《诸真内丹集要》

Under the clear Qi (vital energy) of the beginning, the two powers of the sun and the moon rise together from either side and unite as one. It comes forth from the Jade Pool (Yuchi) and enters the Golden Chamber (Jinshi); in size it is like a pellet, in color like a tangerine, and the flavor within is sweet as honey. If a śramaṇa (a Buddhist monastic) obtains it, it may be cultivated through meditative concentration; if one in yellow robes (a Daoist) obtains it, one may transcend the dusty world. Should you obtain it, you must preserve it with great care; once it is lost and you wish to recover it, the body will likely fall into decline.

It ascends through deep and secluded passes, winding three times, and then enters the Gate of Life (Mingmen, the place in the body bound up with the root of life), so that the bodily form does not decay. To inquire into it in depth is truly hard to put into words. The sun and the moon are originally the essence of Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang), and the myriad phenomena of the world are all made manifest through them.

The Jing (scripture/classic), with such formulations as “three fives before and three fives after” and “five times six is thirty,” describes the coordination and circulation of Yin-Yang, of temporal order, and of number: birth and extinction complete their circuit twelve times, and the twelve are further divided into twenty-four; the twenty-four solar terms advance without cease, and the transformations of the hexagram images and of the numbers of the lines are all contained therein. The substance mercury is divided into two parts and matched with Yin and Yang, forming the two hexagrams Jiji and Weiji (After Completion and Before Completion, symbolizing the union of water and fire and transformation not yet completed); then, turning from Jiji and Weiji to the mutual union of Yin and Yang, like the matching of husband and wife, one comes to know that within the pot (the heaven and earth of body and mind spoken of in Neidan, internal alchemy) there is a heaven and earth of its own.

Red lead and black tin are the essential secret of refining the Great Elixir (Dadan). Only the turn from red to black is true cultivation; taking Jing (essence) from within the black and taking marrow from within the red, one who knows how to draw upon both the crimson and the black can obtain a medicine of peerless worth. To enter the black by means of the crimson can secure long life; to enter the crimson by means of the black can bring about the celestial immortal (Tianxian). When the two are employed in reverse, both can in the end return to the Reverted Elixir (Huandan); when the fire dragon transforms, the celestial immortal may be achieved. One who studies the Dao (the Way) ought to examine himself: do not transmit these methods of cultivation to a person greedy for wealth and fond of sensual desire. At the head of Hangu Pass and at the mouth of Liang Mountain I carved these words, to leave them for those who come after.

Perfected Zhongli Zhengyang (Zhenren), Song of the Reverted Elixir

One mother gives birth to two children: one boy and one girl. The boy is the root of Yin; the girl is the sovereign of Yang. When Yin Qi arrives, Yang Qi settles and abides, and neither departs from its own root. The spleen and stomach grind the food, and the food is digested of itself; in this way one can return to what is deep, substantial, and firmly stable.

A mother gives birth to two children, a boy and a girl. The boy is the root of Yin, and the two girls are the sovereigns of Yang (Yin-Yang). When Yin Qi (vital energy) arrives, Yang Qi comes to rest; so long as the original root is not lost, the spleen and stomach can transport and transform food and drink, so that food digests of itself and at last returns to the thick Earth. Those who study the Dao (the Way) are as numerous as hemp, yet from ancient times to the present few have truly penetrated it. They see the dragon but do not recognize the dragon, and they meet the tiger but do not recognize the tiger. The dragon is not in the dark recesses of the east, nor is the tiger in the distant lands of the west. Seek them from one and the same source, and one can know clearly where they lie hidden; search only toward east and west, and even with eyes one is no different from a blind person.

Yang rests in the womb of Yin, and Yin rests within the belly of Yang. The male appears white, the female turns red, and of themselves they become husband and wife. Plant hemp and you harvest hemp; plant millet and you harvest millet. If one cannot even recognize lead, then even when the hair has turned white one only toils in vain. In cultivation those two medicines are vague and elusive, hard to grasp; dark, obscure, and profound, the three kinds of kindred nature seem intimate with one another. When feeling and intention join, the many medicines come together; when the breaths unite, no words are needed. Firing and refining lead and mercury—a term of Neidan (internal alchemy), referring to symbols used in cultivation as metaphors for the medicines of Yin and Yang—so that they dry and congeal of themselves is also like a cat crouching in wait for a mouse.

Perfected Zhang Ziyang, “Song of the Stone Bridge”

My home originally stood north of the stone bridge, where mountains locked the land in a ring, waters wound back upon themselves, and ancient trees stood thick and still. The stream beneath the bridge leads straight to Kunlun; when a person drinks the spring water, a fragrance remains in the mouth. That I dwell in the mountains is truly worthy of praise: even a narrow place is planted full of flowers that do not fade through the four seasons. In a cave on the north side of the mountain a fierce tiger lies hidden. And so I walked out from the stone bridge and began to sing.

My own lineage originally lived north of the stone bridge, where the mountains stood like a lock and the waters ran like a guarded pass, with ancient trees growing all around. The stream beneath the bridge led toward Kunlun—here, the immortal realm of Daoist poetry—and when a person drank of the spring, fragrance filled the mouth.

I live in the mountains, and the scenery is truly worth praising: the narrow places are planted full of flowers that never wither through the four seasons. In a cave on the north side of the mountain a fierce tiger lies hidden; when it comes out and roars, it seems to stir the clouds and rosy mists. At the bottom of a pool on the south side a flood-dragon is concealed; mounting the clouds and sending down rain, it casts the whole sky into gloom. At times the tiger and the dragon fight, and the symbolic “Mysterious Pearl,” a common image in Neidan (internal alchemy), now vanishes and now appears. This is the sign of an auspicious omen.

So beautiful is the scene that I secretly rejoice in my heart. I pour wine for myself and drink, growing gradually drunk. In that drunkenness I play a tune on a stringless qin (zither), and phrase by phrase the music seems to teach one to listen with care. The intoxication lies deep, and no one knows of it; dazed and muddled, silent and without words, I seem as if I had grown foolish. I look up at the wonder of Heaven and Earth’s creative fashioning: the sun travels toward the west, and the moon rises in the east. Heaven and Earth seem turned about; Yin-Yang moves back and forth and naturally unites. If one can grasp the key to the inverted circulation and transformation of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), one may hope to attain the Dao (the Way), ascend as an immortal, and return to the Cavern-Heavens, the dwellings of the immortals.

Golden houses and white jade elephants, with Golden Lads and Jade Maidens standing in attendance before them; the Southern Asterism and the Northern Dipper ranged in clear order, and the boundless myriad phenomena all appearing—all of this, with no distinction of day or night, must be maintained in soft, unbroken continuity. The firing times within the turning of the celestial circuit—in Neidan cultivation, the regulation of the breath and of the moments when it is set in motion—must also be mastered in their rhythm of gathering and dispersal. If you wish to know where the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the fruit sought in Neidan cultivation, is truly brought to completion, go seek out a teacher and ask him to lay bare the secret of “lead within water.”

Water can give rise to fire, and fire can also give rise to water; in the use of water and fire, what comes first and what comes after must be clearly distinguished. One must discern ascent and descent and recognize host and guest, so that lead, silver, cinnabar, and mercury—Neidan terms often borrowed to indicate different factors in cultivation—can meet and join. In cultivation there is both the firm and the yielding; do not give the mind free rein. Know contentment, and constantly keep to your proper place. Then it is as if the ministers of court together celebrate an age of great peace, the state prosperous and the people at ease.

This song is worth careful study, and those who share the Way should be able to understand its meaning. What later students of cultivation learn is visualization and the circulation of Qi (vital energy): visualization, that is, concentrated inner contemplation; and the circulation of Qi, that is, regulating and moving the Qi of the breath. These lie right before one’s eyes. They are quite easy, and they can be practiced in ordinary daily life. Even if those who went before have cultivated for fifty years, they ought still to ask themselves what they had really learned in all that time. This way of practice has a savor of its own; for one who truly comprehends it, its subtlety is beyond compare. First it can dispel illness, then lengthen one’s years, and then, by cooking and refining with “fire,” transform body and mind.

Those who study the Dao should examine themselves, and not be bound by the petty methods of side schools. Some people know only how to frighten others with minor arts, yet never notice that they themselves are growing haggard in secret. I urge those who come later in search of learning to hold a firm resolve, and not lightly abandon their household livelihood to drift about at will. The wondrous Dao does not leave one’s own person; why must one cross a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers? Do not delay, and do not indulge greed and desire. Hasten to find a teacher and obtain the mysterious essential instructions. If one does not study cultivation while alive, one may not be reborn as a human being in the life to come. Since you have set your mind on cultivation and study, you must persevere from beginning to end. The great matter of a human life comes down, in the end, to birth and death. If Heaven should fail the heart’s wish of one who cultivates the Dao, then let me sink into the Three Paths—a term of Buddhist and Daoist usage for the evil destinies, the realms of suffering—and become a ghost of the lowest order.

Ma Ziran, Jinshi Zhige (The Paper Pavilion of Metal and Stone)

East of the great sea the red sun rises; green mountains, ground and milled again and again, will in the end turn to dust. [The wording from “If one does not study the cultivation of life” onward appears to be missing, and the original meaning is difficult to determine.]

Ma Ziran, Jinshi Zhige (The Paper Pavilion of Metal and Stone)

East of the great sea the red sun rises; green mountains, ground and milled again and again, will in the end turn to dust. A hundred years come to about thirty-six thousand days, and on each of those days many people pass through birth and death. The numinous elixir of nine transmutations—the spiritual medicine spoken of in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy)—is not refined from the five metals; without a teacher’s personal instruction, it is likely very hard to find. If one wishes to know the true immortal’s secret of mother and child coming together, one must first cultivate mind and nature before refining the medicine. Why burn and refine an elixir in pursuit of a face that never ages? True cultivation lies neither in the bustle of court and marketplace nor only in the quiet of the mountains. People of today who seek the medicine of long life need only face outer conditions while the mind is not drawn along by them; that is the “Great Return” (what Neidan practice calls returning to the source and recovering the true).

One should hasten to tend the Dantian (energy center) and nourish Shen (spirit), and also accumulate De (Virtue/Power), do good, and help the people. If this body does not attain deliverance in the present life, which lifetime is one still to wait for? To seek long life, one must subdue the inner mind and not cling to past or future. One need only, in stillness and settled concentration, unite Shen with Qi (vital energy)—why then worry that one cannot reach the realm of the immortals in this very life?

Chunyang (Pure Yang), the Perfected Lü, Xuanpin Ge (Song of the Mysterious Female)

The “Gate of the Mysterious Female” (Xuanpin zhi men), a term in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) that figuratively denotes the root of life and the place where Yin and Yang meet, is called the “Golden Mother” (Jinmu). It exists prior to Heaven and Earth and harbors within it the true foundation. From it the myriad things are generated, containing primordial Qi (vital energy) and embracing and guarding the original One; this breath continues without interruption, running through past and present. “Divine Water of the Flower Pool” (Huachi shenshui), the Neidan designation for the Jing (essence), Qi, and fluids within the body, is the root of Heaven and Earth. Refine and nurture it and then ingest it, and life can be made to last. From ancient times, immortal cultivation has had no other method; all of it takes the Mysterious Female as its foundation.

The Gate of the Mysterious Female, however, is known to very few. Thinking only of visualizing the kidneys and holding fast to the heart’s Shen (spirit) is, more often than not, effort spent in vain. The immortals long ago saw through every side path, yet the foolish and deluded still cling to them and will not release their grip. If one asks what the Mysterious Female is, it is like the two kidneys an infant already possesses at birth. Between the two kidneys lies a single point of numinous, luminous Qi: follow its course, and one becomes an ordinary person; reverse it, and it may serve as the root for refining the elixir. The moment Yang Qi has just begun to sprout, one must set to work without delay. One must draw the white out of darkness and seek what is solid and real within emptiness. As the verse has it, the elixir may be refined within a single double-hour, while a bitter vigil of nine years, or of three, is toil in vain. Should people of the world recognize the true Mysterious Female, they will know that it resides neither in the heart nor in the kidneys. One ought to press the inquiry all the way to the beginning, when a human being first receives life, and to the source of the primordial Qi that is bestowed. Let this not seem strange: here the heavenly secret would appear to have been told in its entirety.

There is, further, the Song of the Great Elixir (Dadan ge) by the Perfected Chunyang (Chunyang zhenren):

The palaces of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) show themselves and fade again upon the summit of Mount Kunlun, while the radiance of sun and moon floats reflected above banks of purple cloud and mist. The pool is deep and broad, churning with a liquid like jade; terraces and towers rise story upon story, setting a numinous spring in motion. The Green Dragon rides upon fire and is transformed into the lead within water; the White Tiger surges like waves and turns mercury into lead. If one would have the man of the Kan trigram find a mate to match him, one must call upon the woman of the Li trigram to form the bond. The Yellow Dame (Huangpo), the mediating agent in Neidan by which Yin and Yang are harmonized, exhausts every stratagem, and at last a single lotus blossoms from the golden cauldron. A fierce maiden lifts the crow and keeps watch on the left; a general, the jade rabbit upon his head, stands guard in the west. The black turtle crouches beneath the red furnace, and the vermilion bird returns before the splendid pavilion. Thereafter one stills the mind and concentrates the spirit, watching the scenes that appear within. When the work of three cycles has been brought to completion, one may mount the clouds and ascend.

There is also the Song of Nature and Life (Xingming ge).

Cultivating the Golden Elixir (Jindan) without penetrating one's original nature is the foremost malady in practice. To cultivate only true nature and not the Golden Elixir is to find it hard, even after myriad kalpas, to transcend the ordinary and enter sagehood. To have grasped the foundation of nature and life yet lost the original nature of the source is like looking into a mirror when there is no mirror—one cannot make out one's own features.

To become a great person whose lifespan equals that of heaven and earth, one must take mastery of the transformations of Yin-Yang as the root of cultivation. When both nature and life are cultivated, the realm attained is mysterious and ever more mysterious; even when facing billows as turbulent as the ocean depths, there is a dharma-boat by which one may cross. Only by seizing the head of the flood dragon (jiaolong) with one's own hands does one know that the alchemist's skill is truly not unfounded.

Here, “dual cultivation of nature and life” (xingming shuangxiu) means jointly cultivating a person's spiritual nature and the foundation of life; the “Golden Elixir,” “Yin-Yang,” the “flood dragon,” and the like are all terms and symbols in the practice of Neidan (internal alchemy).

The Dao (the Way) originally has no concrete form, while the elixir arises of itself from nature. Once the methods of the elixir become manifest, people believe they have found a precious treasure, and so they ingest the elixir, hoping thereby to attain the Dao and become immortals. In the furnace two medicinal substances are gathered and controlled, and these are called “dragon and tiger”; in the realm of internal refinement the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are brought under a single order, forming another heaven and earth.

The ancients roamed in the realm of emptiness, stillness, and purity, holding to the arts of Zhengyi (Orthodox Unity). They hoped that their lifespan would endure as long as heaven and earth, and that their bodies would be as firm as metal and stone, and so they extracted and refined the nature of mercury and smelted the substance of lead. They forged these with fierce fire, advancing and withdrawing the fire in due measure: when the fire is advanced, the medicine fills and swells; when the fire is withdrawn, it draws inward and contracts. The medicine is stored in the “Central Palace” (the central site spoken of in internal refinement), gathered and refined according to the proper time, and put to use at the appointed moment.

The quintessence of the Qi (vital energy) of Geng and Xin in the west unites with the refined essence of the Qi of Jia and Yi in the east, gestating a pure essence that blossoms and bears fruit. Observed in their forms, they join one another yet each remains distinct; inquired into in their subtlety, they are found to take shape by coagulation. The woman’s Qi symbolized by the Li trigram is matched with the man’s Qi symbolized by the Kan trigram, and the pairing ultimately points toward deathlessness. The crow in the sun and the hare in the moon (which the ancients used to symbolize the sun and the moon) circulate back and forth, enabling a person to attain long life.

The Bagua (Eight Trigrams) are arrayed all around, and the Nine Palaces are arranged among them. The seasonal nodes of the three hundred and sixty days shift without cease, and the twenty-eight lunar mansions (the stellar regions into which the ancients divided the sky) each follow their own paths. Mercury subdues lead, and lead in turn subdues mercury; the root of creation and transformation can hardly be exhausted. Yin is born within Yang, and Yang is born again within Yin—who can fully explain the pattern by which Yin-Yang shift and transform?

Within what is profound, dark, and far-reaching lies Taiqing (the realm of clarity and stillness spoken of in Daoism). Form and substance emerge from what was originally without form or substance, and names are only tentatively given to what originally had no name. Those who grasp the crux of this can wield the creative power of heaven and earth; those who realize its principle will cherish the true primordial Jing (essence) and Qi of their own persons.

Refined through nine reversions of the reverted elixir, one can pass beyond the ordinary and enter the realm of the sage; ingesting a single grain of the elixir is said to restore youth to the aged. Alas that people of the world hurry through their days, rushing from morning to night: every household lightly casts away its own “White Snow” (a term for Jing and Qi in Daoist Neidan, or internal alchemy), and everyone discards the “Yellow Sprout” (a symbol of the medicinal substance in Neidan). Time slips away and cannot be held back; youth changes and is hard to recover. Recalling the awakening from the dream of Nanke, one knows that wealth and rank are not to be relied upon; thinking of the high graves of Beimang (a famous ancient burial ground), one knows that merit and fame are in the end in vain.

Some refine cinnabar into purple powder and smelt black tin to obtain mysterious frost; some feed on clouds and rosy mists and ingest medicinal preparations; some abstain from grain and cut off food. They all call these the supreme medicine, yet they are not in fact the orthodox method transmitted by the ancients. This is like climbing a tree to catch fish: the higher one climbs, the harder the fish are to obtain; or like boring into ice to get fire: the thicker the ice, the harder fire is to appear.

They do not know that the body is the dwelling of Qi, and that Qi is the mansion of Shen (spirit). When true Qi is used to continue true Qi, Shen does not scatter; when true Jing is used to nourish true Jing, the physical form has something on which to rely. In this way one can naturally cause flesh and blood to grow upon white bones and a withered body to regain vitality. It is said that one may then follow Chisongzi (a legendary immortal) and continue the lifespan of Pengzu (a legendary person of great longevity).

Tianlaizi was originally a man of leisure. In his youth he read Confucian books and esteemed office-holding and the keeping of integrity. Had there not been, from a former life, an affinity for cultivating immortality, how could he have received wondrous instructions from a true master? The master passed on those instructions in few words and, at parting, placed the Song of the Gourd (Huzhong Ge) in my hands. What the song speaks of is not the talk of ordinary people, but the method of cultivating oneself into an immortal and attaining deathless longevity.

The elixir medicine has only one ingredient: it is without root and without beginning; it is pre-heaven Qi (vital energy). Among the alchemical books that set forth these profound principles are the Wuzhen Pian and the Cantong Qi. The Cantong Qi treats the method of becoming an immortal; its author was the Perfected Wei Boyang of the Later Han. Drawing on the Classic of Changes to frame his argument, he clarified the “Great Medicine” (the key substance indicated in Neidan, internal alchemy) and left a model among the elixir scriptures of all ages. The essence of sun and moon and the marrow of heaven and earth are all contained in the mysterious principles of the Golden Elixir (jindan). The writing is spare and the reasoning deep; without a genuine transmission from a master, it is hard to fathom.

The Wuzhen Pian sets out plainly the secret of deathless longevity and of cultivating oneself into a celestial immortal. Patriarch Ziyang (Zhang Boduan), pitying later practitioners, went further and disclosed the hidden workings of heaven. The person has already grown old, yet the crow still cries in the sky; its cry crosses Mount Beiyu and carries still farther west. What is most poignant in the lyric to the tune Qinyuan Chun is its urging that one begin cultivation at once—yet even so it comes too late. At this point the original text contains repeated wording.

If one wishes to cultivate and seek the great Dao (the Way), one must not take the “Three Peaks” as a method of the Way, lest one incur karmic retribution. The three thousand six hundred methods of practice are all side paths; apart from the way of the Golden Elixir, the rest are empty fabrications. Proclaim the great Dao, spread the mysterious methods of the Way, and revive the lineage style of a generation in the southwest. If one asks the immortal elder’s true school, he called himself “Ziyang Zhu.” Formerly the immortal elder suffered demotion and by chance, in the remote woods of Yaolin, met the person who transmitted the secret; later the transmission reached Piling and was passed on to Niwan, and from this the fame of Patriarch Yuchan was also established. In the original, the personal names, place names, and lines of transmission in this passage are rather obscure.

Alas, the dusty world is like flowers in a mirror; how many spans of a hundred years can a human life contain? To recover one’s original true face, one must not seek the root among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The root must be sought early; do not wait until one’s own “lead and mercury” (a Neidan term symbolizing the essential Qi of Yin-Yang) have dwindled. Year after year, Jing (essence) and Qi grow ever thinner; waters flow and flowers fall, and the person gradually grows old.

To cultivate, why cling to keeping precepts and reading scriptures (jing)? So long as one does not pick and choose or discriminate, casts off aversion and craving, and treats others with an equal mind, the path opens of itself. Cultivation calls for a willingness to endure humiliation; even if someone spits in one’s face, one lets it dry of itself and does not retaliate. If I wrong another, misfortune naturally falls upon me; if another wrongs me, I can instead turn it into a blessing.

To seek the great Dao, one must have a firm, vigorous, and tenacious resolve. When hardship and anxiety come, one must not waver. Wealth and honor, poverty and low station, seem as if long since fixed; gain and loss alike are to be followed as they come. Cultivation must have its regular practice; to study the Dao one first learns seated meditation. If one merely sits in barren stillness without understanding the essentials of cultivation, it is no more than drawing a cake to relieve hunger—in the end, labor in vain.

To cultivate the great Dao one must set up an elixir chamber: the room should be bright, and the site well chosen. If the place is unsuitable, mind and Shen (spirit) can hardly settle; even if the true seed is present, it will be harmed. Refining the elixir requires companions of the Way—three persons of like aspiration who support one another. Without such companions, mixing only with ordinary people, the Great Medicine is hard to bring to completion, and the gold and mercury will also scatter and be lost.

To study the great Dao one must have a true confidant. The “elixir head” of the refining must make use of “gold within water” (a Neidan term for the crucial essential Qi that cultivation requires). If one does not accumulate good deeds and practice goodness in secret, one may travel to the ends of the earth and still not find it. Cultivation must wait until the time is ripe; after meeting a master and receiving the transmission, one must not act rashly. The secret instructions must be kept deeply hidden and not boasted of to others, lest one invite calamity and demonic obstruction and hinder the great work.

To study the great Dao one must also have regard for the household, nourishing true nature through a gentle disposition. The thicker the virtue of Earth (among the Five Phases, the virtue that symbolizes solidity and bearing), the thicker the De (Virtue/Power) of the elixir; one should worry only about the work of the Dao, not about poverty. If one is forever anxious over want, it is hard to give oneself wholly to cultivation. Once the way of the elixir is accomplished, these attachments are no longer needed; then one may roam the four seas, and of itself a “traveling kitchen” (the immortal lore of provisions that follow and supply food and clothing) will furnish clothing and food.

To cultivate the true amid ordinary life, one need not abandon family, wife, and children. Clothing and food through the four seasons must still be provided by someone, and one need not morning and evening flee heat and cold. After the elixir is complete, one may leave home and travel, passing the years in grotto-heavens and famous mountains; sleeping in the open and eating in the wind, wandering among sea islands, wearing cloud-shoes and holding a moon-staff, walking to the ends of the earth.

Cultivation must avoid entanglement in wine, sex, wealth, and temper, for ordinary people cling to these and thereby deplete essence and spirit; if one knows how to employ them with the mind of the Dao, one will not be hindered by them. I love wine because immortal friends keep me company, and I do not measure it by the sheng or the dou; I take only one fine wine from amid the snowy mountains, pour it into a gourd, and drink of it often. I love beauty, yet not as ordinary people do: I do not sink into the pleasures of the bridal chamber; even amid the crowds of the pleasure quarters I can cultivate in hiding like an immortal, and at the assembly on Spirit Mountain seek out Kāśyapa (a Buddhist worthy). I love wealth, yet I take it by a proper way: I do not use money to buy beautiful women, but seek the “infant” and the “lovely maiden” (Neidan terms that borrow the images of male and female to indicate the essential Qi of Yin and Yang), and sit in clarity and stillness all day refining the elixir. I love qi because it has imposing force—not like Xiang Yu contending for the imperial throne; one must behead the flood-dragon on the floor of the Eastern Sea and slay the crouching tiger atop the peak of Xihua. The dragon can chant and the tiger can roar; subduing dragon and tiger has its own secret knack. If you do not believe it, you may ask Guanyin: the story of the dragon girl offering the pearl precisely displays the mystery of the methods of the Dao.

The tortoise can fly and the serpent can dance; the two lie hidden in the north and together are called Zhenwu (a Daoist guardian deity, also known as Xuanwu). Yin and Yang mingle and transform into the essential Qi of water and fire; immortal sages descend into the world and honor Zhenwu as patriarch of the Dao. Inner nature is the root and life is the stem; though the names differ, they belong to two kinds; join them in one place and the elixir can form, returning to the primordial pre-heaven Qi. Life is the stem and inner nature is the root; their source is the exalted Most High. Take them and refine them into the medicine of longevity; a single grain can preserve both nature and life.

The essence of the sun and the florescence of the moon are stored in Li and Kan in the southwest (Li and Kan belong to the Bagua, the Eight Trigrams, and are often used to symbolize Yin-Yang and water and fire). Gather them in and lock them into the Qian-Kun cauldron (symbolizing the alchemical furnace in which heaven and earth join), and clouds of Qi like kingfisher jade rise and veil the purple aurora. The moon’s florescence meets the sun’s essence; the jade rabbit and the golden crow (symbolizing moon and sun respectively), these two lights, shine upon each other. They move unfixed from west toward east; where the two bowstrings of Yin and Yang meet, the Great Elixir is born.

The yang spirit is the hun-soul and the yin spirit is the po-soul; hun and po lie hidden each within the other. To seek hun and po, one must begin from Qian and Kun, then turn sun and moon within Kan and Li. For the yin po and the yang hun, one who understands cultivation first enters by the gate of Wu and Ji. Within the gate of Wu and Ji there is true Earth (Wu and Ji belong to Earth and symbolize the central pivot that harmonizes Yin and Yang); one must rely on the Mysterious Female (a Daoist term for the root from which creative transformation gives birth and nourishment) to establish the foundation.

“Water tending toward lead” is only a single ingredient; it is neither vital spirit nor Qi. It is originally the root of nature and life, hidden in the Kan position of the pre-heaven heart.

Have you not heard that, on the road to heaven, for the refining of the elixir to go smoothly one cannot do without the aid of hidden virtue? Consider the story of Xu Xun, magistrate of Jingyang in the Jin dynasty, who ascended in flight together with his whole household—can the world lack such things? And have you not heard of the immortal road to Penglai? When one has fulfilled three thousand merits and practices, one may depart riding the clouds. Lü Dongbin of the Tang dynasty, even to this day, still seeks those with an affinity and delivers people onto the path of cultivation.

“The moon at the heart of the Northern Sea’s waves” refers to the true Yin Jing (essence) in the cultivation of Neidan (internal alchemy), and “the clouds upon the ridges of the Southern Mountain” refers to the true Yang Qi (vital energy). To obtain the moon in the waters of the Northern Sea, one must first gather in the clouds upon the ridges of the Southern Mountain: that is, one must first subdue and condense the Yin-Yang Qi within the body. If someone understands the principle involved, then, once the work of cultivation has been brought to completion, one may ride the clouds and depart. Lü Dongbin of the Tang dynasty, even to this day, continues to seek out those with a destined affinity, transmitting the Dao (the Way) of deliverance and transformation.

If one understands this teaching, one may, like a bird in flight, behold the Yuanjun (a goddess in Daoism, who also often symbolizes the true nature of the Primordial Beginning). Moonlight shines upon the Western River, and the crow flies to the Northern Sea; the moon sets and the crow sinks, their traces hard to find, as though one were riding an ox backward within the Guanghan Palace. Here the images of the moon, the crow, rivers and seas, and the Guanghan Palace are used to depict the transformations of Yin and Yang and the realms of Neidan.

The Gate of the Mysterious Female (what Daoists call the root of life, the gate through which Yin and Yang transform and give birth) stands open all day long, and the aperture within it communicates with the Spirit Terrace. It has no lock, nor anyone keeping watch; the Yin-Yang Qi of sun and moon comes and goes of itself. Within the lead cauldron, radiance shines upon the curtains, and white snow falls thick and fast; it is as if, returning from a banquet at the Jade Pool, one brings back a single sweet peach of immortality. These scenes borrow such words as “lead,” “white snow,” “Jade Pool,” and “peach of immortality” to describe the state in which, during the process of refining and nourishing, Jing and Qi congeal and the elixir medicine comes to maturity.

In gathering the medicine, one must understand the timing of the moon in the sky; in cultivating the elixir, one must recognize the metal within water. If the moon contains no Qi of geng-metal, and the water likewise has no nature of metal, then even with true lead, painstaking refinement will be of no avail. Here “medicine,” “metal,” and “lead” are all technical terms of Neidan, referring to the Jing and Qi required for cultivation and to their Yin-Yang qualities.

One must sow the seed in person within the “Valley of No Death” before the rootless tree can blossom; once a fruit of undivided wholeness has formed, swallow it into the Dantian (energy center), and it shines as bright as fiery clouds. “Valley of No Death,” “rootless tree,” and “Dantian” are all images of cultivation, expressing the nurturing of the elixir medicine within the body until it coalesces into one.

From ancient times it has been rare to live to seventy; once the fortune of a lifetime is exhausted, it is hard to recover. Even to begin cultivation now is already too late; when impermanence (death) draws near, regret comes too late. Wealth and honor, poverty and want, each have their allotted fate, yet cultivating practice and discerning the Dao imperceptibly changes a person’s advances and retreats, gains and losses. If one does not take seeking the Dao and attaining immortality as one’s aspiration, one betrays the resolve proper to a person of true worth.

The Sacred Pronouncement of the Dao Patriarch of the Mysterious Heaven (the sacred instruction of a revered deity in Daoism) states it clearly: only when dragon and tiger unite is it the Dao of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection). Who would have thought that, within a dream of green mountains, there lies hidden amid the four quarters of heaven and earth a vitality of everlasting spring through all the ages? The Six Paths (the six destinations of sentient beings in the cycle of rebirth) are vast and without favor; only when the one Qi divides and differentiates do the myriad things arise. Though their names differ, their source in every case issues from the Dao; though the methods of the elixir are explained differently, the root to which they point is likewise one and the same in its connection.

Atop the walls of the White Jade City one circulates the jade liquor; within the golden cauldron one nurtures the golden lotus. Once the firing reaches its moment, the elixir is easily refined; after ten months of nurturing, it is like the nature of the medicine growing firm after the frost has fallen. On the mountain the tiger roars and the wind rises; at the bottom of the sea the dragon intones and the waves surge. After dragon and tiger have contended, the wind falls and the waves grow still, and an infant is born. Here “dragon and tiger” and “infant” symbolize the union of Yin and Yang within the body and the coagulation of the elixir embryo.

The Azure Dragon rides upon fire and flies, and the Vermilion Bird follows; the Dark Warrior, hungry, swallows the metal of the White Tiger. To invert Kan and Li (Kan and Li being the trigram images of water and fire), one must borrow wu and ji (symbolizing Earth); to extract and to augment the medicinal substances, one must rely on bing and ren (symbolizing Fire and Water). Half a jin of true mercury and half a jin of true lead coincide precisely with the waxing of the mid-autumn moon. If one meets the first quarter of the zi hour, do not gather the medicine; if the time of the full moon has come, it is likewise unfitting to speak rashly of taking and using it. The poem coordinates the heavenly stems and earthly branches, the phases of the moon, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) to show that gathering the medicine and the firing must accord with the proper time.

Not seeing is not necessarily blindness; hearing a stillness without sound is not necessarily deafness. Only if one can look upon others as one looks upon oneself, and hear sounds without clinging to sounds, is there true clarity of sight and true keenness of hearing.

The jade rabbit sinks toward the east, yet turns instead into hot Qi; the golden crow rises from the west, yet gives rise instead to cold. One who can understand the mystery of this inverted transformation need not argue over superior and inferior before others. There is birth through inversion, and within birth there is inversion again, until at last an infant without name or surname is condensed. If one would know who this infant is, it is the undifferentiated primordial Jing and Qi from before heaven and earth were formed.

Once the wondrous vessel has come into being, it embraces the myriad phenomena and accords with the heavenly mechanism; stars, sun, and moon revolve in response, and even if Qian and Kun are turned upside down, one remains wholly unaware. Superior De (Virtue/Power) is Wuwei (non-action), without deliberate contrivance; inferior De involves doing and intentional practice. If one wishes to reach the realm of Wuwei that belongs to superior De, one must still lay the foundation through the cultivation of inferior De.

Do not, on the strength of one-sided views, boast of having read much and seen widely; if the root has not yet been understood, do not discourse in lofty terms. The true root lies within the Yin and Yang of Qian and Kun; only by recognizing this does one know that the Dao is not hard to seek.

People often hear that there is a “Golden Elixir” (Jindan). Those who study and practice it are as numerous as hemp, yet those who truly awaken to it are very few. The Golden Elixir is not in the water, nor is it in the mountains; it has all along been in the human body. It lies very near to people, only they do not recognize it. One must understand that it is the original, true root, in communication with heaven and earth; once this is recognized, one knows that cultivating the Dao (the Way) is not difficult.

The reverted elixir, though close at hand, goes unrecognized. People are forever seeking Qi (vital energy) after the hour of zi and before the hour of wu. Some click their teeth and beat the drum hundreds and thousands of times, hoping to find the Golden Elixir, only to feel that it grows ever more difficult. Some close their eyes and store the spirit (Shen), sitting quietly in contemplation; yet when Qi issues from the mouth, they still cannot hear it. They suppose that by doing this they can ascend to heaven, but in fact these practices have nothing to do with the pains and comforts of the body. A hundred days of circulating Qi still show no effect; in the end it is nothing more than a lifetime of toil.

When the sage circulates Qi, it is in accord with the changes of the body’s own Qi. A person’s nature and life cannot be obtained by breath alone. Holding the breath swells the belly and yellows the face, a vain expense of mind and effort. Who can ascend to heaven by circulating Qi? And who can lengthen life by Qi practice alone? Many people circulate Qi and still die in the end; this is not as good as refining and nurturing the Golden Liquid. The great Dao of the immortals lies in cultivating the Golden Elixir; it is said that, once it is achieved, the body can be preserved for a long time.

The so-called “Method of the Thirty-Six Qi for Settling the Spirit” is the continual circulation of Qi after the hour of zi and before the hour of wu. But can one ascend to heaven and lengthen one’s years merely by circulating Qi? Many people circulate Qi and still die in the end; this is not as good as refining and nurturing the Golden Liquid. The great Dao of the immortals lies in cultivating the Golden Elixir; it is said that, once it is achieved, the body can be preserved for a long time.

It also laments that foolish people delight in Chan meditation, matching one another in clever words and phrases; even when the oral formulas have all been spoken, death is still unavoidable. The true Buddha-dharma is different from this. The text here is damaged, and later sentences such as “one child-brother, two…” are difficult to interpret with certainty. The general sense is that the two Qi of Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang) unite as one and form a single elixir, and that the Way of the immortals need not be sought elsewhere.

As for true lead, true mercury, and the true dragon and tiger, if one does not recognize the “daogui” (an ancient alchemical term referring to the key medicinal substance or the dosage in elixir refining), one will go about seeking every kind of method. Understand a single essential formula among them, and one can recognize lead and mercury and comprehend the Golden Elixir. The Golden Elixir is not difficult to grasp; it is only that the human mind is cunning and easily deluded. It is plainly before one’s eyes, yet one is unwilling to examine it with care. If one mistakenly takes the circulation of Qi for the Golden Elixir, one will regret it in the end. With a mistaken understanding of Qi practice, when can one ever penetrate through? The true Golden Elixir is said to be achievable in a hundred days. If the yellow sprout (an image in Neidan, or internal alchemy, symbolizing the first arising of vitality) is constantly preserved in the Three Fields—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers)—one can long remain free of decay.

After the hour of zi, one should practice four methods, so that Yin and Yang intersect and communicate with each other. Yin is taken from outside, and within Yang there is also Yin; the principle of the inverted working of Yin and Yang lies entirely in oneself. The left hand grasps the head of the azure dragon, and the right hand draws the tail of the white tiger; the two enter the mouth at the same time, and one gradually feels a sweetness, only then knowing that this substance is fragrant and pleasing to the taste. This is the “gold within water,” one way of speaking of thorough access to the wondrous principles of the mysterious gate.

The first scroll of the Collected Essentials of Neidan (internal alchemy) of the Various Perfected ends here. The title at this point is in error; it should be the Song of the Golden Liquid Reverted Elixir of Perfected Chunyang.

The middle scroll of the Collected Essentials of Neidan of the Various Perfected, compiled by the Daoist Xuanquanzi, Autumn Moon of Sea and Sky.

Oral Instructions of the Queen Mother

If eating and drinking are without restraint, the body cannot be light and vigorous; if one indulges in music and sensual beauty, the spirit cannot be clear and lucid; if thought and worry never cease, the inner mind cannot find peace. When mind and spirit (Shen) are unsettled, the spirit lacks numinous efficacy; when the spirit lacks numinous efficacy, the Dao (the Way) is hard to bring to completion.

The essential subtlety of cultivating the Dao lies neither in gazing up at the stars and constellations nor in bowing in worship to the moon, nor in harshly afflicting the body. What is precious is to keep the inner mind clear and settled, and not to rush about over miscellaneous affairs; only then may one hope to accomplish the way of the divine immortals and attain long life. There is also this saying: cast off stray thoughts, stop delusive imaginings, and in stillness guard the One—that is, concentrate on the One and do not let mind and spirit scatter.

The Correct Formula of Inner Contemplation of the Most High

“Arising, yet not arising” is the original substance.

What is called “arising” refers to the activity of the human mind. The human mind is of three kinds: the mind of the past, the mind of the future, and the mind of the present. When the mind of the past becomes active, it is called “thinking”; when the mind of the future becomes active, it is called “longing and imagining”; when the mind of the present becomes active, it is called “chasing after circumstances,” that is, giving rise to thoughts as one follows external things.

These three kinds of mental activity never cease, day or night. They weary and deplete the spirit and original Qi (vital energy), injure a person’s true numen, leave one dull and benighted, and cause one to forget and lose the original dharma-body. That people pass through rebirth across myriad kalpas has its root entirely in these three kinds of mental activity. From ancient times to the present, who has ever found liberation through them? If one wishes to be free of them, one must realize the original face from before one’s father and mother had yet given birth to one: at that time, what in fact was there? It is not mind, nor is it thought; when self and other, and things and self, are forgotten all together, one naturally accords with the Dao. Therefore it is said that “arising, yet not arising” is the original substance.

“Extinguished, yet not extinguished” is the function.

What is called “extinction” means that the various desires no longer arise and every kind of thought and worry is cut off. [What follows in the original repeats the preceding text, and the wording is fragmentary.]

When desires of every kind no longer arise, scattered thoughts are cut off together, and the mind no longer clings, this is called “cessation.” What is called “non-cessation” refers to a person’s true nature. True nature is the function of the Dao (the Way), and the Dao is the substance of nature. When substance and function are clearly distinguished, one faces things without becoming lost; whatever one encounters, one remains free and at ease. When nature manifests, the mind no longer clings, and so both “cessation” and “non-cessation” are the function of the Dao.

Substance and function both return to true constancy. One who has attained true constancy can maintain this state in daily life, no matter what the circumstances.

The Zhenren (True Person—one who has succeeded in cultivation) naturally has no dreams. What is called dreamlessness is to abide at every moment in the Dao, so that dreams are naturally absent.

The former thought is the “guest.” The “guest” is a passerby who comes and goes: when a thought arrives, one need not receive it or follow it, but let it pass on its own.

The latter thought is the “host.” What is called the “host” is to notice the thought and brush it aside, not letting it lead one along.

When a thought arises, do not cling to it. What is called non-clinging is to follow the path of the present moment back to the original mind; a thought originally has no fixed source. The Qingjing Jing (Scripture of Purity and Stillness) says: “Looking inward at one’s own mind, one finds that within the mind there is no mind that can be grasped.” This is what is meant by noticing a thought and brushing it aside.

When a thought arises, do not cling to it. What is called non-clinging is to follow the path of the present moment back to the original mind; a thought originally has no fixed source. The Qingjing Jing further says: “Looking inward at one’s own mind, the mind has no fixed mind; looking outward at one’s own body, the body has no fixed form; looking afar at external things, external things likewise have no fixed substance.” Once these three levels of meaning have been grasped, one sees only that everything returns to emptiness. The “emptiness” here is not a concrete form or image.

The former thought is the thought itself, just as waves may rise for no reason even when there is no wind.

The latter thought is “illumination,” that is, contemplative awareness; just as, once the surface of the water grows calm, the water returns to its source.

Removing dust and defilement and stilling thoughts is meant to stop the activity of the mind; what are called “cessation” and “non-cessation” both refer to this function.

Contemplate the inner mind and guard the “One” (single-minded concentration, free of scattering). What is called guarding the One is to let constant De (Virtue/Power) be as it was at the beginning; once the meaning within has been grasped, one need not cling to words.

One only stills the falsely agitated thoughts of the mind, while at the same time maintaining clear awareness.

What does not cease is the bright, pure, and single-minded mind. What is called “non-cessation while illuminating the mind” means that the power of concentration and wisdom are perfectly complete and luminous.

The mind of contemplative awareness does not cease. This means that, while situated amid desire, one is not ruled by desire, and while situated in the dusty world, one is not entangled by it.

The original substance is like the Great Void (a vast, formless emptiness): look for it and it cannot be seen; listen for it and it cannot be heard.

The commentary says: this is to remain far from every kind of clinging to opposites.

One only lets the mind settle in stable concentration within emptiness and clarity. What is called an “empty mind” means clinging neither inwardly nor outwardly.

Do not let the mind harden and remain fixed in any particular state.

Contemplating one’s own mind, one finds that the so-called “mind” has no fixed, unchanging substance, though it cannot be seen and its voice cannot be heard. The commentary says that this means departing from every kind of attachment and prejudice. One need only let the mind be clear, luminous, empty, and still. The so-called “empty mind” means clinging neither to the inner mind nor to outer conditions. Yet one must not freeze the mind or bring it to a stop.

Contemplating one’s own mind, one finds that the so-called “mind” has no fixed, unchanging substance. When thoughts stir, one meets them with awareness: it is like walking through a grove of a hundred flowers without a single petal or leaf clinging to the body. One does not rely on any fixed method. Tracing back to before one’s parents were born, there is neither mind nor dharma—what, then, cannot be laid down? And yet the mind still abides at rest.

Inner thoughts do not spread outward, and thoughts coming from outside do not enter within. If one sinks wholly into emptiness and stillness and loses awareness, one need not even cling to the very act of “forgetting”; there is nothing in the mind that must be extinguished.

If, when thoughts move, one is led along by external things, one becomes restless and unsettled. If there is only awareness without stillness, one is carried away by stirring thoughts and cannot abide in quiet. This is to take discriminating consciousness as the ruling master, and so one cannot transform external things or free oneself from their pull.

When stillness and illuminating awareness are both present, clarity and quiet accord with the Dao (the Way). In this way one can enter deeply and join with the source of the Dao. Mind and Shen (spirit) are bright and lucid, calm and peaceful; Qi (vital energy) is full and unobstructed, moving among the hundred channels, reaching everywhere and circulating through the whole body.

When one no longer clings to either stillness or illuminating awareness, one reaches the state in which self and other are both forgotten and no trace can be found. A clear breeze fills the windows of the hall. At this point one truly penetrates Wuwei (non-action) and returns to the source.

Though the impulse of life is present, one does not cling to life, and every distracting thought is cut off. Though transformation is present, one does not cling to transformation, and through long kalpas one can still endure.

The function that can give rise to life does not fall upon actual arising: the body is like withered wood, and the mind like cold ashes. The function that can transform does not fall upon actual change: nature and life abide unmoved. Only thus can there be constant arising and constant transformation.

The function that can give rise to life does not fall upon actual arising: the body is like withered wood, and the mind like cold ashes. The function that can transform does not fall upon actual change: nature and life abide unmoved. Only thus can there be constant arising and constant transformation.

What is called “constant arising” means that Yang is present within Yin (Yin-Yang); what is called “constant transformation” means that the Jing (essence) and Qi of the five grains, once Yin Qi has received the true Qi of the Nine Yang, naturally undergo transformation. Therefore, at every moment there is arising and flourishing, and there is no moment without change.

As long as the fire of the heart keeps moving downward without cease, living vitality within the body is continually generated; the water of the kidneys likewise continues to rise, and the transformations within the body are not interrupted. When Yin-Yang Qi (vital energy) is harmonized and freely interfused, pervading the whole body and circulating through it, the practitioner can contemplatively illuminate the inner realm and keep this state constantly unbroken. From this one refines Jing (essence) and transforms it into Qi, refines Qi until it becomes Shen (spirit), and then refines Shen so that it unites with the Dao (the Way). The Jing (scripture/classic) says: “One who understands these principles and cultivates them is called a sage.”

Oral Formula of the Mysterious Origin

Black lead and red mercury are the key medicinal substances for refining the elixir. Only the turn from red into black is true cultivation. One must obtain Jing from the black and blood from the red before these two precious medicinal substances can be discerned.

When red enters black, long life can be preserved intact; when black enters red, one can attain the celestial immortal.

The first is lead, also called the ruler; the second is mercury, also called the minister. If the lead is not pure, the mercury can hardly unite with it; if the mercury is able to unite with the lead, it will not lose the “household minister” that assists it. The Blue-Waisted Envoy and the Red-Blood General symbolize the differing Yin-Yang medicinal substances in cultivation. One brings the two substances of unlike nature into union and fuses them into a single whole. Take white mercury as the brain and the yellow sprout as the root; refine the lead into powder and the mercury into dust. Yin occupies the position of Yang, and the number of Yang is matched with Yin. After the moon reaches fullness it gradually wanes; the sun travels forth and returns; cold and heat each have their bounds. Symbolic rules and images are established, and the principle within them is plain to see. Only this Dao can endure together with Heaven and Earth.

Song of the Cauldron and Vessel

The round measure of the cauldron-vessel is taken from three and five, a size of about one cun and one fen; the mouth is taken from four and eight, and the lip is about two cun wide. The body of the cauldron is two chi long and even in thickness; the belly has three navel positions, and when it is set in place it should hang steady and remain mild.

Yin Qi is above, and Yang Qi moves downward. At the beginning and the end one uses “martial fire,” and in the middle one uses “civil fire.” The fire is first applied for seventy days and thereafter for another thirty days; inner refining totals one hundred days, and the fire-phasing must be harmonized and even.

Yin fire appears white, and the yellow sprout is like silver. The medicinal substances travel back and forth within the cauldron, yet they do not leave the vessel. The elixir gradually grows to completion, and its nature becomes pure and mild. In the end it returns to unity and goes back to the source.

To complete this cycle is extremely arduous; one must guard it strictly and must not become lost in dull confusion. This path is distant, profound, and mysterious. If one can fully penetrate it, one can unite Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang).

The zi hour and the wu hour correspond with the moon’s po and with hun Qi. From this the practitioner seeks and attains long life and enters the realm of the immortals. Those who delight in seeking the Dao should study the words of the text, ponder them with care, and need not speak of them at length.

The “Secret Formula of the Firing Process (huohou) for the Golden Elixir (Jindan)” uses twelve sentences to bring Heaven, Earth, and Yin-Yang into full interconnection.

The hour of zi and the hour of wu correspond to each other, and the hun and po souls are harmonized along with them. When cultivation is properly carried out, one may prolong life and enter the immortal realm where immortals dwell. Those who love the Dao (the Way) may seek out this text; please ponder its meaning carefully, without adding unnecessary comment.

Twelve Sentences of the Secret Formula of the Firing Process for the Golden Elixir

The sun and the moon are originally the essence of the two hexagrams Qian and Kun, and the changes in the hexagram images of their movement can be clearly seen. The first three fives and the latter three fives together make thirty; the cycle begins anew, and vital force appears once more.

Yin and Yang arise and pass away, circulating through twelve stages; when the twelve are divided, they become the twenty-four solar terms. As the twenty-four solar terms shift and transform in relation to one another, the principles of refining and nourishing according to hexagram images and line positions are all contained within them.

The single medicinal substance mercury is divided into two parts and transforms into Yin and Yang, namely the two hexagram images Jiji (After Completion) and Weiji (Before Completion). When Jiji and Weiji are further matched as husband and wife, the practitioner only then realizes that Heaven and Earth are present of themselves within the elixir furnace.

Note: “Firing process” refers to the grasp, in Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, of the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang and of changes in temporal sequence; here the point is illustrated by means of the sun and moon, hexagram images, and the solar terms. Expressions such as “the first three fives and the latter three fives,” as well as “twelve” and “twenty-four,” all use number and temporal sequence to describe cyclical change. In Neidan literature “mercury” often carries a symbolic meaning; it is retained here according to the original text and should not on this basis be understood as a substance actually to be ingested.

The Perfected Chunyang said: “These twelve sentences are vast in meaning and accord with the Jing (scripture/classic) of more than five thousand characters. A person’s original nature is the most subtle divinity within the primordial sovereign and original visage—the ruling principle of the source and one’s original countenance—and it is also the single point of spiritual light that governs life. The source of the foundation of life is the root of Prior Heaven. What is formless and exceedingly fine is a current of primordial Qi (vital energy) that preserves original nature. Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit) are the root of nature and life.

This point of spiritually luminous true nature is often veiled by the thoughts of the mind, and the pure, undivided source of life is often constrained by the body and by desire. If one can preserve the body so that the foundation of life is secure, and clarify the mind so that original nature returns to empty stillness and spiritual luminosity, nature and life will support each other: without nature, life can hardly be settled and maintained; without life, nature can hardly remain at peace for long. Nature and life were originally one; only through the working of change do they appear as two aspects.

Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) today each cling to a single side. To fulfill the great Dao of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection)—the complete path of the dual cultivation of nature and life—the key lies in uniting nature and life. To do this, the mind must be clear and the intention still; when mind and intention are pure and quiet, the myriad methods naturally return to the root.

Why have so many people through the ages been unable to preserve nature and life and to penetrate the great Dao? Because the mind chases external things and moves with them, and original nature is drawn along by those things; the mind and intention crave sensual beauty, and life is consumed by desire. Some wish to break free of this, yet they cling to narrow methods and deliberately contrive their practice, or they hold to improper teachings and cultivate in vain. The medicines of the Golden Elixir, extraction and replenishment, probing and circulation, and all such names are in the end only different designations.

If one understands that the Golden Elixir has no fixed form, that the medicines have no fixed names, that the firing times—the timing and measure of cultivation—are not limited to fixed moments, and that extraction and replenishment—the language, in cultivation, for regulating Yin-Yang and for increasing or decreasing the fire—does not depend on deliberate operation, then one should neither cling to any single method nor hold one-sidedly to one extreme. Only when the mind is utterly clear and pure, retaining not the slightest attachment, and spiritual light shines forth and penetrates, has one set out on the natural path and entered the gate of the great Dao. From this one understands that to act through Wuwei (non-action) is the true seeking that does not seek by deliberate effort.

For example, to nurture life alone without understanding original nature is like the ‘spirit in the valley’—a spirit hidden in a mountain valley, a figure for spirit that remains secluded and not yet manifest. To see nature alone while failing to preserve the body is to be like a yin ghost, without light. If one can make nature pure and true and life complete, one may be called an immortal who has attained the Dao and possesses De (Virtue/Power).”

The Golden Liquid Reverted Elixir (Jinye Huandan), a concept of elixir refinement in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), circulates like immortal flowers, enabling one to fly high and travel far and to ascend the celestial mound. Red and yellow substances quickly congeal into the elixir; at that moment the female and male Qi (vital energy) separate, as if pearls and jade were appearing in abundance.

Once this is achieved, one can transform and soar, receiving food and drink for sustenance at any time, while numinous persons and jade maidens attend on either side. In coming and going there is no need to inquire, as if one were in harmony with the Dao (the Way) of Heaven. The quintessence of the elixir congeals like frost and can both sink and rise.

You should cultivate with care and reverence; only then can you reach the realm of the immortals.

For anyone who wishes to cultivate the true and nurture nature, act in accordance with the Dao, discipline the body, condense Jing (essence) and Qi so as to become Shen (spirit), and pursue a cultivation that never ceases, nothing is more important than a quiet mind. Thus, when one’s disposition is tranquil, Jing and Qi can congeal like frost and undergo the changes of sinking and rising.

You should cultivate with care and reverence; only then can you reach the realm of the immortals.

Anyone who wishes to cultivate the true and nurture their nature, practice the Great Dao (the Way), condense Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) so as to form Shen (spirit), and keep this cultivation unceasing must first attain stillness. Thus, only when temperament is quiet can one enter concentration; only when the spirit is quiet can transformation occur; only when the breath is quiet can generation arise.

When one is about to enter stillness, one must reverse the hearing and observe inwardly—that is, withdraw the sense of hearing and turn contemplation within. Let there be no delusive thoughts in the mind, no idle words in the mouth, and no restless movements of the body. In this way, one can see the color that has no color, hear the sound that has no sound, taste the flavor that has no flavor, and comprehend the teaching that uses no words. Visions of spirits will descend, blessings and De (Virtue/Power) will gather, and a peaceful Qi will respond in harmony.

If you wish to settle the spirit, first bathe and observe a purification fast for twenty-five days, then carefully nourish and regulate yourself so that the hun and po are peaceful and harmonious; only then may you enter the quiet chamber to practice. After you enter, you may see a cinnabar serpent come into the heart, or see the Queen Mother descend, or see the body of the Dao appear. All of these are the spirits within the body testing you. Do not be alarmed or afraid. Even if a voice questions you, do not answer; even if you feel harmed or offended, do not fear. So long as you calm the mind and steady your intent, what you see will disappear of itself.

During the course of practice, at such intervals as twenty-five days, forty-five days, eighty-five days, one hundred and five days, one hundred and twenty-five days, one hundred and fifty days, and one hundred and eighty days, spirits may appear; all of these are tests. If you remain at ease and do not respond, they cannot harm you. If you become afraid because of them, you will have failed the test and will also lose the Great Dao. This must be treated with caution and vigilance.

After one hundred and eighty days of practice, the chamber will grow bright of its own accord; matters of safety and danger, life and death, can all be known in advance, and the various offices within the body will appear one by one. After two hundred and eighty days of practice, illnesses of every kind will be eliminated; after one year, the scars on the body will fade away; after one thousand days, both form and spirit will reach a subtle and wondrous state, and one will join the sages in union with the true Dao.

The Verification of the Golden Elixir

First, one must make a great effort and carefully persist in cultivation for a full hundred days, dwelling in a quiet room. Outwardly one forms no attachments, and inwardly one entertains no thoughts; the body stays motionless like a withered tree, and the mind rests as still as cold ashes. Every distracting thought is brought to a stop, and one merges with the Taixu, the vast and boundless void. One lets the lingguang, the inner light of the spirit, come into play, and day and night one keeps to the practice with undivided attention. After three or five days, the mind and Shen (spirit) naturally grow calm and peaceful, joy becomes boundless, and toward others one is humble, gentle, respectful, and yielding. The sage said, “Five days make one hou.” Here hou means a stage in the course of cultivation.

Second, one suddenly feels the fire of the heart descend and the water of the kidneys rise. The five viscera produce fluids, and the channels and vessels throughout the body become free and open. The Qi (vital energy) of the heart channel surges upward; a strange fragrance is smelled in the nose, and a sweet fluid forms upon the tongue. At this point one no longer wishes to eat, and one sleeps neither by day nor by night.

Third, Kan and Li—which in the art of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) commonly stand for water and fire, and for Yin-Yang—join together. Jing (essence) and Qi move in reverse, and so the passes and apertures throughout the body are opened, while the breath among the four limbs and the hundred vessels circulates in harmony.

Fourth, night is as bright as day. One can see things even through a wall and can know in advance the affairs of other people. Looking upward one sees heaven, and looking downward one sees the hells; no external thing can obstruct one’s sight. This comes from the manifestation of the lingguang.

Fifth, at night the Dantian (in Neidan cultivation, an important site for focusing the mind and refining Qi) shows signs of life. The breath reaches forward to the Court of Qi and backward to the Secret Portal. Crimson clouds wind about the crown of the head, a round light wells up between the eyebrows, and brightness streams from the eyes. Do not take these appearances for something strange; they are produced by the yaoli, the “power of the medicine,” the name given in Neidan cultivation to the transformations of Jing and Qi.

Sixth, the mind and spirit suddenly grow excited and seem to leap. One sings and dances alone, utters wild and disordered words, and even composes poems, unable to stop oneself. This is driven by the Three Corpses (sanshi), the inner malign influences which, in Daoist teaching, disturb body and mind and obstruct cultivation. If one does not maintain the practice with care, all the work already done will be entirely wasted.

Seventh, one is at times joyful and at times sorrowful. On meeting people one chats and laughs, and one also delights in discussing profound principles and expounding the methods of the Dao (the Way). This too is caused by the “ghosts of the three households” confusing and disturbing one.

The eighth situation is this: at times one may suddenly speak wild and arrogant words, or even insist on writing poems and composing lyrics, unable to restrain oneself. This is the Three Corpses (Sanshi, the malevolent impure spirits within the body as spoken of in Daoism) making mischief; if one does not guard the practice with care, all the cultivation previously attained will be entirely wasted.

The seventh situation is this: at times one is joyful, at times sorrowful; on meeting people one chats and laughs, and also discourses on the mysterious and discusses the Dao (the Way). This, too, is the three household ghosts (sanhu gui, evil ghosts that disturb the practitioner) confusing the mind and Shen (spirit).

Even when the meridians throughout the whole body have become open and unobstructed, the turbid and impure Qi (vital energy) within the body has not yet been fully removed, the dark yin Qi has not dispersed, and illness has not yet been cured. The practitioner must vow to cultivate with single-minded devotion, temper body and mind again and again, cut off craving and delusive thoughts, cast off self-centered obstinacy, and harbor no selfish regard for external things. Let right mindfulness abide constantly, the inner and the outer be in accord, draw in the upright Qi of heaven and earth, and transform Yin into Yang (Yin-Yang).

During cultivation, food and drink may at times be much and at times little; turbid mucus flows without cease from the nose, the breath smells rank and foul, and there is also nausea and vomiting. In the abdomen there is often a rising and sinking of breath, like thunder crashing and lightning flashing, wind and clouds surging and overturning, the movement of Qi thrusting upward and downward.

After food and drink have been refined and transformed, what is expelled sometimes resembles silver paste or pellets; within the intestines and stomach, rank, foul, and filthy matter is also refined out, and its odor changes from time to time. Afterward, the excretions may resemble ghee, curds, or grease, giving off a rich and unusual fragrance that others nearby can also smell; the urine may display five colors like those of cinnabar. The original text calls these phenomena “stealing and obtaining the myriad things,” meaning that, in the course of cultivation, one has gathered, absorbed, and transformed the Jing (essence) and Qi of all things in heaven and earth.

If one does not guard the practice with care, Jing and Qi may scatter and be lost; once the will slackens, the body grows weak and the mind empty, and the Three Corpses together with the Six Depletions (Liuhuo, the impure evils that, as Daoism describes, deplete Jing and Qi and disturb cultivation) will all break out at once, throwing mind and spirit into disorder. In quiet sitting one becomes doubtful and uneasy, and fear arises in the heart; in sleep and dreams one is also easily startled, and all manner of evil scenes appear one after another.

While cultivating, one should dwell in a quiet chamber, and especially avoid foul odors, the scents of every kind of spice and fragrance, and other miscellaneous vapors; one should also avoid foods that are raw, cold, and hard, overly salty, overly sweet, pungent and spicy, or sour and astringent. If these are not avoided, the true Qi in the five viscera may be injured.

If the Qi of the five viscera is full and abundant, rising and descending without obstruction, the hundred vessels circulating freely, and primordial Qi filling the abdomen, one may naturally cease eating and feel neither hunger nor thirst; afterward one gradually feels drowsy and weary, and one should not be alarmed or find this strange. At the end, the original text further says that if the Qi of the five viscera is damaged, the opposite condition will appear.

When the Qi (vital energy) of the five viscera becomes full and substantial, the rising and descending of the Qi mechanism flows freely, the channels and vessels throughout the body circulate without obstruction, and primordial Qi fills the abdomen, a person will naturally cease all food and drink, feeling neither hunger nor thirst. Afterward one may gradually grow drowsy and oppressed; there is no need to be startled or to find this strange. After the “seven si” (so the original text reads; what it specifically refers to is unclear), one’s strength will gradually increase, the mind will become clear, lucid, and keen, and one will not wish to sleep by day or by night—until the various Shen (spirit) and Qi settle into quiet and the breath returns into the Yuanhai (the place where primordial Qi is stored and concealed). Eating and drinking will then naturally resume.

After one begins again to eat the five grains, one must take special care to avoid foods of every heavy, rich flavor, so as not to injure the vital Qi. This is because the Qi generated when cultivation has only just begun is not yet sufficient to withstand the Qi of grain food.

If one suddenly falls ill, with pathogenic Qi attacking the heart, the Triple Burner (the upper, middle, and lower burners spoken of in Chinese medicine) thrown out of order, the Qi of the five viscera unable to arise and flourish, the passes and orifices of the body blocked, and one’s intake of food reduced; if cold and heat shift without any regular pattern, advancing and retreating without a settled course, the mouth turns sour and astringent, the Qi above cannot descend, and the Qi below cannot ascend, then blood may accumulate between the heart and lungs, and one may suddenly vomit in counterflow two or three bowls of purplish-black blood. Afterward the illness will gradually ease.

If the bodily fluids suddenly surge upward and then descend along the throat (“Chonglou” refers to the throat), one should swallow them at once. These fluids are extraordinarily fragrant and sweet, and can wash the Triple Burner, the five viscera and six bowels, and all the passes, orifices, and spirit-points, so that the whole body becomes open, clear, and free. The Qi of the three fields—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers)—circulates back and forth, bright as the Milky Way; a pearl-like breath wells forth, and the hundred illnesses disperse of themselves. This is the replenishing of what has been depleted of one’s prenatal endowment.

In ordinary times, when one eats the five grains, the mouth often tastes fragrant and sweet, and the heart and Shen are harmonious and glad. Once the Qi mechanism begins to circulate, the channels and vessels of the whole body run smoothly, and one remains peaceful and secure through the four seasons. In this way one naturally accords with the pattern by which Heaven and Earth set Yin-Yang in motion, and with the cycles of the sun and moon as they come and go; day and night the Qi mechanism moves back and forth, each phase having its fixed measure.

Wind howls in the ears, and terror rises in the heart, as if thunder were rolling and lightning flashing and fire were breaking out over the whole body. This is the process of inwardly refining golden essence (in the cultivation of Neidan, or internal alchemy, a name for Jing, or essence, and Qi): the various Yin pathogens disperse, the Three Corpses (the three harmful spirits within the body, as spoken of in Daoism) vanish without a trace, the Qi of the Dantian is brought into harmony, and the Shen and Qi of the Central Palace (the center of the body, where the heart and Shen dwell) gather and condense. At this time, inwardly one does not see one’s nature, and outwardly one does not see form; in a hazy trance it is like a cat catching a mouse, and in deep, dark stillness it is again like the great peng seizing a rabbit. The original text calls this phase of firing “qingdong.”

Food intake gradually diminishes. One may then become emaciated, with a darkened complexion, and may also suffer diarrhea or vomiting. There is pain about the navel and abdomen; both cheeks feel as if pierced by an awl; and sounds arise in the belly like the tearing of silk. This happens because old illnesses long lodged in the viscera and bowels are stirred by the force of the medicine and break out for a time. One often feels a dry mouth and a burning thirst. A decoction of licorice is enough; other medicines must on no account be taken.

When the Five Spirits (wushen; the spirits of the five viscera in Daoist teaching) fail to settle, the chest may likewise show emaciation, darkening, and similar signs, or there may be diarrhea and vomiting, pain at the navel and abdomen, cheeks that feel as if pierced by an awl, and sounds in the belly like the tearing of silk. This is caused by old illnesses of the viscera and bowels being stirred by the medicinal force and flaring up for a time. One often feels a dry mouth and a scorching thirst. Licorice decoction alone will do; other drugs must not be taken.

While the Five Spirits have not yet settled, there may be oppression in the chest and diaphragm, the mind and Shen (spirit) may be distracted, and sleep may be restless. There is no need to be alarmed at this. If one concentrates and holds firmly, allowing the foul matter within the body to be slowly expelled, the condition will gradually ease.

At times the passes and orifices, together with the channels of Qi (vital energy) and the vessels, open throughout the body. The myriad spirits gather; the Five Qi (the Qi of the five viscera) merge and return to the Primordial Sea (the place where primordial Qi collects); and the whole body grows calm of itself. Breathing seems no longer to pass through the mouth and nose, and the pulse seems no longer to appear at the cun opening, the guan position, or the other sites where the pulse is taken. This is called “true stability” (zhending). If one can remain settled through a hundred ke (an ancient unit of time; one day and night comprise one hundred ke) and bring merit and practice to completion, one becomes a divine immortal of the Daluo Heaven.

A practitioner may fall ill, the body feeling as if steamed and scorched by fiery Qi, as though the Four Great Elements (earth, water, fire, and wind, which make up the human body) had been heated. Day and night one is dazed, oppressed, and unclear in mind. Every joint aches as if being pounded to pieces. While the fiery Qi burns and refines, sinews and bones seem to grow soft as cotton; after an occasional sweat, all is well again. This is called “true liberation” (zhentuo).

So long as water and fire share one furnace—in practice, bringing Yin-Yang and water and fire into mutual support—the Five Qi return to unity, the Four Great Elements are no longer constrained by Yin Qi, and pure Yang Qi circulates. Refining the bodily form with the Golden Liquid (the Jing, or essence, and Qi spoken of in Neidan, internal alchemy) brings both body and Shen to a subtle and wondrous state, so that one unites in truth with the Dao (the Way). The workings of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) recede, and Shen roams beyond. This is true liberation.

So long as water and fire share one furnace, the Five Qi return to one, the Four Great Elements are no longer held back by Yin Qi, and pure Yang Qi flows freely. By refining the form with the Golden Liquid, one brings body and Shen alike to a subtle perfection and unites in truth with the Dao. When the action of the Five Phases fades away, Shen can roam the immortal realms, leave the dusty world behind, and wander in freedom.

Once True Qi (zhenqi; innate primordial Qi) is abundant, a time naturally comes when Yin Qi recedes. Thereafter a light of Shen envelops the body, the hundred vessels are harmonized and open, one seems to hear many kinds of music, and the Yin demons have already withdrawn. This is called a response attained in cultivating the true.

In the course of practice, sages and worthies will of themselves arrange matters and issue commissions, and golden writs and purple edicts (documents by which, in Daoist legend, the immortals confer appointment) will also descend from time to time. Though one still dwells in the ordinary world, the heart already abides in the sacred realm.

Names of the Golden Elixir kind.

Circulating Qi (vital energy)—the movement of the breath in Neidan (internal alchemy) practice—into the Central Palace, the site of cultivation at the center of the body, is called “drilling and clustering the Five Phases,” that is, bringing the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) together so that they converge and intermingle.

When the whole body and the mind and Shen (spirit) alike settle and remain unmoving, this is called “subduing the dragon and the tiger.” The “dragon’s chant” is the condensation of Jing (essence) and Qi; the “tiger’s roar” is the steadying of the breath. This is called “securing the numinous root,” that is, guarding the fundamental Jing and Qi within the body.

Jing and Qi are likened to the tortoise and the snake, and the body together with the mind and Shen to the dragon and the tiger; fusing them into one is called “harmonizing the Four Images.” Governing emotion and desire by original nature is called “Metal and Wood joined”; regulating the breath by feeling and intention is called “Water and Fire in intercourse.”

Refining Jing so that it is transformed into Qi, transforming Qi into Shen, and transforming Shen so that it returns to emptiness, is called “the three flowers gathering in the cauldron.” The place where a thought of the mind first stirs is called the “Mysterious Female”; the original nature within the heart is called “mercury within sand”; the Qi within the body is called “gold within water.”

When external circumstances and things cannot intrude, and stray thoughts within do not scatter outward, this is called “sealing fast.” Quiet stillness, without reckless stirring, is called “tending the fire”; according with empty nothingness and the natural course of things is called “operation.”

A sincere and steadfast heart, concentrated in guarding one’s resolve, is called “defending the city”; subduing the stray thoughts and desires of the inner mind is called “fighting in the wild.” Washing one’s thoughts clean and rinsing away deliberation is called “bathing”; sitting upright in stillness and practicing entry into meditative absorption is called “gathering.”

Drawing Yang Qi from the Kan trigram—symbolizing Water and the Yang within Yin (Yin-Yang)—to replenish the Yin Qi of the Li trigram—symbolizing Fire and the Yin within Yang—is called “extraction and replenishment.” The place that transcends the constraints of the body and the Five Phases is called the “Mysterious Pass.” That single point of bright, numinous Qi from before Heaven and Earth had yet been distinguished is called the “True Seed.”

Shen resides in the Qian palace, Qi resides in the Central Palace, and Jing resides in the Kun palace; together these are called the “Three Palaces.” The aperture of returning to the root, the pass of restoring the mandate of life, and the deep valley of empty nothingness are together called the “Three Essentials.”

The body is taken as the furnace and cauldron, the heart as the chamber of Shen, and lead and mercury as metaphors for the medicinal substances used in cultivation. The Qi within the body that rises upward and is warm is called “fire”; it is the Qi engendered within Jing.

Below the Middle Dantian (energy center), the moistening part that lies in a relatively low position in the body is called “water,” and it refers to the seminal fluid in the kidneys.

When anger is restrained, the fire of the heart descends; when desire is moderated, the water of the kidneys rises. This is called “Jiji,” that is, the harmonization of water and fire. If anger cannot be restrained, the fire of the heart blazes upward; if desire cannot be moderated, the water of the kidneys drains away downward. This is called “Weiji,” that is, water and fire not yet brought into harmony.

“True lead” is called the “infant brother,” and it refers to the Jing (essence) in the kidneys; “true mercury” is called the “aged maiden,” and it refers to the blood in the heart. Embryonic breathing—a deep, prolonged, and settled state of breathing spoken of in cultivation—is called the “Yellow Dame,” and it refers to the salivary fluid in the spleen. Emotion and inner nature are likened to a married couple.

The primordial spirit, a person’s original Shen (spirit), remains unspoiled even through distant kalpas. It is as solid as gold, and the more it is forged, the brighter it becomes. This is called the Golden Elixir (jindan).

Nine is the completion number of metal. Emotion belongs to metal; when emotion returns toward inner nature, this is called the “nine returns.” Seven is the completion number of fire. Shen belongs to fire; when Shen is refined and returned to emptiness and stillness, this is called the “seven reversions.”

When the mind is clear and luminous and intention is settled, inner nature is quiet and still while Shen is numinous and quick, and the two factors of emotion and inner nature congeal into a single mass. When the Three Origins—Jing, Qi (vital energy), and Shen—gather together, this is called “the embryo formed.”

The cultivator must cherish and guard the spiritual root, the fundamental basis on which cultivation depends, just as a dragon guards its precious pearl and a hen broods over and protects its egg, holding it with care and allowing no lapse. If one falls short by even the slightest degree, all the work done before is entirely wasted.

When the Yang spirit—the pure Yang spirit spoken of in cultivation—departs from the physical form, this is called “emerging from the embryo.” Returning to the root and restoring one’s original life, so that life goes back to its primordial state, is called “transcendence.” Breaking through the void is called “final completion.”

Collected Essentials of the Neidan (internal alchemy) of the Various Perfected, middle volume.

The lower volume is for the time being lacking.