《启真集》

The preface to the Qizhen ji by Tongxuanzi of Mount Jinfeng (Daoist name Tongxuanzi) says:

To discern the changes of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—one must rely on markers in order to tell them apart; to comprehend the subtle and the mysterious and to penetrate the great Dao (the Way), one must likewise rely on words in order to awaken. Yet words are only the shadow of what the mind recognizes, and written characters are only the shadow of words. Thoughts are images of the mind, and speech is the echo of the mind; none of them possesses an independent, unchanging substance. Even so, by means of words one may still inquire into the principles of things. Once one no longer clings to exquisite subtlety and hidden depth, once every bias has been entirely cleared away, and one reaches a state in which nothing remains that can be grasped, of what use are words?

If principle cannot be expressed in words, it is like fishing without a creel, so that the fish cannot be caught, or like catching a rabbit without a snare, so that the rabbit cannot be taken. Generally speaking, words are like the creel that catches fish and the snare that catches rabbits: they suffice to elucidate the great Dao and to guide cultivation of the way of the immortals, and therefore they cannot be lightly cast aside. The sages accordingly composed the Yinfu jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) and the Daode jing (Scripture of the Dao and De, Virtue/Power), setting forth the essential meaning of the mysterious root. Worthies, following the sages in writing books, produced the Chongxu jing (Scripture of Empty Vacuity) and the Nanhua jing (Scripture of the Southern Flower), and with care inspired later students, enabling them to pass from the ordinary into sagehood and to transcend the mundane world. If one must rely on words, how can one refrain from writing books and establishing a teaching?

What is more, in recent times the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) teaching has divided into five lineages, each expounding the doctrine from a different aspect. Qiu and Liu wrote the Panxi ji (Panxi Collection) and the Xianle ji (Collection of Immortal Music); Tan and Ma wrote the Jinyu ji (Collection of Gold and Jade) and the Shuiyun ji (Collection of Water and Clouds). None of these works fails to promote the mysterious Dao and to manifest wisdom. Like the bright moon in a frosty sky reflected in a thousand pools, they allow those who love the Dao to savor their essential meaning with care, to understand the direction of cultivation, and to avoid straying onto a wrong path. Is this not precisely to understand principle by means of words? Thereafter, one who followed dragon and phoenix, elucidated the great Dao and transmitted teachings and precepts, rescued people from hardship, and pointed the way for those who had lost the path—Master Tongxuan was precisely such a person.

Master Liu, surnamed Liu and named Zhiyuan, was a native of Gaolou Ward in Xici. Benevolent and intelligent from birth, he admired the traditions of the Daoist school even in childhood, and he also studied the Mahayana scriptures in depth.

After coming of age, he lived at a time when Daoism was flourishing and the teachings of the various schools were in mutual exchange. He met Chaoranzi, received his transmission, and grasped the aims of nourishing true nature and preserving plain simplicity, together with discerning one’s inherent nature, recognizing the original mind, and according with Wuwei (non-action). He therefore set aside what the world treasures and took up the principles the world casts away. With firm resolve he turned toward Chongxuan—the Daoist path of interpreting “mystery upon mystery”—and entered the gate of all wonders. At the first reception of instruction, he contemplated emptiness, stillness, and purity from many levels; when he returned to Chaoranzi’s teaching, he could bring it into a single understanding and penetrate it without obstruction. Though he many times manifested a transformation body, he remained throughout joined to the one course of life and death. His heaven-given acuity and the subtle principles of the mysterious had long been held fast in his heart.

His everyday speech, writings, and calligraphy were like pearls and jade strung together. They were not produced by chiseling phrases or showing off literary skill, but lay beyond the gathering of ornate diction and deliberate embellishment, and may be called a guide for those who truly cultivate and study. Huang Dabishou once wrote a preface for him. Every verse he sang and every line he set down was aimed at awakening the unenlightened and correcting what had been heard unclearly, so that others might benefit—not merely for the sake of cultivating himself alone.

Before his writings had spread widely, he passed away. Liu Zhiyuan had repeatedly investigated such matters of cultivation as Xintong and advancing to break through the Niwan, and he left writings including Formless Ascent and Entry, yet for a time these works were little known. His disciple Li Zhiquan of Pingshui, fearing that the texts would in time be lost, traveled through the regions of Jin and Bing, collected portions that friends could recite from memory, and obtained the greater part from copies transcribed by Liu Zhijian. He then gathered the surviving drafts, compiled them into one collection, arranged them by doctrinal principle into three volumes, and entitled the work Qizhen.

Li Zhiquan brought the manuscript to me for collation and asked me again and again to write a preface, hoping it might be block-printed and handed down. Reading it over and over, I found its sense clear and its marvels abundant; it can lead a person forward along a dim path into a realm of brightness and purity. Had the wisdom in his heart not been luminous and clear, surpassing the constraints of the ordinary world, how could he have written to such a point? Although I am numbered within the transmission of the Daoist school, my own grasp of the Dao (the Way) is only roughly approximate. My learning is slight and my wording clumsy, and I truly dare not make a poor showing before a master of renown. Unable to decline, I can only, in plain words, set down a little of Master Liu’s talent and bearing.

Recorded at the head of the scroll on the twenty-second day, in the last ten days of the month of Zhonglü (the fourth month of the lunar calendar), in the jiachen year. Inscribed by Dong Shiyan, the elder of Fengyuan, of Jinzhong Ward in Tongyang.

The upper volume of the Qizhen Ji is only a very small part of the learning and the model of cultivation of Tongxuanzi of Jinfeng Mountain. It was noted at the head of the volume on the twenty-second day, in the last ten days of the Zhonglü month (the fifth month of the lunar calendar), of the Jiachen year, and inscribed by Elder Dong Shiyan of Fengyuan, Jinzhong Village, Tongyang.

The upper volume of the Qizhen Ji was composed by Liu Zhiyuan, Tongxuanzi of Jinfeng Mountain.

Seven-Character Quatrains

Answering Wang Anren’s Question on Daily Practice

The breathing is long, continuous, and faint, almost inaudible, turning as a fan turns; the breath runs through along the Jade Path (the channel of cultivation within the body) and disperses a dry heat that reaches to the bone. At the Kun crown (the site of cultivation at the top of the head) one refines and nourishes with a fire-timing like sunlight, transforming it into Jade Liquid (the Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) spoken of in cultivation); when the work is profound, after the count of nine times nine, one can regulate the increase and decrease of the fire-timing.

Following Wang Yongzhang in Singing of Wine

There is no need to rely on the rich fragrance of wine and ferment; the Golden Nectar brewed in one’s own house (a figure for the sweet inner feeling gained through cultivation) has a flavor that lasts longer. Without meaning to indulge in wine, one remains drunk all day; in a hazy trance, the Shen (spirit) wanders in an immortal realm where there is no night.

Matching the Rhyme of Qi Ziming

Shake off the troubles of the dusty world and gladly dwell in the place of cultivating the Dao (the Way); holding clear wind and bright moon in the heart, it is as if one had returned to the homeland of former days. A single pot of spring light reflects a clear and lucid realm; people and the myriad things are unhurried and at ease, and each forgets the distinctions between them.

Following the Rhyme of Fan Qingshu

Deep among mountain forests and springs, it seems that immortal households dwell; one often finds a spare moment to cultivate the moonlight (moonlight borrowed as a metaphor for cultivation). Loving the Silver River when its winds are calm and its waves still, one mounts the rose-cloud pinions (the wings of the immortals) and drifts upon it in the numinous raft (a wondrous wooden raft).

Written When Great Master Zhao of the Eastern Stream Offered Tea

In a jade cup, spirit water is blended with numinous cinnabar (symbolic names used in Daoist cultivation); skillful hands brew the tea, and foam like auspicious snow rises on its surface. In former days Lu Tong (a Tang-dynasty poet who loved tea) once tasted the subtle flavor in tea; only now do I thoroughly comprehend the Yellow Sprout (a term of Neidan (internal alchemy), often used as a metaphor for the vitality, or the elixir, obtained through cultivation).

Qinchang’s Humble Hut

I neither hurry to the court and the noisy marketplace nor deliberately rush into the deep mountains; I only love a poor and plain dwelling, at ease all day. The night moon and the dawn wind are my intimate friends; the rank and fame of the powerful and eminent I do not seek to attach myself to.

Another

A secluded dwelling has pleasures of its own; one does not seek ease and enjoyment, but faces alone the scenery between the misty vapors and the blue sky. Now standing, now walking, one settles into stillness and casts aside worldly stray thoughts; singing and dancing, one shows a smiling face again and again.

Given to Mister Li

When fine lines are heard at the ear, one must know that cultivation still requires real effort; relying only on talk of the mouth and tongue, it is hard to achieve anything great. Master the fire-timing according to the proper time, refine through the count of seven times seven, and make body and mind fuse into one; the effect is enough to astonish.

Matching the Rhyme of Jianxuan

The quiet studio window is bright as a mirror, its radiance seeming to surpass the moon palace; it shines through and breaks open the myriad things of the dusty world, so that one sees that everything in the end returns to empty stillness.

When it manifests in response to things, it is nowhere entangled by external objects; light courses through within and without, and body and mind become wholly one, perfectly fused.

Another poem

The secluded rooms and verandas are like a pure, bright mirror (referring to a lucid state of mind); everything merges into a single whole, so that even flesh and blood, and ghosts and spirits, are astonished by it.

Matching the rhymes of “The Mirror Veranda”

In the quiet veranda a radiance like a bright mirror shines, surpassing the clear glow of the moon palace; it illumines and breaks through the tangled myriad affairs of the dusty world, so that one sees that all things are empty.

When it manifests in response to things, it is nowhere entangled by external objects; light courses through within and without, and body and mind become wholly one, perfectly fused.

Another poem

The secluded rooms and verandas are like a pure, bright mirror that, from ancient times, has never let people of the world come to polish it.

Its light holds the myriad forms and can respond to things at any moment; in responding to external things there is no partiality, nor is it detained by anything.

On the Brush

The handle is firm, the body light and deft, the tip sharp as a needle; the moment one lifts the brush and dips it in ink, it sweeps along and writes, as if scarcely able to restrain itself.

Though the branches have long since grown and the trunk died long ago, enduring through a thousand ages, it still dips thick ink and sets down black characters.

The Sunset Veranda of Yongzhen Hermitage

Above the level, far-reaching woods, the evening sun hangs in a clear dusk; its rays enter the cloud veranda, so bright that one cannot open one’s eyes.

Within this radiance I have already returned to a golden realm of the immortals, and not a single grain of worldly dust still clings about my heart.

Bamboo of the Valley Spirit Hermitage

Yunting, with skillful craft, planted tall, slender bamboo; its nodes are firm and strong, its heart hollow, untouched by worldly dust.

It stands proud against wind and snow, unafraid of bitter cold, its bearing unlike that of ordinary things; evergreen through the four seasons, it long retains a vitality like spring.

Leaving Home without Awakening

Having cut away worldly attachments and resolutely sought the Dao (the Way) of transcending the world, one instead stays busy without cease from morning till night.

One only boasts of being able to till a great expanse of fields, yet lets that single inch of spiritual field for cultivating the Dao within the heart lie waste.

Bamboo of the Valley Spirit Hermitage

Yunting, with skillful craft, planted tall, slender bamboo; its nodes are firm and strong, its heart hollow, untouched by worldly dust.

It stands proud against wind and snow, unafraid of bitter cold, its bearing unlike that of ordinary things; evergreen through the four seasons, it long retains a vitality like spring.

Leaving Home without Awakening

Having cut away worldly attachments and resolutely sought the Dao of transcending the world, one instead stays busy without cease from morning till night.

One only boasts of being able to till a great expanse of fields, yet lets that single inch of spiritual field for cultivating the Dao within the heart lie waste.

Stating What Is in the Heart

A draught of longevity has been brewed that can intoxicate in a moment; blissfully drunk, one seems to enter the realm of the immortals.

On waking, body and mind seem bathed in a realm without birth or extinction, and one suddenly feels the belly filled with golden radiance and fragrance.

Viewing the Moon at Mid-Autumn

The full moon’s image shines with dazzling clarity, so that the chill seems to disperse; moonlight floods the golden sky, and the dharma-realm (the world in which all things and the practitioner together abide) appears boundlessly vast.

I have already seen the true realm of perfect light; there is no need to raise a finger again to point at the moon.

Resting at the Pine Veranda

In straw sandals, leaning on a bamboo staff, I rest in a thatched hut; sitting facing the pine veranda, my state of mind seems empty, vast, and without limit.

The wind has stilled, the mist is clear and cold, the sky broad and open; in a daze I feel I have returned to the realm of Huaxu of old (the legendary ideal land of peace and joy).

Hearing the Qin at the Pine Veranda (listening to the qin at the pine veranda)

Especially Unbinding Worldly Cares at the Pine Pavilion

I come expressly to the pine pavilion to lay aside the vexations of the dusty world and, leaning on a bamboo staff, rest in the thatched hut. Seated before the pine pavilion, I seem to see boundless emptiness open out before my eyes.

The wind has ceased; the mist is cool and clear, and heaven and earth stretch vast and wide. In the quiet gathering of Shen (spirit), I feel dimly that I have returned to the Huaxu realm of a dream from long ago (the legendary ideal world of peace and harmony).

Hearing the Qin at the Pine Pavilion

I come expressly to the pine pavilion, set down worldly cares, burn a stick of agarwood incense, and play three pieces on the yaoqin (the ancient zither). Wind passes through the bamboo grove with a rustling sound that interweaves with the qin; one need not go to the mist-shrouded immortal isles to hear celestial music such as this.

Following Caiqing’s Rhyme

Beyond heaven there seems to be yet another heaven, holding within it a power vast without bounds that moves and transforms all things. It is wholly one with the Great Void (boundless emptiness), without any fixed form or appearance, yet it can manifest in the ten directions (the four sides, the four corners, and above and below—referring broadly to every place) as the perfectly integrated and complete body of the Dao (the Way).

Admonishing the Assembly

The Dao embraces heaven and earth together with the Three Heavens (the levels of the celestial realms as spoken of in Daoism). Do not cling to taking “no-mind” as what accords with the natural. Only by employing mind and spirit and according with the proper moment can one bring to fulfillment the vigorous and perfect embodiment of Qian; then the bright pearl within one’s nature will appear full and complete.

The Moon of Nature

Thin clouds cannot cover the clear, cold sky. The moon of nature (symbolizing the luminous clarity of innate nature) hangs high in the heavens, bright and pure. It can manifest throughout the Three Realms and the ten directions, just as moonlight shines upon a thousand pools and reflects its perfect radiance in all of them at once.

The Waters of Jin

The waters of the land of Jin are clear and piercingly cold, undaunted by severe cold; the hot springs, however, seethe with heat, as if boiling water were gushing forth clouds of vapor. From this one may understand that the ever-spring vitality which manifests on its own is not governed by the changes of Yin-Yang or by the power of nature’s creative transformations.

The Hermitage of Tailing

The solitary, secluded hermitage rests against cloud-wrapped mountains. Few people come before the gate; carriages and horses do not arrive, and green moss grows thick beside the door. After the Huangting Jing (an important Daoist scripture) has been read, the incense smoke disperses, leaving only the cool traces of the incense seal; keeping company with apes and deer, one peacefully enjoys a life of pure quiet and leisure.

Ascending the Great Tower

On ascending the high tower, one’s view suddenly opens wide, as if the vast reach of heaven and earth could all be gathered in the palm. All around is clear and far-reaching, with not a speck of dust to veil it, as if one’s unhurried body and mind were dwelling in the Guanghan Palace (the moon palace).

Viewing the Plum Blossoms

Bitter cold breaks and withers all things, yet the old plum in the garden still stands tall and upright. Its plain white blossoms fear no severe cold, opening one after another on the branches amid the snow.

Invited Together with Elder Yang Ren

Body and mind are like a fishing boat bound by nothing, moving with the waves through the world and roaming freely at will. When the mood arises, one sings; when weary, one sleeps at ease, letting the springs and autumns of the human world succeed one another as they will.

An Occasional Piece

Before the Cliff Where Appearances Are Extinguished, one realizes the pivot and wondrous functioning of the Dao; within the realm of non-arising, one nurtures the innate nature that is spontaneous and originally true.

The craftsman brings to completion a single exquisitely subtle essential body: when it disperses, it is wind; when it gathers, it is Shen (spirit).

Master Ren Er inquired about the work of daily cultivation:

Lead and mercury—terms of Neidan (internal alchemy), used figuratively for the Yin-Yang medicinal agents—are harmonized, increased, or diminished according to the hours, and fired and refined at the proper times. If there is the slightest error, the elixir cannot be completed.

If one understands that each day adds one luminous pearl, its light will envelop the whole of empty space, and the essential body of body and mind will become full, round, and lucid.

A matching-rhyme reply to Wu’s palace-examination poem, presented to Master Wang:

The thatched hut in the mountains is pure and free of dust, and the true work of cultivating the Dao (the Way) advances day by day.

A mind of idle stillness is untouched by outer things; clear and awakened, it is worthy to carry on the lofty purity of Xu You, the man who cast away the gourd.

Sudden Rain:

Black clouds surge up from the gate of heaven like thick ink flung abroad; thunder crashes, lightning streaks, and rain pours down in torrents.

Fierce as the downpour is, it gradually scatters with the wind; once it has washed the rivers and mountains, ten thousand li are at once fresh and clear.

Dwelling in the Mountains:

Content with honest poverty, one passes the days in a deep valley; apes and deer are one’s kindred spirits, and beyond the mountains there are no neighbors.

A single censer of sandalwood burns quietly, and there are no other cares; three paths lie before the brushwood gate, and the rivers and mountains before one’s eyes are washed clean, opening vast across ten thousand li.

Dwelling in the Mountains:

Content with honest poverty, one passes the days in a deep valley; apes and deer are one’s kindred spirits, and beyond the mountains there are no neighbors.

A single censer of sandalwood burns quietly, and there are no other cares; three paths lie before the brushwood gate, and spring remains in the heart.

Visiting a Recluse and Not Meeting Him:

One goes deep among mist and rose-tinted clouds to call upon an immortal, yet the search for the true recluse ends, alas, without a meeting.

The crane has borne the immortal lightly far away, and no trace of him can be found; only fallen blossoms lie in silence, vainly enclosing the spring of Wuling.

The Western Veranda of Yunxi Hermitage:

At evening the light of the setting sun enters the western veranda and illuminates everything before one’s eyes with perfect clarity.

This field of brightness lights the mind’s eye of one who cultivates the Dao; there is no need to seek elsewhere, for one’s own person already possesses the original Heaven.

Matching Han Ziyu on an Outing to the Eastern Mountain:

In wax-soled wooden clogs one climbs the eastern ridge with a light step, and at once body and mind feel cool and at ease.

One marvels that this firm and vigorous inherent nature is ever pure of itself; one who knows how to temper and refine oneself through the years can endure as long as Heaven and Earth.

Matching Bu Caiqing on a Visit to Jinfeng Abbey:

Jinfeng Abbey, the name of a Daoist abbey, stands facing a solitary peak, and people hold the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) deeply inscribed in their hearts.

Through this resonance, auspicious clouds often appear; the immortal palaces of Penglai seem to lie just before one’s eyes and are not hard to seek.

Again:

A grander matching poem on Bu Caiqing’s visit to Jinfeng Abbey:

Jinfeng Abbey stands facing a solitary peak, and people hold the Dao and De deeply inscribed in their hearts.

Through this resonance, auspicious clouds often appear; the immortal palaces of Penglai seem to lie just before one’s eyes and are not hard to seek.

Again:

Majestic and splendid, Jinfeng rises above the distant ranges, and the ancient cypress before the courtyard points straight to the edge of heaven.

It clearly indicates the meaning that came from the West—the mind-dharma that, as Chan Buddhism tells it, Bodhidharma transmitted from the West. Why, then, must one travel far to Caoxi to seek it?

Again.

Gazing on Bangjin Peak, one sees the summit join the green ridges, and the cool, clear, limpid scene enters straight into the heart.

How many people in the world spend their days rushing about in pursuit of fame and profit? And who is willing to spare a little leisure to come here and seek this place out?

Presented to Master Zhao

Master Zhao lives in seclusion at the quiet mouth of Qingxi, and year after year he rests only on a plain couch and a rush cushion, sitting in stillness without sleep.

He wishes to refine a single elixir of the Mysterious Palace, a medicine in the cultivation of Neidan (internal alchemy), and for this he must rely on the medicinal cauldron and on long, sustained skill in regulating the fire. “Three thousand firings” means that the nurturing work requires continuous and precise control of the fire; it does not refer simply to three thousand days.

Feng Zhongxiang Asks about Cultivation

Cultivation should not cling to outward appearances and written words, nor should one go looking for it along side doors and crooked paths.

One must recognize the state in which Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) meet within emptiness. Only when one can obtain “being” from “non-being” is the cultivation genuine.

Again

Sitting dried up, with the heart turned to ashes, only wears the body down to no purpose; cultivating blindly and practicing at random only wastes the spirit in vain.

One must understand the root source of the medicinal materials, and then understand how the fire is to be regulated and nourished, before true accomplishment can be cultivated.

Again, on Asking about the Light of Heaven

Deliberate action is not right, and abandoning oneself to Wuwei (non-action) is not right either; clinging to guarded concentration and to visualization is likewise not the correct method.

The working symbolized by the lead furnace and the mercury cauldron arises from an inner creative transformation. After Jing (essence) and Qi have congealed and the spirit has been gathered into singleness, the inner light appears.

Again

The dragon contends with the hun-soul, and the lungs contend with the po-soul; the crow battles primordial Jing, and the rabbit battles Shen. “Dragon” and “crow” are commonly used to symbolize yang forces, and “hun” and “Jing” are likewise terms in Neidan cultivation.

When the harmonizing work of the soil of emptiness has brought these forces together, one then holds the light within, cultivates in silence, and accords with the innate original reality.

Lü Hezhi Asks about Cultivation

At the start of cultivation, yin Qi must be made to recede. If yin Qi is not removed, every kind of disturbance will seize the opening and enter.

If one still does not know the true message at work in this, one must grasp it firmly and go on gathering it in, and must not let it scatter and be lost.

Asking about the Golden Elixir

The Golden Elixir is a taking of “being” from within “non-being.” Do not, merely because it arises from “non-being,” cling only to emptiness.

Emptiness is true emptiness, emptiness carried to its very limit. When one has realized emptiness and then lets go even of the idea of emptiness, one can reach a fully rounded state.

Again, on Asking about the Method of the Elixir

Stability belongs to water, and wisdom belongs to fire; the mind is true mercury, and the body is lead. All of these are ways, in Neidan cultivation, of likening the workings of body and mind to water and fire, lead and mercury.

Once the work has been applied for a period of time, it can congeal into an elixir. After ten months of nurturing and refining, a “sacred embryo” is formed—a figure, in Neidan cultivation, for the fruit of practice—and one may become a superior immortal.

Master Qiao Requests a Eulogy for the Banner of Lonely Souls

The soul-summoning banner of yellow clouds streams from the head of the staff, leading the shades up into the blue void.

After the ritual master intones and enacts the jade tones, the sacred sounds of Daoist Keyi (liturgy), the karmic obstructions in the passes of the netherworld disperse, and the lonely souls depart with the wind.

Yang Gong of Piyuan Requests a Hymn

Skillfully pare away the dull, stubborn outer rind, and do not let dust settle on the face that turns upward. Only after the craftsman’s carving does it attain a quality pure as ice and frost, and it is not cut and fashioned in the same way as things that reek of fish and flesh.

Abbot Wang’s Farewell, Requesting a Verse

When I arrived it was the height of summer, and the pomegranate blossoms opened like fire; after I departed it was already deep autumn, and the chrysanthemums bloomed in proud defiance of the frost. My mind is leisurely and at ease, as though far beyond the misty waters. The others silently guard a nature pure as ice and frost, not mingling with worldly custom, and in the end are able to hold fast to the True and Constant.

Lantern Festival Night

On the night of the Lantern Festival, the lamps of the Ao Mountain burn bright as golden lotuses. Through the streets and lanes of the capital, towers and terraces stand joined together, and the music of pipes and strings is extraordinarily lively. Before the eyes, lights like pearls and jade flicker in great number, adorning a world that stays awake all through the night.

Asking the Woodpecker

There is a numinous bird that pecks for food among the trees. Its claws are strong and its pointed beak is sharp, and it swiftly puts its skill to work. It does not peck wood to fill its hunger because food is lacking; rather, it can rid the tall woods of wood-boring insects.

A Warning on Learning the Qin

One who cultivates the Dao (the Way) should seize the time and treasure every moment. If one is busy only with tuning a wooden qin of silk strings, the effort of mind is spent in vain. Every person already possesses within a melody without strings; why pursue nothing but the sounds drawn out by the fingers? The “melody without strings” takes the sound of the qin as a metaphor, pointing toward an inner principle and an inner understanding.

A Warning on Playing Go

Speaking together through a game of go, a single move stirs idle thoughts. Each watches the state of the board and contends for the chance of victory among the black and white stones. If one can understand that black and white are not fundamentally two different things, then one need not be frightened when facing the road of life and death.

Elder Liu Asks: A Difference Fine as a Hair, and the Elixir Is Not Made

Ten months of work are divided in all into thirty thousand ke. Whether walking, staying, or sitting, one must apply oneself in a continuous, unbroken way. The work of a single ke equals the seasonal count of a whole year; reckoned in this manner, one may seize from Heaven’s timing a lifespan of thirty thousand years. Here the days and firing times of elixir refining are used as a comparison, stressing that cultivation must be sustained and precise.

Again

The Three Wonders must be properly employed at every ke, and they must be harmonized throughout all thirty thousand ke. If an error appears in even a single ke, the medicinal materials will be depleted; by what means, then, is the Golden Elixir (Jindan) to be formed?

Elder Xu Asks about the Method and Measure of Cultivation

Water and fire are harmonized to a proper degree, neither harshly dry nor excessive. Mercury and lead, after being cooked and refined, are received into the Dantai (the inner place used in refining the elixir). As the days pass they gradually condense, so that the primordial essence and the bodily form join to become the sacred embryo.

Asking Again about the Mysterious Frost

Gather the Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) of the two orbs, the sun and the moon, and seize a single point of Yang Qi (the Yang of Yin-Yang) from between heaven and earth. Set the work in motion according to the hours and the firing times, so that lead and mercury return into the elixir cauldron; then cook them with water and refine them with fire, until they condense into Mysterious Frost (the substance condensed in the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy)).

Li Daokuan asked about cultivation. True Qi is stored in the body, and Jing and Qi are stored in the heart. Cook and refine these two together, and the spiritual nature can be brought to completion. If one can endure the trials in full, hold firm to one’s resolve, and pass through hundreds of thousands of kalpas, clear and bright awakening can still be brought forth.

On subduing lead and mercury. Lead and mercury easily fly apart when they meet fire, so one must use the “nameless uncarved block” (the unworked state of return to plain simplicity) to hold them fast. Lead enters the Kun palace (the position symbolizing Yin), and mercury enters the Qian palace (the position symbolizing Yang). Harmonize water and fire, and the elixir will not go astray.

Elder Zuo asked where cultivation finally comes to rest. Forget the body and nurture Qi; Qi is the root. Forget Qi and nurture Shen (spirit); Shen can nurture the True. Shen, too, must then be forgotten: return to empty stillness and nurture it. Nurturing empty stillness until one accords with the Dao (the Way) is where cultivation finally comes to rest.

At the outset: the Dao and abiding in emptiness. The Dao is not far away; it is people who are far from the Dao. If a person can discern the Dao and put it into practice, the Dao will in turn become manifest in that person. One must know that what is gained in the mind cannot be mere blank nothingness, without any function; true emptiness is not a state in which there is nothing at all.

Further. Keep turbulent thoughts far from every net of doubt. When mindfulness continues unbroken from one moment to the next, many profound and wondrous gateways can be opened. See through false causes and conditions and cling to no form, and the mirror of the mind will be bright and clear, no longer dim.

Further. The images stirred by the six dusts of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind are not the true mind-nature. To cut everything off and cling to empty brightness is also to seek outside. To recognize the true body of reality that does not fall into emptiness, one must first understand that one true mind.

Li Miaozhen asked about the oneness of empty space. What lies before awareness and what lies after awareness are both unreal. Dissolve these distinctions in the present moment, and one can realize the fundamental substance as all-pervading and freely interfused. The mind is silent and without thought, resting at ease; then it suddenly opens into clarity, as if one were standing amid vast empty space.

An admonition to the assembly on dreams. A dream within a dream is a twofold falsity; a shadow beyond a shadow is a third falsity. Deluded thoughts arise in turn according to causes and conditions, and the mind that grasps outwardly always obscures the true mind.

Further. All conditioned things are like dreams and illusions, and many thoughts that arise from outward grasping are like resentful demons. What is born of causes and conditions has no real fundamental substance. Within the fundamental substance that is not extinguished in the present, a dream is still a twofold falsity, and a shadow beyond a shadow is a third falsity.

Attachment to all manner of conditions and thoughts gives rise, turn upon turn, to delusion; thoughts that arise from conditions invariably obscure the original true mind.

It is further said:

All conditioned phenomena—things that arise, change, and pass away through conditions and deliberate action—are like dreams and illusions. The many thoughts that entangle the mind and spirit are like resentment and demonic hindrances.

The substance born of causes and conditions is not truly real; yet since, in this very moment, it has not disappeared, what can one do about it?

It is further said:

A dream is an empty, illusory appearance, and the body too is like a dream. Thought after thought strives after the realm of emptiness, and this pursuit is itself equally delusive.

To take, throughout a whole life, what is experienced in a dream as one and the same “self” is to cling to a “self” even within “no-self.” Emptiness has not truly been emptied.

How does one transcend the workings of creation?

The teeming transformations of creation can all be transcended and left behind. Only with a vast breadth of mind, standing aloof and independent, is this possible.

Hold firmly to the power of luminous awareness and illuminating insight, and never forget it. Abide in the pure and unitary realm of the true, without deviation and without lapse.

The sun and moon course with great swiftness—how is this to be understood?

The swift movement of the sun and moon contains a subtle mechanism of function. The golden crow—the divine bird of ancient legend that symbolizes the sun—bearing a blood-red radiance, flies across a deep pool.

One should settle steadily upon the cassia of the Toad Palace—the palace said in legend to stand upon the moon, often used to refer to the moon itself—and gradually cook and refine, until the flesh is nurtured to the whiteness of snow. These lines borrow the images of the sun and moon, the golden crow, the Toad Palace, and alchemical refining to describe the process of inner cultivation.

Continuation: Miaojing asks how to stop thoughts

The moment a thought arises, one must perceive it at once and stop it in time. Do not let the thought have already been stirring for a long while before awareness comes belatedly.

If awareness is swift, the stopping of thought can also be swift, and the subtle realm of the Dao (the Way) may then soon appear.

In the Snow

Halfway up the mountain, a narrow winding path twists and coils. Woods and ridges are veiled by accumulated snow, and the cold presses close.

Leaning on the railing and gazing as far as the eye can reach, after climbing high to look out, one suddenly feels that heaven and earth are as vast as the realm within a pot.

Leisurely Dwelling at West Stream

Outside the gate the stream sounds clear and crisp, like jade striking jade, and carries a chill. This sound enters the heart and brings a calm ease.

Waking from the dream of Huaxu—a dream of ancient legend that symbolizes untroubled ease—one finds no stray affairs left in the mind. A bowl of pine tea and a censer of sandalwood are enough for contentment.

A Seven-Character Regulated Verse: The Thatched Pavilion of Yongzhen

In the Daoist cloister a recluse has raised a thatched pavilion, making its windows of earthen walls and wild grass. Spared the labor of schemes and plans, the mind rests in calm ease.

The bright moon invites one to linger and adds to the pleasure of leisure; a clear wind blows in and draws forth the expansive joy of life in the open wilds.

Auspicious clouds densely screen the clean path; in fair weather the mountain mist lies low and is reflected in the bright curtains.

At times monkeys and immortal cranes come to visit, as if remarking that a lofty hall is not necessarily more tranquil than this place.

Presented to a Recluse of the Western Mountains

The recluse by nature rejects worldly fame and profit, loves mist, rosy clouds, and mountain waters, and delights in living in the open wilds.

Feeding on acorns and sesame, he is content to pass his days; keeping company with the medicine furnace and scrolls of scripture (Jing), he takes such a life as his joy.

At dawn one views the clouds above the mountain market as they clear after rain; at night one listens among the pines as gibbons cry long toward the moon.

All things, in the end, pass away. Only the “One True Dharma Realm” (the realm of pure unity and true reality, beyond all distinctions) appears by itself, standing out as extraordinary.

Not of the Multitude

Original nature is pure, empty, and luminous. The six Qi (vital energy)—Yin, Yang, wind, rain, darkness, light, and the like, the energies by which heaven and earth proceed—are in harmony. No wind or waves arise, and the river of Chan meditation is without disturbance. In daily life one broadly accumulates “yellow sprouts” (a term of Neidan (internal alchemy), referring to the subtle Qi generated in refining and nourishing); in practice one stores “white snow” (a Neidan term, often indicating Jing (essence) and Qi condensed in purity). In a pure sanctuary one willingly passes through the cycles of transformation, and in the realm of light one alone applies the mind to the work. Now all one’s dependents take emptiness as their fundamental substance, and every effort of practice returns to fulfillment.

Further

One realizes that the Great Dao (the Way) continues without end, and there is no need to toil at artificial contrivance. The mind is open and expansive, rising beyond the clamor of the worldly dust. The radiance of the two orbs shines, and the nine heavens are bright; over the Three Isles (the legendary immortal mountains of the sea) the wind rises and circles, and the tides of the four seas surge. The feelings and thoughts born of the six kinds of false discrimination all fall apart, and the four laws of receiving retribution according to karma melt away like ice. The mind is empty and bright, attached to nothing, like empty space; original nature is crystalline and thoroughly transparent, enduring through all ages, transcendent beyond things.

Upper Volume of the Qizhen Ji

Middle Volume of the Qizhen Ji

Composed by Liu Zhiyuan, Tongxuanzi of Jinfeng Mountain

Man Ting Fang (Courtyard Full of Fragrance)

A single idle, quiet mind drifts everywhere like a solitary cloud, unattached to any causes or conditions. From the pool of the nine heavens a numinous spring surges forth, watering the auspicious herbs of the yellow sprouts, tokens of good fortune; pure Qi rises, and radiance enfolds the golden lotus. The true tidings of the Great Dao are like a clear wind blowing over all the land, penetrating body and mind, continuing without end.

All realms merge into the true fundamental substance. It appears with lofty bearing, standing alone and relying on nothing, and laughs in free pride among the realms of Chan. Though Yin-Yang shift and change, and though kalpic fortunes scorch and try it, they cannot harm it. From of old it has endured and is never destroyed. Holding to the True One, one sets the Dharma Realm at peace. It is without arising or ceasing: a wondrous substance, pure and brilliantly clear, like a bright moon in ten thousand li of cloudless sky.

The second: presented to Hou Botong, in praise of his mastery of calculation

Gifted by nature with many talents and many arts, he is especially skilled at reckoning through length and breadth, able to measure the height of heaven and the depth of earth. He knows the numerical principles of the courses of sun and moon, and can also use addition and subtraction to distinguish fullness from waning.

Heaven endows people with many talents. They can exercise their abilities in every walk of life, and they can also reckon the height of Heaven and the depth of Earth. They can deduce the numerical principles of the sun and moon in their courses and distinguish the changes of waxing and waning; they can discern the breadth of the mountains and estimate the depth of the rivers and seas. Within Heaven, Earth, and the four directions, the differences among all kinds of people can be seen in the finest detail.

Open the ground of the mind into a path leading inward, seek the pure purport of the Dao (the Way), and take nine as the standard. Settle the Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) within the body, discern their changes, and inquire into the order of their movement upward and downward. When the accumulation reaches the number three thousand and the divisor is reckoned, the merit of eight hundred is then complete. Riding this mysterious method of the One Vehicle, even if one plucks it forth, nothing of the true principle is left out.

Third Poem: A Warning to Those Sunk in the Secular World

You arrange your robes and caps as you please and falsely claim purity and stillness, yet you give free rein to your thoughts, which are as hard to restrain as a poor horse and a monkey. Caught in fame and profit, you bustle in vain through the human world. Day after day you drift with the current, and you have never let your luminous original nature grow clear and quiet even for a moment. It is truly cause for regret: outwardly you seem idle and at ease, yet in fact you have betrayed the first resolve of yearning for the wondrous great Dao.

You would do well to search your own hearts: do you fear that time will pass in vain, until the hair at your temples is like snow and white locks hang to your shoulders? You should restrain passion and desire and gather in distracting thoughts, planting the seed of wisdom in the field of the mind. Recognize the primordial luminous awareness, and constantly cultivate the great Dao and accumulate De (Virtue/Power). After three trials, both bodily form and Shen (spirit) may tend toward the mysterious, free and clear, and the way of ascent in flight may be realized.

Prelude to the Water Melody

What the world calls the purport of non-birth is the meeting of sun and moon and the harmony of Yin-Yang. Yang Qi rises aloft and displays the image of the “flying crow,” while Yin Qi perches upon the numinous tree beyond Li. Numinous and refined Qi nurtures a precious elixir; auspicious light shines upon the silver moon and clearly reveals the immortal maiden within it. The immortals gather for a banquet at the Jade Pool and are often drunk amid the golden waves of wine.

The two powers dwell together in one palace. Through seven changes of the firing times they are refined into the gold of nine reversions. The body of long life is thereby achieved and abides in the pure great Dao, transcendent in Wuwei (non-action). Gathering and scattering are deep and unfathomable—who has appointed them? Going out and coming in, passing to and fro, one remains lucid and awake, and all of it lies in oneself. The mysterious principle is in truth not manifold: in the end, one need only use the thought within the square inch of the mind, and the whole Dharma-realm is contained therein.

The Great River Flows East

What is most precious in human life is to be endowed with the true Qi (vital energy) of the Five Phases (Wuxing)—the Qi of the five basic elements that constitute all things—and thus to possess a spiritual nature from birth. A person’s head, hands, feet, and body are shaped in the likeness of heaven and earth, yet they are still molded and nurtured by the Qi of Yin-Yang. Spring flowers and the autumn moon, yesterday and today, carry away one’s youthful looks in the turn of an eye. The road ahead is thick with dangers and obstacles; when that time comes, one is often at a loss, not knowing what to do with hands or feet.

On careful reflection, apart from one’s own person, wealth and high station, splendid dress and ample emolument—“light furs and purple robes,” a figure for riches and glory—are nothing more than idle things outside the body. One should set aside completely the stray thoughts in the mind and, in clarity and stillness, harmonize dragon and tiger (in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy, a symbolic expression for the interplay within the body of Yin-Yang, Jing, or essence, Qi, and the like). A numinous treasure is thereby gestated, so that heavenly light appears from within the heart and becomes a treasury in which a luminous pearl is stored. In the end one merges with the vast and open realm, walks alone in transcendence, and one’s steps are as if treading the clouds and riding the rosy mists.

The Second

The fine jade of Mount Jing, carved by the artisan, is fashioned into a vessel, and the forms of heaven and earth are thereby made plain. The two apertures—the inner passes of cultivation—are opened, so that sun and moon stand distinct; the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the Nine Palaces (a Daoist system for symbolizing cosmic change and spatial orientation) appear all together. The mind’s intent settles within the square inch of the heart. One grasps the essentials of circulation and transformation, so that Yi Wood and Metal come to love one another—terms of the Five Phases symbolizing the harmonization of Yin-Yang within the body. Those who cultivate in quiet seclusion thereby come to grasp the interest of this, and then follow the Dao (the Way) of Heaven symbolized by the Qian trigram to set change in motion.

The primal Jing (Yuanjing, the essential Qi at the source of life) rises, falls, and turns, ever so slightly. Only in the cultivation of the present moment does it secretly stir changes like thunder and lightning. Along the paths already laid down it circles again and again, and little by little interweaves and darts about like scattered silver threads. The fragrance is rich, and the savor fills the body; the practitioner then sees the pure body. Radiance flies and dances like snow, and only then does one recognize its original face.

The Third

The initial stage of cultivation is a state of chaos. The inner mechanism—the key that drives transformation—turns without cease. The single Qi within Kan (the Kan trigram symbolizes Water, and also the primal Qi latent in cultivation) stirs in secret. The swirling Qi—the essential Qi that spreads and flows—rises from depths as if from underground, becomes massed clouds, and displays auspicious signs. Thunder and lightning then come on together; Yin-Yang meet and join, and turn into fine threads of rain. It flies across the imperial river and becomes the divine water in the jade cauldron.

The divine water continues through nine transformations and condenses into a golden substance. It is then gathered into the Li position—the Li trigram symbolizes Fire, and also the corresponding site in Neidan cultivation—to be refined, and is transmuted into a body of pure Yang. Wondrous transformation frees itself from the constraints of bodily form and manifests endless subtle efficacy, as if heaven and earth were held in one’s grasp. Deeply calm and steady, yet freely soaring, one responds and transforms in every place, open and bound by nothing. At last all fuses into one, and in a sudden moment one transcends birth and death.

The Fourth

The teaching of Tianyuan (the Heavenly Origin; a method that transforms people through the primordial principle of the Heavenly Dao) is flourishing and widely renowned, like golden lotuses opening in full bloom. Scholars, commoners, and officials all revere and practice it, and cultivators open their minds through it. Those who awaken to the Dao (the Way) are cool, serene, and at ease, while those who turn away from the Great Dao are consumed by vexation. Many people expound and make plain the true secrets. Everyone should look closely: once this principle is made clear, it illuminates past and present alike, bright as the moon of the mind. Understanding that all phenomena are originally empty, one gives rise to no delusive thoughts, and vexation is dispelled in that very moment. What one sees is real and free of attachment, and every discriminating thought should come to rest. All myriad appearances return to the one mind; before the eyes only solitary awareness remains, still, complete, and lucid. It is so pure that nothing can be touched, merging with the Great Void as one body, without distinction.

Shuilongyin (Water Dragon Chant)

People rush about on the path of officialdom, their hearts clinging to rank. When will the business of the government offices ever be finished? Even with the skill to shoot down suns, even with a glorious name, what of it? What benefit is there now? Do not say only that merit and fame have been achieved. Better to withdraw early and hurry to find the road to seclusion. Read the writings of the ancients, like savoring the lingering taste of old wine; open your heart, drift in a boat upon the lake, and enjoy true delight.

Shuilongyin (Water Dragon Chant)

Quick of understanding yet at leisure, free like clouds and water. Roam without restraint, serene and unburdened. The heart is broad and open, nourishing Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) without being tied down by any attachment. Nature and life (xing and ming) accord with one another. The true original face is revealed, merging as one with the three times: past, present, and future. Behold this resolute, steadfast method of cultivation: it cuts off worldly ties as decisively as slicing through nails and iron.

Second Poem: Presented to Li Yuanfa

An unbroken thread of Qi bursts through the passes and apertures, and the nurturing Qi moves through all the vessels of the body. Gathered in the Qian cauldron (the place in inner refining that symbolizes the Qian, pure Yang, Qi), it forms the scene of the dragon and tiger meeting, bringing nature and emotions into harmony. Jing (essence) and Qi are transformed and sublimated, and through the seven returns and nine reversions (stages in Neidan, or internal alchemy, in which essence and Qi are repeatedly refined) the work is complete without flaw. When the Great Medicine (an Neidan term for the refined essence gained through cultivation) is formed, one can penetrate to Shen and manifest its function; fragrance and flavor seem to pervade the whole body. The elixir's light shines radiant, and from the Spirit Terrace (Lingtai, the dwelling place of the heart-spirit) a single point of snow-white brightness shines forth. The mind is ever clear and pure, lacking nothing, complete and lucid. The true mind appears like the moon, its light illuminating the cosmos without a speck of dust. The Dharma-form (the manifestation of the Dao) standing tall in the Great Void holds the wonder of non-arising and endures for ten thousand kalpas.

Third Poem: Presented to Yang Daokuan

The renowned master painter of samadhi portrayed the archaic, unadorned form of Xuanyuan (the Profound Origin, the source of the Dao, or the Way). With bright gold he painted upon a pure white ground, and the image is solemn and sublime, revealing the original true countenance. Reverently enshrined in the treasure hall, it subdues all directions, and even hosts of demons tremble at the sight. The teachings of the scriptures are proclaimed openly, the pure and upright Daoist ethos flourishes, transforming the world and turning the multitudes toward the Way.

Part Three: Presented to Yang Daokuan

The renowned master painter of samadhi portrayed the archaic, unadorned form of Xuanyuan. With gold upon a plain ground, the image is solemn and sublime, revealing the original true countenance. Reverently enshrined in the treasure hall, it subdues all directions and makes the hosts of demons tremble. The teachings of the scriptures are spread openly, the pure and upright Daoist ethos flourishes, transforming the people and leading all to return to the true Way.

Outwardly one should keep a dignified bearing that inspires reverence; inwardly the mind must be clear and bright, never stirred by external things. Grasp one subtle skill, and one can practice Wuwei (non-action), letting form appear within the formless, meeting every change without obstruction. Embrace the ten directions, open up a profound realm of depth and breadth, and unite as a single point with the great void. Take emptiness and non-being as the path of cultivation, and vast spiritual powers will be achieved.

Part Four

The leisured person delights in the pleasures of the zither and books, and, like Master Hu, tends a medicine pouch, draws talismans, and prepares talisman water. One must suddenly see through these things: if they serve only to seek fame and praise, or to offer reckless explanations, they will hinder true cultivation. The entanglements piled up like those before a withered tree and a cliff must all be cast aside, and every affinity that does not accord with the Way abandoned. Brush away what obscures, let the original nature shine forth like the bright moon, ever awake and unclouded; forget attachment to spirit and breath, and nourish a mind and body that are empty and still.

Refine a true wisdom that is not empty, and in the great void you can transform marvelous instruments of the Dao. When body and mind are pure and clear, the realm is broad and unobstructed, untouched by the slightest dust. Perfect awakening pervades past, present, and future, complete in solemn splendor, with the Dharma body and pure wisdom fully realized. Suchness is manifest and clearly seen; one dwells in what is true and constant, and fully realizes the principle of non-arising.

Slow Sheng Sheng Melody

Living in seclusion behind a simple gate, one nurtures the vast, flowing Qi (vital energy); one treasures jade without displaying its brilliance, diligently guards simplicity, and forgets scheming. In one's hands it seems the heavens and earth are held, and the body and mind give rise to and sustain the transformations of all things. Qi circulates daily through the three Dantian (energy centers: upper, middle, and lower), turning a single channel of breath that flows around and around without cease. It regulates the whole body and its hundred bones, showing an inner nourishment like jade nectar that quenches thirst and jade fluid that stills hunger.

After washing and refining, the wondrous substance of the Primordial Shen (spirit) appears, in harmony with the realm of perfection, clear and peaceful in both movement and stillness. It neither perishes nor is born, and the nature of the realm of emptiness is without flaw. Eminently awake, it stands alone and unsupported; transcendent within stillness and void, it abides in the true state of Wuwei. From this one enjoys the genuine delight of the Dao, spreads the wind of De (Virtue) far and wide, and raises high the guiding principles of the Way.

The opening of the "Mysterious Pass" (Xuanguan) is like the watchman's clapper striking the hour. The practitioner embraces and guards the "One," never letting it scatter, and understands the "white" yet holds to the "black," thereby storing and nourishing the key mechanism. Circulating the heart-fire together with clear, harmonious Qi, the practitioner lets the breath pass gently through the Three Passes, as though crossing the great sea. Jing (essence) and Qi transform into bodily fluids, which condense downward into the Four Images and become True Mercury, then moisten the Flower Pond. After the work has passed through nine revolutions, one attains a body as firm as gold, and the Spirit Chamber (Shen chamber, the central palace of the body in internal cultivation) shines with radiance. The true face of perfect luminosity appears, as if the human world and heaven were fused into one, with wondrous transformations.

It is neither real nor void, and no dust or defilement can stain it or leave a flaw. The practitioner focuses solely on empty, still contemplation and realizes that nothing has ever bound them. By using the marvel of true emptiness, one reveals a realm of spiritual clarity, free and unobstructed, and raises aloft the sword of wisdom.

Third Poem: Presented to Wang Yanbao

Dissolve the distinction between self and others, let the mind be as cold and clear as ice, and cease to weigh high against low. Awaken yourself and see plainly the rights and wrongs of today and of yesterday. Only by examining your inner spiritual nature do you realize how you have wasted ten thousand kalpas in delusion. Now that you have met the true wind spreading widely, you should enter the courtyard where immortals are selected and have your name entered on the register. Having made clear your single-minded devotion to the Dao (the Way), you dare to cast aside the bonds of kinship as though discarding straw sandals, and to look lightly on rich food and wealth. Seek the subtle savor among the mists and rosy clouds, cut off every attachment and illusory thought, and rest in Wuwei (non-action). Guard the one true nature, contemplate it thoroughly, and keep watch with utmost care. Abide in the wondrous substance of primordial emptiness and stillness, let the spiritual light appear, and let it accompany you in every coming and going. Once the road ahead is clear, you can ascend steadily to the shore of awakening and set foot upon the stairway of the immortals.

Ascending to the Cinnabar Sky

The pure Yang Qi arises and returns to the Gui position (an internal alchemy term for where Yin water resides), and the breath grows deep. Yin-Yang is born at the center of the Crescent Moon (a part of the body in internal practice, shaped like a curved moon). Dragon and Tiger change form and unite at the right moment, with no need to capture them by force. When the three merge into one, the Yellow Sprout (an internal alchemy term for the newly born true Qi) grows and matures, and its fragrance fills the Qian Steamer (a symbolic vessel of cultivation; the note "音寻，鼎也" indicates that 甑 is read as "xún" and refers to the cauldron). Nature is like a pearl, the mind like the moon, the embrace like jade, and the body like gold. Manifest the pure Yang Qi and cut off every last strand of Yin turbidity. The original true realm appears and vanishes in response to stimulus, and even ghosts and spirits bow in reverence. Its vastness equals the Great Void, clear and free of dust, transcending past and present.

A Branch of Flowers

Qizhen Ji (Collection on Awakening the True)

In a heaven and earth as clear as a jade pot, golden radiance shines together with the sun and moon. The immortal youth takes cultivation as his daily practice, and in his heart he longs for the bearing of the immortals and the perfected. He seeks through mountains, rivers, and the sources of water, going each day to the southwest to gather herbs, then drawing what he has gathered back into the “Jade Sea” (Bihai, a name in Neidan (internal alchemy) for a particular part of the body, or for the Dantian (energy center)). From this begins the congealing of the “Golden Crystal” (Jinjing, the refined essence formed in Neidan when Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) are smelted and refined). Through nine transformations it returns to the root and reverts to the origin, firm and imperishable. The fragrance of cultivation suffuses the whole body like a mist, and light wells up from within, bright and vast. The true original form of long life appears in purity, standing above external things. Even while dwelling in the world of sound and sight, one can remain awake and clear-sighted; whether moving or still, the mind and Shen (spirit) do not grow dim. The myriad things return to a single whole. Day after day one gathers herbs toward the southwest and draws them back into the Jade Sea. The Golden Crystal is formed; through nine transformations it reverts to the origin; fragrance suffuses the body; light wells forth; the fundamental body of long life appears and transcends external things. Amid sound and sight one remains awake, and between movement and stillness awareness is not lost. This fundamental body contains the myriad things and runs through past and present; whether they gather or disperse, there is neither clinging nor obstruction.

“A Sprig of Plum Blossoms” (Yijian Mei) and the Good Friend Zhang Sanlao

Spring departs and autumn comes, and the hair at the temples gradually turns white. As the sun and moon revolve, the countenance of youth fades away with them. The depletion of the Qi of lead and the dwindling of the Qi of mercury symbolize the gradual decline of the Jing and Qi that cultivation requires, and the inner “sea source” will also run dry. When the fluids that are like jade nectar are exhausted, the Jing and Qi that are like golden orchid will likewise waste and fail. One ought to nurture well the “Three Origins” (Sanyuan, the three kinds of original Qi spoken of in cultivation) and close the “Five Passes” (Wuguan, five gateways of the body or of cultivation). In this way one can rise on high, vying in splendor with the sun and moon, the light shining upon Ao Mountain (Aoshan, the immortal mountain where, in legend, gods and immortals dwell). The precious elixir is brought to full perfection, cool, clear, and pure as frost. All that lies before the eyes can be contemplated just as it is, and one dwells beyond the world, at leisure and at ease.

“Strolling with Incense” (Xingxiangzi): Society Head Li Asks about the Dao (the Way)

The great Dao has no form; people only force a name upon it. It distinguishes and harmonizes the five Qi (the five kinds of Qi that constitute the myriad things), and it governs the coming-into-being and the transformations of all things. It penetrates heaven and earth, the four directions, above and below, and embraces the multitude of living beings. Of itself it has no feeling, no scent, and no sound. If a person awakens to the great Dao, one should cultivate diligently and realize the principle that the workings of creation return to non-birth; one should make the thoughts of the mind plain and detached, and enter a realm that is deep and still, elusive and indistinct, of Wuwei (non-action). The great Dao is neither empty nothingness nor solid being, and its subtle fundamental body is present everywhere. This is the Dao of true constancy, running through past and present, alone awake and clear-sighted.

The Second

Earnestly seeking the wondrous Dao (the Way), one finds joy in it even to the point of forgetting sorrow, and sets down the mind that chases empty fame and petty gain. The six faculties no longer cling to outer objects; one single-mindedly harmonizes the one Qi (vital energy) within the body and makes it soft and yielding. In cultivation the timing of the fire is not impaired, nor is the timing of the water lacking; following the oral formula, one masters the shifts of “adding” and “withdrawing” in the fire. As practice deepens, the hundred channels flow freely and the movement of Qi circulates through the whole body; the elixir gradually congeals, and a pure, clear radiance appears. The wondrous body of emptiness meets no obstruction and rests nowhere; responding to things as conditions arise, bound to no single quarter, it illumines the myriad beings, and everywhere the marvelous working of the Dao is revealed.

The Third: Asking about the Gateway of Cultivation

The substance of the Dao is ordinary and without marvel; one who is as if blind will hardly find the path of practice. If one only seeks boundaries and clings to methods and results, one loses the way. Craving to wander side doors and strange paths, one instead forgets the proper course. All are warned to look toward what is high and to recognize the principle of “non-arising”—the Dao that neither arises nor perishes. The mind within is clear and still, continually nourishing lucid, wakeful awareness; Heaven’s Gate and Earth’s Door are shut fast—this, in internal refinement, is the way of gathering Jing (essence) and Qi so that they do not scatter. Yang Qi rises along a secluded path and passes beyond the Divine Capital; through layer upon layer of passes and apertures it returns to the realm of empty stillness, and at last Neidan (internal alchemy) is formed.

The Fourth

If the false is taken for the true, affliction gathers in the breast; distinctions arise with outer conditions, and the mind grows hurried and confused. One should draw every circumstance back into the mind and settle the mind. The traces of delusion are cleared away, and one understands that the nature of all phenomena is empty. Contemplating the root principle of emptiness, one comprehends the true emptiness that yet functions; the dharma of the mind is made plain, so that even ordinary movements embody a clear grasp of emptiness. Atop the summit of Kunlun one leaps freely through the void. Returning to empty stillness, there is nothing that can be touched, yet all things are contained and everything is thoroughly interfused.

To the Tune “Jiangshenzi”

Within Metal the nature of Wood is stored, and within Wood the nature of Metal is likewise stored; their original substance is hard to find. Refined by fire, as if steamed in a steamer, Metal and Wood are brought to meet; mastering the changes of fire timing signified by Geng and Jia, one regulates the rising and descending of Yin-Yang. Returning to the root and restoring the origin, true nature appears; the hun and po gather, and the stagnant qi of Yin is cleared away. Pure Yang Qi gradually arrives; at the ear it is as if a qin were sounding, clear notes flowing on. The numinous, luminous true nature is called forth, surpassing past and present. It pervades heaven and earth and fills the void; nowhere is not the Dao. What stands forth clearly is precisely this true mind and nature.

The Second: A Recluse of the Western Mountains Comes to Visit

Those with affinity meet—as rare as a mustard seed entering the eye of a needle. They speak together of the true mind and pass beyond the three turbid qi of Yin. Yang Qi of itself turns into a fluid; sweet jade nectar wells forth from time to time. As they drink in company, a clear, ringing sound enters the ear; though there seem to be no strings, the sound of the qin pervades heaven and earth and fills the void, present everywhere. What stands forth clearly is precisely this true mind and nature.

When people of destined affinity meet, it is as rare as casting a mustard seed into the eye of a needle. They speak together of the true heart, and even the Three Yin (a way of referring to yin Qi, vital energy) pass away. Yang Qi naturally turns into a thick liquid, and the jade liquor (a metaphor for the refined essence condensed in cultivation) is poured out from time to time. Drinking in one another’s company, a clear, soaring sound enters the ear; there are no strings, yet a melody like that of an organ is played. A dense, swelling breath and its subtle intimations fill the breast. The Golden Elixir (Jindan) is refined to nine-tenths, and even ghosts and spirits submit in reverence. The light of heaven fuses into one, and the body after transformation is hard to find. It seems empty nothing, yet within emptiness wondrous being can be accomplished; the mind is bright, and stray thoughts grow still.

The Third

A single river surges through nine bends, and within it the tiger and the dragon meet. The heart-mind is bold and strong, and the breath is blended into harmony. The movement of Qi turns through Kunlun (a technical term of Daoist Neidan, internal alchemy, often indicating the head or an important site within the body) and shakes heaven and earth like a thunderclap. Glittering golden sand gushes forth; a clear appearance of light is shown, then mingles with the void. The Dharma-body (the pure body realized by the cultivator) is faint and elusive, and mind-nature is vast. Change is endless, and the bodily form leaves no trace. One answers each circumstance as it comes while always keeping stillness, and within the Dharma-realm (the realm in which all things dwell) a perfect, unobstructed harmony appears. The myriad realms are gathered into the one mind; emptiness and form fuse into one, with no distinction, in accord with the true Dao (the Way).

The Fourth

In the past, clinging to cleverness and talent only damaged body and mind; one sought the subtle workings of the mysterious, yet did not hold to humility. The years were long, and resolve gradually faltered. Proper measure weakened, like a horse out of control whose reins have fallen away; faced with circumstances as tangled as windblown flowers, one galloped wherever one pleased. Giving oneself over to familiar pleasures, one felt a private ease, envied towers, terraces, and garden pools, and chased after light furs and fat horses. The Qi of gentle harmony was thereby scattered, and the road to the immortal Dao grew as distant as clouds from mud. Now that power which holds heaven and earth together is put forth once more, the true creative transformation is sought, and a numinous, wondrous bearing is nourished and grown.

The Fifth: Admiring Chrysanthemums

In the mountains the cold gradually deepens, and the leaves take on a pale yellow. The Qi of autumn is stern and killing; dew congeals into frost. The myriad things return to the root, and the breath that moves in reverse brings desolation. Only the yellow chrysanthemums beside the eastern hedge open in bloom, their color cool, clear, and vivid, breathing out a pure fragrance. A perfected true appearance is plainly revealed in the season of the Double Ninth; arising at the center, it gives off a golden light. The chrysanthemum fully discloses its original reality, and its numinous, marvelous bearing is full and bright. In the moment of facing it, one suddenly recognizes it altogether; the moon of the mind shines, and both awareness and outer form are forgotten.

The Sixth: With Xiao Li, the Late Daizhao

Worldly affairs and social custom cling to the human heart as fast as glue and lacquer, and the mind of the Dao (the Way) grows distant because of this. The spiritual terrace (the place where mind and Shen [spirit] reside) is obscured, as if covered over with dust. Faced with disasters towering like mountains, people are not afraid; instead they exhaust themselves in frantic toil, as if gnawing bones and hurrying along the road. This precious body before their eyes is something they now do not know how to cherish. If the years are simply allowed to pass, then after tens of millions of kalpas it too will become something decayed and worn out.

One must be skilled at gathering in the lead (a term of Neidan [internal alchemy], referring to the Jing [essence] and Qi [vital energy] of cultivation) and settling it upon the Wudu steps (an important pass or stage in Neidan practice), planting the medicinal sprout and forming the spirit embryo (the inner elixir gestated in cultivation). After the work of the nine transmutations is complete, the pistil-pearl within the square inch of the heart (a metaphor for the inner elixir formed in the heart) will open. The body and mind thus refined, together with the body of pure clarity and light, are now hidden and now manifest; following whatever appears before the eyes, every place is like the immortal realm of Penglai.

One must settle the Qi of lead upon the Wudu steps, plant the medicinal sprout, and form the spirit embryo. After the work of the nine transmutations is complete, the pistil-pearl in the heart will open. The pure, clear, and luminous form of body and mind appears at any time, and whatever meets the eye is everywhere like the immortal realm of Penglai.

To the tune of Jiangmei Yin, presented to Li Yuanfa

If one is not shaken by honor or disgrace, there is no sorrow in the heart. One passes spring and autumn in peace, roaming free and at ease. Break the bonds within the heart, so that none of the myriad things can catch and cling there. Take the single mass of true Qi within the heaven and earth of the body as the work of cultivation; harmonize dragon and tiger (a Neidan term referring to the two Qi of Yin-Yang), and let them course within the body, day and night without cease.

Elixir-frost of purple and gold congeals, and it has an origin of its own. After the radiance has turned through three circuits, it is gathered in by the jade lad (in Daoism, a youth who attends upon the immortals). Dwelling in the clear and bright dharma-realm (in Buddhist and Daoist usage, the realm upon which all phenomena depend), one alone receives the beauty of wind and moon. When the wondrous elixir vessel is refined, it is enough to place one among the ranks of the immortals; entering the immortal court, one takes the first place.

The second, presented to Liu Huishou

For the sake of food and clothing, people toil in greedy pursuit, brows knit with worry, chasing profit and fame. Lost in worldly striving as low as mud, they treat themselves as mere utensils and let the ways of the world push them about. Even if they reach a treasure mountain where jewels lie everywhere underfoot, they may still return empty-handed. They only keep watch over the life before their eyes, sunk in the cycle of rebirth, and to the end they are unwilling to stop.

Better to turn the light around and shine it inward, and cultivate oneself. Gather in the mind-monkey and the will-horse (a metaphor for restless thoughts that are hard to control), and hold fast to mercury and lead (a Neidan term referring to the Yin-Yang Jing and Qi of cultivation). Move the fire in the elixir furnace, and according to the firing times carefully add and withdraw. Refine a treasure pure and single, round and luminous, so that its radiance shines through the whole cosmos, clean and without flaw, its worth beyond all measure.

To the tune of Mulanhua Ling

Between the two bowstrings lies hidden the creative transformation of the true Dao. Yin-Yang moves back and forth; Kan and Li (names among the Bagua [Eight Trigrams], often borrowed to indicate water and fire, or Yin-Yang) invert and join. Carefully master the firing times, adding or withdrawing the Qi of cultivation, and refine a treasure pure and single, round and luminous. Its radiance shines through the cosmos, clean and without flaw, its worth beyond all measure.

To the tune of Mulanhua Ling

Between the two bowstrings lies hidden the creative transformation of the true Dao. Yin-Yang moves back and forth; Kan and Li invert and join. With a single mass of true Qi, drive the circulation into the furnace, and a dragon-like furnace fire turns within it. Cook and refine according to the firing times, carefully adding or withdrawing, so that the medicinal sprout is not depleted. The elixir gives off a rich and rare fragrance, and the scent drifts with the wind; golden flowers open and form a perfected elixir treasure. The true realm of pure clarity and light is by no means easily brought to completion. Vast as empty space, it sends forth a great light that fuses and penetrates heaven and earth.

To the tune of Tasha Xing

In pure stillness and plain detachment, one sets aside artful, calculating thoughts and peacefully nourishes the simple, unadorned nature. The subtlety within this is hard for people to discern. In deep seclusion and profound quiet, one washes clean the consciousness of Shen (spirit), as if brushing the dust from a precious pearl; in dim thoughtlessness and silent, settled stillness, the bright moon within the heart appears. Through myriad kalpas, the clouds and mists that veil mind and nature disperse, and heaven and earth lie clear and wholly transparent. Speech is pure, and body and mind are clean as ice and snow. Neither increased nor diminished, the perfect nature manifests of itself; spirit and mind are lucid and free, transcending birth and death.

The Second

Whether in action or in quiet sitting, one sets aside artful, calculating thoughts and does not deliberately employ cleverness and talent. After awakening to the Dao (the Way), one can always diminish worldly passions and desires. The bright lamp in the heart is continually trimmed and never grows dim; the light of wisdom shines across a vast and boundless realm. Ever pure and clear, neither indulging nor clinging, one abides at ease in the realm of pure oneness and reality. There is neither the form of an ox nor the form of a person; standing transcendent and alone, one enjoys true joy.

The Third

A single lingshou staff (the staff a practitioner carries at hand) is as slender as the sinews of a crane. Light and crimson, it is prized by cultivators who live in seclusion. In walking, standing, sitting, and lying down it never leaves the body; in passing through clouds and crossing waters, meditative concentration ever accompanies it as well. It can lead one suddenly out of the ford of delusion and guide a slanting bypath back to the proper way; it supports one through danger, hardship, and steep peril, and opens through to the sacred realm of divine spirits. At the proper times one stirs and harmonizes the dragon and the tiger—in Neidan (internal alchemy), symbols of the two Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang—and with the tip of the staff lifts the sun and moon, so that heaven and earth become clear and bright.

Nankezi

The body is pure as empty space, and the mind is as peaceful as the great mountains of Qin and Hua. Every kind of conditioned worry and delusive thought has nothing to do with the heart. Abiding in right mindfulness, without thought and without care, one can be at leisure and at ease in every place. The mind-pearl in the sea of awakening is crystalline, and the moon of original nature in the realm of meditation is cool and bright. The perfect, luminous nature manifests. When released, it is left free to unfold; when gathered in, it returns to a single point, and between heaven and earth all opens suddenly into vast breadth.

The Second: Given to One Who Has Turned Away from the True Path

After long quiet, one again wishes to stir thought, and willingly sinks into the sea of passion and desire. The way of the immortals and the road of ordinary life differ as greatly as clouds and mud. From this point the two paths divide, and one no longer thinks of the stairs that lead to the heavenly realm.

Do not imitate the wren, a small bird of short ambition, busy only in craving a single little branch. May you have the breadth of the great kun of the Northern Darkness. In an instant it transforms into the great peng, ready to soar over the Lake of Heaven.

The Third: Zhang Daoyi Asks about the Yellow Sprout

When Yang Qi is aroused, Yin Qi transforms in response, and the yellow sprout—in Neidan cultivation, a symbol of true Qi arising and being nourished—gradually grows to fullness. Five leaves emerge unevenly in the Yellow Court, the region of the middle Dantian (energy center) indicated in Neidan practice within the human body. The pearl-like stamens open from the bud and put forth blossoms of purple-gold.

At the outset it condenses into granules of the divine elixir. Pure, clear light brings peace and stability to heaven and earth and calls the myriad things into life. Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) pass unhurriedly through the whole body, bright and glittering like strands of rosy glow. Within and without, all is luminous and distinct; the entire dharma-realm is one undivided whole, awake and lucid.

The Fourth

Whether sitting or lying down, mind and spirit must remain pure, quiet, and settled; the breathing continues without break, gentle and even. The nine Qi (the nine kinds of breath spoken of in cultivation) gather mildly in the eastern lead furnace (a Neidan, or internal alchemy, image that takes the body as a furnace for circulating and refining Jing, essence, and Qi). Breath flows and fills the body-field (the region within the body where Jing and Qi are cultivated), and day and night it is as if one were drinking jade nectar.

In the abdomen are the three elixirs (the three Dantian, energy centers, or elixir-Qi, spoken of in Neidan practice), yet the mind clings to nothing. Nourished in this way, the body grows strong and the mind accords with emptiness and stillness. Through movement and rest, going out and coming in, spiritual awareness remains clear throughout, revealing the true original aspect and returning to the primordial beginning.

Jinzan'er (Golden Cup)

Set cares aside; let the mind be at ease, taking delight among mountain forests and springs. With mountain sandalwood (sandalwood incense), warm the ambergris in the earthenware tripod. As the mood for wine gradually rises, smoke curls from the cold tea; feeling grows clear, harmonious, and full, and the abdomen rests easy and unobstructed. Roam in company with the deer, and keep company with the cries of apes.

Purify the source of spiritual nature, so that in the heart a lotus is born of fire. Cool, clear, and lucid, one illumines and dispels the stray thoughts of the dusty world. One comes to understand the five eyes (a term in Buddhist and Daoist scriptures for capacities of insight at different levels) and realizes entry into Chongxuan, the Twofold Mystery (the far-reaching, profound, and subtle realm of which Daoism speaks). Vermilion radiance shines upon the sea; the bright moon sinks into the abyss. The realm of full and perfect light responds and transforms without limit.

Jiepei Ling (Untying the Pendant): Lament for the Lamp-Moth

By its inborn nature the moth is deluded. Sunk in a realm of suffering, it craves only the flower-shadows within the candle flame. It flings itself into the fire at the risk of its life and, even when scorched, does not awaken. It mistakes the blazing firelight for the cool, gorgeous glow of drifting fireflies. With its whole heart it turns toward brightness, yet within it still clings to scenes of darkness; in the end it gains nothing and can only, in a fleeting moment, suffer death. If it could see through the danger of the firelight, it would not bring burning upon itself, nor lose its bodily form together with its nature and its life; thereby it would leave the torment of scorching heat and abide alone in a realm of cool clarity.

The Second

When the mind is pure and still, one nourishes the vast, flood-like Qi and is not disturbed by trifles as fine as stardust. Dwelling near woods and springs, carriages and horses do not come. Life is leisurely and quiet: let moss grow thick before the gate, and let the wind sweep away the fallen blossoms that fill the courtyard. When the crane cries, the dew-laden air is cool and crisp; where the ape calls, the moonlight is bright. Day after day one keeps company with pine flowers and immortal herbs.

One enjoys a life of Wuwei (non-action) and has never sought anything outside oneself. Realizing that the pearl within the robe (a metaphor for a treasure originally one’s own, yet never noticed) is right before one’s eyes, it is as if the immortal realm of Penglai were present in this very moment.

Langtaosha (Waves Washing the Sand)

Do not cling to outward forms and on that basis suppose that all is empty; if one remains in a rigid, inert void, that too is in vain.

Do not cling to the saying that “all things are empty,” or you will only remain stuck in a stubborn emptiness and stillness, toiling in vain and unable to see the emptiness within “being.” The myriad things melt wholly together in emptiness into a marvelous fundamental substance. This emptiness is not, in fact, a matter of there being nothing at all; this alone is the true “true emptiness.” One must see emptiness in every single thing. Though thoughts arise, one does not cling to them, nor argue over emptiness and non-emptiness. Understand this, and profound wisdom can arise from the empty realm before one’s eyes, until at last one comprehends perfect emptiness.

Wannian Chun

Listening quietly within the body, the fire dragon and the water tiger—metaphors, in the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy), for the Yin-Yang Qi (vital energy) inside the body—contend and resound with one another. The scene is most marvelous, like the unceasing sound of wind and waves circling the light of heaven. Through refinement and transformation, golden frost condenses—an image, in Neidan practice, of pure elixir Qi. The pot and cauldron, a metaphor for alchemy, drive the creative transformation of true Qi, until at last a treasure is refined and its radiance shines forth. The earth is bright, the sky clear; body and mind are pure, untroubled by dust.

The Second

Life is leisurely and at ease; day after day, wind and moon preside. Nothing weighs upon the heart. One listens in stillness to the cries of apes, as if they were speaking the principle of non-arising—the principle of not being bound by birth and extinction. The state of mind is cool, clear, and pure; not a trace of stray thought meets the eye, and the light is vast. Within and without, all shines bright, as if one were dwelling in the realm of emptiness.

The Third: Mid-Autumn

On an autumn night the moon is like silver, and the sky for ten thousand li is so clear it seems to have been washed. A gentle breeze brushes heaven and earth, rendering the four directions as lucid as ice and snow, without the slightest veil. The radiance of the stars and the Dipper gradually fades, and the full, luminous fundamental substance is wholly revealed. Beneath the white moonlight, Shen (spirit), in contemplation, seems to wander at leisure, and one climbs in person the green cassia—the cassia tree said in legend to stand in the moon palace.

Wuling Chun: A Warning against Clinging to the Teaching

People may sometimes awaken to a principle through words, but once they have awakened they must forget the words. It is like having already caught the fish: there is no need to go on clinging to the bamboo trap used to catch it. “Forgetting the trap once the fish is caught” is a metaphor for no longer clinging, after a principle has been grasped, to the words that express it. If one still grips the trap and will not let go, it is like vainly cracking the whip while hurrying along the road. Close the mouth and hide the tongue; do not rush to explain; in silence, inquire deeply into the profound principle. Attend wholly to regulating the breath and cultivating mind and Shen, and still the pull of delusive thoughts, like a cold moon shining upon the blue sky.

The Second: Wang Xiaoxian Asks about Chan

Abide in the one true mind of the dharma-realm—the whole in which all things exist together—and at that very moment every entanglement and stray thought can be cleared away. Light appears within and without, and heaven and earth seem no longer to exist. If in Chan practice one clings to outward forms, one instead grows distant from the nature of Chan; delusive thoughts entangle one, like the moon sinking into an abyss. Whether moving or still, remain clear and settled; the marvelous functioning is true Chan itself.

The Second: Wang Xiaoxian Asks about Chan

Abide in the one true mind of the dharma-realm—the whole in which all things exist together—and at that very moment every entanglement and stray thought can be cleared away. Light appears within and without, and heaven and earth seem no longer to exist. If in Chan practice one clings to outward forms, one instead grows distant from the nature of Chan; delusive thoughts entangle one, like the moon sinking into an abyss. Whether moving or still, remain clear and settled; the marvelous functioning is true Chan itself.

By relying on the practice of the “Seven Returns,” one causes the Qi (vital energy) of true Yin to descend. Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang) exchange the roles of host and guest, and the force becomes difficult to restrain. A realm of spiritual marvel, rising above the Three Realms, will before long appear, shining through past and present, reaching upward to Heaven and communicating downward with Earth. One abides in the present moment, with mind and thought settled and still; taking the immortal crane as one’s mount, one rides the clear wind, the heart utterly lucid and bright. Whether one faces south or north, there is no clinging or obstruction; at all times one enjoys true happiness, and freely gives voice to long whistling and chanted song.

Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) hold to the way of softness and yielding, yet their resolve must remain firm. The golden cauldron is filled with the elixir that prolongs life; in the jade furnace, incense that communicates with the True is often burned. Body and mind, and the state in which they dwell, are all cool, clear, and at peace. One penetrates the mysterious principle and alone abides in the realm of the sovereign of the methods and the Dao. Every kind of evil sprite and host of demons is destroyed; wielding ritual arts by the power of the “Three Yangs and Nine Qi,” one displays light and awesome dignity wherever one goes.

Another version:

Those involved in the dusty world, thought after thought, never forget their craving for enjoyment. The golden cauldron is filled with the elixir that prolongs life; in the jade furnace, incense that communicates with the True is often burned. Body and mind, and the state in which they dwell, are all cool, clear, and at peace. One penetrates the mysterious principle and alone abides in the realm of the sovereign of the methods and the Dao. Every kind of evil sprite and host of demons is destroyed; wielding ritual arts by the power of the “Three Yangs and Nine Qi,” one displays light and awesome dignity wherever one goes.

Another version:

Those involved in the dusty world, thought after thought, never forget their craving for enjoyment. The mind is restless like a monkey hung upon a wall, indulging itself at will; intention is like a poor horse running into the wind, toiling in vain. Familiar circumstances of the dusty world lead one into unrestrained indulgence, and also cause one to suffer bitterly. One willingly clings to states of suffering, the concerns of the heart tangled like a mass of hemp. How can this compare with cutting off distracting feelings and thoughts, settling the mind to cultivate the Great Dao, and enjoying freedom and delight? In this way one can leave the road of the cycle of birth and death.

Hold fast to the empty and mysterious Great Dao, with will firm and unwavering. From within emptiness the Qi of the Dao arises of itself; dense vapors mingle and condense to form the primordial embryo. A numinous essence is generated out of nothing, as though the sun and moon were conceived within it. At all times one drinks the immortal wine of Mount Kun, and lies intoxicated upon the Cinnabar Terrace—the realm of Neidan (internal alchemy) of which cultivators speak—having the stellar spirits of the Three Terraces receive and protect one. The clouds and mists of delusion accumulated through myriad kalpas, in a single morning, suddenly disperse.

Within the Kan palace—the position representing kidney-water and Yin Qi—a single point of Yang Qi is born. The two currents of breath converge, and the force of the wind rushes straight up to Heaven. At the summit of the Three Passes—the crucial apertures through which breath circulates in cultivation—abundant fluids are brought forth. The Four Images—the transformations of the Qi-dynamic of Yin-Yang and the like—congeal into true cinnabar and begin to transform. Five-colored rosy light rises within the elixir cauldron, resplendent in brilliance; the six spirits are peaceful and harmonious, and the breath is long and unbroken. The seven stars each fulfill their function and at last come to rest; all eight sides of the body are open and unobstructed, revealing a state of perfect roundness and crystalline clarity.

Worldly contention and calculation are not the correct Dao. Once one has seen through them, one no longer clings to them, as if casting shoes aside. Chronic ailments and vexations vast as cloud-covered mountains can also be removed. At the summit of the Three Passes, abundant fluids are brought forth. The Four Images congeal into true cinnabar and begin to transform. Five-colored rosy light rises within the elixir cauldron, resplendent in brilliance; the six spirits are peaceful and harmonious, and the breath is long and unbroken. The seven stars each fulfill their function and at last come to rest; all eight sides of the body are open and unobstructed, revealing a state of perfect roundness and crystalline clarity.

The quarrel of Man and Chu is not the true Dao (the Way). Once this is seen through, the mind lets go as one discards a pair of shoes and clings no longer. Even if the body suffers from an illness long uncured, one may dwell in seclusion among the clouded mountains, with apes and cranes for company, and pass the whole day in ease and freedom. Raising a pot of wine and delighting in the clear breeze and the bright moon, the realms of purity and luminous clarity reflect one another and penetrate without obstruction. Inner and outer alike return to emptiness; if one does not cling to the very thought of “emptiness,” one can move freely and without hindrance through every circumstance.

The Second

Forget clever contrivance and distracting thoughts and seek the mysterious and subtle, and one comes to understand in the heart that all phenomena are empty. The Dao is without bounds. Before the eyes there seems only a sheet of clear light, spreading into a vast sky of ten thousand miles. Body and mind, clear and bright in their original nature, allow neither a speck of dust nor a fly-shadow of stray thought to obscure them. Inner and outer fuse in perfect harmony, resting at ease in the utterly empty Dharma-realm (the vast realm in which all things coexist).

Changsi Xian

Taking Heaven and Earth as cauldron and furnace, one refines the female and the male, Yin-Yang. Yin Qi (vital energy) is transformed into pure Yang, and body and mind merge as one with the image of the void. Subtle forms extend in every direction and blend with one another. The wind rides me, and I ride the wind; wind and I bear one another, abiding within the Dharma-realm. There is no form, yet one does not fall into the blank nothingness of annihilation.

Ru Meng Ling

All phenomena appear ordinary in the mind. One regulates the breath and circulates Qi, gathering it in like a reclining moon, then sets the Qi of water and fire in motion. Washed and refined again and again, it condenses into a golden crystal; amid the turning of advance and retreat, it is round and luminous as a pearl. Cultivation attains its fruit; cultivation attains its fruit. In the end, wholly one with the void—that is myself.

End of the middle fascicle of the Qizhen ji.

Note: In the original, this lyric was mistakenly titled Lingshou Zhang (Staff of Numinous Longevity).

Lower fascicle of the Qizhen ji

Composed by Liu Zhiyuan, Tongxuanzi of Mount Jinfeng.

Chapter One: The True Mind

The Perfected Ziyang says: What is called the true mind is the root of the cultivation of nature and life, and is termed the “Lingshou Zhang” (here a Daoist technical term or a chapter title).

The Perfected Ziyang said that the true mind is the root of “nature” (xing), symbolizing the hun-soul of the sun, and is likewise the source of “life” (ming), symbolizing the po-soul of the moon. At the center of a person’s inner mind dwells the Valley Spirit, the seat that governs the whole body and the essential foundation for refining the Reverted Elixir and for entering upon the cultivation of the Dao (the Way). The Perfected Chunyang said that this is precisely “drinking the sea turtle.”

This is the place on which genuine cultivation must rely. If one does not refine the true here, it is as if one had no cauldron and furnace and nowhere to take refuge—like cooking without a vessel: however much effort one spends, little comes of it. The mind spoken of here is not the mental activity stirred by external sounds, forms, and the other six dusts, nor is it the heart of flesh within the body. It is a true mind that, though formless, responds with keen sensitivity—the place where Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) gather, and a mind that transcends physical form. To recognize this true mind is to see one’s nature.

The Perfected Ziyang said, “When the mind’s activity spreads too far, failure is inevitable; only when the mind’s activity is gathered and made single is success possible.” This is indeed so. If one can turn body and mind inward and abide in samādhi—the concentrated and stable state of meditative absorption—and, whether by day or by night, let spiritual intent be long sustained and undisturbed, then cultivation will cause the numinous nature to coalesce, the body to grow strong, and transformation to be without end.

The true mind is like a bright mirror: it can reflect the myriad things and yet remain still. It is also like candlelight, illuminating all things without being fixed on any one place. It can return to its source and is not detained by anything. Whether sitting, lying, standing, or walking, and amid speaking and silence, movement and stillness, one should be as steady as Mount Tai, as pure as empty space, vast and perfectly rounded, so that nothing can touch or disturb it and no dark place remains unillumined. Only then has one truly realized the true mind and put it to use.

Those who do not recognize this mind and cannot see their nature are cultivating blindly, or merely sitting in withered stillness until the mind is like dead ashes; even in old age, success will be hard to attain. How much more so those who hear of the methods of the Dao yet never meet an enlightened teacher, who meet one yet do not practice, or who practice yet without diligence? Some obstinately talk nonsense, claiming that the wondrous Dao can be obtained without ever leaving one’s own door. Such a claim is truly absurd.

Heshang Gong, a Daoist scholar of the Eastern Han, says that “mystery upon mystery” means there is yet another heaven within heaven. The heaven spoken of here is not the kind that appears before the eyes—sun, moon, and stars, wind, rain, thunder, and lightning—when Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) are muddled and sunk in dullness. Such scenes arise only because one cannot subdue Shen and Qi and allows outer conditions to stir up deluded thoughts; they are nothing but layer upon layer of illusion.

The true heaven of this order has within it both a gate of life and a door of death. It is the place in the body where the “mysterious female” (xuanpin) resides—what Daoists call the gate of generation and transformation. It is not the heart, the kidneys, or the anus, nor is it the bladder or the Dantian (energy center). It is the palace where sun and moon unite and Yin-Yang joins together. It embraces emptiness and takes Shen and Qi as its root. It has neither roads nor boundaries: at its smallest it has no interior, and at its greatest it has no exterior. Near at hand it covers the space of a square inch; far away it holds within itself heaven and earth in all eight directions. Here the work of the nine reversals is completed and the medicinal ingredients are refined; here the three natures become one and the Golden Elixir (jindan) coalesces. The stages of cultivation known as white snow, yellow sprout, the divine water of the flower pool, and the forming of the embryo and its release from the body all take place here as well. The joining of the nine palaces and the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), the gathering of the four images and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the condensation of mercury and lead, and the cycling of the heavenly stems and earthly branches all proceed here too.

This, then, is truly a heaven brought forth by mysterious creative transformation, a heaven of everlasting spring that never knows night. It is called the “Great Luminous Treasury of Spiritual Powers,” a realm of emptiness and utmost purity. The cultivator who draws upon this heaven may attain realization when it lies but a short distance away, obtaining it as easily as one looks at an object held in the palm. Yet for a long time it has been veiled by layer upon layer of dark shadow and hidden very deep. It cannot be opened by clever guesswork, nor sought by clinging to written words and outward appearances. Only through transmission of the mind-method, with a steadfast power of the Dao (the Way) and the capacity to bear the heavy charge entrusted by one’s teacher’s lineage, can true knowledge be opened and this heaven be seen.

In earlier times the Perfected Danyang, a patriarch of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection), said: “Hold fast to the three essentials and purify the spiritual terrace; locked in mist and wrapped in smoke, it never opens. Meeting Master Chongyang once more and receiving his instruction, a clear wind scatters the fog, and the bright moon appears.” From this one can see that such cultivation must be passed on through the mind-method if one is to receive so profound a teaching; a shallow understanding alone cannot grasp it. Without a transmission of this kind, to wish to refine the Golden Elixir, form the embryo, grow a body of long life, and possess the spiritual powers of the six penetrations is impossible.

Chapter Three: True Earth

In former times, Pingshu wrote in verse: “The tiger leaps and the dragon coils amid surging wind and waves; in the field at the center, a mysterious precious pearl is born.” He also said: “If Li fire and Kan water are not harmonized by Wu-Ji earth, then even with the Four Images complete, the elixir still cannot be refined. Only because both contain True Earth can the golden sand turn back and be restored.”

The “earth” spoken of here is the earth that stands at the center of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). It is also the master of the three fires, commanding the eight directions and sending its roots through the nine Qi (vital energy), and for this reason it is called “True Void-Empty Earth.” It is the ground of the great cauldron in which the medicines are planted, and the primal palace in which treasures arise. It gathers formless light and holds the fluids of the eight waters; it becomes the place of pure awakening, and the abode of light that never fades into night. Above, it receives the cauldron of sun and moon; below, it draws in the furnace of dragon and tiger. It steals and refines the Qi of Qian and Kun, and brings forth the quintessence of Li fire and Kan water. If this primal palace is cultivated according to the proper method, there is no one who cannot reach the realm of the celestial immortal.

Many commentaries say that lead and mercury should be sown in this ground, planted in the morning and harvested by evening. Yet if they are planted too shallowly, the seed floats on the surface and cannot grow; if planted too deeply, it rots and cannot develop—still more so if one has never obtained suitable earth at all. The roots and sprouts of grasses and trees grow only when they obtain earth, and wither and die when they lose it; this is a principle unchanged through all ages. One should know that the growth of the yellow sprout, the budding of the jade stamen, and even the nurturing of true creative transformation all depend upon True Earth. What possesses the nature of earth and can bear and harmonize is precisely the intent of Shen (spirit).

Even if one accumulates the merit of the Three Origins and passes through the seven reversions, without grasping the key of the Yang Shen one still cannot accomplish creative transformation. When the intent of Shen reaches this place, Qi responds; when Qi reaches this place, Shen becomes luminous. When Shen is luminous, form appears, able to manifest and transform anywhere and to respond quietly as the moment requires. This shows just how vast is the wondrous function of True Earth.

In former times, the Perfected Changchun said: “If one can directly realize this Dao (the Way) within the heart of a square inch, one may ascend to Daluo Heaven for the rest of one’s life.” This speaks precisely of the function of True Earth. If those who study the Dao set this aside and seek to cultivate by other means, they are like lost people who cannot find the road home, yet look for the valley by following the stones.

Chapter Four: The Mutual Dependence of Mind and Breath

Cultivation must first gain a thorough and penetrating insight, establish a firm resolve, loosen what binds and set down what encumbers, and restrain anger and desire. Most essential of all is that thoughts and the breath depend upon and accompany one another.

Breathing is the method for nurturing life. The breath should be made long and unbroken, so that primordial Qi (vital energy) is gradually nourished and is not allowed to dissipate with emotions such as joy and anger. One should also constantly maintain inner awareness and gently warm and nourish the Palace of the Origin (the root within the body where primordial Qi is harbored and nurtured), so that bodily form and constitutional quality gradually grow dense and solid, transforming into the elixir treasure (the refined essence attained through cultivation).

The saying “when the mind abides, the breath abides; when the breath moves, the mind moves” means that when thought is settled, the breath is settled as well, and when the breath circulates, thought circulates with it. By means of the mind one gathers thoughts so that they remain constantly clear and lucid, guarding the wondrous awareness of the numinous source (the inner luminous awareness) and not letting this awareness rise and fall with delusive thoughts and outer conditions. In this way luminous clarity becomes vast and unobstructed, and Shen (spirit) stays fresh and clear rather than dull. If the two methods of regulating the mind and regulating the breath are used together, the effect is best; neither can be lacking.

The ancients said: “To awaken to the principle of true constancy yet fail to penetrate the Dao (the Way) of nature and life is the first fault of cultivation; to penetrate the foundation of nature and life yet lose the ancestral nature is like looking into a mirror when there is no mirror.” Cultivation should leave the body at ease and Qi undissipated; inwardly there should be no contrivance, and Shen should remain undisturbed.

Clearing away stray thoughts and regulating mind and Shen, and nurturing the breath so as to prolong life, are methods that depend upon one another. If the proper measure is lost, one clings to deliberate contrivance and falls into wrong views; if one adopts no method and clings to no state or appearance, one is employing the method of still extinction (bringing delusive thoughts to rest and returning to stillness). Yet if the proper measure is lost again, one falls into the false tenet of inert emptiness—that is, mistaking empty stillness for absolute nothingness.

When applying these methods one must not cling to them, and when setting them aside one must not abandon them altogether; the key is to master the proper measure between use and relinquishment. One should understand the view of all-pervading harmony and open right wisdom: it may seem that something has been realized, yet one does not fix it as any concrete entity. As for the four methods of doing, stopping, allowing, and extinguishing (contriving, stopping thoughts, letting be, and sweeping thoughts away), they too belong to the use of the method of still extinction; if the proper measure is lost, one falls into the false tenet of inert emptiness. Methods must not be clung to, nor wholly discarded; one should hold the measure between use and relinquishment. One should understand the view of all-pervading harmony and open right wisdom.

When the eye faculty opens and reveals true wisdom, one clearly knows that the myriad things seem to have form and body, yet in reality possess no fixed, unchanging substance. Taking the four modes of practice—“doing, stopping, letting be, and extinguishing”—as the method, one does not fall into the fault of attachment. Amid the four deportments of walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, the mind does not turn in pursuit of delusive thoughts. In this way one no longer clings to discrimination and calculation, like the wind in the sky: it has nothing to rely on and nowhere to settle, neither stained nor attached. The mind of itself becomes empty and luminous, thoroughly illuminating the one sole truth, suddenly penetrating through without obstruction. These two subtle teachings are methods of cultivation long established and constantly used, and they are also the foundation for practicing the One Vehicle and advancing toward the sacred realm.

Chapter Five: The Death of Yin and the Birth of Yang

The Jade Formula of the Three Sages says: “People of the world do not understand what is meant by ‘the death of Yin.’ Yang is the root of life, and the arising of Yin Qi (vital energy) is the cause of the decline and perishing of Yang Qi. So long as one draws in the Qi of the numinous turtle, so that the penis no longer becomes erect, Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit) naturally arise of themselves. Do not suppose that, because the penis has declined, the path of cultivating the Dao (the Way) is likewise cut off.”

Alas, those who cultivate the body know only how to restrain desire, yet do not know that the moment a thought of desire stirs in the mind, Qi scatters along with one’s intention, and Jing is depleted along with the Qi. The Perfected Changchun said: “When a single thought gives rise to a lustful mind, the harmonious Qi of the hundred vessels throughout the body is all impaired.”

Only those who have mastered the methods of cultivation can keep the penis from stirring with desire, as if the six desires and seven emotions had all dispersed, and the Three Corpses and Nine Worms—the foul impurities within the body of which Daoism speaks—had vanished without a trace, so that confused thoughts cease at once. Right mindfulness and true reality then appear. Facing outer things, the mind does not move delusively: like white jade fallen into the mud, it remains unstained; stable as Mount Tai, it does not waver.

At this time the Three Passes—the bodily gateways spoken of in cultivation—have all been opened through, and the pivot of the Gate of Life is thrown wide. The Qi of the nine lights transforms, and the auroras of the five metals appear. The double-headed jade deer emerges and exhales the golden wind upward; the three-inch crimson dragon draws the wood-fluid downward. In the medicine furnace the mercury liquid is decocted and refined; in the pot and cauldron, frost-blossoms congeal. The body is transformed into pure Yang; both form and spirit attain a wondrous state, passing beyond Heaven and Earth and casting off the bonds of Yin-Yang. This is enough to show that this method is an essential practice for cultivating the body. Some say that one may suddenly be free of desire without passing through the “death of Yin.” Such people may exist, but I have not yet seen them.

When a cultivator of the Dao (the Way) brings the breath to a state of undifferentiated chaos, the primordial Qi (vital energy) gathers and settles, then fills the whole body and circulates without cease, so that the body is often stirred and seems to fall into a frenzy. Each of the various kinds of stirring has eighty-one forms. To suppose from this that some other thing is about to seize one’s body is mistaken.

If this one-sided deviance of Qi is not dissolved, it will develop further into a “deviation of Shen (spirit)”: one seems to see deities, ghosts, and demons with one’s own eyes, and can foreknow good and ill fortune, calamity and blessing, and karmic retribution. To take these appearances for spiritual powers and numinous clarity is likewise mistaken. If this deviation of Shen is still not dissolved, demonic realms will form in turn: inner deviant disorder resonates with outer deviant anomalies, and all manner of strange events appear. Should a person contract this illness, disaster will follow; one will turn toward the path of ghosts, and may even lose one’s life and forfeit the very foundation of cultivating the Dao. The words sound correct on the surface, yet within one has departed from the true Dao—like a sheep draped in a tiger’s skin, or common rush grass passed off as orchid. Why do we who cultivate the Dao not discern this early?

If one grasps the essential point of cultivation and brings Shen and Qi back to even balance, then, practicing according to the proper standard, one can make the hun and po souls cohere in harmony; practicing according to the rule of due measure, one can make Shen and Jing (essence) bind and gather. Gradually they condense and transform, a subtle numinous body appears, and the “sacred embryo” (the inner spiritual body formed in cultivation) is formed. Golden light then fills the chamber, encircling and enveloping it; the true form changes into a body of pure Yang; Shen enters its true abode, flies forth from the crown of the head, and manifests clear brightness. Light shines everywhere, radiance glows within and without, and at last one merges wholly with the Great Void, with no further distinction of one and another. Only this is the true realm. When this realm is reached, the cultivation of nature and life can be brought to completion, all-pervading and fused without obscurity. Such a person must still heed the spoken guidance at the ear before the wisdom eye at the back of the head can grow bright. This is indeed a general teaching handed down in the Mysterious Gate from ancient times.

Chapter Seven: Demonstrating the Function of the Dao

Someone asked: “I have heard that if one cultivates in youth, the foundation is strong, while after one grows old, lead is deficient and mercury is scarce. How should these words be understood? If, before a person is born of father and mother, Jing, blood, Qi, and the fluids (the basis of the vital activity of the human body) do not yet exist, then from where do these things come?”

Someone asked: I have often heard it said that if one cultivates in youth, the foundation is strong, whereas in old age lead is depleted and mercury runs short. What, then, is to be done?

In fact, if we consider the time before a person is born, where are there any Jing (essence), blood, Qi (vital energy), or fluids? After death they return to earth, water, fire, and wind. Between the two boundaries of birth and death, it seems that everything is present everywhere. If that is so, why distinguish self from other? How can one still speak of any concrete form? And why resort to cultivation in order to seek the Dao (the Way)? The more one thinks, the more perplexed one becomes, and understanding never comes.

The reply was: A good question; let me tell you. In former times Chen Niwan answered Yuchan, saying: “The Dao originally has no form, and so dragon and tiger are borrowed as metaphors; the Dao originally has no name, and so lead and mercury are borrowed as metaphors. Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth) are compared to the cauldron and vessel, and Kan and Li (water and fire) to the medicinal ingredients. Through the work of the seven reversions and nine returns—a formulation, in Neidan (internal alchemy), concerning the transformations of refining—one refines a body of pure yang and long life.”

This is not something obtained by clinging to methods that have form and involve deliberate action. Cultivators often abide in silence within a vague and profoundly hidden state; how, then, can one still speak of self and other, or of concrete form?

Of this fundamental substance, sunlight falls upon it and yet it casts no shadow. Its wondrous functioning is free and unhindered; its innate nature embraces every kind of De (Virtue/Power), and its operation transcends all deviation. The true reality, therefore, can neither be said to be some particular thing, nor to stand in no relation to the myriad things. In movement it gathers mind and Shen (spirit), accords with function, and enters a dark and mysterious realm; in stillness it dissolves the spirit, displays no image, and appears out of emptiness and quiet. Between movement and stillness, inner and outer light reflect one another. A person’s body and mind are like a crystal pagoda, shining upon the earth and illumining the sky, lighting all things without dimness. A person’s nature is like a bright pearl in a dish, perfectly round and luminous, full of vitality, pure and without flaw.

In this way the originally subtle fundamental substance can manifest: it changes with movement and does not stagnate; it is not bound by names or forms; it unites with the Dao as what is real; and in the end one realizes the state in which, at coming, there was originally nothing, and after departing there is likewise emptiness. The great matter of causes and conditions set forth in this passage is indeed the method by which celestial immortals cultivate the Dao. The questioner expressed agreement, took leave, and departed.

The Great Dao (the Way) has neither form nor material substance. It is empty and still to the utmost extreme: listen for it and it cannot be heard, look for it and it cannot be seen, and try to grasp it and it cannot be held. Although it itself has no image, cultivating it follows a definite order. One first awakens from obscurity and recognizes the starting point; then, from that starting point, one reaches the endpoint; next, from the endpoint, one returns to sudden enlightenment; and once sudden enlightenment is understood, one enters the realm of perfect fulfillment.

From this it can be seen that the first step of cultivation is to let various traces appear out of the root—that is, to enter being from non-being. One then gathers in these traces and returns to the root—that is, to enter non-being from being. Finally, one clings neither to the root nor to the traces, and lets go of being and non-being together, seeing through every form as empty and illusory. Only then can one accord with the Dao. At this point everything comes of itself: illumination appears everywhere, every matter can be seen clearly, and throughout heaven and earth there is no ordinary thing among the myriad beings that does not contain its original treasure.

This is not gained by clinging to outward appearances and searching for the mysterious, nor by merely picking through passages and phrases and explaining written words. This field of light is realized from the inherent principle of one’s own mind, and it can be experienced only when the mind within is clear, tranquil, and free of contrivance. If one has not passed through the whole course of cultivation from beginning to end, but merely forces the mind to conform to principles, and then claims that the moment one opens one’s mouth one has already acknowledged and realized that “there is no need to cultivate,” adding that originally there is nothing at all and that purity is like empty space—this is understanding only on the lips, while the mind has not in fact understood. To sit in barren stillness for a whole lifetime is still to reach old age without any attainment.

Have you never heard it said? Even if one suddenly awakens to one’s own mind, one must still rely on the complete cultivation of every kind of meritorious practice; even if one realizes the Dao in an instant, one must still undergo long refinement. Alas—gentlemen who cultivate the self, why do you not ponder these words again and again? If what is heard does not go deep and what is recognized is not clear, one cannot exhaust the essentials within them; and if the essentials cannot be exhausted, cultivation will bear no fruit. Can this be empty talk?

Chapter Nine: Forgetting Form and Nourishing Qi (vital energy)

The human being is the numinous excellence among the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity, and forms a body by means of the Four Great Elements—earth, water, fire, and wind. Because of attachment to the “I,” sensations of pain and itch arise, and so does the desire to seek wealth and honor; in dwelling, one is forever bent on finding ease and comfort…

In food and drink, seek only to be warm and full; in daily life, constantly keep a heart of cherishing and sparing. Excessive constraint, however, will instead cause a person to sink and be lost. To foster primordial Qi (vital energy) and nurture one’s innate nature, one must clearly discern the movements of Qi within the body; only by forgetting the burdens of the physical form can body and mind be nourished.

In former times the Perfected Changchun said, “In the end one must abandon the body and stake one’s life. If one is always sparing of one’s life and protective of one’s face, when will it ever come to an end?” Is this not precisely the effect of forgetting the physical form? He also said, “The mind is settled and unmoving, like a mountain; Qi goes and returns without cease, like the tide of the sea.” Is this not precisely the method of nourishing Qi? The Perfected Danyang said, “Only when the form is empty and still can Qi circulate.” These words are indeed well founded.

One further hears the Yinfu Jue say, “All who cultivate the body should bring the selfish mind to rest, hold fast to single-minded unity, cherish primordial Qi, and circulate Jing (essence) and Qi.” One must understand that the Qi within the body must not be scattered and lost. The practitioner should draw in the senses of ear and eye, relax the physical form, and make the body as still as a withered tree, with the upper portal opened wide and the lower portal shut tight. Here “Heaven’s Gate” and “Earth’s Door” are names, in the cultivation of Neidan (internal alchemy), for the apertures within and without the body. Let right mindfulness appear and all stray thoughts subside, and let the breathing be long, fine, and faint, as if both there and not there.

Gather in the harmonious Qi and open the cavities of Dragon and Tiger (the apertures, in the art of Neidan, where Jing and Qi are refined and nourished), joining them with the true Qi of the Taiyi Primordial Palace (the place within the body where primordial Qi resides). Let Yin-Yang Qi rise and fall day and night without cease; regulate the drawing off and replenishing of water and fire until it is exactly right, and keep the lead cauldron (an alchemical metaphor for the place where Jing and Qi are refined and nourished) warm, moist, and uninterrupted. Cultivate the true fire and circulate it along the three passes, allowing no error to arise in the process. What is called “warm and unbroken” is precisely this continuous, gentle nurturing. To cultivate until one dwells in the realm of the upper heavens—how could that be empty talk?

When the sea of Qi is clear and pure, deviant Qi cannot intrude. Like a hen incubating her eggs or a deer nurturing its velvet antlers, one must long protect this single current of primordial Qi, cause it to return to the root, and thereby realize the Dao (the Way) of preserving nature and life and of long life and lasting vision. In former times someone rode a carp into the water and again rode a carp out of the water. Was this not achieved precisely by forgetting the burdens of the physical form?

Chapter Ten, “Forgetting Qi and Nourishing Shen (spirit).”

Cultivation requires that body and mind accord with what is centered and upright: the phase of fire (huohou) must not grow too dry and fierce, nor the phase of water overflow without restraint. The two are blended evenly according to a definite measure, so that the single Qi (vital energy) may rest securely within the furnace and be scattered no longer. In this way the golden liquor is refined and one returns to the source. Once true nature has been settled and stabilized, one must not cling to it rigidly and refuse to let it go.

If one remains attached and never forgets, it is like refusing to abandon the boat after the river has been crossed, and thus failing to reach the farther shore; it is also like continuing to take medicine after the illness has already been cured, which instead injures one’s upright Qi. Zhang Pingshu (the Daoist master of Neidan, internal alchemy, Zhang Boduan) said: “In refining lead one must not use ordinary lead; and once true lead has been used, it too must be set aside.” This is precisely the subtle art of employing lead: after it has been used, one clings to it no longer. He has indeed stated the essential point.

From this it can be seen that the key to cultivation lies in nourishing Shen (spirit). The state of mind must be clear and still, and even Qi is no longer grasped and held; within the heart there is no longer any deliberate exertion, so that, as a matter of principle, Shen is not brought to exhaustion. The “undying spirit” spoken of here is not a spirit produced by intention, thought, and deliberation, but the original and true spirit that shares one root with Heaven and Earth and forms one body with the myriad things. Nourished by a method of the subtlest workings, it outwardly seems as though nothing is being done, so that the radiance of the sun and moon shines within. Inwardly a celestial light arises, bright as a luminous pearl and round and clear as the disk of the moon. When this light illuminates the interior and day and night alike are lucid, a treasury of spiritual powers is formed.

In this state, spirit answers spirit in numinous subtlety, like riding a crane and mounting the wind, coming and going beyond all measure. Yet one must not take this realm for something strange or miraculous. One should still return to the empty valley of emptiness and stillness to nourish oneself, steady and unmoving as a mountain. Then suddenly, one day, a body of the Yang Spirit (yangshen) can be transformed into being. Only when one can gather it in and release it at will may the way of nourishing Shen be said to have reached completion.

The Jiepei Ling of Perfected Zhang (a Daoist honorific, often referring to Zhang Boduan) says: “The Yang Spirit leaves the body, profound and dimly remote. In the space of an instant it roams throughout the Three Isles (the immortal realms said to lie upon the sea). When going out and coming in have become thoroughly practiced, one holds it fast and unmoving, then seeks a still deeper mystery, and at last becomes one with True Emptiness and the Great Void.” These words are indeed well founded.

Chapter Ten: Forgetting the Spirit and Nourishing Emptiness

Even if a practitioner has already obtained the method of refining the spirit (Shen), settled the spirit securely in the Mysterious Palace—the inner chamber spoken of in cultivation—and attained purity, one has still not truly merged with the void or accorded with transformation. One must go further and release one’s clinging hold on this “spirit,” and instead nurture nothingness: neither lingering in non-action (Wuwei) nor indulging in deliberate action; neither pursuing thoughts that have already disappeared nor giving rise in advance to thoughts that have not yet occurred.

In the gaps where thoughts break off and resume, when the mind is silent and without thinking and calmly settled, one can at last see through to the emptiness of all phenomena and the unreality of every form. One by one, illusory causes and conditions disperse in the present moment, and every kind of affliction and bondage comes to rest as well. At this time there is no abiding that clings to “abiding,” and no thought that clings to “thought.” The state of mind is subtle and faint, as if it were being employed and as if it were not. Calmly one lets empty stillness contain and fuse with empty stillness, and the substance of nothingness suddenly opens into clarity, free of any stagnation.

If one does not understand the transformations of cultivation and nurturing from beginning to end, and instead fixes one’s effort one-sidedly on a single place, deviation will result. Nurturing mind and spirit in the upper region may scorch the eyes and redden the face, so that one loses the correct path of refining and nurturing the sincere heart. Nurturing in the lower region may sink into stagnation in the Dantian (energy center), so that one’s efforts amount only to working on the grain passage (the anus). Nurturing on the outside may lead one to lose the root and chase appearances, dissipating Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). Nurturing on the inside may mean only embellishing the wondrous realm within the belly and the heart, constrained there and unable to extend everywhere. Each one, clinging to a single extreme, falls in turn into delusion, arguing over who is right and who is wrong, who has gained and who has lost, unable to extricate themselves. People of this sort are not yet fit to discuss the Great Dao (the Way).

The most crucial and most subtle point of cultivation is to comprehend the method of nurturing Qi and Shen and to attain inner vision—the practice of turning awareness inward to observe body and mind. Inwardly one discerns the empty stillness of body and mind; outwardly one discerns the empty stillness of the myriad things. Toward all that is seen, heard, sensed, and known, one takes no hold. After purity and luminous clarity have been reached, one can recognize this realm face to face, settle the mind in it in the present moment, and gradually become thoroughly adept. In this way body and mind slowly merge into the Great Void, and one manifests as a heaven and earth in oneself: inwardly containing a radiance like the sun and moon, outwardly blending with the void. There is no need to place the mind deliberately in the Great Void beforehand; naturally one becomes one with the Great Void, without the slightest obstruction and without defilement even as fine as a mote of dust.

At this point one no longer distinguishes inside from outside or above from below, nor clings to any form. One simply remains concentrated, quietly settled, and utterly unmoving, the practice fully matured and fused into one. In such a realm, heaven is no longer merely heaven and earth is no longer merely earth; one does not even know where one’s own body is. When form gathers, it becomes the body; when form disperses, it returns to Qi. Mind and spirit are lucid, free, and stand alone in independence. This may be called shattering the void and awakening completely.

Yet words cannot fully express what the mind intends, nor can what the mind intends be fully exhausted in words. This realm lies beyond the reach of language and thought. It belongs to a transmission outside the teachings—a realization in practice that is not conveyed entirely through the verbal exposition of the scriptures (Jing)—and it cannot be explained by writing alone.

Chapter Twelve: Fusing and Absorbing Without Stagnation

It is said that the eye cannot see itself, and for that very reason it can see the myriad things; a mirror cannot reflect itself, and for that very reason it can reflect the myriad things. If the eye concerned itself only with looking at itself, and the mirror only with reflecting itself, each would scarcely have time for its own affairs—how then could it attend to what lies outside?

To bring forth the wondrous function of contemplative illumination, there must be some further place upon which that illumination rests. Only then can one turn back from things to behold the original mind, bright and clear and nowhere absent. Even from a single grain of dust one may awaken to the great earth; even from a single drop of water one may see through to the great sea. From this one realizes in experience that phenomena and principle are not two things, and that movement and stillness are originally one. When no deluded thoughts arise within, one understands that external objects are empty from the start. One accords with conditions and acts naturally, and does not leave behind discriminative attachments that become a piercing pain and an obstruction in the mind.

It is like gold that has been hammered and refined in every way: only when the ore is entirely removed does the brightness appear. Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way), advancing diligently in study and practice by the power of the Dao, cleanse the inner mind and enter deeply into contemplative illumination. At once they let go of the external dusty realm, see that the fundamental substance of every form among the myriad things is empty, and deluded thoughts arise no more. In the perfect light of true reality they suddenly open into clarity: not a single thing remains, and so there is neither an accumulation of suffering nor any stagnation or obstruction. From this they take in every realm and return them all alike to the one mind.

Once one has realized that the forms of the myriad things return to original nature and revert to the source, and can moreover manifest true realms out of the original mind, one may then make evident a subtle wondrous existence without marks. Meeting change in accordance with principle, one employs the power of concentration and wisdom, displays every kind of skillful approach, accomplishes the right knowledge amassed through the myriad practices, and reveals the pure true nature to be like empty space. The emptiness of empty space is without mark and without form—what thing could obstruct it? Thus, when the profound capacity of mind enters a mote of dust, it is not thereby small; when it embraces the Great Void, it is not thereby large.

There are only this mind and these realms, recondite and subtle yet perfectly fused, an undifferentiated whole. Once they are thoroughly understood, no trace can be found. This may be called the true emptiness that exhausts the mysteries of the Dharma-realm. If one has never applied the effort, so that mind and realm remain obscured and form and emptiness have not yet dissolved together, and yet one falsely claims to interpenetrate the myriad things while the inner mind suffers neither bondage nor stagnation—this is muddled indeed.

Chapter Thirteen: No Cultivation and No Attainment

Within the Lesser Vehicle (a path of practice inclined toward the pursuit of personal liberation), some people cling to emptiness and take emptiness to be a nihilistic void that annihilates everything. They therefore have nowhere to take refuge, nor any correct principle of the Dharma to follow. Fearing that forms and appearances will become an obstruction, they try to destroy forms and appearances in order to prove emptiness, or to depart from forms and appearances in order to prove emptiness. They see only that all phenomena are illusory, and hold that nothing is worth drawing near to, yet they fail to see the emptiness of wondrous being that, within emptiness, can transform and bring forth the myriad things. This emptiness is not a matter of doing nothing and being unable to preside over anything; within it there is, of itself, a mystery that arises as an integral whole. How could it be like flower-images in empty space, or heated air beneath the sunlight—merely seeming to exist, when in fact there is no such thing?

Some therefore claim that they have, in the present moment, realized “non-cultivation,” and that from then on they need not practice. Yet they do not understand that within “non-cultivation” there is still cultivation, and within “non-seeking” there is still seeking. How does this differ from ordinary foolish people, who from the outset neither cultivate nor seek? Muddled like livestock, they simply set no thought or action in motion—can this really count as truly realizing emptiness? Without going deep into the great sea, one cannot obtain the wish-fulfilling pearl (the legendary jewel said to grant wishes according to the heart’s desire).

If from the very beginning one does not cultivate wisdom and expedient means (flexible methods of practice adopted in accordance with wisdom), one cannot accomplish the majestic Dharma-body (the pure body realized by practitioners of the Buddha-Dao). If from the very beginning one does not seek the originally true and lucid fundamental substance, one cannot perfectly fulfill Dharma-nature (the inherent nature of all dharmas). When delusive thoughts suddenly cease all at once and the original true substance is revealed, one knows that there is no other truth that needs to be sought—this is “seeking within non-seeking.” Once the Dharma-body is already complete, one can respond to affairs as they change and act according to the occasion, and there is likewise no other true substance that needs to be cultivated—this is “cultivation within non-cultivation.”

Seen in this light, since there is neither the false nor the true, what remains that can be cultivated or realized? This shows that numinous, luminous awareness originally has not a single thing to cling to. A lifetime of toil—what is there worth lingering over? The ever-abiding form is as steady as Mount Tai, unmoved by external things; the ground of the mind is pure as empty space, without obstruction. In this way the wondrous substance of perfect radiance is manifested, far removed from every name and form, illuminating that the myriad things are without exception empty—and where, then, is there any so-called cultivation and realization?

Account of Conduct

Tongxuanzi Liu Zhiyuan was a native of Xici Gaolouli. He was an inner-chamber disciple of Chaoranzi (a disciple who formally received the master’s transmission and entered deeply within the gate).

Tongxuanzi Liu Zhiyuan was a native of Gaolouli in Xici, and a disciple admitted to the inner chamber of Chaoranzi. He followed his master in studying the Dao (the Way) for twenty years, and the master never once showed joy or anger in his expression. Later the master’s reputation spread as grass is laid flat by the wind. People throughout the land of Jin and the region of Bingzhou revered him and wished to take him as their teacher, in numbers beyond counting.

In ordinary life the gentleman slept without startling dreams; when he walked he paid no attention to the road; sitting in stillness he was like a withered tree, and resting he was like an unmoving stone. He was often silent and sparing of words, his mind within untouched by external things. When someone came to visit, he frequently left his words unfinished and seemed to sink into a dim meditative absorption, neither answering questions nor meeting the visitor’s eyes. Yet after the guest had departed, that person could often grasp some subtle excellence in the direction of cultivation. If the power of the Dao had not long been deeply engraved in the heart, how could such a state have been reached?

Words that he let fall in passing were, sentence by sentence, as precious as pearls and fine jade. Once he took up the brush he could produce whole pieces; without searching for ideas they gathered into a collection titled Qizhen (Opening the True). The gentleman lived to the age of fifty-nine. With his thoughts clear and lucid, on the nineteenth day of the seventh month he underwent shijie (“liberation by the corpse”—what Daoism describes as casting off the ordinary body by means of the physical remains or a symbolic substitute, and departing in transcendence). The verse he left behind says:

“Like a walking corpse chasing wind and dust upon the earth; when cultivation is accomplished, original truth is realized. The great earth is lifted up and the azure heaven embraced, yet there is no fixed form; throughout the ten directions and the three realms, a complete body is made manifest.”

When the coffin was carried out, wind and rain escorted the procession the whole way for more than thirty li. But near the coffin the wind could not stir the spirit banner, and the rain did not wet the clothing. Auspicious Qi (vital energy) joined with a rainbow, and a strange fragrance hung as rich as musk. None of those who attended the burial failed to marvel, and with one voice they said, “This is truly brought about by the responsive power of the work of the Dao.” How extraordinary this was!

Dong Yongchong, “Ancient Melody”

O dragon, O dragon, return to the palace of the sea; O phoenix, O phoenix, spread your wings and fly toward the cinnabar empyrean. Ah, Tongxuanzi was truly a great man! He seemed merely broad and full in the belly, yet within he was filled with the refined essence of cultivating the Dao. To study the Dao and reach the supreme Dao is indeed something that can be done; to cultivate the True and realize the realm of the True is indeed something that can be done as well.

Zhang Guobao, “Six-Character Verse”

Through cultivation he gained jet-black hair and a numinous, refined complexion, and cast off a body as light and lovely as an immortal’s. Wherever he might be, he could manifest freely, dignified and upright, thoroughly awakening to the wondrous teaching of non-arising.

Qu Changong, Continuing the Rhyme of the Verse Left Behind

The Numinous True cast off the bodily frame and left the dusty world. Wisdom joined with perfect radiance, and the Dao (the Way) likewise joined with the Real. In every realm that possesses form and appearance, no trace of him can be found; only when the formless realm is reached does his full countenance appear.

Stone Inscription of the West Mountain: Wang

The elder brother in the master’s lineage departed this life as a cicada sheds its shell. All who were present raised a hand to the brow in reverence and mourning. A tremendous roar like thunder shook the earth, leaving an immortal’s traces to be handed down through the ages. Open-hearted and pure as a clear wind, he roamed free and at ease, traveling by the moon. He left an undying name in the human world, yet he was one who had attained the Dao and dwelt beyond the heavens.

Another seven-character quatrain, voicing quiet reflection:

When the master spoke, he was already nearly sixty. Before long he left his mortal remains, ascended into the formless realm, and thereafter there was no more coming or going. To become an immortal and rise aloft should place him in the highest rank of the immortal realm; upon Mount Peng (the legendary mountain of the immortals) there sounded, on this account, a clap of thunder that shook the sky.

Another poem:

The immortal’s work was brought to completion. He escaped the cage of the dusty world, rode the wind, and drifted away until no trace remained. Mount Hu (the legendary mountain of the immortals) stands as before, but where is the man? One sees only a sheet of shimmering waves reflected upon the green peaks.

Qizhen ji (Collection on Opening to the True), lower volume.