《清庵莹蟾子语录》

A skilled speaker opens his heart as soon as he meets someone. Is such a person not truly an adept in the Daoist tradition? From childhood, I read the Confucian books; as an adult, I took pleasure in discussing abstract principles. Even when I heard someone humble and unschooled speak in a pedantic, stale way, I never considered myself superior as a man of learning. I would always set aside my pride and ask him to explain. Yet I had never met a true adept.

One day, I returned to Maoshan. Li Jun, known as Master Yingchan, the host of Qing’an Hermitage, where I had once lived in seclusion, came to visit. Before we had even settled into our seats, he spoke a few words, each clear and natural, free of worldly taint. He then discussed the principles of the Yi before Fuxi—the legendary sage king of antiquity—drew the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), and explained the ancestral masters’ ineffable barrier, beyond the measure of ordinary reasoning. Sweeping aside the words found in the texts of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, he suddenly made the truth clear to those of us who could not see it, revealing our complete, unhindered nature. His clear, fresh presence touched everyone, and a gentle radiance filled the room. I could scarcely tell whether the Moon Palace’s Toad Grotto—a legendary dwelling of the toad in the moon, here a metaphor for a pure and secluded realm—had moved into me, or whether I myself had entered the Toad Grotto.

That night, overcome with joyful surprise, I gathered my thoughts, lit a stick of incense in my heart, and bowed before my bed. “You are truly my teacher, a true adept in the Daoist tradition. If you do not consider me unworthy, I hope you will guide and instruct me further.” From then on, I followed my teacher for a long time. We exchanged many questions and answers, which I compiled into a booklet and read again and again as a mark of respect.

Only in the presence of my teacher at Qing’an Hermitage, after kicking over the ramparts of the mysterious and shattering the great void, was the matter truly brought to its conclusion. At that point, if someone came forward and asked the old master of Qing’an, “Now that you have reached this stage, what use are these old teachings?” he would surely reply, “Those were the very words I used to begin speaking when I first met an adept.”

Written in the summer of the Wuzi year of the Zhiyuan era.

In the summer of the Wuzi year of the Yuán era, during the season of heavy rains, the Maoshan Daoist Heyan Guangchanzi respectfully recorded these words.

Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi, Volume One

Compiled and recorded by his disciple, Heyan Chai Yuangao.

Questions and Answers

Dadian the monk recorded in his commentary on the Heart Sutra: A monk asked Master Cen, “Two rats are gnawing at a vine. How can one escape this predicament?” Master Cen replied, “People today must understand how to make themselves invisible.” What does it mean to make oneself invisible? The master said, “Why wait until everything has withered away before realizing that all things are empty? One should remain unattached and unstained by anything, right here and now. I take nothing into account, and so nothing can entangle me. This is what it means to make oneself invisible.”

Someone asked, “ ‘Wanting to speak but unable to speak; Shandong and Hebei may both be discussed.’ What does this mean?” The master replied, “If one tries to express this matter in words, words can never say it all. The final phrase is boundless and already contains everything. What more is there to say? The words ‘unable to speak’ have, in fact, already said it.”

Someone asked, “Would you like to know this scripture?” The reply was, “Western Qúyéni, Northern Yùdānyuè.” Why mention these two phrases in particular? The master said, “I would not put it that way. If someone asked me what this scripture is, I would only tell them: east and west are separated by a hundred thousand miles; north and south lie eight thousand miles apart.”

Someone asked, “What, in the texts of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, might these four phrases be compared to: ‘This is the great divine mantra, the great luminous mantra, the unsurpassed mantra, the mantra unequaled by any other’?” The master said, “They may be compared to the state described in Daoist books as ‘the wondrous within the wondrous, the mysterious within the mysterious, nothing higher than the unsurpassed, and what is not so yet is so.’ They may also be compared to what Confucian texts call ‘true contemplation, true clarity, and the true supreme One.’ Yet the most profound principles ultimately lie beyond words and writing.”

Someone asked, “When Bodhisattva Wangming first entered the first stage of bodhisattva practice, he had already left home as a monk. How, then, could he bring a woman out of samadhi? And why could Manjushri Bodhisattva, teacher of the Seven Buddhas, not bring her out?” The master said, “Chou’an said, ‘A dog welcomes someone who once lived here; a crow protects a fledgling that has fallen from its nest.’ The meaning is clear. There is no need to doubt it further.”

The master asked me, “Because Manjushri could not bring the woman out of samadhi, he summoned Wangming to investigate the Dharma Gate of Nonduality—the principle that transcends distinctions and opposites. Manjushri said, ‘Do not move. Move even once, and you’ll get thirty blows.’ How do you understand this?” I was about to ponder it when Ding’an happened to set off and, by chance, struck upon the key point. I brought up the incident to explain it, and the master approved my understanding.

The master said, “A mud snake at the bottom of a well leaps up to dance the Zhezhi; the bright moon between the windows shines on plum and pear trees. How do you understand this?” I thought for a long time, then said, “Play a tune from the hollow within; shine through the empty flowers in the eyes.” The master said, “Still not right.” I tried again: “Split open the skull, and there is only me; thrust out the eyes, and there is nothing else.” The master said, “This time you’re close.”

Someone asked, “In the old case of the two monks who rolled up the blinds, one gained and one lost. What does that mean?” The master said, “The benevolent see it from the standpoint of benevolence and call it benevolence; the wise see it from the standpoint of wisdom and call it wisdom.”

Someone asked Chan Master Jianshan, “What is the Dharma Body?” Jianshan replied, “The Dharma Body has no fixed form.” The person then asked, “What is the Dharma Eye?” Jianshan said, “The Dharma Eye is without blemish.” Daowu heard this and did not approve of the answers, so he would not allow the monk to continue his studies. When Chuanzi returned, he repeated the exchange and gave the same answers as before. Daowu said, “This time, I have something to say.” He then asked, “What is the Dharma Eye?” Jianshan again replied, “The Dharma Eye is without blemish.” Daowu still did not approve. Chuanzi returned and brought up the matter again, giving the same answers as before. Daowu said, “This time, I have a lion.”

Someone asked the master, “The questions about the Dharma were the same both times, and the answers were also the same. Why did you disapprove the first time, but approve the second?” The master said, “The clouds and the moon look the same, but the streams and the mountains each differ.” This means that exchanges that appear identical on the surface may arise from different circumstances and be understood differently.

The master also said, “Dongshan’s Samadhi of the Precious Mirror reveals the Five Positions of the Upright and the Inclined. The verses say: ‘The Inclined within the Upright; the Upright within the Inclined; coming from within the Upright; arriving from the Inclined; arriving in both together.’ How should these five situations be investigated?” The reply was, “Unless you recognize the Inclined through the Upright, you will not see the Inclined. Unless you experience the Upright through the Inclined, the Upright will not be revealed. The upright aspect returns to the center, and the inclined aspect also reaches the center. When the inclined and the upright become one, that is ‘arriving in both together.’ At this point, neither the inclined nor the upright is distinguished; only the Middle Way is manifest.” The Marshal said, “You are still a little short. You must understand it through movement and stillness.”

One day, the master was sitting with four others. They discussed what Master Chuan had said: “It is mind, it is not mind, it is not mind,” and asked how it should be understood. None of the others gave a suitable answer. I replied, “To say it is mind is wrong; to say it is not mind is also wrong.” The master asked, “Then what is right?” I gave a loud shout. The master said, “Hold it firmly.” He then asked, “What is the Dao?” I struck the underside of the table. The master asked again, “What is a person of the Dao?” I struck it again. The master said, “You are still a little short.” I immediately shouted in response. The master said, “Eight ke too early.” “Ke” was an ancient unit of time; here it indicates that the response came at the wrong moment.

Question: “How should we explain the saying, ‘Thirty spokes converge at a single hub’?”

The master said, “The spokes and the hub are simply parts of a wheel. It is when the spokes converge at the hub that the wheel can serve its purpose. This is like thirty days making up a month, through which the moon’s radiance becomes visible. It is also like the myriad things returning to emptiness, through which the function of one’s original nature becomes apparent. The principle is the same.”

Question: “How should we explain ‘ten spokes converging at a single hub’?”

The master said, “The spokes and the hub are simply parts of a wheel. It is when the spokes converge at the hub that the wheel can serve its purpose. This is like thirty days making up a month, through which the moon’s radiance becomes visible. It is also like the myriad things returning to emptiness, through which the function of one’s original nature becomes apparent. The principle is the same.”

Question: “There are many different metaphorical explanations of the saying, ‘Among those who live, thirteen belong to one category; among those who die, thirteen belong to another.’ Please explain it clearly for me.”

The master said, “‘Those who live’ refers to Water and Fire working in harmony; ‘those who die’ refers to Water and Fire working against each other. Water’s completed number is six, and Fire’s is seven; six and seven together make thirteen. The ancients said, ‘Seven and six make thirteen; spring colors fill the lunar palace.’ That is what this means. Some explain it as the seven emotions and six desires making thirteen. That interpretation has some merit. But explaining it through the Eight Trigrams and the Five Phases is incorrect.

“Have you never heard the lower section of the Dao De Jing say, ‘The hard and strong belong to death; the soft and weak belong to life’? ‘Hard and strong’ means being governed by anger and desire; ‘soft and weak’ means restraining anger and curbing desire. When anger and desire arise, Fire Qi surges upward while Water Qi sinks below. This is Water and Fire working against each other. When anger and desire subside, Yang Qi descends and Yin Qi rises, and Water and Fire come into harmony. This is Water and Fire working together. What is there left to doubt?”

Someone asked, “Isn’t it as though there were a bellows between Heaven and Earth? It is empty, yet never exhausted; the more it works, the more breath it produces. Could this bellows contain the mysteries of Heaven and Earth’s creation and transformation? Master, please explain it clearly to me.”

The master said, “‘Tuo’ is a bottomless pouch, and ‘yue’ is a flute with three holes. Together, they refer to a bellows. This image describes Heaven and Earth as empty, vast, and boundless, containing many subtle principles. It also describes the human mind and spirit as empty, still, clear, and alert, neither clouded nor lost. ‘It does not collapse’ means that it expands and flows freely. ‘The more it moves, the more it produces’ means that it responds to change and has boundless capacity in its activity.”

Someone asked, “What does ‘Tun at dawn, Meng at dusk’ mean?”

The master said, “The four trigrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li form the framework of change in Heaven and Earth. The other sixty hexagrams move and transform within it, beginning with Tun and Meng and ending with Jiji and Weiji. They serve as a standard for the timing of the alchemical fire. Alchemical writings compare Qian and Kun to the cauldron and furnace, Kan and Li to the ingredients, and the other hexagrams to the mechanisms of change. This is what the saying means.

“The sixty hexagrams contain three hundred and sixty lines, symbolizing the three hundred and sixty days of the year. After the winter solstice, the sequence begins with Tun and Meng and ends with Jiji and Weiji at the time of Major Snow. Over the course of a month, it begins with Tun and Meng on the first day and returns to Jiji and Weiji at month’s end. Over the course of a day, it begins with Tun and Meng at the Zi hour and returns to Jiji and Weiji at the Hai hour.

“In cultivation, even a brief period of practice can encompass the year’s cycle of solar terms: beginning the work is Tun and Meng; bringing it to a close and gathering it in is Jiji and Weiji. Thus, ‘Tun at dawn, Meng at dusk’ is simply a general name for this entire sequence of changes. One who understands this principle can complete the full cycle of the celestial circuit in an instant, with all the hexagrams contained within it. This is what the patriarch meant when he said, ‘Within the hexagram without lines, Qian and Kun are already settled.’”

Someone asked, “What does the phrase ‘a golden goose raised inside a precious vase’ mean?”

The master said, “From the perspective of Wuwei (non-action), these are two Chan Buddhist koans. From the perspective of deliberate practice, the phrase describes a stage of cultivation. Let me first explain it from the perspective of Wuwei.

A monk asked Master Zhaozhou, ‘Does a dog have Buddha-nature?’ Zhaozhou said, ‘Yes.’ The monk asked, ‘Why do you say it does?’ Zhaozhou replied, ‘It does not.’ The monk then asked, ‘Why do you say it does not?’ Zhaozhou said, ‘Because it never had it in the first place.’ An ancient master also asked, ‘The little goose in the bottle has grown into a big goose. How can it get out?’ Many people today cannot penetrate these two koans. If someone can give a single, penetrating answer, their study is complete.

From the perspective of deliberate practice, the ‘dog’ symbolizes the emergence of something from nothing, and Yang within Yin. Some also say the dog is a watchdog kept in the residence of the Minister of Justice, to guard against theft from within. ‘A golden goose raised inside a precious vase’ refers to gold in water and the Elixir in the furnace. Raising the golden goose means nurturing the sacred embryo, which gradually takes shape through Neidan (internal alchemy). Once the sacred embryo has matured, it is like the little goose in the bottle growing into a big goose. By ordinary worldly reasoning, for the goose to get out, the bottle must be broken. But the goose emerges while the bottle remains unbroken: this points to the mystery of shedding the womb. Thus the patriarchs said, ‘A jade dog is hidden within the brocade tent; a golden goose is raised inside the precious vase.’ This is precisely the mystery of Golden Elixir cultivation.”

Someone asked, “What does the phrase ‘Cast off your wife, and you will only separate Yin from Yang in vain’ mean?” The master said, “The Perfected Ziyang once said, ‘Until you have obtained true lead, do not withdraw into the mountains.’ This sounds much like a warning about some people today who study the Dao but are misled by false teachers. They learn a method of cultivation and assume they have already attained the Dao. They cast off their wives and abandon their children to live in seclusion in the mountains. When their cultivation brings no results, they regret it. Some return to lay life and go home; others marry again. There are many such people.

“There are also people of shallow understanding and little learning who do not grasp the sages’ teachings. They say that casting off one’s wife is not the Way of cultivation, but then describe women as vessels for refining the Elixir, claim that women carry medicine within them, or even call the vagina the source of life. These claims deeply distort the principles of cultivation. They do not understand that the patriarchs meant to tell people that if they cannot put an end to desire, then even casting off one’s wife is futile. The patriarchs also saw that students of the Dao had misunderstood their meaning, so they went on to say, ‘Naturally, a vessel will come to cook and refine the Dragon and Tiger; why cling to one’s household or remain attached to wife and children?’ Today, the unlearned seize only on the first line and give no thought at all to the next. This is truly blameworthy.”

Someone asked, “My teacher once said that in cultivating Neidan, one must not fixate on the year, month, day, or hour. Why, then, does it also say that one must know dawn and dusk in order to gather the medicine?” The master said, “This is the same as ‘Tun’ and ‘Meng’: both refer to the times when Yin and Yang wax and wane, though their specific applications differ slightly. The Beginning of Spring and the Beginning of Autumn are dawn and dusk within the year; the waxing and waning moons are dawn and dusk within the month; the hours of Yin and Shen are dawn and dusk within the day; and when Yin and Yang meet is dawn and dusk within the body. Understand the principles governing the changes between day and night, and you will grasp the rhythms and shifts of Yin and Yang. Investigate the causes of change between obscurity and clarity, and you will understand the principles of life and death. The fundamental teachings of the Buddha, the immortals, and the sages are, in broad terms, all contained here.”

Someone asked, “Look for it, but it cannot be seen; therefore it is called ‘Xi.’ Listen for it, but it cannot be heard; therefore it is called ‘Yi’…” (The sentence is incomplete in the text provided.)

Question: Laozi says, “You look at it but cannot see it, so it is called ‘subtle’; you listen for it but cannot hear it, so it is called ‘invisible’; you reach for it but cannot touch it, so it is called ‘imperceptible.’” Is this saying the same thing as “When you cannot see me or hear me, and cast off all relative distinctions, this is called the wondrous Dao,” or are they two different things?

The master replied: They are broadly similar, but the underlying principles differ. The first concerns the Dao’s essence; the second concerns its function. The Doctrine of the Mean says, “Be watchful even where others cannot see you, and guarded even where others cannot hear you. Nothing is more manifest than what is hidden, and nothing is more evident than what is subtle.” Thus, the noble person is always careful in speech and conduct when alone. Only when one casts off all kinds of relative distinctions where nothing can be seen or heard can this be called the wondrous Dao. If all that is meant is that it cannot be seen, heard, or touched, and is therefore called subtle, invisible, and imperceptible, then what distinctions are there to cast off?

Yin Yule asked: Among the twelve months of the year there is the Zi month, and among the twelve double-hours of the day there is the Zi hour. Where, I wonder, is the Zi hour within the human body?

The master replied: Perhaps this refers precisely to the words: “Bring the mind to the utmost emptiness and hold fast to stillness. As the myriad things flourish, I observe their return to the root.” Someone else asked: “When Gui Qi stirs, if it disperses as soon as the moment shifts, how should this be understood?” The master replied: That is so.

Yin asked again: The Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning suspends a precious pearl five zhang above the ground. How should this be explained?

The master replied: How would you explain it? Yin Yule said: Five is a Yang number. The master replied: No. To say that the precious pearl hangs five zhang above the ground means to transcend the Five Turbidities, a term commonly used in Buddhism and Daoism for the many impurities of the world. To dwell in the realm of the empty and mysterious is to gather in the spirit and enter the wondrous state. Someone else asked: Does rising above the Five Turbidities mean reaching the Gate of the Mysterious Female, the wondrous source from which all things arise? The master replied: Though that is what the words say, if you do not truly apply yourself and experience it firsthand, what does it accomplish merely to speak of such a symbol?

Someone asked, “Heaven and Earth have no partial love; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs. The sage, too, has no partial love; he treats the people as straw dogs. Why use something so lowly as a metaphor?”

The master replied, “Heaven and Earth and the sage do not regard ‘benevolence’ as a deliberate act of love. They see the myriad things and the people as entirely ordinary, letting them grow naturally and letting them perish naturally. Though there is birth and death, in the end they return to the root and recover their destiny, going back to the source and returning to their nature. The Book of Changes says, ‘Benevolence is manifest, while its workings remain hidden; it sets the myriad things in motion, yet does not share the sage’s anxieties.’ This is what is meant by ‘Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs.’ The Way of Qian bestows beauty and benefit upon all under Heaven, yet does not claim credit for any particular benefit it has given. How vast it is! This is also what is meant by ‘The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs.’”

Someone asked, “Laozi says that an infant has not yet begun to laugh; Mencius says that a truly great person does not lose the heart of a child. Do these two sayings mean the same thing?”

The master replied, “Yes. They mean that a person’s simple, natural nature has not yet been lost, and that returning to one’s nature is not far off.”

Someone asked, “Laozi says, ‘The Dao is indistinct and elusive; within the indistinct and elusive there are things, and within the elusive and indistinct there are images. In the depths of darkness there is essence; this essence is utterly real, and within it there is something trustworthy.’ Why does he say that it is real and trustworthy only when speaking of essence?”

The master replied, “The sage says that there is something formed in undifferentiated wholeness, existing before Heaven and Earth. This thing born before Heaven and Earth is the image through which the Dao appears. Images appear through Heaven and Earth, while Heaven and Earth take shape because of this undifferentiated thing. Things are formed through the wondrous blending and condensation of the refined Qi of Yin and Yang. Thus, the refined Qi of Yin and Yang is the substance of the Dao, while images and things are its workings.”

Someone asked, “‘Be watchful and cautious where nothing can be seen’: the four phrases, such as ‘looking without seeing,’ make apt comparisons. It would be even better to illustrate this with words from the Confucian tradition. Teacher, please offer a phrase.”

The teacher replied, “The first two phrases mean that even when alone, with no one around, one should always remain sincere. The last two mean that even when face-to-face with others, one should guard against the unexpected.” Someone followed up, “It would be even better to use words from the Confucian tradition as an illustration. Teacher, please offer another phrase.” The teacher answered, “The Book of Songs says, ‘Heaven moves without sound or scent.’ Sincerity cannot be concealed—is this not to observe the subtle with the utmost care? Though Heaven’s movement offers no sound to hear or scent to detect, the principle of Heaven is plainly manifest, and sincerity cannot, in the end, be concealed.”

Someone asked, “How should we understand the saying, ‘Worry, regret, and the beginnings of error lie at the subtle dividing point’?”

The teacher replied, “‘Jie’ means that the will is firm, as in the saying, ‘My heart is not a stone; it cannot be turned at will.’ Whenever a thought arises in the heart, one must first stay alert to it at its faintest. Once the thought has settled firmly, even the slightest movement becomes a sign that has already begun to appear. How could regret or error then arise? The key is to notice and guard against it early.”

Someone asked, “Do ‘three days before jia and three days after jia’ mean the same thing as ‘three days before geng and three days after geng’?”

The master replied, “No. ‘Gu’ means disorder. If you notice and prepare for trouble before it arises, disorder can be prevented. If you notice only after disorder has set in and then begin to put things right, it can still be remedied. But if you never notice it, the disorder will grow more serious.

“‘Jia’ means a beginning or starting point. To notice something and prepare for it three days before it happens is called ‘before jia’; to reflect and make corrections three days after it happens is called ‘after jia.’ If you wait longer to notice, then you have not noticed in time.

“‘Before geng’ and ‘after geng’ appear in the ninth five line of the Xun hexagram in the Book of Changes. Xun means wind and also symbolizes the commands of Heaven’s Mandate. When government orders are changed, the people may lose trust. So one must wait until the day of Si to win their confidence. If, three days before changing an order, you first explain its benefits and drawbacks, then make the change, the people will comply and trust it. Three days after the change, issue further reminders so that they will gladly do good.

“Counting from jia to wu and ji brings you to the midpoint; geng lies beyond the midpoint. Going beyond the midpoint signals change, which is why it is called ‘geng.’ ‘Geng’ means alteration and renewal.”

My master said, “It is not that the Dao cannot be spoken of; the question is how the Dao should be spoken of. Go on, tell me.” I shared my thoughts with him, and he approved. Then he asked, “If the Dao cannot be spoken of or named, how do you intend to speak of it?” I replied, “I have made a hesitant attempt, but I fear my understanding is shallow. I ask you to guide me.”

My master said, “The Dao that emerges from the source of things as they naturally are cannot be spoken of. The Dao originally has no name. Calling it ‘Dao’ is merely forcing a name onto what cannot be named. What emerges from the Dao and can be discussed is the Dao that can be spoken of. Once it can be called ‘Dao,’ it has been given a name that can be named. What cannot be spoken of or named is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; what can be spoken of and named is the source of the myriad things. To perceive the beginning of Heaven and Earth, one must continually cast aside desires and observe its mysteries. To perceive the source of the myriad things, one must keep one’s attention present and observe the first signs of its manifestation. Within the mysterious lies something still more mysterious, whose origin reaches back to a beginning that cannot be traced. Beyond the visible bounds lies something further still, revealed only through things that can be seen. These two arise from the same beginning, though they have different names; both may be called profound and mysterious.”

My master said, “Long ago, as I sat attending my master Shi’an, he asked me to complete a paired line: ‘The Jing Gate, the Shen Gate, the Qi Gate—three gates converge as one.’” I replied, “The sounds of Heaven, Earth, and humanity—all the myriad sounds resound together.” My master changed the word “resound” to “clear.” Then he asked, “What line would you pair with this?” I answered, “The gentle fire, the fierce fire, the fire of wisdom—the work is complete through all the fires.” Here, “gentle fire” and “fierce fire” are metaphors for different methods of cultivation, while “the fire of wisdom” refers to the application of wisdom. The whole line says that various practices together bring cultivation to completion.

My master then said, “I have a couplet: ‘With the awakened, awaken those yet to awaken.’ What would you pair with it?” I replied, “Through outward observation, observe within.” He said, “Change ‘through’ to ‘turn back’; it is better.” The revised line means turning from observing outward to looking inward.

On the night of the Winter Solstice, my master said, “Yang energy is first born and the cycle begins anew. For this reason, the ancient kings closed their gates and rested in stillness on the day of the Winter Solstice.” This alludes to the idea in the Book of Changes that a single Yang line first arises at the Winter Solstice. He asked me to compose a paired line. I replied, “The six lines of the Kun hexagram are complete; therefore, the noble person cultivates their work at the proper time.” My master approved.

One day, speaking before everyone, my master said, “The heart of change in the Changes, as understood by the sages of old, is the key.” He asked me to pair it with a line. Again I replied, “The six lines of the Kun hexagram are complete; therefore, the noble person cultivates their work at the proper time.” My master approved.

One day, the master said to everyone, “When the ancient sages changed their minds, people in later generations changed theirs as well. Each of you, offer a matching couplet.” I replied, “The Shen and Qi within our bodies are originally the Qi and Shen of the primordial beginning.” Zhan Zai said, “Isn’t the true nature of the Great Beginning the very same true nature we have today?” The master said, “I have a couplet of my own. Listen carefully.” He said, “The scriptures young people read are originally the same as the books Laozi kept.” No one could answer.

The master then asked, “The lungs belong to Metal, and Metal naturally sinks. Why, then, do they rise? The liver belongs to Wood, and Wood naturally rises. Why, then, does it sink?” No one could answer. The master said, “The lungs receive Qi and thereby contain Yi Wood. Because Wood is within the lungs, the lungs rise. The liver receives Qi and thereby contains Geng Metal. Because Metal is within the liver, the liver sinks.

“From the perspective of the trigrams, Dui belongs to Metal, whose nature is to sink. Yet Metal gives rise to Water, first in the north—that is, Kan. The true Fire within Kan rises upward, and so Metal floats. Zhen belongs to Wood, whose nature is to rise. Zhen is solid below because Wood gives rise to Fire, second in the south—that is, Li. The true Water within Li descends, and so Wood sinks.

“From the perspective of substances used in alchemy, lead belongs to Metal and naturally sinks, but rises when it meets Fire; this is why it is called floating. Mercury belongs to Wood and naturally rises, but sinks when it meets Water; this is why it is called sinking. In terms of symbolic images used to explain Neidan cultivation, the moon belongs to Kan and naturally sinks, but rises after Fire is advanced. The sun belongs to Li and naturally rises, but sinks after the talismanic cycle is withdrawn. The ancients said, ‘The sun reddens at the bottom of the pool, and yin demons vanish,’ speaking of sinking through Water; and, ‘The moon shines white atop the mountain, and the medicinal sprout is newly born,’ speaking of rising through Qi.

“In sum, when Metal is empty, it floats; when Wood is full, it sinks. That is the principle.”

The Master said, “How do you understand these expressions: the master within the master, the guest within the guest, the master within the guest, and the guest within the master?” No one could grasp the hidden point behind his words. Zhan Zai replied, “The body beyond the body is the master within the master; the dream within the dream is the guest within the guest; one’s nature within one’s emotions is the master within the guest; one’s emotions within one’s nature are the guest within the master.” The Master said, “That comes somewhat close.”

I replied, “I attend only to myself, while he goes on about others. He comes to direct me, and I in turn make use of him. That is what is meant by the body beyond the body as the master within the master, the dream within the dream as the guest within the guest, one’s nature within one’s emotions as the master within the guest, and one’s emotions within one’s nature as the guest within the master.” The Master said, “That also comes somewhat close.”

I answered again, “I attend only to myself, while he goes on about others. He comes to direct me, and I in turn make use of him. That is what it means.” The Master said, “You still have not fully understood.” I replied, “Beyond the mind there is no other mind: this is the master within the master. A thought arising within a thought is the guest within the guest. To become aware before a thought has stirred is the master within the guest. To become aware only after a thought has stirred is the guest within the master.” The Master said, “Explaining it through movement and stillness is the most apt. To remain settled in stillness even in the utmost stillness is the master within the master; to move and move again is the guest within the guest. To remain steadfast while in motion is the master within the guest; to have the mind and spirit scattered while in stillness is the guest within the master.”

The Master asked, “Qian has four qualities. How many does Kun have?” I replied, “Kun also has four.” The Master said, “That answer is not quite complete.” Kun shares the three qualities of “Originating, Prospering, and Benefiting” with Qian; only the quality of “Persevering” differs. Kun must follow and receive before its quality of Perseverance can appear, so it is called “the perseverance of the mare”—the mare symbolizes yielding yet steadfast correctness. The mare is yielding, yet able to travel with strength; that is the meaning.

The Master asked again, “Qian has four qualities. How many does Kun have?” I replied, “Kun also has four.” The Master said, “That answer is not quite complete. Kun shares ‘Originating, Prospering, and Benefiting’ with Qian; only ‘Persevering’ differs. Kun displays this quality only after following and receiving, which is why it is called ‘the perseverance of the mare.’ The mare is yielding yet travels with strength—that is precisely the point.”

The Master asked, “How many kinds of virtue does the Zhun hexagram embody?” I replied, “The words ‘great beginning, smooth progress, advantage, and constancy’ in its Judgment are the same as those used for the Qian hexagram, but the virtues they express are not the same.” The Master asked, “How do they differ?” I thought for a while but could not answer. The Master said, “If the virtues were the same, it would not be called difficulty at the beginning. ‘Great beginning and smooth progress’ means that, at its root, there is a principle of great success. ‘Advantage and constancy’ means that what is advantageous lies in holding firmly to the right path. If you cannot remain upright and steadfast, you will not be able to escape difficulty at the beginning—so how could you speak of smooth progress? If you can preserve the principle of smooth progress inherent in you, you can pass through difficulty at the beginning.”

The Master asked, “What does ‘In the southwest, find companions; in the northeast, lose companions’ mean?” I thought it over but still could not answer. The Master smiled and said, “You still do not understand. When Yin, the receptive, gains companions of its own kind, Yin energy grows ever stronger, and people are more easily thrown into confusion. That is why this is said to mean losing the constant Way. The northeast is the position of Yang. There, Yin companions are lost, so holding firmly to the right path brings good fortune. Yin follows Yang, and this is the principle by which the myriad things come into being; that is why it is said to mean returning to the constant Way. If a resolute and vigorous will cuts off delusive thoughts, where could thoughts arise from? To cut off thoughts and desires is also to lose companions of the Yin kind; therefore, holding firmly to the right path brings good fortune. Yin follows Yang, and this is the principle of generation; that is why it is said to mean returning to the constant Way. Who could grasp this principle, if not someone of the greatest clarity and understanding in the world?”

The Master asked, “All six lines of the Qian hexagram are auspicious. Why?” I replied, “Because of the results that come from being humble and placing oneself below others.” The Master then asked, “Every line speaks of humility. Why does the fifth line not mention it?”

The fifth line occupies the ruler’s position. It cannot be excessively humble, or it will lose its authority. That is why its statement says that one may send out an army to punish others, and that everything is favorable. Those who cultivate the Dao should also balance firmness with gentleness; they must not become too yielding.

“What does it mean to ‘not go against Heaven before birth, and to follow Heaven’s timing after birth’?” The answer was: “Before birth is called ‘before Heaven,’ so there is nothing to go against. After birth is called ‘after Heaven,’ so one should follow Heaven’s timing.” The Master said: “One may also compare ‘early awareness’ to what is before Heaven: it arises naturally. ‘Later awareness’ may be compared to what is after Heaven: it arises from necessity. What arises naturally does not go against Heaven’s principle. When necessity compels me, I would not dare go against Heaven’s will either. That is why one must follow Heaven’s timing.”

The Master said: “When joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure have not yet emerged, this is called ‘the Center.’ When they emerge and each is expressed in due measure, this is called ‘harmony.’” This originally means not going against Heaven’s principle. When necessity compels us, we dare not go against Heaven’s will, so this is called following Heaven’s timing.

The Master asked everyone: “When joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure are about to arise but have not yet emerged, how should you experience them?” After a long silence, someone answered. The Master said: “They have already emerged.” I remained silent. The Master then said: “This is what it means for them not yet to have emerged.” I answered again. The Master approved: “Keep this understanding for your own use. I fear it may lead later generations astray; only those who realize it for themselves can truly put it to use.”

End of Volume One of Recorded Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi.

Volume Two of Recorded Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi, compiled by the disciple Ding’an Zhao Daoke.

Essentials of the Dao and De

Qing’an lectured Daoke on The Complete Meaning of the Dao and De. At the time, all the disciples listened together, receiving nourishment like the transmission of Dharma milk, and grasping the scripture’s meaning beyond words. Their insights and accounts have now been gathered into a text, so that kindred seekers may study and enlighten one another. Since its essentials must be grasped with the heart and understood through intention, it is called Essentials of the Heart.

The Master said: “The word ‘Dao’ belongs neither to the realm of statements nor to the realm beyond statements; neither to the realm of forms and images nor to the realm beyond forms and images. How do you understand this?” Ding’an said: “Hah!” Hei’an gave a shout.

The master asked, “If ‘Dharma’—the principles of practice—and ‘De’—the virtue revealed by following the Dao—belong neither to deliberate cultivation nor to complete non-cultivation, what counts as the proper approach?” Heyan replied, “Do what is Wuwei (non-action).” Ding’an brought this up for the assembly.

The master said, “In all the various methods, leave language behind and enter samadhi, a state of focused stillness. Bring out your own scripture.” Heyan wrote in the air, while Cheng’an clenched his fist.

The master said, “The final line of chapter one of the Dao De Jing says, ‘Mystery upon mystery: the gate to all wonders.’ I believe all thirty-six revered scriptures flow from this one. Tell me, what does this mean?” Cheng’an clenched his fist.

The master continued, “The final line of chapter one says, ‘Mystery upon mystery: the gate to all wonders.’ I believe all thirty-six revered scriptures flow from this one. Where, then, does this scripture itself flow from? Speak a word apart from the mouth given you by your parents.” Heyan mimed opening a scripture, and Ding’an gave a loud shout.

The master said, “Chapter two speaks of ‘being and nonbeing giving rise to each other.’ So how would you speak of the phrase that falls into neither being nor nonbeing?” If you can answer, you fall into hell as swiftly as an arrow; if you cannot, you fall just as swiftly. The assembly brought this up for discussion, but no one reached the point. Cheng’an asked, “What would be fitting?” The master replied, “Just so, just so.”

The master said, “The concluding line of chapter three says, ‘Practice non-action, and nothing will remain undone.’ If it speaks of non-action, why does it use the word ‘practice’? If what comes first is action, how can what follows be called non-action?” Ding’an replied, “Essence and function are both present.” Weian said, “Right in the midst of this functioning, one is also apart from it.”

The master said, “At the phrase ‘before the Lord of Heaven’ in chapter four, if you explain it with your mouth, your tongue will wear away; if you look at it with your eyes, your eyeballs will bulge. Draw in your radiance and remain silent, and you will be just in time to receive a blow from the staff. How do you understand it?” Li, the supervisor of the monastery kitchen, brought up the phrase, and Shian drew a circle.

The master said, “Chapter five says, ‘The space between Heaven and Earth is like a bellows.’” The master composed a verse: “What has no bottom is called a ‘bellows’; what has three holes is called a ‘key’; between them, it seems there is an opening.” Shian drew a circle.

The teacher said, “Chapter Five: Is not the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows?” Then he recited a verse: “The bottomless one is called the tuó; the one with three openings is called the yuè. There is a small opening in the middle, yet no one can reach it. It plays a wordless melody for you. Tell me, what is this opening?” Heyi’an said, “Look at the nostrils at dusk.” Shiyan said, “Chanting.” Asked again, “What is the wordless melody?” the teacher answered for him: “Singing silently in the blue sky.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Six: The Gate of the Mysterious Female—the wondrous gate of generation and transformation.” He continued, “When exhaling, do not entangle yourself in thoughts and concerns; when inhaling, do not linger in the realm of Yin. Neither going out nor coming in—how do you understand this?” Heyi’an said, “Stillness without movement.” The teacher himself said, “All sounds have grown clear and still.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Seven: Precisely because one has no private concerns, one can fulfill oneself. A practitioner who cares only for himself is acting from self-interest; one who seeks to save all sentient beings is bound by attachment. So how should one speak without falling into either self-interest or attachment?” Ding’an said, “Put others before oneself.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Eight: The highest good is like water.” He added, “Set this thing down, and the Yellow River will clear again and again. Tell me, where should this thing be placed?” Ding’an and Heyi’an each answered with an example.

The teacher said, “Chapter Nine: When your work is done and your name has become prominent, withdraw—this is the Way of Heaven. Tell me, where should you withdraw to? Where should this thing be placed?” Ding’an and Heyi’an each answered with an example.

The teacher then said, “Chapter Nine: When your work is done and your name has become prominent, withdraw—this is the Way of Heaven. Tell me, where should you withdraw to?” Ding’an said, “Give a shout into empty space, and leave no trace.” Heyi’an said, “There is nowhere to go.” The teacher said, “Neither answer is right.” Someone asked, “What would be right?” The teacher said, “Let the two feet open and close like a bellows, and hide the Northern Dipper.” This was a cryptic Chan-style response.

The teacher said, “Chapter Ten: Carrying the hun and po together—the body and souls in union.” He then asked, “The po likes to run about and be active; it also delights in strength and courage. How can it be brought into order? To try deliberately to bring it into order is to fall into attachment; to make no effort to bring it into order leaves it beyond control. What, then, should one do?” Heyi’an snapped his fingers.

The teacher said, “Chapter Eleven: Thirty spokes converge at a single hub; it is because the center is empty that the wheel is useful. Tell me, before the spokes converge at the hub, where is the wheel?” Heyi’an said, “The wheel turns without ceasing.” Ding’an made a gesture as if pushing a cart.

The Master referred to Chapter 12 of the Dao De Jing, “The five colors blind the eye,” and asked, “When you leave appearances behind and close your eyes, what do you see? Where is the cart?” Hui’an replied, “The wheels are still turning.” Ding’an struck a pose as though pushing a cart.

The Master again quoted, “The five colors blind the eye,” and asked, “How do you understand leaving appearances behind?” Hui’an replied, “Seeing as though not seeing.” This means that the mind is not pulled along by the forms and colors it sees.

The Master referred to Chapter 13 of the Dao De Jing, “Prize great trouble as you would your own body,” and asked, “With a body comes trouble; without a body, how could one perceive the Dao? What, then, is the answer?” Ding’an replied, “Let go.” Hui’an replied, “Nurture the state without form or appearance.” This means cultivating that formless, imageless state.

The Master referred to Chapter 14 of the Dao De Jing, “Look for it, and it cannot be seen,” and asked, “There is no gap through which to find it. How do you understand this?” Shian replied, “It is as whole and undifferentiated as an egg.” The Master said, “Not quite.” Someone asked the Master what he would say. He replied, “Face to face, yet neither recognizes the other.”

The Master referred to Chapter 15 of the Dao De Jing, “Subtle, mysterious, and profound, it cannot be fathomed,” and asked, “To sound the depth of water, you use a pole; to sound a person, you use words. What should you use to sound the Dao?” Ding’an and Hui’an both replied, “Face to face, yet neither recognizes the other.”

The Master asked the same question again. Ding’an and Hui’an both raised their fists. The Master said, “You have both received the same charge.” He meant that both men were punished for the same offense.

The Master referred to Chapter 16 of the Dao De Jing, “Reach the utmost emptiness; hold fast to stillness. As the myriad things arise together, I watch their return,” and said, “I think that when things return, one can see the mind of Heaven. Tell me, where is the mind of Heaven?” He then added, “Don’t move. Move once, and you’ll each get thirty blows.” Ding’an snatched away the staff.

The Master referred to Chapter 17 of the Dao De Jing, “The highest ruler is scarcely known by those below,” and said, “It belongs neither to the realm of forms nor to the realm of the formless. Do you wish to see your own Supreme One—the highest state of original truth? Why don’t you answer?” The Master then said, “The one speaking the Dharma right now is it.”

The Master referred to Chapter 18 of the Dao De Jing, “When wisdom appears, great hypocrisy arises,” and said, “Cleverness and calculation lead people to lose their roots; excessive use of wisdom makes them lose their natural, original truth. How do you understand this?” Zhian replied, “Wuwei (non-action).” Sun’an replied, “Wisdom is no match for simple, uncarved naïveté.”

The master said, “Chapter Nineteen speaks of ‘abandoning sagehood and discarding wisdom.’ How do you understand this?” Ding’an said, “Forget where you came from.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty speaks of ‘wisdom lost, natural innocence gone.’ How do you understand this?” Zhi’an said, “Wuwei (non-action).” Sun’an said, “Wisdom is no match for simple, uncarvedness.”

The master again asked, “Chapter Nineteen speaks of ‘abandoning sagehood and discarding wisdom.’ How do you understand this?” Ding’an again said, “Forget where you came from.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty speaks of ‘cutting off learning and having no worries.’ What do you call ‘cutting off learning’?” Hei’an said, “It is like trying to tie up the wind with a rope or catch a shadow with your hand.” The master said, “Not deliberately seeking learning is also a kind of learning; it can encompass the mistakes everyone makes.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-One speaks of things, images, and forms of feeling. Do these truly exist? If you say they come from existence, investigate your own original mind. If you say they come from nonexistence, investigate your own original mind as well. What, then, should you say?” Hei’an said, “Neither existence nor nonexistence touches it; there is only one true original reality.” Sun’an drew a circle to answer.

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Two says, ‘Bend and you will be preserved; curve and you will be made straight.’ Timber lives long because it is not useful, while a goose is cooked because it is not useful. How should we understand this?” No one answered. The master said, “Whether useful or useless, one must accord with the times.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Three says, ‘Few words accord with nature.’ Remaining silent has already fallen into the second rank. What is the first rank?” Everyone answered, but no one got to the heart of it. The master said, “When you speak, the point is not on the tongue.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Four says, ‘Standing on tiptoe is unsteady; taking long strides will not get you far.’ How do you understand this?” Ding’an said, “The key to taking a step is not in the heel.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Five speaks of ‘something formed in a state of undifferentiated wholeness.’ What is this thing?” Ding’an offered an explanation. The master then said, “Between Heaven and Earth there are four great beings. Is there anything greater than they are?” Hei’an gave a shout in reply.

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Six: He who acts lightly loses his ministers; he who presses forward rashly loses his ruler.” He then asked, “What can be said of one who is neither light nor rash?” Ding’an replied, “When the Great Dao is put into practice, the world is clear and peaceful.” Heian replied, “Keep nourishing your inborn nature.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Seven: One skilled at walking leaves no trace. Do you understand these words?” Ding’an replied, “When the Great Dao is put into practice, the world is clear and peaceful.” Heian replied, “Keep nourishing your inborn nature.”

The master again said, “Chapter Twenty-Seven: One skilled at walking leaves no trace. Do you understand?” Heian replied, “A person of great strength does not even lift their feet.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Eight: Keeping to darkness, softness, and disgrace is the function; the Unbounded, the Uncarved Simplicity—the natural state before carving—and the innocence of an infant are the substance. When the uncarved simplicity is divided, it forms all kinds of implements. How do you understand this?” Ding’an replied, “All things continually grow and change.”

The master said, “Chapter Twenty-Nine: Whoever seeks to take possession of the world, I see, will find it difficult to succeed if they deliberately set out to do so. I think this statement is wrong. Tell me, where does the problem lie?” Ding’an replied, “The problem lies in ‘deliberate action.’”

The master said, “Chapter Thirty: Those who assist a ruler through the Dao do not use military force to dominate the world.” He then asked, “If enemy forces invade, how should they be resisted?” Heian replied, “Transform them through the power of De.” The master said, “Better to protect them with compassion.”

The master said, “Chapter Thirty-One: Fine weapons are instruments of ill omen.” He then asked, “Without weapons, it is impossible to resist the enemy; using weapons, however, goes against the Dao. What is the right course?” Ding’an replied, “Act contrary to ordinary expectations, and guide others by responding to change.”

The master said, “Chapter Thirty-Two: The Dao forever follows its own nature and does nothing through force. Though the uncarved simplicity is small, the world does not dare treat it as a subject.” He then asked, “How should we understand the phrase ‘though the uncarved simplicity is small’?” Ding’an replied, “A mustard seed can contain Mount Sumeru.” This is a metaphor for the vast being contained within the small. Heian replied, “Though it occupies a low place, nothing can surpass it.”

The master again said, “Chapter Thirty-Two: The Dao forever follows its own nature and does nothing through force. Though the uncarved simplicity is small, the world does not dare treat it as a subject.” He then asked, “How should we understand the phrase ‘though the uncarved simplicity is small’?” Ding’an replied, “A mustard seed can contain Mount Sumeru.” Heian replied, “Though it occupies a low place, nothing can surpass it.”

The master said, “Chapter Thirty-Three: Only when the body dies but the spirit does not perish can one be called long-lived.” He then asked, “What is it that does not perish?” Heian replied, “That which exists within nothingness.” Mi’an replied, “Empty, luminous awareness and spiritual perception, never clouded or confused.”

The Master said, “Chapter 34 of the Dao De Jing says, ‘The sage does not regard himself as great, and so he is able to accomplish greatness.’” The Master asked, “What does it mean not to regard oneself as great?” He’an replied, “Vigorously flourishing, entering through the pearl’s opening.” The Master said, “The highest goodness is like water.”

The Master said, “Chapter 35 of the Dao De Jing speaks of ‘holding to the Great Image’—grasping the complete form of the Great Dao.” The Master asked, “If we say it has a form, it cannot be vast; if we say it has no form, how can it be grasped?” He’an replied, “A world within a millet-seed pearl.” (The pearl is as tiny as a grain of millet; the saying means that even the tiniest thing contains a vast world.) The Master said, “The highest goodness is like water.”

The Master said, “Chapter 35 of the Dao De Jing speaks of ‘holding to the Great Image.’ If we say it has a form, it cannot be vast; if we say it has no form, how can it be grasped?” He’an replied, “A world within a millet-seed pearl.” The Master said, “Precisely because it seems unwilling to reveal itself, it appears vast.”

The Master said, “Chapter 36 of the Dao De Jing says, ‘If you wish to gather something in, you must first let it expand.’” The Master asked, “The eyelashes above your brows have long since missed their mark. Tell me, where did they go astray?” Ding’an replied, “Right before your eyes.” He’an said, “Don’t go running around.” The Master said, “I accept the charge”—meaning that he accepted the punishment this time.

The Master said, “Chapter 37 of the Dao De Jing says, ‘The Dao is constantly Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing is left undone.’” The Master said, “I have composed a verse: ‘All deliberate action is illusion; non-action falls into emptiness. Neither path do I enter—please, each of you, offer another line.’” He’an replied, “Face to face, yet never meeting.” Zhian said, “Remain steadfastly within it.” Mian’an said, “Spontaneously, it possesses great spiritual power.” The Master said, “Here and now, the essential meaning of the school is being proclaimed.”

The Master said, “Chapter 38 of the Dao De Jing says, ‘One of highest De (Virtue/Power) does not regard oneself as having De, and so truly has De.’” The Master asked, “What is meant by De?” He’an replied, “Not treating what one already has as one’s own.” The Master said, “Do not boast of yourself.”

The Master said, “Chapter 39 of the Dao De Jing says, ‘Of old, those who attained the Dao and became one with the One—through them, Heaven became clear.’” The Master asked, “Tell me, where is ‘attaining the One’?” He’an replied, “In the place of Wuwei.” The Master said, “Better still, in the place of uselessness.”

The Master said, “The final line of Chapter 40 of the Dao De Jing…” The Master then asked again, “Tell me, where is ‘attaining the One’?” He’an replied, “In the place of Wuwei.” The Master said, “Better still, in the place of uselessness.”

The master said, “The last line of Chapter 40 says: All things under heaven arise from ‘being,’ and ‘being’ arises from ‘nonbeing.’” The master then asked, “What is there beyond ‘nonbeing’ and ‘being’?” Hei’an said, “There is such a principle. I’ll hold it up for you to see.”

The master said, “Chapter 41 says: When people of the lowest kind hear of the Great Dao, they laugh.” The master asked, “What are they laughing at?” Hei’an cited a line: “This is what they laugh at.” Mian’an said, “They are laughing at Wuwei (non-action).”

The master said, “Chapter 42 says: Sometimes reducing brings benefit; sometimes increasing brings harm.” The master asked, “What is it like when there is neither reduction nor increase?” Hei’an said, “There is neither lack nor excess.” The master said, “Split open the undivided whole.”

The master said, “Chapter 43 says: The softest thing under heaven can master the hardest thing under heaven.” The master continued, “When things come, do not contend with them. Once they have passed, the mind is cool and at peace. What is this state of coolness?” Hei’an said, “There is no distress or burning agitation.” The master said, “Nor is there any ignorance that obscures wisdom.”

The master said, “Chapter 44 asks: Which is closer to you, your reputation or your body? Which is more, your wealth or your possessions?” Chuanlao said, “If you can make use of the treasure within your own home, cawing crows and mountain flowers will seem equally fresh.” What is the treasure within one’s own home? Hei’an said, “Li-li-luo.” Ding’an gave a shout. The master said, “First among these is compassion.”

The master said, “Chapter 45. The previous chapter says that knowing contentment keeps you from disgrace, and knowing when to stop keeps you from danger. It speaks of being content at all times. This chapter says that the greatest achievement seems flawed, and the fullest state seems empty. It speaks of ‘insufficiency.’ There are fifteen more chapters below. The previous chapter says that contentment prevents disgrace and knowing when to stop prevents danger; it speaks of always being content. This chapter says that great completion seems flawed and great fullness seems empty; it speaks of insufficiency. So which is right: having enough or lacking enough?” Sun’an and Zhi’an said, “Self-satisfaction brings loss, while humility brings gain.” The master said, “When one has more than enough virtue yet appears lacking, one can live a long life. When one has more than enough wealth yet appears lacking, one will be regarded as mean. That is why it is said this way.”

The master said, “Chapter 46 says: No transgression is greater than indulging desire.” The master continued, “Only by not looking at things that stir desire can you keep the mind from becoming disordered. Turn back quickly, and half the work is already done. Now, where is the other half?” Ding’an said, “Right where you are, in this very moment.”

The Master said, “At the end of Chapter Forty-Seven, it says: ‘You cannot see it, yet you may call it “name”; without action, things come to completion naturally.’” The Master asked, “What is called a ‘name’? And what is brought to completion?” Ding’an and Hei’an both replied, “Virtue is brought to completion; this is called the Dao.”

The Master said, “Chapter Forty-Eight says: ‘In pursuing learning, knowledge increases day by day; in cultivating the Dao, desires diminish day by day.’” The Master asked, “What increases? What diminishes?” Ding’an said, “Diminish oneself and benefit others.” Hei’an asked, “What diminishes?” Ding’an and Hei’an both replied, “Virtue is brought to completion; this is called the Dao.”

The Master again said, “Chapter Forty-Eight says: ‘In pursuing learning, knowledge increases day by day; in cultivating the Dao, desires diminish day by day.’” The Master asked, “What increases? What diminishes?” Ding’an said, “Diminish oneself and benefit others.” Hei’an said, “Diminish sensual desires and increase one’s original nature.”

The Master said, “Chapter Forty-Nine.” (There is no text following this.)

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty says: ‘Among people, three out of ten belong to those who follow life, and three out of ten belong to those who follow death.’” The Master said, “The mind of Nirvana—the serene state that transcends life and death and clings to nothing—is easy to understand, but wisdom that discerns distinctions is difficult to grasp. What is wisdom that discerns distinctions?” No one answered. The Master said, “The benevolent speak of benevolence; the wise speak of wisdom.” The Master then asked, “What is the mind of Nirvana?” No one answered again. The Master said, “Before it, there was no ancient past; after it, there is no present.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-One says: ‘The Dao gives birth to and nurtures all things; De sustains and nourishes them.’” The Master asked, “What gives birth and nurtures? What sustains and nourishes?” Shian said, “Is this mind of Nirvana what the Dao gives birth to and De sustains?” No one answered. The Master said, “Before it, there was no ancient past; after it, there is no present.”

The Master again said, “Chapter Fifty-One says: ‘The Dao gives birth to and nurtures all things; De sustains and nourishes them.’” The Master asked, “What gives birth and nurtures? What sustains and nourishes?” Shian said, “This is what gives birth and nurtures, sustains and nourishes.” The Master said, “You are still a little short.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Two says: ‘The world has a beginning that can serve as the source of all things in the world.’ Chapter One also says: ‘What has a name is the mother of all things.’ What is this ‘name’ called?” No one could answer. Cheng’an asked, “What name should we give it?” The Master called out, “Cheng’an!” Cheng’an answered. The Master said, “You have already given it a name.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Three says: ‘If I had even a little understanding, walking on the great Dao, what I would fear most is straying from it.’” The Master asked, “What do you fear?” Hei’an said, “Going against Heaven’s mandate.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Four is about ‘observing one country by looking at another.’” He continued, “It is not easy to observe a country, and observing your own body and mind is harder still. When the sea dries up, you can eventually see its bed; when a person dies, no one knows what was in their heart. Is there anyone who truly understands the human heart?” No one gave an answer that got to the point. Cheng’an asked, “Master, do you understand the human heart?” The Master replied, “Who is asking?”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty speaks of how ‘when the sea dries up, you can eventually see its bed, but when a person dies, no one knows what was in their heart.’ Is there anyone who truly understands the human heart?” No one gave an answer that got to the point. Cheng’an asked, “Master, do you understand the human heart?” The Master replied, “Who is asking?”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Five says that a person of profound De is like a newborn infant.” He asked, “Is this what Mencius meant when he said, ‘A great person does not lose the heart of an infant’? Then is the infant’s heart one that has already manifested, or one that has yet to manifest?” He’an said, “It is pure and undivided.” Ding’an said, “It is still and unmoving.” The Master said, “You have not yet reached the point. You do not know that returning to the origin is precisely the working of the Dao.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Six says that one who understands does not speak readily, while one who talks without stopping does not truly understand.” He asked, “Is it right to speak, or is it right to remain silent?” The group’s answers missed the point. The Master said, “This mouth given to you by your parents will never speak the matter through for you.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Seven says: govern the state by the right way, use expedience in war, and gain all under Heaven through Wuwei (non-action).” He asked, “How can you gain all under Heaven by doing nothing at all? And if you do nothing at all, how can you gain it?” No one could answer. The Master said, “Guide the people through virtue.”

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Eight … The final line says, ‘Bright, yet not dazzling.’ How should we understand it?” The group fell silent. The Master said, “Wear coarse cloth on the outside and keep jade within.” This means possessing De inwardly without displaying it.

The Master said, “Chapter Fifty-Nine says that in governing the people and serving the Way of Heaven, the most important thing is restraint and reserve.” He asked, “How should we understand this?” Zhi’an said, “Thrift.” The Master said, “Begin with thrift.”

The Master said, “Chapter Sixty says that when the world is governed by the Dao, even spirits and ghosts cannot display their supernatural powers. How should we explain this?” He’an said, “They have no chance to show what they can do.” Ding’an said, “Evil cannot disturb what is right.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-One: A great state is like a low-lying riverbed.” He added, “Simply extend the hand of Wuwei (non-action), and you can bring peace to the world without taking up arms.” What is the “hand of Wuwei”? Heyi’an said, “Overturn the Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism).” Cheng’an said, “Shatter the void.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Two: Can those who are guilty be spared?” He asked, “Where does the fault lie?” Ding’an said, “Go looking for the fault, and you find it cannot be found.” The teacher tossed down the scripture and said, “Stop turning its pages and guessing at its meaning.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Three: Tackle the difficult while it is still easy.” He said, “To call it easy is not easy; to call it difficult still falls short of what cannot truly be grasped.” The teacher tossed down the scripture and said, “Stop turning its pages and guessing at its meaning.”

The teacher again said, “Chapter Sixty-Three: Tackle the difficult while it is still easy.” He said, “To call it easy is not easy; to call it difficult is not difficult either. Speak another line about the wonder within this.” Heyi’an said, “It is right there in the middle.” Shian said, “It has never left the Mysterious Pass, the inner pivotal point in cultivation.” The teacher said, “Face south and look at the Northern Dipper.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Four: What is at rest is easy to hold.” He asked, “How do you all understand this?” Heyi’an said, “Guard against things when they are still subtle, and stop them as soon as they begin to emerge.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Five: Those of old who were skilled in practicing the Dao did not seek to make the people clever, but to keep them simple.” He said, “Every method of deliberate action, every one of the three thousand six hundred paths: examine them thoroughly from beginning to end, and in the end they amount only to restless thought and wasted effort. I alone hold fast to the nameless, unadorned nature. Letting the many demons appear, I let them all fall away. Do you understand?” Ding’an said, “Once you settle on something, you are no longer in accord with the Dao.” Heyi’an tossed down the scripture.

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Six: The reason rivers and seas can be kings of the hundred streams is that they are skilled at staying below them.” He asked, “Tell me: are the rivers and seas lower than the hundred streams, or do the hundred streams flow into the rivers and seas?” Heyi’an said, “Gathering and dispersal ultimately return to the One.” Ding’an said, “Those above yield; those below comply.” The teacher said, “Lower still, lower still, lower still.”

The teacher said, “Chapter Sixty-Seven: Abandon compassion and pursue boldness; abandon frugality and pursue grandeur; abandon yielding and compete to be first—and you will meet your death.” He asked, “Could there be no boundless sea?” Heyi’an said, “Gathering and dispersal ultimately return to the One.” Ding’an said, “Those above yield; those below comply.” The teacher said, “Lower still, lower still, lower still.”

The Master said, “Chapter Sixty-Seven says: Abandon compassion and act with brute force, abandon frugality and crave excess, abandon yielding and scramble to get ahead, and you will meet your ruin.” The Master continued, “Do not drink the Water of Ignorance. Tell me, what is the Water of Ignorance?” Ding’an replied, “The land sinks for no reason.” Hei’an replied, “Waves rise though there is no wind.” Here, “Water of Ignorance” is a metaphor for deluded thoughts and afflictions arising from ignorance. The answers describe confusion arising in the mind without cause.

The Master said, “Chapter Sixty-Eight says: One who is skilled as a commander does not show off courage or fight fiercely.” The Master continued, “Neither favoring the civil nor the martial, with no thought of gain or loss, touch your own nostrils and your whole body will break into a sweat. Tell me, where were your nostrils before your parents gave birth to you?” Ding’an replied, “Where the breath flows in and out.” Hei’an replied, “Where they open and close.” Shi’an replied, “Just beneath the eyebrows.” The question about the “nostrils” uses the time before one’s birth to ask about one’s original nature and guide contemplation. Each answer points to the breath or a place on the body.

The Master said, “Chapter Sixty-Nine says: One who wages war has a saying: ‘I dare not take the initiative, but would rather take the guest’s position.’ Tell me, how do you distinguish host from guest?” No one answered. The Master said, “Who are you, and who am I?” Then he added, “Two eyes facing two eyes.”

The Master repeated, “Chapter Sixty-Nine says: One who wages war has a saying: ‘I dare not take the initiative, but would rather take the guest’s position.’ Tell me, how do you distinguish host from guest?” No one answered. The Master said, “Who are you, and who am I?” Then he added, “Two eyes facing two eyes.”

The Master said, “Chapter Seventy says: My Dao is easy to understand and easy to practice. Why, then, does it also say that no one can understand it and no one can practice it? If you can offer one incisive sentence on this, your study is complete. If you cannot, keep investigating.” Ding’an replied, “People use it in their daily lives without knowing it.” Hei’an replied, “It is right before them, but people fail to recognize it.” The Master said, “Only because it is so plain and exposed.”

The Master said, “Chapter Seventy-One says: To know that you do not know is wisdom; to not know and yet think you know is a flaw. How should this flaw be cured?” Hei’an replied, “Keep the mind clear and free of obscuration.” The other disciples’ answers were all inappropriate. The Master said, “I will use the nameless uncarved block to settle it.” He added, “Otherwise, it is like swallowing a red-hot iron ball whole.” Then he said, “Those of lesser capacity must take medicine to purge their faulty views and knowledge.”

The Master said, “Chapter Seventy-Two says: When the people no longer fear authority, true authority is about to descend. What is true authority?” Hei’an replied, “Life and death are matters of the utmost importance.” The Master said, “Impermanence comes swiftly.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Three says: ‘Those who dare to act boldly are likely to meet death; those who dare not act recklessly or force their strength can preserve their lives.’ What is the responsive means that can take a person’s life and also save it?” No one answered. The master said, “It is like a king holding a treasured sword.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Four says: ‘Those who take the place of a skilled carpenter to cut wood rarely avoid injuring their own hands.’ How should we understand this means of killing and bringing life?” No one answered. The master said, “It is like a king holding a treasured sword.”

The master said again, “Chapter Seventy-Four says: ‘Those who take the place of a skilled carpenter to cut wood rarely avoid injuring their own hands.’ How should we grasp these words?” Ding’an said, “Because they are not skilled practitioners.”

The master said, “The end of Chapter Seventy-Five says: ‘Only those who do not cling to the pursuit of survival surpass those who value life above all.’ How do you understand this?” Ding’an said, “Because such people do not put themselves in a place of death.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Six says: ‘While alive, the body is soft; after death, it is stiff.’ How should we understand this?” Ding’an said, “Softness and weakness are signs of life.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Seven says: ‘The Way of Heaven takes from what has excess and gives to what is lacking; the way of people takes from what is lacking to serve what has excess.’ Tell me, what is it like when there is neither taking nor giving?” No one could answer. The master said, “Neither too much nor too little: take what is at hand, just enough.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Eight says: ‘Only by bearing the calamities of the state can one become ruler of all under Heaven.’ How should we understand this?” No one answered. The master said, “Having nothing to hide.”

The master said, “Chapter Seventy-Nine says: ‘Even after deep resentment has been resolved, traces of resentment often remain. How can that be called a proper resolution?’ What would you say?” Wei’an said, “Restraint of oneself is goodness.” Ding’an said, “Restraint of oneself, so that one’s words and actions accord with ritual.” He’an said, “Compassion and forbearance are goodness.” The master said, “You have all claimed this teaching as your own.” Someone asked, “What do you say, Master?” The master said, “Forget both kindness and resentment.”

The master said, “The final line of chapter 80 of the Daodejing says, ‘The people grow old and die without visiting one another.’ How should this be understood?” Hey’an said, “Let people live at peace in their own homes.” Ding’an said, “There is no contention.” The master said, “The mind within does not wander outward, and circumstances from outside do not enter the mind.”

The master said, “Chapter 81 of the Daodejing says, ‘The way of the sage is to act without contending.’ What does it mean not to contend?” No one got to the heart of the matter. The master said, “Lay the flagpole in front of the gate on the ground.” He used this Chan-style prompt to remind everyone to let go of attachment and the urge to win.

The master then said, “Each of you, compose a couplet explaining the Dao and De.” Hey’an said, “The Dao is concealed in the workings of all things; De appears in all kinds of benevolent acts.” Ding’an said, “The Dao is not attained through cultivation, and De is not gained through pursuit.” Wei’an said, “The Dao is not another emptiness added to emptiness, and De is not another reality added to what is real.” Shi’an said, “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; the highest De does not consider itself to possess De.” The master said, “The Dao is still and unmoving, yet contains the workings of all things; De appears in all kinds of benevolent acts.” Ding’an, Wei’an, and Shi’an repeated their answers. The master added, “The Dao is still and unmoving, while De can respond to things and bring principles to fulfillment.” He also said, “The Dao is clear, still, and bright; De is modest, gentle, and yielding.”

The master said, “Each of you, compose another couplet explaining the Dao and De of Wuwei (non-action).” No one answered. The master said, “The Dao is like raising a fist in greeting; De is like bowing with lowered head.” Through the gestures of raising a fist and bowing, he illustrated the relationship between the Dao and De.

Pointing to a candle, the master said, “Each of you, compose a couplet explaining this candle’s essence and function.” Hey’an said, “Its essence fills empty space; its function is to dispel darkness.” Shi’an said, “Its essence is perfectly round and unobstructed; its function is to shine with brilliant light.” The master said, “Its essence is unmoving as it is; its function shines brightly.” He also said, “Its essence supports Heaven and Earth; its function lights up Heaven and Earth.”

The master said, “Each of you, compose another couplet explaining the candle’s essence and function without using words.” No one answered. The master demonstrated what he meant, and everyone understood.

End of volume two of the Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi.

Volume three of the Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi

Compiled by Zhizhi Tang Shi’an Miao Shanshi

First entry through the gate of the Zhonghe Hermitage

Compiled by Miaoshan Shi of Zhentang Shian.

On my first visit to the gate of Zhonghe Jingshe An, I encountered a barrier as impassable as a mountain of silver and a wall of iron. Who built this barrier? If you can see through it, you will find that there is, in truth, no opening or closing, no obstruction at all. How, then, should you break through? Qing’an tapped his staff once and said, “Ah! Enter the sacred hall from right here.”

The moment one speaks of the “Golden Palace’s manifested form” (an immortal appearing in a heavenly palace), the heavenly secret has already been revealed. Add an outwardly solemn image, and that becomes a failing in turn. What, then, should one do? Qing’an shouted, “Ha! If you wish to behold the image of a golden full moon, step forward together and enter straight in.”

Pay homage to the sage: supremely compassionate, supremely benevolent, supremely numinous, supremely holy; master of the threshold between life and death, who carries out punishments and commands, washes away defilement and brings forth what is upright, banishes evil and supports the righteous. The wicked receive no reward, and the good seek no response. Even so, the sage still manifests great spiritual powers. Since you have come to Qing’an seeking life and asking to be saved, what else is there to worship? Qing’an said, “Since I am here to receive your obeisance, who would dare show disrespect?”

On the winter solstice, he ascended the hall to expound the scripture.

Qing’an ascended the Dharma seat. After burning incense and reciting the blessing, he raised his staff and said, “The Dao is speechless by nature, and I am not good at saying much. Let me speak through this staff: sometimes it embodies ‘substance’—the root and nature—and sometimes it embodies ‘function’—its action and use.”

Holding the staff horizontally, he asked, “Is this substance or function?” After a pause, he said, “Put it to use, and it can prop up Heaven and support Earth.”

The staff’s powers were unfathomable, its subtle workings beyond measure. The moment he raised it, flying celestial kings, great gods of longevity, and countless deities from the boundless worlds of the ten directions were all put to shame. Even the Old Lord Taishang came beneath the tip of the staff to beg for mercy. Why? Because once power is in your hands, you can issue commands.

Qing’an raised the staff and said, “Everyone, look.” Then he struck with it and said, “This single blow made even empty space leap.” He swirled the staff and said, “A swirl, and chaos melts into oneness.” Then he drew a line with it and said, “A line, and the boundaries between the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—are cut through.” Finally, he brought the staff down on the ground and said, “A strike, and it pierces straight through your nostrils.” Here, “nostrils” is a phrase from Chan sayings, referring to a person’s fundamental opening or point of awakening.

Though the staff had such great powers, not a single person in all Heaven and Earth was truly struck. Why? Qing’an’s staff does not strike the dull-witted. He shouted, “Is there anyone who wants a beating? Come forward.”

Shi’an stepped forward, bowed, and asked, “What does it mean when snow falls at the winter solstice?”

Shi’an stepped forward, bowed, and asked, “What does it mean when it snows at the winter solstice?”

The Master said, “This question is as cold and difficult to unravel as water freezing the instant it drips. You cannot take it as an auspicious sign, but neither can you say it is not one. Without the insight gained through study and practice, you cannot recognize it as an omen of good fortune. But if you have gained deep insight through study and practice, how should you see it?

“Ah! Thunder stirs beneath the earth, and the Qi of Yang begins to arrive. The Plain Maiden and the Blue Youth meet in the Crimson Palace, the body’s inner palace in Daoist teaching. The song ends, the feast disperses, and the clouds and rain fade away; bits of jade scatter through the air. Is this not the snow of the winter solstice month?

“Ah! Do not mistake what you see before you for a state of cultivation. Why? Guard the citadel; you need not seek the winter solstice outside. Within your own body, the moment when Yang first arises is already present. There is a winter solstice in the year, one in each month, one in each day, and one in each hour. The Yang Rising Festival is the winter solstice of the year; the first day of each month is its winter solstice; and Zi hour, the middle of the night, is the winter solstice of the day. Then what is the winter solstice within the body?”

Shí’ān asked his master for instruction. The master said, “The moon rises to the center of the sky, and a clear breeze passes over the water. I imagine few people understand the refined beauty of this scene. Do you understand?” Shí’ān replied, “I do.” The master said, “I’m afraid there may still be something you don’t understand. Do you remember the chapter ‘Reaching the Utmost Void’?” Shí’ān said, “I do.” The master asked him to recite the first four lines. Shí’ān recited, “Reach the utmost point of emptiness and stillness; hold firmly to purity and quietude. I imagine few people understand the refined beauty of this scene.” The master asked, “Do you understand?” Shí’ān replied, “I do.”

The master said again, “I’m still afraid you haven’t grasped it. Do you remember the chapter ‘Reaching the Utmost Void’?” Shí’ān said, “I do.” The master asked him to recite the first four lines once more. This time Shí’ān recited, “Reach the utmost point of emptiness and stillness; hold firmly to purity and quietude. As all things flourish and transform, I observe how they return to their source.” The master said, “Confucius said, ‘Thunder lies hidden within the earth: this is the Return hexagram. The ancient kings closed the passes on the day of the winter solstice, stopped the movement of merchants and travelers, and did not tour the regions.’ This means that in ancient times, emperors closed the passes on the winter solstice and halted the movement of merchants and travelers, allowing the people to reach emptiness and stillness, hold fast to purity and quietude, and wait for the returning Yang Qi. Once Yang Qi is reborn, the four seasons proceed in order and the five grains grow abundantly.

“When Yang returns, people too should remain quiet and steadfast: do not let the conditions within your heart scatter outward, and do not let things from the outside intrude upon it. Wait for the return of Yang. Once Yang Qi is reborn, the body’s Four Great Elements—the earth, water, fire, and wind that make up the human body—settle, and the hundred bones throughout the body come into harmony and flow freely. This is the Way of longevity and enduring vision. Just as today, with snow falling on the winter solstice, merchants and travelers naturally will not set out. Is this not an auspicious sign? Yet every kind of auspicious sign is surpassed by the return of Yang within you, the settling of the Four Great Elements, and the harmony of the hundred bones. Now recite the next four lines.”

Shí’ān recited, “All things flourish and transform in abundance, then each returns to its root. Returning to the root is called stillness; stillness is a return to life’s source.” The master said, “These four lines speak of observing the transformations of all things and understanding that, in the end, they return to their source. Take the Return hexagram, for example: it comes about through the transformation of the Kun hexagram. Kun represents stillness; Yang represents movement. When stillness reaches its utmost, movement begins anew, and the Tianxin—the fundamental principle by which Heaven and Earth bring forth and transform life—becomes manifest.”

Next, recite these four lines: “To return to life’s source is called the constant Dao. To know the constant Dao is to be clear-sighted. If you do not know the constant Dao and act recklessly, you will invite danger.”

The master says: If people can grasp these principles, they can reach directly the realm of what is real and enduring; this is why it is called “clarity.” But when Yang returns—when Yang Qi first arises and life’s source becomes apparent—if one remains ignorant and instead acts as one pleases, one will surely harm the body and lose one’s life. That is why it is called dangerous.

Next, recite these four lines: “Knowing the constant Dao makes the heart broad. When the heart is broad, one can be impartial. Being impartial, one can become the ruler of all. The way of the ruler then accords with the way of Heaven.”

The master says: “Capacity” means broad-mindedness and acceptance; “impartiality” means caring for all things universally. When one reaches a state of perfect impartiality and puts it into practice everywhere, one can become a ruler and a teacher to all, because the principles of the way of Heaven and the human way are connected.

Next, recite the final two lines: “The way of Heaven is the Dao. The Dao endures without end, and throughout one’s life there will be no danger.”

The master says: To embody the way of Heaven and accord with the Dao is to have fully described the way to long life and lasting vision. Beyond this, one must go further still to realize the wonder of the “Patience of Nonarising”—awakening to the truth that all phenomena are unborn, and abiding in stillness. Whoever truly understands this and takes responsibility for it should practice stillness and concentration, reaching the utmost in emptiness and quietude, and firmly maintaining purity and stillness. Then the Heavenly Heart—the original, clear heart—will appear.

Once the Heavenly Heart appears, great light immediately shines forth, illuminating the Three Thousand Great Thousand Worlds, the vast expanse of worlds in the Buddhist cosmos. In every world there are three thousand great thousand lands; in every land there are three thousand great thousand Dharma gates; in every Dharma gate there are three thousand great thousand good teachers; and every good teacher has three thousand great thousand followers. Each follower, too, has the same vision, sees the same Heavenly Heart, and radiates the same light, illuminating the Three Thousand Great Thousand Worlds. In this way, all the people on earth breathe as if through a single nostril, merging into one.

Only then does one understand: every month, every day, and every moment is the winter solstice; today’s winter solstice is just an ordinary day. An ancient sage said, “For the most part, life is nothing but ordinary days, yet living beings are thrown into confusion by endless turmoil.” If the winter solstice is merely an ordinary day, why hold a ritual today? Would that not be unnecessary? Even so, one can only follow local custom and explain things as convention requires. Does anyone understand the purpose of this explanation?

Shian said, “I don’t understand.” The master said, “Then ask me.” Shian asked, “What is the commentary on the Winter Solstice?” The master said, “It is the height of midwinter today. I respectfully greet you and wish you health and well-being, and all things to go smoothly. Do you understand?” Shian said, “I understand.” The master said, “If you understand, why don’t you bow?” Shian bowed. The master said, “Wait a moment; there is a higher principle still.” Shian asked, “What else is there?” The master said, “Qing’an says: auspicious snow is a propitious sign of the Winter Solstice. The assembly leader has come again; may you receive Heaven’s blessings on this fine occasion. Take care, take care.” With that, he descended from the seat and let everyone rest.

The master raised his whisk, a whisk-shaped ritual implement carried by Daoist priests or Chan masters, and showed it to the assembly. “The essence of the Dao has no form or substance, nor does it have a fixed name, so there is nothing to say about it. Even if one speaks, one cannot truly explain it. Since I have taken the seat to teach today, I will let this whisk speak in my place. This is no ordinary whisk; it will provoke arguments. Why? The moment it is raised, it is as if the questions left by the patriarchs have been stirred up, leaving everyone dazzled and unable to resist pressing for answers and arguing.”

He continued, “This whisk is all mouth, all hands, all eyes. Its spiritual powers are unfathomable, its transformations without end.” He held the whisk upright and said, “Look: does it have eyes?” He tapped it and said, “Listen: does it have ears?” Then he tossed it down and said, “Well, does it have spiritual powers?” The attendant picked up the whisk and handed it back to the master. The master said, “Its function arises through this whisk, yet it is not confined to this whisk.” After a brief silence, he continued, “Mountains, rivers, and the whole earth are all in this whisk; the myriad forms of existence are all in this whisk. The Three Worthies and Ten Sages, ranks of spiritual attainment, are all in this whisk; all the people on the entire earth are all in this whisk.” He shook the whisk and said, “Who among those gathered here is not in this whisk? Come forward and meet me.”

Layman Huang stepped forward and said, “Thunder suddenly crashes like a bolt, shaking the stars across the sky until they grow cold. I respectfully ask the teacher: what is the ‘sign of the first Yang’—the sign that Yang energy first arises at the winter solstice, which can also refer to the stirring of Yang energy in cultivation?”

The teacher drew a circle on the handle of his fly whisk and asked, “Do you understand?” Layman Huang said, “I do.” The teacher asked again, “Then what is the ‘first Yang’ within the body like?” As he spoke, the teacher swung his fly whisk and shouted loudly. Layman Huang said, “I understand now.” The teacher said, “Continue in this way.” Layman Huang bowed in thanks and said, “If the teacher had not pointed it out in person, I would nearly have missed the first arising of Yang.”

Dai Jia’an asked, “It is only an ordinary day, yet people make such a fuss over it. Why is it called the winter solstice? And why speak of ‘Yang arising’ when snow is still falling? What is going on?”

The teacher said, “The earth lies flat, and all between Heaven and Earth is white. Do you understand?” Dai Jia’an said, “I don’t.” The teacher said, “Come closer. I’ll tell you.” Dai Jia’an went up to the teacher. The teacher said, “Let the heavy snow cover a thousand mountains: one solitary peak still stands tall and steadfast.” Dai Jia’an bowed in thanks and withdrew.

The teacher said, “I have a hidden saying for everyone to ponder. The Dao De Jing says: ‘In a trance, there are images within; in a trance, there are things within.’ What, then, is this thing? Whoever penetrates it may pull Li Qing’an down from the teaching seat, beat him soundly, then dig a deep pit and bury him under a thick layer of earth, leaving no trace. That would not be going too far. If you cannot penetrate it, Li Qing’an will bury you instead. If you still don’t understand, I’ll add one more line of commentary. The verse says:”

I have something that can become exceedingly small or expand without limit. Its essence is like empty space, yet its workings extend throughout the entire Dharma Realm—the full expanse of all that exists. Lift it up, and even Heaven cannot contain it; set it down, and the Earth cannot bear it. Those who see it seem as though their eyes will pop out; those who hear it seem as though their skulls will split.

When Daoist practitioners grasp it, they can shake the three Penglai isles, the legendary mountains in the sea. When Buddhist monks grasp it, they can inherit the Dharma lineage of the Caoxi tradition, a branch of Southern Chan. Used to govern a country, it brings stability to the nation and prosperity to its people. Used to aid spiritual cultivation, it clears the age and allows the transformation of the Dao to prevail. In value, it is worth ten thousand taels of gold; yet if it meets someone who understands it, I will sell it to him for not a single coin. Why ask no payment? Because I seek no profit, only the pleasure of it.

Now I bring this thing forth and ask you: have you grasped it? Shian said, “No.” The master replied, “Let’s set aside whether you have grasped it. I am right here, buying and selling for myself.” The master drew a circle and said, “Look between the two hands closing around this circle. What you naturally pick out is incense.”

On the birthday of the Most High Lord Lao, the master ascended the hall to teach.

The master ascended the teaching seat and said, “The Great One—an honorific in Daoism for the highest deity or the Great Dao—is originally present everywhere, existing at every moment within everyday life. Yet, regrettably, those who have not understood insist that one must pass beyond the dark barrier before one can see it.” He then asked everyone, “Where, exactly, is the Great One? Look: it is here now, speaking the teaching. Do you understand? Even if you grasp this in the present moment, you are still separated from it by the slightest gap, as Qing’an said. Why? If you say that he is the Great One, then what are you yourself? You must return to your own being and investigate it thoroughly before you can truly experience it at first hand. This is precisely what the Great One meant by saying, ‘The true and constant Dao is realized by each person for themselves.’”

The scripture also says, “Living beings cannot attain the true Dao because their minds are filled with deluded thoughts.” Once deluded thoughts arise, all kinds of distinctions and conditions come into being. These conditions entangle one another, causing people to lose the root of the Dao. Seeing that living beings had lost their true nature, the sages established various skillful methods to guide people away from defilement and out of delusion. That is why they wrote this scripture. A scripture is a path by which people return to the Great Dao.

When reading this scripture, one should understand that “scripture” is merely a name provisionally assigned. The Dao itself has nothing to say, and even when spoken of, it cannot be fully expressed. The Dao cannot be grasped or abandoned; it cannot be increased or diminished. It cannot be depicted or presented to others. It does not belong to discussion, knowledge, or what is seen and heard, nor does it fall within being or nonbeing. Do not understand it as some fixed reality, or as absolute nothingness. Do not try to grasp it only through words and meanings, and do not cling to views of annihilation or permanence.

Where, then, should those who cultivate the Dao begin? Unless they can grasp the “Great Image”—the Dao in its entirety, its fundamental nature—they will find it difficult to truly arrive. The Great One said, “When the Great Dao is held fast, all under Heaven turns toward it; turning toward it without suffering harm, all can be peaceful and at ease.” He also said, “Music and fine food make passersby stop; the Dao, when spoken of, is bland and tasteless.” Whatever is known through sound and form belongs to the impermanent and will eventually vanish. The Dao, spoken of, is bland and tasteless; look for it and it cannot be seen, listen for it and it cannot be heard, yet put it to use and it is inexhaustible. How profound these words are!

If someone can truly believe and understand them, they can free themselves from every attachment to appearances and comprehend all methods of cultivation. They can clear body and mind here and now, making both their inner and outer selves clear and open; hide the great sound within silence and conceal the great image within the formless. Then body and spirit will naturally undergo subtle transformations and unite with the Dao.

Regrettably, some people who study the Dao today do not seek their teacher’s original intent, relying instead on their own conjectures. Some are confined by doctrines; others cling to the wording. As a result, the purpose for which the sages wrote the scripture is obscured. The passages in this scripture that have no commentary often give rise to differing interpretations for this very reason. They do not know that as soon as one begins to speak, one may already be far from the Dao. The moment one says, “The Dao that can be spoken,” it is already not the constant Dao. The moment one says, “The name that can be named,” it is already not the constant name.

If the constant Dao cannot be spoken, does that mean the more than five thousand words of the Dao De Jing are not the Dao? If the constant name cannot be named, does that mean the title of the Dao De Jing is not a name? Understand this: to say that it is “not the Dao” means that it cannot be fully expressed in words; and what cannot be fully expressed is precisely the Dao. To say that it is “unnamable” means it cannot be fixed by a name; and what cannot be fixed is precisely the name. If you can truly see this clearly, your study and cultivation of the Dao will have found their grounding. If you still cannot understand, you will inevitably be swayed by what others say: the benevolent view it from the perspective of benevolence, the wise from the perspective of wisdom, while ordinary people use the Great Dao every day without knowing it. Thus, there are few who truly understand the sages’ Dao. Qing’an does not hesitate to speak plainly and lay it all out for you.

This volume of the Jing is like old paper used to wipe away dirt: the humane see humanity in it, and the wise see wisdom. Ordinary people live by it every day, yet may not understand its principles. Thus, few truly understand the Dao handed down by the sages. Qing’an has spared no effort, speaking at length to make it clear to everyone.

Since this volume of the Jing is likened to old paper used to wipe away dirt, there is no need to use more than five thousand words to explain what cannot be put into words. It is like a skilled doctor prescribing medicine according to an illness: once the patient is well, the medicine is no longer needed. Once the constant Dao has been understood, those five thousand words are no longer necessary either. Seen this way, we understand that whatever can be spoken or named is merely the boundary of the Dao; what cannot be spoken or named is the Dao’s mystery. “The named boundary,” which can be spoken and named, is the Dao’s function; the nameless mystery is the Dao’s substance. “The nameless” is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; “the named” is the source of the myriad things. Both come from the Dao. They differ only in name, and both are called mysterious. Within the mystery lies a deeper mystery, the gateway to all wonders. If one can enter the nameless mystery through the named boundary, one has truly attained the constant Dao. Who could grasp this unless they were among the most inwardly still and empty in the world?

Friends, having spoken this far, has Qing’an spoken, or not spoken? Having heard this far, have you heard, or not heard? If a wise person can grasp this kind of “hearing without hearing,” they will understand Qing’an’s “speech without speaking.” Then the purpose of the sage who wrote this Jing becomes clear: the sentence at its very beginning has already said all that needs to be said, and there is no need for further doubt.

Someone asked, “If the Dao cannot be spoken and no name can be established, isn’t it pointless to make such a grand display of holding a ritual today?”

The master replied, “That is not so. The fact that the Most High Lord Lao was born on the fifteenth day of the second month does not simply mean that he had an actual birthday. It makes manifest the principle of ceaseless generation. I celebrate the Most High’s birthday today precisely to explain the meaning of that first sentence. What is superfluous about that, and what is there to doubt? Everyone, the first sentence has already been spoken. But how should the final sentence be spoken? Ah, this mouth my parents gave me cannot, in the end, make it clear for me.” With that, the master stepped down from his seat and dismissed everyone to rest.

The master said, “Look for it, and you cannot see it: this is called ‘rare.’ Listen for it, and you cannot hear it: this is called ‘subtle.’ Reach for it, and you cannot grasp it: this is called ‘minute.’ These three cannot be pursued to their limits.” I said, “Is it invisible because it has no color? Is it inaudible because it has no sound? Is it intangible because it has no form?” The master raised his fly whisk and asked, “Do you see it?” Then he struck it once and said, “That is the pursuit.”

I asked again, “Is it invisible because it has no color? Is it inaudible because it has no sound? Is it intangible because it has no form?” I raised the fly whisk and asked, “Do you see it?” Then I struck it once and asked, “Do you hear it? If you understand this in terms of seeing or hearing, you have not yet acquired the true eye of study and practice. If you do not understand it in terms of seeing or hearing, you still have not acquired the true eye of study and practice. How should everyone understand this?”

Hei’an stepped forward and said, “Seeing forms without being bound by their appearances, hearing sounds without being limited by them—dwelling amid forms without obstruction is to arrive in person at the King of Dharma’s City, the realm of awakening.” The master said, “Set those words aside.” Hei’an clenched his fist and said, “Look.” Then he struck a blow and said, “Listen. Does this still count as seeing and hearing?”

The master said, “Strike empty space and make it sound.” Hei’an asked, “Is there anything more?” The master said, “When you can conceal an elephant in the formless and hide great sound in silence, come and see me again.” Hei’an replied, “Yes.” He bowed in thanks and withdrew.

The master raised his staff and said, “The clay ox pants at the moon; the wooden horse whinnies into the wind. It seems there is something to seek, yet when you search, there is no trace to be found. This staff of Qing’an’s seems to have drawn down the lofty Miaogao Peak.” Then he said, “The moment you open your mouth, you are already wrong. Why take the trouble to raise it up and show it to people?”

Ah! If you hope to grasp the meaning of the Void Emperor beneath the staff, you have not even dreamed of it yet. Why? One skilled at walking leaves no cart ruts or footprints; one skilled at speaking makes no mistakes; one skilled at planning uses no counting tokens; one skilled at closing needs no bolt, yet the door cannot be opened; one skilled at tying needs no cord, yet the knot cannot be undone.

The verse says: “Stepping forward does not depend on the feet; taking hold of something has nothing to do with the hands. Touch the tip of your nose, and your whole body, from head to toe, is a mouth. If you can investigate this closely, then seven times seven was forty-nine all along.”

Only when you grasp this principle will you know that the Most High did not open his mouth when he spoke this scripture, and Qing’an did not move his hand when he raised the staff. If you still cannot grasp it, then begin by investigating within the realm of sound and form. Is there anyone who can understand? Do not open your mouth; do not move your hand. Leave sound and form, and come forth to meet me. Speak, and you will be struck with the staff; remain silent, and you will be struck with the staff.

Lay Buddhist Huang came forward and was about to speak. The attendant said, “You are not allowed to speak.” A while later, Huang stamped his foot. The master said, “That is still not enough.” Huang gave a cough. The master said, “Eight quarters too early, eight quarters too late.”

Ding’an came forward and bowed. “Please present this topic once more, Master.” The master said, “You are not allowed to speak.” Ding’an raised his fist. The master said again, “You are not allowed to use your hands.” Ding’an gave a shout. The master said, “There is still another level above.” Ding’an asked, “What else is there?” and then gave a cough. The master said, “Eight quarters too early, eight quarters too late.”

Ding’an bowed again and asked the master to present the topic once more. The master still said, “You are not allowed to speak.” Ding’an raised his fist, and the master said, “You are not allowed to use your hands.” Ding’an gave a shout. The master said, “There is still another level above.” Ding’an asked, “What else is there?” The master said, “All of you gathered here should quietly contemplate this in stillness.” With that, the master descended from the seat. Ding’an followed him. The master stopped him and asked, “Where are you going?” Ding’an said, “There is nowhere to go.” The master said, “If you go like this, you may for now escape a beating with the stick.” Ding’an bowed in thanks.

End of Volume Three of Recorded Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi.

Compiled by the master’s disciple, Ning’an Deng Decheng.

A Verse Composed in Weiyang

While in Weiyang (around present-day Yangzhou), the master composed a line of verse and asked his disciples to add a line, saying, “Only those who can match it in rhythm may advance further.”

The master said, “Formless, traceless, and nameless, it upholds Heaven and Earth from ancient times to the present.”

Qing’an had just knocked them all down.

Ding’an said, “The great thousandfold world is wholly transformed into gold.”

Wuan said, “Its traces vanish completely; there is nowhere to seek it.”

Fuan said, “To know where to begin, one must seek within stillness.”

Heian said, “It transforms the whole earth into gold.”

Yue’an said, “Emptiness shatters; not a trace can be found.”

The master said, “All except Wuan will be punished together.”

Shishuai said, “Use the Qian cauldron and golden furnace to refine the sun and moon; turn the celestial pivot with the Northern Dipper’s handle and the stars of the Heavenly Dipper. Split open chaos, and the Golden Elixir is complete.” Ding’an added, “As it comes and goes, its perfect radiance shines across the whole world.” Wu’an said, “Hold the infant close and pay a visit to the Purple Tenuity, the North Star and the abode of the Celestial Emperor.” Xi’an said, “Fly straight up to the cinnabar heavens, the realm of immortals, without needing a ladder.” Fu’an said, “Swallow the elixir, then ride a phoenix to the Grand Tenuity, the Celestial Emperor’s abode.” He then repeated, “As it comes and goes, its perfect radiance shines across the whole world”; “Wu’an said: Hold the infant close and pay a visit to the Purple Tenuity”; “Xi’an said: Go straight to the cinnabar heavens without a ladder”; and “Fu’an said: Swallow it, then ride a phoenix to the Grand Tenuity.” He’an said, “Recognize the single point of light within.” Su’an said, “Release the light and return to the Great Beginning, the primordial state before heaven and earth and all things came into being.” The master commented, “Looking closely at the disciples’ works, I find them all wanting; only He’an’s words are somewhat better.”

The master said, “Take a step and you overturn the Formless Realm; lift your head and you knock down the Great Luo Heaven, the highest heaven in Daoist legend. Someone asks me where I dwell.” Ding’an said, “I emerge through a circle that is indestructible as vajra and free of obstruction.” Wu’an said, “One heart contains the whole great chiliocosm.” Fu’an said, “It is concealed before the vast, undivided chaos.” He’an said, “It is as it has always been: neither increased nor diminished.” Yue’an said, “It is right before the brows and eyelashes.” The master remarked, “Ding’an is best, and Fu’an comes next.”

The master said, “Through countless kalpas, there has always been a precious pearl, hard as raw iron and soft as clarified butter.” Yet across the sandy realms of the great chiliocosm, no place can be found to dwell. Ding’an said, “It encompasses heaven and earth, like the original pattern of creation.” Wu’an said, “The nothingness beyond the Dao can never contain it completely.” Fu’an said, “It illuminates the whole void, seeming to be nothing at all.” Pu’an said, “Once you see it clearly, look for it again and it cannot be found.” He’an said, “It fills the whole void; it is everywhere.” Aishan said, “Boundless, pure light shines across the Great Void.” The master said, “None of these statements says everything; among them, only Ding’an’s and He’an’s are somewhat better.”

The master said, “Clinging to nonbeing or clinging to being is not true practice. Abandon both sides, and you fall into emptiness. If you try to possess being and nonbeing at the same time, in the end they still cannot be brought into one.” Ding’an said, “Within nonbeing, there is indeed true being.” The master remarked, “He’an’s words are somewhat better.”

The master said, “Being attached to ‘nonbeing’ or attached to ‘being’ does not count as cultivation. Let go of both sides, and you fall into emptiness. To attend to both ‘being’ and ‘nonbeing’ still does not, in the end, return to unity. Ding’an said, ‘Only by discovering true being within nonbeing can one begin to penetrate things in secret.’ He’an said, ‘Only by being neither nonbeing nor being can one reach complete understanding.’ Wu’an said, ‘Only by being neither nonbeing nor being can spiritual powers appear.’ Fu’an said, ‘Only by becoming one with the Great Void—the boundless expanse of emptiness—can the Dao be fully penetrated.’ The master said, ‘Each of you has come close, but missed the mark. I think it is better simply to keep silent watch over the middle.’”

The master said, “Round and whole, like a complete circle, it arose before the primordial chaos, when Heaven and Earth had yet to divide. It has no root or source and cannot be grasped. Ding’an said, ‘To understand this moment is to truly grasp the essential point.’ He’an said, ‘It is right here before us; every aspect of daily life is fully present in it.’ Wu’an said, ‘Know that when the moon sets, it has not left the sky.’ Fu’an said, ‘Only in stillness and immobility can one awaken to the true principle.’ The master said, ‘He’an put it well.’”

The master said, “It supports Heaven above and Earth below. Between Heaven and Earth there is an aperture, yet no breath passes through it. Look for it, and it cannot be seen; listen for it, and it cannot be heard. Ding’an said, ‘Even while eating and dressing, it is never obscured.’ He’an said, ‘Everyday activity is never apart from it.’ Wu’an said, ‘It fills all space, inspiring awe even in spirits and ghosts.’ Sun’an said, ‘How does this differ from empty space?’ The master said, ‘Ding’an put it well.’”

The master also said, “To set up the alchemical cauldron is like boiling dry the Four Great Seas; to place the alchemical furnace is like smelting away the five Mount Sumerus. When the Golden Elixir is refined and appears, it encompasses the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm. Ding’an said, ‘This is when the elder brother’s aspirations are finally fulfilled.’ Wu’an said, ‘The Dao is inherently Wuwei (non-action); here, action is used only as a metaphor.’ He’an said, ‘This is the primordial state before Heaven and Earth came into being.’ Jian’an said, ‘This is precisely the moment of transcending the ordinary and entering the sacred.’ The master said, ‘Ding’an’s words are the most subtle.’”

At the Four Sages’ Daoist Abbey in Zhaoyang, the master refined the will and discussed the Dao with his fellow initiates. These exchanges are recorded here together.

The master said, “Dip the tip of the brush, and it is as if the waters of rivers and lakes have all been drained away. Grind the inkstone, and it is as if the earth itself has been pierced. Make a single stroke in the place that fills the void.” He’an said, “The cloudlike Qi between brush and ink has lingered on, from ancient times to the present.” Xi’an said, “The brush tip reveals the Heaven and Earth that were there from the beginning.” Tui’an said, “This single stroke cuts open the realm before my parents had given birth to me.” Jing’an said, “Beyond this mystery, there is no greater mystery.” The master said, “Jing’an and Tui’an come closer. Tui’an’s line would be even finer if ‘cuts open the realm before my parents had given birth to me’ were changed to ‘cuts open the chaos before it had yet divided.’”

The master said, “Little Hermitage Brother, little toad, hide yourself away and let no outsider see you. At night, open your great mouth and swallow the sky.” He’an said, “The fire of cinnabar, the alchemical mineral, blazes within your belly.” Jing’an said, “Only after chewing it to pieces do you know its bitterness and sweetness.” Tui’an said, “The mountains and rivers of the whole earth lie hidden beneath the tongue.” Yi’an said, “Its flavor is like clarified butter, exceptionally sweet.” The master said, “All these sayings come close. I would say: ‘Swallow Heaven and Earth whole, and still be unsatisfied.’”

The master said, “This year the poor man has reached the utmost poverty; the hermitage cannot hold even a single needle. Poverty on and on, with no end to poverty.” He’an said, “Only the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the refined result of Daoist internal alchemical cultivation, remains unchanged through the ages.” Ji’an said, “Utterly pure and still, with not a speck of dust on the body.” Yin’an said, “Bare and without remainder: this is the original mind.” Xu’an said, “Cast off the outer form, and the original mind appears.” Xi’an said, “Refine until, in the end, Heaven and Earth are entirely transformed into gold.” Wei’an said, “Only when the whole body is purple gold.” Ding Zai said, “Only a single divine elixir is true gold.” The master said, “None of these is it.” Someone replied, “The house is broken and the people are dead; everything that has died is gold.” The master said, “Still not right.” Someone else said, “Only when the whole body is purple gold; only a single divine elixir is true gold.” The master again said, “None of these is it.” Someone replied, “The house is broken and the people are dead; even the mind has died.”

The master said, “Last night the Yellow Woman (Huangpo), an alchemical term for the force that harmonizes Yin-Yang and enables cultivation, conceived a child. The child has just been born, and its form is exceedingly subtle. It cannot remain hidden in chaos.” He’an said, “This must belong to the moment before the Limitless.” Xi’an said, “Return to something as tiny as a millet grain, and you will know the mystery within it.” The master said, “None of these sayings has reached the point.” Someone replied, “Beyond the Great Void, the pivot that turns the celestial bodies is in motion.”

The master said, “It is not easy to hear the scriptures and learn the teachings in a complete way; it is also wrong to leave the Dharma gate and seek the mysterious. To neither hear the teachings nor follow the Dharma gate is wrong as well.” Heian said, “Only when you overturn everything completely is your practice complete.” Xian said, “When you are hungry, eat; when you are tired, sleep.” The master said, “None of these sayings is quite right.” Someone replied, “To hold fast to the center without leaning to either side—that is the true principle.”

The master said, “Standing at the tip of a pole, it is hard to make any further progress. If you are to go on, how should you move your heel? And if you do not move it, how can you arrive?” Heian said, “The marvel of advancing to a higher level is hard to put into words.” The master said, “Lift the covering from the crown of your head, and you can pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.” Here, “lifting the skull’s cover” is a metaphor for spiritual cultivation, meaning a breakthrough beyond the limits of ordinary understanding; “paying homage to the Origin” means meeting the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, revered in Daoism.

The master continued, “When sitting in meditation, it is hard to awaken to the Dao with your eyes open; yet when you close them, you fall into gloom and dullness. If you neither close your eyes nor open them, you become blind.” Heian said, “When the whole body is eyes, then you are my kindred spirit.” Jian said, “Open one eye and look carefully until you see clearly.” The master said, “Only with an eye at the crown can you see the heart of Heaven.” The “eye at the crown” is a term from spiritual cultivation, referring to inner insight that surpasses ordinary vision.

The master said, “Travel by land, and you pass through one stretch of road after another; travel by water, and you may tumble into a ditch. If you take neither of these routes, how can you attain the Dao?” Heian said, “A blow to the face is truly merciless.” Xian said, “So the path down the middle is level and broad.” The master said, “Xian’s explanation is somewhat better.” I added, “Riding the wind, I return and pay homage to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing).” The Three Pure Ones are the three highest deities revered in Daoism.

The master said, “It is not hard to investigate the ‘Barrier Without a Gate’; but once you call it gateless, there is no barrier at all. And if there is no barrier, what is there to open?” Heian said, “Who knows what is so hard to understand about those old patterns?” Xian said, “One punch shatters the knot of doubt.” Xuan said, “Without moving a single step, you can reach Chang’an.” The master said, “Xuan’s saying is well put.”

The master said, “When you sit in meditation, a dull and clouded mind, heavy with stray thoughts, is Yin stagnation. When you become alert and keen, you fall into the distinctions of emotional and intellectual awareness. Even when your thoughts are neither scattered nor dull, that still does not count as purity.” Heian said, “Like playing the zither to summon the phoenix, clarity comes of itself.” Yian said, “When every thought has vanished, the Great Elixir—the essence refined through Neidan (internal alchemy)—is complete.” Dong’an said, “Emptiness and stillness have sincerity as their root.” Jing’an said, “Let go of the whole body completely, and spiritual communion will come of itself.” The master said, “These are still only dust and grime.” Heian, Yian, Dong’an, and Jing’an each repeated what they had said before. The master said, “All these views are still a little off.” The others replied, “Let it be free and at ease, and the light will appear.”

The master said, “When your practice reaches a place of profound stillness, holding on to even one thing makes all your effort vain. But if you hold on to nothing at all, you become bewildered and empty.” Heian said, “Let your being merge completely with the Great Void, the boundless expanse of space.” Xian’an said, “Within the breath itself lies great spiritual power.” Dong’an said, “Let your whole body disappear into the Great Void.” Yian said, “Be still and unmoving, yet respond and flow freely when things arise.” The master said, “Pluck it from beyond the world of ordinary life, and flaunt your spiritual powers.”

The master then said, “Last night at the third watch, it was high noon; the great beast swallowed the tiger of South Mountain.” Qing’an displayed spiritual powers in a state of samadhi, a focused and settled state of practice. Heian said, “At the lion’s roar, who would dare show disrespect?” Yi’an said, “It shakes Heaven and Earth; who would dare show disrespect?” The master said, “You say the great beast swallowed the tiger of South Mountain, and you say Qing’an displayed spiritual powers in samadhi.” Heian and Yi’an repeated what they had said before. The master said, “Neither of you understands this.” The others replied, “Spoken so well that even the horned dragon, a mythical divine dragon, rises and dances.”

The master said, “Fishing for the moon in water is delusion from the start; planting a lotus in fire is empty talk. Search in every direction, above and below, and you will only waste your effort.” Heian said, “Spiritual powers appear right here and now.” Xian’an said, “To cling neither to practice nor to realization is true achievement.” The master said, “How can that compare with single-mindedly holding to what is within?”

The master then said, “Heaven is the roof, Earth the foundation, and the four directions and eight extremes the walls. In the middle lives a fool.” Heian said, “Alone, I sense Heaven’s heart and wait for the moon to rise.” The master said, “Better to overturn the whole thing and stop dwelling there to guard it.”

It is also said: Before Heaven and Earth were divided and the myriad things appeared, there was the state of Wuji (the boundless, undifferentiated source). Before Wuji there was, from the beginning, Taichu (the primordial state before Heaven and Earth took shape). As for what existed before Taichu, Hei’an said, “It is not me now, nor am I it.” Xi’an said, “From ancient times to the present, I alone abide in Suchness, the unchanging reality.” The Master said, “Here and now, the manifest essence is originally empty and still.”

The Master said, “At noon last night, Wu Liao and I went straight up to the center of Heaven. When asked about what came before Taichu, Hei’an said, ‘It is not me now, nor am I it.’ Xi’an said, ‘From ancient times to the present, I alone abide in Suchness.’ The Master said, ‘Here and now, the manifest essence is originally empty and still.’”

The Master said, “At noon last night, Wu Liao and I went straight up to the center of Heaven, then turned the handle of the Northern Dipper. The Dharma Wheel, symbolizing the circulation of the teaching, turned, and Heaven and Earth shook.” Hei’an said, “In the Palace of the Great Pearl, an immortal realm, I am upright, free, and at ease.” He also said, “The myriad forms of the cosmos all come to pay homage.”

The Master said, “Do not cling either to no-mind or to having a mind; neither attachment can reach the truth. Having a mind will ultimately become a burden through thoughts.” Hei’an said, “Understand the true cause that lies between them.” The Master said, “Only by letting go of both being and nonbeing can one realize the Dharma Body, the true essence spoken of in Buddhism and Daoism.”

He also said, “I bring out the means to kill and draw the knife that saves. Tell me: how do you kill, and how do you save?” Hei’an said, “Bring those who died before back to life.” Xi’an said, “Cut off all birth and death.” The Master said, “Neither of your knives has an edge.” The two replied, “The Dharma King’s command is right here.”

The Master said, “A precious pearl shines, complete and round. Outside, it has no bounds; inside, it is empty and still. Gently take it up, yet there is nowhere to set it down.” Hei’an said, “It reveals itself alone and is raised up by itself, naturally free and at ease.” Xu’an said, “It fills the realm of the sands, revealing Suchness, the true and unchanging nature.” Xi’an said, “Whether released or drawn back, it is all there.” Yi’an said, “The Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning dwells there alone.” The Master said, “Why do you always fail to get to what is real?” Then he said, “Hey, lead me into the toad to live.”

He also said, “Refine an iron pellet until it glows red-hot, red as the sun and as vast as the sky.” Qianlai said, “Whether released or drawn back, it is all there.” Yi’an said, “The Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning dwells there alone.” The Master said, “Why do you always fail to get to what is real?” Then he said, “Hey, lead me into the toad to live.”

Then he said, “Refine an iron pellet until it glows red hot, red as the sun and so large it seems to cover the sky. Use tongs to put it into everyone’s mouth.” Hey’an said, “Chew it, and bring out the cool flavor of Chan.” Xi’an said, “Only after chewing it to pieces do you know its flavor in full.” The master said, “Only when your liver and bowels have been chewed to bits will your heart and nature grow firm.”

The master said, “I and my fellow disciples treat composing poems as a game. My true intention is not poetry but the Dao. Whoever can grasp the Dao through poetry will attain its supreme and upright subtle principle. The subject now is ‘Turning from the Deviant and Returning to the Right.’ Compose a quatrain rhyming on ‘ye’ and ‘zhe,’ without stating the subject directly.”

Hey’an said, “How laughable that the lost cannot recognize their own home, yet take a false father for their real one. Hey’an extends the hand of Wuwei (non-action), pointing straight to Chang’an; the road ahead is wholly unobstructed.” Shi’an said, “Beside winding paths stand hundreds of schools, and everyone mistakes a thief for his father. Now I wake people and turn them back; only then do they believe the road to Penglai is open.” Jia’an said, “Before your eyes are three thousand lesser methods, beguiling as flower shadows. Do not be led astray and mistake them for the true path. Suddenly someone is pulled back from delusion and turned toward the Great Dao; then the bright moon fills the sky, with no clouds to veil it.”

The master said, “It is truly lamentable to embrace a thief and cry out that he has been wronged; though both eyes plainly see, they fail to recognize their real father. Do not blame Qing’an for acting harshly. He opens the mind’s aperture so that people may pass through without obstruction.”

End of volume four of Recorded Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi

Recorded Sayings of Qing’an Yingchanzi, volume five

Compiled by the disciple Meng’an Zhang Yingtan

Miscellaneous Writings

A poem presented to Dongxi:

“At the place where the foundation of the Elixir Dao (the path of Neidan cultivation) is established, do not let external circumstances disturb you. If the mind settles in stillness, the two functions within body and mind will harmonize with each other. The Li Fire burns the lead…”

In cultivating the Elixir Way (internal alchemy), one should first establish a firm foundation and keep worldly affairs from causing disturbance. As soon as the mind grows still, the two forces within the body can work together. The “Fire of Li” refines “lead and mercury”; the “thunder chariot” sets “water and metal” in motion. Their balance depends entirely on “Earth of Kun,” while their nourishment requires “Heavenly Ren.” White snow congeals in the golden cauldron, and yellow sprouts grow within a form like a jade hairpin. These are the true foundations of cultivation, not external things or empty claims.

Another verse

Having grasped the subtlety of keeping the mind focused inward, one remains unmoved even when the world presses in. Even if someone believes in this teaching, without the strength to practice it, they will find it hard to bear. The vow of compassion is vast as the sea; the sharp insight that cuts through delusion is keen as gold. One must search within for Zi and Wu—the moments when Yin and Yang wax and wane—and turn outward Ding and Ren, terms associated with the Five Phases and Yin-Yang. True concealment needs no bolt or key. When friends gather close like hairpins drawn together, there is no cause for suspicion. In the mysterious beyond the mysterious, grasp the meaning with a single word: “Yes.” In this way, one accords with the mind teaching passed down by Zeng Shen.

Han Zai asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of Master Lü (Lü Dongbin)

This old Mr. Lü has a kindly face, yet within him lie hidden edges. He is composed and at ease, yet free and unbound. His sword is like a green serpent; his alchemical method reaches the Purple Pole, the Daoist heaven of highest rank. Careful examination makes the circumstances clear: he is indeed extraordinary. But what, exactly, is so extraordinary about him? Ha! A divine sword lies hidden in his sleeve, its edge unseen. He ranges across Heaven and Earth, yet no one recognizes him.

Layman Wang asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of Master Bao (the monk Baozhi)

This monk is stubborn by nature and carries a Chan staff. He has tried all thirty-six tricks. Aha! Only when he tears away the face does his true appearance, wrapped around his head, emerge.

Layman Wang asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of Master Bao

This monk is stubborn by nature and carries a Chan staff. He has tried all thirty-six guises. Aha! Only when he tears away the face does his true appearance, wrapped around his head, come into view.

Layman Zhang asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of the Cloth-Bag Monk

This fat monk is a practiced thief. He hides things in his cloth bag, and no one recognizes him. Aha! In truth, the thief himself is ill at ease, and his smile gives him away.

Layman Li asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of Master Lü (Lü Dongbin)

What sort of man is this old foreigner? He is steady and at ease, yet behaves strangely. He dwells amid the dusty world, yet roams beyond the mundane. Now that he has come here, everything he kept hidden has been exposed. Tell me, where is the thief hiding? Ha! A green serpent lies hidden in his sleeve, and the whole world is hidden in a grain of rice.

A good friend asks for an inscription in praise of a portrait of Patriarch Wang (Wang Chongyang)

This old man was very ugly: his hair was sparse, like a beard, and his eyes were huge, almost like a mouth. He called himself a descendant of the Five Patriarchs, the lineage of patriarchs honored by Daoism. People called him a fellow teacher and friend of the Seven Perfected Ones, the seven perfected beings revered by Quanzhen Daoism. What does that mean? Look at his mouth and you’ll understand. If you press him further, he suddenly grabs you from behind.

Layman Zhao asked someone to inscribe a eulogy for “The Three Immortals.”

The Patriarch Qing’an was plump, like one big mouth. He called himself a descendant of the Five Patriarchs, and people called him a fellow teacher and friend of the Seven Perfected Ones. What does that mean? Look at his mouth and you’ll understand. If you press him further, he suddenly grabs you from behind.

Layman Zhao asked someone to inscribe a eulogy for “The Three Immortals.”

The Patriarch Qing’an was plump and looked nothing like the immortal in the painting. He had no special abilities, yet accepted offerings from people. Did he even know his true original face? I split open his face for him, but inside it was no different from empty space. The scholar Jie’an had thick fingers and the strangest mannerisms. He had read many books, yet could not write a single character. Why couldn’t he? Ha! Take off the theatrical costume of Bao Lao, the masked character in old plays, and put on the indestructible body of a Vajra.

Eulogies for the fellow members of the Dao.

Liaochan’s eulogy says: The mind is like the bright full moon, perfectly round and radiant; one’s nature is like the sky, clear and shining. Liaochan comes and goes, illuminating all beneath heaven.

He’an’s eulogy says: He’an’s realm has no distinction between inner and outer. It is vast and embracing, deep and luminous.

Danchan’s eulogy says: The Elixir is the function of the toad; the toad is the substance of the Elixir. Once the Elixir is refined, the toad transforms and takes flight; its merit equals that of the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.

Yichan’s eulogy says: The Chan realm is pure and luminous, and the sea of wisdom is clear. Yichan suddenly appears, shining over all things, even those without life. Ha! All barriers between heaven and earth are shattered, revealing only the great, independent light.

Yian’s eulogy says: Yian’s realm is free of entanglements and obstacles. When the Nine Revolutions are complete, the spirit embryo transforms and takes flight. Ah! A great light wells up from the crown of the head, illuminating the three thousand worlds.

A eulogy for Li Daishao: Refine your keen intelligence, make your bearing upright, and part the clouds to cultivate the moon’s essence. The higher stages of cultivation are fully revealed. Ah! Display your skill before the perfected one; in the end, all the myriad methods become interconnected.

A eulogy for Qian Daishao.

A jade comb parts the clouds and mist; a golden knife shapes the moon. This is the art of cultivating the moon’s form at a high level, with none of its essential secrets revealed. Ah! Display your skill before one who has attained the Dao, and in the end you will be able to penetrate the myriad methods.

In Praise of Qian Daishao

A jade comb parts the clouds and mist; a golden knife shapes the moon. Once the highest principle is grasped, everything becomes clear and transparent. Ah! Though the signs before one’s eyes are visible, they are not inadvertently disclosed.

Miscellaneous Verses

Inscribed on the Three Realms

Look at this clumsy fellow, utterly lacking in resolve. Though plainly caught between life and death, he still clings on without end. Ah! Turn back at once, in haste; even then, only half can be saved.

Inscribed on the Seated Ape

This beast is most unruly. Its eyes glare, and its wild nature has yet to fade. Hah! Its fur must be worn away before it can roam freely beyond the world of convention. Here the ape represents the untamed nature of the mind. The work of seated meditation lies in gathering scattered thoughts so that mind and spirit are not held in bondage.

Inscribed on the Closed-Eyed Ape

Hah! What sort of creature is this hairy mass? Utterly wild, it causes every kind of trouble. Here, take it down together with all the filth. But tell me, where is the filth hidden? Ah! Sitting atop a mountain with the mind and eyes closed, one’s Jing, Qi, and Shen are complete, and the spirit wanders beyond worldly things.

In Praise of the Black Killer Talisman

Let the void be paper and Mount Sumeru the brush. All is gathered within the talisman; when put to use, it works with uncanny mystery. Tell me: how are this talisman’s powers to kill and to preserve life employed?

In Praise of the Sword

This is a blade that kills: hold it crosswise or raise it upside down. Meet a Buddha, kill the Buddha; meet a ghost, kill the ghost. Here the sharp sword serves as a metaphor for freedom from every attachment.

In Praise of the Baked Cake

Knead water and flour into a single mass and shape it into a round ball. Without the work of tending the heat, how could its true flavor be obtained? Hah! Take it out and offer it to you; there is no need to bite it apart.

In Praise of the Baked Cake

Knead water and flour into a single mass and shape it into a round ball. Without the work of tending the heat, how could its true flavor be obtained? Hah! Take it out and offer it to you; there is no need to bite it apart.

In Praise of Malt Sugar

Extract the yellow syrup and slowly boil it over the fire. It sticks like phoenix glue and is sweet as honey. The foolish and muddleheaded get their jaws stuck together; even a person of great strength cannot open their mouth.

In Praise of the Gourd Ladle

Human beings receive the primordial One Qi (the original energy before Heaven and Earth), and from it each develops the Dao vessel suited to them—the aptitude and capacity for cultivating the Dao. Take it up at will, and it can cleave open chaos, revealing a state that is whole, perfectly rounded, and without flaw. Ah! When raised, it is perfectly clear. Do not mistake what this means.

Again: of all the wondrous workings and unfathomable spiritual powers, this alone is the key. Raise it, and it seems to cover the sky and blot out the sun; set it down, and all is calm.

In Praise of Master Zong’s Unkempt Hair

Unkempt hair, unkempt hair—what elegance can there be in that? He drags his staff sideways and rides an iron ox backwards.

A Self-Portrait in Praise

This face relies on no principle; that face is not it either. So where could there be a “you”? Ah! To call it Li Qing’an would be like seeing a ghost right before your eyes.

In Praise of a Fan

A whole, flawless circle, reflecting the myriad forms directly. Raise it, and it is like the bright moon in the sky; wave it, and a cool breeze brushes the face. Tell me, have you seen it? Ah, do not ask whether you have seen it. I fan it once only to open a small gap for you.

In Praise of the Elixir

Since ancient times, this thing has had no form or substance; it neither increases nor diminishes, and never ceases or rests. Its edge can sever metal, and its radiant clarity surpasses the sun. Buddhists call it the “Mysterious Pearl,” Confucians call it the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), and Daoists call it the Golden Elixir. Though it has three names, what they refer to is one and the same reality. It is right before your eyes, yet people fail to recognize it. ○ This is it; there is no need to doubt further.

Showing the Assembly Two Diagrams

Verse on the Layered Characters Hidden in the Head

Cast off the old form and nourish Jing and Qi; refine the Golden Elixir, using Shen to refine and Qi to guide it; preserve and nourish the spirit over time; bring forth growth and settle the nature; strengthen the body, enliven the Qi, and clarify the mind and spirit; gather Jing and Qi, abide in the spirit, and return to original awakening.

Explanation of the Verse

Use the original spirit to refine the body; refine the body to preserve Jing; preserve Jing to guide Qi.

Use the Original Spirit to refine and nourish the body, and refine and nourish the body to preserve Jing and Qi. Only by preserving Jing and Qi can one master Qi; only by mastering Qi can Shen remain at rest. When Shen rests, one’s nature and temperament can become settled; when these are settled, the mind can become clear. When the mind is clear, one can grasp the root; when the root is grasped, Shen becomes luminous. When Shen is luminous, Qi comes to rest; when Qi comes to rest, Jing gathers. When Jing gathers, the body becomes firm. Once the body is firm, one can attain long life. When long life is accompanied by a lasting clarity, the Elixir is formed. After the Elixir is formed, the bodily shell is cast off, and the Original Spirit is liberated.

The verse above gives the essential principles for refining Shen. To refine Shen, one must first refine Jing; to refine Jing, one must first master Qi; to master Qi, one must first maintain inner stillness (gathering the mind and spirit and focusing inward). When inner stillness is stable, the mind can become clear and Shen luminous, and Qi can come to rest. Only after Qi comes to rest can Jing gather; only after Jing gathers can the body become firm. Once the body is firm, the Yang Spirit (Shen cultivated through practice, able to leave the body) can shed its shell, and the Way of long life and enduring vision is complete. The alchemical texts’ references to “refining the body with golden liquid” and “returning the elixir with golden liquid” express this same principle.

Diagram of the Returned Elixir

Explanation of the Regulated Verse in the Diagram

The Elixir is refined within the Eightfold Golden Crucible.

“Eight” is the completed number of Wood (the number at which Wood reaches fullness). Wood symbolizes nature, while Metal symbolizes emotion. Use nature to govern emotion and bring it into the central palace (the body’s center, the core of internal cultivation); this is like a crucible of Earth. Then refine and nourish it with fire, making it ever firmer and more perfectly luminous. This is why it is called the Golden Elixir.

In the furnace at the gateway, one must guard it with care.

Fire symbolizes Shen, and the gateway is the chamber. When the Original Spirit enters the chamber, it is like placing the ingredients in the furnace: they must be carefully sealed, without any mistake. Lead and mercury are two alchemical symbols for substances that readily scatter. How could one fail to be cautious? Even the slightest mistake will prevent the Elixir from forming.

When Earth is lacking, Ren and Gui flow away from the Kan palace.

Earth symbolizes Kun, which corresponds to the body. When the body is still, the tiger roars; when the body moves, the tiger flees. The tiger’s roar symbolizes the gathering of Jing and Qi. The point here is that the body must not move without cause; otherwise Jing and Qi will be difficult to gather, and the alchemical work will fail.

“Earth” refers to Kun, which symbolizes the body. When the body is still and settled, the tiger gives a long roar; when the body is restless, the tiger runs about. The tiger’s roar is a metaphor for Jing and Qi gathering, while its running about is a metaphor for Jing and Qi dissipating. “Earth lacking” means that the body is unsettled; “Ren and Gui running about” means that Jing and Qi are leaking outward. Practitioners must be vigilant about this.

The heart is the foundation of cultivating nature and life. Bing and Ding belong to Fire and symbolize the heart. When the heart is settled, the dragon gives a long cry; when the heart is unsettled, the dragon runs about. The dragon’s cry is a metaphor for the breath remaining contained, while its running about is a metaphor for the breath dispersing. “The heart stirs” means that heart-fire flares upward; “Bing and Ding take flight” means that the breath scatters. These lines use the tiger and dragon, along with the timing of the fire, as metaphors for lead flying off and mercury running away—that is, a state in which Jing and Qi cannot gather and Shen and Qi cannot settle.

“Master” refers to the original nature of true suchness, the primordial spirit that remains undestroyed through the passage of kalpas. “The Master’s dwelling place” means that the primordial spirit rests in the inner place of cultivation; “the yin demons are subdued” means that desires and passions have ceased. When those who study the Dao settle body and mind, Shen gathers and Qi remains contained.

The sun and moon symbolize the body’s vital essences; “brightness” refers to those essences gathering. With deep practice and cultivation brought to completion, Jing, Qi, and Shen can be refined into a whole, becoming a supreme treasure that radiates light.

“Heaven gives birth to Water as one” corresponds to Jing; “Earth gives birth to Fire as two” corresponds to Qi; “Heaven gives birth to Wood as three” corresponds to Shen. When Jing, Qi, and Shen are refined into one, the three and five return to unity, allowing one to return to the source and origin.

“Metal Duke” is a coded expression formed by adding the character “Duke” beside the character “Metal,” and refers to lead. “Lead dies” means that desire is exhausted and thoughts of passion have ceased; the sacred embryo, the inner result of cultivation, takes shape, and the infant appears.

“One” is the generating number of Water, a metaphor for Jing, and is used as another name for lead. “Two” is the generating number of Fire, a metaphor for Qi, and is used as another name for cinnabar. “Three” is the generating number of Wood, a metaphor for Shen, and is used as another name for mercury. The “Three Palaces” are the respective palaces where Jing, Qi, and Shen reside.

“Metal Duke of the Eastern Sea, a hundred times refined” describes the repeated refinement of Metal Duke (lead).

“East Sea” symbolizes a person’s innate nature, while “Golden Lord” symbolizes a person’s emotions. They are also different names for “lead” and “mercury.” When emotions return to their source in innate nature, it is like refining something with fire: only through repeated tempering can it become a precious treasure.

People already possess within themselves the basic conditions needed for cultivation: the substance and function of the Golden Elixir. Everyone has a natural seed within the body; to seek it outside the body is a mistake. The “Original Essence” within the body is the function of the Golden Elixir, while the “Original Qi in the heart” is its root. Here, “Golden Elixir” refers to the elixir formed by refining the body’s and mind’s essence and Qi in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

“Palace of Gen” refers to a location within the body and also belongs to Earth. “Wooden Fluid” refers to mercury; together they are called “mercury in the cinnabar sand,” the root materials of the Golden Elixir. The author worries that students may have no way to understand the method, so he reluctantly uses these names to explain it.

“On the Golden Elixir…”