to work the practice and “add fire” (steps of circulating qi in neidan), one must shatter old understanding completely—only then is it truly extraordinary.

Again (Instructions for disciples to recite together)

Returning from gathering the medicine, the alchemical vessel is as if cast from Qian Metal. Every principle in practice rests entirely in the cultivator’s own hands. First sweep away the distractions stirred by the six roots, and no longer be stained by familiar habits of the past. As for how to work the practice and add fire, rely on prajna (wisdom that sees truth as it is).

The Five-Thunder Chariot, the Green Dragon’s haul, and the “burn-the-mountain” talisman are all figures of mind-intent: driving cultivation by mind-method, as if steering the thunder chariot, leading the green dragon, or deploying talismanic power. You must also wash away discursive thought and purify the inner heart, letting a clear spring moisten body and mind. When the nine revolutions (the repeated refining and nurturing of neidan) are complete, the elixir path is fulfilled and pure spirit returns to emptiness. Then the Dharmakaya—the “king-of-Dharma” body, the realm of unobstructed freedom—stands naked and without grasping; nothing need be held at all.

Man Ting Fang (To Jiao the Libationer)

In the stillness of mountain retreat or the bustle of the market town, the Mysterious Pass—the pivotal gateway in practice to the subtle realm—is everywhere. Worthy adepts should investigate it carefully in deep meditation (ru ding). I will gradually explain the secret of life and death in cultivation; if you grasp it, hold it in this very moment—transcendence is not hard.

I will state the key plainly: at first, begin by practicing the “three threes” (san san—the staged regimen of refinement). Kindle fire from the Mysterious Palace (xuan gong—the locus named in inner work), then carry it into Kunlun (here, the internal site named in alchemy). When gathering, cloud-vapor seems to lie across the valley mouth; when releasing, it is like the bright moon dropping into a cold pool. When the work is complete, the great elixir (da dan) takes form like a toad, and one’s name is entered on the rolls of the immortals.

Another piece, a transmission for Ding’an.

Studying Buddhism, studying immortality, practicing Chan, or probing doctrine—all depend on the Xuann (xuan pin—the mysterious root of generation and transformation). Sadly, many lose their way and misidentify, often misleading one another. Chasing branches and leaves, they wear out cushion after cushion in vain. Pitifully, they always seek outward; even Old Qudan (Shakyamuni) would laugh at them.

That single point of true creation—if you see it yourself, your heart will chill with awe. The adept Ding’an should investigate well in meditation. See through the face you were born with, and overturn every opinion you learned before. After reaching true emptiness (zhen kong), the skull bursts open, and the true master naturally appears from within the hermitage.

“Shuidiao Getou” (To He’an Wang Capan)

The earthen crucible (tu fu—the vessel standing for body and furnace in neidan) must be square and true; in samadhi, inquire of the Yellow Duke (huang gong—the inner guide or pivot in firing). Wu-Earth returns to Ji-Earth; one must wait for the Meng hexagram’s image—“a spring issuing at the foot of the mountain” (the sign of when to begin gathering). In gathering the “medicine,” guard against missing the moment; in “firing,” do not go too far—the art lies in the mean. Hold the central way without swerving, and the principle of Heaven will respond and penetrate.

The subtlety within truly cannot be exhausted. Since understanding it, each day in the hermitage is like spring breeze. Then match the Western Maiden with the South Ridge Child (neidan symbols of yin–yang and the Five Phases in union) so that, once they meet, they long endure in harmony. After ten months, the holy embryo (sheng tai—the matured inner elixir body) is complete; one sheds the old form and dissolves into emptiness.

Lead and mercury were never fixed substances to begin with; the elixir furnace and the alchemical fire are only borrowed names for cultivation. One then joins the Western Maiden with the Nanchi Red Child as husband and wife; they merge and remain in harmony forever. After ten months of gestation, the Holy Embryo—the state in inner alchemy when the inner elixir is fully mature—is complete; shedding the bodily form, its radiance fills the empty sky.

Again (For Zhou Qiuchan)

Lead and mercury have no substantial form; the furnace and cauldron are likewise names used in passing. At first people are confused by the distinction between movement and stillness, and before they know it they fall into the realm of the sravaka—Buddhist practitioners who rely chiefly on hearing the teaching and seeking liberation. This wondrous principle of the pre-heaven state lies right in the daily acts of dressing and eating; face to face, it is perfectly clear. When responding to things and following opportunities, though you do not deliberately stir thought or seek resonance, clarity comes of itself.

It is not mind, not Buddha, and certainly not metal. Use discerning vision to see it clearly—do not mistake it for the calibration star on a balance pan. Layer by layer the mist clears; the limpid realm of Chan stands alone revealed—this is the original true nature. The wind stops and the waves subside; the moon is full and the water is clear.

Again (For Baochanzi)

The secret of studying Buddhism and cultivating immortality lies in inner sincerity. True lead and true mercury, in the end, are nothing other than human nature and feeling. Once feeling returns to nature, it is like lead meeting mercury—the two naturally blend. Practice runs through daily life without interruption, and the great medicine (the fruit of inner-alchemy cultivation) forms of itself.

You must know when to draw out and when to add, understand the timing of advance and retreat, and keep fullness without overflowing. The Kun furnace and Qian cauldron (the yin and yang foundations and vessels of practice), together with the yin talisman and yang fire (the inner-alchemy language for regulating the “fire times”), must all be adjusted gradually. Once the mystic pass of practice is opened, the crown of the head seems to split into eight petals; the treasure toad (symbol of the inner elixir or its fruition) appears, and the great medicine is naturally complete.

You must know when to draw out and when to add, understand the timing of advance and retreat, and keep fullness without overflowing. The Kun furnace and Qian cauldron, together with the yin talisman and yang fire, must all be adjusted gradually. Once the mystic pass is opened, the crown seems to split into eight petals and the treasure toad appears. When practice and merit are both complete, you may visit the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) in leisurely conversation.

Again (For Layman Liu)

The body dwells in the world, yet the mind is not stained by the world; you live amid dust yet are not defiled by it. Keep to the mean in conduct—whether you cultivate in a bustling market or a quiet mountain grove makes no difference. Act without bias; in daily life do not contend or cling—this is Complete Perfection (Quanzhen). The heart must not be dim; achieve that, and you are a practitioner of the supreme vehicle.

Again (For Zhang Meng’an)

Gather and refine original essence (Jing), original Qi, and restore original spirit (Shen). When the three treasures unite as one, the great elixir naturally coalesces within the elixir furnace. Then stir the subtle wind of the mystery; the wandering clouds beyond heaven disperse, and the moon of wisdom shines clear and bright. Hear me disclose the first principle—the fundamental truth: on the river, several peaks stand green as painted.

Note: The middle stanza of “For Baochanzi” repeats almost verbatim in the source; the translation preserves that repetition as in the original.

Thunder hidden beneath the earth corresponds to the hexagram Fu (Return); spring water gushing from beneath the mountain corresponds to Meng (Youthful Folly). When you understand these two patterns, you can feel how natural creation aligns with the subtle Way. By finely settling the mind-spirit in emptiness and holding to clarity and stillness, you can experience the subtle presence that emerges from nothingness, until all nine orifices of the body are open and clear. Receive and affirm this in the present moment—this is your true master.

Do not cling to “nothing,” do not cling to “something,” and do not cling to “emptiness” either. When you thoroughly penetrate the knot of doubt in your heart, at that moment you can ascend straight to the wondrous peak. Set aside the chaotic outer world; gather in a clear, lively mind-spirit so that body and mind are unobstructed. Receive and affirm this in the present moment—this is your true master.

Do not cling to “nothing,” “something,” or “emptiness.” When you thoroughly penetrate the knot of doubt in your heart, at that moment you can ascend straight to the wondrous peak. Set aside the chaotic outer world; gather in a clear, lively mind-spirit so that the transformations of life are inexhaustible. In the end, what principle is this? It is like the sun rising over the eastern ridge.

Again (For Bao’an)

Dao is the root of ritual techniques; techniques are the outward application of Dao. When Dao and method are complete together, however you apply them, you remain master of yourself. Yuanshen (original spirit) and yuanqi (original vital energy) are the celestial soldiers and generals; apart from these, there is nothing else. I say this to Dongchanzi: work in cultivation within samadhi (ding).

Guardianship is the foundation; application is the key; fulu (talismans and registers) are only auxiliary supports. Once you understand this, why be bound to ink and cinnabar in drawing? If you can make Jing (essence) and Qi coalesce and stand firm, you can command thunder and lightning and subdue demons. On the day when practice is complete and achievement fulfilled, you may go with a smile to pay homage at the immortal capital.

Again (Instruction to the assembly: no distinction between us)

Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism differ in name, but their principle is not different. To investigate Chan and exhaust principle, the key is to hold to the root and return to the beginning. When you grasp the creative principle of “the one,” you can gather the sanyuan (the three fundamentals—Jing, Qi, and Shen in cultivation discourse) and broadly dispel long-standing illness. Only after the foundation of body and mind is firm can you raise the elixir furnace and begin neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

When the returned elixir is refined and the complete state like Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) is preserved, you obtain the xuanzhu (mysterious pearl—the essence condensed in practice). This is what matters: take what is in Kan and supplement what is lacking in Li—yin-yang harmonized in neidan terms. If you can be without craving, at once leave attachment to sound and form behind, and let Shen (spirit) and Qi together return to emptiness and stillness. After penetrating the manifold forms of the ten thousand things, the chizi (infant—symbol of original innocence) appears from the spirit chamber.

Again (For Bai Langu)

The sanyuan lie hidden deep as autumn water; you obtain the xuanzhu. This is what matters: take what is in Kan and supplement what is lacking in Li. If you can be without craving, at once leave attachment to sound and form behind, and let Shen and Qi together return to emptiness and stillness. After penetrating the manifold forms of the ten thousand things, the chizi appears from the spirit chamber.

In an instant, the qi of Heaven and Earth interpenetrate; between jia and geng (terms for the meeting of Metal qi) there is no gap, and the dragon and tiger (symbols of Yin and Yang within the body) are subdued together. Taking from Kan to fill Li (using the true Yang of the Kan trigram to nourish Li, harmonizing Yin and Yang), the original form of the Qian hexagram is realized; the yang fire and yin talisman (the fire-timing rules of advancing yang fire and retreating yin talisman in Neidan) have run their course. The supreme treasure congeals firm; the true toad (a symbol of the formed inner elixir) shows its sign—now it is fitting to moisten it with the spirit spring (a cultivation term for the inner fluid that nourishes the elixir). When De is complete and gong is united, jia and geng have no gap, dragon and tiger are subdued together; taking from Kan to fill Li, the Qian body is achieved, yang fire and yin talisman finish their course; the supreme treasure congeals firm, the true toad shows its sign, and the spirit spring is fit for nourishment. When virtue is full and achievement complete, the master’s name is entered in the immortal register (the roster of immortals).

Again (on the order of nature and life at Zhong’an)

The single aperture of the Mysterious Pass (the key gate in Neidan where nature and life meet) holds a principle so deep and subtle it cannot be put into words. At the first stirring when yin reaches its limit and yang just begins to rise, that is the moment to gather lead (to gather and refine true Yang). It is like thunder underground and water descending from the peak, the red dust of the world turning into white snow. In practice, rein in the heart-monkey and idea-horse (the restless mind)—do not let them run wild.

In a turn, the tiger roars and the dragon sings; husband and wife unite, and in the cauldron the cinnabar head forms. Even if there is already a body outside the body (the yang spirit or subtle body spoken of in practice), the work is not yet done; only when round enlightenment is reached can one penetrate through completely. Lush yellow flowers, green bamboo standing tall—the principle here was hard to disclose. A hint for you now: like trying to scoop the moon from the water, you cannot grasp a solid image.

Again (For Director Chen)

Seeking truth and cherishing the Dao, taking purity, stillness, and non-action as joy, letting oneself rest at ease. Wealth, honor, and glory hold no attachment; one willingly keeps poverty, even to the bone of hardship. Fame and profit are set aside, right and wrong are not weighed—one simply hides oneself away. True leisure, true quiet—who knows that realm and its message?

Again, the deeper keys of practice: the mysterious pearl (symbol of the inner elixir) is hard to describe; the fire-timing of practice has no fixed hour. If one fully opens the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass, enlightenment comes at once, beyond distinctions of “mind” and “Buddha.” Feelings and thoughts are released together; being and non-being merge and communicate; the inner elixir’s embryonic breathing is complete, and the primordial spirit (Yuanshen) can appear. The eye of the heart is free and truly still—who knows that realm and its message?

Again, the deeper keys of practice: the mysterious pearl is hard to describe; the fire-timing of practice has no fixed hour. If one fully opens the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass, enlightenment comes at once, beyond distinctions of “mind” and “Buddha.” Feelings and thoughts are released together; being and non-being merge and communicate; the inner elixir’s embryotic breathing is complete, and the primordial spirit appears. Open the eyes, and light fills the boundless expanse.

Again (For Scholar Hu)

[The text repeats the “For Director Chen” and “deeper keys” passages above in the source; if your edition continues with distinct lines for Hu Xiucai, supply them and they can be translated in the same style.]

Since antiquity, that one point of luminous spirit has remained clear and bright, ever the same. It has no shape and no substance; it is not swayed by external things, and it constantly abides in an upright, settled state—without trace, beyond seeking. Its transformations have no fixed pattern, and there is no gap between the hidden and the manifest; this subtle principle is truly hard to fathom. To speak of it plainly, one must set aside every tie, every anxious thought, and every worldly habit of knowing.

Only when the heart is empty, clear, and still, and calm and steady, can one see the true root. When three and five merge into one, the heart is like the bright moon, and one beholds the original root of life. Radiance is full, pure, and constant, neither shaken nor stilled, yet it turns and changes without pause. In stillness one brings it forth, as moonlight reveals the undivided origin of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate).

Again (on Master Zhang the “Old Toad” taking up the work)

The main points of Golden Elixir (Jindan) practice are not hard to grasp; the crux is to begin when yang qi stirs. In daily life one must guard oneself carefully—even in solitude one must not indulge; do not let the “dragon” and “tiger” (metaphors in Neidan for the interplay of yin and yang within the body) run unchecked. Keep the heart at ease, the body upright and settled, and hold the intention steadily. From beginning to end, never slacken; then one naturally penetrates Xuannu—the root of generation and transformation, and the pivotal gate of inner work.

In practice, subtle points are easy to miss; I therefore point them out directly, like thunder suddenly rolling under the earth that startles one awake. “Setting the cauldron and furnace” (the foundation and conditions for refining body and mind) is no small matter; turning and regulating the work must follow the seasons marked by the Dipper’s handle. Human nature is originally complete and luminous, and the root of life can be firm and stable—thus one can taste the truth that “within nothing there is something.” When the old toad in the moon (a title for Master Zhang) has accomplished the work, the moon’s toad appears, and one may share the longevity of Heaven and Earth.

Again (for Tong’an)

That one point of spirit in the age of Taichu (before Heaven and Earth were divided) was originally pure and unmixed. A hair’s breadth of clinging throws one a thousand leagues off; once awakened, understanding comes in an instant. When the heart is empty and clear, not even the finest dust-thought remains—why insist on manipulating geng and jia (terms from Daoist calendrics for stems, branches, and timing)? If you can take up and bear this principle, you will trust it before your eyes: the Dao was never bound to fixed, outward techniques.

The bright secret within is hard to put into words and has no fixed name; what matters is direct insight. Take it up and receive it—the place that is truly seamless, where not even a needle can enter. If you are caught in the opposition of self and other, or sunk in disputes of right and wrong, you must all the more understand the turning of life and death. Cultivate that nature without form or image, forget the bodily frame, and the realm of spirit opens.

Again (instruction to the assembly, to dispel confusion)

The shortcut to transcendence lies in Xuanguan—the critical pass in Neidan that opens to the root of nature and life; this gate connects in every direction. When teaching practitioners, one must first have them understand the turning of life and death; cultivate the formless nature, forget the bodily frame, and the realm of spirit opens.

The shortcut to becoming an immortal lies in penetrating the Xuan Gate—the pivotal portal in inner alchemy (Neidan) where one grasps the Great Dao and the body–mind transform. It is a pass that opens in every direction. I tell those who study the Way: first set your resolve firm; once you awaken, the time required is no more than an instant. How lamentable that lost cultivators refuse a clear teacher and cling instead to side paths. They haul and shift qi back and forth, only to end in empty exertion.

Who would have thought that the Great Dao is open, direct, and level—yet still needs a master’s awakening touch? Once you understand, action becomes natural, with no trace of forced contrivance; the Xuan Pin—the root gate from which the myriad things arise—opens and closes of itself. When not a single thought arises, the Valley Spirit does not perish; when the nine revolutions are complete, you shed the mortal frame and return home, roaming at will in the Great Overarching Heaven.

Xijiang Yue (To Master Pan)

True soil, true lead, and true mercury, together with the original spirit, original qi, and original essence—the three origins unite in one, and the elixir is complete. This is the supreme reach of Complete Perfection (Quanzhen) cultivation.

Whether in movement or stillness, keep lucid awareness without dimming; after accomplishment, the real realm is full and clear. Body and spirit both reach subtle perfection; you enjoy the bliss of non-birth and enter straightaway the supreme abode of the Void Sovereign.

Xijiang Yue (To a Good Friend)

The highest Dao was never meant to be captured in words; it all depends on an unshakeable resolve. Keep clarity in the heart and never forget to probe the root, like a single bright moon reflected in a thousand pools.

Once you grasp what is as elusive as catching wind or shadow, you know one can plant a lotus in fire. Let the seas turn to mulberry fields—the one true nature alone never changes.

Xijiang Yue (To Zhou Shouzheng)

See through the absence of self and of a fixed “person”—why still chase Buddha or immortal? At any time, in any place, you can settle calmly in absorption, untouched by illusory dust.

Why pick a mountain retreat or wild solitude? At the busy market gate one may practice just the same. Hold the center, stabilize the three dantians, cultivate long and steadily, and the spirit pearl—the inner elixir made manifest—will appear.

Lian Dansha (On the Xuan Pin, for the Assembly)

The mystery of the Xuan Pin is understood by few; I explain it for you all. Do not say it lies in south, north, east, or west; it is not above or below, not in the four directions, and not in the exact center.

The opening and closing of the Xuan Pin holds inexhaustible subtle function—it is the root of heaven, earth, and the ten thousand things. Endless begetting and transforming, wondrous efficacy ever at work; in motion and stillness its pivot never stops, broadly receiving and embracing all things.

The highest Dao cannot truly be transmitted through words; what matters is inner resolve. From beginning to end one must set one's intention and not stray from the path. If one can remain steadfast through nine years or three years of practice, one may attain the immortal way.

True breath (natural, deep, unbroken respiration) will flow on its own without ceasing, and the inner foundation (the root of inner cultivation or the state of mind) will be steady and settled. Eat when hungry, sleep when tired; wear light clothes in summer and cover with quilts in winter. The subtle Way is not apart from this everyday life, and there is no other mystery to seek beyond it.

“Hidden language” (yinyu) refers to cultivation principles expressed in indirect, allusive terms. “Sayings beyond the usual teaching” (jiaowai mingyan) means formulations that go beyond ordinary doctrinal wording. What follows quotes: “The Buddhist scriptures say: ‘If someone wishes to understand…’”

The Buddhist scriptures say: “If someone wishes to understand all Buddhas of past, present, and future, they should observe the nature of the dharmadhatu: everything in the world arises from the mind.” This means that where there is fabrication there is change, and fabrication and change both come from the mind.

People commonly say that what creates the myriad things is the power of creation-and-transformation (zaohua); I do not agree. Creation-and-transformation itself has no separate “creator”; the ten thousand things generate and change on their own. Why? Each thing has its own mind-nature; once there is mind-nature, arising and change occur—is that not the ten thousand things creating and transforming themselves?

All formed things in the world originally have no fixed shape. From nothing they come into being—this is called “creating” (zao); once arisen they eventually perish, and after perishing they return to nothing—this is called “transforming” (hua). The ten thousand things continually arising and changing is their constant condition.

Yet true nature has always been present; though present, it has no concrete image, so it is not subject to fabrication and does not undergo change—this is the constant state of the Dao. People only know that no creating and no transforming means there is no zaohua, but they do not know that within this there is still a deeper zaohua. Unless one is thoroughly enlightened, who can grasp it?

One who is thoroughly enlightened has wisdom that flows without obstruction, sees that all affairs are empty, and lets the mind return to stillness, standing apart and independent—thus no longer pulled by zaohua. If one cannot understand this, the mind clings to the body, to thoughts, and to worldly things, and is further bound by feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness; then one follows worldly change and follows the birth and death of the body.

What the eye sees is called form (se); the mind’s taking it in is called feeling (shou); after taking it in, forming a thought in the mind is called perception (xiang); as the thought continues and drives action, that is called volition (xing). Actions may be good or evil, and each produces its corresponding retribution; what accumulates is called “karmic consciousness” (yeshi—the activity of consciousness shaped by karma). When karmic consciousness is chaotic, that is the root of samsara, so a person cannot escape the turning of zaohua.

If one is not bound by illusory conditions, not stained by outer states, not obscured by deluded emotions, and not tormented by craving and desire, one can see that “the five aggregates are all empty”—form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness have no independent, unchanging self-nature. When the five aggregates are empty, whence could zaohua come? This is what is called the “wondrous mind of nirvana” (the fundamental mind-nature of still liberation). Seen this way, what doubt can there be in saying “zaohua comes from the mind”?

The Daode Jing says: “Being and non-being give rise to each other.” That is, non-being gives rise to being—this is called “creating”; being returns to non-being—this is called “transforming.” It also says: “Reach the utmost of emptiness and stillness; hold fast to quietude; the ten thousand things all arise together, and I thereby observe how they return.” This means that by observing how the ten thousand things return, one comes to know change. Once one knows change, one is no longer altered by change; if one is no longer altered by change, how could there be “creating”? Unless one is thoroughly penetrating and unobstructed in mind, who could achieve this?

The person of thorough understanding has a mind that is clear and bright within, and therefore can see through the self, body and mind, and affairs of the world: they understand that things with form all arise from what is illusory; once they become things, when development reaches its limit they return to where they came from. To understand change is not to be ruled by change; not to be ruled by change—how then could there be creating and transforming? The person of thorough understanding is clear and bright within and can see through body, mind, and worldly affairs, understanding that formed things arise from the illusory and, when development reaches its limit, return—ultimately reverting to the illusory.

Viewed in this way, one understands: the image that has no image is the true image. Nourish the formless image and it endures; guard the formless body and true nature stays whole. Reaching purity and fullness, one merges with the vast Dao; entering a deep, blended realm beyond compare, one goes beyond even emptiness—this is called “not being ruled by creating and transforming.”

Those who cling to outer things find body and mind unsettled; all sorts of thoughts disturb one another, so they lose the formless image and scatter the formless body, and thus drift in birth and death, long sunk in the sea of suffering. If one can gather in body and mind, exclude stray thoughts, neither let inner images leak outward nor let outer images intrude, so that inner and outer are both clear and still—this is called “zhaoliao” (illumination and complete seeing). Going further, neither inwardly clinging to thoughts nor outwardly clinging to the physical form, true nature becomes as open and unobstructed as the Great Void—what could creating and transforming do to it?

Confucian classics say: “Do not envy; do not covet” and “Without fault, yet not seeking fame.” This means not envying and not coveting, so the mind is empty, open, and unobstructed; thus, what could creating and transforming do to it?

Confucian classics say: “Do not be jealous; do not be covetous,” and “Have no faults and seek no empty fame.” The meaning is this: without jealousy or covetousness, one is not driven by external things; without faults and without chasing hollow reputation, one is not pulled about by changes in the outside world.

The Xici commentary on the Book of Changes says: “In the distance, take images from the myriad things; up close, take images from oneself.” I take this to mean: observing from the perspective of the myriad things, one can see that the various causes and conditions in the world are all illusory; observing from oneself, one can see that the five skandhas—the form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness that make up body and experience—are originally empty. Shutting out the myriad external entanglements and dissolving the inner five skandhas, one can follow the movement of heaven and earth and rest content in joy; understanding the beginning and end of things, the reasons for obscurity and clarity, and the principles of life and death, one can exhaust principle, fully clarify one’s nature, and ultimately grasp one’s allotted destiny.

Joy in following the way of heaven, therefore no grief; fully clarifying one’s nature, therefore no doubt. Unless one reaches the state of “extending knowledge” (zhì zhī)—pushing inquiry into things and broadening understanding—who could do this? One who has extended knowledge has an inner sincerity that is clear and a stillness that is settled, and therefore knows: what ceaselessly arises and perishes is illusory form; the many unequal distinctions come from deluded mind; what constantly changes is the age; what cannot long endure is worldly affairs.

When observation and refinement are brought to maturity, this is called the work of a sage; taking “the One” to penetrate the myriad affairs, one is therefore not ruled by the transformations of creation. If one cannot extend knowledge, one cannot investigate things (gé wù); if one cannot investigate things, one is carried along by external things—how then can nature and life be settled? Heaven and earth operate and transform, circulating through the six directions; heaven and earth are then in accord with me, and the principles of the myriad things are all complete in me. When the original mind is restored to view, the ten thousand things return to “the one without duality,” and the transformations of creation come to rest.

For example: if qian and kun (heaven and earth) did not transform, if sun and moon did not move, whence would the six children (the six trigrams symbolizing thunder, wind, water, fire, mountain, and lake) arise? If the six children did not interlayer and overlap, if yin and yang did not ascend and descend, whence would the myriad things arise? The substance of qian and kun is pure unity without admixture; it does not alter because of positive and negative or smooth and obstructive—therefore we say it has no creating. To accomplish creating within non-creating is “great creating”; to accomplish change within non-change is “great transforming.”

One who understands in this way knows that all things in the world are temporary gatherings of causes and conditions, and that the movement of yin and yang is likewise illusory. Unless one is the person in the realm who most penetratingly sees change, who could grasp this?

From the perspective of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism), the root lies in the mind: the changes of heaven, earth, and the myriad things arise from the mind, and transcending those changes must also begin with the mind.

The essential point of Buddhist practice is seeing one’s nature (xing). To see the nature, one must first set a firm resolve, overcome the pull of daily habits, and through strict discipline preserve a state in which the mind is clear and unobstructed. Then use wisdom to penetrate all delusion so that the mind does not cling to outer things and thoughts are not dragged about by emotion. Thought is the root of affliction; the mind is the seed from which all views arise. When thought moves, affliction follows; when thought stills, affliction stills. When the mind arises, phenomena and views arise; when the mind is extinguished, they dissolve. To stop a thought as soon as it rises—all of this depends on one’s own mind. When the mind of birth-and-death is wholly stilled, quiescence becomes ease: this is seeing the nature.

Those who practice today cannot see the nature because they are blocked by hindrances of principle and hindrances of affairs (confusion about doctrine, and obstacles from daily business and ingrained habits). Without deep, broad contemplation, one cannot release the hindrances of principle; without profound stilling, one cannot remove the hindrances of affairs. Great insight means using wisdom to cut through delusion; great cessation means using strength to subdue habitual tendencies. When wisdom’s cutting through is fully mature, one no longer clings to any doctrine; when the work of stilling is fully mature, nothing in affairs any longer binds the mind. Penetrating the ultimate emptiness of the three emptinesses (emptiness of self, of dharmas, and of emptiness itself), and realizing the one true ultimate reality—this is the height of great insight. When body, mind, worldly affairs, thoughts, and consciousness all cease together, that is the height of great cessation. Unless one’s spiritual capacity is exceptionally high and wisdom surpasses the ordinary, who can reach such a level?

The key to cultivating the Dao lies in preserving one’s original nature. To preserve that nature, you must first use the sword of wisdom to cut down every inner demon, use the “fire talisman” (huofu—the practice formula or focused intent that stands for refining and clearing desire in cultivation) to dissolve the six desires, and then rely on stable concentration (dingli) to forget emotional entanglement and cut off discursive thought, drop your burdens, and clarify the mind within. When the mind is pure and burdens are gone, when thought is severed and emotional fixation fades, that is what it means to preserve the original nature. Once true nature endures, it is no longer ruled by the transformations of creation.

Many who cultivate the Dao today are pulled by emotion and conscious intent. To free yourself from them, you must first remove the mind of birth-and-death—the mind in which thoughts constantly arise and pass away. When the mind has no birth-and-death, the body is no longer governed by birth-and-death; that is dingjing (the stabilized meditative state). To remove the mind of birth-and-death, you must let the habit of no-thought (wunian) ripen until you no longer dream; when the stillness of wunian ripens, you can reach non-birth (wusheng). “No dreams” is a great matter in present practice; “no thought” is a great matter at the final stage. Reaching non-birth, you no longer fabricate; reaching no dreams, you no longer shift and change. Neither fabricating nor changing is neither born nor destroyed. Unless someone’s attainment is deep, who can reach this?

The heart of Confucian learning is to fully realize human nature. To realize nature, you must illumine bright virtue (mingde) and abide in supreme goodness. Only when you know where to stop can the mind settle; when the mind settles, you can forget outer things and the self. The judgment on the Gen (Keeping Still) hexagram in the Yijing says: “Keeping still in the back—you do not see your own body; walking through the courtyard, you do not see others—no blame.” “Keeping still in the back” means the mind has a fixed point and forgets its own thoughts; “not obtaining the body” means forgetting the self; “walking the courtyard without seeing anyone” means forgetting outer things. When mind, self, and things are all forgotten, what blame remains? That is knowing the utmost point of stopping. Knowing that stopping, you forget thing and self and preserve heavenly principle (tianli)—that is fully realizing human nature.

People today cannot fully realize nature because body and mind weigh on them. With that drag, they meet obstruction, so they must be decisive and resolute: decisiveness lets you forget outer things; firm resolution lets you forget the self. Forgetting both thing and self, you fully realize nature, reach the root of life—and that is dingjing. Unless someone combines wondrous virtue with the work of a sage, who can reach this?

Most people in this world take this physical body to be their real “self”—they give it hardly a thought at all! This body is brought into being by various causes and conditions. Before it takes shape, is there any form? Any name? Any “I”? After it changes and perishes, are there still form, name, and “I”? Since no genuine “I” can be found either before formation or after dissolution, how can one stubbornly cling to this present body and insist that a fixed, unchanging “I” dwells within it?

People do not realize that body, mind, and all affairs in the world are inherently illusory and insubstantial. Tracing through past, present, and future—the three times—one finds no fixed, enduring entity. The past is already far away; how could it still be grasped? Present thoughts shift moment by moment, and the future will surely be the same. For countless kalpas, people have lived inside a great dream-realm, yet they grip fast to empty causes and conditions, thereby planting the roots of samsara—so birth and death repeat without end. If someone can awaken and see the truth within this dream-realm, and skillfully free themselves and act with ease, are they not a perfected person (zhiren)—one who has attained the Dao?

One day I raised this gong’an (a case or phrase for contemplation) for the disciples to investigate. Several disciples gradually grasped its essential meaning, so I wrote this essay and gave it to them. This is transmission mind-to-mind: if one can receive and realize it in the immediate present, silently communing and tacitly accorded, one can at once still deluded thoughts—neither scheming for what lies ahead nor fretting over what comes after, nor clinging to what is before one’s eyes. When past, future, and present merge into one, one gains great freedom—wandering at ease in the sea of quiescence, roaming freely in the realm of non-attachment, resting in natural ease. Reaching this stage, one sees that even the transformative workings of heaven and earth can no longer dictate anything to oneself.

Yet there is still something higher. Tell me: what is meant by “that which lies above” (the matter beyond one’s current understanding)? Ah! Overturn the word “nothing” (wu), shatter the void—only then is one truly finished with the path. This matter must be kept secret! Must be kept secret!

Preface to “The Chapter on Abandoning Learning and Being Without Worry”

What is meant by “cutting off learning” (juexue) is not refusing to study at all. If one took non-study as cutting off learning, one would understand nothing and be no different from ordinary people. The “cutting off learning” spoken of here means that after broad and thorough study, one reaches a state in which one no longer clings to learning itself. People in the world often treat having learned much as a strange or special skill; the result is that the more they learn, the more confused they become, and they miss the essential point. The sage says, “The farther one travels, the less one knows,” and also, “Knowing much leads to confusion; knowing little leads to gain.” That is exactly this principle. Earlier Confucian scholars said, “When one acts with deliberate intent, one cannot rest all day; when one accords with nature and acts through wuwei (non-action), one can rest.” The meaning is the same. Therefore this text was written to explain these principles, so that those who cultivate the Way are not dragged down by śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas (Buddhist practitioners who seek personal liberation), nor by attachment to literal meaning in words, knowledge, and views.

In daily life, profound principle is present everywhere; it is only that people have not yet fully recognized it. One should apply the mind to what truly matters and set aside empty doctrine on the lips.

The various methods and gates are not empty “dharma” with nothing in them; yet what is passed down from generation to generation may not be the true Way. If one has never cultivated merit and virtue, how could misfortune arrive first?

Without increase, there is no decrease; without change, how could transformation occur? Do not cling to impurity, and do not cling to purity; do not cling to brokenness, and do not cling to wholeness.

Do not cling to anger or joy—why then worry over hardship and setbacks? If one does not create causes of goodness, how could one bind oneself to karmic ties of evil?

Do not fix the mind on rise and fall; then fame and profit cannot pull you. Whether coarse or fine, do not favor or reject; whether beautiful or ugly, do not hate or pity.

If one need not repay the entanglements that come with delight, then favor and grudge no longer cling. Open the net of dividing self and others; step out of the circle of right and wrong.

Clear and empty, bright and still—there is no need to worship the ancients alone. Quiet and plain—there is no need to strive deliberately to become a sage. Do not brood over what comes after this life, and do not cling to what was before one was born.

Let Buddha be Buddha, and let immortals be immortals. Since one is not burdened by the dust of worldly affairs, why fear being scorched by the fire of karmic affliction?

Neither holding to being nor to non-being, allowing emptiness and fullness to interpenetuate as they will—because the heart makes no choices of gain and loss, faults naturally do not arise.

Forget coming and going alike; what is there to cling to in birth and death? Wherever you are, nothing feels lacking; you abide where you are and let the place be wide or narrow, square or round.

When hungry, eat a bowl of rice; when thirsty, drink half a cup of spring water. When the mood moves you, amuse yourself as you please; when tired, sleep in peace.

Those who understand this need not seek a higher realm beyond the heavens. What is before the eyes is clear and bright; the ultimate state is likewise luminous and good.

“When the mood moves you, amuse yourself as you please; when tired, sleep in peace.

Those who understand this need not seek a higher realm beyond the heavens. What is before the eyes is clear and bright; the ultimate state is likewise luminous and good.”

—End of the Zhonghe ji (Collection on Central Harmony)

Commentary on the Wushang Chiwen Donggu Zhenjing (Supreme Red Text Cave Ancient True Scripture)

Commentary by Li Daochun of Duliang, student of the Way, Qing’an Yingchanzi

To grasp the meaning of “wushang” (the unsurpassed), you have already taken in the whole point of the scripture. The opening speaks of “not moving, wuwei (non-action)”; the second chapter says “close the eyes and forget sight, stop the ears and forget hearing”; later passages speak of “no image, no form”—all are variations on this one theme.

You must not take it as “being” or “non-being,” nor as “there is not even ‘nothing.’” Within nothing there is still the aspect that is “not nothing”—that is true nothing (zhen wu); those who cultivate must recognize this true nothing. Know that body and image are illusory dust, while color and sound are the outer realm the senses touch. Outwardly, release attachment to color and sound; inwardly, release attachment to body and image. When neither inner nor outer is obstructed, the True One (the real, unchanging nature) abides constantly. Is this not tasting “nothing” within “not nothing”?

The Supreme Lord said: “Emptiness reaches the point where there is nothing left to empty; since what was emptied is gone, even ‘nothing’ is gone; after even ‘nothing of nothing’ is gone, that is the clear, ever-tranquil realm.” The “Appended Remarks” to the Book of Changes says: “The Changes has no thought and no deliberate act; silent and unmoving, yet it penetrates all change through responsiveness.” Master Chuan said: “Whatever has form or pursuit is delusion; if you cling only to the formless and imageless, you fall into withered stillness and one-sidedness. The fully manifest real substance—why must you inquire? One strand of cold, bright light illumines boundless great void.”

Seen this way, worthies of the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism) all used “true nothing” to awaken later students, so that cultivators function without stirring, act within wuwei: inwardly forgetting the body, outwardly forgetting color and sound; nurturing the imageless, holding to the formless, preserving the true original, transcending attachment to “empty nothing.” This is called the “highest vehicle” (zui shang yi cheng)—because there is no realm above it, it is called wushang (unsurpassed).

“Red” refers to empty, formless Qi (ethereal, intangible vital energy). “Pattern” means brilliant radiance that shines everywhere. Buddhism uses naked body, empty hands, bare ground, and scenes of vast emptiness as metaphors for “emptiness,” so “red” also carries the sense of emptiness as metaphor. The Shuogua says “Qian is red”; Qian represents Heaven, and here too the meaning of void is taken. Thus “Red Pattern” is the manifestation of the light of empty Qi. What the Duren Jing calls “the five patterns open wide” and “without pattern nothing is saved” likewise speaks of brilliant light shining and pervading all.

If the cultivator can hold to the root and return to the source, entering the gapless (a state without obstruction), empty Qi will appear in full splendor, filling Heaven and Earth, with light shining everywhere—hence it is called “Red Pattern.”

Penetrating Antiquity

“Penetrating” is contemplation; “antiquity” is the beginning. Examining the beginning of things enables one to understand their end—this is the meaning of “returning from the origin to the completion.” The Supreme One said: “Hold fast to the Dao of antiquity to govern the present.” The Yinfu Jing says: “Observe the Dao of Heaven, hold fast to the conduct of Heaven—nothing more is needed.”

If the cultivator can forget outer seeing and hearing, withdraw the gaze and concentrate inward in listening, light will naturally fill the boundless, and mind-consciousness will become deep, quiet, and unfathomable. Such contemplation is called “complete illumination”; from this one begins to penetrate subtle sound, observes with thorough insight without obstruction, and thus knows the beginning of things—hence it is called “Penetrating Antiquity.”

“Jing” (scripture) means the path that leads to one’s destination. This scripture treats the Great Dao that all people can follow, and also the subtle principles of the highest vehicle (the highest level of cultivation method). It explains the mysterious workings of empty, void qi (xu ji wu xing de yuan qi—formless, still primordial energy), and the method of penetrating without obstruction; it reveals the key meaning of investigating the root origin and returning to the ultimate, and is a shortcut beyond the realm of non-birth, as well as a genuine important path out of the dusty world.

When reading this scripture, one must not seek only the literal meaning word by word and line by line; one should grasp the principle beyond words and text. If one can silently comprehend and let the principle be personally realized through one’s own body and mind, one can reach straight through to the true realm of emptiness and void, and enter the pre-heaven realm before the primordial beginning. Therefore it is called a “true scripture.”

“Motion that moves comes from what does not move. Action that acts comes from non-action (wuwei).”

Master Hengqu (Song Neo-Confucian Zhang Zai, styled Hengqu) said: “Having only motion without stillness, or only stillness without motion, belongs to physical things; motion within stillness and stillness within motion is the wondrous functioning.” Laozi said: “Through wuwei, nothing is left undone.” I hold that motion arising from stillness is true motion; doing something within wuwei is true action.

“When spirit returns, the myriad things flourish yet are still; when qi is extinguished, the myriad things have no birth.”

Laozi said: “The myriad things flourish and grow, and in the end each returns to its root; returning to the root is called stillness.” Buddhism says: “When thoughts are extinguished, various phenomena are also extinguished.” I hold that when spirit hides in the absolutely silent realm, though the myriad things are luxuriant, inwardly they cease; when qi disperses and returns to emptiness and stillness, the myriad things are silent and without birth.

“Spirit receives spirit; things support one another.”

The Appended Remarks to the Book of Changes says: “Ceaseless generation is called the Dao.” I hold that spirit and spirit mutually respond, and thing and thing mutually assist, so that all can continue without end.

“Return to the root and grasp the root—understand it in silence.”

The Appended Remarks says: “Silently completing the myriad things, without words yet making people trust.” I hold that storing the true One (chun yi bu za de ben zhen zhi qi—pure, undivided authentic qi) in the root of a tree is called “root”; storing it in the branches and tips is called “branch.” One who can comprehend with spirit and grasp with the heart can exhaust the source and understand the root.

“I myself cultivate it.”

The Yixian says: “The myriad things arise in silence, yet without words they can make people trust and follow.” I hold that when one nurtures “True Unity” (the primordial authentic qi spoken of in the Daoist tradition) at the root of the tree, this is called “root”; when one nurtures it at the tip of the tree, this is called “branch.” Whoever can grasp its numinous intent can trace things to their source and awaken to what is fundamental.

“I bury it within myself and enter the realm of no gap.”

The Yixian says: “The sage uses this to cleanse the mind and gather the spirit, storing it in what is deep and hidden.” I hold that “to bury” (zhi) means to conceal and lodge. When one places oneself in utter extremity, one can enter a state without interval—where nothing is blocked and everything communicates.

“Neither dying nor living—one with Heaven and Earth.”

The Yixian says: “When one investigates the beginning and end of things, one can understand the principle of life and death.” The Heart Sutra says: “Neither born nor destroyed.” I hold that life and death are like the alternation of day and night—a natural, constant pattern. Day and night each have their own order; life and death each have their own order. Whoever can view life and death in this way is united with Heaven and Earth as one body.

The Superior Chapter on Holding Fast to the True

Movement within stillness and action within Wuwei (non-action) are the grasp of the substance of the True. Spirit returning to the root and qi returning to stillness, mutually receiving and mutually nourishing—this is the grasp of the function of the True. Returning to the root, the self harbors True Unity within, and becomes one with Heaven and Earth—this is the sage’s accomplishment in holding fast to the True. Therefore the “Chapter on Entering Sagehood” is transmitted, along with a verse in praise of the Dao:

The spirit moves naturally within non-movement; the Dao runs naturally in the place of Wuwei. If one can see through the root of movement and action, all that the prior Heaven creates and transforms returns here.

“Forget the eyes, and light overflows without limit; extinguish the ears, and the heart’s knowing stays deep and still as an abyss.”

Laozi says: “Without looking out the window, one can know the way of Heaven; without going out the door, one can understand the world.” I hold that when the eyes do not look outward, numinous light can shine everywhere without bound; when the ears are not pulled by sounds from outside, heart-and-knowing can be vast, deep, and tranquil.

“When both faculties are forgotten, pure and whole one accords with the great norm; vast and blended, one accords with what has no peer.”

The Book of Odes says: “Do not strain to know, do not strain to act—simply follow the will of the Lord on High.” The sages of old said that this is the state before things were divided, when all was one in primordial chaos. The Du Ren Jing says that in that time heaven and earth were deep and dark, vast and without light. I hold that though forms appear before the eyes, it is as if one saw nothing; though sounds reach the ears, it is as if one heard nothing. Spirit and mind are pure and single, kept whole and true; body and heart both settle quietly into stillness and undifferentiated oneness. Thus one can transcend past and present and arrive at a level with nothing to compare.

Though heaven and earth are vast, I am what sustains them; though the myriad things are many, I am what gathers them.

The Appended Remarks to the Book of Changes says that nothing is more worthy of taking as model than heaven and earth. Mencius said that among the myriad things none can stand alongside heaven and earth.

The Appended Remarks also says that nothing is more worthy of taking as model than heaven and earth. Mencius said that the principles of the myriad things are all present within my own person. I hold that heaven moves without ceasing and earth quietly bears; I am able to gather their principles under one rule. Though the myriad things are numerous, when gathered they return to oneness.

Where is the end? If one speaks of reaching the limit, what harm lies in that?

The early Confucians said that the principles of heaven, earth, and human beings cannot be exhausted; if one insists they can be exhausted, is that not itself a fault? I hold that when one penetrates all principles through “oneness,” the Way is naturally brought to completion.

Ascending into the Sacred Chapter

Forget sight and extinguish hearing, so that form and sound no longer obstruct you, and you can merge with heaven and earth as one. If one still stumbles over the myriad things, one has not yet entered deeply into the Way. One who enters deeply can penetrate all principles with “oneness,” gather the three powers of heaven, earth, and humanity, and therefore endure long. Hence what follows is the “Chapter on Abiding in the World,” together with a verse of praise:

To speak only of not hearing and not seeing is ultimately still empty; to follow form and sound without being blocked is true return to oneness. If one still stumbles over the myriad things, one has not yet entered deeply into the Way. One who enters deeply can penetrate all principles with “oneness,” gather the three powers, and therefore endure long. Hence what follows is the “Chapter on Abiding in the World,” together with a verse of praise: to speak only of not hearing and not seeing is still ultimately vain; to follow form and sound without being bound by them may still fall into the dust of the world. Only when both sides of this teaching are gathered into one do you enter the sacred realm; when effort is deep and strength sufficient, you reach the whole and the true.

Nurture the realm without form or image, and form will instead be preserved long; hold fast to the root without shape or body, and the living essence will be whole and true.

Laozi said: “The greatest image has no fixed shape.” He also said: “Place the self outside the self, and the self will be preserved.” I hold that the image without form or image is the truly great image, and therefore it is not destroyed through long kalpas; the body without shape or body is the true root-nature, and therefore one can preserve the original true nature of the self.

Complete authenticity and mutual support lead to lasting endurance.

The early Confucians said: “Pure unity without falsity.” I take pure unity as quan (completeness, wholeness), and absence of falsity as zhen (authenticity, truth). When wholeness and authenticity reinforce each other, that is the way of long life and clear vision.

Heaven keeps to the authentic, and therefore endures; earth keeps to the authentic, and therefore persists.

Laozi said: “Heaven and earth can be long because they do not live for themselves.” I understand “not living for themselves” as letting go of fixation on the bodily form, so one can preserve the root of authentic being and endure like heaven and earth.

People in the world cannot endure because they lose formless authenticity and scatter the root that has no fixed shape.

The Diamond Sutra says: “All conditioned dharmas are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows.” I take it that dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows may show a shape, yet in the end they dissolve. Therefore clinging to the body and to outward appearances is empty transformation; in the end it all decays.

One cannot keep the whole body, every limb and the nine openings, alive together with the body of authentic being—so the person dies.

Chan master Kaishan said: “The moment you fall into the split between being and non-being, you lose body and life.” I hold that people in the world cannot endure because of craving and clinging. Those who crave and cling are driven by things; they change along with outer objects and cannot keep the whole body, every limb and the nine openings, together with the body of authentic being—so in the end they die.

By cultivating the invisible image of the true self and guarding the formless root, one can endure for long. Those who cling to what has form lose their original true nature, so life easily decays. What has form will in the end be destroyed; the formless root can therefore endure. When the myriad things return to emptiness, the true self is preserved; when emptiness is taken as the myriad things, the true self is lost. To abandon the former and hold to the latter is the way of the perfected person (zhiren, one whose cultivation has reached a profound level). Thus one may keep the body, remain in the world, and also attain long life with clear sight. Yet there is also a Dao of transcending the world and reaching the realm of non-birth. What counts as transcendence? What is the Dao of non-birth? Alas—since the illusory body has form, it will in the end be destroyed; the Dharmakaya (the body of the Law, the formless true body beyond physical form) has no appearance, and so can endure. When both form and non-form are utterly emptied, one is the unmoving honored one who abides in suchness (a presence undisturbed by change, resting in ultimate reality).

Commentary on the Tai Shang Sheng Xuan Ascending to the Mysterious, Dispelling Calamities and Protecting Life Subtle Scripture

Annotated by Li Daochun, Qing’an Yingchanzi of Duliang, a student of the Way

Tai Shang Sheng Xuan Ascending to the Mysterious, Dispelling Calamities and Protecting Life Subtle Scripture

At that time, Yuanshi Tianzun (the Primordial Lord of Heaven, a supreme deity in Daoism) was in the Grove of Seven Treasures, within the Palace of Five Illuminations, together with the sages of the limitless (wuliang shengzhong, innumerable holy beings), sending forth boundless light that shone through boundless worlds. They saw the beings of those worlds bearing endless suffering, drifting and wandering in the world, turning in the wheel of birth and death; sunk deep in the river of attachment and love, carried on the sea of desire; drowning in sound and color, lost in the discrimination between “being” and “non-being.” They took emptiness for being and being for emptiness, took the colorless for the colored, took non-being for being and being for non-being, remaining dim and unclear throughout; though capable of awakening on their own, they ultimately still fell into confusion.

The Celestial Worthy said: All of you sentient beings see “non-being” from “being,” and see “being” from “non-being”; you know emptiness through form, and know form through emptiness. This is not treating being as fixed being, non-being as fixed non-being, form as fixed form, or emptiness as fixed emptiness. Emptiness is emptiness, yet there is no unchanging emptiness; form is form, yet there is no unchanging form. Form itself is emptiness, and emptiness does not depart from form. If you can understand that emptiness is not absolute emptiness, you can know form; and you also understand that so-called emptiness is not a truly existent emptiness. Emptiness is emptiness, yet has no fixed emptiness; form is form, yet has no fixed form. Form itself is emptiness, and emptiness does not depart from form. If you can understand emptiness without clinging to emptiness, and also understand that form is not fixed form, this is called zhao le—clear, thorough insight. Only then can you penetrate the yin shi wu kong fa (the Dharma method named in this scripture), see through everything without obstruction, enter the gate of manifold subtleties, naturally awaken, leave behind all doubt, not cling to views of emptiness, purify the six senses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind), and cut off wrong views and obstacles. I will now proclaim this sublime scripture for you. Its title is the Scripture on Protecting Life and Delivering Sentient Beings. It should be taught in the world, widely circulated and recited. At that time, the flying celestial kings, vajra warriors who shatter heterodoxy, dharma-protecting spirit youths, deliverers from suffering, golden essence fierce beasts, and others—each in hundreds of millions—will guard this scripture according to how it is honored, ward off calamity, support the weak, and help all sentient beings leave every kind of defilement and attachment.

Then the Celestial Worthy spoke in verse:

You cannot see me, nor hear me; transcending every boundary of opposition—this is called the subtle Dao.

At that time, the Yuanshi Celestial Worthy

“Yuanshi” refers to the primal ancestor qi of origin. The primal ancestor qi of origin gives birth to the heavens; it is also what Buddhism calls the “supreme” and the “unmoving honored one of the Dao,” hence the title Celestial Worthy.

In the grove of seven treasures

When the three primes and four images are complete in the human body, it is called the “grove of seven treasures.”

Within the palace of five luminosities

This is the central palace of the Huangting (Yellow Court). The inner realm is empty, still, clear, and universally illuminating—therefore it is called the “palace of five luminosities.”

Together with the sage assembly of Wuji (the limitless)

This means manifold transformations.

Emitting the light of Wuji

This means manifold knowing and seeing.

Contemplating the Boundless World

This passage speaks of the various realms and states of experience.

Observing Sentient Beings in the Boundless Realm

It speaks of the many kinds of illusory delusion and wandering thought.

Bearing Boundless Suffering

It speaks of the many kinds of bondage and entanglement.

Tossing and Turning in the World

The body keeps changing and form keeps shifting, with no end in sight.

The Wheel of Birth and Death

One is born and dies, shuttling back and forth between life and death, without ever noticing it oneself.

Drifting on the River of Desire

The river of love and longing is broad with waves; people drift on it because emotional ties pull them along.

Turning in the Sea of Craving

The sea of desire runs deep with dangerous surges; people sink in it because they cling and cannot let go.

Lost in Sound and Form

When one is bewitched by sound and appearance, that is called karmic consciousness—the mind led astray by the momentum of past action.

Confused by “Is” and “Is Not”

When one is caught by ideas of existence and non-existence, that is called the roots and dust—the senses and whatever they contact.

Saying “No Emptiness” and “There Is Emptiness”

To say “there is no emptiness” is not true emptiness; to say “there is emptiness” is only a hollow, illusory emptiness.

Saying “No Form” and “There Is Form”

To say “there is no form” is not true formlessness; to say “there is form” is only illusory form.

Saying “No Nothingness” and “There Is Nothingness”

To say “there is no nothingness” is not true nothingness; to say “there is nothingness” is only illusory nothingness.

Saying “There Is Being” and “There Is No Being”

To say “there is being” is not true being; to say “there is no being” is only illusory non-being.

Forever Dull and Unclear

As long as one clings to any side, one falls into confusion and obscurity.

Unable to Awaken on One’s Own

If one holds to no position at all, one may still end up not understanding.

Ultimately Trapped in Delusion

These situations disturb and overturn one another, so the mind never finds rest.

The Heavenly Lord revealed the purpose of this scripture: all sentient beings dwell in mutually distinct realms—being and non-being, form and emptiness, and the like—so in compassion he taught this scripture and used various skilful means and metaphors to guide people to cultivate true awakening through this illusory body. “The seven treasures” and “the five illuminations” are metaphors of this kind.

If you wish to nurture the primordial spirit (yuanshen) in the jade palace of the spirit and refine the body with the golden fluid, you must first preserve the primordial ancestral qi—the root qi from which all things begin—and then gather and put in order the various conditions of cause and affinity. Only then can you break through diverse attachments and discriminations, leave behind every realm, cut off illusory delusion, and loosen every bond. Then you will no longer be tormented by craving and affliction, nor continue to turn in the cycle of rebirth. To understand and practice in this way is to enter the path of long life and lasting vision.

The Heavenly Lord went on to say:

You sentient beings all arise from illusion.

Whatever seems solidly real has no fixed reality in the first place.

Whatever seems utterly void is not absolutely void either.

All forms and appearances have no fixed, unchanging form.

All aspects of emptiness are not a fixed, unchanging emptiness.

If you cling to “efficacious action” (youwei), what you call “being” is not true being.

If you cling to “non-action” (wuwei), what you call “non-being” is not true non-being.

If you treat form as a fixed form, you have not truly known form.

If you are confused by emptiness and take emptiness as a real emptiness, that understanding is wrong.

To recognize emptiness as emptiness is only to cling to a rigid notion of emptiness.

How could emptiness have a fixed, unchanging substance?

To recognize form as form is still to grasp at illusory form.

Those who have truly understood emptiness should also see through the false views that bind living beings. When they comprehend form, they realize that the shapes form takes have no fixed, unchanging substance—they are only illusory appearances. Form and emptiness are not different; emptiness does not depart from form. To know that emptiness is not mere nothingness is true emptiness; to know that form is not fixedly real is true form.

This is called illumination: seeing that form and emptiness are originally one, and that being and non-being are not opposed. When one first begins to apprehend Miaoyin—the wondrous sound beyond ordinary hearing—one listens without clinging. When one knows the teaching of emptiness, one knows that emptiness too has nothing fixed to grasp. With such insight one passes through without obstruction: being and non-being do not stand against each other. This is the gate of unobstructed passage. Entering thereby the myriad gates where form and emptiness are one, one naturally understands, without clinging to being or non-being, and the mind opens wide; leaving behind all doubt, one is no longer caught in the split between form and emptiness.

Do not cling to views of “emptiness.” Understand that from the realm of the eye through the realm of consciousness there is no fixed nature; purify the six roots—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—without clinging to the six objects: form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects; cut off wrong views and obstacles, and do not cling either to the five aggregates—form, sensation, perception, volition, and consciousness.

The two sections above set forth the mind-cultivation method of Shengxuan—ascending into the mysterious. The Heavenly Worthy, in compassionate care for living beings, pointed straight at the heart of being and non-being, form and emptiness, and warned again and again so that people might leave discriminating realms behind and not dwell in views of being, non-being, or emptiness. The key to ascending into the mysterious and reaching the subtle is fully given here. Adepts who truly see through at this point have completed their study; if you have not yet understood, listen carefully to the closing line:

“Therefore I proclaim this wondrous scripture for you.”

The essential meaning of “protecting life” has been fully explained up to this point. Advanced cultivators who seek the Dao and pursue truth, if they can discern clearly here, may consider their study and practice complete; if they have not yet grasped it, please listen carefully to the final sentence.

“Therefore I expound this marvelous scripture for you.”

The scripture is named “Protecting Life”; it treats the way of long life and lasting vision.

It can deliver and liberate beings: those who believe in it and put it into practice will not suffer defilement and humiliation.

To keep and revere this scripture on one’s person is to store it within the heart-mind, so that the body is preserved and life extended; to spread its teaching in the world is to extend benefit outward, reaching both the human realm and the heavens.

Circulating and reciting this scripture can ward off calamity and support the weak.

Where the scripture resides, benevolent deities who guard the human world stand watch. This is close in meaning to what Buddhist scriptures say: “where a scripture is present is like the place where a pagoda or Buddhist temple stands.”

Warding off calamity and supporting the weak is like medicine that prolongs life and stones used in healing; delivering and liberating all beings is the bridge that helps beings cross the sea of suffering; staying far from various attachments (clinging to external things and desires) is the method of washing away dust and grime.

At this point the Celestial Worthy again used verse to restate the subtle meaning:

“Look for it yet you do not see me”—be careful with what cannot be seen;

“Listen yet you do not hear”—revere what cannot be heard;

Stay far from partiality and opposition, so the noble person is always cautious in conduct when alone;

This is called the “wondrous Dao (Miaodao).”

The path of ascending to the mysterious has been fully set forth here.

The three chapters above exhort people to uphold and recite the classic and explain its merit. Earlier, the four orientations of being, non-being, form, and emptiness were discussed, and the true direction of practice was made the ladder of ascent to the mysterious and the bridge for saving beings—lest cultivators lack the strength to bear the burden.

The path of mysterious ascent and progress has been fully set forth up to this point.

The Three Preceding Chapters

These explain how to encourage people to uphold the scripture and the merit that comes from doing so. The earlier text spoke of four orientations—“being,” “non-being,” “form,” and “emptiness”—and described the true path of practice as a ladder ascending into the mysterious realm and a bridge to cross the ford of delusion. The author feared that those whose strength in cultivation was insufficient might not be able to bear the load, so in this chapter various dharma-forms are provisionally set up to guide people of middling and lower capacity, so that they may revere, believe in, and persist in practice; first reciting the scripture and grasping its meaning, then gradually entering a higher realm. Four lines of verse also point directly to the mysterious essentials, in the hope that both humans and non-humans may ascend into the mysterious realm. From this one can see that the Supreme Old Immortal’s virtue of cherishing life and saving beings has indeed reached its utmost. Only one who truly resolves the mind and strives in practice is fit to repay this mysterious grace; those who study this scripture should all the more exert themselves in cultivation.

Commentary on the Lord Supreme Old Immortal’s Scripture on Constant Clarity and Quietness

Annotated by Li Daochun, Qing’an Yingchanzi, who pursued study at Duliang.

The Old Immortal said: “The Great Dao (the fundamental Way of the cosmos) has no form, yet it nurtures Heaven and Earth; the Great Dao has no partiality, yet it moves the sun and moon; the Great Dao has no fixed name, yet it nourishes the ten thousand things. I do not know what it was originally called, and can only provisionally name it ‘Dao.’”

As soon as one puts into words the Dao that can be spoken—the fundamental pattern of all things in the universe—it is no longer the eternal, unchanging true Dao. Since the Dao cannot be made clear in language, why call it “Dao” at all? Alas, merely uttering the word “Dao” is already a kind of description.

The Dao cannot be seen, heard, or touched; yet its efficacy is never exhausted. It is dim and hard to grasp; it does not belong to the realm of sound or ordinary perception. It is subtle and deep, without fixed form. If one treats the Dao as something that can be heard or fully stated in words, that is not enough to account for it; if one treats it as a fixed, unchanging form, one cannot explain how it responds to change.

Originally the Dao had no form, yet heaven, earth, and the myriad things are born and nurtured through it—so its traces can be seen in those things. Originally the Dao had no feeling or partiality, yet it drives the sun and moon—so its working can be discerned in natural change. Originally the Dao had no name, yet it makes the myriad things grow and flourish—so people may give it a name. The Xici (Appended Remarks) of the Yijing says: “In heaven it forms celestial patterns; on earth it forms the shapes of things; change is thereby displayed.” Is this not the trace by which the Dao shows itself? It also says: “Thunder and lightning stir the myriad things; wind and rain moisten them; sun and moon move, bringing cold and heat in turn.” Is this not the efficacy of the Dao? It further says: “The way of Qian (Heaven) generates the male; the way of Kun (Earth) generates the female.” Are these not the different names under which the Dao appears?

Originally the Dao had no name; the sage reluctantly named it “Dao” because it runs through the myriad changes under heaven and brings the many divergent paths to one convergence. What is called “Dao” is the broad, straight great road that everyone may walk.

Before the cosmos had yet differentiated, the principles of movement and stillness already existed; only after clear qi and turbid qi separated did the workings of movement and stillness begin to appear. Clear qi rose to become Heaven, turbid qi sank to become Earth. As Heaven and Earth opened and closed in transformation and Yin and Yang alternated, they interacted with one another and movement and stillness succeeded each other, giving rise to the turning of the four seasons and the growth of the ten thousand things.

Among the lives born from Heaven and Earth, human beings are the most honored and the most endowed with spirit. Here it is said that men take Heaven as their model and women take Earth as their model: men belong to the clear and women to the turbid, symbolizing the clear rising and turbid sinking of Heaven and Earth; men are active and women are still, symbolizing the opening and closing transformations of Heaven and Earth. When the qi of Heaven and Earth unite, the ten thousand things are thereby generated; from root to branch-end, things continually grow and change without cease.

At first the Taishang (Supreme) said that the Dao is formless, without feeling, and without name—it is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; then it is said that the Dao has movement and stillness, and therefore has a name—it is the mother of the ten thousand things. If someone understands that these two statements spring from one and the same root and differ only in name, that person will grasp that clarity and turbidity are originally one substance, and that movement and stillness are not mutually cut off from each other. Flowing qi may appear turbid, yet its source remains clear; its functioning may appear as motion, yet its substance remains still. Long preserved in purity and stillness, the spirit merges with the Dao and becomes one with Heaven and Earth.

The human spirit by nature loves clarity, yet it is disturbed by wandering thoughts; the human heart by nature loves quiet, yet it is drawn by desires. If one can often dispel desires, the heart naturally settles; if one clarifies the inner mind, the spirit naturally becomes clear. In this way the six desires (desires of the six senses) do not arise, and the three poisons (greed, anger, and delusion) gradually dissolve.

Those who possess the Way habitually use the Dao to restrain desire and never let desire rule the Dao. When desire is governed by the Dao, the spirit grows clear and the mind settles into peace. The supreme Dao and human shen and qi merge as one, moving through the three powers of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity; the myriad things follow change without end—vast without limit, yet penetrating to the finest detail.

If one reverses this and lets desire rule the Dao, the Dao is lost. Those who have lost the Dao need only give rise to a single desire and may then do anything: outer power and profit pull them, inner worry torments them—the heart is driven by external things, and spirit is enslaved by thoughts. When shen and heart cannot stay pure and still, where is the Dao? Often able to restrain desire, the heart becomes steady and unmoving; when the heart is steady, it naturally grows clear and tranquil, without the slightest obscurity, recovering its original clarity. When purity and stillness reach such a level, what desire could remain? The Yizhuan says: “Below the mountain is a lake—this is the hexagram Sun (Decrease). The noble person thereby restrains anger and cuts off desire.” Is this not exactly the point?

The reason people fail is that the heart is not yet clear and desire is not yet removed. One who can remove desire looks inward at the heart and finds that the heart has no fixed, unchanging substance; looks outward at the body and finds that the body has no fixed, unchanging substance; looks further at the myriad things and finds that they too have no fixed, unchanging substance. Once these three are understood, what is seen is only emptiness.

The Most High (Taishang) says: “Clarity and stillness are the right path under Heaven.” By “right” is meant utmost fairness, free of selfish bias. Only the fairness of natural principle (tianli) can overcome the partiality of human desire. That people fail to reach the Great Dao is not because they cannot, but because they are clouded by desires of every kind.

The crux of severing desire is to forget first the split between things and self. To forget things and self is to forget inwardly one’s own thoughts, to forget outwardly one’s own body, and then to forget what lies beyond the body. When all three are let go, natural principle is restored; this is called “great,” and it also matches the meaning of Gen stopping (zhi xi wang dong—ceasing reckless movement and settling in stillness) in the Book of Changes.

The Book of Changes says: “Gen on the back—one does not get the body; walking the courtyard, one does not see the person—no blame.” That is: stopping at the back, one no longer seizes the self; moving through the courtyard without others weighing on the mind, there is no fault. “Gen on the back” means looking inward at the heart until one no longer clings to the heart; “does not get the body” means looking outward at the form until one no longer clings to the body; “walking the courtyard, does not see the person” means looking further at outer things until one no longer clings to things. “No blame” means being without desire. The Most High says: “No fault is greater than craving what can be gained.” That is this very point. When craving for outer things shows itself as empty nothingness, the nature of clarity and stillness can return.

After contemplating void and emptiness, one must see that “emptiness” too is empty—there is no emptiness to grasp. Since the emptiness one contemplates is not there, even “nothing” is not held to. When “nothing” is also released, the heart is clear and quiet, ever still. If even stillness is not clung to, how could desire arise? When desire does not arise, that is true clarity and stillness.

Meeting the ten thousand things with a nature that never changes preserves that nature; responding to things at each moment while each moment staying still keeps one constantly clear and tranquil.

Nothing in the world is sheer void. To thread all affairs through “one” and return at last to the root source is the secret of dispelling desire. First use “emptiness” to dissolve desire; when desire no longer arises, let go even of the idea of emptiness. When emptiness is no longer held, there is no need to cling to “non-being.” When even “non-non-being” is not retained, the mind is clear and still; when you do not cling to that clarity and stillness either, that is true quietude.

“Deeply tranquil and ever still” is the gathering of spirit and entry into empty stillness; “stillness with nothing left to still” is spirit flowing through and stepping beyond empty stillness. True quietude is not frozen immobility. If you take non-movement as stillness, you treat stillness as a fixed form; once the mind has a fixed form, it cannot meet change. What is truly constant is to respond as things change while guarding your original nature: outwardly you act, yet inwardly the real root is never disturbed. Understood this way, you can engage affairs at every moment while the heart stays ever clear and still.

When such clarity and stillness are reached, you gradually enter the true Dao; entering the true Dao is called “obtaining the Dao.” Though it is called obtaining the Dao, in truth there is nothing to possess or gain. For the sake of teaching sentient beings, it is provisionally named obtaining the Dao. One who can grasp this may transmit the sage’s Way.

Stillness without stirring is the fundamental substance; being touched and able to respond is function—this is true quietude. When substance and function share one source, and manifestation and hidden depth are not cut off, you have understood the unchanging Dao. The word “obtain” is also only a forced convenience; if you believe there is really something to obtain, that is not in accord with the Dao.

The sage feared that people would not understand how “being” and “non-being” generate each other, and would fall into extremes of annihilation or fixed permanence. So he used the phrase “obtaining the Dao” to guide them step by step until they suddenly understood. When accomplishment is silent and people are convinced without words, one may reach the sage’s Way. What is called transmission is a handing down that needs no speech. What is called the sage’s Way is the realm the sage attains—so profound it cannot be fathomed.

Lord Lao said: “Those of the highest rank do not contend; those of the lowest rank love to contend. Those of lofty virtue do not think themselves virtuous; those of shallow virtue cling to virtue. Clinging to such labels is not truly in accord with the Dao and its power.”

Those who follow the teachings on non-contention found in Confucian classics and put into practice the conduct of non-contention taught in Buddhist scriptures cultivate in a way that goes beyond fixed methods and forms. They can penetrate what is hidden and subtle and merge in silence with the Dao (the Way); such people are called superior aspirants (shangshi). Inferior aspirants are otherwise: they strive to outdo others, are often pleased with themselves and take themselves to be right, and boast of their own worth—so they cannot be said to possess true De (virtue/power).

When inferior aspirants perform even a little good, they treat it as their own merit; I would say that amounts to having no merit at all. Superior aspirants do the opposite: they gather in their De and keep themselves humble; they regulate themselves with modesty and do not display themselves, so they do not boast and do not contend. Precisely because they do not contend, no one in the world can contend with them. What the Supreme One (Taishang) meant by “superior De is not De, and therefore it has De” is exactly this. Those who cling to De have not yet truly understood De; if they have not understood De, how can they understand the Dao?

The reason living beings cannot attain the true Dao is that they harbor false thoughts in the mind. Once false thoughts arise, the spirit (Shen) is disturbed; when the spirit is disturbed, they fix on external things; fixing on external things gives rise to craving; with craving, afflictions follow. Afflictions and delusion bring distress to body and mind, so they are stained by the dust of the world, turn in birth and death, sink long in the sea of suffering, and in the end lose the true Dao.

Those of inferior capacity love to compete and insist on what they call virtue, because vain thoughts still fill the heart. The ancients who attained the Way said: “Constantly clear away the deluded mind; do not clear away the mind of awakened awareness.” Whatever mind cannot settle is delusion; whatever mind is settled, unmoved, and able to see clearly is the mind of awakened awareness.

When a deluded thought arises, right and wrong begin to be distinguished; once a thought is set in motion, honor and disgrace are also decided—how can one not be careful and urge oneself onward? If the deluded mind cannot be stilled, all kinds of discrimination and conditioned connections follow, leading onto defiled paths, triggering calamity, and even falling into the evil destinations of the yin realm (unwholesome rebirths). None of this fails to begin with the deluded mind. Those who study the Way should be especially careful about the very first thought; if the beginning is not careful, how can there be a good outcome?

When a deluded thought first stirs, people often do not yet notice: spirit is driven by thoughts, and the mind is in turn pulled by outer things; the Three Corpses (in Dàoist teaching, spirits that incite wrongdoing and report people to heaven) blaze up, and the six desires (longing for the six sense objects—form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects) churn—how can one not be dragged along by external things? Once one clings to outer things, craving arises; when craving arises, affliction follows. Deluded imaginings link one to another, and there is no escape. Then body and mind know sorrow and pain, suffer defilement and humiliation, turn in birth and death, sink long in the bitter sea, and in the end lose the true Way—a thing truly pitiable.

Therefore the mind of deluded imagining is the root of saṃsāra. Living beings cannot obtain the true Way because the deluded mind has not ceased.

The Way of true constancy is something those who awaken can naturally apprehend. Those who truly awaken to the Great Way keep the heart-mind constantly pure and still.

The body before your eyes also arises from deluded thoughts. Once the body is born, various emotions and attachments arise; with emotional attachments come worry and suffering. As deluded thoughts keep increasing, all kinds of causes and conditions arise, and one goes straight into the cycle of rebirth. The past has no beginning, the future no end—this is how it is for everyone in the world. Only those who awaken to the Dao can keep the mind of awakened awareness always present; they see that all causes, conditions, and phenomena are empty and illusory, and do not let the mind be stained or attached to them. When the mind of awakened awareness is always present, the deluded mind has no way to act. Through long cultivation until it is mature, one can finally attain the body of pure stillness. To understand in this way is to obtain the way of true constancy.

What is called “the mind of awakened awareness” is the mind of Heaven; “true constancy” means having no deluded thoughts. When this mind is understood, the deluded mind can return to its proper place and accomplish the way of non-delusion. The reason the way of non-delusion can be restored is that it was originally so. The Yijing says: “What Fu (Return) reveals—is it not the heart of Heaven and Earth’s unceasing generation?” Cultivated to this stage, even the most subtle, faintly discernible thoughts can be foreseen in awakened awareness. Ultimately one reaches being calmly unmoved, clearly knowing yet always aware, with awakening deep and spirit bright and undimmed, the inner mind constantly pure and constantly still; when the way of true constancy is cultivated to completion here, the work the sage can do is finished.

“Supreme One” (Taishang) means there is no realm higher than it; “Great Penetration” (Datong) means there is nowhere it cannot reach; “classic” (jing) is the path to becoming true, and also the path of practice that all follow together.

Chapter one’s “without form, without body” refers to the wondrous principle of empty stillness, the supreme one-vehicle wondrous Dharma—this is the meaning of “Supreme One.” Chapter two’s “like emptiness, without characteristics” refers to reaching in all directions without obstruction—this is the meaning of “Great Penetration.” Later chapters say “without characteristics, without deliberate action, vast without boundary”—the Dao is so vast and so mysteriously inexhaustible that it appears everywhere in daily life; this is why it is called a jing (classic).

Born before the primordial

It is born before Heaven and Earth.

Born yet without form

Though it has come into being, it has no shape.

Existing after Heaven and Earth

After Heaven and Earth are formed, it still exists.

What exists is spirit

What continues is the wondrous, unfathomable functioning.

Existing yet without body

Though it always exists, it has no concrete form.

Yet without body

Though without form, it is not mere nothingness.

Yin and Yang beyond measure

Its transformations lie beyond what Yin-Yang change can measure.

Yin and Yang shift in ways too subtle to measure, yet they never put themselves on display; they never stop operating, so they resist being pinned down in words, and their marvelous efficacy knows no end.

The chapter “Upper Vacuity” treats the root of the Dao. Confucius said: “When has Heaven ever spoken? The four seasons keep to their course, and the ten thousand things keep growing.” That is to say, the Dao precedes Heaven, Earth, and the ten thousand things, yet has no determinate shape. The Doctrine of the Mean says: “Look for it and you do not see it; listen and you do not hear it; it nourishes the ten thousand things, and nothing can go against it.” That is to say, the Dao is present in the ten thousand things of the later world, yet has no fixed form. Because of this, the substance of the Dao can drive change and bring forth the ten thousand things, with effects that never run out. Unless one has thoroughly examined things and truly known one’s own nature, who can take in this meaning? For that reason the teaching goes on to the chapter on “Profound Principle.”

Stillness is original nature: utterly unmoving, with the mind resting right there. When stimulation comes, change can be understood; when there is movement, that is the mind. See an outer object, and you can notice how the mind is acting; with no outer object, the mind’s activity has nothing by which to show itself.

When a thought rises, phenomena and notions rise with it, and nature seems to hide; when thought subsides, phenomena and notions subside with it, and nature shows itself again. It is like empty space—no fixed appearance, yet vast, clear, and complete. The image of the Dao is hard to grasp; it is not confined to above, below, or any direction.

“Xing” refers to human nature; “xin” refers to thoughts and consciousness. The Zhongyong says that before joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have been aroused, this is called “zhong” (centrality)—the root of all things under heaven. This describes the state of xing in stillness. It also says that when emotions are aroused and each accords with due measure, this is called “he” (harmony)—the universal Way under heaven. This describes the state of xin in activity.

Nature is originally still, yet without the movement of mind it is hard to manifest; mind is also originally still, yet without responding to things in motion it cannot be seen. Mind appears through contact with outer things; concentrating inward one can apprehend nature. When nature is still, one can comprehend the Dao of heaven—this is called “tong” (penetrating). If thoughts follow outer things, nature is forgotten—hence “when mind arises, nature is extinguished.” If one gathers in the mind and enters stillness, nature appears—hence “when mind is extinguished, nature appears.”

Nature is like empty space: whether in motion or stillness, at root it remains still; whether manifest or not, it is always clear and bright. When outer things disturb it, it is like a cloud passing through the void—does the vast, clear empyrean (taiqing) thereby gain a stain? If it is not tainted, it becomes clear and complete. Human nature is likewise.

“The Great Dao has no fixed form, therefore inwardly gather the body-mind within the realm of the manifest.”

The Great Dao has no fixed form, so one must gather body and mind within concrete things and discern the Great Dao.

“Nurture that which has no form or image, and it will endure.”

Nurture the formless, imageless substrate, and it will long endure.

“True nature accords with Wuwei (non-action), therefore outwardly do not give rise to a grasping mind.”

True nature follows what is natural and does nothing contrived, therefore it does not chase outwardly or give rise to deluded thoughts.

“Use the mind in no contrived way, and the mind will constantly abide.”

Do not deliberately stir the mind, and the mind will instead remain stable and present.

“Such as it is, naturally—vast, without boundary.”

Accord with what is inherently so, unchanged in itself, and the horizon becomes boundless.

“In Wuwei, nothing is blocked.”

Without forced action, nothing fails to penetrate.

“Facing the realm yet forgetting the realm—not sunk in the demons of the six thieves.”

The “six thieves” are the six senses and consciousness—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind (yi)—which easily draw one into pursuit of outer objects. To face outer things without clinging to them is not to be bound by the six thieves.

“I do not chase the realm; the realm does not impinge on me.”

If I do not pursue outer objects, outer objects cannot disturb me.

“Dwell in the dust yet emerge from the dust—not fallen into the transformations of myriad affinities.”

To live amid the world yet not be fettered by it, not dropped into the pull and change of countless conditioned ties.

“I do not stand in the dust; the dust does not stain me.”

If I do not fix on the worldly, the worldly cannot stain me.

“Reach utmost stillness and do not move.”

To attain extreme stillness and not move rashly—this is “great ding” (deep, unmoving concentration).

“Reach harmony and do not drift.”

To attain harmony and not deviate—this is “great hui” (vast, steady wisdom).

“Wisdom illumines the ten directions.”

When wisdom shines through the four quarters, this is called “fire brightness.”

“Empty, transforming, Wuwei.”

Empty and still, able to respond to change while acting without contrivance—this is called “great tong” (great penetration).

Upper Chapter on Profound Mystery (Shang Xuanmiao Zhang)

Here the meaning of the Dao is clarified; therefore what follows is the chapter on profound principle (Xuanli Zhang). The Donggu Jing says: “Nurture that which has no form or image, and it will endure.” This is precisely the sense of “the Great Dao has no fixed form.” Mencius spoke of Wuwei…

Chapter on Profound Mystery

This chapter explains the principle of the Dao, and therefore turns to the meaning of profound mystery. The Tonggu Jing says: “Nurture what has no form and no image, and it will long endure without perishing.” That is the idea that the Great Dao has no fixed appearance. Mencius said: “Do not act rashly, and nothing will be left undone.” That is cited here to show that true nature needs no artificial contrivance. When the inner mind does not cling to appearances, one can naturally abide at rest; when outwardly one does not willfully act in vain, one can be vast and lack nothing.

The patriarch said: “Within the dantian there is a treasure of its own—there is no need to seek the Dao outside; facing the outer world without inner attachment, there is no need to ask about Chan elsewhere.” That is exactly this point. Facing the outer world without being moved by it—where would demonic obstacles come from? Living in the dusty world while the heart is not bound by it—how could one be dragged by worldly ties? When worldly ties cease, temperament and nature grow quiet; when demonic obstacles fade, the heart grows even. When stillness reaches its extreme, one is no longer moved by outer things; when harmony reaches its extreme, one no longer changes with circumstances. Holding both principles together, one becomes perfectly clear and illuminates all things; spirit and wondrous transformation have no fixed boundary.

The verse says: “Having a method, awaken to no-method.”

Thoughts arise with the many dharmas; dharmas likewise vanish as thoughts dissolve.

“No cultivation resolves having cultivation.”

Original nature needs no fabrication; if one insists on contrived cultivation, that goes against original nature.

“The body that embraces the ten thousand images.”

When the mind-ground is empty and bright and the nature-body is still, nothing cannot be contained.

“Not a single thread hung.”

With even one thread of dusty thought, obstruction and gaps appear in practice.

The verses above treat essence and function: from the side of essence, all is originally without form and without grasping; from the side of function, the ten thousand things can still appear. Therefore, though one may start from “having a method,” one must suddenly awaken to “no method”; because originally there is no need for contrived cultivation, one can see through attachment to “cultivation.” Only when neither being nor non-being is clung to, and mind and dharma are released together, do body and mind become as open as the great void and all-inclusive—then the discourse on the Great Dao reaches its end.

San Tian Yi Sui

Composed by Yingchanzi Li Qing’an

Revised by Hunranzi

(The material on “having a method, awaken to no-method” and the like is repeated here.)

Huo Fu Zhi Zhi

The Cauldron and Vessel of Qian and Kun

Above it receives Heaven, below it receives Earth—only this human body is the cauldron and vessel for refining the elixir. Ah! Once this is understood, the method for beginning practice is in fact very simple.

Hidden Dragon, Do Not Act

When the one yang first arises, one should keep still, constantly preserve sincerity and reverence, and settle spirit and mind upright and steady. Ah! At this time the dragon lies hidden—one should not advance lightly or rashly.

The Dragon Appears in the Field

Stir the Xun wind (a figure for moving qi and advancing the inner alchemy “fire” timing), push the firing process forward—in an instant the furnace fills with red light. Is it so? When the dragon appears in the field, its radiance shines through empty space.

Through sustained effort, one remains diligent and unwavering all day long.

When the qi of Heaven and Earth interpenetrate and Yin and Yang reach equilibrium, there are eight ounces of mercury (the alchemical term often standing for yin essence) and half a pound of lead (the term often standing for yang essence). Hehe! The “maiden” (symbolizing yin essence) gathers and settles; the “infant” (symbolizing yang essence) receives from above.

At times it leaps upward; at times it hides in the deep abyss.

Use water to restrain fire and metal to overcome wood. At this stage one should perform the “bathing” (neidan practice of regulating breath and gathering the spirit). Whether leaping or hiding, one must carefully guard the qi of central harmony.

The flying dragon ascends into the sky.

The five qi (qi of the Five Phases) assemble; the qi of Heaven and Earth unite; Yin and Yang balance—eight ounces of mercury, half a pound of lead. Hehe! The maiden gathers and settles; the infant receives from above.

At times it leaps upward; at times it hides in the deep abyss.

Use water to restrain fire and metal to overcome wood. At this stage one should perform the bathing. Whether leaping or hiding, one must carefully guard the qi of central harmony.

The flying dragon ascends into the sky.

The five qi assemble; the three flowers (jing, qi, and shen in neidan terminology) converge; wood and metal unite; lead and mercury stabilize. Hum! The flying dragon rises to heaven; clouds move and rain falls.

An overly exuberant dragon brings regret.

The body is purely yang; the six yang lines are complete. At this point one should cease firing the furnace—do not hesitate. Stop! If one cannot hold the state of fullness, excess and overreach will bring regret.

Treading on frost, one knows that hard ice is coming.

Yin qi has just begun to stir—do not act rashly; hold fast and guard carefully. Be precise! Guard against the small beginnings, as when stepping on thin frost one foreknows the approach of solid ice.

Upright and square, vast and without bias.

At the position of the second line (in the Zhouyi hexagram), one should gradually withdraw and conserve; yin occupies the correct place while yang remains hidden. In the hazy time of mist and fine rain, without forcing, benefit comes naturally.

Inner pattern holds refinement; one can keep to the correct way.

White snow congeals; the yellow sprout (neidan symbol of nascent elixir qi) emerges. Cherish and protect it; do not indulge the wandering heart. Gather yang qi, steady the furnace fire, and one may contain and hold to rectitude.

Tie the mouth of the bag tight, and fault can be avoided.

Mercury is about to scatter; lead is about to slip away. At this juncture one must guard with utmost care. Ah! It is like tying shut the mouth of a bottomless sack.

Wearing yellow garments—great good fortune.

The multitude of yin is exhausted; the elixir path is complete; essence condenses and primordial qi (yuanqi, pre-heaven vital energy) comes to rest. Zhuo! Gathering back into central yellow (the centered position), this is “yellow garments, supreme good fortune.”

Dragons battle in the wild.

After yin has hidden away, yang rises again; even here one must still defend. Be careful! If dragons fight in the open country, the blood of xuan and huang appears (symbolizing fierce contention of yin and yang).

Gathering back into central yellow is “yellow garments, supreme good fortune.”

Dragons battle in the wild.

After yin has hidden away, yang rises again; even here one must still defend. Be careful! If dragons fight in the open country, the blood of xuan and huang appears.

Nourishing and warming the spirit embryo.

Empty the heart, fill the belly, rest in quiet guarding, and await the return of yang qi. Yi! In an instant, the work of the celestial circuit is complete.

The mysterious pearl takes form and appears.

When the lid of the elixir cauldron is lifted and the elixir furnace overturned, it signifies that the work of refining the elixir is complete. At this point the Xuanzhu (the name in internal alchemy for what is subtle and perfectly round) has formed; one can then return to the root and restore life, embrace and guard the root, and come back to a state of emptiness and stillness.

The fifteen stanzas above are arranged according to the number “three-five.”

What the Dao calls the “Golden Elixir” is as firm as gold and as round as a pill, and the more it is refined the brighter it becomes. Hence Golden Elixir is used as a metaphor for original nature; the elixir furnace, the cauldron, and the “medicinals” are likewise figures drawn from alchemy.

Stanza:

Elixir

From antiquity this thing has had neither form nor substance; it neither increases nor decreases, neither ceases nor breaks off.

In its operation it is as hard and sharp as gold, as luminous as the sun. Buddhists call it the “Xuanzhu (mysterious pearl)”; Confucians call it “Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)”; Daoists call it the “Golden Elixir.” The names are three, but what they point to is one and the same—it is right before your eyes, only ordinary people do not recognize it. To understand this is enough; there is no need for further doubt.

(Illustration of the Golden Elixir clearly revealed—diagram missing in the original.)

The mind has no form or substance; it neither increases nor decreases, neither ceases nor breaks off.

In its operation it is as hard and sharp as gold, as luminous as the sun. Buddhists call it the Xuanzhu; Confucians call it Taiji; Daoists call it the Golden Elixir. The names are three, but what they point to is one and the same—it is right before your eyes, only ordinary people do not recognize it. To understand this is enough; there is no need for further doubt.

(Illustration of the Golden Elixir clearly revealed—diagram missing in the original.)

The mind diagram and the nine quatrains clarify that the “root of life” (ming ben) is the function of internal alchemy practice; the commentary and stanzas make clear that “nature” (xing) is the elixir itself.

1. Commencing practice

When you first begin practice and lay the foundation of the elixir, do not get tied up in calculating the hours of zi and wu and the like. In stillness and fixation, the moment a single thought first stirs—that is the time when “gui water” is newly born.

Elixir

Take care not to mistake spring flowers and autumn moons, peach blossom and plum blossom, the fierce heat of summer, or snow in winter for signs of refining the elixir. What is summer really like? That cannot be put into words. Ah—no need to doubt further.

In the twelfth month, plum buds hold jade-like blossoms; in frosty skies, chrysanthemums put forth golden flowers. When the wind rises, listen to the roaring of waves; when the moon climbs, watch the surge of the tide.

2. Establishing the furnace

Outward form may be compared to furnace and cauldron; inward “medicinals” may be compared to ingredients. If you can sincerely gather and settle them in place, the spirit embryo will coalesce quickly.

Elixir

Plant hemp and you get hemp. Only through Wuwei (non-action)—not forcing or contriving—can the cauldron be set up; use the method without form to install furnace and cauldron so they stand firm, without deliberately applying effort. Ha! Between emptiness and non-emptiness, cook the supreme treasure: in Wuwei there is nowhere to refine, yet the true suchness can be refined to completion.

White snow has not yet bloomed, yet yellow sprouts have already set fruit. For the “infant” within (in internal alchemy, the symbol of a newly formed elixir embryo) to be generated, you must first bring the “Radiant Maid” (symbolizing mercury, the mind-spirit, or yin vital essence) to stillness.

Mercury is to be gathered toward the southern mountain; lead is to be sought from the northern sea. Kun earth (the yin power of bearing and harmonizing) blends them; Qian metal (the yang power of firmness and restraint) subdues them.

On which peak do you seek mercury? In which seabed do you find lead? Chasing externals is like fishing for the moon in water or hunting heaven under the earth—effort wasted. Alas, if you do not know where the true seed lies, you only burn and refine in vain. You must enter the sea to seize the dragon, apply your skill to capture sun and moon, then send them into the cauldron to refine, until at last you refine an elixir pure as snow.

The firing phases are not many or obscure; the crux lies in wisdom and firmness. Wood and metal (the paired yin-yang elements in neidan practice) must stay united throughout, and the supreme treasure grows ever brighter.

Do not let dazzled eyes mislead you. The means that succeed depend on a will as firm as iron and stone.

The firing phases are not many or obscure; the crux lies in wisdom and firmness. Wood and metal must stay united throughout, and the supreme treasure grows ever brighter.

Do not let dazzled eyes mislead you. The decisive means that truly count depend on a will as firm as iron and stone. Raise the ball of doubt and cut hesitation clean away. “Literary” cultivation is like carrying a pregnancy; “martial” refining is like begging for food—both images for different styles of exertion in practice.

When you can wield “Burning Mountain Fire” and “Scraping Earth Wind” (names of tonifying and reducing methods in classical acupuncture, here standing for shifts in firing), the misty clouds are swept away and only a vivid round red sun remains.

If the fire is too fierce, furnace and cauldron cannot stay steady; if too much lead is loaded, the cauldron is endangered too. In everything hold the center and avoid extremes; then the elixir you refine will not be drained away.

Going too far falls short of the mark; knowing how to compound is inferior to knowing how to apply; pouring more in is inferior to leaking less out.

Keep a constant guard; do not take what is not yours—is that clear? Goods ill stored invite thieves; looks and bearing too showy may invite lust and harm.

Shut the door and sit quietly within, and outward calamities naturally lessen. What is hardest to guard is private desire and wandering thought, so you cannot treat yourself as safe and slacken restraint.

When temperament is settled, golden sand (the neidan term for the medicine or elixir body) congeals; when the mind is empty and clear, the red child (the symbol of pure, unstained inner life) takes shape. You must go on with warm nurturing; when the time comes to draw it forth, its light appears of itself.

Shut the door and sit quietly within, and outward calamities naturally lessen. What is hardest to guard is private desire and wandering thought, so you cannot treat yourself as safe and leave yourself unchecked.

When temperament is settled, golden sand congeals; when the mind is empty and clear, the red child takes shape. You must go on with warm nurturing; when the time comes to draw it forth, its light appears of itself.

Hold fast and do the work of warm nurturing, as a hen broods her egg, guarding it at every moment. A slight slip in practice can put the outcome far off course; observe closely, stand firm in your footing, and open the heart as well.

To nurture and support this child, one must rely on the “speechless grandmother” (the inner power that tends silently); if there is the slightest lapse in watching over it, the child will vanish in an instant, like a hawk flying over Silla.

Seven: Tuning the Spirit (Diaoshen)

When Qi (vital energy) is full, the “infant” undergoes transformation. Guidance and support depend entirely on the “mother” (the force that nourishes and protects the fruits of practice); in raising and training, one must grasp the overall principle—then coming and going will not be obstructed.

Elixir (Dan)

If there is movement upon movement, one must suffer thirty blows of the rod. When one reaches the realm of “going out while entering into non-being,” one can move freely in every direction.

Releasing and gathering are both vast and unobstructed; one can be as fine as dust and as expansive as filling the whole heaven.

When the “red infant” (the mature Yang Spirit, Yuanshen, of inner alchemy) passes through the Celestial Pass, it can travel back and forth at will; it must also journey to the eight extremities of the distant realm—in the blink of an eye crossing three immortal mountains.

Eight: Shedding the Embryo (Tuotai)

When practice is complete and merit fulfilled, spiritual efficacy and marvelous function cannot be measured; coming and going are without hindrance, and in deep samadhi one can even pay homage to the Vacuous Sovereign (Xuhuang, a exalted deity of the Daoist heavens).

Elixir (Dan)

The feet settle first; the root precedes branch and shoot. The seed forms after the flower; when the flower falls, the seed ripens. Its lifespan is as long as the clouds and sky.

Only when the stone splits does jade appear; only by washing sand does one obtain gold. When the water is clear, the fish naturally show; when clouds disperse, moonlight shines bright.

Nine: Completion (Liaodang)

Overturn the cauldron that would burn heaven, capsize the furnace that would boil the sea; shatter even empty space, and only the true nature stands revealed.

Elixir (Dan)

House and estate are ruined, affairs and people perish—at the end there is only one “completion”: everything is finished, clear and pure, fully manifest.

Suddenly something rises from the void—Ha! A single-horned fire dragon ascends to the sky, startling a spring thunderclap like rolling thunder.

Completion.

Elixir (Dan)

House and estate are ruined, affairs and people perish—at the end there is only one “completion”: everything is finished, clear and pure, fully manifest.

Suddenly something rises from the void—Ha! A single-horned fire dragon ascends to the sky, startling a spring thunderclap like rolling thunder.

True “completion” is thorough resolution; afterward nothing remains, and there is no so-called emptiness either. Clarity, non-being, and resolution ultimately return to one body; body-mind and vast empty space merge without distinction.

Commentary: Perfect Enlightenment (Yuanjue)

Direct Pointing to the Heart Sutra (Xinjing Zhizhi)

Layman Qing’an had long devoted himself to the Prajna Paramita Heart Sutra. One day he came to visit me and asked me to explain its meaning. I said: “This sutra has not yet been opened for exposition, and its meaning is already clear—why add explanations? If one insists on attaching commentaries, it is like putting another head on top of a head.” Jian’an said: “That is indeed so. But beginners cannot yet deeply grasp the sutra’s meaning, and the explanations of various schools differ, so those who study the sutra cannot avoid doubt. I hope the teacher, in compassion, will dispel my confusion.”

I said: “When the World-Honored One (a respectful title for the Buddha) taught this sutra, it was to guide sentient beings and point directly to its profound essential meaning. From beginning to end, what is said never departs from the single word empty. The sutra repeatedly admonishes and explains so that learners may easily understand. Yet later people became attached to words—some clinging to form, others clinging to the idea of emptiness—and never could penetrate the deep meaning. Masters of earlier generations had no choice but to write commentaries and set up various skillful means, teaching according to the person, so that people of the world each entered by their own understanding. This was because they painstakingly exhorted, yet it could also make those of higher capacity more doubtful. As the saying goes: those of middling or lower capacity cannot all at once be spoken to of the most profound teaching.”

“Now doubt arises in your mind and you come seeking resolution—this very mind is the root of awakening. I can only say a few words more; please listen carefully.”

“Maha prajna means great wisdom; paramita means reaching the other shore; heart refers to one’s original nature; sutra means path. Taken together, it is reaching the other shore by means of great wisdom. This is the method of seeing one’s nature (realizing one’s original nature), and also the direct path that all can walk. The way of practice lies right in daily life and in every act.”

“Guan (contemplation) means constantly using the mind to look inward and be aware, never forgetting, without letting it break off. Practicing thus for a long time until it is fully mature, one attains great ease and freedom (unconstrained, unobstructed penetration).”

The mnemonic for contemplation must be examined earnestly at every moment: keep the mind anchored here and do not let that attention break off. When practice matures over time, one can attain great ease—unobstructed passage—and no longer be bound by the transformations of creation and decay; hence it is said, “When the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara was practicing the profound prajñāpāramitā”: that is, when one is deeply cultivating this path. When effort is deep and strength full, wisdom can reach complete clarity, merge with the original Way, enter the sudden-complete realization, and transcend the ranks of ordinary and sage—this is called “reaching the other shore.”

At that point one can “see that the five skandhas are all empty”—contemplate that the five constituents of body-mind experience (form, feeling, perception, formations, consciousness) have no independent, unchanging substance. Once the five skandhas are empty, what fixed reality can there be in the myriad appearances? Therefore one can “cross beyond all distress” and be freed from every kind of hardship.

“Śāriputra” is here glossed as “the choicest seed within gold”; “putra” (child) is like the master of the house, pointing to the pure dharmakāya—the unstained original body. The scripture says: “Form is not different from emptiness; emptiness is not different from form. Form is exactly emptiness; emptiness is exactly form. Feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness are likewise.” Earlier it said the five skandhas are all empty; here “form” is explained as “the choicest seed within the dwelling.” “The empty character of all dharmas” is of one substance with empty space; through countless kalpas it is not destroyed—this is “neither arising nor ceasing”: no coming or going. “Neither defiled nor pure”: no clinging stain. “Neither increasing nor decreasing”: nothing surplus or lacking.

Therefore within emptiness there is no form, and no feeling, perception, formations, or consciousness; no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, or mind (the six sense faculties), and no form, sound, scent, taste, touch, or dharmas (the six objects). This means that emptiness originally has no fixed shape; if the five skandhas have no substance, how could the six consciousnesses exist at all?

The six objects and consciousness arise when faculties such as the eye contact the external world: with the sphere of the eye come the five skandhas; with the five skandhas come the six faculties; with the six faculties come the six consciousnesses; with the six consciousnesses come the six objects. Hence “no sphere of the eye”—and with that, objects and consciousness cannot be established either; and so on through “no sphere of mind-consciousness” (no realm of mental consciousness). “Mind-consciousness realm” here refers to what was called above the eighteen realms.

Without this discriminating consciousness, there is no avidyā (fundamental ignorance and confusion), and thus no “exhaustion of avidyā” to speak of. “No exhaustion of avidyā” means avidyā does not arise; but if one flatly denies even “exhaustion of avidyā,” one falls into rigid emptiness (treating emptiness as sheer nothingness or dead stillness).

The Danshu says: “Stopping restless thoughts is nurturing the elixir fire (danshuo).” That is precisely the point. “Avidya” (non-knowing, ignorance) is the root of sentient beings’ turning in birth and death. The Danshu also says: “Where a thought arises is the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin)—the subtle gateway that nurtures the ten thousand things; the gate of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth.” Is that not likewise the root of birth and death?

Therefore the scripture says: without avidya, there is no old age and death, nor the cessation of old age and death; there are no suffering, origin, cessation, and path (the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism), no wisdom and no ignorance, nothing gained and nothing lost. This means that mind and the myriad dharmas are ultimately empty. To see that the mind-dharma is originally empty is called “bodhi” (awakening); to see that all dharmas are originally empty is called “sattva” (a sentient being). Beginners who practice in accord with “Prajnaparamita” (the perfection of wisdom that leads to ultimate insight) can make the inner mind free of attachment and obstruction; this is entering the formless from the formed, passing from the coarse to the subtle, opening great wisdom and dispelling ignorance, constantly preserving purity, and returning to the original state. When cultivation reaches its fullest extreme, the mind is like the great void—open, penetrating, without blockage.

When there is no obstruction, there is no fear, and one can distance oneself from inverted delusion. Delusion is the manifestation of dullness and confusion; when confusion no longer holds sway, the dharmakaya (the pure, true nature) appears in clarity, and thus one can reach ultimate nirvana (complete quiescent liberation). Buddhas of the three times (past, present, and future) and patriarchs through the ages all cultivated relying on prajnaparamita and realized “anuttara-samyak-sambodhi” (unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening). Those who truly practice Buddhism in later ages should also cultivate in this way, opening the six kinds of wisdom, purifying the inner mind, returning to the origin, and thereby realizing unsurpassed, orthodox, true, equal, and perfect enlightenment.

From this we can know that “Prajnaparamita” is one of the four mantras; “Maha” means “great divine mantra.” The scripture further connects it with the “fourfold solid body” (the body composed of the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind) and with miraculous powers, and says that through this one realizes unsurpassed, orthodox, true, equal, and perfect awakening.

From this we can see that “Prajnaparamita” (reaching the other shore through wisdom) carries four meanings as mantra: “Maha” is the “great divine mantra”—the four great elements (earth, water, fire, and wind that make up body and the myriad things) solidify into form, and their spiritual transformations are hard to fathom; “Prajna” is the “great bright mantra”—wisdom complete and penetrating, refined yet luminous; “Para” is the “supreme mantra”—accord with one’s original face, the highest dharma gate; “Mita” is the “unequaled mantra”—perfection at the utmost, with no higher realm. Understanding these four mantra meanings removes all suffering; this is truly not empty falsehood. Therefore the World-Honored One’s “Prajnaparamita mantra” explains the meaning of the four lines of mantra above.

“Gate” points to emptiness of person (not clinging to a fixed, unchanging “self”); saying “gate” again points to emptiness of dharmas (not clinging to fixed self-nature in the ten thousand dharmas). “Gate gate paragate” is reaching the other shore with mind and all dharmas empty; “parasamgate” is having reached the other shore and no longer needing the ferry-boat. These four lines of the Gate mantra correspond to the four great elements in the body. When the four great elements are all empty, the nature of true constancy appears—this is emptiness of dharmas. “Gate gate paragate” is mind and all dharmas empty together reaching the other shore; “parasamgate” is reaching the other shore and no longer needing the boat. The four lines of the Gate mantra are also the four great elements within the body; when the four great elements are all empty, the nature of true constancy appears, hence “Bodhi svaha.” “Bodhi” means beginning, “svaha” means end; from start to finish without break is guarding the root and returning to emptiness, transcending and returning to the Buddha’s realm.

Though the teaching is passed on this way, Ji’an held that the crux is to straighten the spine and gather the gaze, and not miss the present opportunity. If in daily affairs one constantly meets the trigger and awakens, and recognizes one’s original face, then one will trust that this sutra’s principle is not obtained from outside. Not only this scroll of the Heart Sutra—even the full canon of Buddhist and Daoist classics and the teachings of the hundred schools: with one shout of awakening one can grasp them through from beginning to end. If one cannot yet do so, continue investigating the “○” circle—this is the point; do not doubt further.

Here Confucian and Buddhist reasoning are borrowed to verify Daoist principle, so students see that the three teachings were originally one path and do not set them against each other.

Yinfu Jing: Here “Yinfu” is explained as the mechanism of yin and yang joining—also the principle everyone shares in common.

Observing the Way of Heaven: the various signs that appear in the sky foretell fortune and misfortune, and the sage takes them as his standard. To grasp the patterns by which the Way of Heaven operates, to follow the changes of heaven and earth and take them as models, is to have said all that need be said about the essentials of the Way of Heaven.

The “Five Thieves” refer to the five Qi—the five kinds of vital breath that constitute and circulate through all things. The five Qi both bring things into being and bring them to ruin. Whoever sees this clearly can flourish. “Perceive that the five aggregates are empty, and cross beyond all suffering” borrows a Buddhist line to mean: see through the fact that the five aggregates that make up body and mind have no fixed self-nature, and one can transcend every kind of distress. The mechanism of the Five Thieves dwells in the heart; when enacted in accord with Heaven, one does not violate heavenly principle.

That the turning of the cosmos seems to lie in the palm of the hand is because one can grasp the Way of Heaven; that the transformations of the myriad things seem to spring from oneself is because heaven and earth and I communicate. What Heaven bestows on human beings is “nature” (xing); when the human heart sets artifice in motion, that is called “mechanism” (ji). Establish the norm of the Way of Heaven, and it can be used to settle and transform the human heart.

When Heaven releases the killing impulse, it is not intentional; therefore within destruction there is also the seed of life—the crux is whether one can perceive it. Dragon and serpent lie hidden or stir abroad; in a state of stillness and freedom from desire, they can meet the moment and rise with the trend. When human beings release the killing impulse, it is the heart actively issuing change, making what was hidden come to light. Heaven and earth turn and return; the wondrous workings of mechanism are hard to fathom. When heavenly mechanism and human mechanism join, one can establish a foundation amid ten thousand transformations.

Human nature differs in quickness and dullness—that is how things differ from one another; if one does not cling to distinctions of clever and clumsy, one can gather oneself inward and lie concealed. If one of the nine orifices loses its guard, the others will be invaded by harm as well.