《玄宗直指万法同归》Vol. 3

The Way of enduring constancy has no coming or going, no departures or returns. Since ancient times, the generation of all things has had no fixed beginning. It is only because there is a source that gives life without end that the myriad forms of ghosts and spirits have come into being.

That deep and mysterious source, which transforms and generates all things, is the mother of them all.

The empty, vast, and silent Way of enduring constancy has no coming or going, no departures or returns. Since ancient times, the generation of all things has had no fixed beginning. It is only because there is a source that gives life without end that the myriad forms of ghosts and spirits have come into being.

Mysterious upon mysterious, it is the gateway to every wonder.

Gazing into the distance toward Peach Blossom Spring, the road seems long and faint; travelers stare wistfully at the rosy clouds. Who could know that deep among layer upon layer of mountains and waters, one can already be home without traveling any distance?

The Valley Spirit—the Way, empty and still like a valley, yet able to transform and generate all things—never dies.

Its numinous radiance has inspired awe from ancient times to the present. Who can recognize the opening that leads to the root? Even as the fire of a cosmic calamity burns fiercely, it remains whole and unharmed; through the cycles of life and death, it is untouched.

The infant has not yet begun to laugh.

The wood maiden, symbolizing the spirit embryo born of inner cultivation, is at a critical moment in gestation. Unaware and unhearing, yet wondrous beyond measure; soft as a fine jade cream, round as the full moon. The marvel of this experience can only be known for oneself.

One who does not understand the constant Way will bring calamity upon themselves through reckless action.

To whom can I tell this tender, passionate longing? This devoted heart is known only to my jade-like beloved. Alas, the palace grasses turn green year after year. Why has the young nobleman been gone so long without returning?

I do not know its name; I reluctantly call it “the Way.”

Ever since moving into the deep, verdant mountains, I have stopped keeping track of the calendar and counting the years. Peach blossoms red, plum blossoms white, roses purple—even the Spring Lord Dongjun could not say how time has passed.

To give it a name is merely to call it something at random. It clearly exists, yet is formless by nature. Even a master painter could not depict it; those who copy its appearance merely invite ridicule.

Know the white and keep to the black: understand what is manifest while holding to what is hidden and obscure.

Once you have let down the fishing line, you should reel it in. Who can keep holding a fishing rod aloft forever? The greedy fisherman tries to hook the moon in the middle of the river, only to stir up waves and leave behind sorrow for the ages.

Know the white and keep to the black: understand what is manifest while holding to what is hidden and obscure.

Once you have let down the fishing line, you should reel it in. Who can keep holding a fishing rod aloft forever? The greedy fisherman tries to hook the moon in the middle of the river, only to stir up waves and leave behind sorrow for the ages.

The Way gives rise to One.

All kinds of transformations—Two, Three, Four, Five, and beyond—come from it. The myriad things multiply and intertwine like tangled hemp. People search for the source at the very beginning, not knowing that the source itself has nowhere to return.

To leave behind all distinctions and attachments is called the wondrous Way.

Among the myriad things, only the Great Dao is manifest. Not even the slightest thing can come close to it. If you still seek elsewhere for the wondrous principle that transcends distinctions, you could wait until the Year of the Donkey and still never find the true Dao.

Once form, name, and things have all been seen through, only emptiness remains. Mind, body, and external things are all originally empty. Even if awakening becomes perfectly clear, do not cling to “awakening.” Do not think that “emptiness” means nothingness or annihilation. The Great Dao is always manifest, alone within the Great Void.

What cannot be seen is called “Subtle”; what cannot be heard is called “Mysterious”; what cannot be grasped is called “Indiscernible.” (“Subtle, Mysterious, and Indiscernible” come from the Dao De Jing and describe the Great Dao as beyond sight, hearing, and touch.)

When Li Si’s mind grows confused, all kinds of images arise. Do not think that “emptiness” means nothingness or annihilation. The Great Dao is always manifest in the Great Void. What cannot be seen is called “Subtle,” what cannot be heard is called “Mysterious,” and what cannot be grasped is called “Indiscernible.”

When Li Si’s mind is clouded, dark spirits appear; when Zhang San’s eyes are diseased, he sees flowers floating in the air. Since ancient times, nothing has been available for people to grasp through mysterious words. To boast that one understands the “Subtle, Mysterious, and Indiscernible” is merely empty self-praise.

Shun asked Ji, “Can the Dao be claimed as one’s own?” Ji replied, “Your own body does not belong to you. How, then, could you possess the Great Dao?”

There is profound meaning both in where the question is asked and where the answer is given. Who could explain what is conveyed between them? His meaning reaches beyond form and language, yet when he speaks there is no trace of deliberate artifice.

Nie Que asked Wang Ni four times, and each time Wang Ni replied that he did not know.

One’s own mind cannot be made an object for oneself to know. Four questions were only a vain effort to discuss it. With a mind like a withered tree and a body like dead ashes, one clings to nothing at all. Where, then, could Wang Ni be found?

Nan Guo Zicha leaned against a table, raised his head toward the sky, and sighed. Calm and dazed, he seemed to have forgotten everything that stood apart from him.

Zijing leaned against a table, raised his head and sighed, forgetting the things set against him and even letting go of feeling. He sat silent as a fool. To know the intimate truth of his state, wait for the mists and clouds to clear, leaving only a solitary moon.

The sage forgets the body in order to nurture Qi; forgets Qi in order to nurture Shen; then forgets Shen and returns to the realm of emptiness.

Forget body, Qi, and Shen, and cultivate the realm of the mysterious Void; then one accords with the reality of the Dao. Let go of the dust of knowledge, distinctions, and emotion, and there is no longer any insistence on asking: Who is the original person?

Miscellaneous Hymns

Two Poems on Sudhana’s Journey South

Now that I have been roaming the world, finding a place to stay is no easy matter. Why not take your qin and sword and return to your hometown? You have been single-mindedly chasing knowledge and experiences, only to earn an empty reputation that has spread throughout the world.

I have never thought much of Sudhana, the Buddhist pilgrim who visits wise teachers in search of the Dharma. He traveled through hundreds of cities, calling on teachers wherever he pleased. In the end, the teachings of all those wise teachers along the road were no more than poison poured down his throat.

Sudhana beholds the magnificent splendor of Maitreya’s pavilion.

Maitreya’s pavilion opens in an instant, as if waking from a dream of the land of Huaxu, that legendary realm of perfection. Where are those countless splendid sights now? All that remains is to sing “Falling Plum Blossoms” to the spring wind.

The Dragon Girl offers a jewel, then turns south and becomes a Buddha. Two poems.

As soon as the Dragon Girl offered the jewel, the matter was settled. The Dharma King’s way of teaching makes no distinction between near and far. All beings possess this jewel—why did only she know to turn around and become a Buddha?

She paints her brows and dresses in the latest fashion: a graceful beauty from the Dragon Palace. She offered the jewel not to obtain Buddhahood; Bing and Ding, the Heavenly Stems associated with the Fire phase, already signify the south.

The twenty-five methods of practice in the Scripture of Perfect Enlightenment. Two poems.

The methods alternate with one another, but how can one know which truly accords? However much you rack your brains, you will find no end to it. If you keep searching before and after the Five Wheels, you only add another body of trouble beyond your own.

Let branches and leaves grow, and the paths will multiply. The direct way has never involved coming or going. If you can hit the mark every time, like an archer who shoots through poplar leaves and willow branches, why not pierce the Three Barriers with a single arrow?

The true nature of the four elements in the Shurangama Sutra is emptiness.

The subtle reality of the four elements is originally empty: pure, perfectly integrated, and pervasive throughout the Dharma realm. Who says true emptiness is opposed to the four elements? It is plainly like the sun shining overhead at midnight.

The Buddha’s Nirvana.

The Buddha used birth and death to bring birth and death to an end, explaining to beings among humans and gods the coming and going of life and death. If you still believe that whatever is born must perish, you have not truly understood Nirvana.

Permanence, bliss, self, and purity: the four qualities of Nirvana.

To cling to the ideas of permanence, bliss, self, and purity is like adding a handle to a bowl. The adamantine, profound Dharma-body cannot be touched at will by sentient beings.

The Buddha’s Nirvana.

The Buddha used birth and death to bring birth and death to an end, explaining to beings among humans and gods the coming and going of life and death. If you still believe that whatever is born must perish, you have not truly understood Nirvana.

Permanence, bliss, self, and purity: the four qualities of Nirvana.

If practitioners cling to “permanence, bliss, self, and purity”—the four pure virtues in Buddhism—they are like adding another handle to a monk’s alms bowl, only creating another attachment. The firm, pure, and inconceivable Dharma body, the true body inherent in all beings, cannot be defined by beings through discriminating thought.

Unmoving Suchness

If you call it “unmoving suchness,” meaning true suchness that does not change and rests in stillness, the name itself is like a bubble or a dream. Even if you feel in this moment that you have realized the truth, what good is it if you still cling stubbornly to a single thought?

The Four Marks of the Diamond Sutra

There was never a mark of self or a mark of others. Where, then, could a mark of a living being or a mark of a lifespan come from? When the Immortal of Forbearance had his body cut apart, who, in truth, was undergoing it? Even now, no one has seen the real meaning of this event.

The Diamond Sutra’s Four-Line Verse (II)

The four-line verse in the classic is just so. To search for it only in the scripture is to turn things upside down. Once you stop insisting on seeking outward, returning to the original mind lets you understand. O Heaven, stop crying out to Heaven.

Seeking the Dao

If you take sounds and visible forms as proof of the Dao, you have strayed onto a crooked path. The more you try to grasp it through knowledge and feeling, the deeper you sink. The Dao is right here amid White Cloud Peak’s pure, natural stillness. Why wear out your straw sandals searching everywhere?

Fish-Basket Guanyin

Barefoot, lifting her robe, she walks to the shore, carrying a live golden-scaled fish in her basket. Who could she sell this fish to, someone who would understand its value? Only its former master, who once crossed the Dragon Gate—the one able to recognize its true worth.

Fish-Basket Guanyin

Barefoot, lifting her robe, she walks to the shore, carrying a live golden-scaled fish in her basket. The earlier lines—“The more you try to grasp it through knowledge and feeling, the deeper you sink. The Dao is right here amid White Cloud Peak’s pure, natural stillness. Why wear out your straw sandals searching everywhere?”—emphasize that the Dao is not found by chasing after things outside oneself, but by realizing it within one’s own mind.

Lingzhao the Woman

Lingzhao the woman sells bamboo strainers at a crossroads. What principle is hidden in these strainers, and who knows it? They are things everyone has in daily life, yet no one wants them. So whom is she asking her daughter to take them out and sell them to?

The Cloth-Bag Monk

The Cloth-Bag Monk drags his large bag into the marketplace, laughing and clowning in the streets each day. When someone asks him about the “meaning of the West”—the purpose of the Buddhist teaching transmitted from the West—he joins his palms and stands before them.

Hanshan and Shide Laugh Together

When the two meet, they clap their hands and laugh aloud, saying, “They truly can’t help themselves.” Only they understand what their laughter means; no one else knows what it holds.

Zhongli Refines the Elixir

Zhongli practices the methods of the seven returns and nine reversals, refining a Golden Elixir. The key lies in mastering the timing of the paired wheels of fire—the turning of Yin and Yang in cultivation. The furnace does not refine ordinary medicines; once the Elixir is complete, every pellet is as precious as a sovereign.

Lu Immortal’s Flying Sword

Lu Immortal forges essence and Qi into gold, the sword’s light sharp as autumn. This sword is not for showing off its might or making feudal lords submit. Once the six thieves—the six sensory desires that disturb the mind—and the three corpses, the spirits or harmful thoughts said in Daoism to damage body and mind, have been cut down, its cold gleam shines night after night toward the Dipper and Ox constellations.

The immortal, staff in hand, drifts back to the land of flowing sands. A faint divine radiance appears, reflecting brilliant rosy clouds. After he rides away on his blue ox, who knows whose home that round moon will next grace? When the moonlight at last pierces the “Six Thieves”—the six sensory desires that disturb the mind—and the “Three Corpses”—the three spirits said to dwell within the body, also a name for distracting thoughts that obstruct cultivation—it shines with cold light night after night, straight toward the stars Dou and Niu.

Laojun’s Blue Ox

The immortal, staff in hand, drifts back to the land of flowing sands. His divine radiance is faint, reflecting rosy clouds. After he rides away on his blue ox, who knows whose home that round moon will next grace?

The Master’s Hanging Gourd

In the bustle of the marketplace, the master hangs up a gourd. Yet within it seems to lie a vast, boundless world of mystery. He turns and leaps into the gourd; to him, this is nothing out of the ordinary. But tell me: can anyone else grasp its wonder?

Chen Tuan Carrying a Qin

Chen Tuan, as he is commonly known in Daoist circles, travels along with a qin on his back. The instrument has no strings, and though he plays a tune, few can answer it. All his life, he instead laughed at those who knew only the story of Yu Boya and Zhong Ziqi: they could hear only the sound beneath the strings.

Joining with Difference

A wooden ball walks upright, never stopping; with hands crossed, even Mount Kunlun seems unable to take a step. Open your eyes, and the stone lion fills the room with the feeling of spring. The pregnant wooden woman reflects the moonlight at the second watch of the night.

To make the “turtle’s nose” die, you must make it die; then the black dragon in stagnant water must be brought back to life. If you can grasp the mystery of these four lines, you may ascend first to the jeweled hall of the “King of Emptiness,” a title for the Buddha.

Leaving Far from Illusion

Originally there is no illusion, and nothing needs to be left behind; the name “leaving illusion” is itself not awakening. If you try to make an illusory mind rely on another illusion in order to destroy it, illusory flowers in the empty sky will go on dancing as before.

An Explanation of a Hymn by Fu Dashi

Empty hands, yet it is as if one holds a hoe; though external things change, inner wisdom does not move. Walking as if riding a water buffalo; though the outer world changes, the human heart does not waver.

The person is gone, yet illusory flowers still dance in the empty sky.

An Explanation of a Hymn by Fu Dashi

Empty hands, yet it is as if one holds a hoe; though external things change, inner wisdom does not move. Walking as if riding a water buffalo; though the outer world changes, the human heart does not waver.

A person crosses a bridge: the body moves, but principle does not. The bridge seems to flow, while the water appears still. Though the forms and colors of external things change, the mind within is not carried along.

A Verse in Praise of the Nirvana Sutra

All things in the world that are conditioned are impermanent. What is there that is not so?

In the morning, the trees stand covered in blossoms, bright red. By evening, the flowers have fallen, and the branches are bare. If flowers are used as a metaphor for the things of this world, their flourishing and decline are no different from the changes of human life.

This is the law of arising and ceasing; once here, no one can easily pass beyond it.

All things with form and color are bound to change and perish; things without feeling or awareness cannot escape this either. Heaven, earth, and all things are like this. I wonder whether you can understand.

To bring arising and ceasing to an end, you must understand it in this way.

Everything in the past has opened out and dissolved, yet has not been destroyed. The future seems about to occur, yet has not truly arisen. Everything seen before us, too, abides in suchness—the unchanging, impartial reality—and birth and death have been set aside. Even if others call midday the middle of the night, this does not shake us.

Quiescent extinction is bliss. From this, one can understand the principle of reverence.

When you meet a true swordsman, you should draw your sword. If you meet no one who understands poetry, do not offer him a poem. When those who understand one another meet, a snap of the fingers is enough to signal their meaning. How many people can understand this intention?

The Direct Indication of the Mysterious Source: The Myriad Dharmas Return to One, Volume Five, ends here.

The Direct Indication of the Mysterious Source: The Myriad Dharmas Return to One, Volume Six

Written by Mu Changchao of Yangshan Daoist Abbey in Jian’an; edited by his disciple, Yishan Huang Benren.

Twelve Songs on Illuminating Both Sides

True wind, fire, and water, along with true earth and emptiness, all converge in emptiness—the nature in which all things lack fixed selfhood and are interconnected. This is the authentic transmission from before Heaven, precisely the Tathāgatagarbha, the innate awakened nature of all beings, and also perfect penetration.

The Buddha who was already present before Heaven is called Many Treasures; the Buddha who came later, Shakyamuni, bears the name Shakya. The two Buddhas were originally together in one stupa, reflecting one another. The principles of nature and life do not differ between them.

The numbers of Heaven and Earth together make fifty-five. When Sudhana visited teachers, he passed through fifty-three teachings. Add Vairocana Buddha and himself, and the total is exactly fifty-five, corresponding to Heaven and Earth.

From beginning to end, the Avataṃsaka Sūtra speaks of “ten,” in accord with the foundation of Heaven and Earth. Nature and life, Yin and Yang, are established through this as well; one cannot say that the Buddha’s teaching exists only in one corner.

True emptiness is still, yet can give rise to wondrous existence; wondrous existence, too, is inseparable from true emptiness. True emptiness and wondrous existence interpenetrate without obstruction, and all phenomena return to quiescent illumination.

The awakened mind and the awakened body are originally like illusions. People extol nature and life, Yin and Yang, but this is merely attachment to names and forms. One should cling neither to nonbeing nor being, neither to being nor nonbeing. Only by understanding this does one know that within emptiness there are no real flowers.

The Dharma realm is vast and all-pervading, containing all things. It connects Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—and all beings interpenetrate without obstruction. All phenomena return to quiescent illumination.

The awakened mind and the awakened body are originally like illusions. People extol nature and life, Yin and Yang, but this is merely attachment to names and forms. One should cling neither to nonbeing nor being, neither to being nor nonbeing. Only by understanding this does one know that within emptiness there are no real flowers.

The realm of the Dao (the Way) is vast and boundless. It embraces and connects the entire Dharma realm, and runs through Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—as well as all things in the world.

Do not think that this teaching speaks of annihilation or nothingness. It describes the clear and subtle “being” that appears from within true emptiness.

The wondrous substance of true emptiness remains sincere and unchanged. When the heart is sincere, spiritual awareness appears, and one’s nature becomes clear of itself.

Within the state of “emptiness that is not empty,” wisdom arises. Clinging to a stubborn, lifeless emptiness is not true emptiness.

Through countless kalpas, it has remained in vast stillness, pure and lucid, yet beyond the grasp of human understanding.

All the myriad forms of Heaven and Earth appear from it, while its constant, still true light remains unmoved.

Open and free yourself from the bonds formed by the Five Skandhas—the form, feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness that make up the body and experience—and dispel the eighteen layers of Yin demons, the negative forces that disturb body and mind during cultivation.

In this very moment, every method is swept away completely, and only the expanse of emptiness, vast as the Great Void, continually comes to light.

It is like a thousand lamps lit in one room, or countless mirrors reflecting one another.

Layer upon layer appears, with nothing obstructing anything else. Even so, though all things fill the ten directions, their true nature remains utterly unmoved.

Before Heaven and Earth took form, the realm of emptiness already existed. All things arise from emptiness, and emptiness in turn gives rise to all things, as though the Qian Way—the force symbolizing Heaven and the masculine—began here.

The Qian Way divides and becomes the Kun Way, symbolizing Earth and the feminine. This current of Qi flows without ceasing, moving through all things.

Ancient Meaning

Before seeing the plum blossoms, one sees only cold mountain ridges and broad streams. After seeing them, one sees their solitary distinction, their elegance untouched by worldly dust.

Three or four plum blossoms, white as ice and snow; their sparse shadows slant across the dusk beneath the moon. O plum blossoms, O plum blossoms—you face me, quietly saying nothing.

The sun sinks behind the western hills, and the evening mist has just cleared. The distant city of Chang’an stretches for ten thousand li, reflected in the scenes of autumn.

Sandpipers rest at ease, leaving no trace of their passage. The moon has just risen, and the water flows quietly. Old fisherman, old fisherman, fishing alone from a lonely boat.

I gaze toward the one who will come, imagining his voice and features. Will he ever return? My heart longs for him, my thoughts flowing on without end.

By a strange coincidence, he comes; in an instant, we meet. I ask what he means by his words, but their meaning is beyond exhaustion. That person, that person—

I gaze toward the one who will come, imagining his voice and features. Will he ever return? My heart longs for him, my thoughts flowing on without end.

By a strange coincidence, he comes; in an instant, we meet. I ask what he means by his words, but their meaning is beyond exhaustion. That person, that person, silent and wordless, faces the spring wind alone.

Mountain ridges rise one after another, and white clouds roll on in great waves. You still have not returned, as though you have lost your way far away.

The flock of geese is silent, as though even their cries cannot carry into the distance. Thinking of those who will come later, I cannot help but feel a kind of sorrow. They come and go—why have they still not returned?

The wind sweeps the clouds away without a trace. The sky is like a sheet of white silk, clear and translucent.

All around is still; nothing in the world makes a sound. A solitary moon hangs bright in the sky. At this moment, who could understand what I feel within? The sunset glows red at the edge of the sky.

The distant water’s edge is faintly visible, with wild grasses trailing softly. The old man in his rain cape has finished fishing from a moss-covered rocky outcrop. Sails skim swiftly across the water, as though flying; an empty boat returns carrying the moonlight.

Trees rustle, and beneath the setting sun the scene seems withered. All things change in a profusion of forms—who can understand the constant principle within them?

The green mountains stretch far away, and clouds and mist drift without end. This scene is rich with meaning, but who gazes toward me from afar?

Evening unsettles the heart as the sun sinks lower. All things change in a profusion of forms—who can understand the constant principle within them?

The green mountains stretch far away, and clouds and mist drift without end. This scene is rich with meaning, but who gazes toward me from afar?

Dusk leaves the spirit uneasy; few can perceive the truth amid obscurity. People rush about in every direction, but who can use the pivotal secret to quiet the spirit?

Birds take flight, the grasses trail softly, and a light rain falls. My Way is plain and peaceful, but who knows how to return?

Unexpectedly Beyond

Heavy clouds hang low, slow to disperse; a strong wind sweeps them away, and with them the heart opens into ease.

No veil can remain around the solitary moon; across ten thousand miles, the vast sky is equally clear in the autumn night.

Turning the Gaze Inward

When not a single thought arises, one can experience principle and circumstance as fused. Even in emptiness, one does not cling to the thought of “emptiness.”

In unknowing and unawareness, who is the master? All forms return to a state of stillness and luminous clarity.

The One

When ten thousand people share one heart, even Heaven’s will cannot oppose them; when ten thousand people each harbor different thoughts, Heaven’s will likewise cannot oppose them. If a state flourishes or falls, what could cause it if not the hearts of its people? When one person has a single-minded heart, Heaven’s will cannot oppose it; when one person’s thoughts are confused, Heaven’s will likewise cannot oppose it. If one’s own life ends in ruin and the Way’s lineage falls into disorder, what could be responsible if not one’s thoughts?

Nonduality

The sage’s mind remains unwaveringly focused, and neither Heaven nor Earth can oppose it. The sage’s standards remain unwaveringly focused, and neither ghosts nor spirits can oppose them. The sage’s words remain unwaveringly focused, and no one under Heaven can oppose them. The sage’s Dao remains unwaveringly focused and has never changed through the ages. If someone can hold fast to this single focus, then all things between Heaven and Earth return to unity, and Heaven and Earth cannot oppose them.

The Heart as the Source

The body is the dwelling place of the heart, and the heart is the foundation of the Dao. When body and heart open into clear understanding, the myriad transformations reveal themselves as empty and still. When the myriad transformations return to emptiness and stillness, the heart’s foundation also becomes clear. Even the slightest deviation in a thought can send it wandering in every direction, away from the right path.

Being and Nonbeing

Say there is no Dao, and yet there is Dao; say there is no heart, and yet there is a heart. By clinging to neither being nor nonbeing, one transcends the distinctions between past and present. Speak of being, and in the end it returns to nonbeing. Say nothing of being or nonbeing, and both are contained everywhere. Only by refusing to be bound by words and writing can one remain in lasting accord with Heaven and Earth.

Not Knowing

Not clinging to knowledge is true knowing; clinging to knowledge is not true knowing. Understand why knowledge can go astray, and the principles of past and present can be brought into accord. When the heart assumes it knows, what it knows has already departed from reality. To rest peacefully without clinging to views and knowledge—is that what we call the mysterious? Others may say I know, but in truth I do not know. Others may judge something right, but I need not agree; they may judge it wrong, but I need not reject it.

Not Being Deluded

When others grieve, I grieve too; when others laugh, I laugh too. By not opposing the feelings of ordinary people, the mysterious appears naturally. One need not deliberately conceal oneself in cultivating the Dao, nor deliberately reveal oneself. One need not imagine oneself uniquely awakened, nor deliberately pretend to be foolish. When the Dao arrives, respond to change; then, having responded, guide change with composure. Amid acceptance and resistance, silently discern what is true and false. Words of Dao cultivation can blend with everyday speech, and everyday speech can also contain the Dao. The ways of the world and the way of the Dao operate on different levels; what matters is settling each upon its proper foundation.

Inner and Outer

The gold and silver, treasures, and worldly honors and riches before us are different from the treasures of the heart and inner abundance. Worldly riches nourish the ordinary body; the heart’s treasures nourish the luminous spirit. Worldly riches are ultimately illusory, while the heart’s treasures can preserve one’s true nature.

The Outer

The gold and silver, treasures, and worldly honors and riches before us are different from the treasures of the heart and inner abundance. Worldly riches nourish the ordinary body; the heart’s treasures nourish the luminous spirit. Worldly riches are ultimately illusory, while the heart’s treasures can preserve one’s true nature. When the body perishes, worldly riches are lost with it; the heart’s treasures are never lost. Alas, these two choices lie before you. Which will you choose? Your own heart must decide.

The Human Heart

The human mind can roam through the four quarters of heaven and earth in an instant. At times it is like a falcon swooping on a hare, at times like a fine horse chasing the wind. It is like water and fire rushing in turn, thunder and lightning flashing against each other, a gale whipping up dust, or fierce waves pounding a cleft in the rocks. It resembles blades and spears crossing in battle, or the Celestial River pouring down. Thoughts tumble on without end, wandering day and night; not even for a moment can they settle in the “abode of Shen” (the place where the spirit rests). Thus the sages of antiquity tirelessly sought peace of mind, observing their own minds for six or nine years without ever letting up. Alas, among all the people under heaven, who truly knows their own mind?

A Verse for the Opening of Yangshan’s Teaching Hall

Without having learned to their fill, they leave the Chan hall; when the meal is served, they wash their bowls and return. If one could settle in the abode of Shen in an instant, the sages of antiquity would tirelessly seek the mind, observing it for six or nine years without interruption. Alas, among all the people under heaven, who truly knows their own mind?

Without having learned to their fill, they leave the Chan hall; when the meal is served, they wash their bowls and return. If even a single grain of rice remains in the mind, one will be preoccupied with the Five Sacred Peaks and the Three Terraces (the Five Sacred Peaks are five famous mountains; the Three Terraces is the name of a constellation and can also refer to high-ranking official posts).

A Verse on the “One Aggregate” in the Jing of the Golden Vajra

Between heaven and earth, all things have their complementary aspects. Odd and even numbers meet, Yin and Yang join together, and so the myriad things take shape through numbers such as one, two, three, and four.

If the ancients wrote even one character incorrectly or left one out, they would still suffer the karmic retribution of being a wild fox for five hundred kalpas. People today speak wrongly without a thought, and their offenses are ten thousand times graver than the karma of a wild fox.

Those who have not realized the truth yet claim that they have are as numerous as the sands of the Ganges; those who have not attained it yet claim that they have are as plentiful as hemp. Whoever slanders the great Prajñā (great wisdom; the Prajñā scriptures) handed down by the ancients will take the hells of the Three Paths as their home forever.

Purity and Defilement

A stream of clear water fouled with filth makes passersby turn their eyes away and refuse to look.

A stream of clear water enriched with wondrous fragrance makes passersby compete to taste it.

Purity delights people; filth repels them. The paths of good and evil must be judged by one’s own mind.

The Self

Everyone is Laozi; each person is Maitreya (the name of the future Buddha). They spend all day in their own company without realizing it, and for years go searching everywhere outside themselves.

They bustle about, traveling between the south and north of the Yangtze, and hurrying along both banks of the Huai River and through Zhejiang. Some keep watch over ancient tombs and live in thatched huts; some even become mountain sprites. Everyone is Maitreya, yet all day they sit face to face with themselves without knowing it, spending years searching outside.

Some people bustle about, traveling between the lands south and north of the Yangtze, laboring across Huainan, Huaibei, and the Two Zhejiang regions. Some keep watch over ancient tombs and live in thatched huts; others become mountain sprites or wanderers on the water.

They sit in a dark cave, dazed and unaware, yet take this condition to be the spiritual consciousness—the mind’s awareness—that can discern life and death. They call it the source of the Great Dao, when in truth they are like someone who has lost a child and mistakes a thief for that child.

Tell those who truly study the Dao: take realization of one’s nature as your standard, and understand the principle through awakening. Even after understanding it, you must know that you have not yet understood it completely. And once you have gained some insight, you must still put it into practice.

Go and ask the skeleton: when will it be free of this burning house—the world of dust, full of affliction and suffering?

The Difficulty of Accomplishing the Dao

The myriad phenomena of the world and their principles are vast and boundless, yet only the mind of Heaven is truly impartial. Earning a place on the imperial examination list is not difficult; seeking the Dao amid the world of dust is exceedingly difficult.

If you do not understand what truly governs the myriad phenomena, you merely follow the paths laid down by the ancients. Billions of people speak of this principle, but how many have truly grasped the state of unbornness, beyond arising and passing away?

The Difficulty of Studying the Dao

A ladder can be made from rabbit horns, a whisk from tortoise hair, and a bird can carry away a mountain. Even these impossible things are easier to seek than putting aside deluded thoughts and devoting oneself to studying the Dao.

The Difficulty of Awakening to the Dao

Giving up the throne and taking leave of the ruler are ordinary matters; burning one’s body or severing an arm is not difficult either. Only when you understand that there is nothing to cling to as something to realize or attain through cultivation do you know how difficult awakening to the Dao is.

The Difficulty of Attaining the Dao

A drop of water on a hair’s tip could dry up the sea, and the point of a needle no larger than a mustard seed could easily contain all things. Reading five cartloads of books and mastering the Three Baskets of Buddhist scriptures still do not reach the subtle truth. Nothing in the world is more difficult than attaining the Dao.

Hard to Find

Songs from Ba and melodies from Yue have circulated in abundance from ancient times to the present, but few can join in singing the elegant “Snow Melody.” Can one still meet someone like Boya today? Finding a kindred spirit like Ziqi in this world is truly difficult. The story of Boya and Zhong Ziqi is often used to describe how hard it is to find someone who truly understands you.

Hard to Walk

The road twists and turns, blocked ahead; white clouds and green mountains rise in layer upon layer, barring the way. The traveler gazes into the distance in sorrow, pointing toward the far-off horizon and sighing in vain. Who can reach the highest peak that touches the sky?

Hard to Believe

The level Great Dao is broad and easy to follow, yet among the people of this age, few can recognize it when it is explained to them. Looking back toward one’s homeland, who would be willing to believe? The setting sun falls on wild grasses, leaving only a lingering scene of reluctant parting.

Hard to Speak Of

The Great Dao is deep and still, indistinct and formless, as though it had no origin. It exists independently of Yin-Yang transformations and numerical or trigram-based methods of inference. Every art in the world can be learned; only this is so difficult to explain.

Difficult to Put into Words

The Dao’s substance is hidden and still, as though it had no source. It does not come into being through the transformations of Yin-Yang or the patterns and calculations of the trigrams. The world is full of wondrous arts that can be learned, but this is the hardest thing to explain.

Four Poems on Bringing Perception to an End

All things between Heaven and Earth appear clearly before us. When the mind that makes distinctions is forgotten, all things seem to vanish. Forget even Qi and Shen; let the awareness that perceives all things come to rest. When the mind is vast and still, where can one find the “I” that exists now?

Even the slightest thought in the mind seems to obstruct the state within the heart, separating it from its original condition. Even if one imagines oneself shining forth alone, radiant and clear, that too is a false perception. Who, then, can know that hidden and wondrous emptiness?

Once you recognize the foundation of the Mysterious Origin and the Great Dao, practice should move from purposeful effort—deliberate work and specific methods—toward Wuwei (non-action), without attachment to human contrivance. If you do not know how to transcend, but cling stubbornly to a particular method, you are like someone whose house has fallen into ruin yet insists that its owner cannot leave.

Those with shallow understanding read these words and suppose they concern the cultivation of yin spirits, or that they belong to Chan Buddhism. In truth, they do not understand the wondrous principles of the Great Elixir (Daoist Neidan practice) and perfect awakening: Śākyamuni himself has long been honored as a Golden Immortal.

Keeping the End in Mind

The changes of impermanence press upon us day after day. From this moment on, we should live prepared for death to arrive at any time. Withered willow branches and fading flowers are signs of old age; worldly possessions are as insubstantial as duckweed that gathers and drifts apart, especially in times of chaos.

The ancient Dao fades as worldly customs take hold. Before the years of youth have passed, white hair has already arrived. A person is like a turtle tucked inside its shell, yet still cannot escape danger—how much more so if they stick out their head to invite trouble?

Mid-Autumn at Fifty

Favor and disgrace pass in an instant, like bubbles and illusions. All that the ears hear and the eyes see is likewise insubstantial. Only when the heart accords with the Way of Heaven and returns to balance can it be at peace; one should also pursue reason to its end, then stop at what is fitting.

All things between Heaven and Earth stretch out in a vast expanse and may be illusory. In this busy life, what is there worth pursuing? Pray, let me ask the bright moon at the center of the sky: how many autumns can a person still have after reaching fifty?

The Dao Endures

There is no need to be alarmed by thinning hair or lost teeth. Fortunately, the true heart remains unchanged. My Dao does not grow old, from ancient times to the present; it is only this body that cannot attain long life, from beginning to end.

Only when a hundred rivers flow into the sea does their current return to its proper course. The bright moon hangs in the sky, and its light is naturally clear. If concern for worldly affairs still cannot be dispelled from the heart, one must keep practicing letting go, until the heart is empty of attachment.

Returning to Reality

Before awakening to the Dao, one merely speaks in vain of nature and life as separate things—the concepts concerning innate nature and life in Daoist cultivation. This is like a monkey leaping among the trees, or a wheel of fire whose shifting lights turn without end. These principles must be put into practice. Who has never carried a thought of emptiness in their heart?

It is only because the toil of the worldly realm obscures the original mind that people gradually lose their innate clarity. When the heart is always filled with worldly worries, they are hard to dispel. Letting go of every attachment is the cultivation that should guide daily life.

Returning to Reality

Those who have not awakened to the Dao often view nature and life, and the different teachings, as separate matters. Their thoughts are unsettled, like monkeys leaping through the trees or a wheel of fire spinning swiftly. Such principles must be brought back to reality: whose heart can truly be entirely free of emptiness and attachment?

It is only because the hardships of the worldly realm create obscuration that awakened nature loses its clarity and openness. If one can quietly observe and seek guidance from others, the principles of human life can, in fact, all be understood as interconnected.

Plain and Clear

The ancestral masters of the lineage had nothing in particular to pass on to others. Only when mind confirms mind can the teaching be truly received. If one does not understand how Yin-Yang gives rise to and nurtures things, how can one recognize the original mind through which Heaven and Earth bring forth life without end?

Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—have their distinctions of above and below, yet how has the fundamental principle that runs through them ever been severed, from ancient times to the present? This is plain to see; why go searching everywhere, east and west?

Quiet Observation

Sitting in stillness, examine and reflect carefully: what in this world counts as short, and what as long? From ancient times to the present, people have shared the same Heaven and Earth. Dynasties have risen and fallen, emperors have succeeded one another—how many such changes have there been?

Every stretch of mountain and river has been a battlefield, and the plants and trees everywhere have witnessed people chasing fame and profit. All things in the world change swiftly and seem impermanent; only the original mind remains constant.

Fundamentally One

Confucianism and Daoism are both admired by the world for their wisdom and intelligence; in their pre-Heavenly source, the two are originally one. Study must reach into what is subtle and profound before words can express it fully. Once one awakens to the true pivot, the principles naturally come together.

How could one govern worldly affairs while forgetting what is right? To bring the heart to joy, one must also arrive at the mysterious realm of emptiness and stillness. Many people are instead troubled by their own intelligence and abilities; even when facing life and death, they remain unable to see through things and attain understanding.

Without Contention

All streams ultimately flow to the same destination. Cultivation calls for single-minded purity and adherence to the middle and upright way. Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism need not conflict with one another, for at their root they all come from the same source.

The poems and books are indeed the foundation for teaching human relationships, while Buddhism and Daoism can also help people understand the mysteries of Heaven and Earth’s transformations. There is no need here to argue over who is right or wrong: one path can open onto the paths of many.

Steadfastness

In daily life, people are always rushing to deal with one matter after another. The mind that guides one’s cultivation, however, should not drift along with the crowd and follow worldly custom. Let the heart be like drifting clouds and flowing water, free of contention, and it can become clear and at ease like the bright moon after rain and a refreshing breeze.

After stillness and composure arise, thoughts appear again; this does not accord with the truth. Once awakened, what cannot return to emptiness? Did the ancients never express the true principle? It is only that ordinary people are attached and obstructed, and have failed to understand it.

Severing Learning

What is called “severing learning” does not mean that books need never be read. To teach and transform people’s hearts still requires the help of written words. Though the root of the Dao cannot be described in words, how can we say that the Three Baskets of Buddhist writings—the sutras, disciplinary texts, and treatises—have not passed down the truth?

In governing worldly affairs, one must put the way of benevolence and righteousness into practice. Those who cultivate the Dao must also discern life and death. Do not dismiss the words used to study the mind and nature. Once one truly awakens to the subtle principle of emptiness, in the end it accords with what the words point toward.

One’s Proper Concern

Reading is ultimately meant to bring understanding of principle; learning the Dao begins with recognizing one’s original mind. If principle is not understood, the books have been read in vain. If the original mind is not made clear, the Dao will be hard to find.

Without the wisdom to transcend life and death, even great intelligence and knowledge of the past and present are of no use. I say to people of the world: examine yourselves and awaken. Do not take things lightly, only to become lost in them in the end.

Following Circumstances

In old age, I leave my movements and actions to Heaven’s arrangements, forming good connections according to my abilities and the opportunities at hand. I do not seek fame in a peaceful and prosperous age; I only hope to pass my remaining years in safety and peace.

Only at this stage of life do I understand what happiness is; only as life draws to a close do I know how to preserve myself. Looking back on the days when I was captured, who could have imagined that I would still be able to write poems today?

Recovery from Illness

Doing good can avert misfortune and extend one’s life. So where should one begin in doing good? The scenery within—the realm of mind and nature that is already complete in itself—remains bright; the Heaven of one’s nature, one’s innate nature, stays clear and radiant like the moon.

Along the road ahead, one should act with kindness and do good every day. Good deeds should be pursued continually, without pause. I say to people of the world: apply yourselves wholeheartedly. A sincere heart of goodness can move Heaven.

Curbing Greed

A calm mind, upright conduct, and adherence to the Dao are good ways to establish oneself in the world. Earning a living through steady, diligent work is better than planning ahead to cultivate blessings and seek rewards. One might spend a thousand days calculating and scheming, perhaps growing rich; but once things fall apart, it is like water poured out—it may be impossible to gather it back.

Desire less, eat a little less, and spend a little less. Do not deceive, covet, or scheme. This is how to live a peaceful and happy life. I urge you not to wait until disaster is upon you before coming to your senses.

Appeasing Demons

It is laughable that people in the world have no sense of shame and do not set their hearts straight or cultivate good intentions. The common people are our own kind, yet people are willing to oppress them. What benefit can ghosts and spirits bring that makes them worth flattering with offerings?

When people in the world fall into hardship, everyone turns a blind eye; retribution in the underworld, however, will come sooner or later. Keep more kind thoughts in your heart and plan for your own future. This is better than spending a fortune in hopes of securing blessings in advance.

Exploiting the People

Living beings do not begin with so many troubles; good and evil alike arise from the mind. The Way of Heaven favors no one, but supports those who have De. Once human relationships change, misfortune can easily follow.

To harm others for one’s own gain while still coveting blessings, and to amass wealth in the name of Buddhism, is no lasting course. The good roots one meant to plant instead become the source of calamity.

The Good of Showing Mercy

Some people fear neither the laws of the state nor the King of the Underworld; they care only for blessings and prayers for long life. If they could truly put themselves in others’ shoes and give more generously, they would do better to collect a little less when lending money.

What is gained by exploiting others and taking their wealth, then using it to make Buddha statues, adorn images of deities, and build religious centers? How much better to treat people generously and demand less from them. This can add to one’s blessings and longevity in the near term, and benefit one’s descendants in the long run.

A General Admonition

Some people love fame and profit, and also enjoy discussing the mysteries of the Dao. They want both to attain the Dao and to start a family, hoping to enjoy the benefits of each. But without understanding the fundamental principles, they are like measuring the sea with a seashell or peering at the sky through a tube: their view is severely limited.

To cling to nothing and let the heart remain untroubled by external things is to draw near to the Dao. How could exhausting yourself and making trouble for others lead to becoming an immortal? I urge all those caught up in the world’s turmoil: when that day comes, the King of the Underworld will reckon the account of your whole life.

A Warning to the World

Alas, human life and worldly affairs seem to circle endlessly, while people are confined by layer upon layer of desire. A hundred-year life is like a dream; a thousand worries and ten thousand plans are no match for a life of ease and freedom.

Do not wait until your hair is white to think of cultivating yourself. Even cinnabar cannot keep your appearance from fading forever. In the end, it is better to be like those who have withdrawn from worldly life and live quietly in seclusion, lying at ease behind closed doors amid the clouds and mist.

Practicing Less

People in the world bustle about, but who has truly grasped that life is impermanent, like floating clouds? All manner of strange talk about emptiness ultimately amounts to wasted effort. Everything under Heaven has its flaws; in the world, only water can avoid contending with others.

Only when the mind is calm and focused can it be free of entanglements; only by pursuing principle to its depths does understanding arise naturally. This Way has been clear and level from ancient times to the present, yet few truly encounter it and set out upon it.

Four Things That Cannot Be

Water cannot wash away accumulated good deeds; among things in the world, only water does not contend.

Water cannot destroy a family that has accumulated goodness, nor can fire destroy such a family. Thieves cannot take the wealth of those who accumulate goodness, and the authorities cannot confiscate their livelihood.

Four Things That Must Not Be Done

Do not scheme in your heart to take another person’s property; do not speak of another person’s faults. Do not secretly harm others, and do not leave debts unpaid when you die.

Four Forms of Equality

A sincere and impartial intention is true incense offering; fair weights and measures are true giving. A fair measure with a ruler is true observance of the fast and practice of goodness; a fair measure with a bushel is a true Jiao offering, a Daoist sacrificial rite.

Four Forms of Injustice

Do not write unjust petitions, or store ill-gotten wealth in your treasury. Do not speak unjustly in front of others, or harbor an unfair mind in the world.

Four Forms of Unrighteousness

Cultivating unrighteous conduct easily brings ruin; pursuing ill-gotten wealth easily leads to its loss. Raising unworthy descendants easily brings a family into poverty; employing unrighteous people easily invites betrayal.

Four Forms of Unreality

Without genuine understanding in the heart, one is easily misled. If one studies the Dao without diligence, one easily loses what one has gained. Without truly grasping principle, one easily goes astray. If spiritual powers are not genuinely attained, one easily encounters obstruction.

Four Essentials

A state need not be large, as long as its ruler and ministers are in harmony. A family need not be wealthy, as long as its descendants are worthy. One’s station need not be high, as long as one has enough food and clothing. Blessings need not be deliberately sought, as long as one’s heart is upright.

Four Inevitable Outcomes

Though a state be large, discord between ruler and ministers will inevitably bring decline. Though a family be wealthy, unworthy descendants will inevitably bring poverty. Though one’s station be high, excessive luxury in food and clothing will inevitably shorten one’s life. Even if one prays for blessings, a wicked heart will inevitably bring calamity.

Three Great Misfortunes

A scholar who does not study is a great misfortune for the world; monks and Daoist priests who lose their original nature are a great misfortune for their religious traditions.

A state without a worthy and capable chief minister is a great misfortune for the court and the country.

Four Conditions That Undermine Well-Being

When many monks and Daoist priests behave improperly, it harms their religious traditions. When Daoist teachings have no clearly established lineage or leading master, it harms all beings.

When power grows strong without anyone to correct or restrain it, it harms future generations. When taxes are collected and offerings demanded, but the proceeds are not put to proper use, it harms the world.

Fate and Lot (Two Poems)

Today we see people with crooked minds who are often showered with offerings when they are wealthy and honored. This is a cause planted in a past life; in this life they are simply receiving its result.

If what one does in this life is wrong, one will surely fall into misfortune in a future life. If you do not believe it, observe for a long time and you will see: the descendants grow poorer by the day.

Today we see kindhearted people who nevertheless suffer many troubles throughout their lives. This is a cause planted in a past life, whose effects they are now experiencing.

If in this life one makes a sincere effort to do good, one will certainly not lose the reward of goodness in the next life. If you do not believe it, observe for a long time and you will see: the descendants are able to hold official posts.

It Is Indeed So

Evil people remain evil after death; good people remain good after death. This principle is indeed true: one hears of it, and can see it with one’s own eyes.

Equality in Life and Death

The poor and lowly cannot escape death, and neither can the wealthy and honored. Though rich and poor are different, there are not two paths in life and death.

The Great Dao Is Equal

It was so in ancient times, and it is so today. The Great Dao is perfectly impartial; all depends on whether people can understand it.

I, at

Throughout the twelve double-hours, I had long understood this principle. Afterward, I endured many hardships: at times I was poor, and at times my work fell into decline and stagnation.

I labored and struggled for this for thirty years, yet had not one kindred spirit. Amid upheaval, I faced life and death several times, but never dared abandon it.

Only around the age of fifty did I finally reach level ground. Though I had known poverty and seen my work decline and stall, I pursued this Way for thirty years without a kindred spirit to help me. In troubled times I endured life-and-death ordeals several times, yet still dared not give it up. Only around the age of fifty did I finally arrive at a clear and open understanding.

I cultivate the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—and regard life and death as one. The troubles of the world cannot be escaped, so for a time I must rely on the codes of dress and ritual—the roles and conventions of ordinary society. I am ashamed of my limited wisdom, and hope that I may meet a Perfected One, a person of the highest cultivation.

The teachers and friends I associate with in daily life mostly devote themselves to different teachings. Each values what they are good at and believes their own position is right.

Some call others arrogant; some speak of matters others would rather keep hidden. If I cannot find someone who truly understands, I can only turn things over in my mind again and again.

There are no so-called sages in the world, nor any wondrous signs of spiritual efficacy. Genuine gold must be tested in fire to distinguish it from the false. Who under heaven truly understands this principle? At the thought of it, I cannot help but weep.

Since Form Began

From the time beings first took form and came to life until today, countless kinds of life have continually been born and continually died.

The people of the world and I originally share a single ancestral source. Among all the men and women under heaven, not one was not born of parents.

Uncles, aunts by marriage, brothers, wives and children: some become rulers, others subjects; some are friends, others old acquaintances.

Some follow the path of the immortals; some study Confucianism or Buddhism. Some are born in China, others in foreign lands. Some incur enmity, others become enemies; some are dull, others clever.

At the beginning of all things, we truly came from the same source. Later, the tributaries split apart and the source grew more distant, as branches spread from a tree and its root system gradually divided.

The sky is high and the earth vast; the sun and moon move on. The more time passes, the farther people stray from the source, gradually forgetting their original roots.

I understand that people in this fleeting world were originally like one family. Why, then, struggle against one another for fame and profit?

To turn one’s back on one’s own kin wounds the natural order between Heaven and Earth. Others and I came from the same source; only later did we divide, like branches and tributaries.

The sky is high and the earth vast; the sun and moon move on. The more time passes, the farther people stray from the source, gradually forgetting their original roots.

I understand that people in this fleeting world were originally like one family. Why, then, struggle against one another for fame and profit?

To turn one’s back on one’s own kin wounds the natural order between Heaven and Earth. The principles by which others and I live are no different from birth.

We all use our ears to hear sounds and our eyes to see things; we can all smell fragrances with our noses and discern flavors with our tongues.

Those who are lonely and poor, in dire circumstances, disabled, or of low status are, in truth, like me: lives carried forward through generation after generation.

Beating and humiliating, deceiving and bullying, shouting at and berating people, leaving them cold and hungry; taking their possessions, oppressing and disgracing them, stripping off their clothes, driving them away and forcing them to work—

Every one of these acts would hurt me as deeply as if it were done to me. How sorrowful! With such a heart, how could anyone bear to do these things?

Falsehood

Unable to be truthful oneself, one teaches others through false words and deeds. Others take up this delusion and pass it on in turn.

People go along with the current and draw ever more people into it. Falsehood and delusion then overwhelm the truth. When a crowd bays together at something false, a thousand monkeys can be made to look like a single rat.

Receiving Guests

Those who cultivate the Dao should uphold compassion and observe the precept against killing. Yet when friends and family come to one’s home, one offers them no hospitality at all.

Rice should be steamed slowly over a low flame until soft, and wild greens should be boiled until tender. I eat one vegetarian meal at midday, then settle down to rest for the night. I do this once a day and ask for nothing more.

This is a plain and simple way of living, with nothing to hinder it. Those who have seen things clearly and can let them go need not blame me or take offense.

Written at Liangyuan Temple, Moved by the Times

I was born in an age unlike the peaceful times of Yao and Shun. I have endured hardships and troubles more times than I can count. In five years, the political order shifted several times, and I was caught up in war on three occasions.

The people have suffered so much. Why has Heaven arranged things this way? Living among the common folk, I often reflect on the state of the world. After composing a poem, all I can do is scratch my head and ponder.

Inscribed at Liangyuan

The wind sweeps the pages of my books clean; moonlight shines upon them like a lamp. After the rain, moss covers the ground. The little spirits have lost their power, and the people have long since departed. Fallen blossoms and birdsong remain before my eyes, only deepening my sorrow.

Inscribed at Chongqing Hall

After the winter solstice, Yang energy gradually returns and grows by another measure. Spring has reached the second line of “Heaven’s Root,” the place where Yang energy begins to sprout in the study of the Yijing. The twelfth lunar month is nearly over; a warm, clear breeze opens the willow buds. Though the mountains are cold, the overnight rain has stopped, and the plum branches have emerged into clear skies.

The spirit of spring does not have to bring its gifts only to peach and plum trees; spring should also reach the homes of people living in the wilds. Soon it will be the time of “Three Yangs Bringing Prosperity,” when Yang energy grows stronger and good fortune begins. Who says my Way must remain tied up like a gourd, unable to find its use?

Three Poems on Late Spring

I have lived past fifty, with five more years besides. My temples are withered like autumn grass; alone before a solitary lamp, I listen to the night rain.

My eyes are dim, yet I can still make out the words. My heart is weary, and I no longer feel like composing poems. My homeland is far away. Who is there who truly understands me?

The third month of spring in Jiangnan is nearly over, and few blossoms remain by the trees. Spring slowly departs, galloping forward like a swift horse, while time turns with the sun and moon.

The world’s troubles cloud my eyes; little by little, I forget both my circumstances and my schemes. The past has all become dusty traces. Perhaps I should let time slip away like a white horse passing through a crack.

In this world, all manner of planning is no match for a life of ease and freedom. With nothing weighing on the heart, Heaven and Earth naturally seem vast.

Worldly toil has carried me, in the blink of an eye, to gray hair. Yet I delight in mountain springs, woodland rocks, and the lush green slopes. When will these days of turmoil finally end? Spring has only just departed, and autumn is already passing.

Three Poems on Laughing at the Busy Life

What pleasure is there in the world? Only leisure can preserve body and mind. If you cannot find a single day to be at ease, what kind of person of the world are you?

Chasing fame and profit entangles you in too many affairs. Better to cut off attachments and cares. Life and death are like a dream; wealth and rank are far less than leisure.

What pleasure is there in seeking wealth and rank? Only leisure can preserve body and mind. If you cannot find a single day to be at ease, what kind of person of the world are you?

Chasing fame and profit entangles you in too many affairs. Better to cut off attachments and cares. Life and death are like a dream; wealth and rank are far less than leisure.

Wealth and rank are easy to gain; true leisure is the hardest thing of all. I only fear that sorrow will bring still more white hairs. Who knows how to ease the heart and mind?

Two Poems on Keeping Apart from the World

The road is remote, and few travelers pass this way; the mountains rise high, their slopes thick with clouds. I mean to withdraw from worldly affairs, yet I know the Great Dao does not stand apart from the human heart.

A human life of a hundred years is brief; time rushes us onward like a flying arrow. People in the dusty world age easily, and the daylight hours are not worth straining to chase or keep company with.

Two Poems on Late Spring

Spring has gone and will not turn back. Red blossoms grow scarce, and the branches are already full of green leaves. If you spend your whole life enslaved by affairs, how will you ever have time to attain the Dao?

Though spring’s beauty passes swiftly, my resolve has never changed. When the petals have fallen and the wind grows still, the clouds and mist will disperse, and the moon will shine clear.

Two Poems on Reflections Stirred by Events

Fallen blossoms drift everywhere through the garden; the courtyard feels desolate, and its scene has changed. This is only the brief misfortune of flowers in decline—why specially blame the spring wind?

Heaven’s seasons seem weary of their work; even now, the bare branches have not blossomed. Perhaps you know only how to reach for branches and pluck flowers, while no one is willing to stay and cherish them.

Building a Thatched Hut at Lingyan

I roofed a small house with thatch, close to the mountain hall, and made a curtain of paper and a bed of bamboo. I did not choose a poor and simple life to escape fame; I simply feel that it is best to forget the toil of the dusty world and the entanglements of one’s lot in life.

Bamboo draws in the clear breeze like a green-feathered fan; pine trees lift the bright moon like a luminous pearl. At dusk, mist hangs like curtains and rosy clouds like drapes. Even a king could not match such a scene.

Reflections on the Past

Wildflowers were transplanted beside Green Willow Bridge, their branches blazing red like flames. Spring had faded from the old gardens, and when the autumn winds came, the plants withered and the scene grew even more desolate.

Sudden Rain

Dark clouds gathered like iron cavalry bearing down, and rain poured from the sky. The mountains and rivers stretching ten thousand li vanished behind the curtain of rain, dim as if drenched in ink. In an instant, a fierce wind scattered the clouds and rain. The mountains and rivers returned to their former state, just as they had appeared when I climbed them in days gone by.

〔Calamity and Suffering〕

In the winter of the jiawu year of the Zhiyuan era, in the tenth month, thunder and lightning raged together, and freezing rain fell for thirty days. The following year brought a great famine.

Rain fell for thirty straight days in the tenth month, and thunder rolled across the distant lands. White growths appeared on the rice ears, the vegetable roots rotted, and the hearts of the plants turned yellow.

The world no longer understands the principles of ancient times, and the seasons have strayed from their proper course. Grieved in my heart, I am laboring and striving over the affairs of the realm, and so I have written these lines to lament the times.

Diamond Clap

Those who understand musical measure must keep the beat precisely. If they chase sounds and follow them blindly, all will fall into disorder. The Great Being, the Bodhisattva, did not utter this verse in those days. Had he never spoken it, who would know whose home the bright moon would settle upon?

Robe of Many Threads

Countless threads are woven into a garment; put it on as you please, and it clings to the skin. Since you were originally without a thing, do not let yourself be entangled and bound by external objects. Remember what you were like at birth.

Hoe

A wooden handle and an iron head, shaped through repeated hammering. It does not care that weeds have overgrown the hall steps; it only swings a few times, wearing the palm smooth.

Four Poems on the Illusory Body

The body is a city where birth, aging, sickness, and death converge, and a den where worry, grief, and distress gather. To exhaust yourself for a thousand years over the business of living is futile; a human life of a hundred years is no more than a passing guest’s brief stay.

Brocade and fine clothes wrap a body that holds excrement; wine and meat nourish flesh filled with pus and blood. One craves wealth and lust, and clings to delusion and obsession. If you study the Dao and meditate without understanding this, you will still miss the point.

This illusory body is sustained by nothing more than a single breath. When the breath stops, death comes at once. Before long, the body decays and reeks beyond bearing. Then where are wealth and status, where is the spirit of a hero?

Ordinary people know only how to care for the body, but do not understand how to care for nature and life. The body is merely a temporary form and will eventually perish; nature and life are what cultivation seeks to preserve through the Way of long life and immortality.

I thank my ancestors and parents for enabling me to be born a man. Since I did not die in the calamities of war amid a troubled age, why wait to begin cultivating in the future?

Two Poems: Give Up Learning the Way

Having no desires is better than having something to desire; craving pleasure alone instead gives rise to sorrow.

After turning it over in my mind again and again, what should I do? Better to learn the Way now and let go of turmoil.

I exhaust myself devising plans, only to wear out my spirit in vain; greed and delusion persist, refusing to turn back.

Trouble piles upon trouble, and grows ever heavier. What should I do? Better to learn the Way now and let go of turmoil.

Two Poems: Breaking Through Delusion

Wind and thunder unleash a sudden downpour, and in an instant the heavens and earth grow dark. A moment later, the wind stills and the thunder fades; the sky returns to its former state.

Greed, attachment, and vexation have clouded people’s hearts since ancient times. Once vexation dissipates, the heart’s original clarity appears.

Hanshan and Shide, Sitting and Lying Together

The two lean against each other as they sit and rest their heads against each other as they sleep. Through sitting and lying down, they never depart from this.

What, exactly, is this? It is wholly beyond the constraints of words and distinctions. Set aside discussion for now, and listen as I reveal it to you.

In Praise of the Buddha

On the day the World-Honored One entered Nirvana, his golden body was placed in a silver coffin. In this way, he burdened later generations too, making them all chase after gold and silver.

Alas, from this day onward, do not display a countenance as noble as gold. Let the world see your original, humble appearance.

The Essential Practice

Even the light of the sun and moon can be obscured by passing clouds. The human heart occupies no more than a small space; how could it escape being clouded by dust?

Clouds hide the sun and moon; dust troubles the human heart. The wisest and the most foolish alike may pass through states of utmost clarity and utter darkness.

Clouds sometimes cover the sun and moon, yet cannot make them lose their light. Though the turmoil of the world may cloud the human heart, how could it harm its nature?

When the clouds disperse, the Milky Way shines once more; when dust clears, the mind becomes pure and lucid. How could night last forever? In the end, the sky will grow bright.

End of Volume Six of The Direct Pointing to the Ten Thousand Dharmas’ Return to the One in the Mysterious School.

“Observing with the ears” means that the ancients understood a person through careful attention, while people today form their judgments from what they hear. The original says, “This should be deleted,” meaning that the phrase ought to be removed. When people understand one another through the heart, their friendship is as firm as an oath among sworn brothers. A bond formed only through hearsay is like the fragrance of peach and plum blossoms, which fades once the flowers fall. Alas, how many of the relationships in the world are based on hearsay alone?

When I play the qin, what I value is not its sound; nor does my meaning lie among mountains and rivers. On a bright-moon night, when the wind is still and the scene lies before us, who can truly grasp its mystery?

At a chessboard, a monk leans against someone’s shoulder and sleeps. The players spend their energy and attention on the game, while the spectators fix their eyes on victory and defeat, gain and loss. How much better to sleep peacefully against a shoulder, letting every calculation within and without come to rest.

Spread the vast sky out as paper and turn Mount Taihua into a brush. Even if this could display the full brilliance of literary art, how could it compare with the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), still undivided and embracing all things?

Looking at colors and forms, one cannot help but marvel, pointing out their exquisite wonders and judging them beyond price. Yet a painted scene is only a speck within the Great Void, the boundless and formless universe. How could a human hand ever paint it all?

Sent to the Daoist official of Shitang Qiu: If the medicinal sprouts are not gathered and refined in time, they will easily wither. In the blink of an eye, old age arrives and the hair at the temples has turned white. Who is willing to cast off shackles as heavy as ten thousand taels of gold? In this world, a hundred years long and burning like a house on fire, escape is truly difficult. The lead furnace for alchemical refinement is already in ruins, and the Golden Essence has leaked away; frost has settled on the mercury cauldron, and the alchemical fire has gone cold. The finest years pass amid the rush of worldly affairs. Tell me, when will you be ready to speak of returning the Elixir—the Neidan practice of returning to the root and recovering the original state?

Two poems sent to Xu Linggu (one is included here): Every green mountain is a place to make one’s home. Monkeys, cranes, woodcutters, and fishermen all seem like old friends.

Whether sitting in meditation or walking, one can forget the weariness of worldly life. When hungry, eat; when thirsty, drink; and peacefully enjoy one’s natural state. Even in old age, one should keep one’s strength abundant and spirit vigorous. The subtle art lies in nourishing the inner heart, so that the “fire timing” of body and mind remains even and well balanced.

To seek the Great Dao through fasting is like trying to cook rice by steaming sand: in the end, it is unlikely to succeed. Above the Qu River, the sun rises, its radiance reaching straight to Kunlun and illuminating the “Valley Spirit” (the Daoist name for the quiet, empty, inexhaustible source). The fire energy returns from the Celestial Root to the Mercury Chamber; the water energy flows from the Moon Cave into the Lead Ford. These are symbolic expressions in Neidan (internal alchemy), describing the movement within the body of Qi through patterns such as Yin-Yang and water and fire. The Yang Qi of Qian reaches fullness, while the Yin Qi of Kun recedes; Qi shifts as the Dipper turns. When Yin reaches its utmost, Yang arises from within the body. Shen and Qi return to emptiness and stillness, ever silent and ever illuminating. Only then does one’s original self become apparent.

Qin

Bo Ya is gone, and it is hard to meet Zi Qi again. Alas, who among all the people of the world understands the meaning within the sound of the qin? Bo Ya and Zhong Ziqi are remembered as kindred spirits; here they express the rarity of someone who truly understands qin music.

Go

Victory and defeat cannot both prevail; to gain one thing is to lose another. How regrettable that this clear and pure heart is drawn into worldly affairs all day long.

Qin

Bo Ya is gone, and it is hard to meet Zi Qi again. Alas, who among all the people of the world understands the meaning within the sound of the qin?

Go

Victory and defeat cannot both prevail; to gain one thing is to lose another. How regrettable that this clear and pure heart spends all day rushing between blades and arrows.

Calligraphy

The strokes are refined and wondrous; whatever the heart conceives, the hand can write. Before the traces of insects and birds had been seen, where did these written characters come from?

Painting

Vine paper and white silk are pure as jade. With a skillful brush, old and new forms alike are brought to life. If the painting’s surface is originally pure and unadorned, why stain it with pigments?

Mirror

The mirror’s inner radiance lies hidden and unseen; only after it is scraped and polished does its brightness emerge. Facing the mirror, people turn their gaze this way and that, admiring their appearance. Yet when they turn away, few look back upon themselves.

Beauty and ugliness do not arise from any bias on the mirror’s part, yet dust can make people grow attached to the images they see in it. Alas, the forms in the mirror are changing and illusory. Who can understand the principle behind them?

Brush

When its tip was once sharp, the brush could compose prose and transmit works of every kind. Who would have thought that, once it grew blunt and clumsy, it would be cast aside and used no more? How sad that no one in the world can escape the heart’s tendency to love some things and reject others.

Ink

The ink soaks into “Master Secretariat” (another name for the writing brush), staining a thousand sheets of white paper black. It helps write texts all day, but who knows that its own form is gradually being consumed? Why does it use itself up? Only because body and mind alike have grown dark.

Three Poems on the Lingyan Garden

All around, silence; the mountains lie empty and still. Who would be willing to share words with me about such a scene? Only the moon, with no concern for worldly affairs, lowers its clear radiance late at night and shines into the garden.

The clear rush of flowing water sounds like a lute, while fallen yellow leaves carpet the ground like a layer of gold. How much abundance and pleasure there is in the quiet life of the mountain forest. The greatest sorrow is that no one understands this state of mind.

The mountain road is cold and far away, and letters grow fewer with time. Before the powerful and influential, their prestige is at its height, and people compete to curry favor with them. I have received the secret seal of the immortals, a Daoist esoteric seal transmitted within the tradition, yet no carriage or horse comes to visit my thatched hut.

On the Sufferings of Birth, Aging, Illness, and Death

At birth, bathing in a golden basin brings joy. Before long, the hair at the temples gradually turns white, until at last it is covered in frost and snow. When the body’s parts fall out of balance, there is illness; when we part from others forever and face an uncertain road ahead, there is death.

Human beings are endowed with feeling and awareness, and so can hardly escape birth, aging, illness, and death. Life cycles around like an ant, stirring sorrow. Apart from the one character that is true from the beginning, why should anything else not belong to impermanence?

The Suffering of Birth

To have a body is to have troubles; suffering begins here. Awareness gradually awakens, while desires and feelings accumulate into habit. In youth, our looks are fair, and we spend our days rushing after profit and reputation. Alas, this heart is so weary—how is it any different from a white colt darting past an opening in the wall?

The Suffering of Aging

Our appearance is no longer what it once was: the skin wrinkles, the complexion darkens; hair falls out, teeth loosen, eyesight blurs, and the spirit grows feeble. Like leaves falling under the frosts of late autumn, like sunlight slowly sinking in the west, we can only sigh that our years have reached their dusk. Alas, among all things, what does not come to such an end?

The Suffering of Illness

The body’s Four Great Elements—the earth, water, fire, and wind that make up the human frame—fall out of balance. Strength wanes, and the flow of Qi and blood becomes obstructed. Indulging in pleasure in our prime, we find grief and suffering waiting when old age brings hardship. Pain must be borne alone; when we groan, who can take our place? Even precious things of gold and jade, fine silks and brocades, leave us too troubled to look upon them.

The Suffering of Death

Once the Four Great Elements separate, every attachment must be relinquished. Wealth and status come to an end here; where are the heroes then? The wind roars among the white poplars, and the grassy fields lie desolate. If there is no day of return, we can only weep in vain over an eternal parting.

Four Poems on the Form and the Aggregates

When people cling to romantic love, give rise to anger, or fall into delusion and wild imaginings, their selfish desires cloud their minds and they commit acts such as sexual misconduct, killing, and theft. These are all signs that the mind and spirit have grown benighted. The things we encounter through the senses—forms, sounds, scents, and tastes—are all Yin, external things with physical form. To let spiritual awareness ascend, one must free oneself from these burdens.

Fame and profit, affection and desire, worries and thoughts, as well as joy and anger, speech, song, and laughter—all can stir the mind and spirit. The four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind, which constitute the material world, are not enduring, real substances. Skin, hair, bones, and flesh, too, belong to the Yin, to the body with physical form.

When Yin energy is heavy and desire binds deeply, one keeps sinking downward. When Yang energy is light and clear, and Jing is refined and gathered, one naturally rises upward. With the spirit and Qi settled, and the workings of Qi subtle, emptiness, stillness, and clarity can become fully transparent. It is as though one hears celestial music in the blue sky, while the mind and spirit go to pay homage in Jade Clarity, one of the heavens revered in Daoism.

To cultivate the mind and nature, set aside fame and profit, affection and desire, and distracting thoughts. Do not let joy and anger, speech, song, or laughter pull at the mind and spirit. Earth, water, fire, and wind are not enduring substances; skin, hair, bones, and flesh are also Yin things with physical form.

When Yin energy is heavy and desire runs deep, one sinks. When Yang energy is light and clear, and what is refined gathers together, one naturally rises. With the spirit and Qi settled, and the workings of Qi subtle, emptiness and clarity become luminous. It is like hearing celestial music in the blue sky, with the heart turned toward Jade Clarity.

Only by cultivating the mind, Qi, and spirit until they are pure Yang can one truly unite with the Great Dao. As long as even a trace of stagnant Yin remains within, one has yet to see one’s original nature—the inner state of original truth.

The Laughing Song

Laughing merrily, a hundred years pass in the blink of an eye. The words “impermanence” remind us that life cannot be held on to. Even if one gains astonishing wealth and status, what does it matter?

Laughing merrily, worldly hardship is everywhere. Youth turns to white hair in an instant; the years pass swiftly as a shuttle.

Laughing aloud, how many beings are there between heaven and earth? To toil all one’s life is truly exhausting. People work themselves to the point of weariness, yet often do not understand why.

Laughing aloud, who has not been led along by a life of hardship? I too spent half my life rushing after things; only now have I begun to let go of that pursuit.

Laughing merrily, I alone am awake now—do you know? Fame, profit, sights, and sounds are like candle flames in the wind; gold, jade, and worldly splendor are like ripples on water. None can last.

Laughing merrily, follow the true path of cultivation, and your effort will not be wasted. Buddha-nature and the Golden Elixir—the image in Daoist Neidan cultivation of Jing, Qi, and spirit refined and gathered—are not two different things. They are connected from the beginning; the subtle principles of the Dao are not so complicated.

Laughing aloud, the mysterious beyond mystery is wondrous beyond words. Trace things back to before heaven and earth were divided and the myriad things came into being. In that undifferentiated state, find the opening of the Mysterious Female, the subtle aperture that symbolizes the source from which all things arise.

Laughing aloud, the so-called “three phrases” and “three mysteries” are not what matters most. True Lead, True Mercury, and the true cauldron and furnace—symbolic names in Neidan for the Jing and Qi used in cultivation and their functions—and the “seed” … The subtle principles of the Dao, after all, are not so complicated.

Laughing aloud, the mysterious beyond mystery is wondrous beyond words. Trace things back to before heaven and earth were divided and the myriad things came into being. In that undifferentiated state, find the opening of the Mysterious Female.

A hearty laugh: The three essential formulas and the three layers of mystery are not what matter most. True Lead, true Mercury, and the true Cauldron and Furnace—metaphors in Neidan practice for Jing, Qi, Shen, and the foundations of their cultivation—are hardly ordinary medicinal substances of this world.

A hearty laugh: Simply tend and refine the inner elixir freely within the Golden Cauldron, a metaphor for the place within the body where the elixir is refined. To seek the seasons and the Zi and Wu hours—the traditional time markers also used in Neidan practice—is as futile as looking for horns on a rabbit or hair on a tortoise.

A hearty laugh: The elixir within you shines with a jade-like light. Gently nourish it with the true fire, a metaphor in Neidan practice for regulating the breath and refining the inner forces. After ten months, the elixir embryo matures, and nature and life grow steady of their own accord.

A hearty laugh: Pluck the stringless zither and play a tune that transcends life and death. Where the iron ox has plowed, jade fungi spring forth; the golden crow beneath the sea—the mythical three-legged crow in the sun—often returns to shine its light.

A hearty laugh: There is no need to give up food or endure hunger and cold. Let mountain-stream springs, the moon over the river, and the breeze among the pines keep you company as you sing and call out in freedom.

A hearty laugh: Clinging to outward forms and being bound by words can easily become obstacles. To understand the Nine Returns and Seven Reversals, a term in Neidan practice for the cyclical reversal and refinement of Jing, Qi, and Shen, is to reach a state understood by immortals and Buddhas alike.

A hearty laugh: Whether to cultivate as an immortal or as a Buddha depends on each person’s karmic affinities. Buddhists call it the “Mind-Ground Seal,” a teaching that truth is confirmed by the original mind; the Daoist tradition, for its part, provisionally calls it the “Yellow Woman,” a metaphor in Neidan practice for mediating and harmonizing Yin and Yang.

A hearty laugh: When the six senses—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are clear and pure, the mind’s pearl shines bright. When not a single thought arises, all phenomena are empty. If delusions are not cast off, misfortune will follow of its own accord.

A hearty laugh: Just keep your original nature clear at all times. The countless alchemical texts, in the end, all point to the same essential key. Grasp that key, and many teachings will become clear.

A hearty laugh: When the pure mind’s pearl shines bright, not a single thought arises and all phenomena are empty. If delusions are not cast off, misfortune will follow of its own accord.

A hearty laugh: Just keep your original nature clear at all times. The countless alchemical texts, in the end, all point to the same essential key. Grasp that key, and many teachings will become clear.

A hearty laugh: Keep the blade of wisdom within the body to cut down the two thieves of ignorance—the delusion that obscures true understanding—and foolishness. Then the nature-water of the Flower Pool, a Neidan term for the saliva in the mouth or a related place of practice, will be clear and still.

A hearty laugh: When faced with the world around you, remain unmoved and you can sing and call out freely. Do not seek heaven or the Pure Land outside yourself, and do not cling to hell or Yama, the King of the Underworld.

A hearty laugh: There is no need to wait for an imperial decree. Even a fortune in gold cannot buy the freedom of this body. Let others wear their great golden seals.

A hearty laugh: The Mysterious Pass, the inner pivot of body and mind in Neidan practice, is not far away—but who can truly open it? A luminous pearl is hidden in one’s clothes, yet people lose their way and wander outward, life after life, without result.

A hearty laugh: How can flowing water ever run backward? Pity those who spend every day toiling through their lives. If they cannot be called back, what can be done?

As laughter turns to tears, I point to the mountain and call it high—never knowing the water is higher still. I cannot help laughing at myself as I make this song; those who understand its meaning clap their hands and laugh aloud.

Encouraging People to Repay Their Parents for Ten Kinds of Kindness

For ten months, a mother carries her child, her body growing heavy and movement becoming difficult. Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, she is as careful as a dragon guarding a treasure. She prays in secret to the spirits, hoping to give birth to a boy or a girl. A parent’s kindness begins at this very moment.

As the time of birth draws near, the mother is filled with worry. Life and death hang in the balance, and her own life may not be spared. Childbirth brings pain as fierce as having the body torn open, a suffering beyond measure. The kindness of bearing a child is so profound that even giving one’s body to pieces could not repay it.

Once the child is born, hunger and thirst begin. For the first three years, the child grows by drinking the mother’s milk. The parents care for the child little by little, until the child grows and begins to understand human relationships and the ways of the world. Without milk to nourish the child, how could the child grow?

The child is held in the parents’ arms for three years before slowly leaving the swaddling cloth—the fabric wrapped around an infant. In their arms, the child is like a pearl resting in their hands. They watch over the child constantly, afraid of dangers from water or fire, or injury from blades and weapons. They cherish the child so deeply that they cannot bear to be apart even for a moment.

When the child soils themself, or falls ill and develops sores that ooze and fester, the parents wash and wipe the clothes with their own hands, never recoiling from the dirt or stench. They clean away filth and wash soiled garments; whether the child is cold or hot, they tend to them with care, as if serving a deity.

The child sleeps on a mat and sometimes soils the bedding. The parents move the child to a dry place and sleep themselves in the damp. They worry only that the child might catch cold, paying no heed to their own discomfort. How can words express such devoted care?

The parents spit out sweet food for the child, while eating bitter things themselves. They want only for the child to eat their fill, without concern that they may go hungry. When they find something delicious, they save it for their hungry child. When the child eats with relish, the parents are happy.

The parents tend to the child’s appearance, cutting their hair, washing and combing them, and dressing them in fine clothes. As they watch the child grow and their features become brighter, their affection deepens with every passing day.

Parents raise their children, caring for and protecting them, and continually teaching them, never forgetting them. If they hope their children will grow up to adulthood, they must teach them the principles of how to live as a good person. When the children reach adulthood and gradually learn how to make a living, their parents feel a quiet joy in their hearts.

A parent’s love for a child has no end. They consult divination to choose a home for their children, acquire fields and property, and do their utmost to build up the family estate. Even after their death, they still think of their descendants. No matter how completely one might give oneself, it would not repay the profound kindness of one’s parents.

According to biographical accounts, long ago the True Lord of the Northern Dipper, a deity of the Northern Dipper constellation, descended upon the Lan family in Qufu County, Gunzhou. He called himself the “King of Filial Piety and Fraternal Duty” and said to Lord Lan: “The Primordial Qi, the original energy at the birth of the cosmos, is the Great Dao. In the sun, it manifests as the Bright King of Filial Piety. The Original Qi, the foundational energy, is the Supreme Dao. In the moon, it manifests as the Immortal King of Filial Piety. The Mysterious Qi, the profound and subtle energy, is filial piety. In the Northern Dipper, it manifests as the King of Filial Piety and Fraternal Duty. When filial piety reaches up to Heaven, the sun and moon shine brightly; when it extends across the earth, all things flourish; when it is practiced among the people, the kingly way is fulfilled.

“Below the Upper Clarity realm, one of the Daoist heavens, I have taken on a form and come into the human world to make filial piety known. In the Later Jin, a man named Xu Xian will appear in the world, inherit my teachings on filial piety and fraternal duty, and become the foremost of the immortals.” Later, Xu Xian did indeed spread filial piety and transform the world through his teaching. It is said that he lived to the age of 136, and that all 42 members of his household ascended to immortality in broad daylight. To this day, clear and verifiable accounts of these events remain at Xishan in Longxing.

Filial piety is the foundation of all conduct and the source of many virtues. Whether one seeks to become an immortal or a Buddha, or to become a sage or worthy, none can do so apart from filial piety. If Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, all honor filial piety, how much more should human beings? Parents labor tirelessly to raise their children, giving them kindness that is profound and without end. This kindness is plain to see.

Filial piety is the root of all forms of virtue and the source of many other good qualities. Whether one seeks to become an immortal, attain Buddhahood, or become a sage, none can do so without filial piety. Even the sun, moon, and stars in the heavens diligently uphold it—how much more should human beings? Parents toil to raise their children, and their kindness is deep and boundless. The kindness people speak of is not limited to ten kinds; the ten listed here are great kindnesses widely recognized by the world. These are now briefly illustrated and explained, to encourage people everywhere to practice filial piety and fraternal respect: loving one’s elder brothers and honoring one’s elders. If a person does not honor their parents or love their elder brothers, then even devout service to Buddhism and the Dao, or diligent fasting and worship, cannot match the merit of honoring one’s parents, nor benefit the cultivation of the Dao. These are all teachings handed down from antiquity. May everyone respectfully observe them and never take them lightly. Carefully written by Daochao of Jiangyuelin.

Ten Good Deeds for Humans and Deities (ten good deeds that enable one to be reborn in the human or heavenly realms)

Three Good Deeds of the Body (three good deeds concerning the body)

First, do not take life. Cherishing life and abhorrring killing are the original intention of Heaven and Earth. If a person can refrain from killing, their blessings and virtue will grow ever deeper. In this life, they may hope for longevity; after death, they will bear no guilt for killing. For a household that accumulates goodness, refraining from killing is of foremost importance.

Second, do not steal. Taking another person’s property without permission counts as theft. If a person can refrain from stealing, they can avoid calamity: while alive, they will escape punishment by the authorities; after death, they will not fall into hell. Among the vicious and unruly people of the world, none are more despised than thieves.

Third, do not engage in sexual misconduct. Sentient beings cycle through the four modes of birth—womb-born, egg-born, moisture-born, and transformation-born—and sexual desire is the root that sets this cycle in motion. If a person can refrain from sexual misconduct, they can extend their lifespan. Sexual misconduct harms the spirit, defiles virtue, and depletes Jing (essence). It is a grave prohibition that anyone wishing to preserve life should especially observe.

Three Good Deeds of the Mind (three good deeds concerning one’s thoughts)

First, do not be greedy. The troubles of the world arise from the entanglements of craving and attachment. If a person is not greedy, their troubles will naturally fade. The sea of desire is unfathomably deep, and the river of passion has no end. Unless one seeks to escape, one will eventually sink into it.

Second, do not be angry. The fire of anger burns fiercely and is hard to extinguish. If a person can rid themselves of anger, they should make patience their highest priority. Lawsuits and brawls harm oneself and bring shame upon one’s family; they can even lead to the ruin of a household and its livelihood. Such things often arise from anger.

Third, do not be deluded. Those who are deluded lack wisdom, like people walking in the dark. If they do not know how to turn inward and reflect on themselves, they will eventually fall into a deep pit.

Craving alcohol, sex, and possessions, competing for superiority, and indulging in greed, ignorance, and deceit lead to unrestrained obsession. All these behaviors arise from anger and hatred.

The phrase “three prohibitions” means that one must not be like a foolish person, lacking wisdom and groping through the dark. Without learning to reflect on and observe one’s own thoughts, one is bound to fall into the deep pit of ruin.

Craving alcohol, sex, and possessions, competing for superiority, and indulging in greed, ignorance, and deceit lead to unrestrained obsession, leaving one no different from an animal.

Four Good Practices of Speech

First, do not speak falsely. Careless and untruthful speech can leave people confused and unsettled, and may even bring about calamity and war. If a person does not speak falsehoods, even ghosts and spirits will trust and follow them. The sages of the Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist traditions all teach that one must not speak falsely.

Second, do not use flowery speech. Flowery speech uses ornate words to disguise mistakes and gloss over faults. It hides one’s flaws while resentment and trouble accumulate in the heart. Speak without embellishment and keep a loyal, honest heart: this is how one builds deep De and receives unseen blessings from generation to generation.

Third, do not sow discord. This means spreading rumors and driving people apart, causing rulers and ministers to distrust one another and close relatives to grow distant. It brings misfortune and enmity, and can even ruin families and bring down states. Those who behave one way to someone’s face and another behind their back may suffer punishment while alive and fall into the mudri—hell—after death.

Fourth, do not speak abusively. Abusive speech consists of filthy, vicious words that spread like foul odors and poison. Whether directed at someone above or below oneself, insults deeply wound the heart.

These four forms of harmful speech are gateways through which disputes and wrongdoing arise. If people can refrain from them, De will endure.

When none of these ten things is violated, they are called the “Ten Good Deeds”; when they are violated, their opposite is the “Ten Evils.” Whether one becomes a Buddha, a patriarch, an immortal, or simply an upright person, the outcome depends on the good deeds one has done. The text concludes by emphasizing once more that deeds are gateways to disputes and calamity; if people can refrain from evil actions, De will endure.

If all ten of the foregoing are observed without violation, they are called the Ten Virtues; if violated, they become the Ten Evils. Whether one becomes a Buddha or patriarch, an immortal, or simply a human being, all such outcomes arise from good karma.

The scripture states that the palace of Great Brahma, the Jade Emperor, and the precepts taught in Buddhism are all aspects of the Dao above the heavens. Those who practice the Ten Virtues will make their roots of goodness ever firmer and their merit and blessings ever deeper. Their families will flourish, and their descendants will rise to prominence. In this life, they may escape calamities such as punishment under the law, war, plague, disasters of fire and flood, and famine. After death, their spiritual consciousness will ascend through the Three Realms and attain the Six Supernatural Powers. They may also be reborn as human beings—as princes, members of great clans, nobles, or high officials—enjoying heavenly blessings and endless happiness.

Those who commit the Ten Evils will continually accumulate sinful karma, bringing ever more calamities and obstacles. Their families will decline and their descendants dwindle. In this life, they are unlikely to escape calamities such as punishment, war, plague, disasters of fire and flood, and famine. After death, they will fall into the Three Evil Destinies—hell, the hungry ghosts, and the animals—and their souls will sink into the Nine Earths, suffering for a long time before falling into the burning infernal prison of hell. They may also be reborn as animals and slaughtered, or as human beings who are poor and alone, disabled, blind, or deaf, with impaired senses and bodies, and disliked by others.

The causes and effects of every kind of good and evil karma are recorded in detail in Buddhist scriptures and Daoist texts. These teachings are set out and explained here to encourage people everywhere to practice the Ten Virtues together. Respectfully written by Dao Chao of Jiangyuelin.

This completes Scroll Seven of The Direct Guidance of the Mysterious Tradition: The Myriad Dharmas Return to the Same Source.