《云山集》Vol. 2

Let it go.

The ills of the world have long been plain, its disorder tangled like a ball of thread. Illusions mislead those who walk the Way, clouding their eyes so they cannot see clearly. Cut through thoughts entangled like creeping vines, and leave in peace, returning to the old life accompanied by clear breezes and bright moonlight.

Praise and Blame

Carving the skin to grow feathers—deliberately contriving and pretending to be extraordinary—is only making trouble for oneself. Washing away dirt only to search for scars is a misplaced use of the mind. Once you see the master within—the original mind—you can rest the pursuit of praise and blame. Distant mountains and autumn waters have their own lofty stillness.

Knowing Delusion

The hidden gateway to the highest attainment—the crucial opening in the practice of the Way—is not easy to understand. Even the Seven Sages of Xiangcheng, who are said to have sought the Way from Master Guangcheng, were once confused. Why must one worship a young attendant as a teacher when practice advances day by day? After bowing in thanks and returning, who is that “I”?

Freedom in Oneself

Penetrate beyond the commonplace and enter the highest gateway of Xiyi, the realm of the Dao that cannot be seen or heard. From the spiritual ground that has existed since time immemorial, sit at ease in emptiness and stillness. In quiet leisure, find the true freedom of wandering; at every turn, the Heavenly Gate—the opening of the Dao of Heaven—lies unobstructed.

One Qi

Blend into One Qi, natural and as it should be. The myriad things need not depend on one another; together they merge in the great emptiness. Turn the hidden gateway and attain the true breath. All four kinds of birth—womb-born, egg-born, moisture-born, and transformation-born, meaning all living beings—can return together to the realm beyond remainder.

The Field of the Heart

Remove the thorns from the field of the heart and plant the fine qualities of orchids and fungi. Tend carefully the spiritual shoots whose roots have taken hold. When practice is complete, the white ox—often a symbol of one’s nature or the fruits of cultivation—lies at ease in the open field. The moon shines bright, the breeze stirs gently, and the master rests in ease.

The Flower of the Heart

The transforming power of the Great Dao cannot bind it. Blossoms cluster and open freely, as they will. A flower of the heart has been passed down from time immemorial to the present; its rich fragrance drifts throughout the nine heavens and in every direction.

The Talisman of the Heart

Sweep away demons and apparitions without leaving a trace; move freely in every direction and manifest great spiritual powers. With a simple gesture, point out the guiding principles at will, and the myriad sages and spirits of plants and trees all withdraw behind you.

The Moon of the Heart

Sweep away even the finest dust; all sounds fall silent. Clear, cool moonlight quietly illuminates the heart of Heaven. Raise your eyes and see that everywhere is home. Countless manifestations of emptiness—a phrase from Buddhist and Daoist contexts associated with the nature of emptiness—can be found at your fingertips.

The Fragrance of the Heart

Dunou and nitan, two fragrant woods, cannot compare. Living fire glows warmly and gently in the incense burner. A single stick of incense from before the cosmic tribulations is lit anew in a fresh burner. Why let the melon vine hang down and obstruct the path?

The Zither of the Heart

All sounds are silent, and the long night has not yet passed. Though played without strings, the zither still carries a clear and lingering melody.

When Ziqi could not understand the music played by the musician, he felt his way around a copper dish and took it for the sun. This draws on old stories about discerning music and a blind man feeling an elephant: relying on only a partial impression makes it difficult to grasp the whole.

The Sword of the Heart

The keen sword within the heart flashes with cold light, its force rising straight to the clouds. Once raised, it is unmatched and presses bravely forward.

Does its force merely strike awe and surge toward the stars of the Dipper? It can also cleave open the void and reveal the most authentic, primordial state.

The Mirror of the Heart

The rhombus-patterned mirror was put away so long ago that no one knows how many years have passed. Suddenly, it is as though a solitary moon has descended into the jade-colored heavens, clear and bright.

Hang this mirror in an empty, silent hall, and it is enough to startle spirits and gods. Pure and lucid, its light fills the entire vast cosmos.

The Pearl of the Heart

Hide away the wish-granting jewel, which holds within it treasures without end. Its night light shines upon the Palace of Five Luminosities, an immortal palace in Daoist imagery.

One day, when you meet someone who truly understands you, take it out with your own hands, and ten thousand rays of rosy light will shoot into the blue sky.

The Lamp of the Heart

A vast, profound realm of mystery and emptiness fills the entire vast cosmos.

The Pearl of the Heart

Hide away the wish-granting jewel, which holds within it treasures without end. Its night light shines upon the Palace of Five Luminosities, an immortal palace in Daoist imagery.

One day, when you meet someone who truly understands you, take it out with your own hands, and ten thousand rays of rosy light will shoot into the blue sky.

The Lamp of the Heart

With the vast, mysterious void as its lampstand, this small lamp needs neither oil nor torch, yet it can shine with light.

Nothing at all stands between heaven and earth, and mountain spirits and wicked beings alike dare not obstruct it.

Cherishing Silence

Everyone clings to the self, scrambling and striving. In the end, there is no absolute right or wrong.

So, among other people, remain silent often. Then, naturally, people can forget their calculating minds in one another’s company.

Fleeting Life

Life is like a sound made in the space of a finger snap; the tangled, sticky affairs of worldly life make it hard to find clarity.

Everyone is trapped by this foul, all-absorbing mass, leaving the protagonist—the authentic self within—to grieve in vain.

Regret

People strain to pursue fame and profit as tiny as a snail’s horn or a fly’s head. They mix with the crowd like someone who cannot play the yu flute joining an ensemble and pretending to perform.

Now, in old age, I finally know regret: all that I did in the past was, in the end, childish and ignorant.

Postscript to “Yuan Xian Rebukes Zicai”

Only when cultivation reaches the point of forgetting words does one truly draw near the Dao. This is contentment with poverty, not a condition brought on by illness; nor need poverty be regarded as hardship.

Auspicious signs truly lie in a heart that is empty, still, and pure. Would you be willing to tell me of the true spirit of the Dao?

Without Emotion

Being without emotion does not mean deliberately acting proud or treating people coldly. It means gathering in the spirit so that the heart-mind does not scatter outward.

Today, by letting the heart-mind open and following its natural course, one can truly apply oneself. The principles of this life are understood only in old age.

The Primordial Beginning

Before words have been spoken, one has already grasped their subtle meaning. This is the primordial beginning—the state in which the myriad things have not yet divided and remain at their source—and its mystery cannot be taught.

Then, from this source, observe the many transformations: downward, it can connect with the dark earth; upward, it can unite with Heaven.

Ease and Leisure

Say little amid disputes over right and wrong; do not run about in pursuit of fame and profit.

Human relationships and worldly affairs have nothing to do with me; the Origin

Before words appeared, one could already grasp that insight. It is a subtle truth within the Origin—the original state of mind—that is difficult to pass on.

From this vantage, one can follow the transformations of all things downward into the deep earth and upward into accord with Heaven.

Ease

Amid disputes over right and wrong, there is no need to say much. There is no need to enter places where people chase fame and profit.

Human relationships and worldly affairs have nothing to do with me. I pass through life in calm freedom.

Contentment

I do not envy delicacies spread across a table a full ten feet wide. Whether the food is fine or plain, once we are full, it is all the same.

Whatever changes in one’s circumstances, being content with one’s place brings ease to body and mind alike.

Equanimity

Disheveled clothes and tangled hair may astonish others; silk robes and a golden crown may bring no peace to the wearer.

Keep the heart at peace, make no distinctions among external things, and neither seek others’ esteem nor make a show of one’s virtue.

One’s proper place

Do not act recklessly or let the mind run wild. Keep the heart at peace, hold to one’s proper place, and seek stability in the Dao.

Beneath the vast sky, every household sees the same moon. There is no need to ask how high or low, deep or shallow, life’s fortunes may rise and fall.

Self-reflection

Through tribulations and cycles of rebirth, I once clouded my own mind. Now I gather it in and transform it into a state of joy.

Light shines from within and opens onto the boundless world. Cultivation does not mean looking outward for what one seeks; it means turning back to examine one’s own heart.

No-mind

A moment’s delight is not true happiness. When joy reaches its height and turns to sorrow, it is because the mind clings to something.

Better to become free of the mind, letting both sorrow and joy subside. That one light has remained unchanged from ancient times to the present.

Idleness

Idly seeking ease is not true leisure. Thoughts of past and future keep circling back and entangling one another.

Cut off every thought completely, and you can stand unmoving like Mount Tai.

Immortal and mortal

Gain and loss come round in cycles; there is no need to contend for them. Keep the heart at peace, remain content with one’s place, and walk in the Dao.

There is no need to distinguish or compare immortals and mortals. Remember what the Origin truly is.

The Daoist tradition

I have been within the Daoist tradition for forty years. Through cultivation, it has been like breaking through the world contained in porcelain and escaping its confines.

Free to move in every direction, with a heart so broad: fame and profit as small as a snail’s horn or a fly’s head are not worth esteeming.

The illusory nature of things

All things are like bubbles on water, floating and sinking without rest. The workings of creation never cease, so why hurry to pursue gain?

Dunhua (Transformative Escape)

If one grasps the secret of how boats in the mountains move silently, one will know that as long as the mind holds the intention, even heaven and earth can be evaded.

Among the crowd there is a place to hide oneself; follow the path by which one came and return, and there is no need for further doubt.

Mozhe (Tacit Accord)

When the myriad states of things cling to the heart, the mind gradually grows cold and ashen. Cold tears are too weary to wipe away, and the mouth is too tired to open.

Within this lies a principle that others cannot comprehend. It lies hidden in the dongfang (the quiet inner chamber of the cultivator's heart), as though sealed behind layers of white cloud.

Fuchen (The Whisk)

The most essential task in cultivation is to nourish the nature of the heart, sweep away the entanglements of the mundane world, and let scattered thoughts settle into stillness.

Then the spiritual nature of gengchu (the original state before all things differentiated) will reveal itself. There is no need to watch for it deliberately, and no need to search for it everywhere.

Kongxu (Emptiness)

Cultivation requires that the mind become clear, empty, and still, and that every worldly appearance be broken down one by one.

Only then does the original true face appear. It neither vanishes nor increases. Regarding this spiritual nature, one need not watch for it deliberately, nor seek it.

Kongxu (Emptiness)

Cultivation requires that the mind become clear, empty, and still, and that every worldly appearance be broken down one by one.

Only then does the original true face appear. It neither vanishes, nor increases, nor leaves any remainder.

Xingshu (Form and Number)

A human life is about a hundred years at most. A life of toil and turmoil, in the end, comes to nothing.

One should seek the true Dao at a higher level. The secret method of passing on the flame from one to the next can continue without end.

Fangxin (Letting the Heart Go)

The wandering heart commits itself to the mundane world, like someone sweeping fallen petals in front of a brushwood gate.

One cannot find a place to begin gathering them up, and the thoughts drift away with the wind and the water, never able to return to their origin.

Zhixin (Governing the Heart)

The myriad circumstances disturb the spirit, and layer upon layer of red dust cloaks the mirror of the heart.

Work at it like a master craftsman, polishing the mirror of the heart until it is clean, until its clear radiance shines through and illuminates everything with perfect distinctness.

Changsheng (Long Life)

What is called longevity: does it refer to this illusory form? When one's allotted span ends, the body must in the end return to dust.

Only the true nature of life itself can be truly understood. It neither departs nor arrives, from ancient times until now.

Shengmie (Birth and Extinction)

The cycle of birth and death has its root in the human heart. Thoughts change without pause, and this has been so from ancient times.

Even when ground down to ash, it does not vanish or stop moving. Suddenly it appears, like a solitary moon rising over a high peak of the immortal mountains.

Qiuji (Seeking Within the Self)

Everyone possesses a natural nature and need not seek outside. The illusory affairs of the mundane world are like clay and wooden idols, and all of them can be set down.

In my heart lies a pure, unhurried realm, clear and limpid, that even white jade and gold could not repay.

Leisure Dwelling

Living in an age of peace, I too become a person at peace. I have settled among the mountains and forests, asked the hills for counsel, and entrusted this body to this place.

Taking Up the Old

Fellow seekers meet beneath the glow of sunset and have nothing special to say. Hundreds of flowers bloom, birds sing, and everywhere the same spring air prevails.

The Dust-Realm

The right and wrong of the world surge like billowing white waves, and the marketplace of fame and profit rolls with dust. Yet people still struggle as the Man and Chu peoples did on the horns of a snail, not realizing that their circumstances, compared with Heaven and Earth, are utterly tiny and hard to make out.

Smallness of Form

The strife on the snail's horn has lasted a thousand years, while a human life, like a spark struck from stone, is brief, scarcely a hundred years. Who could have a vision as vast as a cartwheel, one that sees through the world tumbling endlessly through the sky?

Obstruction of Speech

To pluck branches and leaves and discuss them is, in the end, only to drift with the waves, and yet the vast source of spirit is not diminished by this. Keeping words on the lips and pressing questions without end is no match for simply sitting quietly. Everyone is like one who is drunk, sinking into a state of self-forgetfulness, as if they had arrived in Chang'an.

Breaking the Net

The worldly net has only just loosened when it is bound again by the net of laws. Examining and restraining oneself, one only binds oneself more tightly. Once the firm locks fall away, one takes up a staff, puts on sandals, and smiles and nods in the autumn wind.

Sitting Alone

Clouds cover the mountain ridges, and I walk with staff and sandals, at ease and unhurried. I rest for a while in the thatched hall, leaning on the stove-mountain and the sandalwood. When guests come to ask about the Dao, I give no answer but only smile and point toward the empty sky, asking them to look carefully.

Keeping to Foolishness

I do not imitate the foolish stillness of a cold cat crouching to wait for a mouse. The window is bright, the kang is warm, and I sit serenely wrapped in a thick robe. When guests come and sit facing me, I feel as though my soul has been deceived; when they ask me about worldly affairs, I always say I do not know.

Sitting Long

Clouds reflect the green mountains, fitting exactly the heart of a recluse; the grass spreads like a mat, and a coiled rock lies in the shade of an old pine. As I sit on and on, my mind enters wuheyou (the realm of "nothing-whatsoever," free from clinging and attachment), paying no heed as the sun slowly sinks in the lofty sky.

Guarding Clumsiness

The Thatched Hut

In the furnace of cultivation, I have forgotten to refine the lead and mercury (the symbolic terms of Daoist internal alchemy, or Neidan). Beyond the gate, the kudzu vines grow as they will, and I do not tend them.

I accomplish little in many matters and spend my days in idleness, content to let others laugh that I am good for nothing.

Startling the World

The hut is desolate. The three small paths that once led here are no longer traveled, and the windows creak faintly in the autumn wind, as cold and clear as the season itself.

Still, I can savor a genuine and lovable simplicity, and not a single worldly affair enters my mind.

Startling the World

Greedy, I plunge into the arena of fame and profit, sinking deeper with each step. My spirit is entangled and my vexations grow heavier.

I set down what I ought to value and chase after what I ought to despise, so my actions are inverted and confused. Where I should guard myself, I am precisely the one left unguarded.

Empty Life

Body and mind rush about without any freedom. A hundred years of human life is like wind passing over water, gone in an instant.

To live in vain and die in vain has no fixed deadline. If one can see through this and promptly return to the original mind, then one should stop the chase.

Peaceful Life

In the blink of an eye, I try to tell the new from the old. In the turning of a moment, how could I know that past and present have already been replaced?

I cannot make out what lies before me or what is to come. Whom could I ask to set my mind at ease?

Attachment to Things

Empty fame and fleeting profit, why do they cost people so much worry? Exhausting every scheme, one ends by wearing out one's heart and strength entirely.

Planning for one's descendants over a thousand years, one never considers that one's own bones will be buried in the earth.

Chasing the Realm

The dust of the world before my eyes swirls and churns like a yellow cloud, while the transformations of Heaven and Earth turn endlessly, changing at every moment.

Within the cycle of birth and death, people remain wholly unaware. They abandon the self and cling only to fame and profit.

Fame and Profit

Riding in carriages and boats, with servants and horses, people hurry about, braving hardship and danger, and all their bustle is nothing but reputation and gain.

Thinking it over carefully, one only wished to seek a measure of peace at the start. Yet the outcome is that body and mind are not granted a moment of rest.

A Guest Arrives

Hearing carriage horses and attendants knock at the brushwood gate, I hastily throw on my coarse cloth garment and go out reluctantly to greet them.

I think to myself that I have no money to buy village wine for my guest, so I can only bring out a cup of plain tea. Our friendship is as light as a spring snow.

Quiet Passing

The door of the quiet chamber is unlocked, yet no one has come to visit. The azure sky is lonely and still, and moonlight fills the courtyard.

The lute tunes and songs of a thousand years ago have long gone unanswered. On cold nights, only the flowing water makes its clear and chilling sound.

Shedding the Dust

To shed worldly dust is to shed the clinging to dharma-marks, and to shed all manner of attachments. This does not mean that once the elixir is refined, one ascends to the ninth heaven.

While false thoughts are not removed, the true cannot be established. Once one reaches this state, there is no further word that can reach the deeper mystery.

Dispersing the Dust

Myriad things differ endlessly and cannot be arranged into perfect uniformity; one must leap beyond every constraint.

Since ancient times, the harmony among the clouds has never sounded again; on a cold night, one hears only the clear, chilling sound of flowing water.

Shedding the Dust (Tuochen)

Cast off worldly dust and also let go of attachment to cultivation methods, no longer bound by any entanglement. This does not mean that one who has perfected the Golden Elixir (Jindan) ascends to the Nine Heavens.

With no deluded thoughts remaining, one need not deliberately establish a true mind either. When one reaches the profound depths, even words have no way to approach it.

Non-Knowing (Buzhi)

Myriad things differ endlessly and cannot be arranged into perfect uniformity; one must leap beyond constraints and illusions to reach the state of "non-knowing."

Yet within this state one must still discern the myriad transformations: mountains piled upon mountains, ten thousand phenomena springing up, all ultimately following their natural course without contrivance.

Secret Mechanisms (Jimi)

The customs of the mundane world bend like thatch grass before the wind, and if a person cannot rise above the essential principle, he will drift about in this way. Wu Xian (a shaman of legend) too would lose himself and exhaust his efforts in vain.

This Great Dao has endured since high antiquity, existing even before heaven and earth were formed; the mysterious wind circulates widely, and everywhere is interconnected.

Restoring Wholeness (Fuquan)

The flame of life is passed down from generation to generation, through countless years; over time, human true nature becomes stained by artificial contrivance.

When one strips away all attachments and forgets artificial doing, the natural and original authenticity that has existed since time immemorial remains intact.

Dwelling in the Mountains (Jushan)

I have long been bound by affinity to the clouds and mountains, claiming the mist and the colors of the hills alone, yet I do not regard them as capital for seeking profit.

I wander freely on the stones beside the stream, paying no mind to human affairs and making no deliberate pursuit of immortality.

Nanhua Nine Heavens

The natural harmony of heaven and earth has neither joy nor sorrow; the Stone Woman (an image that transcends conventional views of childbearing) understands this principle and nods with a smile.

She responds to the myriad directions in a state of intoxication and meets the everyday world in leisurely ease. Beyond one's original nature, what else could one seek?

The Second

The Heavenly Pipes (Tianlai), the sounds of nature, have form and voice yet cannot be imitated; grasses and trees grow, and the myriad things take shape each in its own natural way.

A single wind gathers all things and brings them into perfect, tranquil unity; self and other are both forgotten, and even "seeing" has no place.

The Third

The Heavenly Gate (Tianmen), the portal that symbolizes the operation of heaven and earth or a mysterious realm, opens and closes, and ordinary people cannot know when. Only when one sits upright with body still and the mind wholly free of a single thought might one come to realize it.

The myriad things and the mundane world manifest from this, and falling blossoms and drifting catkins are left to scatter as they will.

The Fourth

The light of heaven is broad and serene, its natural clarity bright and luminous; it pierces through floating illusions as if piercing an iron wall.

Between heaven and earth everything is connected without obstruction; mountains, rivers, and the great earth all lie open, level, and upright.

The Fifth

The subtle workings of the Dao of heaven cannot be pursued through the categories of being and non-being; it drives the operation of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, so that each finds its proper place.

Once the ancient knots and blockages are cleared away, in a moment the human world is filled with the warmth of spring.

The Sixth

The Dao moves freely in its own way, and no matter how intently one gazes, it cannot be glimpsed; it casts off old forms and turns toward new change, transforming at every moment.

The line before the sections, from the earlier part of the text, reads: Opening the fist from a clenched hand, all of it belongs to the past; the lively functioning before one's eyes all falls in the present moment.

No. 7

The Celestial Treasury (tianfu; natural treasure) seems empty, yet it contains everything. Even a single hair's breadth can encompass the entire Great Void (taixu; the boundless cosmos).

Break the seal and let you see for yourself. The scene is laughable; even the old Patriarch Yingmei, were he to visit, would laugh himself over.

No. 8

The Celestial Measure (tianni; natural order and boundaries) is originally endowed with spiritual power. All things are one body, yet each has its own greater or lesser function.

Try asking the Binding Wind (shufeng), and it stays silent. The willow branches have just turned green, and the little peach blossoms have already blushed red.

No. 9

Within the Celestial Balance (tianjun; the balanced operation of nature), there is no "self" and no "other." The myriad things rise and fall in turn, and the scene renews itself moment by moment.

The last of winter is ending, and the warm season has returned. Wild flowers and fragrant grasses grow alike in the spring.

End of Volume Three of the Collection from Yunshan

Note #1: The original text repeats a line here: "The myriad things float and sink, the scene renewed again and again. When the last month ends and the warming pitch returns, wild flowers and fragrant grasses are all one spring."

Collection from Yunshan, Volume Four: Seven-Character Quatrains

Composed by the Perfected Zhichang, Ji Zhizhen

Fishing for Emptiness

Reeds rustle as autumn comes and goes. What a pity: I am already old, and still have not returned to rest.

The small fish will not take bait made of clouds and mist. The hook hangs empty over the clear ripples, its shadow reflecting the moon.

True Joy

There is no deliberate pleasure and no clinging to perception, yet a lively functioning is present within. Even if mocked by others, there is no harm in appearing a little dull.

Who would know that one without joy and without knowing still has a faint idle sorrow appearing between the brows?

Friend Mountain

Walking out with a staff suits visiting a kindred friend. A thatched hut is best when a mountain that pleases the heart lies nearby.

A good friend and a good mountain face each other, and talking and laughing all day long is also carefree.

Nurturing Nature

To obtain the Mysterious Pearl (xuanzhu; a jewel symbolizing the profound Dao-nature), one relies on Wangxiang (the state of hazy formlessness). It is fitting that stillness and wisdom nourish each other.

As the years pass, it releases a great luminous brightness, illuminating the boundless treasures between heaven and earth.

Moonlit Night

A breeze passes the window, and the bright moon fills the heart. Body and mind are free, as if one had stepped off to ascend and arrived at Penglai (a legendary immortal mountain).

People cannot break out of the City of Sorrow, and they drag down even the scholar dwelling within the gourd (hu zhong; the immortal realm or inner state of the Daoist adept).

Unrestrained Surge

The momentum of the Celestial Measure (tianni) is unbound. It races across the four seas, coming and going at will.

In the time of Great Peace, there is no visible sign, and people seldom encounter it. In the Red Waters, Wangxiang sinks into emptiness and cannot find the pearl.

Jade Hairpin

Fudang

Foam in the color of red earth surges up, and the shifting skies of the heavens know no bounds. Galloping across the vast expanse of the world, it moves freely wherever it wishes.

A time of peace and quiet is rarely seen. In the Red Waters, the sprite Wangxiang (a spirit said to be able to find treasures) searches in vain and never recovers the precious pearl.

Jade Hairpin

In Langyuan (the immortal realm said to be home of the Queen Mother of the West), the immortal maiden Feiqiong dances amid the green mists. A jade hairpin falls to the ground and, to everyone's surprise, grows into a flower.

Its fragrance drifts on without end, carrying the blossoms' blue and white hues, and at last this hairpin-flower is entrusted to a Daoist household in the cloud mountains.

Poem

When the myriad dusty thoughts recede, the spirit settles. Quietly turning the mind, one feels as if a nimble eye hangs in the air, looking out in every direction.

Suddenly a poem stirs the heart. The road back to the auspicious five-colored clouds has nothing to do with the entanglements of the mundane world.

Four Songs on Panshan

Spring

Mountain colors rise in layers, revealing the truth of creation; the sound of flowing water tells of the causes and conditions of the Great Dao.

When the good conscience comes into play, everything accords with reason. Why indulge deluded desires before the butcher's block?

Summer

A breeze blows from beneath the pavilion, and a coolness passes through the sleeves; travelers before the mountain are drenched in sweat.

The realm of immortals and the mortal world seem as far apart as cloud and mud, yet they are not truly distant; fame and profit, however, press upon people and deny them any leisure.

Autumn

The summer heat recedes, and one is so deep in the mountains that one is hardly aware of it. Suddenly one notices the yellow chrysanthemums vying to bloom, their fragrance spreading.

One night of west wind seems to issue a stern decree, and red leaves flutter down in profusion, scattered across the sky.

Winter

After frost and snow have ravaged the land, the brocade-like scenery is gone; the colors of the surrounding mountains remain as they were in the past.

Late at night, one burns incense and sits in quiet meditation in a still chamber, hearing only the wind sweeping through the pines of ten thousand ravines, as though ten thousand pines were singing together.

Stagnant Sitting

Searching the verses for ever higher flashes of insight, one is like a child who has lost his way home, and the more one searches, the more one forgets the road back.

One does not realize that by piercing the window paper, the foolish fly can be let out to regain its freedom.

Nearby Body

A child of the sea plays in the water, and the gulls are the first to notice. The deluded man who sits with a fishing pole does not even heed the cicadas' song.

In the deep and subtle places, one hides the self without dwelling anywhere. When Jixian (a physiognomist of legend) sees this, he too meets a fool.

Movement and Stillness, Two Poems Presented to Xu Shaoming

First Poem

If one's movements always follow others and stillness appears dull and slow, then forgetting both movement and stillness is where the key to nimbleness lies.

Even one who cannot speak and has no words can still make his meaning understood. Only then does one believe that the words and names of the world truly differ in what is true and false, and in what is right and wrong.

Second Piece

Warfare sweeps the Central Plains, and fierce men like wolves and tigers greedily spy on the land. Fortunately, hidden grotto-heavens like the Peach Blossom Spring remain, where one may withdraw from the world and find refuge.

The flowing water is as it was, and the fallen blossoms are as they were. Come, board that boat whose prow has already been broken off.

Same as Above

The Immortals of the Palms gather on high and speak of FangHu, the mythical sea-mountain of the immortals. They smile, point toward Penglai, and say the sea is slowly drying up.

Do not sing the "White Stone Song" while feeding cattle, as Ning Qi did. It is better to seek Wangxiang, a spirit said to be able to find treasures, and to ask it for the Mysterious Pearl, which symbolizes the profound and subtle truth of the Dao (the Way).

Fishing Homeward

In waters that are withered and silent, there are no fish to catch. Even with a light bait and a thin bamboo rod, one who fishes all day only sits idle.

It is better to learn from Gentleman Ren of Kuaiji, who set out in a small boat on a moonlit night to explore and returned with a full load.

Same as Above

Like a wanderer who has long forgotten his homeland and no longer knows where his home lies, or like a herder who chases sheep down the wrong road and grows more lost with every step.

It is better to turn back early, gather the immortal's food of clouds and mist, and take up a single small boat, riding the clear breeze and bright moon as it sails across the stream.

Nature and Moon (Xingyue)

A vast spirit-wind sweeps freely, and not a single cloud remains in the celestial realm of nature (xingtian), the clarity that one's original nature manifests.

Between heaven and earth all is limpid, like a silver world. What sends forth the light is the radiance of one's nature, like a pearl that shines even without night.

Warning to the World

Time slips past in a flash, like a shuttle flung across the loom. In the blink of an eye, a person grows old and his temples turn white.

The hour of death is impossible to foresee. Once King Yama sends his messengers to summon you, with hands and feet in confusion, what can you possibly do?

Cares of the Mind

Exhausting one's mind to manage the household, by old age one's hair has grayed and one's eyes have dimmed.

In the end one still does not know where one will return, yet even at the last moment one gives instructions to one's children and grandchildren.

A Hundred Years

A hundred years vanish in the twinkling of an eye, yet people crave all day long and scheme everywhere.

Every needle and every blade of grass seems predestined, yet people still drive their bodies and minds without rest, not even for a moment.

King Yama

That King Yama is merciless, who does not know it? Faced with some glittering scene, people pursue only their greed and their pleasures.

Do not imagine that King Yama will never come to your door. When that day arrives, with nothing left to say, how could you bear it?

Every Needle and Blade Predestined

Every needle and every blade of grass seems predestined, yet people still drive their bodies and minds without rest, not even for a moment.

King Yama

That King Yama is merciless, who does not know it? Faced with some glittering scene, people pursue only their greed and their pleasures.

Forest Spring

Among the grasses and the dense woods, a mysterious charm lies hidden everywhere. Cool spring water flows past, chiming like jade stones striking one another.

Sitting still and forgetting the self, no longer clinging to outward scenes: who could understand such a state? Dew drops from the pine tips, and the moon is full.

The Leisurely Person (Xianren)

The wind stirs the forest, and moonlight falls on the mountain flowers. Here the fine stones and the stream seem to belong to a single whole.

Only one who is truly at leisure can be at ease as their own master. They hold no attachments and no private self, living freely in the company of clouds, mist, and rosy light.

Cultivating the Real (Xiuzhen)

Once one has cultivated to the root of authenticity, what else is there to cultivate? A single shout brings every worry and all the myriad affairs to rest.

Realizing the inherent merit and original nature, one travels with the bright moon and ascends Yingzhou (a legendary immortal mountain in the sea).

Immortals (Shenxian)

Immortals need not be sought outside oneself; they lie in the first, original thought of the heart.

If one can be carefree and unbound by the myriad entanglements of the dusty world, one's teaching will reach across the earth, as though the world were turned to gold.

Prolonging Life (Yannian)

Methods for extending life and attaining freedom from death have always existed. Why not devote your whole mind to asking the Physician King (one skilled at healing and saving beings)?

Cut away the mundane heart and take the marvelous medicine, and you will shed the suffering body as clearly as a cicada sheds its shell.

Reciting Scriptures (Songjing)

Weaving nets and laying snares only accumulates ever more sin. Then, in old age, one recites a few words of "Mahā" (a Buddhist term meaning "great").

If one clings to delusion, imagining that this will earn blessings in a future life, how would King Yama (the deity who presides over judgment in the netherworld) ever approve?

Dreaming of a Butterfly

Duke Zhou and the butterfly are two different forms, yet no one has seen who is truly dreaming.

If one grasps the message of the butterfly's serene self-delight, the vast sky and earth will all seem to belong to oneself.

Kui and the Mosquito

Once the natural, true nature is put to use, it penetrates the spirit and passes through both the formless and the formed.

This marvelous function operates everywhere. The moon is bright, the river is still, and the wine drinker has just awakened.

The Hao River Bridge

Viewed from its original state, there is neither joy nor perception. Once one knows joy, a second layer of distinction has already arisen.

Following things back to their roots and tracing the source of "knowing," one finally discovers that the swimming fish and I, the other and the self, can all return to a single unity.

Carving the Ox

The affairs of the world pile up in tangles, yet they pass through the space between the formless and the formed.

This marvelous function operates everywhere. The moon is bright, the river is still, and the wine drinker has just awakened.

The first line of the text traces the Dao (the Way) back to its source, and like fish in water, all differences finally return to one place.

Dissecting the Ox

Worldly affairs pile up like mountains. One who truly understands the art of dissecting an ox seems to exert no deliberate force, yet the blade moves through the gaps in the ox's body with room to spare.

When affairs are tangled and complicated, one does not hastily force a cut. One guards the edge of the blade carefully and does not wield it lightly.

Herding Horses

The wisdom of the sage appears playful, yet it can lead people out of confusion and back to the right path. A mountain child who happens to glimpse something seems to grasp the principle of accord with Heavenly Dao.

Even the faintest worldly thought can harm one's original nature. It should be removed so that the primal authenticity can appear. This subtle principle is difficult to transmit through words.

Raising Chickens

When one thoroughly comprehends the original Dao, one can set down deluded thoughts. When one acts with truly no mind, one's skill grows even deeper.

Sitting there, as steady as a carved wooden figure or a clay statue, what in the world could still disturb such a person?

Catching Cicadas

Though the old man was highly skilled, his mind had not fully forgotten cunning. He hid himself as thin as a cicada's wing, yet the cicada did not perceive him.

If one advances further, reaching a state that even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom, one can take things at will and respond with ease. What then is there left to doubt?

Playing with Gulls

One's own spiritual nature communicates with the spiritual nature of all things. If one harbors no scheming mind, all things will naturally be at peace.

When a single thread of connection between heaven and earth opens by chance, the gulls no longer dare to alight on the sandbar.

Feeding Tigers

The ferocity of the human heart surpasses that of a fierce tiger in the mountains. If joy and anger are allowed to erupt in a moment, one will harm others and oneself.

When the heart settles in its natural state of stillness and forgets the distinction between self and external things, one's mental state naturally becomes calm.

Taming Monkeys

People exhaust their minds seeking to attain "singleness," yet they fail to realize that all things were originally connected. Even those who have knowledge and awareness are bound by the regularity of creation and transformation.

Once one's fate is fixed, reversals and changes add or subtract nothing. If one vainly generates worry and joy, one becomes like the monkey-keeper of Song, who provoked the anger of the monkeys by changing the way he distributed acorns.

The Snail's Feuding Kingdoms

The profound and wondrous principle of the Dao is vast and boundless, yet the complete form of the great earth is as tiny as a snail.

The mortal world is even narrower than the feelers on a snail's head, and it is lamentable that people keep quarreling over the most minute distinctions.

Kinds of Wood

Trees in the mountains, because they are not fit for timber, preserve their authenticity. The crow, lacking any skill, loses its life for precisely that reason.

The functioning of the Dao renews itself daily and transforms without end. At times it withdraws, at times it draws near, and within this lies a profound principle of penetration.

Fishing for Whales

Finding true great vessels and rare talents is not easy. Someone raises a fishing rod by the shore of the vast sea, using an ox as bait.

Yet this old gentleman is not a recluse like Yan Ziling. He crouches there for three years and, in the end, catches no fish.

The Whisk

Shuttle Fan

A pennant fan that is easy to carry may be decorated with yak tails and may also serve as a whisk, a ritual implement like a horsetail duster. Rhinoceros horn is left undrawn on it, since that would look too coarse.

Self-Release

Worldly affairs are as many as clouds. A water gourd and a patched robe, the plain garments of monks and Daoists, are all one carries.

Whether walking or sitting still, one is unconstrained, freely wandering as a traveler across the four quarters.

Daoist Scriptures

Some say that Daoism has no scriptures, only the five-thousand-character Daodejing (Classic of the Dao and De).

So I composed a poem to refute this claim.

The host sits upright with hands clasped in silence, while the carriages and attendants on the stage clamor without end.

The voice of the Great Dao is subtle and hard to hear, and the form of ultimate principle leaves no trace to seek. Once one reaches the state beyond words, even if the sea were used as ink and the mountains as paper, the principle could not be fully written out.

Planting the Lotus

Clearing away the green moss, I plant a jade lotus. A single point of perfect, luminous light (inner clarity) shines straight up to the heavens.

Bending down to look, one seems to sit beyond the Miluo Heaven (the lofty celestial realm in Daoist cosmology), with sun, moon, and stars moving far below.

Three Suitabilities

Let the body and mind rest in tranquility, stillness, and emptiness. It is fitting to be simple and unadorned, fitting to be unskilled and plain, and most fitting to be poor.

To stay far from the dust of the world and remain at peace is the true message and realization, and it should not be casually shared with others.

Illusion and Transformation

In human eyes, all the affairs of the world are like a monkey's performance. The transformations of creation never cease, like the churning of buying and selling in a property market.

A foolish child, given some leisure, picks things up and plays with them. When the clay dogs and mud carts (children's toys) are broken, he simply smashes them.

The Mechanism of Transformation

The operation of creation moves among all things, cold and merciless, not allowing a moment's blink.

No sooner does the head rise than it has become the tail. In an instant, it can destroy and it can generate.

Clinging to Life

This skin-bag opens its mouth every day, demanding food, and this body is wrapped in clothing year after year.

For all the effort expended, what good does it do in the end? Eventually one is carried out to the wilderness and buried in the earth.

Floating Life

A human life is no more than a hundred years, and in the end one rushes about in busyness only to arrive at emptiness.

The Yunshan Ji says: "Unfortunately, this foul, stinking body of flesh instead troubles its original master, the human original mind and true nature."

Idle Body

Spiderwebs climb several walls and dust piles up. Having grown old, I still keep my habits of greed and laziness, and I do not mind living in poverty.

Yet such leisure is hard to come by. Only when the body dwells between water and clouds, in a secluded and quiet place, can one set down worldly affairs and settle the idle body.

Poetry Demon

When the urge to write poetry grips me, I lose interest in reading. I am clumsy and slow of speech, as though nothing I do matters to me, and I seem somewhat dull-witted.

For now I sit quietly in years of peace and ease, letting others call me a horse or call me an ox.

Same as Above

The poetry demon has now raised the white flag and surrendered, but I am again absorbed in old books such as the Nanhua Jing (another name for the Zhuangzi).

Once the seeds of confusion in the heart are broken, I can smile with delight in the depths of the white clouds, in a realm of quiet transcendence.

Bookworm

For forty years I have buried myself in books like a bookworm. Now I suddenly feel that, in old age, even my desires for gain and my idle inclinations have grown faint.

Who would have thought that this small measure of leisure would be so hard to attain? It is truly vexing, and it also unsettles the stern master of former days, the original mind.

Frequent Illness

I am often ill, and I suffer because I favor stillness. Though I love good books, I am still enthralled by the learning of the sages and worthies.

In daily life I always keep certain principles hidden in my heart, waiting to put them into practice. But what of this body, sick to the bone and beset from above and below?

Contrivance

These thoughts and arrangements are truly not worth much effort. Walking slowly does not mean falling behind, and walking quickly does not mean getting ahead.

From now on I will set these matters aside, stop asking questions, and sing a song of peace and contentment.

Illusory Form

If one takes this illusory form to be real, one is bound by it and one's vision grows narrow. Only by breaking out of the cage can one walk the level and open road.

If the Creative Transformation could let a person see through this a step ahead, that would be better than still clinging to the pine tree conjured by illusion and taking the phantom for a real thing.

Time to Rest

In the years when the hair has turned white, one should hasten to cultivate the Dao. When the means for nourishing life are roughly sufficient, one should be content and stop.

Keep the heart pure and tranquil, and only then can one remain steady at all times. Still, one must guard against King Yama (the lord of the underworld who governs life and death) coming to hook away one's life.

Yellow Registers

At the sacrifices, several rows of yellow registers (huanglu, talismanic registers used in Daoist rites of salvation) are set out, and a ritual of deliverance is performed for lonely spirits. Though the lonely spirits receive deliverance, the people who make the offerings still remain in the human world.

The ancestors have their own place to return to and cannot be kept by their descendants. Across a thousand generations, people have bustled about in toil, and in the end most of it has been done for their children and grandchildren.

Correct Eye

Deliberately setting down the brush, the dust of worldly thoughts is still there. Resolving to forget words, the meaning in the heart has still not been forgotten.

Still Hall

Sitting alone in an empty, quiet hall, I am visited by no one. The subtle workings and transformations within are known only to oneself.

Friendships formed through power grow as thin as water. Only in old age does one realize that this is, in fact, a comfort.

Peaceful Dwelling

Life is just enough to sustain, and one can dwell in quiet security. Free of troubles, one walks at ease along the level road.

Immortals and mortals who dwell in remote border lands need not draw deliberate distinctions. Each simply follows the pattern, and that is enough.

Heavenly Equilibrium

The morning fungus that lives and dies within a single day, the Mingling tree that lives long, and the Great Chun tree that lives longer still: the lengths of their lives are, in the end, all arranged by nature's balance.

I am now seventy years old, yet others say I am still young. What does it matter how my future unfolds, or how many more springs and autumns I must yet pass through?

Divine Steed

Calmly mounted on the divine steed (symbolizing the mysterious power of transformation) and driving the corpse-wheel (here referring to the wheel that carries the body onward), one moves forward each day, whether north, south, east, or west.

Let it drag, pull, and carry me wherever it will. The master remains unmoved, and still makes no distinction between near and far.

Nature-Pearl

The perfect and luminous self-nature pearl (the innately pure original nature) is, from the beginning, neither lacking nor superfluous.

Treasure this jewel kept within the home, and do not let dust cloud it. Let it shed its spirit light (Shen) and illuminate the vast void.

Presented to the Head of the Zhenwei Association

Using swift and keen insight, and having opened the passes so that they are thoroughly unobstructed and harmoniously joined, one is like a practitioner whose cultivation has been accomplished. Yet such a state has never been able to be kept constant, from ancient times to the present.

Same as Above

Having thoroughly penetrated the key to upward ascent, one refines a true and perfectly unified substance. Its marvelous functioning runs through inside and outside alike; its edges meet, and it pierces the void.

Expressing My Feelings

The wind is clear and the clouds are light, their shadows drifting. The earth is vast, and heaven and earth are quiet and unhurried. A few lines of characters fly off like a flock of crows. Still, there is no harm in writing them down, and in trying to reveal the profound principle of the Dao (the Way).

Lone Moon

Long winds howl past, and all around is still and at peace. The vast sky stretches on without limit, and a single moon shines bright and full.

Dream Illusion

Black hair and rosy cheeks age all too easily. The crowing of the yellow rooster and the passing of the white day keep urging people onward. If one can see through the dreamlike mundane world, one should return from the hermit's homeland, a place like flowing water and drifting clouds.

Peace of Mind

Mountains stand tall and firm, unmoving. Rivers surge onward, flowing at ease. If the mind can settle into stillness like this, why seek elsewhere for the mysterious gateways of cultivation?

Chongxuan (Profound Mystery)

The gate of chongxuan (the profound and mysterious principle) stands open at all times, yet deluded people still ask about the difference between clouds and mud. With a film clouding their eyes, they search for the mani (a wish-fulfilling jewel, often used as a metaphor for precious wisdom or true nature) beyond the crown of their heads.

Time

Stretch out an arm, and time has already passed. Turn an eye, and all the affairs of the world have become empty. Worldly things and illusory forms all come to an end, yet the lost ferry crossings and the bitter sea seem to have no end at all.

Red Dust

Red dust churns at one's feet, and waves surge in the mind's fields. Sunk within this torrent, how could one roam freely in the Zifu (purple mansion, the immortal realm in Daoist belief)?

White Tiger

The Baihu (White Tiger) and Qingjiao (Azure Dragon), symbolic terms commonly used in Neidan (internal alchemy), need not be discussed at length. The danlu (alchemical furnace) and qianding (lead cauldron), technical terms of alchemy, need not be explained in detail. The Jiangque Qionglin (crimson palaces and jade groves of the immortal realm) qi xing (meaning unclear in the original), and green wine in golden flasks gives off its fragrance.

Sun and Moon

The sun and moon rise and set in east and west, and between heaven and earth Yin-Yang rises and falls in a seamless flow. The power that governs all things quietly maintains their thickness and waning, yet mortals drifting through life are all the more greedy and quick to anger.

Form and Number

Do not seek too much, do not cling, do not grasp in love. Without emotional entanglement, there is neither joy nor worry. This life, this body, this allotted fate should have less cleverness, rest content in simplicity, and take rest in time.

Moon Wheel

The moon hangs high, slowly turning like a wheel of ice. All creatures fall silent, and no sound can be heard. The shadows of people need not wander in confusion, for in the distant depths there is a path leading to the boundless realm.

Cycles of Rebirth

Having passed through many generations and kalpas, one still schemes to seek and crave. The bashi (eight consciousnesses, a Buddhist concept) and qiqing (seven emotions) toy with people and make them bear the karmic consequences of the sisheng liudao (the four births and six paths, the various categories and destinies of sentient beings in cycles of rebirth).

Sitting Long

Moonlight passes through the curtains and casts a clear brightness. Wind blows in, and a faint chill rises from the table. After long sitting in stillness, the spirit settles, seeming to have no boundary, and one no longer knows where one's body is.

True and False

Color mixes with blue glue, yet the water has a salty taste. yan xu (meaning unclear in the original). If one wishes to distinguish the true from the false, looking up, one cannot even see Chang'an.

Numinous Clarity (Lingming)

Stillness exhausts every fine speck of dust, and none remains standing; the dim and obscure expanse spreads through the three realms (sanjie). Self and things are no longer known as separate. Sitting for a long time, one becomes fixed and still, without boundary, and no longer knows what land one's body and life belong to.

When the mind reaches the utmost of stillness, not a single dust-like thought remains. It seems to be deep, distant, and vast, pervading the three realms. At this point one can no longer tell where external things end and the self begins. After long sitting, body and mind grow settled and fixed, as if without limit, and one no longer knows where one is.

Truth and Falsity

The blue of the color is mixed in with every hue; the salt of the water dissolves into its taste, and the two cannot be told apart. If one insists on distinguishing truth from falsity, one will not even see Chang'an when one raises one's head.

Blue mixed among other colors, and salt dissolved in water, are hard to tell apart. If one insists on drawing a line between the true and the false, one will lose sight even of Chang'an, the capital, when one looks up. The verse uses colors and flavors that are difficult to distinguish to show that clinging to the separation of true and false leads one to lose one's bearings.

Numinous Awareness

Stillness exhausts the fine dust, and nothing stands; the dim expanse fills the three realms. Self and things are no longer located, while numinous awareness penetrates into wuhe (the realm of nothing-whence, a boundless state beyond any locus).

When the mind is still to the utmost, no dust of thought remains. It is deep, obscure, and vast, as though filling the three realms. Neither self nor things can be located, and the numinous awareness passes through into wuhe, the boundless state where there is no place or limit.

Movement and Stillness

Stopping and moving in their proper time, one does not oppose the flow; in ravines and valleys full on every side, one shares the dust of the world. Neither a thing, nor ordinary, nor sage, one can be spirit, can be ghost, and can be human.

One stops when it is time to stop and moves when it is time to move, accords with each circumstance, and never opposes it. Whether in deep ravines or crowded valleys, one can dwell among ordinary people. One is not defined as a mere object, nor only as an ordinary person or a sage, yet one can manifest as spirit, as ghost, or as human, according to what is needed.

The Present Moment

What can one bear to dwell upon in the present? The future cannot be imagined. Examining oneself in the immediate moment, once a thought of discrimination arises, one has already fallen into the difference between cloud and mud.

Even this very moment should not be clung to, and the future cannot be anticipated. When one looks back and examines oneself in the present, the instant a discriminating thought arises, one has already fallen into the vast gap between high and low.

Family Style

Pines and chrysanthemums faintly line the three paths; the windows are bright and clear, open to the Six Similes (liuru, the six Buddhist metaphors often used to show that all phenomena are illusory and impermanent). The affairs of a peaceful age have no fixed form, while the pure and upright family style has abundance to spare.

Pines and chrysanthemums faintly border the garden paths leading to the dwelling, and the windows are clear and transparent, open to the Six Similes. The work of a peaceful age has no fixed form, but a sincere and upright family style remains full and abundant.

Original Nature

Stepping back from the arena of fame and profit, one's idle body rests among water and clouds. Following fate without indulging in artifice, and understanding the principle of life, one takes joy in one's natural state and keeps one's tianzhen (original, unadorned nature).

One withdraws from the arena of fame and gain and settles idly among mountains, waters, and clouds. By accepting fate without indulging in human contrivance, and by understanding the principles of life, one finds joy in one's own nature and preserves one's original, unadorned nature.

Karmic Consciousness

Pure stillness is one's natural state, yet unawakened, one is busy and rushing, and the karmic consciousness (yeshi, the mental activity accumulated from past deeds and discriminating thoughts) knows no bounds. When chasing external objects the mind grows stubborn as iron; when following the current the nature becomes tangled as hemp.

Pure stillness is the natural condition of human beings, but because one has not yet awakened, one is drawn along by the boundless karmic consciousness, formed from past actions and discriminating thoughts. When chasing external objects, the mind becomes as obstinate as iron, and when drifting with the current, one's nature becomes as tangled as hemp.

Embracing the New

The night ravine carries the boat away, so one abandons the old; the wheel of the sun turns on, so one hurries toward the new. Seeking fish in a tree and acting recklessly, or carving a mark on a boat to find a lost sword, both exhaust the spirit.

In the night, a boat drifts away silently in the ravine, and the sun's chariot keeps turning, so all things discard the old and move toward the new. Climbing a tree to seek fish is futile and reckless, and carving a mark on a boat to recover a sword is wasted effort. Since the world has already changed, one should not cling to old traces.

Perception and Awareness

Hearing, seeing, sensing, and knowing are four ailments when held as real; the dim obscurity of the void breeds much ignorance. Seeking it is like beating drums to chase a fugitive who has already fled; clinging to it is like waiting by a stump for a rabbit to run into it.

To hold hearing, seeing, feeling, and knowing as substantially real is an affliction on the path of cultivation, and to pursue a dim, obscure stillness easily sinks into ignorance. Seeking the Dao this way is like beating drums to chase a runaway, or guarding a tree stump in hope of catching a rabbit. The method is wrong, and the effort is ultimately in vain.

The Three Teachings

Dao, Confucianism, and Buddhism are like the three shadows of the moon in water and in a mirror; all flow from this same source. Why bother to distinguish between Daoists in yellow caps and monks with shaven, rounded heads?

Dao, Confucianism, and Buddhism are like the moon's reflection in water and in a mirror, appearing as three images. All of them flow from the same source, so why cling to the outward differences, such as the yellow headwear of Daoist priests or the shaven crowns of Buddhist monks?

Thorns

Thorns are hard to clear away completely, and the orchid and magnolia cannot easily flourish. In the old garden the buds have gathered and are about to open; only the pine and the chrysanthemum still grow, pitifully.

Thorns are very difficult to clear away completely, and fragrant plants such as orchids find it hard to flourish. In the old garden the flower buds have gathered, ready to open, and only the pine and the chrysanthemum still grow, pitifully hanging on.

Appreciating the Sound

The incense by the stove is still burning, and the blue lamp flame has grown faint. The broken strings have been rejoined, yet those who truly know how to appreciate them have been rare from ancient times to the present.

Brambles

Brambles are hard to clear away completely, and fragrant plants such as the orchid (a metaphor for fine people or things) struggle to flourish. In the old garden the flower buds are about to open, yet the pines and chrysanthemums are already growing on, in a pitiful way.

Appreciating the Sound

The incense by the stove is still burning, and the blue lamp flame has grown faint. The broken strings have been rejoined, yet those who truly know how to appreciate them have been rare from ancient times to the present.

True and False

Once deluded thoughts are extinguished, one must go further and dispel attachment even to "the true." When the mind is empty, the original nature becomes naturally complete. A hundred rivers all eventually flow into the sea, and the stars of the myriad things never leave the sky.

Wisdom and Cleverness

Those who appear clever and skillful often seem thoroughly like the clumsy, while those who are truly wise seem like simple fools who know nothing of worldly ways. What is lamentable is that the profound meaning handed down through the ages cannot be grasped just like that.

Sick Eyes

When the eyes are diseased, they can see only what lies before them. When the mind is stained with dust-thoughts, it clings only to the external conditions it craves. Just as one who carves a seal too early has his gaze entangled by it afterward, so that it comes and goes and can never leave.

Clinging to Form

To cling to external appearances is ultimately unable to reach the realm, and to keep pressing for words alone may not bring understanding either. Wanting to point it out to others, one cannot point it out; face to face, one can only raise an eyebrow as a signal.

Candle Flame

The candle flame sways in the wind, and when the cabinet is disturbed, ripples stir on the water's surface. If one cannot find a place of stillness, how is one to settle the arising and ceasing of change?

Obscured Mind

Do not seek within the scriptures, nor labor to search among forms. Even if one is learned in the affairs of past and present, one may instead lose the original mind.

Turning Back

Do not search for the moon at the bottom of the water, nor take the flower shadows in the air as real. Have the feet ever actually moved? Turn back and look: home is right here.

Past and Present

Passing one another shoulder to shoulder, things in an instant become the past. Look up and old affairs have changed while new ones arise. The myriad matters of the world are but a mass of empty illusion, yet they are enough to bind people to fame and profit.

Dust and Clutter

Why record every bit of worldly bustle one by one, and why should the floating life be worth boasting of? Plant well a tree without a shadow, and keep distant from the willow branches that tie up the emotions.

Arising and Ceasing

Drifting willow catkins rise with the wind, and falling blossoms drift along with the water. From ancient times to now there has been no fixed boundary, and the changes of arising and ceasing will in the end come to rest.

Worldly Mind

The worldly mind is busy as fire, and the affairs of the world are tangled as hemp. Yet people do not perceive how brief the light of time is, and they chase the falling flowers in a whirl of confusion.

Inexhaustible Treasury

Wuqin Zang... no, the title is simply the text itself. Here is the translation.

The strife of right and wrong is like a great sea, and it must be calmed. The reckonings between people are like high mountains, and they must be leveled and brought into order. Open up the boundless treasury, and pass through the gate where passion and desire hold one in their grip.

Desire

Floating clouds veil the bright sun, and cold winds batter the orchids of autumn. Matters of love are tangled and confused, like a snarl of hemp. Yet people do not notice how brief their time is, and still they chase after the falling blossoms.

Inexhaustible Treasury

The strife of right and wrong is like a great sea, and it must be calmed. The reckonings between people are like high mountains, and they must be leveled and brought into order. Open up the boundless treasury, and pass through the gate where passion and desire hold one in their grip.

Desire

Floating clouds veil the bright sun, and cold winds batter the orchids of autumn. If desire cannot be dispelled, how can the heart ever be settled?

Snares

A snare (a device for trapping birds) may be used to hunt pheasants, and profit and craving can likewise assail the human heart. Within the Dantian (dāntián, the place inside the body where Daoist cultivation is practiced) there is a spiritual essence, but if the thorns in the heart are not removed, it will be hard for it to appear.

Worldly Affairs

The affairs of the world have no end, and family enterprises and worries are endless. If you do not seek a place to rest, when will your toil ever stop?

Stillness

Stillness and quiet are the original, true nature. When one accords with the proper timing, one can reach the subtle and wondrous everywhere. There is no need to deliberately play warm melodies, for the cold valley will return to spring on its own.

Graying Temples

The temples have already turned white, and the rosy complexion is gradually withering. If you do not wait until others remind you that you have grown old, then what will you use to meet that time?

Birth and Death

One stands within the gate of birth and death and walks the road of transmigration. The heart has long grown accustomed to coming and going, so why would it ever be willing to ask about the road ahead?

Accumulated Dust

Accumulated grime is dim and heavy, and the long night stretches out without boundary. If one cannot penetrate the Three Essentials (three key principles of cultivation), how can one rectify the Five Sense Organs (the five faculties of the human body)?

Yin and Yang

Yin and Yang are the great craftsmen of heaven and earth, and heaven and earth are like the potter's wheel (the rotating disk used in shaping clay), molding all things. All things change as transformation moves them, grow in accordance with the seasons, and are renewed with fresh vitality each day.

The Great Dao

The principle of the Great Dao is deep and hard to fathom, yet people in confusion seek it upside down. It is not far from oneself; it lies only in the original heart.

Colophon to Volume Four of the Yunshan Ji

Composed by Ji Zhenzhen, the Perfected Zhichang (Zhichang Zhenren). The colophon is titled "Images of the Seven Perfected" (portraits of seven Perfected Immortals).

The likeness in the portrait is worthy of reverence and admiration. But if one only imitates that outward appearance, whom is one imitating? The patriarchs of the Dao lineage never had forms that differed from one another. Moonlight reflected on a thousand rivers shines full and bright everywhere, and it is the same moon in each. The Former Heaven Dao (xiantian zhi Dao) is imperishable, and its true countenance is as it has always been. Who obtained it, and who transmitted it? Everyone has the vast sky above their head, yet no one can measure how high it is; everyone treads the earth below, yet no one can exhaust how deep it runs. It belongs neither to antiquity nor to the present, and it is neither brief nor lasting.

People seek its source, walking step by step from what is near, yet they never stop; it, however, rushes ahead, leaving the dust far behind, so that people can only stand gaping and fall behind. Kuang Qu wished to speak but forgot what he meant to say. Ji Xian (a diviner skilled in physiognomy) was thrown into panic and turned to flee. Li Zhu (a legendary man of extraordinary eyesight) strained his sight yet could not glimpse its outline, and the Yellow Emperor, having heard Ying's account, could not judge what was right and what was wrong. Wang Xiang searched for it in emptiness, while Shu and Hu tried to bore it out of solid existence. Those who appraise it exhaust their thoughts, and those who praise or censure it fall silent. When the Sea God Ruo sighed at his own smallness, how could one let it be quietly rendered by a painter's brush?

The end of Volume Four of the Yunshan Collection.

Yunshan Collection, Volume Five: Lyrics

Composed by Zhikang Zhenren, Ji Zhizhen

Yaotai, First Tier

A single point of primordial true nature (benchu de zhenxing, the original authentic nature) is obscured by delusive thoughts, and so it summons a body and mind of illusory transformation. Mayflies and fungi that live and die within a day have fleeting lives, and emotional cognition (qingshi, emotions and consciousness) knots together with habitual tendencies (xiqi) into clouds of confusion. People fall into a fire pit a thousand fathoms deep, full of calculating scheming and countless deceptions. They are like those caught among white waves and yellow dust, struck by filth, sunk in a sea of suffering, and drowning within it.

Life and death, gain and loss, right and wrong, glory and disgrace: afflictions follow one upon another without end. At times one suddenly awakens, the lumps of infatuation shatter at once, and the field of vision opens wide. The nature-pearl (xingzhu, the nature likened to a pearl) pierces through and grows clear, and only then does one believe that Baoguang (preserving and nurturing the inner light) can embrace heaven and earth. The mind-spirit flows naturally and freely, and there is a single hutian (the vessel-heaven, an immortal realm forming its own world within a vessel) that never falls into night, and a grotto abode that stays in spring through all four seasons.

The sun and moon race along like a flying bird and a jade hare, day and night alternating, coming and going in a hurry, as fast as a weaver's shuttle. Fleeting life (a brief existence as insubstantial as a dream) is also like a shadow play, as though pulled by strings, tossed about at the mercy of constant transformation. Worldly affairs come and go, changing and tangled without rest; even level ground can stir up waves. In the end, they amount to nothing more than the trifling gains of a fly's head and the squabbles of a snail's horn, yet from antiquity to the present they have bewildered people's hearts.

Time slips away. Once one sees through all this, one wakes from the startled dream and comes back to oneself. The dream of the dusty world gradually dissolves, and one cannot help but smile. One comprehends the primordial origin (the fundamental state inherent in life) and realizes that numinous awareness (the innate clarity of consciousness) remains, neither increased nor diminished. One gathers the mind and settles it, no longer letting external things stain or defile it. Facing the wild clouds and the stream, one sings a mountain song. When the moon is up and no one is around, one strolls alone, leaning on a staff, carrying a rain hat and wearing a straw cape (a bamboo hat and straw raincoat for shelter from the rain).

Part Two

Smiling, one looks upon all the confusions of a lifetime. When hardship strikes, it is like autumn, when all things wither. Facing a winding, difficult road, the human mind is at times as pungent as ginger and at times as yielding as the tail-grass, and even stubborn strength turns into gentleness. The restless crowd struggles like white ants, chasing after titles and high rank in the shade of the locust tree. This is like the yellow millet dream (the millet not yet cooked): one wakes, and a hundred years have already passed.

Ask closely of past and present: what was truly achieved, and what was left behind? Wealth is like a floating cloud, fame like a painted cake, and one's own life no more than an illusory bubble. Once one clearly sees that all of these are appearances, one resolutely cuts off the entanglements and no longer runs after worldly pursuits. Leap out of the ferry of delusion (the crossing that makes one lose one's way) and the waves of desire, and, while the moon is bright, take a boat back toward the vast sea.

Choosing a place where the peaks are beautiful, I build a thatched hut and keep company with the green pines. There are herb gardens and fields of lingzhi fungus, where I can plough the clouds and fish for the moon. Fragrance drifts in the air, and numinous winds blow gently. Leaning on the railing and looking down on the human sea, I see great waves surging and rushing a thousand fathoms into the sky. Penglai (the legendary isle of the immortals) has turned into shallow sea several times, so its depths are hard to fathom, and fish and dragons mingle there. The immortal seeds of the three holy mountains still exist, but the deaf and the blind cannot find their traces.

I laugh at the peaches of Xiwangmu (the Queen Mother of the West) and the dates left behind by Anqisheng (a legendary immortal), which are nothing more than treats to lure children. The great fishhook of Ren Gongzi (a fisherman in an ancient allegory) is worth something, though. He hung up the giant hook, let out a line fifty zhang long, and crouched there for three years without a catch, not knowing when he would finally land a great fish.

The worldly entanglements of dust are many and heavy. Once I shed them, I feel as light as having a bond untied. Wearing straw sandals, leaning on a staff, and clad in a coarse patched robe, I feel carefree and light in body. Whether east, west, north, or south, I drift like duckweed on the water or like a dry branch in the wind, with nothing to hold me in going or staying. I wear my hairpin high and walk on, laughing and disdainful, singing and dancing along the way, with not a trace of worry in my heart.

There is no need to ask about the realm of the Hutian (the heaven-within-a-gourd, a paradise of the immortals), nor to distinguish the mundane world from the realm beyond. Like a cloud, like water, I wander at ease and go wherever my feeling takes me. Looking back, the aspirations and hopes in my breast, along with my earthly ties, are all illusory, and in the end they will all dissipate. When my enthusiasm is spent, I will form a gathering of Wuwei (non-action) amid the encircling clouds and mist.

II

Since I have been fortunate enough to free myself from the entanglements of the world, I should choose yet another quiet place. The mountain spirits seem to be calling me. Its peaks rise like a screen and its ridges hang like a curtain, layer upon layer, gathering their green hue. Here there are white stones and clear springs, bamboo pavilions and pine paths, and a thatched hall built at the edge of the woods. Choosing a high and secure spot, I store up the breeze and nourish the moonlight. Why should I concern myself any further with human affairs?

The scenery here surpasses the immortal realm of the Hutian and even the Peach Blossom Spring (Taoyuan), with its drifting petals and flowing water. Immortals often gather here, their colored clouds swaying. We laugh together as we watch the vast sea turn into mulberry fields, and as the mortal world changes many times over, it passes as briefly as a snap of the fingers. Raising a golden flagon filled with jade-green wine, I drink it down like a whale swallowing a great wave, savoring it to the full.

Since the dawn of time, rise and fall, life and death, have been like fallen blossoms strewn across the ground, swept about by fragrant winds. Human life seems to lie adrift in a boundless sea of suffering, with waves a thousand feet high and confusion without end. Everyone is originally endowed with a pure and natural nature, yet they wander and drift through the dust of the mortal world, deluded and inverted. Since leaving Xuandu (the immortal realm in Daoist belief), they have drifted from place to place, and who would still ask about the road to Chang'an? Only because the mind's desire for fame and rank has not been resolved do the brows stay knitted and sorrow coil about the heart. When will one encounter the numinous qi of the Three Fields (Santian, the upper, middle, and lower Dantian, the regions of internal cultivation in Daoist practice) and obtain the lingzhi fungus that restores vitality? Rays of light, clouds, the breeze through the bamboo, and the moon beneath the pines all accompany the medicine furnace as one refines the elixir. Once one's foundation is deep and one's roots are firm, one can attain long life and lasting vision, and never grow old.

Lei Jiang Yue (To the Tune "Pouring Wine to the River Moon")

Those who first begin to study the Dao: the Dao has no form or appearance, so where can one find its traces? It lies within the spiritual source of the inch-square heart-mind, that is, in the depths of the heart, the original and pure root of being. One must sweep away turbidity and bring forth clarity, distinguish the real from the false, strip away illusion, and clear out every crooked and deviant thing. Once the fog dissipates, one can penetrate and personally realize the reality and unreality of the empty realm beyond the world. The inner master dwells at ease in the main hall, follows the turning of the pivot and acts through wuwei (non-action), allowing not a single stray thought to disturb him. From here one proceeds straight into the true realm of Wuhe (the state of having no attachments and acting without deliberate effort), where the peaks rise pure and upright like jade. Auspicious qi gathers in harmony and fullness, shining with brilliant light, and the bonds of the mundane world and the body can all be forgotten. One roams freely, feasting and delighting, with a lifespan as long and boundless as Heaven and Earth.

Second Poem

The deer startled in a dream is just like people chasing after one another in this floating life, rejoicing and grieving over gain and loss, sorrow and union. Even when one believes one has seen through things, one remains within the dream, sinking ever deeper and finding it hard to awaken. Worldly human relations are like chickens squabbling over food, and the paths of the world wind like sheep's intestines. People each strive to outdo the others, whipping their horses and rowing their boats, rushing along the same toilsome road. Yet one day they will suddenly awaken, their hearts grown cold, and having seen through the entanglements of the mortal world, they will come to believe that they had taken the wrong road all along. Within the mountain forests there are places of peace and stillness, where clouds and water naturally keep one company. One lives at ease, roaming freely through the years, casting off every restraint. On the southern branch of the locust tree, ants are still busily playing about. This also borrows the allusion of the "Nanke Dream," to express that worldly success and busyness are, in the end, only a dream.

Third Poem

Fame and fortune are like an invisible rope, binding even heroes so they cannot break free. Since ancient times, worldly affairs have been like a shadow play, where rise and fall, survival and extinction, all happen in the blink of an eye. Splendid concubines and wives, and halls decorated with gold and jade, easily attract the covetousness of others. Splendor is no more than tiny specks of dust. How long can it last?

People create layer upon layer of evil karma and endure repeated rebirths, suffering greatly. How can that compare with withdrawing early to awaken, and constantly calming the wild, indulgent stirrings of the mind? Break through the worldly net and turn the xuanguan (the critical gateway of cultivation), and one can grasp the true formula for becoming an immortal. When cultivation is complete and one returns, only a single bright moon can be seen over the river.

Xi Qian Ying (tune title)

To understand the true meaning of Dao (the Way) cultivation, one must sweep away all stray thoughts and false paths, like a person who, having lost a sheep, becomes lost among the forking roads. Shed the outer appearance and keep only the true nature; thoroughly cut off former ways of acting. A jade lotus blooms, untouched by a speck of dust. Refining jiangxue (crimson snow) and drinking xuanshuang (dark frost), both metaphors in neidan (internal alchemy), the elixir gathers again to full completion.

From then on, the heart holds no doubts, and one walks alone toward the green mountains and plants with one's own hands the wugen shu (rootless tree, a symbol in inner alchemy). The haoran qi (vast, flowing vital energy) fills the sky, and the numinous source bathes in moonlight, its radiance suddenly spreading out. Ten thousand measures of pearls cannot compare, yet one must still guard and treasure it firmly. Spirits cannot fathom it, and ghosts cannot summon it. When merit is complete, one rides off on a luan bird, a phoenix-like creature.

Shui Diao Ge Tou (tune title)

I have grown accustomed to quiet sitting. What would wandering among mountains and rivers add to my enthusiasm? Wash the worldly dust from the breast, and there is another kind of freedom. Whether in immortal palaces or in bustling markets and pleasure quarters, light can be seen everywhere. Do not ask about the dragon and tiger, the white snow, or the yellow sprout, which are terms of Daoist inner alchemy.

Do not be absorbed in poetry, do not crave wine, and do not cling to beauty. The fundamental matter of Dao has never had anything to do with the mundane world, so why boast of it to others? By day, one admires the scenery of one's homeland. By night, one faces the stars of Xuantian (the northern celestial realm in Daoism) and covers the clouds with a patchwork robe of a hundred pieces. Spirits and ghosts cannot fathom it, and in a blink one can roam the vast heavens and earth.

Second Section

Turn the bag inside out, and not a single coin can be found. The daily life of one who cultivates Dao was never about worldly pursuits. Possessing the clarity of the wise drinker among the Eight Immortals of wine, one washes away the heavy intoxication in the heart and views the mundane world with clear eyes. Sever the chains of fame, wealth, and rank, break through the boundary between life and death, and in an instant one can roam the vast heavens and earth.

The Third

Turn the purse inside out and not a single coin falls out. My daily life and my means of making a living have never had anything to do with the mundane world. I am like the most sober sage among drinkers, washing away the muddy intoxication from my heart and watching the dust of the world with clear eyes. I sever the bonds of fame, wealth, and rank, and pass through the gateway of life and death. I indulge in foolish pursuits, allow myself idleness, and let my nature run wild and playful. Even when the six roots (liugen, the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) pull and drag at me, they cannot drag me out of my quiet cave dwelling. There is also an extraordinary method (famen) of gathering a wisp of pure qi (qi) from the empty void, so that the mind becomes clear and cool as moonlight at night. Once you grasp its meaning, why bother asking where the Sanshan (the Three Isles, legendary immortal mountains in the sea) lie?

The Fourth

Turning through the annals of history, the rise and fall, glory and shame, all appear as a dream, like the dream of the Yellow Millet (Huangliang, the short dream in which the splendor of a lifetime vanishes before the meal is cooked). These illusory scenes, like flowers in the sky or shadows on a screen, vanish in an instant, and chasing after them is like madness. To do unnecessary things is like drawing feet on a snake. And since one does not understand the tale of the monkey keeper (Juqing, who divided acorns in the morning and evening, causing the monkeys distress, until he changed the arrangement and the total stayed the same), why let sorrow and joy lead the heart? Looking back toward my homeland, the familiar scenes of the past have already turned to desolation.

A hundred years of life is no more than a snap of the fingers, and in the blink of an eye the hair has turned to frost. When others ask, there is no need to answer at length. It is enough to accept the present calmly. On quiet nights, with the moon bright and the breeze gentle, I sit face to face with cloud-dwelling immortal friends and Dao companions among the rosy clouds, and our conversation and laughter never end. A cup of tea that washes the mind, and a single stick of incense left from before the world's calamity.

The Fourth (Second Version)

Like a traveler wandering in a foreign land, I cross the turmoil of the mortal world. When I return, I find courtyards and doorways everywhere, and at dusk the curtains are rolled up. On quiet nights, with the moon bright and the breeze gentle, I sit face to face with cloud-dwelling immortal friends and Dao companions among the rosy clouds, our conversation and laughter lingering long. A cup of tea that washes the mind, and a single stick of incense left from before the world's calamity.

The Fourth (Third Version)

I have run north, south, east, and west, my journey wearying me, and worn through countless pairs of straw sandals. Where at last can I find the Tiangen (the Root of Heaven, the fundamental place from which all things arise)? From where does the light ultimately come? That treasure, which has endured since ancient times, was already here all along. Entering Wuhe (the realm of "nothing-at-all," a state beyond worldly concerns), I roam the great desert (Taimo) and cross Kunlun. News of the Wind Immortal is not something one can hear by chance. As the illusory scenes before my eyes gradually dissipate, the moon remains full as always, its radiance piercing the water's surface yet leaving no trace. And still I rely on Fuyao Bo (an immortal of Daoist legend) to lift the clouds and mist high above the mountain ridges.

Meeting a close friend who truly understood me, I felt at once as though we had sworn a bond of gold and orchids, our hearts attuned to each other. Whether we ascended to the heavens or wandered through the mist, we could accompany and know one another. Worldly courtesies such as preparing millet and chicken to entertain guests had little to do with it. I often recall the scene beneath Kunkun Pavilion, where we gazed down over the vast sea and talked freely as we waved our whisk-brushes. Sunset clouds unfurled to the north of Zhenyang, and mist hid the mountain colors of Crane Mountain. As years passed and affairs changed, our old pact suddenly grew cold. The straw sandals and the ornate staff still remain, yet I still remember probing the mysterious gate (xuanguan, the crucial pass for investigating profound principles). I hope my mind may become full and bright like the moon, with the inner and outer self stilled, settled, and clear, while subtle pivots turn quietly within. That single point of numinous awareness looks undifferentiated from afar, and even across a thousand li two people can observe it together.

The Song of Man Jiang Hong still lingers in my heart. I only remember probing the mysterious gate. I hope my mind may become full and bright like the moon, with the inner and outer self stilled, settled, and clear, while subtle pivots turn quietly within. That single point of numinous awareness looks undifferentiated from afar, and even across a thousand li two people can observe it together.

The Slow Song of Man Jiang Hong, Presented to Registrar Liu

Before my eyes, all things seem like flowers reflected in empty air, drifting in confusion as if bound by ropes. Sunk in the soft splendor of the red dust, we take it for true joy. When the two Lu brothers of the Western Han arrived, their later troubles were forgotten. When the two Shu men (Shu Guang and Shu Shou) retired from office, who was first to see clearly the principle behind it? Now we dream the dream of the Kingdom of Southern Branch, our souls following the ants to the ruins beneath the locust tree. When will we wake? The rise and fall of states and the gains and losses of life need not be held in the heart forever, for splendor, however grand, must in the end scatter. There is no need to wait for others to advise us; we ought to reflect and understand for ourselves. Rub the dust from the ancient mirror, and one may see realms beyond the mundane world. Yet the Marquis of Sui's pearl (a precious gem) has been wasted on shooting sparrows from the eaves. When awakening comes, turn back and walk the cultivation path ahead, and then you may keep the appointment at the isle of Penglai.

Second Poem

Accompanied by a companion on the Dao (a fellow cultivator), we meet in a cloud chamber (a quiet cultivation dwelling), laughing and talking about breath regulation and the nourishing of qi. The weather is steaming with summer heat, and we sweat a little. Even sitting still, it is hard to withstand the swelter. We smash cold objects as clear as ice and jade and set them on a newly made table. It is as if Xuanming (the deity who governs stillness and cold) sits among us, bringing a chill to the mat. We drop a tea cake (a compressed tea) into a golden cup (a vessel of gold) and take a sip now and then, like a whale drinking in the waves of the sea. It dispels inner heat and also opens the chest. Its effects are especially wonderful, as if it possessed a spiritual power. We laugh about the tea-drinking pleasures of Lu Yuchuan (Lu Tong, the Tang tea connoisseur), and we also speak of the Zhaozhou monk who served tea to guests as a koan. The dharma realm (the realm in which all things co-exist) is clear and pure, as if one could cup it in one's hands. The numinous emptiness (a spiritually subtle and quiet realm) is vast without bounds, its light endless. To ask about the true flavor within it is hard to explain in words. Only by realizing it oneself does one know what it truly is.

Third Poem

Ten thousand treatises and a thousand volumes of scripture have all been widely read, and the koans of the Zhaozhou monk are among them. The dharma realm is clear and pure, as if one could cup it in one's hands. The numinous emptiness is vast without bounds, its light endless. If one asks about the true flavor within it, it is hard to explain in words. Only by realizing it oneself does one know what it truly is.

Fourth

Having refined oneself through a thousand hammerings and ten thousand grindings, what has one ultimately achieved? The cultivator's mind should be as clear as ice and snow. One should be carefree amid the worldly tumult and illuminate the bright moon of the heart. One should pursue the fundamental source and not dwell on the branches and leaves, the various twists and turns. Looking across the world, who is not a traveler on the road? Why say more? The practice of internal alchemy (Neidan) should be guarded with caution, and its proofs and essential keys kept carefully. "Having no dwelling, leaving no tracks" describes not clinging to a fixed residence and leaving no trail to follow. Do not calculate self against others, right against wrong, or high against low. The parrot, because it can speak, is confined in an ornate cage; the cuckoo weeps blood on the branch in vain. Amid a bustling world of fame, profit, carriages, and horses, one should speak sparingly and keep one's mind well concealed.

Fifth

A stubborn heart, how many levels must it pass through, how many endless cycles of arising and ceasing must it undergo? A person is driven by the workings of creation, rushing about without rest, enduring all manner of inversion and confusion. Even if one sacrifices many lives, what is achieved? Delusion as deep as the ocean is hard to transcend. Alas, the original spirit has sunk for so long, buried within kalpas as vast as sand and dust. To seek liberation, one must advance with courage. To find companions in cultivation who understand one's heart, one must discuss principles that are clear and pure. Apply effort to refine and wipe clean the nature of the heart until the inherent light of life fully manifests. When the wind stops and the waves settle, the bottom of the pool is revealed; when the clouds part and the sky opens, the moon shines upon the heart of heaven. Ask a mute what honey tastes like, and he cannot speak. A state personally experienced cannot be explained in words.

Sixth

Through countless lifetimes, one has wandered in displacement, as though there were no end. The red dust of the mundane world clouds the human heart like thick fog. Even when one labors earnestly to seek complete liberation, its subtle depths resist being described in words. It is like a monkey reaching for the moon's reflection at the bottom of a pool, or a foolish child licking honey from a blade's edge: both are futile and dangerous undertakings. Even more pitiable, people are bound by entanglements like a net of law, not knowing when they will be able to break free.

Yan stone is mistaken for precious jade, and the sun that appears on a bronze mirror is only an image. The fruits of Lunzao and the floating duckweed are likewise illusory things. When these obsessions are broken all at once, the inner message naturally emerges. Cut away the tangled branches, clear away the wild and disordered traces, return to one's original face, and hold fast to that single point in the heart, and one can truly comprehend the Dao (the Way).

Mǎn Tíng Fāng · Quánzhēn (Complete Perfection)

The original nature is whole and complete, and the true primal energy (the fundamental vital qi of life and cultivation) is genuine and without falsehood. It has never increased, nor has it diminished by a single particle. The source of spirit (the origin of life) has endured since antiquity and exists together with heaven and earth. People become stained by the various conditions they encounter, give rise to conscious cognition, and thereby invite faults and demonic obstacles. Unable to transcend them, they merely pass their lives idly, rushing about in a sea of suffering.

If a wise person wishes to attain liberation, they should turn their body and mind around and look inward at their own interior. Through this single turning thought, they enter the state of emptiness and non-action (wuwei). Examining the original nature inherent from the beginning, one will discover that error lies only in the most minute details. The myriad phenomena appearing before the eyes were all originally within clear perception. If one still clings to external circumstances, one remains drawn along by the mountains, rivers, and myriad things. Hang a bright mirror high to illuminate everything, then break through attachment, and one may clap one's hands and laugh.

Second Poem · On the Eightieth Birthday of Old Master Li

The Southern Pole Star gathers auspicious light, and the Shaowei star displays a sign of good fortune, coinciding with the descent of Old Master Li into the world on his eightieth year. The Master is as free and unhurried as water and clouds. In the golden cauldron he refines and nourishes the divine elixir (a metaphor for internal alchemy, neidan). He fully enjoys the tranquility of the Changchun Grotto-Heaven, wandering at ease beyond worldly affairs. He shows no sign of decline, as though accompanied by tortoises and cranes, and all dwell together in peace and joy.

The multitude sincerely offers their wishes, setting up altars and burning incense in prayer, hoping that he will transcend the calamities of the mundane world and forever preserve the bearing of an immortal. May he always keep his original countenance, untouched by decay and withering. In his eyes, past and present are like morning and evening, and the peaches of the immortal orchard have blossomed and borne fruit uncounted times. He dwells in ease for many years, holding a golden flask and drinking jade-green wine, and joins the assembled immortals in grand celebration.

Third Poem · On the Longevity of Director Li

Peach blossoms are gradually flushing red and apricot blossoms are faintly whitening, and the mid-spring scenery is delightful. Do not overlook the omen of the nine leaves: in Longyou (roughly present-day Gansu), celestial auspicious signs have descended. Auspicious qi gathers thick and verdant, and incense curls up from the precious censer as if drifting beyond the calamities of the kalpa. Gold and jade strike together with clear, lingering tones, and the immortal guests of the cavern-heavens (dongtian) gather in one place. Such fine times should be used for diligent cultivation, to develop the bearing of an immortal and to leave the dust of the mundane world early. Those who are enlightened know the world is illusory, so do not hesitate. Look at how the peaches of immortality bear fruit and the lingzhi fungus flourishes; there is no need to envy the longevity arts that Zhuangzi described. If one can constantly keep to this Way (Dao), one may come and go freely in the depths of the cavern-heavens and enjoy the spring light for a long time.

Jade Butterfly

A human life lived amid the chaos of the mundane world is like a dream. Time flies, and in an instant one cannot tell how many years have passed. People exhaust their cleverness yet cannot wake, even for a moment. To accumulate treacherous thoughts, to turn black into white, and to cling stubbornly without awakening is the most lamentable of all. Birth and death revolve endlessly, and one sinks within them in a sea of bitterness, vast and hard to escape. Obligations and desire bind like tangled ropes; the mundane world is like a pit of fire and a net; profit and fame are like chains and reins. One greedily grasps without end and fails to notice that the black hair has already been touched by autumn frost. It is like vainly contending for a startled deer in a dried-up moat, or like taking a wrong branch and blindly chasing a stray sheep, ending only in lingering and wandering. Only by going deep into the white clouds, quietly burning incense, can one find a place to return.

Second Poem: Living in the Village

Living in a remote and quiet countryside, far from the world, one builds a thatched hut and retires from many worldly affairs. Eating coarse grains and keeping to one's place is enough to live in peace. Strolling slowly beneath the moon and idling in the wind, with neat clothes and a calm heart, one may as well stay awhile. Wild clouds return to the mountain caves, and mist and water mirror the autumn colors. One gathers only a few belongings and quietly arranges one's cap, sash, and hair. The begging bowl is kept in a bag, and the staff goes along, with nothing else sought. Singing a tune to call the herd boy and freely summoning the sea gulls, what is there to worry about? When wielding the blade one moves with ease, like Cook Ding dismembering an ox with room to spare, and one is no longer deluded by appearances.

Life is like a dream, and the alternation of birth and death along with the changes of worldly affairs all happen without our noticing. Heaven and earth seem to have turned into a vast ruin. If one can grasp the meaning within this, one may commune with a realm of emptiness and vastness, as if watching clouds unfurl and curl over mountain fields. The mind rests on a nearby xu zhou (empty boat, a metaphor for a mind that clings to nothing), and the reflected image stays still like still water. A breeze blows a strand of gossamer, and in an instant it snaps. Heaven and earth become clear and free of dust, and the distinctions between the myriad things, between self and others, and between those who wrong us and those who are close to us all dissolve, so that they forget one another.

At this point one is content to live in the mountain valley, dwelling like a quail and roaming at ease. One listens, yet hears no sound; one looks, yet sees no form or color. One sets down attachments as heavy as a golden hammer, peels away the membrane that clouds the eyes of the heart, and regards everything before one as flowers of illusion in the air. Pure qi (vital energy) fills the window, the traces of people and oxen vanish, and a bright, luminous radiance appears. The scenery is deep and remote, and the grottoes and numinous realms (dongtian lingjing) are elusive and hard to find, as if only true cultivators could reach them. Walking onto the level broad road, shaking the head and swinging the arms, one becomes drunk in a state of free and easy wandering, surpassing an outing to the pavilions of Gaoyang Pond, a famous ancient garden. Worldly desires have receded far, human life is brief, and by the time one awakens, it is often too late.

Second, to the same tune

Immortal companions gather above the clouds, and in their talk and laughter they remark on how many times the seas have turned into mulberry fields in the human world. In a single breath of heaven and earth, the rise and fall of human affairs emerge and sink away, and the transformations of creation are swift as lightning. Between turning a hand there is existence and loss, and between turning a head there is gathering and parting; the myriad things are tangled and illusory. Playing with the squabbles of the Man and Chu states over a snail's horn (images of trivial strife) is no different from the ants busy below the locust tree in the dream story. In the drifting dream, even grand undertakings seem distant and unreal.

Countless treasures turn unseen, and mountains, boats, hills, and terrain keep changing. The human world is vast and empty, and few ever see through it in the end. The body is imprisoned for long kalpas, and what remains of life is merely a false legacy. If one's nature turns toward evil, one can hardly tell where the sun is, even when facing the sounds and images in a bronze basin. Try to apply the work of cultivation and brush aside the illusions that cloud the mind, and one can then see what is real with ordinary eyes. Looking closely, butterflies and tiny insects seem as large as mountains. The Dharma realm (fajie, the totality of all existence in Buddhist and Daoist teaching) pervades numinous emptiness, and clouds of compassion spread vast and wide. Only after clearly perceiving what is real does one know to begin cultivation, for even a moment's delay may already be too late.

Jade Maiden Shakes the Immortal Pendants

Within the Primordial Heaven (xiantian) there is a certain existence, at first hard to name, like the primordial qi that pervaded the mixed state before chaos divided. From it the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) takes form, and Yin-Yang first separate, then scatter and transform into countless different things. Yet the myriad things are always bound by their forms, and therefore burdened by them.

The things of the world had their origin before Heaven and Earth were divided. That origin was hard to name in words, like a chaotic, billowing primordial qi (Qi (vital energy)). The Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the fundamental state from which all things come into being, began to take on form, as the clear and the turbid first separate in a chicken's egg, and then scattered into countless differing things. Yet people are often bound by their bodily forms and driven by thoughts and desires. They exhaust their minds and their schemes, compete for fame and profit, and stir up endless turmoil. Life is spent in bustle, and in the end it amounts to nothing more than circling around these concerns.

Worldly people rush about in confusion and toil, but in the end, what do they gain? Who can believe that all things pass like torches handed from one to the next, that old things yield to new, and that we ourselves are no more than actors playing roles on a stage? Once one sees through this, one can shake the head with a smile, relax the brow, and illuminate the attachments accumulated over many lifetimes. The idle quarrels and gossip that people construct out of nothing need no further discussion, and they should not be allowed to harm the simple pleasures of life among mountain forests, springs, and stones. On a quiet autumn night, the clouds disperse and the sky opens, not a speck of dust stirs, and the moonlight flows like water. One who dwells in this state for a long time seems to lie drunk in the shade of the jade-green peach trees.

Dong Feng Di Yi Zhi (First Sprig in the East Wind)

Far from the cage of the mundane world, I drift like a small boat untethered, and in leisure I come to understand true delight. I have never envied the honors of an official career, nor the rule-bound lives of noble women in their chambers. Gazing up and down across heaven and earth, I open my heart and let the paths and courtyards before me grow bright. Meeting those of congenial mind, I go straight into the "land of non-being" (wu he you zhi xiang, the Zhuangzian realm of pure, free nothingness), loosen my headcloth, stretch out my limbs, and sit cross-legged at ease.

I do not envy the eminence of one who coils like a dragon or soars like a phoenix, nor do I chase literary renown or martial achievement. I do not force myself to act, nor cling to inaction; I do not strain to think, nor cling to not thinking. I live calmly and plainly among people, at ease and unhurried. Facing my old home, I enjoy its mild, clear scenery. Now that I have returned, I feel I have come back far too late.

Second Poem: On Tea

I unseal the packet and break open a dragon-patterned tea cake (tea pressed into a round cake), first examining the grain of its leaves. The tea maker, pure as a jade youth, works with practiced hands, and fragrance rises like a light mist. Drawing spring water from a silver kettle, he brews a fresh cup. Whisking the brew with exquisite technique is like beating whale-sized waves into fragments; by this skill alone, fine foam like scattered jade blossoms rises on the surface of the bowl.

This tea ritual has its own complete method and meaning, and one may taste it oneself without anyone urging. The tea broth washes the dust from the worldly heart and returns the mind to stillness. Within, a clear, bright moon seems to rise, pure and transparent. Stray thoughts vanish in an instant, inside and outside become lucid, and the true self is revealed. It is as though one wanders hand in hand with Lu Tong (Tang-dynasty tea poet), who was devoted to tea, through the immortal isles of Penglai and Yingzhou, lingering in a crystal palace and forgetting to leave.

"Jiang Shen Zi Man" is a tune pattern (cipai) for lyric verse. Clear, luminous moonlight spreads out like water, dispelling the gloom among the grasses and trees, so that everything inside and out is transparent and shows only its original nature. Thereupon one meets Yuchuan, and together they roam the immortal isles of Penglai and Yingzhou, lingering within crystal palaces.

On Incense

The jade boy (a youth who attends the immortals) comes to report that the morning incense has been lit. Awakening from an immortal's dream, it is as though one has returned from the Huaxu Realm of Great Peace (a legendary ideal state). Beside the plain silk screen the golden censer is warm, and the ash sets off the smoke, appearing empty, bright, and white. Opening the imperially bestowed wrapping, one has barely taken up a single petal of incense when its fragrance rises rich and sweet, the smoke spreading through the numinous void as though it reaches everywhere. The scent drifts through the Three Realms (sanjing, the layers of heaven and earth in Daoist cosmology), blending and filling them all, rising to the high heavens, descending to the thick earth, and even piercing metal and stone.

The land of Shenzhou seems to have just congealed in a jade cauldron. One recalls that before the branches had sprouted, the coming of spring was already faintly visible. Yet how many could recognize this subtle purity? The barriers of the mundane world make it hard to understand the changes as clearly as one understands fruit ripening. The fragrance is dense and pervasive, and the exalted perfected (gaozhen, lofty realized beings or divine lords of the Dao) in their caverns can all grasp it in silence, while the bees and butterflies flutter about with no trace of the scent to be found. The incense smoke draws out a faint thread that hangs in the empty air and dissolves into the unified realm of the vast sky.

Second Poem

The lotus pond has just stopped raining, and the lotus flowers lean over the water, clear as fine jade. The boy is told to break off a single stem and set it in a silver vase. The flower's form is pure and composed, like the Immortal of Guye (a fairy said to dwell on Mount Guye). In stillness there is something to be said, and heaven and earth understand one another within that silence. The bees and butterflies flutter about, yet nowhere can the fragrance of the flower be found. The scent draws out a faint thread that hangs in the void and dissolves into the unified realm of the vast sky.

Second Poem

The lotus pond has just stopped raining, and the lotus flowers lean against the water's surface, reflecting its clear light like fine jade. The boy is told to break off a stem and place it in a silver vase. Its form is pure and still, like the Immortal of Guye. In silence it conveys its meaning: heaven and earth join as one, and all things, great and small, are gathered within it, hidden in the palm-leaf scriptures (leaves on which ancient sutras were written).

To release this subtle, medicinal true light is to illuminate the world of dust and sand entirely. Through a single flower it secretly transmits the wondrous principle that has existed since antiquity, and in its soundless, colorless form it proclaims its profound meaning like the broad, long tongue of the Buddha (a Buddhist image for the proclamation of truth). Do not deliberately discriminate. Even the finest hair's breadth may be grasped, and once it enters the eye, it clouds the vision like flecks of gold. Brush away the dust of the past, and all things contain endless wonder. Even the idle peach and plum blossoms reveal their true faces. If one lifts this flower again, who would be willing to receive its deeper meaning? So one entrusts it to the bright moon above the flower's tip.

Qi Tian Le (tune pattern)

Burdened by this bodily form, cold and hunger assail together, truly like warts growing on the body. Let us try to probe the profound and mysterious root. At the beginning there was a single point of spiritual nature (lingxing), perfect, luminous, and boundless. The dust of the mortal world is endless, as if clouds of haze suddenly rise in a clear sky a thousand li wide. Relying on this inner spiritual wind, one blows the clouds away in an instant, leaving no obstruction.

Coming here was but a chance, and departing is merely returning to where one goes. Though the body is tiny, like the liver of a mouse or the arm of an insect, it is negligible. Heaven and earth are a great furnace transforming all things, and birth and death both lie within it. What is there to fear? Even when demonic obstacles and hindrances arise, one drives a divine steed and lets it run its course. Why dwell on going or staying? Sit serenely, forget all that weighs on the mind, and always rely on this resolve.

In the great furnace that transforms all things, birth and death both lie within it. What is there to fear? Even when demonic obstacles and hindrances arise, one drives a divine steed and lets it run its course. Why dwell on going or staying? Sit serenely, forget all that weighs on the mind, and always rely on this resolve.

Spring Comes from Heaven

The mortal world is a dense, murky haze. How sad it is that people, from antiquity to the present, have been sunk in it for so long without realizing it. In the marketplace of fame and profit, and amid the entanglements of self and others, everyone clings only to this bodily form. Consider this: everyone originally possesses that point of spiritual nature, and everyone has the material of immortal roots. Yet people hesitate and doubt, as if they were drunk and senseless. Even when called a thousand times, they refuse to turn back.

When will they awaken from the dream? Then they will see through everything of the past, which is no more than an illusion like the white ants building their nest in a locust tree. In the depths of the grotto-heaven (dongtian), fellow adepts wreathed in rosy light and immortal companions among the clouds gather to discuss the pure and mysterious principles, keeping one another company. Facing a quiet garden where purple ganoderma (zhi) grows, they raise jade-green wine in the fragrant breeze and drink. Such a life is truly carefree: dragons coil about, tigers stand guard, and one lingers in the immortal realm of Penglai.

Second: Tianshou Festival (the festival celebrating the emperor's birthday)

Heaven has sent auspicious blessings, and the Nine-Five Sovereign, the emperor whose position corresponds to the fifth line of the Yijing's Qian hexagram, has ascended the throne to establish a flourishing age. The emperor turns the transformations of heaven and earth and sets the cosmos in order, and as thunder rolls and lightning flashes, he accomplishes his great work. His renown reaches the Jade Capital and the Golden Gates, the abode of the Heavenly Thearch, and his majesty spreads far enough to awe distant lands. His achievements surpass those of Tao Tang, the sage king Yao of legend. This must be the season when grasses and trees sprout and all things gather, and the realm is at peace and secure.

Why speak only of how all under heaven and the lands of the four quarters receive his grace? Even the ignorant and humble common people rely on the protection of imperial favor. We are like upright grasses and sunflowers turning toward the sun, wholeheartedly grateful for his kindness yet unsure how to repay it. Incense burns in the censer, orchids release their auspicious fragrance, and we pray that the palace will be serene, its branches flourishing, and its blessings extending without end. May the emperor's realm stand firm and his life be without limit.

III

Human life is like the quarrels of the Man and Barbarian states on a snail's horn, a Zhuangzi allegory for the narrowness of human horizons and the triviality of worldly strife. Between the filling and the diminishing of primordial qi (yuanqi, the fundamental vital energy from which all things arise), life turns over and over in endless transformation. Life is brief, like a flash of lightning or a spark struck from stone, arising and perishing in an instant. Yet people exhaust their minds clinging to fame and profit, and they cannot let go even at death, so they only wear themselves away. Fame and profit are but an illusion, and yet they give rise to endless calculation.

What lies right before our eyes is close at hand, but people fail to see it. Mistaking the false for the real is truly foolish and stubborn. Peaceful times are rare, and the true Dao is hard to encounter, so one must recognize one's original home. Once one reaches the Land of Nothing Whatsoever (Wuheyou zhi xiang), a realm of non-attachment and serene freedom in the Zhuangzi's sense, one can ride the clouds, partake of jade elixirs and fragrant herbs, and stand alongside the immortals. Celebrating the everlasting spring of the heavens, one also brings that blessing down into the human world.

Fifth Poem

The eyes are fixed on fine horses and light furs, on splendid robes, as wealth and honor wrap themselves around the heart and leave a person as intoxicated as if drunk. The spring dreams beside the pillow vanish in an instant. Who still remembers the great roc that spread its wings, soared straight up into the clouds, and turned toward the south? The illusory things before us only disturb the mind to no purpose, binding a person in the shackles of fame and profit. What is there to cling to? Yet people still strive anxiously after trifling gains and the empty reputation of a snail's horn.

The spring dreams beside the pillow vanish in an instant. Who still remembers the great roc that spread its wings, soared straight up into the clouds, and turned toward the south? The illusory things before us only disturb the mind to no purpose, binding a person in the shackles of fame and profit. What is there to cling to? Yet people still strive anxiously after trifling gains and the empty reputation of a snail's horn. When one finally wakes to the truth, one understands that in the arena of fame and fortune one should stop, unbuckle one's travel gear, and turn to a cultivation that lies beyond the secular world. One should press on to break through the doubts within the heart and smile at the shifting tricks of "three in the morning and four in the evening." A trace of one's original true nature will then appear, still as a cold pool reflecting the autumn moon. Within this state one should contemplate, listening as the Golden Youths sing and the Jade Maidens discourse on profound principles.

Fifth Poem

The heart is like withered wood, and the intent like cold ash. Dwelling in a thatched hut in the wilds, one finds the forest quiet and plain. The place is remote and free of footprints, the moonlight is clear, a gentle breeze stirs, and the window is spotless. Here the signs of nature appear on their own: silver radiance shines brilliantly, and jewel-like treasures gleam, and one dwells truly at ease. Look at the dragon coiling around the golden cauldron and the phoenix dancing above the elixir terrace. These are common symbolic images in the practice of alchemical cultivation.

Everyone in the world is intoxicated by fame and gain, so who can, relying on the aspiration of the roc, break through the many layers of netting? These words are worth believing. Those of extraordinary bearing should not give up halfway and return empty-handed. If one mistakes emptiness for nothingness, one will accomplish nothing and will only squander one's aptitude for immortality. Return early to attend the Peach Banquet and converse and laugh in the immortal realm of Penglai.

To the Tune "Flower in the Rain"

A single point of spiritual origin, clear and luminous, can illuminate the dust of desire accumulated over many lifetimes and kalpas. The realm within the gourd, undisturbed by night, holds scenery that endures forever. The jade qilin crouches and roars, and the stone maiden discourses at the bedside. These are all symbolic scenes of cultivation. When the Sea Lad (Haitong) stirs a single thought, it is as if snow were falling from a clear sky across the vast heavens, and the gulls no longer descend.

Whether lofty peaks or tiny insects, all are gathered into the movement of the breath (qi), and the cold valleys grow warm because of me. How much more so when one is moved to recall past affairs and to mourn with the soul-summoning laments of Chu. Before the eyes are only bronze basins and candles, along with the light and fragrance left by the evening sun. The divine elixir has already been completed, and the dark pearl remains whole, in this silent and deep state, neither fully awake nor fully asleep.

The same in the forest and mountains as in the markets of the dusty world: wherever a person is, they can roam freely in the realm of profound stillness and emptiness. This state is originally complete and full, and not a single bit of it may be added or subtracted.

A body like a black lacquered bucket is willing to sink into worldly dust and daub itself with paint and powder on the stage of the world. The withered body leans against a table, and who will question Heaven? Boasting alone is futile, since both form and reputation lodge in obscurity. Listen to its sound and trace its marks, and contemplate its subtle, true original face. It is neither lead nor mercury, nor pearl or jade. Even if one brings it out and handles it, comparing it in many ways, its exquisite quality is still difficult to describe. Who has the craft of Wheelwright Pian, who shaped wheels just right, or the precision of the craftsman whose adze moves like the wind and pares away the white clay? Whatever lies before us, vast or minute, every form shows its own unmoving suchness.

Twenty years ago, I still remember, we sat facing each other and talked in Shanyang. The trees and grasses there were lush, their green like jade. In the midst of laughter and conversation, we spoke of the immortal isle of Penglai and of the sea turning into mulberry fields, and then of land rising and waves surging. It was a joy that our spiritual natures remained wholly undiminished and that the two jade-green trees could still be admired together. Amid the turmoil of war, through the long dark nights, we once talked and gathered together. Now, in my remaining years of leisure, I am like a single small boat without a mooring, drifting wherever the rivers and seas carry it, and not counting its comings and goings.

We are both old now, separated by a thousand miles of mountains, and meeting to talk is very difficult. I jest that in these later years I have acquired the idle habit of resting my feelings in mountains and waters, lingering for long stretches among the breeze and the bright moon. At parting, I hope we are both well. May the mountain roots that the clouds rest upon, and the firm, water-like spirit we share, remain as they are, so that when we meet again we can still face each other and smile.

Wanghai Chao (Gazing at the Tide)

Spring ice has only just begun to melt, yet the long river already surges forward; in the season of peach blossoms, the emerald waters rise and the waves churn. If the sea god Ruo should happen to descend, the river god Feng Yi would surely greet him with a smile. The spiritual source casts off worldly dust and seems to bring the leisure of a clear breeze and a bright moon.

May we both be well after we part, as steadfast as mountain stone and as spirited as flowing water, and when we meet again may we still be delighted and smiling.

This body is fleeting, yet fame and profit have no end, and people strain after them with toil and craving. Pursuing the countless affairs of the world, what do they gain in the end? In a life of a hundred years at most, one ends up with nothing but a lonely burial mound. Life is like the morning dew on the tips of flowers or the foam (fu'ou, bubbles on the water's surface) floating on a pond, gone in an instant. If one awakens early, one should let go. One must see through the constraints this physical form places on a person, sever the delusions that have bound people for thousands of years, and leap free of the torrent of worldly life. Only then can one roam freely and openly, cultivating a single divine elixir beyond the dust of the world, and once the work is complete, ascend effortlessly to Yingzhou (a legendary immortal mountain in the sea).

Golden Youth Attending the Incense

Heaven and earth are vast, and the mind is open and free, unbound by anything. One or two friends of like aspirations keep company, dressed in plain rustic robes. To find a dwelling that suits the heart, any place will do: pine wind stirs among the mountains, and the mountain streams run clear and cold as jade. Inside the thatched hut, the hearth is warm and the fragrance of incense hangs in the air. Listening to refined music, one feels as though the melody drifts down from beyond the clouds. Distant peaks are framed in the window, and the moon shows its clear and luminous face. Even without reaching the fairy realms of Penglai and Yingzhou, such a life is already deeply satisfying.

Jade Maiden Who Conveys Words

The two meet with smiles, and at a single glance each recognizes the other as a kindred spirit. In a profound and still state of mind, the distant mountains are green like a single point of blue. The clouds shift over the cavern-heaven (dongtian, a blessed land where immortals were said to dwell), and the green rocks rise and sprawl in layered profusion. The lingzhi (the fungus of immortality, a legendary herb of the immortals) continues to grow, unaware of how many autumns have passed. Penglai seems to lie within reach, and in the course of conversation one can speak of the vast seas turning into mulberry fields and back again. Hand in hand, they seek out the true Way and roam together between heaven and earth. All the countless thoughts of the human world change and dissolve like lightning and wind-blown shadows. The gathering atop the Jade Peak should not be revealed to outsiders.

Gazing at the Plum Blossoms

Cloth Robe

The wide cloth robe is finished, easy to slip on and off, with no sashes needed. The collar is broad, and the chest feels open and unconstrained. The underarms are unrestricted, so the elbows can move freely. There is nothing else remarkable about it. A traveling jacket may be worn over it, especially suited to quietly observing from within a crowd. Wearing it, one feels that the whole body can bear everything in peace, without hindering one's glances forward or back. It pairs gracefully with straw sandals and suits carrying an ornate staff to greet and see off immortal companions. If someone asks what this robe is worth, one can plainly unfold it and explain.

Second Poem: "Padding a Robe"

Do not worry about whether your clothes are neat. Use grass, cloth, silk thread, whatever colors you have, and lay them out in crisscrossing horizontal and vertical rows. Set to work and bind the head as well, stitching everything together. The result lies here: piece after piece of cloth and strand after strand of thread, densely woven into a garment that fits close to the body and holds firm. Wearing it, you can withstand cold and heat as you wish. Wherever you are, you need not be anxious. Reaching, turning the elbow, climbing, rolling about, the whole body moves without any need to conceal itself. When no one is watching, you can act at ease, dare to take things on, and become the master of your own life.

"Mo Shan Xi" (To the Tune of "Mountain Ravine")

In daily life I am lazy and do not know how to trouble myself over trifles. My dwelling is simple, and it is enough that it shelters my body. Why would I still ask about the Jade Terrace and Jasper Isles (legendary abodes of the immortals)? Even if only two or three rustic households live nearby, I do not reckon gain or loss, I do not make a show of coming and going, and I settle myself in peace.

"Mo Shan Xi" (To the Tune of "Mountain Ravine")

In daily life I am lazy and do not know how to trouble myself over trifles. My dwelling is simple, and it is enough that it shelters my body. Why would I still ask about the Jade Terrace and Jasper Isles? Even if only two or three rustic households live nearby, I do not reckon gain or loss, I do not make a show of coming and going, and I rarely even step beyond my gate.

My love of mountains, waters, and mists is like an incurable illness, one that no ordinary remedy can cure. I simply let the mind rest at ease and refuse to let the source of my spirit be disturbed. Beyond walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, I have no other skill. What truly matters is to be at peace and free in wandering, and this is the path I will follow from now on.

Second Poem

A flicker of the brows, a blink of the eyes, and the profound and subtle principles of the Dao are fully spoken. It is like soothing a child's crying with a yellow leaf, so do not simply wait for blades to clash and strife to go on without end. The guardian of the Jade Gate Pass has grown old, so let him return home and speak no more of warfare. Now is a season of leisure and peace, and every household has village-brewed wine.

A walking staff rests across the shoulders, and one sings a tune, "li-luo-li." Why envy the glory of official rank at court? And why should one care about the tortoise in Zhuangzi's tale, who would rather drag its tail through the mud and live? The carp swims freely and leaps over the Dragon Gate (Yumen, the gate which, according to legend, lets a carp that leaps over it transform into a dragon). Gather up the nets, lay down the fishing line, and no longer bother to bait the hook.

Third Poem

In the habits of the past, how much worldly dust and confusion has accumulated? Once awakened, you must hurry to clear it away, one piece at a time. Whether moving or sitting still, concentrate on examining yourself. Right and wrong, idle affairs, not a hair's breadth of them should stay in your heart. Hold your mouth firmly shut, strive to gather in your thoughts, and first sweep away the distinction between self and other.

Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, do not let the Ruler of the Mind (the thought that governs the spirit) be troubled. The higher Dao has its own subtle gateways, and it will not be readily understood by those who are deluded and ignorant. Keep accumulating merit and cultivating conduct, and the eye of wisdom will suddenly open. Then the sacred fungus will grow, the Great Elixir (the elixir produced through Daoist internal alchemy practice) will be completed, and you will become an immortal who does not age or die.

The essential methods for ascending through cultivation cannot be casually revealed to those clouded by ignorance. Only after continually accumulating merit and good deeds does the eye of wisdom suddenly open. Then the sacred grasses flourish and the Golden Elixir is perfected, allowing one to become an Immortal free from the afflictions of old age.

Ten years have slipped by, and at last I have cultivated a mind free from attachments. I take nothing to heart and have utterly severed worldly desires and social entanglements. I greet people as they come and go with calm indifference, living at ease. I put my socks on inside out and dress in the wrong order, caring only that others may like or dislike it as they please.

I forged a three-foot sword, sharp as the famed Longquan blade. Its sword energy rises straight to the heavenly court, yet its edge remains concealed, like a butcher who handles an ox with effortless skill. I pace about, looking in every direction, and dare not act rashly. I keep it at my side, seal it away carefully, and preserve it for the long term.

The roots of doubt have not yet been severed, and the wandering spirit has not returned; so many idle fancies and stray thoughts keep one bound. If one could be as free as drifting clouds and flowing streams, one could choose whether to stay or leave, even amid the restraints of fame and profit. Once one has severed ties with the mundane world, ordinary feelings and desires can all be set aside. Yet one can only regret that it is already too late to gather the mind back in. If one could drink of the Peaches of Immortality amid the depths of multicolored auspicious clouds, one would have no reason to envy a house filled with children and grandchildren.

Leaning against the mountain ridge, disappearing into the mist, dancing by the pool with one’s reflection, one is nonetheless misled by outward refinement and reputation. What fault is there in fine timber such as camphor and nanmu, that it should suffer countless wounds from axe and adze? Though people are plainly awake, they still fail to awaken; in the end, they move toward old age and death. Where is the empty reputation they leave behind after death? They take a fleeting span of time for something real and forget the Way of long life.

Jade splits apart and pearls leave their shells because they expose themselves and thereby invite harm. The patterned leopard and luxuriantly furred fox, too, bring harm upon themselves through their exceptional coats. Who among the crowds is willing to conceal their brilliance and preserve themselves? People concern themselves only with grooming and dressing, competing to stand out and rushing to show themselves off. Boast of your achievements, and once your work is done, it is time to withdraw. Pursue fame, and the moment you attain it may also mark the beginning of your decline. The youthful face in the mirror cannot last; in the end, it turns to dust, while the precious inner “Dark Pearl”—a symbol of one’s original nature and the Dao—is cast away in vain.

The Mysterious Pearl, symbolizing innate true nature, has no equal. Its true original face is beyond comparison and cannot be obscured by even a speck of dust. Through long practice, it becomes ever clearer. It should be treasured within the Celestial Treasury, for nothing can compare with it. The practitioner feels at ease throughout the body, no longer constrained by clever schemes or distracting thoughts; the restraints of rules and worldly emotions also fall away. Some may come to bargain for it, but this treasure cannot be bought or sold in the human world.

Part Five

The seed of innate spiritual nature seems to enter the dream of Huaxu, the legendary land of dreams. One should pursue what the world considers useless. The Mysterious Pearl is treasured in the Celestial Treasury, sealed away securely, with a vow never to display it amid the dusty world. The demon host clamors, and all manner of voices come and go. Though it appears imposing and noble, as if taking the stage in a golden mane, it has forgotten that it should stand as steady and unmoving as a mountain.

Part Six

Wife and children are like iron shackles, and household affairs like raging flames: they torment and press upon us. How can anyone endure them? How little are these petty gains, no bigger than a fly’s head or a snail’s horn, and yet people stake their lives competing over what is yours and what is mine.

Part Six

Clinging to delusion, people willingly remain trapped in a cage. Those profound, unfathomable mysteries cannot be solved by guesswork. One can only wait for Yama, the ruler who judges life and death in the underworld, to send someone to seize one’s soul. Will one’s grandchildren really have time to grow up first?

Part Seven

A curved hook draws fish to compete for bait; a straight hook catches none. From ancient times to the present, the principle has been plain. People take the false affairs of the world as real, yet never recognize the innate supreme treasure: their original true nature. The heart is clear, like a solitary full moon shining overhead; forgetting self and other, one unites with the Dao and no longer makes reckless conjectures about the myriad things. A single point of original true nature reaches up to Heaven, allowing one to roam freely on Mount Gushe, the legendary abode of immortals.

Part Eight

With a heart bent on cunning and a body full of swagger, people act as though they can deceive Heaven and Earth. They harm others to benefit themselves, injuring living beings. Who can bear the burden of all the karma they have made? When the underworld tribunal delivers its judgment, how can they escape? They are not allowed to evade it with forceful words and sophistry. Even if they take on a new body, it will be no better than before. After enduring every hardship, when will they finally be free?

Part Nine

The source of spiritual nature is like a springtime riverbank, with orchids and fungi growing in a medicinal garden. It awakens in me the wish to return to my true nature, like the rain-prayer dance of ancient times. When the Jade Hall and Golden Bureau, the offices of Heaven or the underworld, deliver their judgment, how can one escape? They are not allowed to evade it with forceful words and sophistry. Even if they take on a new body, it will be no better than before. After enduring every hardship, when will they finally be free?

The numinous source is like a secluded isle by the water in spring, where orchids and other fragrant herbs grow in a medicinal garden. This scene awakens my longing to return to my original nature, like one who dances in a rainmaking rite to pray for rain. Jade halls and golden chambers appear among the clouds and rosy mists; only then do I believe that, when I raise my eyes to the heavens, there truly is a path leading there. Jade terraces and jeweled islands, pearl groves and splendid trees, all lie before my eyes. Fragrant mists and divine winds guide me onward. How many times have I watched peach blossoms open over the sea? In a thousand years, they bloom only once.

Part Ten

Amid the sound of the ritual clappers, I hear words of deception, and so even our innocent nature becomes deluded. Everyone loves to scheme, seek shortcuts, and put on an act. They recite the nameless true fire and step through the footwork of pacing the void, yet all they do is fret over appearances and play at tricks. They have little to show for their efforts, but put on the airs of cultivation and flaunt all the skills they have learned in a lifetime. What, in the end, is the point? They cannot even find the Dark Pearl, symbol of the mysterious Dao, and seem as lost as Wangxiang, the wondrous figure in an ancient fable who found the pearl but no longer knew where to go.

Part Eleven: Presented to the Great Abbot of Tancheng

When you came, it was as though I had awakened; when you depart, it is like a dream. You leave me, and I can only bid you farewell without attachment. Before you go, I have little to say, except this: do not make light of the ways of human relationships and worldly affairs. You should honor the true master and choose a secluded place for cultivating the Way. Ride a brightly colored luan and a golden phoenix to the immortal realm of Penglai, and drink freely of the immortals’ peach wine at their gathering. This is better than frolicking amid the clamor of the human world.

End of Volume Five of the Collected Works from Cloud Mountain

Collected Works from Cloud Mountain, Volume Six: Lyrics

Composed by Perfected Master Zhichang, Ji Zhizhen

Taichang Yin

Deep in the night, moonlight falls upon a silent hall. I burn a fine incense of returning the soul, as though its smoke could restore my spirit. At this moment, self and things alike are forgotten; in a trance, I seem to be in the imperial realm of Qingwei, a heavenly land spoken of in Daoist tradition. All the affairs of past and present before my eyes—the contests and gains and losses of the human world—are like sheep lost by a herdsman, vanishing at last without a trace. Yet people do not know to guard themselves at dangerous passes; they still rush to and fro beneath the locust and sandalwood trees on the battlefield of worldly fame and profit.

Mountain scenery is veiled in mist rising from the stream, where gibbons and cranes keep one another company in freedom. Far from the turmoil of the mortal world, one can settle both body and mind in a realm beyond it. With a medicine furnace and an elixir cauldron, refine a new Jade Radiance Elixir from phoenix cream, dragon shavings, and other ingredients. Wander and feast at ease, enjoying springlike beauty for a long life. To take up such a way of life, one must have the broad spirit of the immortals of old in the Fanghu Isles.

The Third

The turmoil of the mortal world stirs the mind like a dream, leading people step by step into danger. Only on waking do they feel astonished and bewildered. Then they strive to break free from the constraints imposed by this body. With a medicine furnace and an elixir cauldron, refine a new Jade Radiance Elixir from phoenix cream and dragon shavings. Wander and feast at ease, enjoying springlike beauty for a long life. To take up such a way of life, one must have the broad spirit of the immortals of old in the Fanghu Isles.

The Third

The turmoil of the mortal world unsettles the mind, making people seem to walk in a dream, with danger at every step. Only when they wake do they feel startled and confused, and then they suddenly break free from their cage-like bonds. They wear straw sandals, lean on a fine staff, and put on a plain cap, letting their hair grow wild; then they don a bamboo rain hat and a straw cloak. They let themselves drift east and west with the clouds and waters, no longer caring about other people’s judgments.

The Fourth

Whether wise or foolish, people are busy striving and scheming for fame and profit. It is like riding the tide, wrestling with waves a thousand fathoms high. A life of a hundred years ends in dust; people toil all day and pass their lives in hardship. Looking back along the road behind, then gazing into the distance, they see that the mountains and rivers are still unsettled.

The Fifth

Even when their hair has turned white, people remain bound to the mortal world, rushing in confusion along countless branching paths. They are like walking corpses: who is driving them back and forth, ceaselessly on the move? Before them lies a clear sky, bright moonlight, and a stream among the clouds—a place made for stopping and resting. Tell others of it, and they only grow more doubtful. It is like knowing one is fooling oneself by stealing a bell, yet stubbornly covering one’s ears all the same.

The Sixth

Life in this world is like that of a child who has wandered away and lost the way, coming and going as if crazed. People knead lumps of mud in the mire, yet never recognize the precious spirit pearl, bright as a luminous jewel. Through countless storms and years of wear, they refuse even for a moment to wake in alarm. Where, then, is one’s true home? Once it is pointed out, how could the doubt in one’s heart be so easily forgotten?

Creation has fashioned the world into a marketplace full of disputes over right and wrong, fame and profit. People rush about within it, seeking only to claim reputation and gain. Those caught in delusion argue and compete with one another, forgetting their original home. Life endures the icy blows of hardship and the wind and rain of sorrow; cold and heat alternate, and change comes again and again. If a single thought in the heart remains impossible to let go, one can only bear the cycles of rebirth through countless kalpas.

Eight

I am neither a monk nor a layperson, and I do not seek to become an immortal. I live in two or three thatched huts, keeping company with white stones and clear springs. Who would still ask where the immortal Peach Blossom Spring lies? It is enough to burn a coil of incense and drink a cup of spring tea—clear tea brewed with snowmelt—to nourish the body and mind through the Three Dantians (energy centers): the upper, middle, and lower. In my leisure, I think about the “Treatise on the Valley Spirit,” a work on the Dao and the cultivation of health. Before I know it, a full moon has risen above the pine branches.

Nine

The Dao cultivator’s life is prized for its quiet, emptiness, and simplicity, free from the constraints of fame and profit. There is not even a single coin in the purse, like a dewdrop resting briefly on a round lotus leaf without being stained by it. A gourd of food is enough to keep one alive; a coarse cloth robe is enough to cover the body. What else is there to seek? Sleeping with one’s head on a high pillow, the spirit wanders through Huaxu, the legendary ideal realm. Free and at ease beyond the dusty world, one seems to dwell amid the grand celestial music of the Jade Emperor’s Jun Tian.

Ten

Knowing fully that all things in the world vanish in the blink of an eye, one should break free of the cage that binds one and live in peace, without needing to ask about the Three Mountains and Five Peaks, the legendary abodes of immortals. Carry a pill of elixir and a walking stick, and roam freely east and west. Everywhere, kindred companions gather like clouds, all moving freely through the mysterious and profound realm of the Dao.

Partridge Sky

After the rain, the sky clears; the clouds disperse and the wind turns fresh. New lotus leaves cradle the dew, whose droplets are round and gleaming. Clear springs murmur beyond the dusty world, and white stones rise high, just right for keeping me company as I lie drunk and sleep. I dwell among mountain hues and the sound of water, lingering over wind and moon as we discuss the hidden, wondrous principles of the Dao. A child by the stream wants to ask about worldly affairs. I smile and point to the willow blossoms swirling through the sky like catkins.

Two

Drawing cakes to satisfy one’s hunger is, in the end, an illusion; carving a mark in a boat to find a lost sword is certain to fail. Counting with foolish devotion the contracts others have left behind, or hoping to find again the hare that once ran into a tree stump, are equally futile. The way of the sages lies right before us, and the books of the ancients can serve as our guide. But chaff and husks can never become luminous pearls. Only when the myriad scattered thoughts have been swept away will one understand the principle within. How could such subtle wonder ever be explained to another?

In spring, the old garden spreads out in a sea of red blossoms and green leaves, with flowers and trees vying to bloom. Yet the spring wind does not let this scene endure. The plants shed their old branches and welcome new life, following their own pattern of change. Petals carpet the ground, willow fluff fills the sky, green fruit forms on the branches, and mist hangs among the leaves. They follow the changes of nature, quietly witnessing the scene on the branches continually transform.

Flowers open at dawn and fall by dusk; the flourishing of plants and trees is brief. Round lotus leaves rise above the water, and dewdrops roll from their surfaces. Fiery red clouds spread high across the sky. Heat shimmers, sweat pours, and exhaustion becomes hard to bear. At such a time, one enters the Chamber of Emptiness and Purity, a room for quiet cultivation, and recites the Yellow Court Scripture, a Daoist text on health and cultivation. The mind grows fresh and calm, retaining a sense of cool ease. Sitting quietly, one watches Creation—the transformations through which nature brings forth life—turn as it will, while the world’s heat and troubles never cease.

In autumn, golden chrysanthemums bloom beautifully beside a sparse fence, as if nature’s workings had arranged them with special care. Insects chirp in the grass, as though speaking of the autumn scene. Lotus leaves wither, duckweed grows old and dry, and the reeds turn white. The west wind rises, sending red leaves fluttering down. The mountains appear lean, and the waters surge and race. All things in the world flow and change, ultimately returning to their source. Those who cultivate the Dao, too, rejoice as the Three Peng—the three corpse spirits said in Daoism to dwell within the body and record a person’s faults—are destroyed. Through the silent night they remain awake, sitting quietly in the Palace of Crimson Radiance, the heart’s place within the body.

Frost and snow lie thick, all things wither, and the long winter nights are hard to endure. The workings of nature urge all things to return to their original source, while the force of the seasons’ cycle moves the cultivator to nurture the “Great Return,” a Neidan term for refining and nourishing essence and Qi to return to their source. The earth’s axis is steadied, the Gate of Heaven secured, and the Jade-Sealed Isle of Gems and the Three Mountains—the legendary mountains of the immortals—are set in place. True immortals take no heed of worldly turmoil. And who has ever seen the sea turn into mulberry fields, or yellow dust fill the sky?

Dust swirls outside the gate, and the mountain attendant dares not open the Cloud Gate. The Daoist sits quietly on the stone altar, traveling in spirit to the north, then entering the Land of Nothingness, the Daoist realm of the void, and arriving at the Jade Capital, the legendary celestial city of the immortals. Fragrance curls through the air, and vital energy fills it; dragons, flying phoenixes, and immortal companions gather among the clouds. The Daoist pours and drinks the jade-green wine with his own hand, drinking deeply in the realm of Profound Mystery, the Daoist domain of deep and subtle truths. Drunk, he rides the wind down to the Great Clarity, one of the Daoist heavens.

The Creator frolics capriciously like a mischievous child, pulling strings to make puppets perform on a stage. The tricks of spirits and ghosts tumble and transform, while the living dead bustle about day and night. This is no real plum blossom, nor is it a place that leads to fame and fortune. Green flies and white mantises fight and wound one another. Who is beating the rhythm, making people chase after sounds and colors? When the clapping ends and the show is over, all that remains is a backward glance and a smile.

Number Nine

Entangled in layers of bewildering knots, one loses freedom, laboring to pursue things that never belonged to oneself. The heart was free of trouble to begin with, yet one insists on striving to stand out amid the clamor of the crowd. One inflates the ego, clinging to the self, and frets on behalf of others. Before fame and success are won, the hair at the temples has already turned white. Do not let the wind tear the screen meant to shield it, along with its fine threads. Once you let go, all things return to stillness and emptiness.

Number Ten

Cling to nothing among the many affairs of life, and ease will come of its own accord; the turmoil of the dusty world has nothing to do with you. Too much cunning entangles you in the net of fame and fortune. Refuse to keep your mouth shut, and you will be like a fish swallowing a hook and getting caught. Cast off worldly entanglements and live as freely as clouds and flowing water, without laboring to turn over schemes in your mind. Spread out sedge for a mat, rest your head on a white stone, and lie down fully clothed, watching wild birds and mountain apes gaze at one another.

Number Eleven

Like a lost child, one wanders far away and refuses to return home. When someone explains the Mysterious Pass, the crucial point concerning the subtle workings of body and mind in Neidan cultivation, the child only grows more confused. If, on this journey, one meets the old immortal Shangqiu, one would abandon this skull-like body without hesitation. When it is time to wake up, one delays; later, one is slow to act. How many people understand the mystery within? The spring breeze need not deliberately announce the arrival of spring: plum and peach blossoms will fill the branches on their own.

Number Twelve

Falsehood and affectation grow day by day, and people squander their time with ease. The more they scheme, the more endless their worries become; all their doubts and deliberations are hard to bear. Troubles weigh on the heart, and the hair at the temples gradually turns gray. Still they chase after fame and success in this world. Pack your words into a cloth bag, then lift your eyes: all you see in the human world is money.

Number Thirteen

Heal your frenzied heart and forget the burdens of worldly attachments. In dealing with others, even when you blame one another, keep your mind clear as ice. See all that happens in the human world, and you will know when to stop. Step beyond the world, and your vision will naturally grow clear. The mountains and forests are quiet, the flowing water cool, and the full moon overhead shines among sparse stars. The wind among the pines sounds like a kindred spirit, summoning all things to sing along, night after night.

Number Fourteen

Those who pursue the deer remain asleep in their dream, never waking. Everything they encounter before their eyes eventually fades like dust. The traces of the ancients have now dwindled to legends; where are the fame and rank pursued so strenuously in past and present lives? The Bright Moon Grotto, the Tumbling Mound, and all manner of tangled talk are not worth heeding. Drink the rosy clouds—the fabled wine of the immortals—and a single draught will intoxicate you for three thousand days. There is no need to heed the sun’s rising and setting as it hurries time along.

Fifteen

People of the world rush from life to life through countless existences, yet remain trapped in torment, their circumstances perilous and harsh. A hundred years pass, and still they have not shed the burdens of body and mind; a thousand years pass, and still they cannot put an end to injury and strife. The human heart surges, desires rise like waves, and the urge to contend follows. Bound by the cords of their own delusion, people gather into a whole city of sorrow. Again and again they pour muddy water over the vexations in their hearts, then twist their words around and mistake confusion for peace.

Sixteen

Time flashes past like something slipping through a crack, driving us toward our end. Count on your fingers: how many days does this fleeting life hold? Karmic consciousness, accumulated through the force of karma, piles up like mustard seeds until it is nearly full. Even if we brush dust from the stones and part the veiling clouds, we still cannot see clearly. People compete over whose merits are greater and whose faults came first; in the end, even heroes become ashes after death. They take a mass of illusion for idle amusement and lose themselves in it. Though someone calls right beside them, they are as deaf and cannot hear.

Seventeen

I regret that I should have been a carefree recluse, dwelling in the mountains and cultivating the Way in quiet, yet I am forever being sent on errands and can never rest. My friends join forces to shove me from my place; the beat of drum and clapper hurries me on, pushing me up a tall pole to perform. With nothing to rely on, even turning around is hard. Everyone comes to mock me—how could I possibly feel at ease? I meant to treat people kindly, but ended up seeming to do them harm; I meant to transform them with a warm breath, but brought them only a chill.

Eighteen

The Taiji, the subtle and tranquil source from which all things arise, is clear as a bright mirror; Heaven and Earth are originally reflections within it. The human body is like a shadow layered upon another shadow, and the forms of the myriad things are names lodged within names. External things are like objects in the air, and the judgments of the world like words spoken in a dream. This mass of illusion is only a play staged within inner clarity. Living without understanding, people take phantoms for reality and, in their dreams, fight over things that are empty to begin with.

Immortal by the River

Everyone in the world busily strives for wealth and rank, while the Daoist alone calmly reflects on the affairs of the world. People do not understand that the myriad things are illusory, so they take them for real and, in this dreamlike world, struggle over what is empty.

All the people of the world jostle and strive for wealth and status, while those of the Daoist path are content with poverty. Poverty, gentleness, humility, and self-restraint can, in the end, keep one secure and grounded in life. When the mind is calm and untroubled, one can feel at ease wherever one happens to be and enjoy what is natural and true. A single spark of noble integrity shines whole and bright like an ancient mirror, untouched by dust. When one’s discipline and practice are brought to completion, one naturally reaches the realm of the divine. Beyond the Three Realms, one wanders freely through every season as if it were spring.

Part Two

Time is merciless, rushing past like lightning; a human life cannot withstand endless wear. The road ahead is steep and perilous, so do not let your time go to waste. Even if you are trapped in a bitter ordeal like a pit of fire a thousand feet deep, struggle to leap out and climb to higher ground. Seek another place of peace and purity; sweep away the turmoil in your heart and let the waves subside. Without moving a single step, you can arrive at “No-where”—a state free of attachment and utterly at ease. Blow a flute without holes and play a song of peace and joy.

Part Three

I have always been a useless person in this world, having forgotten every sort of worldly calculation. I once sat in stillness for ten years in an empty hall, enduring a bitter austerity like ice and snow. The ties of human affairs tug at me and unsettle my spirit; all manner of tricks cannot be concealed. So I think of a secluded place among cloud-wreathed mountains. What harm would there be in building a thatched hut there and living in retreat? The bamboo pavilion and pine-lined path are especially quiet. Moonlight falls beyond a thousand peaks, and the breeze carries the fragrance of a hundred flowers.

Part Four

Who in the human world knows the taste of the heavenly brew of immortality? I keep emerald jade nectar in a jade flask, sipping it now and then; my spirits revive, and I forget all weariness. I meet with friends beyond the world who share my aspirations, and together we enjoy fire dates and pear-shaped immortals’ fruit. After witnessing the vicissitudes of the sea turning to dust again and again, when the day comes to return to the Three Mountains—the legendary islands of the immortals—we will walk hand in hand among the clouds and rosy mists.

Part Five

I laugh at myself for always loving to argue and show off my cleverness, though words are never true cultivation. Had I known this sooner, I would have brushed the dust from the tip of my tongue. Keep silent, as though sealing the mouth with three strips of tape, and you can rise above disputes over right and wrong. Set aside every demonic obstacle and hardship, and in stillness your spirit will feel at peace. The breeze and bright moon will naturally draw near. Cut off the habitual tendencies accumulated over many lifetimes, and you can realize your original nature.

Part Six

Keep silent about the distinction between self and others and disputes over right and wrong, and you can pass beyond the crossing of contention. Set aside every demonic obstacle and hardship, and in stillness your spirit will feel at peace. The breeze and bright moon will naturally draw near. Cut off the habitual tendencies accumulated over many lifetimes, and you can realize your original nature.

The disputes and quarrels between people, their mutual teasing, are like puppets in a puppet theater. Empty fame confuses the ears and eyes, yet people do not realize that it is all void from the start. They insist on dividing people into Hu and Han, painting and daubing, arguing back and forth. See through it: none of this is real, but passes over the face like a gust of wind. People face one another and do little more than echo each other’s words. One should not base one’s life on such things. What one truly must take responsibility for is being one’s own master: governing one’s own body and mind.

Spring That Lasts Ten Thousand Years

In a dream I came to Huaxu, the legendary realm of perfection, as though I were in palaces suspended in midair, far removed from the world. A faint, secluded fragrance drifted by, while clouds and rosy mists curled like strands of silk. In the boundless spiritual expanse, divine light shone brightly, as if night could never fall. Who could understand such a realm? Let me tell you: its springtime goes on without end, never growing old even after all the ages of eternity.

The Second

Life and death change without mercy, turning ceaselessly through past and present, calm as flowing water. One should quickly take precautions and make plans for one’s future. That glimmer of inborn nature has been there from the beginning and has never left. It is wondrous beyond measure; if you can cultivate it into a true Dao body, your life can endure as long as Heaven and Earth.

The Third

Penglai, the legendary mountain of immortals amid a sea of clouds, with forests like jasper and trees like precious jade, is the true abode of the immortals. Multicolored luan birds and golden phoenixes fly back and forth, welcoming one another. I tell people of the world about this, but they do not believe me; they say it cannot be. It is only that worldly attachments are too deep and endlessly tangled. What people strive after is no more than a dream beneath the scholar tree—a metaphor for worldly wealth and status as a dream.

The Fisherman’s Pride

Cast off the bonds of worldly attachments and set down every concern; body and mind will then feel light and free. Sever worldly entanglements completely, cease longing for life in the world, and there will be no need to seek others’ approval. The small measure of true nature that everyone possesses can, from the start, remain at peace. Everywhere, people are merely chasing a dream beneath the scholar tree.

The Fisherman’s Pride

Cast off the bonds of worldly attachments and set down every concern; body and mind will then feel light and free. Sever worldly entanglements completely, cease longing for life in the world, and there will be no need to seek others’ approval. The small measure of true nature that everyone possesses can, from the start, remain at peace. Wherever one may be, one need only seek true freedom. Who could take it and trade it away, or sell it to someone else? This is no matter of idle spirits or ghosts, nor does it interfere with anything. Why, then, arrange offerings of fruit and burn incense to worship them?

The Second

With empty hands, one seems foolish yet somehow understanding; the world’s splendor is seen as a dream. Living this way, the heart instead becomes open and still, no longer burdened by worldly affairs. When guests arrive, I make no special effort to welcome or see them off. I am indifferent to matters of passion; who could keep me company? I love quiet leisure and seek no one’s respect. After reading the True Classic of Southern Florescence, the Daoist honorific title for the Zhuangzi, I feel there is no need to cling to outward usefulness. Do not try to coax me with such things again. Now that I am old, I fear all the more being tossed about at will by worldly affairs.

Gratitude to the Emperor

Firewood is passed from one piece to the next: when one stick burns out, another catches fire. Flowers and leaves cling together, intertwined. Yet people swallow delusion clouded by turbidity and pretend to conjure spirits. On the stage, people take turns appearing, their faces daubed with ash and clay. Right and wrong, fame and gain, entangle this fleeting life with its births and deaths…

The rattan beats by itself, testing those five plots on the trellis. The sound fades, the line breaks; neither has anything to rely on, and so it is in the end. Those things that tower high and stand out do not know who is driving them.

The Second

The pearls of Hepu have yet to be recovered; all that remains is the fruitless labor of dredging the Red River. What can anxious hearts and narrow minds accomplish? Even if one bends down and reaches out, earnestly trying to save the drowning, the flood surges on, and all struggle to sink beneath its waters. Scheming for achievement beneath the locust tree, taking delight in dreams on a pillow—tell such things of profound truth, and they seem bland and lifeless. Do not release the wooden geese; let the three elders return and drink their fill. Before the clear waters, there is no need to use clouds and rosy hues as enticing bait.

The Third

We have never left our original source, though we change ceaselessly with the currents. How could we rely on words to pass it on—and who would have time for that? Settle the mind and keep to your proper place; in daily life, truth and falsehood become clear of themselves. Why toil to seek strange realms of infantlike wonder outside yourself? The four directions are open and unobstructed; from the start, there has been no mind-altar that needs polishing clean. From ancient times to the present, people have argued endlessly about this. Leaning against a parasol tree with a bamboo staff in hand, treat it all as idle talk. The pearl that symbolizes an inexhaustible treasure—who could put a price on it?

The Fourth

Do not deliberately pursue anything; live according to circumstances. The desire to become an immortal is too strong. Deep within the auspicious clouds, barrier after barrier is broken through at once. Who can understand that the true realm has always been within oneself? Before the journey on the wind has even begun, the distinction between self and things is already forgotten. Compared with the ordinary world, this realm feels far lighter. Playing a stringless zither and appreciating a soundless tune is no better than strolling at ease and sitting in stillness. One only hopes a kindred spirit will appear, to join the wind among the pines.

The Fifth

Plum blossoms in the clouds reach toward Yingzhou, the legendary island of immortals in the sea; the great Peng spreads its wings and flies far away, toward a boundless future. Only after shedding the mortal body can one set foot in the immortal realm. The affairs of immortals, in the shadowy depths of the Purple Mansion and Cinnabar Terrace—the Daoist palace of immortals and place of alchemical work—are obscure and difficult to fathom. Even when explained clearly, they are hard for people to grasp.

Cloud-plum blossoms connect to the immortal realm across the sea, and the journey there stretches far and wide. Only by shedding one’s mortal body can one reach the place where the middle-ranking immortals dwell. The Purple Palace and Cinnabar Terrace, the fabled Daoist palace and site of alchemical practice, lie deep and hidden, difficult to find. Even if someone points them out clearly, ordinary people can scarcely grasp what they see. In the fields of medicinal herbs and numinous mushrooms, immortal plants grow lushly, their fragrance drifting over the ground, yet no one knows who tends them. In the grotto-heavens and blessed lands where immortals dwell, there is no night. Beneath the moon, people recite poetry, their forms faint and elusive. When you meet someone who understands, then pass on this wondrous treasure.

Six

Purity and innocence are people’s original nature, yet layer upon layer of worldly affairs stains them. The ties of ordinary human life are like a net, and people compete to curry favor and flatter. The sea of suffering stretches without end, its waves surging; yet those who ride the tides do not avoid its storms and dangers. Only by reaching the farther shore can one return to one’s original home and examine oneself anew. Since ancient times, those who have abandoned their nature and sunk into the world have brought this upon themselves. Brush away every stray thought and stain, one by one, and that first glimmer of pristine truth will still shine through. Then the light of the night-bright pearl will fill the grotto, and the rosy clouds will draw back.

Seven

With a single thought straying from the True and Constant, the eternal, unchanging true nature, one sinks into the sea of suffering and drifts through the Six Destinies of rebirth, carried along by passion and love. The body confines the mind and spirit like a prison; bewildered and turned upside down by external things, when will one truly be free? In the world, people are especially quick to become greedy. They die and are reborn, passing through a thousand forms and turning endlessly in the cycle of rebirth; they must endure it all. In the brief span of a human life, one’s form may suddenly change, beyond prediction. I urge you to break free early and depart; do not wait until death is near to regret it.

Eight

Moving lightly through the countryside like a bird, one pushes open the door and sets down one’s staff. Nie Que and Zhi Li, legendary hermits of antiquity, are not there to keep him company. Those who butcher oxen and tend horses merely copy what they see, imitating others by following the same pattern. On the path of cultivation, sages and worthies know how to proceed, while ordinary beings wander in confusion, unsure what to do. Knowing nothing, understanding nothing, where can they go? Kuang Qu, a legendary figure of antiquity, had just voiced the teaching when he forgot it again. All the forms that appear and all the actions deliberately undertaken are ultimately illusory. What one must truly understand and embody is the genuine, natural reality of one’s original self.

Nine

The immortal realm lies beyond the world, far from dust, like a garden in a pot-heaven, a Daoist fabled grotto paradise. Cloud shadows drift and unfurl freely beneath the quiet, empty eaves. Cool moonlight spills down, illuminating the blooming jade blossoms. Golden dulou, an aromatic incense, gives off a strange fragrance that reaches into distant, hidden places. The immortals gather like exiled celestial beings, setting out a feast of peaches from the Peaches of Immortality, filling their cups with rosy-cloud wine, urging one another to drink and singing aloud. Their words fall like pearls and jade, while marvels of flying phoenixes and coiling dragons add to the revelry. They point toward Penglai and Yingzhou, the fabled immortal islands across the sea, and speak with easy laughter of refined and mysterious matters.

Heaven and Earth are like a thatched hut whose rooms are joined together; the human body merely lodges there for a time. Time passes in the blink of an eye, astonishingly fast. All around us and within our hearts are obscure attachments and delusive thoughts. People toil from dawn to dusk, yet seem trapped together in a prison.

Only by seeing through worldly circumstances can we become masters of ourselves within them. Between one bow and one glance, the human world has already passed from the present into the distant past. How can we be content to trade our freedom for a little fame and profit, shackled by reputation and driven by possessions? Better to seek out mountain forests, springs, and rocks, and roam at ease, keeping company with the clouds and rosy mists.

No. 10

Only after experiencing the world and seeing through its many entanglements does one begin to seek a simple, natural way of life. In the end, all our striving is no more than illusion. Those who care only for eating and staying alive are like sacks for holding food or breathing skins; their petty tricks are shameful to display. Once awakened from the dream and opening clear eyes, one can let go of attachment to the myriad affairs of the world.