《重阳立教十五论》

First, Dwelling in a Hermitage

Anyone who leaves home to cultivate the Dao (the Way) should first find a hermitage in which to settle. An “an” is simply a dwelling. Once the body has a place to rely on, the mind gradually grows calm; only when breath and spirit are harmonized and at ease has one truly set out on the path of cultivation.

Daily activity must not be too strenuous, for overwork injures one’s original Qi (vital energy); nor should one remain entirely inactive, or Qi and blood will stagnate. Movement and stillness must both be kept in due measure if one is to abide peacefully in one’s proper station.

This is the method of dwelling in a hermitage.

Second, Wandering Like a Cloud

Cloud-wandering—traveling about on foot in search of the Dao—takes two forms.

People of the first kind roam mountains and waters, admiring beautiful scenery and vivid flowers and trees; or they tour the bustle of prefectural cities, viewing the towers and pavilions of monasteries and Daoist temples, seeking out friends, indulging in pleasure, or thinking only of clothing and food. Even if they travel ten thousand li, wearying body and mind and taking in every scene under heaven, their mind and Shen (spirit) remain scattered and their Qi and strength decline. This is merely rushing about to no purpose; it is not true cloud-wandering.

People of the second kind seek the Way of nature and life—the path of cultivating oneself, awakening to the Dao, and resolving the matter of birth and death. They look for accomplished persons and inquire into profound principles. They do not fear climbing steep mountains to visit renowned teachers, nor do they tire of long journeys as they ask after the Dao wherever they go. If they encounter a single saying that accords with the heart, their inner awakening can come forth. Having understood the great matter of life and death, they become true cultivators of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection). Only such people are genuine cloud-wanderers.

Third, Studying the Scriptures

In studying the scriptures (Jing), one must not chase after the written words alone, lest the eyes grow dazzled and the mind confused.

One should grasp the meaning of the words so that it accords with the inner heart; after reading, one must still inquire into the intent and principle they contain. Only when the principle is understood and its meaning is truly tasted can what one has gained be taken into the heart.

Through long and concentrated effort, the light of the mind naturally grows full and wisdom manifests, so that many matters become clear. At this point one should gather in mind and spirit and nourish them, not letting them run unchecked, lest the root of nature and life be harmed.

If one does not inquire into the original meaning of the books, but only wishes to memorize more and talk more, showing off superior talent before others, then the purpose of reading and cultivating the Dao is lost.

The value of reading lies in grasping the original meaning of the Jing (scripture/classic). If one seeks only to memorize a great deal and recite widely, and then shows off one’s intelligence before others, this not only does nothing to aid cultivation but also depletes Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy). Even if one has read many books, what benefit does that bring to cultivating the Dao (the Way)? Once the meaning in the books has truly been understood, one may keep it stored in the heart; there is no need to flaunt it.

The Fourth Discourse: Compounding Medicines

Medicines gather the numinous and refined Qi of mountains and rivers and the Jing (essence) of plants and trees. Their natures may be warm or cold, and they can be used to tonify or to purge; their potency may be strong or weak, and they may regulate from within or act upon the exterior. One who earnestly studies the principles of medicine can save people’s lives; a mediocre physician may harm the body.

A person who cultivates the Dao cannot afford to be ignorant of the principles of medicine. If one knows nothing of them, one cannot draw on medicines to assist the cultivation of the Dao. One must not, however, covet wealth on this account. Greed for money outwardly squanders material goods and inwardly harms the work of cultivating the True. Acting in this way not only brings fault in the present life but may also incur karmic retribution in a life to come. Disciples of this school should consider the matter carefully.

The Fifth Discourse: Construction

When a person who cultivates the Dao puts up a thatched hermitage or a simple hut, it is enough that it shelter the body and keep out wind and rain. Sleeping in the open and passing the night in the wild brings the disturbance of sun and moonlight and the like.

To build houses with carved beams and painted rafters, tall and splendid, is likewise not what a well-cultivated practitioner of the Dao ought to do. Are great halls and lofty chambers really the proper station in life of one who cultivates the Dao? Felling trees and damaging the vitality of the earth’s veins in order to construct dwellings, squandering wealth and taking the property of the common people—none of this accords with the original intent of cultivating the Dao.

To cultivate only outward merit while not cultivating inner De (Virtue/Power) is like a painted cake that cannot satisfy hunger, or piled snow that cannot serve as food. Even if many people are wearied by the labor, in the end it is all in vain. One who aspires to cultivate the Dao should early seek out and restore the “jeweled hall” and “vermilion tower” within one’s own body—that is, ground the work of cultivation in oneself. If one does not understand how to practice and maintain this, body and mind will gradually decline. The intelligent disciples of this school should examine the matter carefully.

The Sixth Discourse: Joining Companions in the Dao

When those who cultivate the Dao join in company and go together, it is originally so that they may support one another in illness, and so that later they may attend to one another’s affairs after death: if you die, I will bury you; if I die, you will bury me.

One ought, however, first to examine what sort of person the other is, and only then decide to join company. One must not join company first and only afterward begin to choose.

If one becomes attached to people and affairs, the mind and Shen (spirit) are held fast by them; if one is wholly without feeling, people grow distant from one another. One should have something to hold in concern, yet not be bound by that concern; only by mastering due measure does one accord with the middle way.

Those who choose to cultivate the Dao (the Way) generally fall under three suitable conditions: they understand the original mind, they have wisdom, and they have aspiration. There are also three unsuitable cases: the mind is unclear and clings to external things; wisdom is lacking, and the inborn nature is dull and turbid; and there is no resolve, so that one merely enters seclusion and practices to no avail.

The basis of cultivating the self and establishing one’s life lies here: when a person joins the monastic community (a Daoist cultivation group), one must value that person’s mind and resolve. One should not simply comply with personal feelings, nor judge by appearance alone. One ought to select those who are perceptive and noble in character; to look only at external conditions is to miss the fundamental method of choosing people.

Seventh Discourse: Seated Meditation

Seated meditation is not merely setting the body straight and closing the eyes; that is only the outward form of seated meditation.

True seated meditation is to remain, through the twelve double-hours (the course of a day)—whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, and in every situation of movement or of quiet—with a mind as steady as Mount Tai, unshaken, while guarding the four gates of the eyes, the ears, the mouth, and the nose, so that scenes from outside do not enter within. If so much as a thread of thought or a flicker of mind and Shen remains, it cannot be counted as true quiet sitting.

One who can do this, though still in the dusty world, already has a name and place among the immortals. There is no need to travel far to visit others, for the worthy and the sage are within oneself. When merit and practice reach completion, one can shed the physical form, ascend to the True, and become an immortal; when the elixir method is achieved, the consciousness of Shen can roam beyond the eight directions.

Eighth Discourse: Subduing the Mind

On the subduing of the mind: if the mind is always clear and quiet, unmoved by external things, hushed in dim stillness and not seeing the myriad things, profound and silent, making no distinction of inside and outside, and free of even the slightest thought, then this is a settled mind, and it need not be subdued any further.

If the mind follows outer conditions as they rise and fall, indulges in wild and confused thoughts, is topsy-turvy and unstable, searches east and west, and cannot grasp the thread of things, then this is a disordered mind. It should be removed at once and not left to develop; otherwise it will corrupt the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) and harm nature and life.

Whether walking, sitting, or lying down, one should at all times subdue the disordered mind, and regard hearing, seeing, and sensory awareness as afflictions.

Ninth Discourse: Refining Nature

Regulating and nurturing the mind and nature is like tuning the strings of a qin: if a string is drawn too tight, it breaks easily; if too slack, it yields no sound. Only when the tension is just right can the instrument be properly tuned.

It is also like casting a sword: too much steel, and the sword snaps readily; too much tin, and it bends and curls. Only when steel and tin are in due proportion can a fine sword be cast.

Those who regulate and refine the mind and nature, taking these two methods to heart and putting them into practice, will naturally grasp the subtlety within them.

Tenth Discourse: Matching the Five Qi

The Five Qi (vital energies corresponding to the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) gather in the Central Palace (the central region within the body), and the Three Origins (the three primordial Qi, or source powers, of Daoist cultivation) converge at the crown of the head. The Azure Dragon exhales red mist, and the White Tiger breathes out black smoke; the host of spirits arrays itself and appears, while currents surge through the white vessels (the channels, or vessels of Qi, spoken of in cultivation). Cinnabar—here a symbol of Neidan (internal alchemy)—shines with dazzling brilliance, and lead and mercury (alchemical terms, also often used to symbolize the Yin-Yang Qi within the body) condense, clear and pure.

The body sojourns for a time in the human world, while spirit-consciousness already roams the heavens.

Eleventh Discourse: Blending Nature and Life

Nature is Shen (spirit); life is Qi.

When nature and life unite, it is like a bird rising on the wind, ascending lightly and swiftly, sparing effort and readily achieving something. The Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) says, “The means of seizing and controlling it lies in Qi,” and this is precisely the principle.

Those who cultivate the True must inquire into this deeply. Yet the teaching should not be disclosed to people of shallow understanding, lest one incur the punishment of the gods.

Nature and life are the foundation of cultivation and must be tempered with care and single-minded attention.

Twelfth Discourse: The Sagely Dao

To enter the Dao (the Way) of the sages, one must apply the will with arduous effort over many years, continually accumulating merit and practicing good deeds. Only those of lofty insight, worthy and thoroughly perceptive, may set out upon this path.

Even while dwelling in a single room, mind and nature can fill heaven and earth. The holy host throughout the heavens silently protects and sustains, and the Immortal Lords of the Limitless (Wuji Xianjun, exalted deities of Daoism) encircle one unseen. The practitioner’s name is entered in the Purple Palace (Zifu, the immortal realm spoken of in Daoism), and one’s place is set among the ranks of the immortals. The body still sojourns in the dusty world, yet the mind is already lucid and awakened, standing beyond the affairs of the mundane world.

Thirteenth Discourse: Transcending the Three Realms

The original text ends at the title; no body is provided.

The Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm are together called the Three Realms.

When the mind is no longer filled with all kinds of thoughts and desires, one has gone beyond the Realm of Desire. When the mind no longer clings to the various external appearances of things, one has gone beyond the Realm of Form. If the mind still clings to the idea of emptiness, one remains within the Formless Realm. Once these Three Realms are left behind, the spirit dwells in the realm inhabited by immortals and sages, and the spiritual nature also attains the realm of Jade Clarity (Yuqing), the pure, lofty, and wondrous realm spoken of in Daoism.

The Fourteenth Discourse: The Method of Nourishing the Body

The Dharma-body is a formless image. It is neither empty nothingness nor solid existence, and it has no front or back, no high or low, and no long or short. When it is put to use, nothing lies beyond its reach; when it is gathered in and concealed, it is utterly still and leaves no trace. If one can attain this Dao (the Way), one ought to nurture it well.

The more one nurtures it, the greater the efficacy; the less one nurtures it, the smaller the efficacy. Do not set your heart only on departing, nor cling greedily to the world. Whether one leaves or remains, one should follow what is natural.

The Fifteenth Discourse: Leaving the Mundane World

What is called leaving the mundane world does not mean that the body departs from the world, but that one’s state of mind becomes transcendent.

The body may be likened to the root of the lotus, and the mind to the lotus flower: the root is planted in the mud, yet the flower blooms in the air. One who has attained the Dao, though dwelling amid the ordinary, keeps the mind settled in the sacred realm.

Nowadays some people seek eternal life without death and wish to leave the mundane world. This is deeply foolish, for they have not understood the principle involved.

These fifteen discourses are meant to remind those within the tradition who aspire to cultivate the Dao. They should savor them carefully and examine them with penetrating insight.