《中和集》Vol. 5

Where does one begin with the Dao? Unless you grasp the “Great Image”—the fundamental image of the Great Dao—you cannot truly reach the Great Dao. The Supreme Old Lord said: “Hold fast to the Dao, and all under heaven will turn to it; having turned to it, they will be free from harm, secure and at peace.” The Dao is like fine food that makes travelers stop and taste it—yet when put into words it seems flat and flavorless.

If you treat the Dao as something you can grasp through color, sound, and other sense objects, you are dealing with things that arise and perish and will eventually be exhausted. The Dao, spoken of, has no savor; looked at, it cannot be seen; listened to, it cannot be heard—yet in use it is never used up. How deep the sage’s words are! Whoever truly takes this in can avoid being trapped by appearances, penetrate the myriad phenomena, and directly release discrimination and attachment, until the mind is clear, empty, and still—hearing the greatest sound in silence, discerning the greatest form in the formless. Then body and spirit can both be refined, and one merges with the Dao in truth.

Alas, many who study the Dao today do not seek the intent their teachers transmit; they guess from their own ideas—some cling to literary structure, others fixate on individual phrases—so the sage’s purpose in writing the classics is obscured. In this scripture some passages carry no commentary, and misunderstanding often follows.

They do not see that as soon as one opens the mouth, meaning can diverge utterly; once you say “the Dao that can be spoken,” what you speak is not the eternal Dao; once you name the Dao, what you name is not the eternal name. Then, if the eternal Dao cannot be spoken, are not the more than five thousand words of the Daodejing still speaking of the Dao? If the eternal name cannot be named, is the title Daodejing not itself a name? Ah—the Dao cannot be fully expressed in words, yet “the Dao that cannot be spoken” itself points toward the Dao; names cannot be fixed forever, yet “the unnameable” can still function as a kind of naming. Whoever sees this clearly can bring the work of studying and practicing the Dao to completion.

If you have not yet understood, you will inevitably follow others’ opinions: the benevolent see the Dao through benevolence, the wise through wisdom; the common people use the Dao every day without knowing they are using it. Thus few truly grasp the sage’s Dao.

Master Qing'an spared no effort in speaking plainly to all of you through this volume of scripture. Scripture is like a sheet of old paper that cannot be wiped clean; since it is old paper, what use are five thousand-plus characters? They serve only to point at what cannot be put into words. It is like a great physician treating illness: he prescribes according to the ailment; when the illness is cured, the medicine is no longer needed. Once one has grasped the constant Dao, those five thousand-plus characters likewise cease to be necessary. Whoever sees it this way understands: what can be spoken and named is only the margin of the Dao; what cannot be spoken and cannot be named is the mystery of the Dao.

Where there is name, there is the function of the Dao; where there is no name, there is the substance of the Dao. No name is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; name is the mother of the ten thousand things. These two issue from the same Dao yet bear different names—both may be called mystery. Within mystery lies deeper mystery still: the gateway to manifold depths. If one can start from the named margin and thereby reach the nameless mystery, one has truly understood the constant Dao. Unless one is the most empty and still person under Heaven, who could do this?

All of you, hear me, Qing'an, to this point: Am I speaking, or not speaking? All of you, having heard this far: Have you heard, or not heard? Good friends—those with wisdom who can grasp Buddhist and Daoist meaning—only if you can be as though you had not heard yet truly have heard will you understand this wordless teaching of Qing'an. Then the intent of the sage in writing the classic becomes clear: the first line already says the whole truth; there is no need for further doubt.

Someone asked: “If the Dao cannot be spoken and names cannot be fixed, is today’s great dharma assembly not superfluous?” The answer: “It is not so. The teaching that Supreme Venerable Sovereign descended on the fifteenth day of the second month is not meant to insist that he was literally born then; it uses that occasion to display the principle of unceasing generation and growth. I celebrate the Sovereign’s birth today precisely to clarify the intent of that opening line—how could that be meddling? What remains to doubt?”

At the outset, everyone has already spoken one sentence—so what should the final sentence be? Alas! This mouth born of my parents can never fully speak the Dao through for me. Step down from the seat; dismiss the assembly for meditation.

The master said: “Look at it and you do not see it—this is called ‘xi’ (rare/invisible); listen for it and you do not hear it—this is called ‘yi’ (inaudible); grasp it and you do not get hold of it—this is called ‘wei’ (subtle). These three cannot be pursued to the bottom.” He continued: “I wonder—‘invisible, hence xi’—is that because it has no color? ‘Inaudible, hence yi’—is that because it has no sound? ‘Intangible, hence wei’—is that because it has no form?”

He raised his whisk and asked, “Do you see it?” He struck once and asked, “Do you hear it? If you take this as what the eyes see and the ears hear, you still lack the eye of one who engages in study; if you say it is not seeing and hearing, you likewise still lack that eye. How do you understand it?”

Heyan stepped forward and said, “You see color yet do not cling to color; you hear sound yet do not treat it as sound. When the form-body has no place of obstruction, you can personally arrive at the citadel of the Dharma King (the realm where practitioners of the Way realize awakening).”

The master said, “Set the words down.” Heyan raised his fist and said, “Watch me throw a punch.” The master asked, “When you hear this, does it still count as seeing with the eyes and hearing with the ears?” Heyan replied, “Strike empty space and it too gives a sound.” The master asked, “Anything else?” Heyan said, “Wait until you can hide the great elephant in what has no form and hide a thunderous voice in what is fine and silent—then come meet me again.” Heyan answered “Yes,” bowed, and withdrew.

The master raised his staff and said, “The mud ox pants toward the moon; the wooden horse neighs into the wind. It seems to be there, yet when you seek it there is no trace. Qing’an’s staff can draw the wondrous high peak (a towering summit—here standing for the vastest realm) upside down.” He added, “One word out of the mouth is already wrong—why bother lifting it up and presenting it? Alas! If you think that beneath this staff you can grasp the original intent of the Xu Huang (the supreme numinous sovereign honored in Daoism), you are still far off. Why? The finest action leaves no rut; it seems to exist, yet when you seek it there is no trace.”

Those who are skilled at walking leave neither wheel tracks nor footprints; those skilled at speech utter no fault in their words; those skilled at planning need no tallies or counting rods; those skilled at shutting need no bolt, yet no one can open what they have closed; those skilled at binding need no rope, yet no one can loosen what they have bound.

A verse says: One steps yet does not rely on the foot; one grasps things yet does not rely on the hand; when one touches the tip of the nose, it is as if the whole body were a mouth. If you can investigate this point with care, the forty-nine are originally one single whole. If you can grasp its meaning, you will know that when the Supreme Venerable (Taishang) expounded this scripture, in truth he never opened his mouth.

Qing’an raised his staff but did not move his hand. If you still do not understand, for now apply yourself within sound and color—the realm of what is heard and seen—and see who can grasp it. You must not speak; you must not move your hand; you must come forth from the realm of sound and color to meet. Whether you can put it into words or cannot, you will still receive the staff.

Layman Huang came forward. Qing’an asked again: “In your earnest investigation, who can grasp it? You must not speak; you must not move your hand; you must come forth from the realm of sound and color to meet. Whether you can put it into words or cannot, you will still receive the staff.” Just as Huang was about to speak, an attendant said, “You must not speak.” After a long pause he stamped his foot once. Qing’an said, “You are still one layer short.” Huang cleared his throat with a cough. Qing’an said, “You are still eight quarters too late.”

Ding’an came forward, bowed, and said, “Please, Master, raise the matter once more.” Qing’an said, “You must not speak.” Ding’an clenched his fist and held it up. Qing’an said again, “You must not move your hand.” Ding’an let out a shout. Qing’an said, “There is still a meaning on a higher level behind this.” Ding’an asked, “What else is there?” Qing’an said, “Those seated below at this moment would do best to realize it for themselves in silence.” Qing’an stepped down from the seat; Ding’an followed behind him. Qing’an seized him and asked, “Where are you going?” Ding’an said, “There is nowhere to go.” Qing’an said, “Going like this—for now, can you avoid the staff?” Ding’an bowed in thanks.

From Record of Qing’an Zi’s Questions and Answers, fascicle four, compiled by his disciple Ning’an Deng Decheng.

In Weiyang (the Yangzhou region), the master composed a quatrain and asked his disciples to supply the next line, saying: “Whoever continues in a way that fits the meaning may advance one step further in cultivation.”

The master said: “It has no form and no shadow, and no name; from antiquity to the present it has upheld heaven and earth. Just as Qing’an [Clear Hermitage, a disciple’s style] was about to reveal it…” Ding’an [Settled Hermitage] continued: “The great thousand worlds all turn to gold.” Wu’an [No Hermitage / Trackless Hermitage] continued: “It is deep and leaves no trace; there is nowhere to seek it at all.” Fu’an [Again Hermitage] continued: “If you wish to know where to begin, seek it in meditative absorption.” Hei’an [Hey Hermitage] continued: “In transformation it becomes the great earth, and the great earth turns to gold.” Yue’an [Moon Hermitage] continued: “Emptiness is utterly shattered, and no trace remains to be found.” The master said: “Apart from Wu’an, the rest are all judged the same and receive punishment.”

The master said again: “The qian cauldron and golden furnace refine sun and moon; the handle of the Big Dipper turns the celestial pivot; chaos is split open, and the Golden Elixir is complete.” Ding’an continued: “A burst of perfect radiance illuminates the whole world.” Wu’an continued: “Embracing the infant, one goes to pay homage at Ziwei [the Purple Forbidden Palace—the celestial abode of the emperor, also the northern circumpolar region].” Xi’an [Former Hermitage] continued: “One ascends straight to the cinnabar heavens without needing a ladder.” Fu’an continued: “Having taken the elixir, one rides a phoenix to Taiwei [a celestial palace].” Hei’an continued: “Recognize that single point of light in the heart.” Su’an [Plain Hermitage] continued: “Release the light and return to the Supreme Beginning [Taiji—the primordial state before differentiation].”

After reading everyone’s lines carefully, the master said: “All of your pieces still fall short; only Hei’an is slightly better.”

The master said again: “With one step I tread over the Formless Realm [the Buddhist heavens without visible form]; lifting my head I bump against Daluo Heaven [the highest Daoist heaven]. Someone asks where I make my home.” Ding’an continued: “Passing through the vajra-indestructible, unobstructed realm.” Wu’an continued: “A single precious pearl holds the entire great thousand worlds.” Fu’an continued: “Hidden before heaven and earth were yet divided.” Hei’an continued: “Originally thus—neither added to nor subtracted from.” Yue’an continued: “Right here, before one’s eyebrows and eyelashes.” The master said: “Ding’an answered best; Fu’an comes next.”

The master said: “Through countless kalpas it has always been a single precious pearl—hard as raw iron, soft as fresh curd. In the whole great thousand worlds there is not one place where it can be lodged.”

Ding’an said, “It embraces the patterns of creation and transformation throughout heaven and earth.” Wu’an said, “If beyond the Dao there were only empty void, it could not cover everything.” Fu’an said, “Shine through the void completely, and in the end there is nothing at all.” Pu’an said, “See it with perfect clarity, yet when you seek it to the end you still find nothing.” Hai’an said, “It fills the void entirely; nowhere is it not present.” Aishan said, “Boundless clear light illumines the Great Void.”

The Master said, “None of these sayings fully exhaust the matter; only Ding’an and Hai’an come somewhat close.” The Master added, “Fixating on non-being or fixating on being is not true cultivation effort; if you cast off both sides together, you fall into empty void all the same. Seek to the end and there is still nothing.”

Hai’an said, “It fills the void entirely; nowhere is it not present.” Aishan said, “Boundless clear light illumines the Great Void.” The Master said, “These sayings still do not say it all; only Ding’an and Hai’an are somewhat apt.” The Master added, “Fixating on non-being or fixating on being is not gongfu; casting off both sides also lands you in empty void. To speak only of being and non-being can never fully state the Dao.”

Ding’an said, “True being at first dimly appears from within non-being.” Hai’an said, “Only when it is neither non-being nor being is one thoroughly and completely penetrating.” Wu’an said, “Only when it is neither non-being nor being can miraculous efficacy appear.” Fu’an said, “Only when one is one with the Great Void is the Dao penetrated.” The Master said, “These formulations all draw somewhat near.” I then said, “Better to silently guard what is within.”

The Master said, “It is perfectly round without lack, circle upon circle, already there before heaven and earth were divided; without stem or root, and nothing by which to grasp it.” Ding’an said, “Only then do you understand—this moment is the true pointing.” Hai’an said, “It is right before your eyes; in every use it is whole and complete.” Wu’an said, “You should know: when the moon sets, it has not left the sky.” Fu’an said, “Within stillness without movement, one can awaken to the true principle.” The Master said, “Hai’an’s line may be taken up.”

Hai’an said, “It is right before your eyes; in every use it is whole and complete.” Wu’an said, “You should know: when the moon sets, it has not left the sky.” Fu’an said, “Within stillness without movement, one can awaken to the true principle.” The Master said, “Hai’an’s line may be taken up.”

The Master said, “Above it props up heaven, below it supports earth, yet in the middle there is a single aperture through which breath does not pass; look for it and you cannot see it, listen and you cannot hear it.” Ding’an said, “When eating and putting on clothes, it is never dim or confused.” Hai’an said, “However you apply it, you never depart from it.” Wu’an said, “It fills the whole void; even spirits and ghosts revere it.” Sun’an said, “Then how is it any different from empty void?” The Master said, “Ding’an’s reply may be taken up.”

The Master also said, “Raise the cauldron and burn dry the four great seas; set the furnace and refine the five Mount Merus to dust. After the golden elixir (jindan) is perfected, its form embraces the three realms.” Here “cauldron,” “furnace,” and “golden elixir” are symbolic language of Neidan (internal alchemy): the practitioner takes body and mind as furnace and vessel and refines and nurtures jing, qi, and shen; “the four great seas,” “the five Merus,” and “the three realms” express its boundless vastness.

Ding'an said: "This is precisely when a man has realized his aim and shows what he can do." Wu'an said: "The Great Dao is originally Wuwei (non-action); here deliberate action is used only as a figure of speech." He'an said: "This is the moment before Heaven and Earth had taken shape." Qing'an said: "It is exactly the time of leaving the ordinary world and entering the sacred realm."

The master said: "Of these, Ding'an's line is the finest." At that time the master was at the Zhaoyang Four Sages Daoist Academy, cultivating wisdom with all the disciples. This passage is now appended here as a supplement.

The master said: “Dip the brush tip— and the rivers and lakes would run dry; grind the ink stick— and the great earth seems about to be pierced through. With this single stroke, fill the entire void.” Heyan said: “It shrouds past and present, spreading like mist and clouds.” Xian said: “The brush tip reveals the original heaven.” Tuiyan said: “This one stroke opens the realm before one’s parents were ever born.” Jingyan said: “Beyond this subtle realm, nothing is more subtle.” The master said: “Jingyan’s and Tuiyan’s words still fall short. If Tuiyan’s line were changed to ‘before primordial chaos had yet divided,’ it would be finer still.”

The master said: “In the tiny hermitage hides a tiny moon— outsiders are not allowed a glimpse; when night comes, it opens a mouth that swallows the sky.” Heyan said: “Inside is full of cinnabar; the furnace fire burns bright.” Jingyan said: “Only after chewing it to pieces do you know bitter from sweet.” Tuiyan said: “The great earth and all mountains and rivers lie hidden beneath the tongue.” Yiyan said: “One open mouth, and the sky is swallowed whole.” Heyan said: “Inside is full of cinnabar; the furnace fire burns bright.” Jingyan said: “Only after chewing it to pieces do you know bitter from sweet.” Tuiyan said: “The great earth and all mountains and rivers lie hidden beneath the tongue.” Yiyan said: “This is ghee— there is another kind of sweetness besides.” The master said: “These sayings all still miss by a hair. As for me, I say: swallow heaven and earth, and still it is not enough.”

The master said: “The poor man this year is poor to the extreme— his form is haggard, his poverty without end.” Heyan said: “Only the Golden Elixir (Jindan) is unchanged from ancient times.” Jiyan said: “Sweep body and mind utterly clean— not a speck of dust remains.” Yinyan said: “Bare and without ties— that is the original mind.” Xuyan said: “Strip away the outer shell, and the original heart appears.” Xian said: “Refine to the end, and heaven and earth turn to gold.” Weiyan said: “Only when the whole body has become purple gold.” Prefect Ding said: “Only one pellet of divine elixir is true gold.” The master said: “None of these is right.” Someone answered: “The house is ruined, the people are gone— the heart too is dead.”

The master said: “Last night the Yellow Woman (Huangpo, the image in Neidan that harmonizes Yin-Yang and links the viscera) conceived the infant; when the infant was just born, its form was exceedingly subtle— yet even in chaos, it could no longer be hidden.” Someone said: “It returns to the moment before Wuji (the undifferentiated root state).” Xian said: “Return again to the millet grain (Neidan image for an inner realm tiny yet charged with mystery), and you can grasp the hidden pivot.” The master said: “None of these hit the mark.” Someone answered: “Beyond the Great Void, the Big Dipper turns.”

The master said: “Listening to sutras and the Dharma was never easy to get right; leaving the gate of the Dharma to seek mystery is wrong too; neither leaving the Dharma nor listening— that is equally mistaken. Be silent.” Someone answered: “Beyond the Great Void, the Big Dipper turns.”

The Master said: “To listen to the scriptures and receive the teachings is inherently difficult to accomplish fully; yet to leave the classics and teachings behind in pursuit of the mysterious is also wrong. Neither leaving the teachings nor being willing to listen—both are mistaken.”

He Yan said: “Overturn and demolish everything—only then is the work complete.” Xi Yan said: “When hungry, eat; when tired, sleep.” The Master said: “These sayings are all incomplete.” The assembly replied: “Grasping the Middle Way is not easy—this is the true principle.”

The Master said: “The skill of standing atop the pole is hard to finish. To go one step further, how should one move the heel? If one does not move the heel, how can one arrive?” He Yan said: “The subtle principle of the higher level is hard to express in words.”

The Master said: “Open the heavenly fontanel at the crown of the head, and one may pay homage to Yuanshi Tianzun (the primordial celestial worthy, often abbreviated as ‘Yuan’).”

The Master also said: “In seated meditation, with eyes open, it is hard to attain the Dao; with eyes closed, one falls into yin stagnation. Neither closing nor opening the eyes—such a person is truly muddled.” He Yan said: “When the whole body is eyes, that is my kindred spirit.” Ji Yan said: “Open one eye and see clearly.” The Master said: “When the gate of the crown (the spiritual aperture at the top of the head) has the wisdom eye, one can see the Heart of Heaven (the inner heart of the Way).”

The Master said: “If one takes the land route, one trudges all the way; if one takes the water route, one falls into ditches and pits. Without taking these two paths, how can one attain the Dao?” He Yan said: “A slap straight in the face—truly without mercy.” Xi Yan said: “The Middle Way is originally broad and level.” The Master said: “Xi Yan’s saying comes somewhat closer. As for me, I say: ride the wind home to pay homage to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the collective title of the supreme Daoist deities).”

The Master said: “The gateless barrier (Wuguan—the pass with no gate, a metaphor for the barrier of cultivation) is not hard to investigate. If you say it has no gate, then there is no barrier; since there is no barrier, what is there to open?” He Yan said: “Who knows what difficulty there is in the old nest and den?” Xi Yan said: “One punch shatters it—the knot of doubt runs through.” Xu Yan said: “Without moving a single step, one arrives at Chang’an.” The Master said: “Xu Yan’s words are worth taking.”

The master said: “When sitting in meditation the mind is full of turbid thoughts—that is all yin. When the head finally clears, one still falls into discriminating consciousness. Neither scattered nor drowsy, seeming just right, yet still mired in worldly dust.”

Heyan said: “Play the zither and the phoenix comes; the mind naturally becomes pure.” Yian said: “When every thought has dissolved, the Golden Elixir is complete.” Dongan said: “Emptiness, stillness, and void—the root lies in sincere heart.” Jing’an said: “Let the whole body drop away, and one naturally penetrates the subtle.”

The master said: “These sayings still fall a little short.” The assembly replied: “Only by teaching people to be at ease can brightness show itself.”

The master said: “When practice reaches deep obscurity and silent darkness, if you cling to a single point of thought, the effort is wasted; if you cling to nothing at all, you fall into blank scatter.” Heyan said: “Let this body become entirely one with the Great Void.” Xi’an said: “Within the breath itself lies great spiritual power.” Dongan said: “Hide the whole body within the Great Void.” Yian said: “Still and unmoving; when there is resonance, one penetrates through.”

The master said: “They pick things from beyond the mundane world to show off spiritual power.” The master also said: “Last night at the third watch, the sun stood at noon; the great beast swallowed the tiger of the southern mountain. Qing’an displayed spiritual power in silent absorption.” Heyan said: “When the lion roars, who dares bully?” Gu’an said: “When heaven and earth shake, who dares bully?” The master said: “Neither of you understands this.” Someone answered: “The Li dragon startled into dancing.”

The master said: “Scooping the moon from water has always been delusion; planting lotus in fire is empty talk; digging earth to find heaven only wastes effort.” Heyan said: “Without leaving where you stand right now, spiritual power can still shine forth.” Xi’an said: “No cultivation, no attainment—that alone counts as success.” The master said: “Why not simply hold fast to the middle?”

The master also said: “Heaven for the roof of the hut, earth for the foundation, all four directions for walls—and in the middle lives a dull-witted fellow.” Heyan said: “Savor the Heart of Heaven alone, until the moon rises.”

The master said, “Better to overturn everything and stop clinging to being abbot or to any fixed place to settle.” He also said, “Before heaven and earth were divided, there was only Wuji—the primordial state before yin and yang had yet to appear. Before Wuji, there was already Taichu, the initial state of the cosmos; as for what lay before Taichu, that was always beyond words.”

Heian said, “He is no longer me, and I am no longer he.” Xi’an said, “Through past and present, I alone abide in suchness—the reality that is not shaken by change.” The master said, “Down to this day, what is seen as essence is still primordial Yuan Shi and utterly empty.”

The master said, “Last night and at noon today, I went straight to mid-heaven with Wuliao, turned the Dipper handle—the handle of the Northern Dipper, often taken as a symbol of the way heaven runs—and rotated the Dharma wheel, the shared Buddhist and Daoist emblem of practice and teaching, so that heaven and earth trembled.” Heian said, “I wander freely in the Palace of Millet Pearls, the inner palace of body and mind in internal alchemy.” He also said, “The myriad forms of the cosmos all come to pay homage.”

The master said, “Do not fix on having no mind or on having a mind. Clinging to either side cannot reach what is real; in the end, having a mind still becomes a burden.” Heian said, “Only when one grasps the middle way is there a true basis.” The master said, “Forget both sides—being and non-being—and only then can one realize the Dharmakaya, the true body beyond all appearance.”

The master also said, “I bring out the means that kills, then take out the knife that saves. Tell me, how are killing and giving life to be understood?” Heian said, “Let what once died live again.” Xi’an said, “Cut through all birth and death.” The master said, “Neither of your knives has a cutting edge.” They answered, “The Dharma King’s command is right here.”

The master said, “One bright, perfectly round pearl—no outer limit, hollow within; lift it out gently, yet nowhere can hold it.” Heian said, “Shown alone, raised alone, one is at ease.” Xu’an said, “It fills countless worlds and manifests suchness, the nature that is true and unchanging.” Xi’an said, “Let go or gather in—it is always there.” Yi’an said, “At the beginning of Yuan Shi, only it existed alone.”

The master said, “However you place it, you never hit an edge; however you take hold, you never hit an edge. Ah! Lead me to dwell inside the toad.” He also said, “Refine a single red-hot iron pellet, red as the sun, vast as the sky; grip it with tongs and put it into every person’s mouth.” Heian said, “Chew out the cool taste of Chan.” Xi’an said, “Only when it is chewed to pieces do you know the flavor is whole.” The master said, “Only when liver and guts are cooked to the end does heart-nature become firm.”

The master said: “When I and my fellow disciples (dharma kin) continue poems in call-and-response, we are only playing with poetry; my real intent is not to compose verses but to clarify the Dao. If someone can grasp the Dao through the poem, they can obtain the supreme, upright subtle principle. Now take ‘drawing back the perverse and returning to the correct’ as the theme, with the rhyme words ‘ye’ and ‘zhe,’ and write a quatrain—when composing, you must not directly name the theme or give away its meaning.”

Heyan said: “How laughable that the lost do not recognize the true road home, yet take a false old man for their real father. Heyan extends the hand of Wuwei (non-action) and points straight to Chang’an (here symbolizing the destination of the upright Way); ahead there is no obstruction.”

Shian said: “By the winding side path stand hundreds of schools; people all mistake the thief for their real father. I now call people back to the upright road and only then trust that the path to Penglai (the immortal realm) is without blockage.”

Ji’an said: “Three thousand minor methods are like floating flowers before the eyes—do not be confused and take them for the true Way. Suddenly seize the nose and pull one back to the great Way; then the full moon shines over all the sky, and even clouds cannot hide it.”

The master said: “Clinging to the thief while crying injustice—truly pitiful; the eyes see clearly yet fail to recognize the real father. Do not blame Qing’an for harsh methods: opening the heart’s aperture is meant to bring complete clarity, so one is no longer obscured.”

Qing’anzi Wendao Yulu (Recorded Sayings of Master Qing’an), Volume Five

Compiled by the disciple Meng’an, Zhang Yingtan.

Miscellaneous Remarks

Presented to Dongxi

To cultivate the elixir path, one must first lay a firm foundation and not let outer circumstances disturb the mind. Once the heart is still, the two aspects of Yin-Yang can harmonize with each other.

Use the fire of the Li trigram to refine lead and mercury; employ the thunder chariot to circulate water and metal; harmonizing must rely on Kun earth, and irrigation depends on heavenly Ren (the qi of the water phase in internal alchemy).

White snow congeals within the golden cauldron; yellow sprouts grow like jade hairpins. These are the true seed— not the medicinal herb xuanshen (Ning shen root).

He also said:

Once you grasp the subtlety of devoted inner cultivation, let the two rats (in Buddhist and Daoist lore, the black and white rats that gnaw away day and night) wear down the hours as they will. If someone truly trusts this path of practice yet lacks constancy and strength, they will still find it hard to persevere to the end.

The vow of compassion is as vast as the sea; the teaching edge (words that awaken realization) is as sharp as metal. First penetrate the zi-wu (the inner alternation of yin and yang in Neidan practice), then grasp Ding and Ren outside the body (the paired stems and qi of yin and yang in alchemical terminology).

One who is skilled at closing the door needs neither bolt nor key; do not doubt—friends will gather. The most hidden and subtle principle lies in the single word “wei”; Zeng Shen (a disciple of Confucius) grasped the Master’s Dao through this.

Han the Magistrate Requests an Inscription for a Portrait of Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin)

This old Master Lü has a kindly face, yet his mind is deep and hard to fathom.

He rests in stillness, then soars at ease; his form drifts free, beyond the dust of the world.

His sword is like a green serpent; he transmits the elixir method at the Purple Pole (the high celestial realm in Daoism).

When you examine and verify it, you will find it truly wondrous and extraordinary.

How are we to understand the phrase “wondrous and extraordinary”? Ha!

The divine sword in his sleeve shows no edge.

He ranges through the cosmos, yet no one recognizes him.

Wang the Lay Buddhist Requests an Inscription for a Portrait of Master Shi

This monk is stubborn by nature and has his way of winning people over—

he has taken thirty-six rounds of the staff,

and put on every kind of act. Hey!

Only when the skin of his face is split open

does the true face within appear.

Zhang the Lay Buddhist Requests an Inscription for a Portrait of the Cloth-Bag Monk

This fat fellow is used to playing the thief, hiding things in his cloth bag so no one notices.

Hey! Yet the thief’s heart is uneasy, and in his smile the truth slips out.

Li the Lay Buddhist Requests an Inscription for a Portrait of Patriarch Lü

What sort of figure is this foreign-looking man?

Still yet restless, pinching and pulling in odd ways;

he lodges in the red dust yet wanders outside the world of dust.

Now that he has come here, everything he hid is exposed.

Say—where did he hide it? Ha!

A green serpent in the sleeve; a world hidden in a grain of rice.

A Good Friend Requests an Inscription for a Portrait of Patriarch Wang

This old man’s appearance is truly ugly:

sparse hair, a bushy beard; eyes as large as his mouth.

He claims to be a descendant of the Fifth Patriarch,

and people call him the companion of the Seven Perfect Ones (Qizhen).

Say—what counts as having seen him?

Ask again—how does one split open the Spring Pavilion? (This line uses a paradoxical question to provoke inquiry.)

Zhao the Lay Buddhist Requests an Inscription for a Painting of the Three Immortals

The Patriarch of Clear Hermitage is yellow and stout; yellow and stout is nothing like what appears in the painting;

he cannot do anything at all, however others may…

Ask again—how does one split open the Spring Pavilion? (This line uses a paradoxical question to provoke inquiry.)

Patriarch Qing’an (the founding master bearing the dao name “Qing’an”) was so corpulent he could scarcely move, skilled at nothing—yet people still supported him. Do you know what he truly understood?

I tore away his outward form and revealed that he was no different from empty space. Jie’an, the scholar, faced the myriad strange things of the great world; he had read enough to fill five cartloads of books, yet could not apply a single character. Tell me—why was he “unable”?

Strip off the costume Old Bao wears on stage, and you attain the indestructible vajra body.

In Praise of the Dharma Assembly Companions

Liaochan’s verse says: The mind is like the bright moon, full and luminous; innate nature is like the sky, clear and pure. Liaochan appears, his light filling heaven and earth.

He’an’s verse says: He’an’s realm has no inside or outside; vast and all-embracing, deep yet bright.

Danchan’s verse says: Dan is what the toad does; the toad is the substance of the elixir. When the inner elixir (Neidan) is complete, the toad sheds its form, its efficacy equal to the Primordial One.

Yichan’s verse says: The Chan realm is pure and clear; the sea of wisdom is limpid. Yichan appears, illuminating all things. Ha! The layers of bondage between heaven and earth are shattered; only the great light is revealed.

Gu’an’s verse says: Gu’an’s realm is without obstruction. After nine revolutions the work is done, the spiritual embryo (the inner immortal body forged in cultivation) is shed. Yi! From the crown blazes great light, shining through the three thousand worlds.

In Praise of Li the Court Artisan

Cast off cleverness and quick wit; straighten your bearing, part the clouds and refine the bright moon. The upward work of cultivation is fully displayed. Yi! Showing your skill before one who has attained the Way, in the end you penetrate all dharmas.

In Praise of Qian the Court Artisan

With a jade comb part the clouds; with a golden knife refine the bright moon.

Cast off cleverness and quick wit; straighten your bearing, part the clouds and refine the bright moon. The upward work of cultivation is fully displayed. Yi! Showing your skill before one who has attained the Way, in the end you penetrate all dharmas.

With a jade comb part the clouds; with a golden knife refine the bright moon. One turning point of mystery at the crux of practice makes everything transparent. Yi! The message before your eyes slips out without a sound.

Miscellaneous Verses

Inscription on the Picture of the Three Realms

Look at this clumsy fellow—no resolve at all, clearly half dead yet still entangled. Yi! Hurry back, and you save only half.

Inscription on the Meditating Ape

This beast (a figure for the untamed heart-mind monkey) is wildly perverse and unruly; wildness still shows in its eyes. Shout once: its hide must be worn raw before it can move freely beyond the mundane world without obstruction.

On “Closing the Eyes Monkey”

Shout once: what does this shaggy creature look like? It only runs mad and wild, shifting through a thousand grotesque forms. Having come here, it is seen through on the spot—like catching a thief, there is nowhere to hide.

Where was it hiding? Ah—in gathering the mind, closing the eyes, and sitting quietly on the mountaintop, body, mind, qi, and spirit are whole, and the spirit roams outside the ten thousand things.

In Praise of the Black Killer Talisman (Heisha Fu)

Take empty space for paper and Mount Sumeru for a brush; draw the spirit talisman, appearing and vanishing like a spirit. Tell me: step by step, how do you judge whether it is dead or alive?

In Praise of the Sword

This man-slaying blade is held crosswise or upside down; meet a Buddha and slay the Buddha, meet a ghost and slay the ghost. Here “slaying” describes practice: cutting through attachment and not being bound by fixed views.

In Praise of the Baked Cake

Water and wheat flour kneaded into one lump, shaped round. Without fire and skill, how could you obtain such true flavor? Shout once: handed to you as you are—no need to chew it to pieces.

In Praise of Malt Sugar

Yellow sprout juice is pressed out, then refined by heat. It sticks like phoenix-and-dragon glue and is sweet as paramita. The dull and sluggish have their jaws glued shut by it; even the strong cannot open their mouths.

In Praise of the Gourd

It received the innate single qi (yuanqi, the primordial breath that generates the ten thousand things) and became such a vessel of the Way. Taken up at hand, it splits the undivided whole and shows a round, complete form. Ah! When raised, the meaning is clear—do not misread it.

Again: this one handle alone—its subtle function and spirit cannot be fathomed; raised, it can shade the sun and cover the sky; lowered, wind and waves subside.

In Praise of Zong Pengtou (Unkempt Hair)

Pengtou, Pengtou—what elegance or ease is there? Dragging a staff sideways, riding an iron ox backward.

Self-Praise: True Likeness

This face does not lean on any principle; that one too hardly counts. When was there ever any “calm seas and gentle wind”?

In Praise of Zong Pengtou

This verse explains the key to refining Shen (spirit). To refine Shen, one must first refine Jing (essence); to refine Jing, one must first regulate Qi (vital energy); to regulate Qi, one must first preserve Shen and guard intention. Once preservation and guarding are stable, the mind becomes clear, Shen becomes luminous, and Qi settles. When Qi is settled, Jing coalesces; when Jing coalesces, the body becomes firm; when the body is firm, the Yang Shen—the pure yang spirit spoken of in cultivation—can leave the physical form. The path of long life and enduring clarity comes down to this. What alchemical texts call “Golden Elixir refining the form” and “Golden Elixir returning to the elixir” likewise rests on this principle.

Verse on Refining the Elixir in the Eight-Gold Cauldron

“Eight” is the completion number of Wood and stands for the nature of Wood; “gold” stands for emotion (qing). Using nature (xing) to gather emotion and bring emotion into the central palace (the body’s inner center) is likened to the “earthen cauldron.” Then one adds fire to nurture the refinement: the more it is refined, the firmer and more rounded and bright it becomes—hence it is called the Golden Elixir (Jindan).

In the Stove of the Household, Hold Fast with Care

“Fire” means Shen; “household” means the chamber. When the Yuanshen (original spirit-consciousness) enters the chamber, it is like placing the ingredients in the furnace: one must guard carefully and seal firmly so nothing deviates or leaks. The two “ingredients,” lead and mercury, scatter most easily—how could one not guard them steadfastly? Even the slightest error, and the elixir cannot be formed.

Lacking Earth in the Kan Palace, Ren and Gui Flee

“Earth” means Kun, and Kun corresponds to the body. When the body is still and unmoving, the tiger roars; when the body moves, the tiger runs away. The tiger’s roar symbolizes essence gathering; the tiger’s flight symbolizes essence dispersing. “Lacking earth” means the body is unsettled; “Ren and Gui flee” means essence leaks. Practitioners cannot afford to be careless.

When the Heart Moves, Bing and Ding of Nature and Earth Fly

Bing and Ding belong to Fire and correspond to the heart. When the heart is settled, the dragon intones; when the heart is unsettled, the dragon runs. The dragon’s intoning symbolizes Qi becoming stable; the dragon’s running symbolizes Qi scattering. “Heart moves” means heart-fire flares upward; “Bing and Ding fly” means Qi scatters. These two lines use the dragon flying and tiger running to depict lead flying and mercury running—that is, the loss of essence and Qi.

Where the Master Dwells, Yin Demons Submit

“The master” means the original true suchness-nature—the Yuanshen that does not perish through kalpas. “Dwells” means the Yuanshen abides in the chamber.

“Yin demons” subdued means that carnal desire is cut off. When the cultivator’s body and mind no longer stir recklessly, essence-spirit (jing-shen) can gather and hold firm—much like lead flying off and mercury shifting during elixir refinement.

The “host” denotes the inherent true nature (zhenru), and also the original spirit (yuanshen) that survives countless kalpas without decay. “Dwelling” means the original spirit returns to the inner chamber—that is, it settles in body and mind. “Yin demons subdued” is the severing of desire; once body and mind are settled, essence-spirit condenses and becomes solid.

Sun and moon stand for the body’s refined essence; “bright” means that essence has gathered. When practice is deep and the fire phases (huohou, timing of cultivation) are right, essence is refined into one mass, shining like a supreme treasure and illuminating heaven and earth.

“One, two, three—yuan becoming a blend” means refining essence (jing), qi, and spirit (shen) into one. Heaven generates water—an image for essence; earth generates fire—for qi; heaven generates wood—for spirit. When the three treasures are forged into one, it is also “three-five united” (sanwu heyi), returning to the source.

“Golden Lord” (jingong) is another name for lead (qian). “Lead dead” means desire is exhausted and emotional fixation ends; the sacred embryo (shengtai, the inner true token formed in practice) is complete, and an infant-like form appears.

“One lead, two mercury meeting in the three palaces”: “One” is water’s generating number, standing for essence, nicknamed lead; “two” is fire’s generating number, for qi, nicknamed cinnabar/sand; “three” is wood’s generating number, for spirit, nicknamed mercury. “Three palaces” are the respective seats of essence, qi, and spirit within the body.

“Eastern Sea” images original nature; “Golden Lord” images desire—again names for lead and mercury. Desire returns to nature; then, with fire phases, it is refined. After myriad temperings it becomes a supreme treasure.

“The body’s inner root as substance and function” means the body already has a natural foundation inwardly—seeking outward is mistaken. Inner original essence (yuanjing) is the function of the Golden Elixir; original qi (yuanqi) in the heart is its substance.

The Gen palace is the northeast direction among the Bagua positions. “Wood fluid” denotes mercury (gong); together they are called “mercury in sand,” and are treated as the root of the Golden Elixir. To give learners something firm to hold, the author uses these names to explain the matter.

“Sun dwelling in the moon’s cave” means yang entering the yin position—that is, taking the yang of Kan to fill the yin of Li. It is also described as drawing lead and adding mercury, the meeting of the infant boy and the maiden girl, the joining of metal and wood, and the blending of water and fire. These are different ways of speaking about yin-yang harmonization and the inner union of the elixir.

“When the heart dies, the spirit lives” means that when the mind grows still, spirit appears and wisdom opens. Those who study the Way should be quiet like rotten wood or dead ashes, not stirred by outer things; when the work is ripe, awakened nature becomes round and bright.

When the practice is complete, the sea of desire dries up of itself, nature and emotion become one, and lead and mercury meet and congeal. After the firing is accomplished, form and spirit transcend, and the Golden Elixir shows signs of taking form.

The “great elixir” is the inner pill brought to full completion—not something refined from external things, but cultivated from one’s inherent nature of true suchness (zhenru). When it is finished, taking the Golden Elixir enables one to attain the fruit of the golden immortal.

At the outset one must understand “three, two, one”—shen, qi, and jing. What is meant here is not the semen of male–female union, the breath of ordinary respiration, or the shen of discursive thought, but primordial jing, primordial qi, and primordial shen; cultivators must tell these apart clearly.

In cultivation one must not let the mind run loose. When thoughts stir wildly, fire rises and flares upward; when the heart is settled, dullness also stops. Therefore one should gather body and mind at every moment through all twelve double-hours.

If people in the world today believe what I say…

Those who study the Dao, if they cling to words and remain trapped in surface appearances, will never truly grasp the teaching. Laozi said: “My words are easy to put into practice, yet people neither understand nor practice them—the reason is insufficient faith.”

Settling heaven and earth and hosting the master

“Heaven and earth” (Qiankun) here means body and mind. Someone who truly trusts the path will work to settle body and mind and recognize their original face. Once you recognize it face to face, you see that it neither comes nor goes.

Kan water rises in waves for lack of earth

“Kan water rising in waves” means Jing (essence) cannot stay settled; “lack of earth” means the body is unstable. The alchemical texts say “true earth controls true lead”—that is the point.

When nature’s heaven stirs with thought, the born mind appears

“Nature’s heaven stirring with thought” means inner feelings are aroused; “born mind” means Shen (spirit) scatters. The texts say “true lead controls true mercury”—that is the point.

The mercury furnace must be fixed through work on water

When the furnace and cauldron are set up (metaphors in Neidan (internal alchemy) for stabilizing body-mind), Jing must be secured first—hence “work on water” comes first. When Jing is stable, Qi (vital energy) gathers, and lead and mercury (Yin-Yang forces in the body) naturally unite. The texts say “lead and mercury return to the earthen cauldron.”

Inside the cauldron, tune and refine the eight metals

“The eight metals” stand for emotion and nature; “the cauldron” is the yellow center (the middle of the body, the inner center in practice). When emotion and nature return to centrality, body and mind become clear and still. “Body and mind rest unmoving”—that is what is meant.

When the eyes droop in sleep, water and mercury interfere with the work

During practice, sleepiness will disturb the work.

Take fire from water and refine against it

One draws fire from within water and uses it to refine and transform.

When self and heart’s breath settle, refine the eastern metal

When body and mind are still and unmoving, metal and wood interjoin.

One nature round and bright—ten thousand concerns cease

Original nature is full and luminous, and the myriad entangling thoughts quiet down.

The cart moves by the axle—thus the heart awakens

The cart is driven by its axle; a person is driven by the heart.

Whoever understands this principle returns to Complete Perfection (Quanzhen)

Understanding this, one can return to the state of full authenticity.

Palaces one, two, three—the sun and moon shine clear

The three origins unite as one; the two modes (Yin and Yang) are fully accomplished.

Bright as sun and moon, illuminating heaven and earth

That light is like sun and moon illuminating Qiankun—the whole of body and world.

Meng’an said: Master Qing’an composed these two diagrams—the overlapping-character verse and the acrostic poem—not to show off cleverness, but to clarify the essence and function of the Golden Elixir, so that even subtle principles could be made plain. The overlapping-character verse treats the body of the Golden Elixir; the acrostic poem treats its use. The acrostic form itself symbolizes how deep and hidden the Way of the elixir is. Master Qing’an also explained everything at length, so the central aim of elixir practice becomes clear and easy to follow. Whoever can grasp the intent from these diagrams will have hold of the essentials of Golden Elixir cultivation. On that account, the material was copied into this collected work.

Qing’anzi Wenda Yulu (Question-and-Answer Record of Master Qing’an), fascicle 6

Compiled by the disciple Sun’an, Cai Zhiyi

Resolving Doubts amid the Yellow Center

The master asked: “Do you know that the patriarchs of former ages, the perfected ones and sages who attained the Dao, grasped the supreme genuine Dao and left it in the world to deliver sentient beings?”

Ding’an replied: “Your disciple has only just entered the gate of the mysteries (the Daoist path). I am dull and ignorant. To be taken in by you, Master, is truly a chance that comes once in a thousand years. I do not yet know this supreme genuine Dao. I beg you to instruct me.”

The master said: “What is called the supreme genuine Dao is that nothing stands above it. It is profound and far-reaching; it cannot be depicted in form. It is spontaneous by nature and reaches the utmost subtlety. The sages reluctantly gave it the name ‘Dao.’ From ancient times, immortals who attained the Dao all awakened through it; none cultivated and verified without following it. The holy masters transmitted it by word of mouth; patriarchs through the ages sealed it heart to heart. The essential teaching of the Golden Elixir is the subtle gateway of the supreme genuine Dao.

“Why can the Golden Elixir stand for the supreme genuine principle? ‘Gold’ means firm and unyielding; ‘elixir’ means perfectly round. Buddhists call it ‘complete awakening’ (yuanjue); Confucians call it the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). The Taiji is nothing other than the original speck of luminous spirit. The original true nature is never destroyed—firm as gold, round as an elixir; refined by fire it shines all the brighter. Buddhists use a circle to symbolize suchness; Confucians use a circle for the Taiji; Daoists use a circle for the Golden Elixir. The three share the same substance; only the names differ.

The Book of Changes says: ‘In Change there is the Taiji; from it arise the two modes.’ The Taiji is the root of emptiness and naturalness; the two modes are yin and yang—that is, heaven and earth. Human beings live between heaven and earth, completing the way of the three powers—heaven, earth, and humanity—and all three are also present in a single person. In the language of internal alchemy (Neidan), the Taiji refers to the original spirit (yuanshen); the two modes refer to body and mind; and the Taiji is the root of the elixir.”

“Liangyi” (Two Modes) refers to true lead and true mercury. The lead and mercury spoken of here are not external substances such as mercury, cinnabar, sulfur, black tin, or plant materials, nor are they seminal fluid, saliva, nasal discharge, heart-and-kidney as a pair, or qi and blood in the ordinary sense. They are the primordial Jing (essence) inherent in the body and the primordial Shen (spirit) inherent in the mind. When body and mind are settled and unmoving, and essence and spirit condense into one, this is likened to a “Dan” (elixir). “Dan” means refining oneself into an elixir. The “○” in the text stands for true nature (zhenxing); when this “○” appears from within the Dan, it is called completion of the Dan (dancheng).

The Dan is not something manufactured by processing external things. It is cultivated from the root of life itself, attaining a state that is pure and real—a point few people in the world understand. Today most who practice Dan methods have not received the authentic transmission and often seek outward, straying from the correct path. Hence many study, but few succeed. Some refine the “five metals and eight minerals”; some practice what are called the “three avoidances and five falsities”; some gather and refine external qi from clouds, essence of sun and moon, or light of stars; some visualize a pellet in empty space or imagine something in the Dantian (energy center) and take that to be the Dan; some circulate the so-called “golden essence behind the elbow,” fix attention on the space between the brows, or take “returning essence to nourish the brain” as their method; some send qi to the navel. There are also those who ingest foul substances, swallow saliva, exhale the old and inhale the new, practice Baduanjin (Eight Pieces of Brocade), recite the “three-character” method, shake the jiaji (region along the spine), turn the “windlass,” block the weilü (tail gate at the base of the spine), guard the umbilical cord, refine celestial dew (tian gui), prepare “autumn stone” (qiushi), as well as bending-stretching guiding exercises, massage and breath regulation, silent audience with the Highest Emperor, pressing the tongue to the palate, causing the three fields to return, holding the breath and moving qi, gathering “great fire” in the bladder, making the Five Phases converge in the “sea of bitterness,” and so on. Such minor techniques are more than a thousand in number. Even with diligent practice and endless gathering and refining, in the end none of these can accomplish the great work. The scripture says: “The correct method is hard to meet; many people lose the true path and enter heterodox schools.” That is exactly this situation.

The way that truly matters is utmost simple and easy. Though hard to encounter, once obtained it is easy to complete. If one meets an accomplished person who points and teaches, there is none who cannot succeed. Ding’an said: “Your disciple has been fortunate, through karmic ties from past lives, to meet a teacher and receive the nourishing milk of the Dharma (furu—the master’s transmitted teaching). I earnestly beg to be granted the essential instructions on the Golden Elixir (Jindan).”

The master said: “Listen carefully now, and I will explain. The key to refining the elixir is to take the creative transformation of Heaven and Earth as your model: treat Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth) as the cauldron-furnace, the sun and moon as water and fire, Yin-Yang as the pivot of change and circulation, and the golden crow and jade rabbit (the solar and lunar essences in sun and moon) as the medicinal ingredients. Rely on the rotation of the Celestial Mechanism (Tian Gang) and the shifting of the Dipper’s handle to seize the right moment; gather Qi in season, and move the talismans (tiaoxi and yunqi by rule) with proper measure. In practice, master the rhythm of advancing fire and withdrawing talismans so that the Four Images (the paired forces of Yin-Yang, sun and moon, and the like) are harmonized; bring the two currents of qi to meet on the Yellow Track (the path of right circulation), and gather the three natures—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—in the Original Palace (the core of internal alchemy). Thus you return to the root and restore the origin, return to the root and recover life; when the work is complete and spirit is full, the ordinary body sheds and becomes immortal—this is called the elixir perfected.”

Ding’an said: “The creative transformation of Heaven and Earth is indeed…” [The following text repeats what the master said about harmonizing the Four Images, bringing the two currents of qi to meet on the Yellow Track, gathering the three natures in the Original Palace, returning to the root and restoring the origin, completing the work with spirit full, the ordinary body shedding and becoming immortal, and calling this the elixir perfected.]

Ding'an said: "The creative transformation within heaven and earth is probably hard for people to seize for themselves." The master replied: "If you do not leave your own person, where is the difficulty? Heaven and earth are likened to the human body; water and fire to jing and qi (essence and vital energy); yin and yang to body and mind; the sun-crow and moon-rabbit to disposition and nature. Thus the body is the cauldron-furnace, jing and qi are water and fire, disposition and nature are the pivot of activation and change, and body and mind are the ingredients of refining the elixir. The sages, fearing that students would have no way to grasp this, used heaven and earth to illustrate the human body, showing that the inner operation within a person is no different from the operation of heaven and earth. The two words 'body' and 'mind' refer both to the medicine and to the fire."

"Expressions such as heavenly soul and earthly soul, the Qian horse and Kun ox, yang lead and yin mercury, the Kan male and Li female, and the sun-crow and moon-rabbit all fall within the scope of body and mind. What is called 'the celestial pivot turning' refers to the Celestial Heart (tian xin). A cinnabar text says: 'When the human heart aligns with the Celestial Heart, inverting yin and yang takes only an instant.' It also says: 'Use the heart to observe the Dao, and the Dao is in the heart; use the Dao to observe the heart, and the heart is the Dao.' What is called 'the dipper handle shifting' refers to the Pass (xuan guan)—in Neidan, a crucial pivot that cannot be pinned to any fixed spot in the body."

"Today those who study cultivation often fixate on some part of the body. Some say the Pass is between the eyebrows; some say at the navel wheel, between the two kidneys, or behind the navel and before the kidneys; some say in the bladder or the Dantian (energy center), or that the nine palaces of the head are the Pass; some treat the birth gate (the portal through which a child is born) as where life is generated, or treat the mouth and nose as the Mysterious Female (xuan pin, the gateway where yin and yang meet and life is nurtured)—all of this is wrong. As soon as you cling to a concrete place in the body, that is not the Pass; yet you also cannot seek it outside yourself beyond the body. Various elixir scriptures do not point out exactly where it is, because it cannot be captured in words or writing and cannot be stated plainly—hence the name 'Pass' (xuan guan)."

"Therefore the sages wrote only the single character 'center' (zhong) to instruct people, and that character makes the Pass clear. The 'center' spoken of here is not the middle between inside and outside, nor a position among the four directions and above and below, and still less the center of some particular place."

Buddhism asks: “When you neither intend good nor intend evil, at that very moment—what is your original face?” This is what Chan Buddhism calls zhong (the Middle). Confucianism says: “When joy, anger, sorrow, and delight have not yet appeared, that is called zhong.” Daoism says that the state in which thoughts do not stir is called zhong.” Thus all three teachings speak of the same zhong.

The Yijing says: still and unmoving—that is the substance of zhong; responsive and penetrating—that is the function of zhong. Laozi says: “Attain utmost emptiness; hold fast to deep stillness. While the myriad things rise and change together, I thereby observe how they return to the root.” The Yijing also says that the hexagram Fu (Return), which shows Heaven and Earth’s unceasing living heart, reveals the mind of generation without end. In Fu, one Yang arises beneath five Yin: Yin belongs to stillness, Yang to movement. When stillness reaches its extreme, movement is born; that point of movement is the Xuanquan (in neidan, the crucial aperture where Yin and Yang meet and Qi is aroused).

You need only apply effort at the moment thoughts arise in daily life; over time, the Xuanquan will naturally appear. Once you recognize the Xuanquan, matters such as yao (medicinal ingredients), huohou (timing of firing), choutian (adding and withdrawing in the firing process), and even shedding the shell and spiritual transformation—all hinge on this essential node. “Gathering the medicine” means gathering and refining the true lead and true mercury within oneself (neidan terms for the body’s Yin–Yang essences). The arising of the medicinal ingredients has its proper moment; that moment is not necessarily the winter solstice, the start of the month, or the hour of Zi. The master said: “In refining the elixir you need not seek the winter solstice—within the body a single Yang will arise on its own.” He also said: “When lead appears at the birth of Gui, hurry to gather and refine; the golden medicine arises in its season—when the time for distant gazing has passed, it is no longer fit to taste and take.” “Birth of Gui” here means the moment when Yang first stirs within; when the one Yang is activated, you may set about gathering and refining.

After Yin and Yang Qi have joined, you must also know how to hold fullness and stop at the right measure, without going to excess. In practice, jinhuo tuifu (advancing the fire and retreating the tally) should follow natural cycles: the year’s cold and heat can serve as a standard for huohou; the moon’s waxing and waning in a month can illustrate the principle of choutian.

At the winter solstice, yang qi first stirs—this is represented by the hexagram Fu (Returning). In the twelfth month there are two lines of yang, shown by Lin (Approaching); in the first month three yang lines appear in Tai (Peace); in the second month four yang in Da Zhuang (Great Strength); in the third month five yang in Guai (Breakthrough); and in the fourth month, when all six lines are yang, by Qian (Heaven). When yang reaches its peak, yin begins to arise: in the fifth month one yin line appears in Gou (Coupling); in the sixth month two yin in Dun (Retreat); in the seventh three yin in Pi (Standstill); in the eighth four yin in Guan (Viewing); in the ninth five yin in Bo (Splitting); and in the tenth month pure yin in Kun (Earth). At yin’s extreme, yang starts again—thus the cycle turns without end. These hexagrams are used to explain how the fire phases in internal alchemy should advance and retreat.

Unfortunately, some practitioners cling to the written word and to the hexagrams themselves. They insist that “adding fire” must begin on the winter solstice and “withdrawing the tally” on the summer solstice, and that “bathing”—the stage in practice where the fire is harmonized and rested—must fall in the second and eighth months, without grasping what actually matters. To help cultivators see the point, the sages also likened the year’s seasons to a single month: the first and fifteenth days of the month stand for winter and summer solstice; the moon’s first and third quarters stand for the second and eighth months. They further compressed a month into two and a half days, and a year into thirty days. Practitioners then fixed on “work within the month.” So the sages compressed the moon’s waxing and waning into one day: zi and wu hours correspond to the first and fifteenth; mao and you hours to the first and third quarters. Yet others became obsessed with practicing only at those hours of the day.

Masters who truly understood the Dao in recent times have said: “Within the work of a single quarter-hour, the seasons of a whole year are present.” They also said: “Before your parents conceived you, where were year, month, day, and hour?” Such sayings were meant to guide and awaken cultivators—not to send the mind chasing in the wrong direction. Those who stay literal refuse to probe the meaning and only clutch at texts and hexagrams, exhausting themselves to no purpose.

I will tell you plainly: When the body’s “gui water” stirs—the moment inner yin and yang first begin to move—that is one yang arising. When yang rises and yin descends, that is the image of three yang. When yin and yang separate and stand distinct, that is the form of four yang, corresponding to the second month, and also to the moon’s first quarter and the mao hour. At that point one first performs bathing, then advances the fire. When yin and yang meet and shen (spirit) and qi (vital energy) generate together, that is again one yang arising; yang ascending and yin descending is three yang; yin and yang dividing is four yang. When yin and yang unite and shen and qi merge, six yang are complete.

When Yin-Yang qi interpenetrate and spirit (Shen) merges with original Qi (Yuan Qi), one must also know when to hold steady and not fill to excess; if one does not know where to stop, all prior effort is wasted. Hence the saying: “When metal meets far-sighted gaze, it is not fit to taste.” Next one must withdraw and turn the talisman fire, manifesting the image of one Yin; then gradually circulate until Yin and Yang separate, showing the image of three Yin. At this point Yin and Yang occupy hidden positions, suited to “Bathing” (a cultivation phase of pausing or harmonizing the fire), corresponding to the eighth month, the last quarter moon, and the hour of You. After that circulation reaches six Yin, Yin reaches its extreme and Yang begins to stir. In an instant, one full circuit (Yround circuit of qi in practice) is completed.

If you cultivate according to these methods, over time the work deepens and gradually condenses and forms; from formlessness something formed appears, coalescing into the “Sacred Embryo” (the inner crystallization spoken of in Neidan), and this is called the elixir accomplished (dancheng). Ding’an said: “As for the method of entering practice and the application of fire phases in the circuit, I have already received my teacher’s instruction; but among the various different names, I still cannot fully understand them, and I beg the teacher to explain.”

The teacher said: “The so-called different names are all metaphors; in the end they do not go beyond body and mind. When you first apply effort, you must gather hearing so the ear-root is quiet; gather vision so spirit is guarded within; seal the tongue and speak no idle words; and regulate the Qi in nasal breathing. As for the ‘Four Greats,’ I have not yet received the teacher’s instruction on them. I cannot fully understand all these different names, and I beg the teacher to explain.”

The master said: “The various names are all metaphors; in the end they come down to nothing beyond body and mind. At the start of practice, one must fix the hearing in the ears, gather in the gaze of the eyes, close the mouth and tongue, regulate the breath through the nose, and keep the limbs of the body still. Let spirit, hun, po, and yi each keep to their proper place—this is called ‘five qi returning to the origin’ (wuzi chaoyuan); then gather them together at the central palace (the inner center of the body)—this is called ‘gathering the five phases’ (cuancu wuxing). When the mind does not move, it is called dragon’s cry; when the body does not move, it is called tiger’s roar; when both body and mind are settled and unmoving, it is called subduing the dragon and taming the tiger. Jing and qi are likened to tortoise and serpent; body and mind to dragon and tiger. When dragon, tiger, tortoise, and serpent unite as one, it is called ‘harmonizing the four emblems’ (hehe sixiang)—bringing the four symbolic forces into coordinated fusion.

Using xing (nature) to govern qing (emotion) is called ‘metal and wood united’; using jing to command qi is called ‘water and fire interacting.’ Wood and fire share the same source; xing and qing harmonize, like the three of the east plus the two of the south making five; water and metal share the same source, like the one of the north joining the four of the west. Earth occupies the central palace, corresponding to the number five of oneself; wu and ji (the two earth stems) also return to their own number. When mind, body, and yi become one, the three houses meet and form the infant—altogether called ‘three and five blended’ (sanwu hunrong)—the forces symbolized by three and five intermingling.

Refining jing into qi, refining qi into shen, refining shen back to emptiness is called ‘three flowers gathered in the cauldron’ (sanhua juding)—jing, qi, and shen gathered in the ding, symbolizing the completion of practice—and also called ‘three passes.’ Many practitioners today call the weilü, jiaji, and yuzhen (passes at the lower spine, mid-spine, and back of the head) the three passes, but that is only one part of the method, not the most crucial point. The place where thought first stirs is called xuanpin (the inner gate of generation and transformation); some today call the mouth and nose xuanpin—that is mistaken.

Body, mind, and yi are called the three essentials. The xing in the heart is called ‘mercury in cinnabar sand’; the qi in the body is called ‘gold in water.’ Metal can generate water and is water’s mother; when metal returns into water, it is said ‘the mother hides the child in the womb.’ Neither letting outer objects enter nor letting inner visions leak out is called ‘sealing and regulating’ (guji); stillness without movement is called ‘nourishing the fire’; empty naturalness is called ‘application’; sincere single-mindedness is called ‘guarding the fortress’; subduing inner visions is called ‘field battle.’ True mercury is called the crimson maiden; true lead the infant; true yi the yellow matron; xing and qing are likened to husband and wife.

Clarifying the mind and settling intent, so that xing is still and spirit bright and active, letting the two forces condense into a clump and the three origins gather—this is called ‘forming the embryo.’ Cherishing the spirit root is called ‘warm nurturing’; protecting it like a dragon nurturing a pearl or a hen brooding an egg is called ‘sustaining.’ Not the slightest error may occur, or all prior effort is wasted. When the yang spirit appears, it is called ‘escaping the shell’; returning to the root and restoring life, reverting to the original state, is called ‘transcendence’; shattering the void is then called ‘completion.’

Ding'an asked: "After the Golden Elixir is fully cultivated, can it still be seen?" The reply was: "It can." He asked again: "Does it have a shape?" The answer was: "It has no shape." He pressed further: "If it has no shape, how can it be seen?" The reply was: "Golden Elixir is merely a name used for convenience; how could it have a shape? What is meant by 'can be seen' is not seeing with the eyes. Buddhism says: 'In what cannot be seen, one sees directly; in the very act of direct seeing, there is again no seeing.' The Daoist scripture says: 'Look at it and it cannot be seen; listen to it and it cannot be heard—this is the Dao.' That it cannot be seen does not mean it has never appeared; that it cannot be heard does not mean it has never been perceived. What is said to be seeable and hearable is not what the ears and eyes can reach, but what the heart grasps and the mind perceives.

Take the great wind: when it blows into the mountains it shakes the trees; when it blows over water it raises waves—can one say the wind does not exist? Yet look at it and you cannot see it; reach out and you cannot touch it—can one say it has a physical form? The essence of the Golden Elixir is the same. At the start of practice, being and non-being are used in turn, movement and stillness go together; when practice succeeds, all entanglements cease at once, the ten thousand things are empty, movement and stillness are both forgotten, being and non-being are both set aside—only then does one reach the state of "the mystical pearl forming its image" and "Taiyi returning to the origin." At that point nature and life are both fulfilled, body and spirit both reach subtle perfection; one can enter and leave the realm of being and non-being, roam freely above the clouds, and in the end attain the fruit of the Golden Immortal.

Therefore the classics and alchemical texts use many different names to guide the student from the coarse toward the subtle, step by step into finer terrain, until one sees one's nature and understands emptiness. But the true meaning of cultivation is not in the words on paper. It is like the boat that ferries people across a river: it helps them reach the other shore, but once there, the boat is no longer needed. The ancients said: "When you have the rabbit, forget the snare; when you have the fish, forget the trap." That is the idea.

In compiling this collection, I too must not cling to the words on the page; one should ponder and savor the meaning again and again and probe to the root. Perhaps a single phrase will open the heart in sudden clarity and lead straight into the realm of Wuwei (non-action)—that is not difficult. The key to going further is not easily spoken; it must be grasped beyond words. When your practice is solid, we can speak of how to advance; then there will be separate heart-to-heart transmission. For now, apply yourself fully to practice and strictly keep the precepts of the Mystic Gate. Thus a verse was composed:

Transmitting the Jindan (Golden Elixir) book—the formulas and methods of neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation—is not difficult. As for the key secrets of the next level, they cannot be spoken lightly; you must grasp them for yourself beyond words and writing. When your practice has ripened, you can discuss how to advance further; at that stage there is separate heart-to-mouth transmission. For now, devote yourself entirely to diligent work. The precepts of the Xuanmen (Mysterious Gate) tradition are strict on this point. Hence the verse:

A scroll of the Jindan book is handed down to you;

You should also turn inward and seek its meaning in the book itself.

If you can directly take in the book’s true intent,

Its subtle use will be round and penetrating, and the heart-body vast as taixu (the boundless void).

Guide to Refining Xing (Nature)

The study of xingli (human nature and its principles) has no fixed sequence to begin with. Some hold that one must first exhaust the principles of things and fully bring forth xing, and only at the end reach ming (life-destiny or the root of life); in that view there truly is an order. Others hold that all three can be completed at once. Students today do not know which view is correct; I will now explain clearly.

Those of middling and lower capacity should advance step by step: first exhaust the li (principle) of things until it is thoroughly clear, and only then fully know xing. As long as a single matter is not fully clear, the heart will be blocked. Therefore one investigates each matter until it is clear, recognizes one’s xing, and only then can advance to embody ming.

Those of the highest wisdom are different: exhaust one principle thoroughly, and from it the myriad principles connect; knowing xing and grasping ming can be done in the same moment. This is like the Chan saying that jie, ding, and hui (precepts, concentration, and wisdom) can be achieved together. Those with a shallow foundation must first forget lust and stray thoughts—that is jie; the heart is quiet and unmoving—that is ding; silently recognizing and penetrating in the dark—that is hui. Those of superior root are different: in holding jie they naturally enter ding; in ding wisdom naturally appears—jie, ding, and hui are accomplished at once.

Practitioners of jindan also have gradual and sudden paths. The gradual path begins with refining jing to transform qi (turning essence into vital energy), then step by step refining qi to transform shen (turning qi into spirit), and finally refining shen to return to xu (returning spirit to the empty source). The sudden path is different: it treats jing, qi, and shen as the initial medicine and from the start cultivates them together. Seen this way, how could the study of xingli have a fixed order?

If a person of resolve can let the three undertakings be fulfilled at once, what does it mean that the three are completed in one go? Ah—it is like a tangled skein of silk: one cut of the knife, and all is severed together.

Shortcut to Ascending to Perfection

Gu An, Magistrate Zhan, was a wise and virtuous county magistrate of Xinghua. He governed the people with benevolence and devoted himself to public affairs. Though he lived amid the dust of the world, his heart turned toward the subtle and mysterious—truly one whose body remained in the mundane while his mind transcended it.

One day he came to visit me at my Chan Cave dwelling and sought instruction. I briefly explained the practice of cultivation, and he raised question after question. His responses showed uncommon insight; I could not remain silent, and so I wrote these “Nine Foundations of Life” for him, to clarify the principle of the “nine returns.” Where the text speaks of the generation and transformation of the Golden Elixir, it uses the profound meaning of Chan (Zen) as corroboration. Readers should savor it carefully, return to it again and again, and probe its intent deeply; then they may naturally transcend the distinction between self and things and cease clinging to sameness and difference. As for the essentials of ascending to authenticity and entering the Way, they are none other than what is set forth here. Hence this book is titled Shortcut to Authenticity. Li Chunsu, Qing’an Yingchanzi of Duliang, composed this work.

1. Knowing Where to Begin and When to Practice

To refine the Golden Elixir, one must first understand where to begin. If one does not know the work of the starting point, no amount of forced patching or empty invention will avail. Master Ziyang said: “Even if your intelligence surpasses that of Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, without meeting a true teacher, do not guess at it by force.” There must be a genuine master to point out where to begin and how to take the first step. Once one knows the starting point, one must also know the timing of practice.

What is meant by “timing” is the moment of “one yang”—when yang qi first arises. Many people today take the zi hour (midnight) as the one-yang moment; this is mistaken. To fix it to a particular clock hour is wrong; to say that practice has no timing at all is also wrong. Perfected Master Lü spoke of “refining the self while awaiting the moment,” and Master Ziyang said: “When lead appears at gui’s birth, gather it swiftly.” The scriptures also say: “When the moment arrives, the spirit knows.” From this one may infer: when the practitioner’s body shows “gui birth,” that is the one-yang moment.

Then what is the moment of “gui birth”? Ah—it is like reaching the end of the stream and sitting quietly to watch the clouds rise. Here a verse is borrowed to depict the state when the moment comes of itself and the heart-mind knows it without being told; “gui birth” is a term from internal alchemy (Neidan), referring to the signs that yang qi is first stirring in the body.

2. True Lead and True Mercury

Once you understand when to begin practice, you must discern what true lead (Zhenqian) and true mercury (Zhengong) are, so that you can recognize the moment when “Gui is born” (Guisheng) in your own body—the sign that the one yang first arises. “Gui is born” refers to the omen in inner refinement that yang qi is stirring. When is that moment? It is like reaching the end of a stream and sitting down to watch the clouds rise.

II. True Lead and True Mercury

Once you grasp the timing of cultivation, you must recognize true lead and true mercury. The lead and mercury spoken of here are not ordinary lead, black tin, cinnabar, or quicksilver, but two substances for inner refinement that you already possess. Because the subtle way they interact and unite, the ancients used lead and mercury as metaphors.

The nature of lead seems prone to scatter; the nature of mercury seems prone to run off—yet when lead meets mercury it no longer scatters, and when mercury meets lead it no longer runs. The “medicines” in the body behave the same way. Want to know what it looks like when the medicine appears? It is like clouds rising between the southern and northern hills.

III. Gathering the Medicine into the Furnace

Recognizing the medicine is not yet the marvel; knowing how to gather and refine it is what truly matters. Gathering the medicine never strays from movement and stillness: once it is gathered amid movement and stillness, it is placed in the “furnace of non-action and natural transformation” (a image for the body-mind’s spontaneous refining and nurturing of the medicine), tempered by the “samadhi true fire” (the focused inner heat applied in practice), refined into purple powder and condensed into the dark pearl (Xuanzhu—a symbol of the refined essence).

Take it inward and you may long life and clear vision—enduring existence and preserved vitality. How to understand the line about condensing the dark pearl? It is like grasping clouds across ten thousand acres of green mountains, or like lifting a moon from the depths of an emerald pool.

IV. Withdrawing Lead and Adding Mercury

To understand “refining the medicine” (a term in Neidan internal alchemy), one must first understand “drawing out and adding”: drawing off what is excessive and using it to fill what is lacking. In the world, humans, asuras (a class of beings in Buddhist cosmology), humans and non-humans, and the like often have surplus desire but insufficient innate nature, surplus stray thoughts but insufficient spirit-mind, surplus refined essence (Jing) but insufficient original Qi (vital energy). Forgetting desire to nourish innate nature, gathering stray thoughts so spirit-mind becomes one, and refining essence so it transforms into original Qi—all of this is called “drawing out and adding.”

Even after excess has been drawn off and lack has been filled, that is still not especially sublime; one must go on cultivating until there is nothing to draw off and nothing to add. What is meant by neither drawing nor adding? Ah! Neither a bit too much nor a bit too little—take what is at hand, and it is just right.

V. Fire Timing and the Celestial Circuit

When one reaches the state where drawing and adding are no longer needed, it is exactly the time to apply “fire timing” (the skill in Neidan of adjusting spirit-mind and thoughts). Some say true fire has no fixed timing; others say not to treat fire timing as if it were literal fire. Well—these two sayings have both confused many people and opened many eyes. I will tell you plainly: “fire” means the heart-mind; “timing” means thoughts. Using the heart-mind to refine thoughts is called fire timing; when the heart-mind is settled and thoughts cease, the work of fire timing is complete.

Yet though one may speak this way, one must neither cling to heart-mind and thoughts nor leave them behind. Leaving thoughts behind becomes empty illusion; clinging to them turns them into solid things. To say it lies within heart-mind and thoughts is wrong; to say it lies apart from them is also wrong. What should one actually do? Ah! Cold passes and summer heat returns; in autumn one harvests, in winter one stores.

VI. Holding Fullness and Securing Nourishment

After thoughts cease, neither cling to thoughts nor leave them behind. What should one actually do? Ah! Cold passes and summer heat returns; in autumn one harvests, in winter one stores.

〔VI〕 Holding Fullness and Securing Nourishment

When practicing cultivation and performing the work, one must know how to guard the state of completion already attained. If one does not know how to hold to fullness, the effort invested earlier may all come to nothing. Ziyang Zhenren said: “If one does not take guarding fullness as the heart-method, one will inevitably one day meet danger and disgrace.” Taishang said: “Those who hold to this Dao do not seek to fill to the brim.” That is exactly the point.

What, then, counts as guarding fullness? It is already full, yet not allowed to overflow. Only then can what has been gained be kept for long.

Seven. Sealing and Fixing the Cauldron Furnace

After one understands guarding fullness, one must also seal the cauldron furnace tightly. “Sealing and fixing” (guji) means firmly sealing the earthen cauldron (tu fu). The slightest deviation can cause a great departure from the path. Therefore, when the firing of the fire-phases is complete and the cycles of the heavenly circuit are sufficient, one should gather in the radiance and abide in silent non-action (wuwei), so that breathing becomes long, fine, and subtle. Through all twelve double-hours one must keep watch without break, until the “medicine” is fully cooked—only then can one reach a state of ease and self-mastery.

What signs appear when the medicine is cooked? It is like a full moon on this night: clear light everywhere, nothing left in shadow.

Eight. Warming and Nourishing

After the golden elixir (jindan) appears, one must still apply effort in warming and nourishing. Warming and nourishing is like a woman carrying a pregnancy: whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must be careful and single-minded, watching at every moment; it is also like an ox nurturing a yellow calf, or a dragon guarding a precious pearl. One must always hold the inner state and not let it break off, until “separation of the embryo” (fen tai)—then one can truly stand on solid ground. What counts as separation of the embryo? It is like a melon or gourd when ripe: the stem naturally drops away.

Nine. Adjusting the Spirit to Exit the Shell

Once embryonic breathing (taixi)—the fetal-like inner state in neidan practice—is established, one must be especially careful in regulating the coming and going of the original spirit (yuanshen). The analogy is a mother cherishing an infant: where the child sleeps, what it eats, how it rises and retires—the mother watches over everything. Even when the child can walk, she still guards it lest it fall into a ditch. Only when the child can act on its own may the mother leave its side. Cultivating the original spirit follows the same principle. Zhongli Gong said: “While the child is young and not yet fully grown, it depends entirely on the mother’s nurturing; after three years and nine cycles, when human effort is complete, one can roam heaven and earth and no longer rely on one’s parents.” That is exactly the point.

These words must not be clung to as fixed stages or literal realms; one need only guard against danger at every moment and cultivate with caution. Only when the furnace-vessel (luding—the body-mind and the alchemical process in neidan) is overturned together does one reach the realm of carefree freedom—going and coming without constraint, wandering beyond things, and sharing one body with the Great Void. “Overturning the furnace-vessel,” in a single phrase, means the household is shattered and people are gone, the void and all things are pulverized, and alone a single round elixir toad (danchan—the image of the perfected inner elixir) stands revealed.

Prelude to Water Tune

The highest Dao cannot be put into words; its wondrous power cannot be measured. The Dao is complete from the start—adding to it does no harm, subtracting from it does no loss. Cultivation does not lie in hearing widely or reading many books; in stillness one silently apprehends and finely investigates the true meaning—and that meaning never strays from the central yellow (zhonghuang, the central region in the body in neidan).

Whole and fused, bright and shining, it appears clear and complete—nothing superfluous, nothing lacking. The whole person is without form or image, yet aligned with the true and constant Dao.

Now, silently knowing this one point, you are the Maitreya of the future; in this very moment you must personally bear and realize it. Open the gate of the crown and the inner eye (dingmenyan—awakened insight), and you will find it filling heaven and earth with nowhere to hide.

Essentials of the Golden Elixir

The Great Dao cannot be spoken; yet without words the Great Dao cannot be made clear. The golden elixir (jindan—the fruit of inner alchemy) has no fixed form; yet without form how can anyone recognize it? Therefore the sages took their pattern from the movement and forms of heaven and earth, used the Dao to teach the world, and established various names so people might grasp the true meaning: open the gate of the crown and the inner eye, and you will see it pervading heaven and earth with nowhere to hide.

The Dao itself cannot be expressed directly in words; without language, there is no way to make the Dao manifest. The Golden Elixir has no fixed form; without form, how can one recognize it? Therefore sages take heaven and earth as their model, teach the world through the Dao, establish various names and symbols, and compose alchemical scriptures to guide people of different capacities.

Regrettably, seekers today cling to surface symbols and written words, get stuck in literal phrasing, and each develops a private interpretation—so conflicting doctrines multiply and the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism) follow separate paths without mutual integration. This is because they do not see the shared root. I have now set the essentials of Golden Elixir creation into thirty-five verse summaries, clarifying the principles, pointing straight to the common meaning behind different names. The title is Secrets of the Golden Elixir, offered to Retired Hermit Layman so he may grasp it easily. Whoever can move from words to meaning will naturally hold to the root and return to emptiness and stillness, arriving directly at the deep and subtle realm.

Nature and Life (Xing and Ming)

The primordial true suchness (original, unfabricated nature) is called “nature” (xing); the pre-heaven single Qi (primordial breath before heaven and earth) is called “life” (ming).

Human nature is originally vast and spiritually responsive; it is only because the body constrains it that its clarity cannot fully shine. If you can now release all those constraints, the inherent light will appear again.

Substance and Function (Ti and Yong)

Taking heaven and earth as model is called “substance”; bearing yin and yang and making them unite and operate is called “function.”

Heaven and earth are the foundation of cultivation; yin and yang are the pivot of transformation—these crucial points are understood by very few.

Dragon and Tiger

The primordial Qi in the heart is called “dragon”; the primordial essence (jing) in the body is called “tiger.”

When nature is settled, the dragon returns to water; when emotional thoughts are forgotten, the tiger hides in the mountains. When nature and emotion harmonize and join, one may be counted among the immortals and perfected ones.

Lead and Mercury

The Great One Spirit Spring (symbolizing the body’s subtle true water) is called “lead”; the Vermilion Mound Fire Palace (symbolizing the seat of true fire within) is called “mercury.”

To refine mercury from the “southern mountains,” you must first draw out lead from the “northern sea.” When body is at ease and mind unmoved, the precious essence gathers and solidifies.

Cauldron and Furnace

True metal of the Qian palace (symbolizing firm, pure yang qi) is called the “cauldron”; true earth of the Kun palace (symbolizing yielding, dense yin qi) is called the “furnace.”

The cauldron is cast from Qian metal; the furnace is wrapped in Kun earth. Once body and mind are upright, cauldron and furnace naturally stand firm.

Elixir and Stove

The single spiritual true nature (nature that is bright and undimmed) is called the “elixir”; the body temporarily composed of the four elements earth, water, fire, and wind is called the “stove.”

The illusory body is the furnace for refining the elixir; True Suchness (the mind-nature as it truly is) is the medicinal material. Cultivation must be unbroken day after day; in deep absorption the spirit fetus forms—the image, in internal alchemy, of inward essence and breath gathering into one.

Being and Non-Being

To treat what is hollow as solid, like grasping wind or embracing a shadow; to treat what is not there as obtainable, like cupping water or scooping the moon—this is clinging to being and non-being.

Only when you know how to leave behind the interwoven Kan and Li (Water and Fire, and the two forces of Yin and Yang) do you see that being is also non-being. When being and non-being merge into one, you refine the night-luminous pearl—a figure for the clear state won through practice.

Medicine and Fire

Using Qi to gather in desire is called “medicine”; using the heart to refine stray thoughts is called “fire.”

Gathering the medicine was always easy; cooking and refining is not hard either. When the heart holds no miscellaneous affairs, the true fire can pass through the three passes—the key openings along the body in cultivation.

The Mysterious Female (Xuanpin)

The realm like an empty, deep valley is called “mysterious” (xuan); the gate of returning to the root and recovering life is called “female” (pin).

When the breath of the empty valley returns to the root, that is the gate of Heaven and Earth. Once Yin and Yang open and penetrate each other, the golden cauldron (a symbol in Neidan) is kept in gentle nurturing warmth.

Centrality and Correctness

Still and not rashly moved—this is “central”; responding to things with fitting action—this is “correct.”

Only when the heart is quiet is there correctness; only when the spirit is clear is there centrality. When the mind-ground is lucid, you can often rest unmoved, and the pattern of Heaven will naturally reach you through resonance.

Numinous Treasure (Lingbao)

When the hundred spirits do not scatter, it is called “numinous”; when the myriad streams of Qi endure, it is called “treasure.”

Within yourself there is already a treasure; when you put it to use, numinous subtlety appears. If you sincerely nourish and guard it, great luminous clarity can shine forth.

Clarity and Stillness

When the clear bright source of spirit does not stir, it is “clear”; when the ground of mind-nature is free of dust, it is “still” (pure).

The spirit water (a Neidan term, often the inner elixir, essence, or fluids within) is clear by nature; once it flows, it no longer stays settled. Now you need only let it rest unmoved, and the light of wisdom will show of itself.

Withdrawal and Addition

Forgetting desire and cutting off stray thoughts is called “withdrawal”; refining desire and nourishing mind-nature is called “addition.”

Nourishing mind-nature is called adding mercury (mercury in Neidan stands for yin essence); forgetting desire is called reducing lead (lead stands for yang essence). When body and spirit both reach a subtle state, nothing need be reduced and nothing need be added.

Ablution (Muyu)

Wiping the mind-ground is called “mu” ( bathing the brow); washing away worldly toil is called “yu” ( bathing the body).

If you wish to tame the restless heart-monkey, first you must rein in the hard-to-tame will-horse (heart-monkey and will-horse mean a scattered, restless mind). When not a thread of dust clings to you, spirit and Qi can join and grow together.

Nourishing mind-nature is called adding mercury; forgetting desire is called reducing lead. When body and spirit both reach a subtle state, nothing need be reduced and nothing need be added.

Polishing and cleansing the mind-ground is called mu (ritual bathing); washing away worldly vexation and fatigue is called yu (immersion).

To settle the galloping “mind-monkey,” one must first rein in the hard-to-tame “intent-horse.” When the inner heart does not cling even to the finest dust, Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) in practice can merge with the heart.

Return and Encounter (Fu and Gou)

When yin reaches its limit and yang begins to rise, it is called fu (Return); when yang reaches its limit and yin begins to rise, it is called gou (Encounter).

When yin is at its extreme, yang returns and is reborn; once yang has arisen, yin gradually encroaches again. Practitioners who grasp this principle can perceive the “heart of heaven” (the inner pivot of cosmic generation, also the true nature revealed in cultivation).

Union

Mutual blending of two things is called jiao (intercourse); gathering of the three treasures (Jing, Qi, Shen and related elements in practice) is called he (convergence).

The “Crimson Maid” (a neidan term, often the mind-spirit or the yin pole) dwells at ease in the eastern chamber; the “Metal Lord” (a neidan term, often primordial Qi or the yang pole) abides in the west. The “Yellow Dame” (the mediating force that harmonizes the pair) brings them together; matched in union, they are like husband and wife joined.

Nurturing Warmth

Unbroken natural breath (long, soft, spontaneous respiration) is called wen (warming); holding light within and guarding silence is called yang (nurturing).

After the inner elixir is formed like a fetus in the womb, it must still be warmed and nurtured. In practice one must watch and guard it constantly; when maturity is reached, one can shed the ordinary body and manifest numinous efficacy.

Reversion and Restoration

Qi merging with Shen is called fan (return); desire reverting to true nature is called huan (restoration).

To let “metal” (in alchemy, true nature or true Qi) return to its root, one must first bring “fire” (the mind-spirit) back into the heart. When the two become one, body and mind everywhere become as pure and precious as gold.

Gathering and Release

Entering the gate of hidden stillness is called shou (gathering); leaving the path where the multitude loses its way is called fang (release).

The luminous nature has existed from antiquity; its wondrous operation cannot be measured. When expanded, it pervades the entire dharma-realm; when gathered, it is stored in a cinnabar pearl as small as a grain of millet.

Emptiness and Penetration

Not clinging to being, nor clinging to non-being, is called xu (emptiness); inner and outer both empty and unobstructed is called che (penetration).

Clinging to “being” ultimately falls into illusion; insisting only on “non-being” also misses the point. When neither being nor non-being is grasped, inner and outer are alike clear and open.

Numinous Penetration

Awakening to the root and knowing the source is called ling (numinous clarity); the mind broad and without obstruction is called tong (penetration).

Recognizing the face one originally has by nature, one knows there is no fixed Buddha or immortal to grasp. With a mind open and unobstructed, one can remain at ease even when the blue sea turns into mulberry fields.

Perfect Roundness and Illumination

Embodying the whole Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) Way is called yuan (roundness); piercing the empty void and manifesting clarity is called ming (illumination).

When practice reaches the proper firing, the inner elixir takes form; when merit and work are complete, the treasure obtained is firm and indestructible. Nature is like the toad-moon’s light, from which the form appears; its radiance can illumine the time before life has yet manifested.

Awakening and Illumination

To strip away every kind of illusion is called “awakening”; to let the true, unchanging nature shine forth is called “illumination.”

When the one primordial Qi (yuanqi, the source breath of the primordial beginning) returns to the original state, the original spirit (yuanshen, one’s root spiritual nature) reverts to the primeval beginning. Every attachment is cleared away, and only the real, unchanging nature remains visible.

Complete Authenticity

To be pure and undivided, without admixture, is called “complete”; to be one with the vast void (taixu) is called “authentic.”

Single-mindedness without stray thoughts is “awakening”; the disclosure of the true, constant nature is “illumination.”

The one primordial Qi returns to the origin, the original spirit returns to the primeval beginning; all entanglements are removed, and only the genuine, unchanging nature appears.

Complete Authenticity

Purity without mixture is “complete”; unity with the vast void is “authentic.”

The mind can be focused yet still meet every kind of thought; the destination is the same though the paths differ. Whoever grasps complete authenticity finds body and mind merged with the primeval beginning.

Quatrain: For Cheng Jie’an

Cultivation values Wuwei (non-action); the work is done in emptiness and stillness. Naturally the jade-bright moon (qiongchan—a luminous image often standing for the light that appears in Neidan, internal alchemy) will shine on green cliffs. Practice without ceasing day and night until Qi is stable and spirit full, and an infant-like inner elixir is formed.

Jie’an has seen through the world’s heat and cold; he gathers his light and hides his edge, quietly nurturing mind-nature. He best understands that true delight: scooping clear water from an emerald pool and playing with the bright moon reflected there.

The pure hermitage was empty from the start; only a jade moon is nurtured within. When the work is complete and the “three-five-one” (sanyi—internal alchemy’s convergence of key elements) is realized, that light fills the four directions.

Confucians probe heavenly principle, Buddhists investigate Chan, Daoists refine the Golden Elixir and follow nature. Only the jade moon runs through all three teachings; if the cultivator opens the eye of the crown gate (a symbol of awakening), the complete Dharma body (fāshen—the perfected spiritual body beyond physical limits) may be achieved.

The master was first a scholar versed in Confucian learning, then received the orthodox transmission of immortal cultivation. Seeing through true emptiness he attained great awakening; the jade moon appeared, alone illuminating heaven and earth.

The pure hermitage was empty from the start; only a jade moon is nurtured within. When the work is complete and the “three-five-one” is realized, that light fills the four directions.

Confucians probe heavenly principle, Buddhists investigate Chan, Daoists refine the Golden Elixir and follow nature. Only the jade moon runs through all three teachings; if the cultivator opens the eye of the crown gate, the complete Dharma body may be achieved.

The master was first a scholar versed in Confucian learning, then received the orthodox transmission of immortal cultivation. Seeing through true emptiness he attained great awakening; the jade moon appeared, alone illuminating heaven and earth.

Another Five-Character Quatrain: For Cheng Jie’an

Apart from the Mysterious Pass (xuanguan—the gate where one realizes the root of nature and life in cultivation), nothing else is the real key. To speak only of Wuwei without knowing how to apply effort is to stall forever; to force and act willfully is wasted toil.

When mind-nature is settled, Kan and Li (water and fire, heart and kidney, and the yin-yang pair in alchemy) no longer clash; when the inner mirror is clear, wood and metal (mu and jin—two of the Five Phases in alchemical language) can unite. When all four return to one place, it is entirely through Jie’an’s practice.

Keep the mind steadily centered in rectitude, and do not let the spirit wander outward and lose itself. Jie’an (Courtyard of Purity, the style name of Cheng Jie’an) can often hold to single-minded stillness; then one may nourish the inner jing, qi, and shen as one nurtures an infant.

The cowherd by the river stands; the weaver maid passes beside the bridge. In a single moment they meet, and heart and intent naturally harmonize and join.

Red flames rise from the bottom of the sea; white waves surge on the mountaintop. When Jie’an is joyful and at ease, one often hears the wooden man sing. These images are symbolic descriptions within inner refinement.

The elixir cauldron hangs high, like a cauldron of gestation; within the furnace is set the Taiyi furnace (in inner practice, the furnace-vessel symbolizing the mingling of nature and life). Once you know where the “medicine” is generated, you may begin to apply yourself in earnest to cultivation.

In an instant, white waves rise above the head; when Jie’an is joyful and at ease, one often hears the wooden man sing.

The elixir cauldron hangs high, like a cauldron of gestation; within the furnace is set the Taiyi furnace. Once you know where the “medicine” is generated, you may begin to apply yourself in earnest to cultivation.

In the blink of an eye, emptiness and fullness connect; one must still go further, passing from “being” into “non-being.” Jie’an’s practice is complete, and one obtains the night-pearl (symbolizing the luminous realm attained through inner refinement).

Before the “medicine” has formed, do not act rashly; once “lead is born” (a neidan term for the generated elixir-medicine in practice), hurry to apply effort. To drive the elixir chariot one must rely on the Kan tiger (a symbolic figure associated with the Kan trigram); to kindle the furnace fire one must borrow the mysterious wind (the circulation of breath-energy in inner work).

When yin and yang in their two forms unite in feeling, the paths through the three passes within the body (gateways through which qi is said to move in cultivation) open and connect. Where the cloud-qi of the nature-heaven (one’s original nature and inner heart-mind) rises, light fills Jie’an’s inner realm bright red.

Speak through to the aim of wuwei (non-action); the meaning of the mysterious pass (the inner pivotal gateway in practice) is profound. If you wish to seek the treasure of heaven, you must first find the gold in water (in neidan, “gold” symbolizes refined essence or the medicinal principle).

In the place of spirit-clarity there is not a thread of obscurity; in Jie’an’s heart there is not a speck of dust. The jade toad (the bright, full moon, here symbolizing the light of the inner elixir) is pure as jade, its radiance piercing the nine heavens.

One, two, three, four, five; east, west, south, north, and center—the Five Phases gather in one place, all depending on the Golden Duke (the symbolic name for the metal principle).

When you have obtained the “One,” all affairs are complete. Then where does the “One” abide? If you can even forget this “One,” that is the golden elixir (the root sought in neidan practice).

Formlessness (wangxiang, that which cannot be seen or described) precedes Heaven and Earth; chaos without form also lies before the innate. After innate and chaos unite, beyond the mysterious there is no mystery deeper still.

Preserve sincerity, and in the end you may enter the sage’s realm; harbor reverence, and you may penetrate the mysterious. In movement and stillness alike there is no obstruction—free and at ease, delighting in what is natural.

On the Three Teachings—Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist—Presented to Cheng Jie’an

Confucian Teaching

Investigating things and extending knowledge ( probing the principles in things to deepen and complete understanding)

Within the myriad things is contained the subtle principle of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). Preserve sincerity, and you may enter the realm where the innate and chaos mingle; beyond the mysterious, there is no mystery deeper still.

Preserve sincerity, and in the end you may enter the sage’s realm; harbor reverence, and you may penetrate the mysterious. In movement and stillness alike there is no obstruction—free and at ease, delighting in what is natural.

On the Three Teachings—Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist—Presented to Cheng Jie’an

Confucian Teaching

Investigating things and extending knowledge

All things each embody the subtle principle of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). With inner honesty and reverence, one can discern the turning points of change within them. The Way is without sound or taste and has no visible form, yet it clearly manifests in all things; understanding this, one’s actions do not go against how things themselves are.

Rectifying the Heart and Making Intentions Sincere

Honesty, clarity, quietness, and single-minded focus are the root of cultivating the Way. Movement and stillness depend on each other; neither can ever be separated from the other. In daily life, always keep the mind upright, and the principle of Heaven will respond naturally.

The Human Mind Is Precarious

Alas, people cling to delusion; chasing sounds and outer things, the spirit easily tilts and falls into danger. If one returns to principle, reflects, and inquires into oneself, the heart-nature settles, body and mind become balanced, and the spirit is naturally at ease.

The Mind of the Dao Is Subtle

The Dao is right in the ordinary life of common people. It shows forth benevolence and also hides its working, thereby producing wondrous efficacy. Principle lacks nothing and is always present; it is only that ordinary people often fail to see it clearly.

Only Refinement and Unity

The substance and function of the heart of Heaven (the inherent heart of heavenly principle) are exquisitely subtle and hold deep mechanisms. Cast off the false and return to the real, and one can enter the realm of subtlety. Refining principle and reaching the marvelous depends on being single-minded and settled; when effort accumulates deeply, one can attain “xiyi”—the Daoist state so fine it cannot be heard or seen.

Sincerely Holding the Center

To truly grasp profound and subtle principle, one must steadfastly put it into practice. The great Way is broad and level; however one applies it, one must guard inner centrality and balance. Thus danger can turn to stability, and principles once hard to discern become clear.

Investigating Principle to the Fullest and Nature to the Fullest

What matters most in cultivation is keeping sincere heart-intent and beginning with investigating principle. The fruit of investigating principle lies in carrying sincerity to its utmost. When sincerity reaches its limit and principle is thoroughly explored, one can apprehend the root of Heaven and Earth; the nature Heaven bestows is revealed and shines forth.

Extending to Destiny

One who delights in following heavenly principle and knows one’s allotted destiny is a true noble person; one who exhausts principle and probes the hidden is a great sage. The key is holding fast to centrality as the root; fully understanding this root, one penetrates marvelous principle.

Nothing Beyond Loyalty and Forbearance

Use the heart that blames others to demand of yourself; use the heart that forgives yourself to be lenient toward others. When both loyalty and forbearance are achieved, one has truly penetrated the great Way; persisting without violating humaneness, one can see things through from start to finish.

Again Beholding the Heart of Heaven

When yin qi is exhausted, yang qi renews its growth. At this time one must firmly guard the yuanguan—the crucial bodily and mental pass in practice—and not rashly open it. When stillness reaches its extreme, look closely at the slightest stir of nascent life within; the heart of Heaven becomes clear and penetrating, and one grasps the original root of things.

Knowledge Extending Through All Things

All things in the world possess heavenly principle, yet people today rarely truly understand. Trace a thing’s beginning and examine its end, and one can grasp the complete principle of Taiji; exhaust the marvelous and know change, and in the end one enters the realm of wuwei (non-action).

Withdraw and Store in the Secret Depth

Primordial Great Change (the root principle before the cosmos had differentiated) is deep and hard to fathom, vast yet subtle; its wonder cannot be put into words. Only by pondering and probing the arcane truth do you find that mystery lies in yourself; by purifying the mind and withdrawing inward, you ultimately take sincerity as your foundation.

Constant Vigilance in Solitude

Though you cannot see it or hear it, whether in what is manifest or what is hidden, you must always remain reverent and sincere. Others may find it hard to fathom how you apply this subtle mechanism, yet the upright intent of Heaven will in the end make itself clear of its own accord.

One Thread Running Through

Each thing in itself holds one Taiji (the fundamental whole of change in all things). The pivot of creation embraces Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, yang and yin); whether things go smoothly or meet with hardship, all are threaded through the complete principle of Heaven. Hold to the root and return to the original source, and you align with nature.

Return to Wuji

From Wuji (the undifferentiated, formless root), Taiji is fully complete; once Taiji takes form, it divides into the two modes of yin and yang. The principles of the ten thousand things and of the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are all complete within my own person. Returning to the root of Wuji is the foundation of the sage’s cultivation.

Buddhist Teaching

Two Bodies, One Substance

The Dharma body (the Buddha’s pure nature) is originally still and without form; once it has a visible shape, how can it still be called the perfect Dharma body? Even if countless transformation bodies appear, if they do not return to oneness, that is still not true completeness.

Three Minds, Yet One

Past mind, present mind, and future mind were always one; trace them to their source and they are originally empty. To lump them together or split them apart is only expedient teaching. If you can be unstained in the present moment, past and future both dissolve into emptiness.

Clear Obstacles and Awaken to Emptiness

Do not merely boast or talk Zen in empty words; clarify the inner mind and cut off tangled attachments. Let go even of learned views and knowledge; when the clouds of confusion disperse, the bright moon in the heart shines full and round.

Subtle and Manifest Without Gap

After you have seen, you should still be as if you had not seen; if you cannot contain and gather yourself inward, you fall back into confusion. To hide yourself and leave no trace—that is what deserves to be called a golden-haired lion cub (a brave practitioner with real inner strength).

Establish Neither Being Nor Non-Being

Clinging to “being” or to “non-being” both miss the mark; discard both sides and you fall into empty nothing. To say being and non-being coexist is still only illusion. Hold the middle way, and you accord with wondrous function.

Precepts, Concentration, and Wisdom

In the midst of action, to keep the inner heart unmoved—only then is one truly keeping the precepts. With genuine stability in concentration, one can align with the patriarchs’ realm. When wisdom rises and illumines the whole dharmadhatu, emotional entanglement and illusory appearances dissolve.

No Fixed Dharma Method

In Chan meditation, if you cling to grasping at dharmic nature, you lose your way; if you leave the gate of practice to chase the abstruse, you also go astray. Realize that all dharmas arise from the mind; when notions of dharmas empty out and the mind-ground is still, you can meet Muni (Shakyamuni Buddha).

Empty Clarity and Penetrating Spirit

Empty openness and quiet settling allow you to penetrate the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin—the root of generation in Daoist teaching); thorough poverty and self-restraint are the foundation of entering the Way. When the mind-ground is pure, the mind-moon appears; in the stillness of Chan, radiant light shows forth on its own.

True Suchness and Awakening-Nature

True nature is originally complete—just as it is, unmoving, its light filling the zenith. Bright and clear, without obstruction, it breaks through delusion and darkness; the pure mind-moon appears, and in the stillness of Chan, radiant light shows forth on its own.

True Suchness and Awakening-Nature

True nature is originally complete—just as it is, unmoving, its light filling the zenith. Bright and clear, without obstruction, it pierces through the primordial chaos before heaven and earth were divided.

Constant Joy, True Self, and Stillness

Nourish spirit and temper aspiration; aspire to clarity, emptiness, and brightness. All day long, free and at ease, letting body and mind expand or gather as they will. True joy is best tasted in the depth of concentration; within the stillness of Chan, the clear, unmoving realm appears.

Mending a Tattered Robe in the Morning Sun

Under the morning sun, mending a tattered kasaya—is it only for show? Patch the shoulder, then the waist; once a tear is mended, the cloth tears again. In the end, how can that compare with shedding the garment and having nothing left to hold?

Finishing the Last Fascicle of Scripture by Moonlight

The bright moon in the sky has only half emerged, yet the dull person hurries to read the final section through. Suddenly a small cloud drifts over, and both eyes are as if blind—they see nothing at all.

The Diamond Sutra Pagoda

Clearly it is a seamless pagoda, yet others forcefully break it open. On all eight faces and four sides are eyes; in the center appears the living Tathagata (title of the Buddha).

Daoism

Quietude and Wuwei (Non-Action)

Quietude is originally without words; once you deliberately act, you lose what is natural. In silent attunement you penetrate the subtle and open the heart’s aperture; the spirit transforms and gathers into precious, solid cultivation.

Supreme Ultimate Truth

Skillfully applying the way of Wuwei (non-action), one resonates with heaven and earth; above, below, and in between, one must discern the root. Only by entering genuine concentration can one penetrate this single purport—true suchness appears, like light opening the gate of heaven.

True Origin and Wondrous Function

Do not look only at having mind or having no mind: with no mind alone, how can you awaken to the mind of heaven? Clinging to having mind, you will in the end be dragged by thoughts. Put aside both having mind and no mind; then awakening-nature can be pure.

Reduce Again and Again

The inner trigram Gen and the outer trigram Dui interlock to form Mountain over Lake (Shan Ze), the Loss (Sun) hexagram among the sixty-four hexagrams of the Yijing. Here the cultivator is reminded to grasp the principle of “loss”: only then does true nature show itself, like light piercing straight through the Gate of Heaven.

The Subtle Function of True Yuan

Do not weigh “no-mind” or “having mind” too heavily. If you cling only to no-mind, how can you awaken to the Heart of Heaven? If you cling to having mind, you will in the end be dragged by thoughts. Release both having mind and no-mind, and awakened nature becomes pure.

Loss Upon Loss

Gen and Dui interlock to form Mountain over Lake, the Loss hexagram. It warns one to restrain anger and cut off resentment and obsession. As inner clinging is reduced again and again, one no longer forces oneself down by suppression; letting go of the fixation on learning through distinctions and following Wuwei (non-action) is the foundation of entering the sage’s realm.

Three Returns Day and Night

The principle of the primordial Dao is not easy to find. One should be diligent all day long and guard the pure original nature. “Three returns” refers to the practice in cultivation of repeatedly returning to the source—bringing that into daily life. When the Mysterious Pass (the key inner gate in practice that opens toward the Dao) is fully penetrated, one can refine the Yang Spirit (the purely yang spirit spoken of in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice).

One Gain, Gain Forever

Clinging to learned views and knowledge is all like grime; even the stages of śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha (names of Buddhist paths of cultivation) still belong to worldly discrimination. Wash the heart and sweep away stray thoughts, and the mind-state becomes as clear as the heaven of dhyāna. Both ordinary people and sages can look up to the light of the sun of wisdom.

Withdrawing Lead and Adding Mercury

“Withdrawing lead” means reducing worldly entanglements; “adding mercury” means nourishing original nature. When emotion and nature fuse into one, cultivation of the immortal path is complete; when lead and mercury congeal, it symbolizes the inner Golden Elixir (Neidan) perfected.

The Gate of the Dark Female

The Mysterious Pass and the “female gate” (Neidan terms for bodily gates and openings tied to practice) are the doorway of the Dao. When the gate opens it belongs to Qian; when it closes it belongs to Kun—borrow Qian and Kun to stand for yin-yang change. The lost busy themselves seeking at mouth and nose; how can the true Yuan of one’s destiny return to the root?

Leaving the Crowd’s Deluded Byway

Cast aside fame and profit and rest in quiet emptiness; cut away all kinds of illusory ties. When the sea of nature calms, it is like a boat reaching the far shore; a single round moon rises from the cloud path.

Entering the Door of Xiyi

When the three passes (the gates spoken of in practice) are penetrated, one can reach the mysterious and true Dao. The root of real creation is Wuwei and accord with nature. One step crosses beyond the formless heavens; lifting the head, one is already in Daluo Heaven (the highest heaven in Daoist cosmology).

Many Words, Number Exhausted

Thousands of scriptures and treatises expound the aim, yet those who have lost the way each hold a different view. Clever debate and lofty talk, boasting of sharp wit—in the end one still falls into stubborn emptiness (treating emptiness as mere blank nothingness).

Better to Hold the Center

Talking mystery and marvel without ever truly penetrating—better to silently guard the central place within. Neither leaning nor tipping, the Mysterious Pass can open; holding steady without change, one can match the sage’s practice.

The Nine-Turn Divine Elixir

The nine-turn divine elixir: the text’s closing theme ties Loss to the completion of the elixir through repeated refinement—(the section title stands as the capstone of the hexagram reading in the original structure).

Raise the cauldron and dry up the Four Great Seas (symbolizing the vast waters of heaven and earth); set up the furnace and refine to pieces the five empty expanses (symbolizing boundless void). When the Golden Elixir is complete, its form is vast, embracing the Three Realms (the desire realm, the form realm, and the formless realm)—this is when the practitioner’s work is done and aspiration fulfilled.

The Dao That Can Be Spoken Is Not the Constant Dao

The True Constant Dao (the eternal, unchanging Way) cannot be made clear in words. Whatever can be stated plainly has already strayed from it; only by not altering the root can one align with the sage’s cultivated attainment.

Nine-Turn Divine Elixir

Raise the cauldron and dry up the Four Great Seas; set up the furnace and refine to pieces the five empty expanses. When the Golden Elixir is complete, its form is vast, embracing the Three Realms—this is when the practitioner’s work is done and aspiration fulfilled.

The Dao That Can Be Spoken Is Not the Constant Dao

The True Constant Dao cannot be made clear in words. If one explains it in full detail, one has turned away from the root. If one can grasp the meaning of the Dao in silence, one need not expend extra effort and can still achieve complete attainment.

Postface

I once heard that the Supreme Lord (Taishang—the honorific in Daoism for the highest deity or the Great Dao) opened the way of teaching and drew later generations onward; thus arose the learning of immortals. Can the learning of immortals be made clear in ordinary words? One must meet someone who truly holds the Dao before the heart’s aperture can be opened, so that one understands the pivot of yin and yang opening and closing, penetrates the principle of uniting nature (xing) and life (ming), and reaches a state of transcendent independence, responding to things and transforming without limit. Only then may one speak of the learning of immortals.

Since the Eastern Flower Emperor (Donghua Dijun) transmitted the lineage and Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin (the two immortals Zhong and Lü) spread the teaching, the immortals who appeared in succession were all broadly learned and discerning: above, they assisted rulers in advancing the Way; below, they bestowed kindness on the people and aided their livelihood. The mysterious wind of the Dao thus flourished all the more, and in every age those who sought study and immortality were never few.

Later there appeared Ying Chanzi Li Qing’an. His foundation in the Dao was deep; he received secret transmission from immortals. The aims of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism were all clear in his mind. People from all directions, hearing of his learning, came to his door to seek instruction in numbers too great to count. He elucidated the subtle points of the Golden Elixir (Jindan—the core theory of internal alchemy), and recorded the questions and answers with his disciples, the resolution of doubts, and his quick-witted replies, compiling them into Records of Qing’an (Qing’an Yulu).

I have read this book repeatedly and find that every section is without superfluous words and every sentence without idle characters. Throughout it expounds the teaching left by the Supreme Lord and also reveals principles that earlier true persons had not yet brought to light. One may say it is both lucid and subtle. This book corresponds with and complements The Harmony Collection (Zhonghe Ji). The Daoist Deng Tanran of Jingnan had long copied this text; now he has had it carved and printed so that it may circulate for a long time and Qing’an’s instruction not be lost. From this one can see the breadth of his intent.

Those who study the Way of immortals, if they can seek out and read this book, will surely gain insight and be stirred to effort—such help is no small matter. Hunranzi, a later student of the Xiu River in Nanchang, respectfully records this.

Gathering of the Dao and Its Virtue (Daode Huiyuan)

Annotated by Li Daochun, Qing’an’s Ying Chanzi, a participant in study at Duliang

I believe that when Fu Xi drew the hexagrams and developed the Yi (Changes), he revealed the principle of the innate (xiantian zhi li); when Laozi wrote his book, he fully clarified Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power). These two classics are probably the fountainhead of the various scriptures. Scholars today fail to grasp their meaning—why? Likely because they have not received correct transmission.

I have never understood hexagram drawing myself. Later I sought widely for instruction and met someone who had attained the Dao. He pointed out the heart of the Yi for me, so that I came to grasp its subtlety. I then set down what I had gained in San Tian Yi Sui (Marrow of the Three Heavens Yi) and passed it on to disciples. Yet toward Laozi’s Dao De Jing, I had never been able to study it through to clarity.

One day Chuan Ji’an brought me the Dao De Bao Zhang (Precious Chapters on the Dao and De) by the Zi Qing Zhenren (Perfected One of Purple Clarity) to read. After reading, I felt its commentary accorded fairly well with the intent of the classic, though some passages were not fully explained. I wished to add a few lines of my own, but after repeated reflection I did not dare speak lightly. Later two or three scholars each brought several kinds of commentary and asked my guidance.

I first compared each house’s commentaries with the text of the Dao De Jing and found many discrepancies: in some places an extra character, in others one missing; sometimes whole lines differed; there were also corrupt characters and reversed order. Each version had its gains and losses, and they often did not agree with one another. I sighed and said, “If the original text is already like this, how much more so the various commentaries!”

Someone asked why this was so. I said, “At first it was copyists who made mistakes; later, when texts were carved and printed, punctuation and collation could also go wrong; and some earlier readers, where they could not make sense of a passage, added words at will. Errors passed from generation to generation until the material became scattered and confused.”

Another asked, “Which editions are comparatively reliable?” I said, “He Shang Gong’s Zhang Ju (Chapter and Sentence Commentary) and the Zi Qing Zhenren’s Dao De Bao Zhang are comparatively penetrating. Why? Because they connect with the meaning of what precedes and follows, and the reasoning runs coherently from start to finish.”

Someone asked again, “How are the various houses’ explanations of the classic’s meaning?” I said, “They merely differ in personal insight, each clinging to one angle.” When pressed to explain in detail, I said, “They often interpret by private guesswork, not from insight that has truly dawned in one’s own experience, and so they cannot unfold the principle broadly. Those who grasp the way of governing a state get stuck on that side of things alone.”

Some people, having gained insight from the path of internal alchemy (Neidan), become fixated on alchemy alone; some, from military strategy, fixate on strategy; some, from Chan principles, fixate on Chan. Still others speak only of principle and not of concrete affairs, or only of concrete affairs and not of principle. As for expedient adaptation, shrewd scheming, and side paths and crooked byways—once one is caught in them, one becomes narrow and one-sided; all of this strays from the sage’s original intent.

They do not understand that when the sage composed the classic, he was establishing fundamental norms before heaven and earth took form, grasping the pattern beyond the turning of yin and yang, and encompassing everything between heaven and earth. Not a single matter or principle is left out—how can one interpret it by seizing on one aspect alone?

So I spoke at greater length, pointing out one by one for all to see what was hard to reconcile and what conflicted with the sage’s meaning in the scripture. Everyone agreed that this was so. From then on, those who came to ask for instruction grew ever more numerous; I could not remain silent. Beneath each line of the main text I added commentary, explaining the sense of the scripture and calling out contradictions one by one, to show the essentials of nurturing spirit and harmonizing primordial qi. After each chapter I summarized the doctrine and set forth the order of seeking the root and tracing the source; after each chapter I also wrote a eulogy verse to clarify the key points of illuminating the mind and seeing one’s nature.

As for the principles of ritual purification and discipline, governing the state and bringing peace to the realm, social order and law, and the conduct of daily life among the people—whether great or small, fine or coarse, broad or subtle—I explained them as fully as I could. In addition I wrote two pieces, “Rectifying the Language” and “Investigating Principle,” placed before the scripture, to straighten out wording and probe meaning and to dispel readers’ doubts about differing accounts in the text. This book is titled Daode Huiyuan (Meeting of the Dao and Its Source in the Daode Jing). I hope later students will examine it carefully, reflect on it again and again, enter the scripture according to their own insight, and thus avoid one-sided fixation, until they finally penetrate the ultimate Dao and return to the root.

My words are plain and rough—nothing more than a direct exposition of the scripture’s meaning; I dare not assume I am right. Yet compared with other editions, perhaps this one comes somewhat closer to the scripture’s intent. May those who share my aim examine it and judge.

If the Dao could be spoken in words or bounded by concepts, it would not be the truly eternal Dao. The real Dao arises before there was any beginning; it cannot be named. The moment you try to infer or discuss it, you have already strayed; the moment you open your mouth, you have already misspoken.

If the Dao could be put into words, then what exactly is the Dao? If it is said to be beyond words, how are we to know it? To say it can be spoken is wrong; to say it cannot be spoken is also wrong—so what would count as hitting the mark? If one could utter a single phrase that cuts to the heart of the matter, one’s study of the Way would be complete. If you have not yet grasped this, then in daily rising and resting, eating and drinking, and in every turn of thought, look again and again: what is that which stands lofty and alone, lively and free, not set in opposition to the myriad things of the outside world?

Keep examining in this way until even examining can go no further; then suddenly you recognize it for yourself, as if sweat broke out over your whole body—and you understand: it was always on your own person, unchanged through countless aeons. As the saying goes, for an instant the Dao cannot be left behind. In walking, stopping, sitting, or lying down, you never part from it; the ten thousand things of heaven and earth display it everywhere. From ancient times until now there has been only this; heaven and earth are born from it, and every movement in daily life does not leave it.

All that has form will eventually decay; only this endures. Heaven and earth and empty space may also perish; only this does not break. So why can even the sharpest gaze not see through it? Because people have never truly met it face to face; even when they seem to face it, they may still miss it. Where exactly does one go wrong? Do not seek wildly in the wrong direction. How then should one grasp it? Here Qing’an has already pointed it out clearly—it only remains for each person to take it up and realize it for themselves. When you meet one who understands, a lift of the eyebrows is enough to recognize it in the instant. Alas—last night rain fell along the river; this morning the distant mountains are green as ever.

The highest Dao is ultimate emptiness and stillness: it has no image, no form, no name, and no fixed substance. You cannot see it when you look, nor take hold of it when you reach—what matters is whether you can grasp it for yourself. When someone who understands gives a slight hint, meaning can dawn at once. Alas! Last night rain fell along the river; this morning the distant hills are green as ever.

The highest Dao is empty and still, without image, form, name, or substance. It cannot be seen, heard, or traced. It is vast enough to contain all things and subtle enough to enter everywhere; it nurtures Heaven and Earth and nourishes the ten thousand things, turning and changing without end, appearing and hiding beyond measure. It is not something you can understand by thinking alone, nor grasp by distinguishing and labeling.

The Supreme Old Lord (Laozi, revered as the ancestral teacher of the Dao in Daoist tradition) stated these truths plainly in the classics. Too many words lead only to an end; silence is better. That is the gist—there is no need to doubt further.

De (Virtue/Power): “De” too is only a name imposed for convenience. It cannot be pictured or seized. If you deliberately arrange practice and pile up merit and good deeds, that is not true De; yet if you cultivate nothing and do nothing, waiting like dead wood and cold ashes for De to arrive on its own, you will never have De in a lifetime. The more you chase and cling, the farther you drift from it.

The scripture says: “The highest De does not De; therefore it has De.” It also says: “The highest De acts through Wuwei (non-action) and has no ulterior purpose.” That is, the highest De does not claim to be De, and so it truly has De; it follows what is natural without aiming to get something from it. These two lines are already clear—they still require genuine insight. If you trust and understand them, you should set aside what you have learned before, including notions from śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha paths, and in daily conduct put into practice the word “sun” (reduce): keep stripping away attachment and artificial effort—reduce again and again until nothing more can be reduced, and the deep, hidden De shows itself; then you will believe that Wuwei truly brings benefit.

The scripture also says: “Teaching without words, the benefit of Wuwei—under Heaven, few things can match these.” And: “Mysterious De is deep; it is far.” This profound, subtle De is unfathomably distant. Do you see? Ah! It is right before you, always clear and still; the moment you seek it on purpose, you know it cannot be seen.

Countless wondrous qualities of De are already complete within the original heart-and-mind. Given that, why strain to accumulate them from outside? The more you seek outward, the deeper you sink; the more you cling, the more you lose. Release every fixation, and you can break through fixed views of all things.

Put yourself behind and others ahead; keep to the soft, humble way; hold fast to “one”—in Daoist terms, single-mindedness and guarding the true. When the heart-mind is pure and undivided, virtue can be genuine. Both ritual fasting and self-cultivation (zhai) and ordering the world grow from this; its subtle power cannot be measured. This is called Xuande—virtue so deep it cannot be fathomed.

The word “jing” (scripture) is only a name imposed for convenience. Sages established the teaching because people follow emotion and illusion, crave desires, and lose their true nature; karmic consciousness stirs the spirit, ignorance burns bright, and people lose their innate nature, meet early harm and shortened lives, and cannot restore their original Qi. So the sages used skillful means, opened a gate of urging goodness, and led the lost back to the right path. They set down the teaching and provisionally called it a “jing.” A jing is a path—the great road that everyone can walk.

Those who read it must not be trapped by letters and phrases, nor abandon this text to hunt for answers elsewhere. Turn inward and taste every one of its more than five thousand words, leaving nothing out. If you suddenly penetrate even a line or half a line, the whole jing lives in your heart. Then you will trust that the Dao is not confined to tongue and lip. At that point you can open your inner treasury and bring forth the “jing” you already have, using it freely. Then it is not only this one jing: the thirty-six exalted scriptures and the entire Daoist canon can be threaded through from beginning to end; a single shout, and all is clear. Do you really see the meaning? On level ground, a sudden storm; in a clear sky, a sudden thunderclap. Listen closely. Listen closely.

The verse says: This jing’s subtle power is hard to appraise; through countless kalpas it does not change—it has endured from ancient times. The whole Daoist canon, whether from the first word or the last, can be joined in one thread; one shout, and all is plain. Do you really see the meaning? On level ground, a sudden storm; in a clear sky, a sudden thunderclap. Listen closely. Listen closely.

The marvelous efficacy described in this chapter is hard to put into words; through countless kalpas it has not changed, and from antiquity it has never been altered. It can be applied everywhere and penetrates everywhere; before a word is spoken, the meaning is already clear.

Unless one is a person to whom I truly transmit the attainment of the Way, who would dare to enter and explore it?

“Dao ke dao, fei chang dao” (The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao): any principle that can be put into language is not the unchanging Dao. Once words leave the mouth, they easily skew the truth. “Ming ke ming, fei chang ming” (The name that can be named is not the eternal name): anything that can be fixed with a definite name is not the constant name. To call it a particular thing is already inappropriate.

“Wu ming” (the nameless) is the Dao, existing before heaven and earth and the myriad things; “you ming” (the named) is the name reluctantly attached to the Dao. The Dao gives birth to the myriad things and keeps them ceaselessly alive. Thus, “chang wu yu yi guan qi miao” (constantly without desire, one observes its subtlety) means that without a willful, grasping mind, one can discern the subtle working of the Dao; “chang you yu yi guan qi jiao” (constantly with desire, one observes its manifestations)—“jiao” is read as “jiao,” meaning margin or edge, that is, deliberately observing and grasping the signs by which the Dao appears.

“Ci liang zhe” (these two) refer to wu (non-being) and you (being). One must realize it when not fixated on seeing, and when seeing, not be bound by what appears before the eyes. “Tong chu er yi ming” (they issue from the same source but have different names) means that wu and you both arise from the Dao; only their functions and designations differ. “Tong wei zhi xuan” (both are called xuan) means that the substance and function of the Dao share one origin. “Xuan zhi you xuan” (mystery upon mystery) is the realm in which body and spirit both reach subtle refinement. “Zhong miao zhi men” (the gate of all marvels) means that the many hundreds of methods of cultivating the Dao all issue from here.

The previous chapter explained that the true Dao—empty and void, naturally spontaneous, eternal and unchanging—cannot be put into words in the first place; any “Dao” that can be spoken is not the eternal, unchanging true Dao. The Primordial Ancestral Qi (yuan shi zu qi) of the Origin gives rise to all heavens and responds to circumstances as they arise—this is the working of the Dao. The Dao has no name from the start; any “Dao” that can be named is not the eternal, unchanging name. Only the various marks that appear when heaven and earth turn, change, and nourish the ten thousand things are what can be named.

When the mind is empty and still and one accords with nature, one can grasp the subtlety (miao) of the nameless Dao; when one looks with a mind bent on deliberate doing, one can see the outer edge (jiao) of the named and formed. “Miao” means the wondrous inward depth; “jiao” means the visible traces at the surface. To know only the traces and not the wondrous inward is to lack depth; to know only the inward wondrous and not the traces is to lack breadth. Only when form and spirit, subtle inward and manifest traces, are both held together is it called “mysterious upon mysterious” (xuan zhi you xuan). The thirty-six divisions of revered scriptures all issue from this—it is the gate of all subtleties (zhong miao zhi men). That said—where did this scripture really come from? Tuo!

The verse says:

Above the peak of Mount Kunlun, within Yuanshi’s millet pearl;

One born from a parent’s mouth can never speak it through for you.

Everyone in the world knows what beauty is; once the idea of beauty is fixed, ugliness appears along with it. Everyone knows what goodness is; what is called not-good then shows itself. Beauty and ugliness, good and not-good, exist in relation to each other. Being and non-being generate each other; difficult and easy complete each other; long and short are measured against each other; high and low set each other off; sounds harmonize with each other; before and after follow each other.

Therefore the sage handles affairs through Wuwei (non-action)—acting in accord with nature, without arbitrary interference—and teaches without words, not relying on verbal instruction but showing the way through his own conduct. Things grow, and he neither refuses nor meddles; he nurtures the ten thousand things yet does not claim them as his own; when there is achievement, he does not boast of his ability; when the work is done, he does not take the credit. Precisely because he does not cling to merit or to everything he has done, his accomplishment does not vanish. The “forgetting” spoken of here means not clinging to beauty and ugliness, being and non-being, difficult and easy, outer things, bodily form, emotion, or self. When every fixation is released, the constant truth of the Dao endures and does not depart.

The first two chapters explain that beauty and ugliness, good and not-good, follow each other like shadow and body; being and non-being, difficult and easy, likewise depend on each other and turn into each other. Where there is beauty, ugliness can be compared; where there is good, not-good can be distinguished. Thus the sage does not fix on things, does not treat the ten thousand things as private property, does not rely on himself or hoard credit, and lets all such distinctions dissolve into forgetting—not holding fast to either being or non-being. In this way one can abide in the Dao and not disappear with the changes of things. This chapter clarifies the meaning of embodying the Dao stated in the opening chapter, so that those who cultivate the Way understand: though things differ in name, they alike arise from the Dao; to use the Dao without clinging to any single pole is not to become one-sided and stagnant.

In verse:

Each person fixes on beauty and ugliness—I do not split them apart;

I lift away every distinction, as countless bubbles merge back into water.

Before the eyes the thousandfold myriad appears;

In the Dao I embody, I do not even grasp at “one.”

“Pure sagehood” means keeping one’s original simplicity and not flaunting cleverness; “forgetting the self” means not clinging to ego, so people do not compete for dominance. “Not valuing hard-to-obtain goods” means not treating rare things as precious; “eliminating craftiness and discarding profit” means setting aside scheming and the chase for private gain. When people are not tempted by profit, they will not steal—this is called “forgetting things.” “Not displaying what excites desire” means not putting before people what would stir greed; “turning with things and responding to the moment” means adapting flexibly as circumstances change. Then the heart is not thrown into turmoil by desire—that is “forgetting feelings.”

Therefore the sage keeps the inner mind empty and still to preserve original nature; fills belly and body to preserve life; keeps will soft and humble to preserve spirit; keeps sinew and bone strong to preserve the form. “Constantly keep the people without knowledge and without desire” means not letting them be pulled by clever schemes and craving, so the heart does not fix on possession. “Make it so that those who think they know dare not act”—here “know” is read as “clever”; it refers to people who fancy themselves masters of stratagem and arts; when they have something to fear, they dare not act rashly. “Act through non-action (wuwei)” means remaining still and not imposing arbitrarily; then one can resonate with things, follow the trend, and the realm can be governed.

The “not exalting the worthy” of the three chapters above continues the earlier idea of “undertaking affairs through non-action”: not boasting of one’s worth, and the people stay simple; not prizing rare goods, and the people become secure in sufficiency; not showing what invites greedy pursuit, and hearts settle. For the sage to settle the realm, cultivating the self must be the root. “Empty their hearts, fill their bellies,” and the like are all essential methods of self-cultivation: only when the heart is empty and still does the will become soft; only when the will is soft is one not dragged by clever calculation.