《鸣鹤余音》Vol. 2

Coming and going, it stretches on without end; this wondrous scene before my eyes is truly beyond words. This place is almost like another blessed grotto-heaven within the human world. As long as one stands firm and sincere, and lets the years pass, the world may grow frivolous and shallow; even if the seas turn into mulberry fields, one’s resolve will not change. When Shen and Qi are in harmony, and Yin and Yang rise and descend in due measure, one has already become a free and carefree immortal on earth. With no troubles in the heart, one can write to one’s heart’s content, filling page after page.

Eighteen: Venerable Feng

After countless kalpas, before the Buddha King of Majestic Sound, awakening came in an instant, without relying on any external circumstances. I wander freely as I please, able to go to the ends of the earth, like an idle cloud or a wild crane, never keeping count of the passing years. Beneath the moon and before the breeze, I roam at ease; when the mood takes me, I sing aloud, and when tired, I sleep in peace. Looking back, I see only falling blossoms and drifting catkins, distant waters and wisps of mist.

The Great Dao is originally without words and cannot be transmitted. “Dao” is merely a name imposed for convenience; what Zen teaching is there, really, to cling to? Peach blossoms red and willows green—this is how the Dao naturally reveals itself. Why contrive or imitate the Zen riddles of striking bamboo or plucking a lotus? The Great Dao is vast and formless; true emptiness is not something that exists in itself. Why argue over a tiny detail when the world stretches boundlessly? If that stone lion could speak, it too would dare to babble about earth and heaven.

Nineteen

From ancient times to the present is no more than an instant; in the blink of an eye, a hundred years have passed. Whether as wealthy as Shi Chong or as poor as Chen Ping, whether short-lived like Yan Hui or long-lived like Robber Zhi, all must go toward death. The new and old graves beside the southern road bury fools and sages alike. No one can see anymore the beauties who once wore golden hairpins, or the guests who once walked in pearl-soled shoes.

Because they do not cultivate the Returning Elixir, which in Daoist Neidan practice is a name for refining inner Jing and Qi, everyone says they are ordinary mortals with no karmic affinity cultivated in a former life. Even the stubborn stone in the courtyard can hear the teaching; even an old tree south of the city can become an immortal. We drink wine and compose poems, play the zither and wear swords, joining companions in joyful friendship in this human world. When people ask me what the Dao is, I smile and point to the blue sky.

Red Candlelight Shakes

The golden chrysanthemums have just opened, and the Jade Toad—the bright moon—has newly reached its fullness, hanging high in the sky with a clear, radiant glow. The splendid scene of the Double Ninth Festival now appears especially grand. The full moon, like a mirror suspended aloft, shines in every direction. It rises at the center of the heavens; the fragrance of osmanthus fills the air, the clouds have dispersed, and heaven and earth open wide. Green branches sway gently. Within the moon’s pure, round orb, wondrous sights are said to dwell. Who knows how many secluded gardens there are, filled with delicate herbs and flourishing flowers, in the grotto heavens and blessed lands? Climbing a high terrace late at night is the finest way to admire the scene, just as the moon reaches its full, brilliant radiance. A cool breeze brings lingering fragrance. Moonlight gleams like silver across the pond; frost gathers in the air, and the moon hangs like an ice wheel unchanged through the ages. Who can comprehend the serene purity and clarity within it?

Linjiang Xian

One who understands the Great Dao and wanders freely, unbound by worry or attachment, sings aloud each day with a joyful heart. Alone, he keeps watch over his clear and true nature, limpid as the moon above the Three Isles, at ease as a cloud in the highest heavens. His words transcend the world’s delusive dreams, and not a trace of worldly thought clings to his heart. He roams through the seasons, keeping company with every flower. Within the gourd lies a realm where night never falls; beyond the world stretches a landscape of everlasting spring.

Yingti Xu · Lü Dongbin

The mountain path across Three Peaks is steep. White snow blankets the empty cliffs, and auspicious mists rise. By the mountain stream, dragons roar and tigers howl; lightning flashes, stars burst into brilliance, and red light surges forth, frightening even ghosts and spirits into hiding. Lead and mercury gather and bind together, nurtured and refined in the furnace until they form an elixir. The elixir transforms rubble into a precious treasure. A foolish person need only take a single pill to prolong life. And what is more, there are ten thousand divine pearls, shimmering with the radiance of rosy clouds and spread throughout the palace halls.

Sounds Beyond the Singing Crane, juan 4

Compiled by the Daoist Peng Zhizhong of Mount Xianyou

“Su Muzhe,” by Ma Danyang

In the upper Dantian (the upper region of the body cultivated in internal alchemy), a path leads to the Mysterious Void. A jade lock and a golden tower guard the gate, while the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) stand watch over the treasure house like a beaded curtain. On the left is the Azure Dragon; on the right, the White Tiger. The foreign monk in green robes is the earth of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three highest deities revered in Daoism).

The White Tiger crouches, and the Azure Dragon crouches too. Defeat the Three Corpses (inner evils or spirits said in Daoism to damage the cultivation of body and mind), and you can take the River Cart road (a process in internal alchemy likened to Qi circulating through the body). Tether the mind’s restless horse and monkey (a metaphor for scattered, unruly thoughts), carry them up to Kunlun (here, a site of cultivation within the body), and then send them through the Muddy Pellet (a site of cultivation in the head).

The Second

The middle Dantian (the middle energy center) holds many mysteries. In the Pool of Gathered Treasures, five-colored clouds shine. After subduing the tiger and defeating the Three Corpses, you can take the River Cart road. Tether the mind’s restless horse and monkey, carry them up to Kunlun, and then send them through the Muddy Pellet.

The Second

The middle Dantian holds many mysteries. In the Pool of Gathered Treasures, five-colored clouds shine, and the Maiden and Infant (images in internal alchemy for Yin-Yang essence and Qi) joyfully come together. Refine the Golden Elixir, and it will be of immeasurable worth. Take a single pill, and its fragrance is wondrous; after the bones are changed and the womb renewed (a description of the transformation of body and mind through cultivation), every illness disappears. Return from old age to youth, as though the years had grown lighter. In carefree delight, lean beside mountain cliffs and streams, and await the dawn.

The Third

The lower Dantian (the lower energy center) reveals the way to immortality. There is an ox there that eats no ordinary grass. The Jade Fluid and Flower Pond (internal alchemical terms for the body’s fluids and the place where they gather) taste sweet; White Snow and Yellow Sprouts (images of internal alchemical cultivation) feed the ox to fullness. A golden dragon is tethered to its head, and a silver cord coils around its body. Pure white and immaculate, it leaves snow wherever it goes. Tossing its head and swishing its tail, it bellows, crossing seas and rivers to ascend straight to Penglai Island.

The Fourth

Langranzi, cherish and nourish Jing, Qi, and Shen. Though the Golden Elixir is but a single pill, it is often offered for sale in the marketplace; yet for forty years, no one has come to buy it.

Langranzi reminds people to preserve their Jing, Qi, and Shen. The Golden Elixir—the gathering of Jing and Qi and the attainment sought through Daoist Neidan cultivation—is like a treasure displayed in the street, yet for forty years no one has recognized or claimed it. People become absorbed in the bustle of sensual desire, repaying the entanglements of love between men and women. When cultivation reaches the “Nine in the Third Place” (a line position in the Tai hexagram of the Book of Changes, used here to indicate a stage in cultivation), Heaven and Earth communicate and Yin and Yang harmonize. The Golden Crow in the Li trigram, symbolizing Yang energy, flies into the realm of the Silver Toad, symbolizing the moon and Yin energy, and one can then continue advancing to higher levels. Even when one has reached the top of a hundred-foot pole, one must take another step. These arts of cultivation cannot be replaced by the skills of others, however capable they may be.

The human body is like a puppet: its brightly colored adornments seem vivid, but are all illusory. People gather before the stage to discuss the past and present, calling to one another as they dance in vain before the crowd. At birth, we arrive in this world like a storm; when the breath stops, the seven Po souls and three Hun souls—the spiritual components said in Daoist and traditional thought to make up a person—leave the body. Even if someone beats drums and performs before the stage, they cannot call back the dead or make them return to the world of the living.

[Southern Tune] “Shengzhaizi”

At night, I suddenly witnessed a scene: several moths flew toward a lamp, a sight that brought a sigh to my lips. Unable to let go of desire, greed, and anger, they mistook the light for something worth pursuing, flying up and down. They fluttered again and again before the flame, unafraid even after being burned, and stopped only when they had been reduced to charred ash in the lamp.

This scene is a warning to everyone: do not cling to romantic love like moths. If you sink into passion until old age and fading beauty—your face creased, hair white, back bent, head lowered, ears deaf, and eyes dim—and only then wish to turn back and cut off your past affairs, it will be too late. While your body is still healthy, become clear-minded and free-spirited; strive to leap out of the worldly prison. Only then will you truly have set out on the path to liberation.

“Jie Yuanjie” (Untying Resentments), by Qiu Changchun

A day passes in the north, and a day passes in the south; day by day, all four directions—east, west, north, and south—flow onward. People come and go, hurrying everywhere through a drowsy, dreamlike life, and their days are spent in this way. When will the Dao-heart—the desire to cultivate the Dao and seek the truth—awaken? A hundred years of human life are brief; in truth, few days remain, and without our noticing, today and tomorrow keep pushing us forward. The days pass one after another. When at last the good news handed down by the sages arrives and the Grotto-Heaven opens, that will be the day I return.

The heart is deep and still. One may wander back and forth, letting the days pass, and wait for the day when the Dao-heart suddenly opens. A hundred years of human life are brief; in the blink of an eye, they amount to no more than a few days. Time slips quietly onward: once today has passed, tomorrow arrives. Before we know it, the days have gone by, until the day when good news comes from the sages. When the Grotto-Heaven, the immortal realm where the immortals dwell, opens, that will be the day I return.

The second

The mountains and rivers are at peace, and war has ceased. All beneath Heaven is peaceful, and harmony fills the four directions. People frequently hold Zhaijiao, Daoist purification and blessing rituals, to repay Heaven, Earth, and the gods. We give thanks for their vast grace and the compassionate protection bestowed unseen. It is rare for an immortal to descend into the world even once in a thousand years; now that we have been fortunate enough to encounter one, we must not take this lightly. Offerings should be made with solemnity and sincerity, and our reverence should deepen year by year. When an auspicious day arrives, everyone gathers to celebrate with abandon.

“Welcoming the Oriole’s Rise”

Everyone fears life and death. This cycle of rebirth seems like the body being sold and resold without end. How can one escape it? Without realizing True Constancy, one will force the growth of countless offshoots, and in the end will never understand the nature and life. One cannot understand “being” or grasp “nonbeing,” and so cannot distinguish the true from the false. Once all things are left behind, where, in the end, does this original point reside?

I venture to ask: what should one rely on to cultivate the Dao and nourish one’s nature? What does it mean to understand the mind and see one’s nature, and truly remain unbound by myriad attachments? What does it mean to be as clear and free as the bright moon and a gentle breeze, limpid and unrestrained? This disciple wishes to understand the true method of cultivation. I earnestly beg the Master, in compassion, to offer guidance and lead me to awakening.

The second

Now I no longer fear life and death. With a vigorous sweep, all afflictions are dispelled. True Constancy stands forth alone, without producing further offshoots; neither the nature nor the principle of life is higher or lower. There is no distinction between inner and outer, for everything is already contained within. From the beginning, there has been no distinction between true and false. Once one understands all things, one knows that this single reality, thus as it is, needs no other place to reside.

Having understood the principle of nonbirth, one need neither contrive nor force anything. The Great Dao is not attained through grasping. At the Six-Two position, one understands the mind and sees one’s nature; one’s nature reveals itself at every moment, and so all attachments can be released. Everywhere is like the bright moon and a gentle breeze: truly limpid and unrestrained. Thus one understands the true method of cultivation: abide in the realm of true emptiness and freedom, where nothing is born and nothing dies.

“Kindling the Heart’s Fragrance,” three poems in the ci tune form, by Qiu Changchun, that is, Qiu Chuji.

The Great Dao has no fixed form. How, then, can the mind, confined to a tiny space, rely on it or grasp it? Everyone should cultivate keen wisdom and insight, learn to subdue every desire, and unravel and cut off turbulent emotions. In the midst of noise, keep the heart at ease; amid busyness, remain still; in murky surroundings, preserve clarity. Let your manner be as innocent as an infant’s and your heart as clear as ice and snow. Awaken from ignorance, gain insight, and see the road ahead. I earnestly offer you this counsel, so listen carefully: give your full effort, hold fast to your full resolve, and be wholly sincere.

The Second

Desire fades and is forgotten, and the burdens of worldly ties fall away. Take joy in emptiness and quietude, and honor the true Dao. Let the body be as free as a wild crane and the nature as untroubled as a solitary cloud. Wherever you go, make yourself at home, with the wind for companion and the bright moon for neighbor. Live in the world without being stirred by worldly affairs; rise above convention and stand apart from the crowd. Grasp the hidden principles and give voice to “li luo li □.” A little less □, and the face can remain fresh for years. Cultivate the work of utmost truth, follow the path of Quanzhen (Complete Perfection), and serve the True Lord.

Lament of Zhaojun

After sitting in stillness, you talk of Chan and the Dao; once you rise, you cannot put even a little into practice. In speech and in thought, you insist you are right—how foolish. In daily life, you scheme and calculate in a thousand ways, but what have you truly let go of? You still hope to keep your face young forever. To cultivate the work of utmost truth, follow the path of Quanzhen, and serve the True Lord is indeed difficult.

Lament of Zhaojun

After sitting in stillness, you talk of Chan and the Dao; once you rise, you cannot put even a little into practice. In speech and in thought, you insist you are right—how foolish. In daily life, you scheme and calculate in a thousand ways, but what have you truly let go of? To become an immortal—how difficult!

The Second

To study the Dao, one must be wholly devoted. Without firm resolve, it is difficult to escape the cycle of life and death. Whatever circumstances arise, let your resolve remain as steadfast as a mountain, and you will naturally find stability. Every method depends on purity and stillness; only when the heart and nature are settled can you cultivate nature and life. Grasp the wondrous principle of empty stillness, and the Dao will become accessible.

Dawn Over Frosty Skies

A brief life passes in ceaseless toil, drifting all the while in worldly desires. We struggle in vain to earn a living, only to be submerged in the sea of passion. People scheme against one another and play clever tricks, chasing fame and profit through a life like a dream. Even with every kind of honor and riches, who thinks of how swiftly time slips away?

The Second

The world changes at a relentless pace. Do not exhaust yourself rushing about over its affairs. Leave the dusty world early and withdraw to the mountains and forests, where you can build a low thatched hut. Sparse bamboo is reflected before the window; when the breeze passes, its leaves whisper softly. Keep company with overlapping green mountains, and let the world’s transformations and changing fortunes unfold as they will.

“A Full Blossom Along the Road, Urgently Sung”

The west wind sweeps across the Wei River, and fallen leaves blanket Chang’an. Everyone in the dusty world rushes about, while I alone remain at ease. Within the body, the furnace and cauldron of cultivation take shape naturally; the Qi of Yin-Yang coils like a tiger and twists like a dragon. After nine cycles of refinement, cinnabar is formed. Take just one tiny pill, and you can become an immortal who walks the earth.

Yet even wealth and high status, seemingly at their very peak, are no more than a dream of millet not yet cooked: once you wake, it vanishes. In a human world beset by disputes over right and wrong, it is hard to stand firmly in accord with the Dao. So I sweep off my sleeves and leave for Jiangnan; amid white water plants and red smartweed, I wander once more through Penpu and Mount Lu.

Here, “furnace and cauldron,” “tiger,” “dragon,” and “cinnabar refined through nine cycles” are terms of Neidan cultivation. The images of the furnace and cauldron, tiger and dragon, and repeated refinement describe the cultivation process. “Knife and spoon” refers to a very small amount of medicine or an elixir.

“Mountain Brook”

Better to return and live as a carefree person at ease. Why invite trouble for no reason and stir up one dispute after another? The world is so vast—where is there no place to dwell? Why not settle somewhere first and consider how to make a living?

Find a place near Mirror Lake, by low hills and woods, and move into a small hermitage. Live within your means, wearing coarse clothes and eating simple meals. Recite verse in the breeze, admire the moon, and pass your life in quiet ease. The affairs of the dusty world are tangled like a skein of thread. Why should I concern myself with them?

“Waves Scouring the Sand”

Green pines grow among the slender bamboo, their verdant shadows layered upon one another. A Daoist pavilion lies hidden among the white clouds; the red dust of the world across the shore cannot reach this place, and the water reflects the cool, clear sky.

This scene is just like the landscape of Qiao. An immortal elder dwells by the cave entrance. After playing a plain-stringed zither, he drinks freely from a golden goblet. Facing the mist and rosy clouds, he roams in contentment, with nothing to weigh on his mind and only the bright moon and fresh breeze for company.

A master of the self—the true nature that governs body and mind within a person—lives alone in the Palace of the Numinous (the Daoist dwelling place of the spirit of the heart). He has no form or shadow, and leaves no trace to follow. Even with keen eyes and close scrutiny, his shape cannot be seen. His body is like empty space: he comes and goes without hindrance, beyond the bounds of Heaven and Earth. Now I gather him into the Elixir Furnace and set in motion the Samadhi Fire of the Celestial Circuit—the inner refining fire that follows the circuit of the heavens—tempering him again and again until true nature appears.

My body is like empty space: I come and go without hindrance, beyond the bounds of Heaven and Earth. Now I gather him into the Elixir Furnace and set in motion the Samadhi Fire of the Celestial Circuit, tempering him again and again until true nature appears.

I have three rooms, deep in the mountains. There are no walls around them; the sea serves as a fence. All things stand like the rooms’ bracket supports, and the blue sky is their roof. I have lived there for decades, yet neither wind nor rain finds its way inside. This, too, is a bond carried over from a former life. Once cultivation and merit reach completion, one can subdue a living dragon and tame a fierce tiger; only then can the powers of an immortal be revealed.

Make room for leisure amid the bustle; seek stillness amid the noise. There is no need to chase fame and gain. Human life is brief, while worldly affairs are endless. When will attachment and desire ever come to an end? The sun and moon drive us relentlessly toward old age; before we know it, black hair has turned white. The human body is only a form that gathers temporarily through causes and conditions, and is constantly changing. On careful reflection, what can we truly rely on?

Live in accord with circumstances, and get along with others without creating discord. Why invite worries and brood in gloom? Wealth and rank are arranged by Heaven; splendor, too, is a matter of fate. There is no need to keep calculating. When the heart is free of burdens, the scene before you naturally grows clear; in such a life, every moment is a happy one. If you wish everything to go as you desire, then wait patiently.

“Crossing the Golden Luan,” by Perfected Niu.

In the Brocade Hall, the jade immortals assemble at the jade banquet. When the auspicious hour arrives, they burn precious incense together, its fragrance curling into clouds of auspicious smoke. They celebrate the Three Perfected Ones and the Five Patriarchs of Double Ninth, revered by the Quanzhen tradition, and pray that the present sage ruler enjoy long life and good health.

Long ago, the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan rode a dragon through the skies, hastening to court before the Jade Emperor. At that time, all the gods gathered for a banquet and music, lingering for a long while. A gracious decree came from the immortal realm; a golden youth raised a wine cup, while a jade maiden conveyed its message. The palaces and gardens of the immortals were wondrous to behold, with phoenixes alighting and cranes dancing in flight. An immortal youth came to announce that the peaches of immortality were bearing fruit and the cinnabar osmanthus had just ripened. A ten-thousand-year-old golden tortoise, a thousand-year-old jade hare, and the Star of Longevity appeared together to celebrate the feast. The immortals admired the scenery and drank at the banquet, reluctant to leave. The beauty of this celestial grotto realm far surpasses the mortal world. There is no coming and going through life and death; heaven and earth share one lifespan, and the sun and moon endure together through the years.

“Stepping over the Grass”

I own only one cloth robe, and my bed is covered with a paper quilt; a gourd and a staff are all I carry when I travel. After a few cups of wine, I delight in natural ease and freedom. Who would still quarrel with you over petty grievances? Everywhere I look, people in the world are busy scrambling for fame and profit, thinking each day only of their household affairs. Only when they are buried in the earth after death do they learn what it feels like to be wrapped in soil.

“Horse-Sheltering Flower”

After the rain stops, mountain flowers bloom; when the clouds part, the Milky Way appears. I wander in quiet, secluded places, often practicing Golden Elixir cultivation before ancient grotto cliffs. I do not covet riding a fine horse, nor care for wealth, rank, or the rights and wrongs of the world. I sit alone in a thatched hut reading old books, sometimes turning through Daoist scriptures. With a zither resting on my knees, I play, and even the cranes fly over to watch.

The purple sash and golden seal, symbols of high office, are certainly splendid, and the rank is indeed exalted. Yet at the fifth watch one must hurry onto a horse and set out. How could that compare with my life among the immortals, where the sun can reach its zenith while the brushwood gate still hangs leisurely closed?

At the thatched cottage, the drum sounds at the third watch. In a dream, I wander through a land of immortals, arriving at Penghu and Langyuan, fabled mountains in the sea. White clouds blanket the ground, with no one to sweep them away. I imagine fragrant breezes circling through the quiet garden.

The immortals gather in ranks to pay homage at the Golden Hall. I too drink my fill of the immortals’ rosy-cloud wine and join their splendid feast. Suddenly, a coolness comes over me, and it is as though I see the bright moon rising above the mountain peak.

Immortal of Yellow Crane Cave (with “Driving the Lame Horse”) — Ma Danyang

All day I pull a cart of salt, forever suffering the lash and the club. I know my spirit has long been stifled and sunk low, like a sick horse. When will I finally find ease and freedom?

The Patriarch Bole, a master at recognizing fine horses and here a figure for a teacher who guides spiritual practice, arrives. When he sees me, he sighs again and again. He does everything he can to buy back my freedom. At last, this horse can put its abilities to use; I should repay my master’s kindness.

Two Poems, “No-Dream Command”

I suddenly awaken to the truth: a hundred years pass in the blink of an eye. Tears spill without end, like pearls bursting forth. Quickly release the heart’s fears of life and death. Even if fire were to burst from stone, there is no need to dwell on it, for events can change in ways no one can foresee. Even so, let the funeral rites rest on the ground for now.

The Daoist path is neither difficult nor easy. How dare we stop halfway, leaving undone what should be done? Only by applying ourselves wholeheartedly and working hard can we awaken to the Way of long life. Once we obtain the methods for cultivating longevity, we must gather in and nurture our Jing, Qi, and Shen.

Willow Tips Blue-Green

In coarse cloth and straw sandals, I roam the world, moving freely between the bustling human realm and the cloud-veiled lands of the immortals. I live day by day as circumstances allow, with a livelihood of my own: the Book of Changes and the True Classic of Southern Florescence—another name for the Zhuangzi—hang from my staff. When visitors ask about the world of dust, I say nothing, but point to the falling blossoms. Cultivate a heart as free as water and clouds, and wherever you go, that place is home.

A Sprig of Plum

In a loose-necked robe of coarse cloth, I wear my sash with ease and let my sleeves drift in the breeze. Water and clouds are my companions; I live like a fisherman or woodcutter. Make the most of tonight, and do not ask what tomorrow will bring.

In my hand is a nine-knotted staff carved as a blue dragon; across my shoulder hang several scrolls of immortal scriptures, and at my waist is a small gourd for elixirs or cultivation supplies. I walk with ease, and I sit with ease.

Drunken Peach Spring

There is originally no need to speak, and nothing to say. The mind is clear and still, lucid and profound. When lucidity and profundity abide in stillness, Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and the original Shen (spirit) can become complete. Turn inward and contemplate the subtle principle. Within the subtle lies something more wondrous; within the wondrous, another subtle principle is contained. It has no fixed form, so do not cling to gathering it into any particular image. It moves back and forth, beyond anyone’s power to obstruct, like a fresh breeze and bright moon freely present before us.

“Lady Daoist” (Nü Guanzi) — Ma Danyang

Human life is impermanent, like clouds rising in the mountains after rain, gone in the blink of an eye. Youth has already passed; a hundred years of life are like a dream, seeming to dissolve into nothingness. Forget sensual desire and cut off thoughts of attachment. Keep the unruly mind and desires firmly in check—“the mind’s horse and heart’s monkey” is a phrase describing thoughts that are hard to control—and practice diligently and steadily, with close attention. The destination lies just before you, beyond anyone’s power to obstruct, like a fresh breeze and bright moon freely present before us.

“Lady Daoist” (Nü Guanzi) — Ma Danyang

Human life is impermanent, like clouds rising in the mountains after rain, gone in the blink of an eye. Youth has already passed; a hundred years of life are like a dream, seeming to dissolve into nothingness. Forget sensual desire and cut off thoughts of attachment. Keep the unruly mind and desires firmly in check, and continue your practice with steady, close attention. There is no assurance that another breath will follow the one you are drawing now, so cherish this life and cultivate the truth. Practice earnestly, and you can be confident of attaining immortality. Disciples, do not doubt this: if there is even the slightest falsehood or mistake, Ma Feng is willing to be punished and become a ghost on Yin Mountain. In practice, remain alert at all times and do not be misled; survey the heavens and earth in all ten directions. When your accumulated practice is complete, a Golden Boy will come to welcome you.

“Jade Branches Intertwined” (Yu Jiao Zhi)

I have repeatedly urged you: open your heart and do not grow slack. You may walk through every street and alley, tea shop and wine house; go from door to door, greeting people and offering guidance. In this way, you can bring your thoughts under control and create opportunities for practice. Set your resolve and do not turn back or change your mind; fulfill your aspiration in this life. Harmonize spirit and breath, and bring the rising and descending of Yin-Yang into balance. As the Dragon and Tiger contend—a metaphor in Neidan (internal alchemy) for the meeting of Yin-Yang and Jing and Qi—golden light bursts forth. Work around the Dantian (energy center in the lower abdomen), and you will see the True Person appear.

“Joy in Returning to Court” (Gui Chao Huan)

When heaven and earth first separated, where did life find a place to dwell? Before your parents were born, what was that original source called, and what character named it? You must understand this question clearly. Set the Dragon and Tiger contending and make the golden light burst forth; work around the Dantian, and you will see the True Person appear.

When Heaven and Earth first parted, where did I dwell? Before my parents were born, what was my name? I must understand this question and investigate its underlying principle; how could I spare a thought for arguing over right and wrong? This principle must be taught with care, without the slightest error, and the events of the past must be traced to their source. People come and go, ceaselessly rushing about, yet remain confused, not knowing when they will receive guidance. Suddenly, the True Spirit—the innate spiritual nature within a person—appears before me. Recognize this formless thing, and you can see the wonder of its manifestation. Gaze upon it with a clear mind and focused spirit: it is dignified and radiant, its light shining forth, making it easy to turn the gaze inward. When you see it, seek only the subtle principle within. From the depths of mystery shines a perfect radiance, revealing five colors; returning to one’s original nature is an auspicious sign.

“Six Modes,” Wang Chongyang

To become truly calm and still is for the Dragon and Tiger to unite, a symbol of Yin-Yang harmony in internal alchemy. When the mind is clear and settled, the Infant and the Maiden—terms in internal alchemy symbolizing the body’s Yin and Yang essences and energies—naturally rise. Stillness and Wuwei (non-action) are the foundation of refining and cultivating the Elixir; purification and fasting bring body and mind into balance. Remain aware at every hour of the day, harmonizing the Qi and spirit within: this is the work of cultivation in the Jade Furnace. Why pore over passages and quotations, or rummage through incidental details? Why cling to the words of alchemical texts? To claim a profound name while remaining idle and lax will bring no result. Dispel drowsiness, speak less of idle things, and let go of desire; do not overindulge in food. Keep worldly concerns and calculations to a minimum, and remain detached in social dealings. Break through scattered thoughts, and gradually reach a state of profound clarity and penetration.

“He Xinliang,” Chen Yizhi

Fill your cup and drink with abandon. Consider human life: eight or nine things out of ten do not go as we wish. The force that transforms all things is like a mischievous child, making sport of people; often, just when events reach their end, they turn around again. Why spend all your time rushing about in the human world? There are plenty of worthy and celebrated people in the world.

“Red Peony,” Wang Tongsou

Few people live to seventy, even though a human life may span a hundred years. Subtract ten years of childhood and another ten of decline and confusion, and only fifty years remain in which one is truly alert and vigorous. Half of those are then taken up by sleep. Can the remaining twenty-five years really be free of troubles? Think it over: better to seek pleasure while there is still time. When you find good wine, invite your friends to gather and laugh with abandon; if you end up drunk, let it be. Drink your fill, drink your fill—life is like dew on fragrant grass, vanishing in an instant. Fortunately, wine has lately been as plentiful as a river; we can gather to sing and laugh, leaving behind a tale to be remembered for ages.

“Xuanjing Santai Transforms into Danyang,” Wang Chongyang

The body has its limits, yet troubles are like a burning house without end. Time passes in an instant, hastening our decline into old age. Think of life as a candle flame swaying in the wind: busy from morning till night, rushing about by day and unable to rest easy at night. Some foolish, deluded people do nothing but laugh and amuse themselves.

“Proclaiming the Three Terraces of Serenity: Transforming King Danyang” — Wang Chongyang

The body has its limits, yet troubles are like a burning house without end. Time passes in an instant, hastening our decline into old age. Life is like a candle flame swaying in the wind: busy from morning till night, rushing about by day and uneasy with worry at night. Some foolish, deluded people brood over countless things, burdened by household affairs and trapped so deeply they cannot free themselves. They cherish their children and love their wives, yet become entangled as if by sworn enemies, bound in body and mind. If they can suddenly awaken and turn back to cultivate the Dao, they should cut through the bonds of fame and profit, topple the high mountain of layered ties of affection, and leap from the bitter sea of desire. Then they can live at ease, free from worldly cares, taking joy in the Dao.

All one needs is half a sheet of paper and a qin: sleep peacefully on a couch, firmly tether the monkey mind and galloping thoughts, and do not let the mind and spirit become disturbed. Wield the Wisdom Sword, which symbolizes cutting away deluded thoughts and afflictions, and sever every demonic obstacle; the mind and spirit will then naturally grow calm. The two Qi of Yin and Yang unite, the Dragon and Tiger race in response, and the Golden Crow, symbolizing Yang Qi, meets the Jade Hare, symbolizing Yin Qi. In the Jade Furnace and Golden Cauldron, refine and nourish cinnabar, cultivate the Yang Spirit, and ultimately send the spirit forth to ascend to Jade Capital, the celestial realm of Daoist legend. This path of cultivation is pure and noble; when one meets a kindred spirit, one feels grateful. To perfect both sides of cultivation is worth a thousand pieces of gold.

“Taichang Yin” — Perfected Tan

Neither monk nor layperson, nor an immortal in the ordinary sense. He lives in two or three thatched huts, with white stones and clear springs beside him. Who would still ask where the Peach Blossom Spring grotto-heaven, the dwelling place of recluses, might be?

A burner of precious incense, whose coils trace the forms of seal characters, and a cup of spring snow, a drink as white as spring snow, nourish the pure sound. To perfect both sides of cultivation is worth a thousand pieces of gold.

“Taichang Yin” — Perfected Tan

Neither monk nor layperson, nor an immortal in the ordinary sense. He lives in two or three thatched huts, with white stones and clear springs beside him. Who would still ask where the Peach Blossom Spring grotto-heaven might be?

A burner of precious incense and a cup of spring snow nourish the Three Fields, the three sites of internal cultivation, usually the upper, middle, and lower Dantian. In leisure, he reads and reflects on “The Chapter on the Valley Spirit,” a text on Daoist cultivation. Before he knows it, the moon shining through the pine branches has grown full.

Part Two

Time flies past and never stops. Spring gives way, and autumn arrives. Smooth the furrows from your brow; for now, sing along with the songs of immortals and dispel your sorrow.

A hundred years of life are brief. Why contend for fame and profit and invite needless troubles? Do not crave them so desperately. As long as you can get by, accept what fate brings and be content.

Part Three

A century’s achievements, seen in retrospect, are like images reflected in a mirror. One laments that the road of life has been difficult since ancient times. As the weather shifts between wind and rain, youthful features gradually change. Who, after all, would care about white temples like those of Anren, the courtesy name of Pan Yue?

Fame and reputation rise so high they seem to stir heaven and earth, their force reaching into the clouds. Then a brief dream ends, and one sees that wealth and honor are as illusory as the dream of Huai’an. Turning back toward the green mountains, one sees only a solitary cloud, at ease and free.

“Green Jade Case”

The great Dao of Wuwei (non-action, following nature without forcing things) is hard for people to understand, simply because their cultivation has not yet gone far enough. When understanding suddenly dawns, gather the mind and turn inward to observe yourself, keeping watch over yourself at all times. In the Three Fields (the upper, middle, and lower Dantian) and the Six Palaces (important Qi chambers within the body), continually sweep away distracting thoughts and ingrained habits like dust and grime. When every attachment has been severed, the heart-mind becomes clear and tranquil; a spark of empty, numinous awareness appears of its own accord. Recognize the quiet and still Way of the Mysterious Origin, and the body’s hundred gates (the various inner passages and openings) will flow freely, while the nature of the mind becomes whole and clear. Cultivation remains incomplete only because the work has not yet gone far enough. When understanding suddenly dawns, turn inward often and continually sweep away dust and grime in the Three Fields and Six Palaces. Sever every attachment, and the heart-mind will become clear; a spark of luminous awareness will appear of its own accord. Recognize the quiet and still Way of the Mysterious Origin, let the hundred gates flow freely and the nature of the mind become whole and clear, and you can transcend the world of dust and wander at ease in the immortal realms.

“Number Twenty-Eight” (Qiu Changchun)

Ever since leaving Chang’an and heading east, I have lived to the west at the temple by Panxi. Gradually I drew near the Southern Mountain, where I saw clouds deep, distant, and still. The thatched hut is cool and plain, and the courtyard open and carefree; no official has ever come here. Late at night, the travelers on the road have all fallen quiet when suddenly a cuckoo cries before the cliffs. Its plaintive call carries from the pine branches until daybreak. Again and again it urges, “Better to return home,” but cultivation has not yet gone far enough.

“Sacred Court”

I have just fallen asleep in the thatched hall. The attendant in blue has closed the door, and the red-crowned bird has settled back in its nest. Cradling my jade-inlaid zither, I lie with my head on a high pillow, traveling in a dream through the immortal realms. I plan to visit the Three Mao—the three immortals of Daoist legend, also associated with their mountain abode—when I have some free time.

Waking at midnight, I hear a sound like jade pendants striking together. It is only the wind stirring the bamboo. Beyond the sparse woods, I watch a cloud drift away; just then, the moon rises above the pine tops.

“Command to Return the Pendant”

All my life I have been muddled and ignorant, unable to understand the ways of the world. My thoughts turn to the immortal realms, and I plan to visit the Three Mao when I have some free time.

Waking at midnight, I hear a sound like jade pendants striking together. It is only the wind stirring the bamboo. Beyond the sparse woods, I watch the clouds drift away; the moon is rising above the pine tops.

“Command to Return the Pendant”

All my life I have been muddled, ignorant of the ways of the world; even when eating and drinking tea, I cannot tell whether I am hungry or full. When I sit down, it is as if I have taken root; when I stand, I am like a stubborn stone blocking the road. Let others laugh and say I am putting on airs. I know nothing of writing or the arts, so how could I understand the teachings of the classics? As for cultivation, I have nothing to argue about. Dust covers my face, my hair and beard are unkempt, and I wear a coarse monastic robe. I seek only to live without aging, enduring the long eons without decline.

To understand the Returned Elixir, the essence formed through Neidan cultivation, you must recognize your own source. There is no need to ask where you first came from, or to cling to the question of who gave you physical form. The human spirit is originally condensed from “lead.” Since you have taken human form, you should understand the Dragon and Tiger within yourself—the two Yin-Yang forces in Neidan cultivation—and learn to gather and harmonize them. Refine the Golden Elixir into a single pill and swallow it, and you can escape the suffering of reincarnation.

Let go of everything, and regard even familiar circumstances with detachment. Find a moment of quiet amid the bustle and clamor; gather your mind back and dwell on nothing. Whether active or still, remain free of constraint. The entire realm of reality cannot bind you to any particular place. Then you can roam freely beyond the world of dust, your nature and mind as clear and pure as a crystal sphere.

If a stubborn attachment remains in your heart, you will be drawn along like a flying bird, trapped in delusions that have lasted for thousands of years and unable to return. Fortunately, you met a wise teacher and came to understand the truth, and were willing to stop following familiar old habits. You want to go east, but I insist on going west. Now that I have awakened, I follow my teacher’s guidance. You are the cause of reincarnation through countless kalpas; whom else can you blame for the many demonic obstacles?

Xiao Zhang, you too should see through the splendor of this fleeting world. Quickly recognize your original true face and firmly gather in your scattered thoughts. How many days are there in a hundred-year life? You cannot let them pass in vain. Remember your teacher’s instruction: you were once an immortal of the Penglai realm, but became stranded among humans because you longed for the mortal world. Rouse yourself at once, cultivate body and mind, and return to the realm where the perfected immortals gather. Do not delay, and do not let worldly feelings hold you back. Think carefully: even if you amassed a house full of gold and jade, what would come of it in the end? Everything will eventually change and disappear.

I mock those who remain stubbornly deluded. They refuse to believe that the world is out of joint and life is difficult, and devote themselves wholeheartedly to chasing fame and profit. Now, fallen on hard times yet free, I wander from place to place, often relying on various skills to earn a living, cultivate the Dao, and provide for myself. When one knows how to adapt to change, body and mind can find peace and rest.

I lean on a goosefoot staff and carry a gourd of medicine, wearing a rain cape and bamboo hat. Even if the earth were covered in pearls, what would there be to care about? Green, lofty mountains rise all around. I have simply built a thatched hut as a dwelling where I can settle my spirit. Fortunately, there are numinous sprouts to nourish me and spring water to drink, so hunger and thirst are no concern. Alone in the deep mountains, I sit quietly and watch the scene between Heaven and Earth. From afar, the affairs of the human world are scattered like stars at the edge of the morning sky. How many years must pass before I can ride the clouds to pay court to the Lord on High?

Jade Butterfly

Seize the Red Phoenix of Jade Mountain, a symbolic image in internal alchemy, and let it drift and float alongside the spirit vessel, stirring up wave upon wave. Even if the turtle opens its mouth, raises its head, and breathes forth its stratagems, it can still draw in the vast torrents until the Northern Sea runs dry, then pour them back into West Lake in mighty waves.

The waters spread out, their surfaces rippling in patterned waves; at that moment, they seem to transform into a golden expanse. Pearly light gleams in abundance, like the moon illuminating all directions. Its radiance rises everywhere, forming swirling clouds of rosy color. Then a round pearl gradually appears and coalesces into a precious Elixir, rising free into the sky. At last, one can ascend to the Great Luo Heaven, the highest celestial realm in Daoist lore, and remain lucid and awake for ages.

Spring of Jade Liquor

How many people truly understand the news of this cultivation? Only those who practice the Dao in the Quanzhen tradition know its subtle marvels. After great awakening, the mind becomes clear and tranquil, and one can understand its principles; one’s original true nature remains clearly manifest throughout. This is the most mysterious state.

During cultivation, the Golden Pass—the opening through which Qi moves in internal practice—opens, while the Jade Portal, another such opening, closes. The breath flows back and forth, passing through the gateways and circulating through the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers). The practitioner feels the breath above and below harmonize and flow through, as though silver snow were falling. The Yellow Sprout, Jing (essence) symbolizing the first stirrings of vitality in Neidan (internal alchemy), grows as though numinous mushrooms and immortal herbs were springing up across the land. The Crimson Babe, a symbol in internal alchemy of the refined essences of Yin and Yang, dances along with it. This current of Qi travels and guides, sounding like the roar of a dragon and the cry of a tiger.

The Qi circulates and harmonizes within the body, bringing Water and Fire—often symbols for the body’s Yin and Yang energies—to mingle and reverse, like a tortoise and serpent locked in combat. By regulating Water and Fire and adjusting the firing times, one refines the Elixir in the furnace and cauldron, a symbolic term in internal alchemy, until it finally congeals into a radiant pearl. The Jade Emperor, moved by this great service, issues an edict summoning the practitioner, while auspicious clouds gather and surround them. Then one may ride securely upon a blue luan bird and return to the immortal isle of Penglai.

Refining the Cinnabar Elixir (Lang Tao Sha), by Ma Danyang

The Dao is cultivated through steadfast resolve and careful guarding of the Dantian. Even out the breath, making it long, fine, and unbroken. Throughout all twelve double-hours of the day, remain constantly aware and do not let worldly entanglements weigh you down.

The key to cultivation is to avoid the clamor and dwell in peace and quiet. Some secrets must be understood; others are passed on silently, heart to heart. When Shen (spirit) and Qi have become radiant and refined, the Elixir practice is complete, and one’s cultivated work is accomplished. Then one may depart and pay audience to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.

Dian Jiang Chun · Perfected Huan

A tiny little gourd, born with an unusual shape and a small body. It has an opening, yet is not easy to open. If one can recognize the principles of Heaven and Earth it represents, who could truly understand them? Hung from the waist, it is something the Daoist especially cherishes, valued more than the golden fish pouch, an ornament worn by officials in ancient times as a sign of rank.

The Second

How pitiful that people rush about in toil, chasing fame and profit. When will they ever stop? Only at life’s end, when their eyes fall shut, do they finally come to regret it. Even their children and grandchildren cannot bear all this on their behalf. Thinking of it brings tears; only after tasting this bitterness does one know the heart’s grief, as though it were breaking apart.

Last night, hazy with drink, I seemed to ride a red phoenix up into the sky, flying across the four directions to the accompaniment of music and song. In a moment of awakening, I seemed to enter Peach Blossom Grotto, the fabled realm of immortals. Facing a deep, secluded stream, I leisurely turned a luminous pearl in my hands. At dawn, a sudden stir came—a gust of wind—and startled me from this dream of wandering among immortals.

The Remaining Songs of the Calling Crane, Volume Four

This piece is likely a sanqu song in the double mode. The following two lyrics also appear in The Collection from Pan Creek; their original tune title is “Command to Return the Pendant.” This lyric also appears in The Collection from Pan Creek, under its original tune title, “Incense Carried Along the Path.” The lyric was originally unsigned; The Complete Tang Poems attributes it to Lü Yan. Something may be missing after this line. Only half of this lyric survives. This lyric also appears in The Collection from Pan Creek, under the alternate tune title “Guest Above the Green Lotus Pool.” This lyric also appears in Zhang Jixian’s Lyrics from the Abode of Empty Tranquility.

The Remaining Songs of the Calling Crane, Volume Five

Compiled by Peng Zhizhong, Daoist of Immortal Wandering Mountain

Flowers Along the Road · Zhongli of the Rock

Human beings are made up of the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and there is no enduring, unchanging “self.” The Five Aggregates—form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness—are likewise empty in their nature. So do not strive to prevail over others or cling to distinctions between self and other. In the end, high and low, wise and foolish, are all like dreams. A hundred years of reunion with family and loved ones is like a flash of red light in a lightning strike: gone in an instant. Let go of attachments early and guard your body and mind.

I urge you to practice diligently and keep watch over the master within, your original mind. You came into the world with nothing and will leave with nothing. Life is limited, but desire has no end. Better to live contentedly within your station, allowing a glimmer of spiritual light to appear of its own accord, with a mind as clear and free as the bright moon and a fresh breeze.

Few people since ancient times have lived to the age of seventy. It is lamentable that so many are confused and bewildered, unaware that they should cultivate themselves and practice the Dao. Human life is brief; success and failure, right and wrong, pass in the blink of an eye. Even if one achieves unmatched fame and merit, in the end one merely leaves behind karmic consequences—the effects of one’s actions—to follow oneself. Fleeting pleasures of wine and flowers, sensual delights, and wealth deceive people: they think they have gained an advantage, though in truth the gains and losses are hard to predict. One’s appearance quietly grows old, while Jing, Qi, and Shen gradually diminish. Yin grows strong and Yang weak, illness takes hold, and when life reaches its end, whom can one blame?

Autumn at Qujiang

What is the Dao? Since ancient times, people have often sought it in the wrong direction. In truth, everyone has the foundation of the Dao; no one lacks it. It is only when a thought arises that we stray from the path. Clinging to external things gives rise to distress. If we could let go of every attachment, what would there be about the Dao that is so profound or difficult to understand? Live according to your circumstances and follow what comes; then investigate your original nature, and this point should become clear. Even beside a cold hearth, let the Dragon and Tiger—the Yin and Yang energies that work together in Daoist Neidan practice—blend and respond in harmony within your heart. The Dao is right before you; there is no need to seek it outside. Whether called an immortal or a Buddha, one may realize it through the awakening they share.

Song of the Plum Blossom Prelude — Qiu Changchun

Walking, I feel no weariness; sitting, I feel no fatigue. When I wish to walk, I walk; when I wish to sit, I sit, freely arranging things as I please. The morning breeze is gentle, and the evening sky is clear. The carefree Great Dao lies across the open plains above and below the South Creek. East of the creek, I am fortunate to meet a friend who has forgotten all formality, someone whose heart understands mine. Beneath the bright moon, we pour wine again and again, letting the night pass. The cup is set down, yet the moonlight remains clear. I open my robe, let my hair fall loose, and sing a Daoist song with joyful abandon.

Rising Flower — Perfected Wu

Gather in the monkey mind, and recognize how swiftly time passes in this dusty world: a hundred years of life vanish in an instant. Begin cultivating at once, returning to the true spirit that was yours from the beginning. Starting today, bring your body and mind to rest in their proper place. Household life is full of entanglements; first, you must free yourself from them. Even living alone, learn to be at ease with yourself. Keep the heart quiet, unmoved by external things; relinquish all desires for fame and profit, wealth, sensual pleasures, and wine.

Cut off every worldly desire, even going so far as to leave behind parents, spouse, children, and kin. Only then can you roam freely and dwell in quiet ease, recognizing the precious inner truth likened to gold and jade. A flower with jade-like petals blooms within the heart, releasing its fragrance until it fills the air. Strange radiances gather, auspicious light shines brilliantly, and at last a realm like celestial music takes shape.

Toad Palace Step — Lü Dongbin

Kan, Li, Zhen, and Dui—the four trigrams among the Eight Trigrams—correspond with Zi and Wu, the Yin-Yang times. One must learn to seek out one’s own ancestral source: the foundation of inner cultivation. When the Qi stirs like thunder underground, shaking the mountain peaks as if rain were falling, nourish it gradually until the Yellow Sprout, the newly emerging Jing and Qi of internal alchemy, breaks through the soil. Capture the Golden Jing, the Jing and Qi gathered through cultivation, and seal it firmly. Then refine the Qi of Jia and Geng to subdue the Dragon and Tiger, symbols of the Yin and Yang energies within the body. If anyone asks who transmitted this method, simply say it was passed down by the ancestral source in one’s own household. When the Qi stirs like thunder underground, shaking the mountain peaks as if rain were falling, nourish it gradually until the Yellow Sprout breaks through the soil. Seal the Golden Jing firmly, refine the Qi of Jia and Geng, and subdue the Dragon and Tiger. If anyone asks who transmitted it, say that the master’s surname is Lü.

“Twin Swallows” — Qiu Changchun (Qiu Chuji)

Spring mists drift softly; the green mountains are lovely, and clouds stream chaotically across the sky. The flowers shine with brilliant color, the rocks glisten with moisture, and the Immortal Realm, the blessed dwelling place of immortals, reveals a scene of strange and exquisite beauty. Open the windows and climb to a high place: the view stretches tens of thousands of feet before you. Looking far into the distance against the wind, both eyes and ears are refreshed. After enduring many tribulations and entanglements with the mundane world, the mind is now open and clear, as though no distinction remains between immortals and mortals, only the spacious, tranquil freedom of the world before one. How delightful this carefree life is: cast off the shackles, and leave behind the roots of past karma and debts of grievance. With the clear breeze for company, all one hears is the crystalline clarity of heavenly music. Countless wondrous and magnificent sights are set out before us, as if displayed for sale in a mountain hall. They are worth the treasures of a thousand chariots. Tell me, who could know how to name their price?

“Release from All Sorrow” — the Three Real Men

Since ancient times, sorrow has been plentiful and joy scarce; an age of peace and simple goodness is hard to come by. Fortunately, sages have appeared in the world to proclaim virtue and discuss the principles governing Heaven and Earth. Realized beings from the upper realm have temporarily descended among humanity to govern the myriad nations without resorting to weapons. The realm is at peace, warfare has ceased, and civil culture is promoted. The worthy are honored and virtue esteemed, bringing peace, clarity, and auspicious signs. How should we repay Heaven’s grace? We should cherish this fine age and not drift along in negligence, letting our time pass in vain. First, esteem frugality and maintain the basic necessities of life; do not covet fame or profit. Seek profound principles through the Mystery Gate of Daoism, give up cravings, and keep body and mind calm and harmonious. Above all, release from the heart every attachment to things; only then can one escape the entanglements of the human world.

“Magnolia Slow”

Originally, one is clear and light, pure and wondrous, bright and unclouded, free and at ease, roaming alone with Heaven and Earth. But once born into a mortal body, one is hemmed in by the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), the five basic elements that make up all things, and bound by the Four Great Elements, the four constituents of the body. Year after year, people remain deluded, mistaking illusory things such as sights and sounds for reality, and so linger in the dusty world for a long time. The original immortal homeland, the realm of the Dao, seems within arm’s reach, yet also as distant as the span between Heaven and Earth.

The way back to one’s root and original state truly lies within one’s own heart. If you quietly focus your thoughts and seek without ceasing, you will eventually gain something. When the void suddenly shatters, the karmic obstacles of future lives will be dispelled all at once. Then, shaking out your robes, you may set off for Penglai and Langyuan, with no need to worry that the Weak Waters—the legendary waters encircling the immortal realms, impossible to cross without a boat—will bar your way.

Taking Joy in Oneself II

When drunk, I lean against the green hills. When sober, if the mood takes me, I play the jade zither, performing “The Cranes Cry in the Nine Marshes,” an image of cranes calling from deep wetlands. The water is clear, the mountains close at hand, and my mind is spacious and at ease; I take joy in myself. It is as though I had returned to Langyuan and climbed the immortal isle of Penglai. For now, I dwell in the human world, roaming with the transformations of Creation through the boundless void, and tending body and mind until form and spirit attain a subtle harmony.

Shangpingxi

The two words “impermanence” are the hardest to guard against. When it arrives, there is nowhere to hide. It makes no distinction between young and old, rich and poor, wise and foolish; nor does it spare one’s wife and children or one’s parents, from whom it is so hard to part.

After death, the body turns to earth, the blood flows away with water, the breath disperses with the wind, and the hun and po souls drift away. Reflecting on this closely, how could one not feel sorrow? Do not become lost in the world of desire and distress. Begin cultivating early, and seek ascent to the heavens. Once you have accumulated three thousand meritorious deeds, you can go to Penglai and dwell forever in the immortal homeland.

Part Two

Invite the clear breeze, welcome the bright moon, and come and go freely. Then there will be fewer pointless disputes and quarrels. Live close to mountains and waters, with pines and bamboo growing nearby, and plant some plum trees as well. Everyday life in a small courtyard need not be complicated: poems, wine, zither, and chess are enough.

With no attachments, no worries, and no partings, once you have transformed that foolish and deluded disposition, there is no need to bustle about for petty gains and losses, as small as a fly’s head or a snail’s horn. What is there in such gains and losses worth pursuing, or any need to act for? Better to live simply in a small courtyard, with poems, wine, zither, and chess for company.

Do not let yourself be trapped by attachments, or grieve over troubles and partings. The affairs of the world are ever changing, yet people often remain stubbornly deluded. What is the point of quarreling over tiny gains, as small as a fly’s head or a snail’s horn, and what can it accomplish? Better to grasp the Dao’s subtle workings early, live freely and at ease, and rest high among the clouds.

“Perching Phoenix in the Wutong Tree,” Third Song [Qiu Changchun]

The sun and moon circle round and round without pause. Spring passes and autumn comes; how many rises and declines has the world seen? From the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns onward, dynasties and worldly affairs have risen and fallen again and again over thousands of years. It has always been so. People die and are born, are born and die again—when will this cycle of change ever end? Unless one reaches a state of having no mind and no desires, resting in peace, one cannot transcend the cycle in stillness.

Second Song [Bai Yuchan]

The green leaves grow denser, the red blossoms grow fewer, and spring is nearly over. Swallows carry mud into the depths of the drooping willows. The willow fluff longs to settle, but the wind will not cease; the cuckoo cries again and again, while mountain ranges stretch on without end. I lean on a bamboo staff and wear straw sandals, with no fixed place to go. I love mountains, forests, and springs, so I let my steps follow the road ahead. How many feelings rise again in my heart? Across the river plain, who can claim the wind and moon as their own?

Third Song [Qiu Changchun]

The sun sinks in the west, facing the Jade Emperor, the Heavenly Emperor revered in Daoism. Looking east, the silver moon hangs high, its clear light spreading over the green cassia trees. We gather by degrees, recite the Nanhua Jing—the Daoist honorific for the Zhuangzi—and hold a gathering to admire chrysanthemums. We fill our cups and drink freely until pleasantly drunk. I lie asleep amid Zhongnan Mountain’s green shadows: the mountain hues are bright and lofty, and no clouds veil the night sky. The crows fall silent, the breeze grows soft and faint; moonlight shines like daylight, and the sky is clear as water.

Fourth Song

I live alone among steep mountain crags, in a place of quietude. I carve a cave from the rock and make my home there, holding fast to the Dao and no longer clinging to knowledge and distinctions. Daoist companions, please do not take offense when you see me living this way. I am content with poverty, keep to simplicity, and ask no one for support.

Fourth Song

I live alone among steep mountain crags, in a place of quietude. I carve a cave from the rock and make my home there, holding fast to the Dao and no longer clinging to knowledge and distinctions. Daoist companions, please do not take offense when you see me living this way. I am content with poverty, keep to simplicity, and ask no one for support. Wealth, rank, and fame are not worth relying on. The more one gains, the more disputes and judgments follow; as they accumulate, they often bring success and failure, gain and loss. Rich food and fine wine cannot be relied on for long. Plain food, quietude, and few desires can instead bring lasting ease and security.

Fifth Song

To stop once you have gained enough is the best course. Win a life of freedom and ease; do not let body and mind become enslaved. How many clever and outstanding people toil all day, wasting the aspirations of a lifetime? The world’s changes have no fixed pattern: yesterday we sang and drank in delight, today sorrow comes again. We do not even know what tomorrow will bring, so why exhaust ourselves over trivial matters?

Sixth

Looking back on the past today, I finally understand that the road ahead is long and difficult. My good fortune cannot endure, and Heaven offers no help. I am on the verge of departing in haste, yet can find no way out. Now I understand that I am little more than a walking skeleton. My soul drifts uncertainly, so for the time being I will settle at Panxi, a place name. I am grateful to the prominent families among the neighbors, who think of me often and regularly look after me.

“Songzi” (Incense Offering)

A fly flies into a basin of foul, fishy water. It catches sight of something sweet and flies straight into the basin, forgetting to escape. Its feet get stuck, then its wings, and in the end it loses its life. I cannot help but sigh: why have you still not awakened? Bitterness lies hidden within sweetness, and disaster may arise amid good fortune. Once you have tasted it, you should withdraw in time. How can you be so foolish and senseless, just like a great fly?

“Yu Meiren” (The Beautiful Lady Yu)

How much water Wang Chongyang drank, and so he came to understand the wondrous principles of the mysterious Dao. He wore a monk’s robe sewn from coarse hemp and a blue cloth headscarf. His appearance was plain, yet his spirit was truly fine. There was no need to stand before a mirror and look himself over: he already understood all things in his heart. To recognize oneself within a dream is to be free and at ease, and to have reached the other shore.

“Zhenpingzi” (Screen by the Pillow)

I have traveled through famous mountains and visited their cliffs and peaks. What use is there in climbing steep slopes and scaling lofty ridges, exhausting the mind and body? The Dao is within oneself, yet the mind is often drawn away by external things. The two become entangled and obscure one another, but in the end one does not lose one’s original true nature.

By day we traveled together, and at night we lay down on the same bed. At dawn we still followed one another, traveling and sitting side by side. Suddenly, at last, I recognized him clearly: it was none other than “Big Brother,” a name for the Dao or one’s original true nature.

Clasp your hands firmly (curl the thumbs into the palms and fold the other four fingers over them), dress warmly, and wait for the right moment as Water and Fire—the complementary Yin-Yang energies of internal cultivation, Kan and Li—repeatedly mingle. Ten thousand rays of rosy light rise from the Sea Bottom and pass through the Three Passes, the three bodily gateways through which Qi flows in cultivation. Immortal music plays without pause; drink often of the elixir wine, a metaphor for the sweet, refined fruits of internal cultivation. In an instant, the wondrous medicine is refined, and the Nine-Turn Golden Elixir, formed through repeated refining and nourishing, is complete.

“Oriole Welcomes Spring” · Qiu Changchun (Qiu Chuji)

To transcend the cycle of birth and death, one must begin at the beginning and thoroughly wear away every old habit. Desire and attachment bind one layer upon layer. The body and mind endure countless trials until the heart is forged, steadfast as iron. Let go of the Six Spirits, a general term for the workings of mental awareness, and allow the mind and spirit to grow calm and easeful, firm and unmoving. The Three Corpses, Daoist spirits said to dwell in the body and urge people toward wrongdoing, are thereby subdued. Cultivation requires resolve and decisiveness, along with a mind as open as emptiness, free from attachment to distinctions.

Unlock the gateways of cultivation, and you can escape constraint. Only by meeting an accomplished master can you hear the subtle essentials passed down in person. At once, it is as though a clear, numinous breeze scatters demonic obstacles; you, too, become like a wooden carving or clay figure, unmoved by external things. Having obtained the pearl of one’s nature and seen through the Heavenly Treasure—the precious inborn spirit, or inner treasure—you can look beyond the changing scenes of the world, such as spring blossoms and autumn moons. With a mind like emptiness, free of attachment to distinctions, even ghosts and spirits cannot summon or command you; only immortals can guide and lead you onward.

Part Two

Turn away from the world’s defilements and set your heart on the joy of quiet and stillness, keeping purity for company. Hang up the precious sword and let its cold light shine. Settle the troops and generals, and overcome the disturbances brought by the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). Gather the numinous subtlety of Dongxuan and Lingbao, names for Daoist scriptural and cultivation traditions, and leap beyond the constraints of forms shaped by Yin-Yang. Once the Great Elixir is complete, you are as though riding the sun and moon and stroking the stars, free and transcendent.

Your gifts are outstanding, beyond the sequence of time. You can respond to all things as they arise and manifest spiritual powers. Even at a gate as solid as an iron plate, you can pass through with ease by means as subtle as a golden needle and jade thread. Bring forth brocade qilin and lions, and rouse the birds of the waters and beasts of the mountains. Turn back at once and come to where azure clouds gather; there, in the clear light of day, lie peacefully at rest.

Part Three

Stop searching everywhere for mysteries. I will lay out the essentials of practice plainly: overcome drowsiness, resist the demons of the mind, forget emotional attachments, and cut off distracting thoughts. This is the true path taught by sages and worthies. Eat and drink in moderation, dispel doubt, and practice diligently each day, remaining mindful and attentive to the movements of your thoughts. Do not lose your way. When sleep no longer troubles you and your mind is free of dullness, it will truly accord with the Great Dao.

There is also a subtle and harmonious state: through refining Qi, one brings Shen and Qi to fullness, and a vision of golden light protecting the body arises naturally. The Five Qi gather at the origin, as the Qi of the five organs converges in the original spirit; the Three Flowers gather at the crown, as Jing, Qi, and Shen coalesce at the top of the head; and Water and Fire reverse their course, cultivating body and mind through the mutual aid of Yin-Yang Water and Fire. The Qi of the Nine Yangs condenses into the Returned Elixir, the vital essence formed through Neidan practice, whose radiance shines through the spirit platform of the heart and mind and out in all eight directions. When practice and attainment are complete, one can roam freely among the Three Isles, the fabled immortal mountains in the sea, along the path to long life.

To regulate the true breath, one must trace it to its source and contemplate the true foundation of life before birth. Qi is connected to the heart and mind, while Shen is governed by Qi; when the mind stirs, Shen and Qi scatter. When the mind is calm, they gather together like a child and mother embracing. Once intention is settled, the true fluid—the subtle, refined saliva produced through internal cultivation—forms on its own.

Do not misunderstand the inner regulation of breath described here. It is neither contrived breathing nor a failure to understand the fetal origin: the undivided initial state of body and mind in Neidan practice. Shen and Qi should be brought into harmony, responding to each other like a spiritual tortoise and serpent at play. Following the Daoist cultivation tradition, one gathers the mind and spirit, turns inward to observe and illuminate, and lets the breath return naturally to its root. A clear, pure Qi suddenly courses through body and mind; in an instant, Water and Fire blend and harmonize. Understand this principle, and the state of enduring reality is close at hand—rare as the Buddha who, it is said, emerged into the world only after passing through three lifetimes.

Turn your gaze back from the dusty world, and you can cast off its constraints and attain freedom. Coarse cloth robes, a scholar’s cap, a mottled bamboo staff, and a scorched-tail zither: these are the means by which to withdraw from the world. If anyone asks why you live in seclusion, point toward the verdant pines and trailing vines. Amid the green mists, the monkeys and cranes of Dongting keep you company; they are all kindred spirits.

Such a life is precious in its great tranquility. Rest contentedly with the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, and place no value on the high rank of a noble lord. Wear clothes suited to mountain paths and straw sandals; put on a rain cape in the mist and drizzle, and play the flute beneath the moon. There is a flavor to this life all its own. How can one come to know these principles? Since ancient times, they have been the essentials of immortal cultivation. Fulfill your aspirations, and let the seas change to fields and the fortunes of the world rise and fall while you pass through this fleeting life with ease.

In leisure, I set aside worldly affairs and wander unhurriedly among the fields and neighboring homes, leaning on a staff and wearing straw sandals. A rain hat shades me, and a wind scarf wraps my head. Simply dressed and slender in build, I live in seclusion beneath verdant peaks, leaving no trace of my passing. The affairs of the world stir before my eyes, yet I alone, beyond the world, grasp the workings of Heaven. Through De (Virtue), I transform people and make their customs more wholesome. I delight in quiet simplicity and following things as they naturally unfold, letting this way of life spread throughout China.

My life is graceful and untroubled, as though I were riding a cloud-borne crane back to my old home. The cries of orioles and swallows bring to mind the Wang and Xie clans, prominent families of the Eastern Jin. Clear streams run over handsome stones, and mountain cliffs lie deep in shadow. This transcendent realm surpasses by far the clamor of carts and horses rushing through the dusty world. The rights and wrongs, successes and failures of a thousand ages are only a dream among misty clouds and streamside fields, forgotten after a single doze on the pillow. Such a life is truly wonderful. Who could offer enough to buy it from me?

Seven

I leave behind fame, rank, and wealth and enter the wide, open countryside, settling there at ease. Streams wind through the land, ridges rise between the hills, and mist hangs over the villages as clouds veil their homes. I make myself at home wherever I find myself, wearing hemp cloth and eating plain, coarse food. Let others chase high office and rich rewards: how could that compare with living in a thatched hut and enjoying the mountains and forests? With an open heart, I pass the time beside the eastern hedge and recite poems and drink wine in the western garden.

The days are long and peaceful; I dwell in Wuwei (non-action). If I cannot find a kindred spirit, with whom can I discuss the subtle principles of the Dao (the Way)? A book chest, a wrapped qin, a stone stand, and an earthenware vessel are all I need in daily life; I have no other true pleasures. Who can truly appreciate and bring honor to such an elegant, unworldly manner of life? I take pleasure in my own company, with a stream beside me, moonlight among the pines, and gibbons and cranes for companions, as though nothing had changed in a thousand years.

Eight

All my cares suddenly fall away. I understand that life’s struggles are like Zhuang Zhou’s dream of becoming a butterfly: after waking, he could not tell dream from reality. I live in a humble hut with a reed door, as simply as a quail in its nest. I eat coarse fare and wear old, dust-stained clothes, content to let a hundred years pass in idleness.

There is another way to put it: profit and ambition are like the last glow of sunset on the horizon, while reputation is like fallen blossoms and drifting fluff scattered by the wind. Neither can last. How can they be relied upon? They are like a candle flame in the wind or dew on a branch, gone in the blink of an eye.

Who can understand this truth and withdraw alone into seclusion? I gather up my life among mountains and streams and lie peacefully along the Caoxi path. Caoxi, where the Sixth Chan Patriarch Huineng taught, here stands for a quiet place of cultivation. Outside the bamboo grove, a spring runs; beside the hedge, chrysanthemums bloom, with wild crabapple blossoms lending their color. The scene has its own rustic ease. I recite poems and drink wine before a courtyard ringed with five willows, smiling at the past and present of human life. I would like to entrust this state of mind to another, yet sigh at the vast, misty waters: where is the kindred spirit who would understand?

As the hundred-blend incense burns in the censer, a reverent heart rises with it. A single stick of devotional incense sends its fragrance drifting and curling through the air, gradually gathering into a canopy-like form. In this way, we repay Heaven and Earth for sheltering and sustaining all things, the sun and moon for shining upon us, the king for governing the land and bringing the people abundance and peace, and our parents for their loving care. We also give thanks above to the founding master for transmitting the sacred teachings, and to Master Danyang (Ma Danyang) for passing on the lineage of the Way. The great Quanzhen teaching delivers all beings in the mortal world; Qiu and Wang (Qiu Chuji and Wang Chuyi) endure through the ages, and in ancient Taigu—that is, Ninghai, where Quanzhen arose—we dwell in peace. The three of us are secretly attuned to the Dharma realm, the fundamental principle shared by all things. May the emperor live ten thousand years, and may the ministers serve for a thousand autumns. We ask the disciples to bow in reverence.

The Second

People in this fleeting world, it seems, are busy all day, chasing desires and adding countless troubles to their lives. The Six Dynasties and Five Hegemons, the Three Kingdoms and Seven States, once marched east and west in conquest—where is their military prowess now? Only desolation remains; in the wilderness, only wildflowers and fragrant grasses grow. How pitiful that their far-reaching plans and grand ambitions have lost all their splendor and turned to ashes. I walk the old roads of Chang’an and ask the centenarians in the villages beyond the city. The palace gardens of the Tang, the palaces of the Qin, and the walls of the Zhou are now plainly nothing but fragrant grass. I linger for a long while, gazing at the ruins. The old companions of former days have scattered, and no word passes between us. When I think that a person born in the morning may be dead by evening, only Heaven and Earth endure. Who can be sure of lasting forever?

The Third

The night clears, and the sky stretches wide. In the first chill of the season, its pale blue is pure as glass. Beneath the treeless canopy and above the towers of Chang’an, the moon shines bright and the breeze blows softly. Every kind of calamity seems to fade away quietly; thousands of households admire the moon together, sharing the same serene delight. The golden planet gleams and flashes, the Milky Way shines clear, and stars and moon illuminate one another, their radiance falling across Heaven and Earth.

In the azure sky, the breath flows like water, running freely in every direction without the slightest obstruction. It surges over mountains and beats against the sea, pouring forth radiant light that rises and shines through, revealing auspicious signs without end. From this, I came to understand the principle at work, and the “treasure vessel” within me—the body and mind, likened to a vessel that gathers and nourishes essence and Qi—became stable. The jade-like fluids of the body, too, could continually be generated. My heart longs to express what it feels, but who could truly understand? For now, I will simply be at ease, savoring the joy and losing myself in it.

Fourth

After the rain, the sky clears and opens wide; spring returns, and all things flourish. Pavilions rise and fall in graceful succession, while mountains and rivers undulate in pleasing forms, as though arranged into a richly embroidered scene. Clear springs flow among verdant grottoes, and their distant sound stretches on like a long stream of water. Again and again I gaze intently into the distance, seeing only white clouds drifting above the green peaks. Countless rare birds and strange beasts are enough to dispel the mind’s troubles, making one willing to live the austere life of a recluse. Emerald cypresses stand firm against the wind, cliffs on either side vie to rise high, and a thousand trees each display their own beauty. The Cinnabar Terrace, a high platform in the Daoist realm of immortals, glows in the sunlight and keeps company through the seasons, as though it could accompany one for a hundred years. Let cold and heat alternate, the stars move, and worldly affairs change: I can still lie at ease in the daytime.

Fifth

The Qi of Primordial Unity, the original state before Heaven and Earth were divided and before the myriad things took shape, first emerged on Mount Heng. Auspicious clouds appeared beyond Mount Kunlun. The stars shifted like flashing lightning; Yin rose and Yang descended, and a red glow appeared faintly. Immortal cranes danced and phoenixes flew; only turtles and red dragons could be seen coiled together. Refine the single mass of primordial Qi from the beginning of the vast undifferentiated state, and it is as though one were cooking the transformations of Heaven and Earth. The Way of the immortals can be achieved in an instant. The clouds part, revealing the Ten Directions and the Three Isles, the legendary mountains of the immortals in the sea. The grotto-heavens are deep, the moon bright, and the breeze gentle. By now, I have grasped the gateway to long life; body and mind are harmonized, and I enjoy a long lifespan. Let the verses be sung as they will; let the sea become mulberry fields, the rocks crumble, and the pines grow old. I remain alone with the clouds and rosy mists, beyond the realm of right and wrong, regretting only that so few understand me.

Sixth

I had already left home as a Daoist, withdrawn from the dusty world, and ceased to desire the splendors of human life. With unkempt hair and a face covered in grime, I sit quietly alone all day, wholly devoted to inner cultivation. Even in an old temple or a broken kiln, I simply let the sun sink in the west. I seek to recognize truth within emptiness, and to hold to the Dao amid what is revealed and concealed, silently regulating my breath in an unbroken flow.

With no other concerns in my heart, I take only my cloth bag and staff and follow the road wherever it leads. I wear straw sandals and a short jacket, leave my legs bare, and drape a sheepskin over myself. When I am hungry, I beg from house to house; when I have eaten my fill, I sing. Let others laugh at me as foolish and lazy—who among them could recognize my true nature?

Immortal Crane of Auspicious Signs

A hundred years of life are like a dream in which one becomes a butterfly. Looking back through past and present, how many heroes have there been? They schemed and strove to build their kingdoms and seize dominion, only to become old stories told by fishermen and woodcutters. The palaces of Qin and the halls of Han are now wastelands where foxes roam and rabbits make their nests. Think of wealth and honor: like a candle lit in the wind, they vanish in an instant; like boiling water poured over snow, they melt away at once.

Once you understand this, you see that harming your body to chase meager gains and making yourself suffer is not worthwhile. Empty fame, too, invites estrangement and conflict, like the states of Wu and Yue, forever set against each other. Better to live with whatever comes and remain content with simplicity. Close the brushwood gate and keep clear of disputes. Sit quietly by the window in the afternoon, fish beside the stream, and gaze in stillness at mountain after mountain beneath the clouds. At night, stretch the zither across your lap and play beneath the moon, as though a kindred spirit were beside you.

Fighting Quail

The wooden horse neighs into the wind, but I do not do such things. The stone man nods; even the mute can speak. The blue-eyed foreign monk—without a finger—points toward the sky. Draw a circle: it means there is nothing to transmit. Let people speak as loudly as they please, pouring words out like water from a bottle; it is all wasted effort, like grinding a brick in hopes of making a mirror. Why devise clever schemes and struggle to come out ahead? Let weapons and armor be laid to rest, and peace will prevail throughout the land. I do not practice meditation or ask about immortals; I need only grasp the subtle truth, pure as clarified butter. What I have realized is the natural way.

Without taking a single step, one can reach the Western Heaven. The wooden man takes hold, and the iron ox is drawn along; a lotus can bloom even in fire. Mystery upon mystery: the clouds part, and the moon is full. The stone maiden stops her loom, and the golden needle threads itself. Xie Sanlang, a legendary figure, grants me a fishing boat. The golden fish, clad in armor, shine all the brighter for their red scales. They stir no waves; they rise and sink as nature allows. Joy fills my heart, and I forget the fish basket—once the fish is caught, the trap is forgotten. Who would dare casually disclose these truths and realms?

Dreaming of a Visit to the Immortal Mound, by Qiu Changchun

In a dream I wandered through an immortal realm, so vividly that it seemed I had truly visited the ninefold heavens. There, the vast, clear, and luminous breath was pure and radiant; white clouds and mist drifted without end. The scene was solemn and majestic, like the assembled immortals paying homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning.

Golden youths and jade maidens descended to deliver the immortals’ decree. At that moment, the myriad sages had gathered, and brilliant light enveloped the purple-gold lotus dais. The immortals sang together, and the heavens rejoiced. Everyone was immersed in the celebration, so joyful that words failed them. They drank the immortals’ wine of rosy clouds and feasted on peaches from the Peaches of Immortality banquet, lingering in turn to wander and admire the sights. All upheld the Dao and De, possessed awe-inspiring power and free-ranging spiritual abilities, and would remain unchanged through countless kalpas.

This realm is harmonious, serene, and wondrous, lofty and boundless, existing before heaven, earth, and all things. Passing through layer upon layer of mystery is like traveling by carriage: in a daze, the spirit roams far away, circling freely across ten thousand miles. One can range in every direction, through heaven and earth, above and below; luan birds and immortal cranes carry travelers aloft without the need for a whip. At a mere movement of the mind, one can arrive wherever one wishes, without the slightest obstruction. Such power has its own source.

I have seen every palace of the Pure Capital and Crimson Towers, where immortals dwell, and wandered through such realms as Yingzhou and the Purple Mansion. Their sights defy the brush’s ability to describe them. Before the flowers of the Jade Terrace and Langyuan Garden, auspicious clouds appear from time to time, while the fragrance of a hundred blended scents drifts everywhere. There, it is spring in every season; even the long night seems never to fall, and all is at ease. This must be because the conditions for cultivation have ripened and merit is complete. Merging with the Great Void, one can endure for ages, continuing through countless kalpas without end. Even if mountains collapse and grottoes are destroyed in the human world, or the sea becomes mulberry fields, nothing can alter this.

Spring in the Brocade Hall

Here are words from the heart: See through life’s illusory dream, like the dream of Nanke. Understand that worldly splendor gathers and scatters like clouds, and honors are no more than drifting clouds. Recognize your own lineage and its roots; turn the light back and look inward, contemplating the mind at its source.

With the sword of wisdom, cut through the net of tangled passions; holding a staff of thornwood crosswise, shatter the bonds of the dusty world. Where shall we meet? At the foot of Mount Emei, where one withdraws from the world at once, keeping one’s brilliance concealed to cultivate the Dao; and beside Mount Donghua, dwelling in seclusion among mountain forests and clear springs. The Southern Ladle and Northern Dipper, the sun, moon, and stars seem hidden in one’s sleeves, a sign of the cultivator’s freedom to transcend the ordinary world.

A youthful appearance may endure for ages. Even if heaven and earth collapse, one’s true nature remains as it was.

I wave my sleeves as if even Heaven and Earth were too small; with arms outstretched, I could measure them. In my drunken delight, my heart seems to contain the four seas; with a broad smile, my belly seems to hold three rivers. I have gone many times to the Jade Pool and the Dragon Flower Assembly, grand feasts hosted by immortals and Buddhas, raising my cup among the immortals and drinking the rosy clouds. When Zhongli Quan, one of the Eight Immortals, arrives, I am always included in the Jade Emperor’s imperial banquet. At the Double Ninth Assembly, held in memory of the Daoist patriarch Chongyang, seven golden lotuses bloom together, sending forth divine light.

Part Two

I am no more than a living skeleton. What glory is there, when all is said and done? I cover my body with clothes and put on an air of spirit, and so let my years slip away. I give no thought to impermanence, with death already near, and feel no fear of Yama coming to seize my soul. I rack my brains to make a living, rushing about in hardship and toil, all for the sake of greed. Though life seems bustling and bright, all I gain is empty fame and meager profit, along with many more worries. Once my breath stops for three inches of time, I can only lie alone on a desolate mound. I sigh to think how, from ancient times to the present, so many successes and failures vanish in an instant. Time flies and cannot be held back. Better to settle into leisure, cultivate the Dao and nurture one’s nature, and let go of everything I once relied upon. Free myself from worldly toil, understand my own nature, and ride the wind until the wild clouds disperse. The rivers and mountains are still, the heavens vast; stars and moon shine over Yingzhou, the fabled land of immortals. This is true freedom and joy, needing no envy of princes and lords.

Part Three

The King of Sleep, a force that brings drowsiness and obstructs cultivation, wreaks havoc in countless ways. By day… The rivers and mountains are still, the heavens vast; stars and moon shine over Yingzhou, the fabled land of immortals. This is true freedom and joy, needing no envy of princes and lords.

Part Three

The King of Sleep wreaks havoc in countless ways. By day… and by the dead of night, there is nowhere to escape. It makes one so drowsy as if drunk, delaying cultivation and leading one all too easily toward death. The eyelids feel glued shut, the head as heavy as if a mountain pressed upon it; the whole body grows dull and weak. It also conspires with the Three Corpses and Six Thieves, inner evils and desires said in Daoism to disturb the mind and body and deplete vital energy, stealing primordial Yang, the vital essence at the root of life, in dreams. It is everywhere, as if flying across the whole realm of the Dharma, the scope of all phenomena; it takes myriad forms and throws the spirit into turmoil. Since it does evil so wantonly, I urge everyone to guard against it. Remember that life, death, and one’s future are matters of great consequence: work diligently and nourish the Three Radiances, commonly understood as Jing, Qi, and Shen. Do not be lazy or rely on others; it all depends on your own awakening. Be fierce and cultivate supernatural power, surpassing Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. When battling the King of Sleep, let your edge be strong and resolute, like a warrior charging straight at the enemy. Drive it back, and it will vanish like clouds and mist, leaving the mind clear and at peace.

“Radiant Brilliance” · Ma Danyang

Solemnly burn the written pledge and carefully make this vow: First, obey the laws of the state. Treat men and women as you would your own parents. Forever abstain from lust, possessions, wine, and sexual pleasure; relinquish wealth and status, and give up meat and strong-flavored foods. Keep yourself calm and pure, and be humble and respectful. Do not form factions or show favoritism.

Live simply, and do not seek an easy life. If hunger and cold drive you to beg in the streets, do not covet money or speak recklessly, pretending to be a sage of great wisdom. Remain vigilant and hold fast to your original resolve as you did at the beginning. When danger comes, be all the more steadfast. If I betray my resolve to cultivate the Dao, may I suffer the penalty of decapitation and eternal descent into the Yellow Springs.

Part Two

A cultivator need not live in the mountains, nor needlessly wander from place to place or crouch in secluded practice. Why cling to comings and goings, traveling far in search of the Dao? Cultivation is not confined to holding a practice and sitting in meditation, nor must one toil at farming. There is no need to labor over the study of medicines and use that knowledge to earn food and clothing.

What matters is where you place your heart. If you let nothing stain it or bind you, you can break free of every constraint. You may beg in the marketplace for leftover food. If someone asks about fame and profit, reflect on the impermanence of life and death, and let your attachment to such things fade away. Forget the mundane world and put an end to distracting thoughts; in time, you will join the ranks of the immortals.

“Sunflower” · Wang Chongyang

The High Immortal passed down a secret: the key is to break free of every constraint. You may beg in the marketplace for leftover food. If someone asks about fame and profit, reflect on the impermanence of life and death, and let your attachment to such things fade away. Forget the mundane world and put an end to distracting thoughts; in time, you will join the ranks of the immortals.

“Sunflower” · Wang Chongyang

The High Immortal passed down a secret: simply eliminate worldly desire. Keep the “mind-monkey and intention-horse”—a metaphor for unruly, unsettled thoughts—firmly tethered, and do not let them run wild. Give up stinginess and greed, disputes over right and wrong, and the foolish distinctions that cling to self and others. Restrain clever argument and thoughts that presume themselves wise; preserve simplicity and unadorned sincerity.

“The Primordial Lord rests in the Purple Palace; cinnabar congeals in the treasured cauldron.” These words describe the Primordial Lord at rest and cinnabar forming in the treasured cauldron. Do not keep asking about alchemical terms such as the dragon and tiger, lead and mercury. Amid the confusion, bring forth a bright moon. Only then can you show that you have grasped the distinctive teaching of the Gate of Xiyi, the subtle and ineffable realm of the Dao.

“Eight Sounds of Ganzhou: He Xiangu”

The original text lists the ci poem under the title “Eight Sounds of Ganzhou,” and its subject is He Xiangu. He Xiangu is one of the Eight Immortals in Daoism. “Compiled by Peng Zhizhong, a Daoist of Mount Xianyou” means that the book was compiled by Peng Zhizhong, a Daoist of Mount Xianyou.

In every quarter of the land, countless cultivators (a metaphor for the many who practice the Dao) stumble about in confusion, digging into the earth and searching the heavens, looking everywhere. The matter seems truly mysterious, yet in the end it becomes laughable nonsense. Few practice the Great Dao of Wuwei (non-action)—the path of cultivation that follows nature and avoids contrivance. Many instead fall into the crooked path of pretending to summon spirits and conjuring wonders, bringing forth only endless sorrow. They mistake a dung beetle’s pellet for a miraculous elixir. How lamentable and pitiful that so many bustle about in confusion, seeking everywhere.

Most heartbreaking of all, they do not know the true essentials and foolishly abandon their homes and livelihoods. In moments of stillness, how could they know how to gather Mercury and refine Lead (Neidan terms for harmonizing Yin-Yang within the body and refining and nourishing Jing and Qi)? Have they ever truly set aside their thoughts and imaginings? The moment they close their eyes, yin demons (distracting thoughts or visions that disturb cultivation) entangle them like dreams. The more they turn things over in their minds, the deeper their thoughts sink, until they become resentment. Who can believe that being can arise from nonbeing, and that being can also return to nonbeing—that all the myriad schools ultimately return to the source?

The Second

Cast a mass like spring snow into the Jade Furnace and refine it. The furnace burns fiercely; keep adding fuel until it glows red, yet gives off neither flame nor smoke. Guard it with care, allowing no loss or dissipation, and keep its weight as it was at the beginning. Repeat this three thousand times. Only after refining it until mind and spirit are utterly unmoving may one enter meditation. The key to preserving the true nature and nourishing life lies in this practice. Within one’s own household there is already a spring of sweet dew. Use it to water the Yellow Sprout (a Neidan term for nascent elixir Qi), so that an auspicious lotus may grow. Wait quietly for it to mature, and you will be able to stand alongside the immortals and sages.

Walking in the Snow

Those who know past and present and understand the meaning of the classics speak in torrents, as if flowers fell from the sky. But how can staring at a painted cake day after day satisfy your hunger? Nor can the shadow of bamboo sweep the dust from the courtyard.

Walking in the Snow

Those who know past and present and understand the meaning of the classics speak in torrents, as if flowers fell from the sky. But how can staring at a painted cake day after day satisfy your hunger? Nor can the shadow of bamboo sweep the dust from the courtyard. Lessen desire and thought; forget the words and grasp their true meaning. Every school finds it hard to let go of its doctrines; the ability to let go is precious. If you release the attachment held within the square inch (the heart-mind), what cannot be found even after wearing through iron shoes will come into view.

Green at the Willow Tips

Faintly, the morning stars flicker and shine. White dew settles on green moss and withered leaves. Amid the ruins of an old site, pale mists, and fading wild grasses, once stood the palaces of the Han. Travelers on the great road to Xianyang remain devoted to fame and profit. Faces change, and the past and present are worn away; only a waning crescent moon remains above the ridge.

The Second

Once you have grasped the truth of “neither arising nor ceasing,” there is no need to cling to trivial details and petty distinctions. When the mood takes you, sing aloud; when drunk, sleep among the fragrant grasses and roam through immortal palaces in your dreams.

At times I earnestly advise everyone, repeating my cautions: Do not live like an empty shell without a soul. Do not let greed for wealth contort your face and waste the years of your life for nothing.

“Song of Plum Blossoms”

I am an old man in the mountains, and my hair turned white early. I have done both good and evil in this world; I have known poverty, slept among the fragrant grasses, and wandered through immortal palaces in my dreams.

At times I earnestly advise everyone, repeating my cautions: Do not live like an empty shell without a soul. Do not let greed for wealth contort your face and waste the years of your life for nothing.

“Song of Plum Blossoms”

I am an old man in the mountains, and my hair turned white early. I have done both good and evil in this world; I have known poverty and success. Poverty or success, triumph or disappointment—all are like a dream. Poverty can spare a person the humiliation of disgrace, while a quiet, untroubled life leaves the heart free of burdens.

Do not seek only outstanding talent, or only great renown; too much talent and fame often keep a person rushing about for a lifetime. The less you know, the fewer your worries. If your heart is always grasping and eager to acquire, when will it ever find rest? Do not keep looking outward, and do not keep your mouth busy with talk. Why invite the world’s ceaseless disputes and accusations?

I come and go alone, without a companion. I pour my own wine and drink by myself, giving no thought to honor or disgrace. Let others criticize and suspect me; my heart remains at ease, with the clear breeze and bright moon for company.

“Gazing at Plum Blossoms”

Life and death are the greatest concerns of the body, and they have long troubled me. When hungry, I must find food; when thirsty, I must find water; when cold, I must seek clothes and bedding. These needs are truly hard to bear. Day and night, the body follows me, bringing far too many troubles and calamities.

Cast off the body born of one’s parents, and settle where body and mind each belong; then one can move freely, without obstruction. Traveling, pass through the clouds; when tired, lie beneath the moon. Roam the vast, boundless Great Void, no longer held in restraint—how light and free! Harness the wheel of the wind and ride the divine turtle, and you can travel throughout the Dharma Realm, the vast expanse of all existence as understood in Buddhist and Daoist thought.

Cast off the body born of one’s parents, and settle where body and mind each belong; then one can move freely, without obstruction. Traveling, pass through the clouds; when tired, lie beneath the moon. Roam the vast, boundless Great Void, no longer held in restraint—how light and free! Harness the wheel of the wind and ride the divine turtle, and you can travel throughout the Dharma Realm.

Part Two

There is no need to argue over every dispute; in the end, who is strong and who is weak will become clear. Do not criticize others or deceive yourself; the sages can see even what is done in secret. Listen to my advice: from ancient times to the present, what has ever truly escaped its due consequences?

Brush away, one by one, the burdens and troubles of the world. Let the heart grow quiet and pure, and remain so without wavering. Even if one lays deep foundations and seeks long life and lasting clarity, the years of youth will still pass away. One must cultivate Jing and Qi, along with the heart and Shen. If you meet someone who understands, explain to him the principle of Xiyi: the subtle Dao that cannot be seen or heard.

Part Three

Dense red clouds blanket the earth, swelling and surging as the north wind rises again. Heaven and Earth seem to breathe; Yang Qi gathers and Yin Qi intertwines. Auspicious snow spreads across the fields like flowers of jade. This calls to mind how the resonance of a wise and benevolent ruler brings abundant harvests, and how an age of peace like that of Tang Yao and Yu Shun seems to dawn once more.

Honor the Dao, respect Confucian learning, and practice ritual and righteousness. Revere the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—as arising from a single source. Children are filial, descendants virtuous; officials are loyal, the court upright. Harmony prevails above and below, and the years are peaceful. It is as if the well-ordered age of Tang Yao and Yu Shun had returned. Honor the Dao, respect Confucian learning, and practice ritual and righteousness; revere the Three Teachings as one. Children are filial, descendants virtuous; officials are loyal, the court upright, and harmony fills every level.

Burn precious incense in the jeweled cauldron, and pray that the emperor may live for ten thousand years.

Part Four

The sun has already reached the south-facing window, yet I am still asleep. Beyond the sparse bamboo grove, the thatched gate remains shut. Suddenly someone comes and gently knocks. Only then do I turn over and rise lazily. I am sleeping so soundly—what in this world could compare with such deep sleep? Perhaps only falling into a heavy drunken stupor: then too, one forgets alarm, forgets rising and falling. One does not know when one rises, nor when one falls, as though life and death were equal and one had merged with Heaven and Earth.

The meaning is difficult to understand, like a mute trying to explain a riddle, beyond words.

Part Five

Do not keep dwelling on other people’s faults and failings. Examine your own shortcomings, and do not let them disturb your heart. The restless heart, once like a monkey, and the unruly thoughts, once like a wild horse, have now been awakened and are gradually settling down, brought under control. Make the heart clear and turn your gaze inward. Cultivate a state of calm balance and uprightness, and understand what it means to shed the ordinary body and mind and transform the condition of one’s life. This insight is hard to put into words, like a mute trying to explain a riddle.

Do not keep dwelling on other people’s faults and failings. Examine your own shortcomings, and do not let them disturb your heart. Thoughts that were once unruly and difficult to tame are now gradually settling down and coming under control. Make the heart clear and turn your gaze inward; cultivate a state of calm balance and uprightness, and understand what it means to shed the ordinary body and mind and transform the condition of one’s life.

When things arise, be able to deal with them decisively in the moment. The way to immortality has no other secret: persevere, remain humble, and enrich what is within. Those skilled in planning need not calculate every step. When your deeds and cultivation are complete, ride the auspicious clouds to pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, and take up residence in the immortal palace.

Part Six

The fire in the alchemical furnace has gone out, and the person in the music room has fallen quiet. The Wind Official, the spirit who governs the wind, is tuning the strings. When the moon shines bright above the solitary peak, I will feel as though I am wandering through an immortal realm in a dream.

Song of Incense

All around is quiet and still, and the scent of wine drifts through the air. Life is plain; all I ask is to live freely and at ease. My home lies near a valley, leaning against the mountainside, with a bamboo fence for a gate, a broom bound from thorny branches, and a marker woven from grass. I wear a loose robe of hemp and coarse cloth, tie a long, rough silk sash around my waist, and lean on a crooked cane of wisteria. I cook yellow essence, a familiar medicinal plant, and brew Atractylodes, another medicinal herb, with my own hands. At home I have a tiled teapot, an earthen stove and pot, and a dipper made from a gourd.

The Second

The Langyuan and Yingzhou, fabled realms of the immortals, and the lofty towers of the Golden Valley Garden cannot compare with the quiet grace of a thatched cottage. Wildflowers carpet the ground, lending the place a beauty all its own. This home suits spring, summer, and autumn alike. When the wine has fermented, I strain it and prepare to drink; when a guest arrives, I invite him to sit. There is no glory, no disgrace, and no sorrow. What is wrong with stepping back and living at ease? When tired, I sleep; when thirsty, I drink; when drunk, I sing.

The Third

A low crosswall and a low window with a sparse lattice stand beside a little pond. Rockeries rise in uneven layers, while the pond rests against green waters. Here there is a gentle breeze, moonlight, and a touch of coolness. Daily life is plain and unadorned, with only a wooden table and a rattan bed. Water and mountain scenery lie before my eyes. Even if a guest arrives and there is no wine, it is still fine to sit and talk. I simply boil tea, warm the cups, and pour a little tea into each.

The Fourth

Sweep away the dust, and cherish the moss before your eyes. Let red leaves gather on the steps before the gate; the scene is fit for a painting and has a charm all its own. In the courtyard stand a few pines, several stalks of bamboo, and a few sprigs of plum. Let the flowers and trees I have planted bloom in their own season. Tomorrow’s affairs are arranged by Heaven. Who knows when wealth and rank will come? I will simply pass my days at ease, accept whatever comes, and keep my heart open.

The Golden Pellet uses the five night watches as a metaphor for the stages of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

First: The First Watch

At the first watch, gather and restrain the mind. Keep thoughts from racing like a runaway horse, and do not let the mind, like a monkey and horse, caper about at will. Once awakened, the mind becomes cool and clear, and stray thoughts naturally fall away. When people return to their original nature, they become free and at ease, pure and serene. They should also eat less to nourish Qi (vital energy) and Shen (spirit), bringing body and mind to completeness and aligning themselves with the changes of the four seasons.

Second: The Second Watch

At the second watch, Yin and Yang unite, like a husband and wife meeting. “The infant” and “the maiden” are Neidan metaphors for the refined energies of Yin and Yang. Their union and harmonization seem to set the cosmos turning anew. The practitioner brings together the Water and Fire energies represented by the Kan and Li trigrams, reversing Yin and Yang so they circulate and transform. “The earth ox” and “the wooden horse” are also Neidan metaphors, describing the movement of Yin and Yang energies within the body, whose force seems to shake mountains and seas. Then, using transport images such as the “sheep cart,” the practitioner gathers and directs the fierce firing process into the Niwan Palace, a site of cultivation inside the head in Neidan, making even spirits and gods tremble.

Third: The Third Watch

At the third watch, the foundations of practice are firm, and inner visions appear clearly, bright as the noonday sun on the Dragon Boat Festival. The practitioner repeatedly circulates the inner Qi, as if turning a wheel backward in the Niwan and raising dust. The energies of Metal and Wood cross and move, like the rising sun and moon—the crow and hare. Once the ingredients have gathered, they are blended like mercury and lead with a “knife-measure,” an ancient tool for measuring medicine that here refers to a small amount of elixir. Then essence descends like white snow, and vitality surges forth like yellow sprouts, as if jade radiance appeared and golden lotuses opened one after another.

Fourth: The Fourth Watch

At the fourth watch, the rhythm of practice is like the beating of a ritual drum: the golden rooster announces dawn, and even wood seems to open its mouth and sing. The practitioner sets the energies in motion, sending them up and down through the body’s gates and openings. The “Bright Hall” is a bodily site described in Neidan. The tiger and dragon, symbols of Yin and Yang energies, move freely back and forth as the practitioner adjusts their increase and decrease according to the firing process and circulates Water and Fire. Black and red energies are placed in the furnace and refined into a golden pellet, then further refined into elixirs as white as snow and red as cinnabar.

Fifth: The Fifth Watch

At the fifth watch, dawn is breaking. The practice is complete, and the work has been accomplished. It is as if the practitioner has shed the bodily shell and can move between being and nonbeing, revealing their true nature. In this way, the immortals attain lasting joy and extend their lives without growing old. At last they receive a purple edict from the celestial realm, announcing the Jade Emperor’s summons. Riding auspicious clouds, they return to Penglai Island, the sea mountain where immortals dwell.

“Two Little Topknot Horses: Danyang”

At the first watch, focus single-mindedly, sit quietly and at ease, and gather the spirit. Do not let the mind, like a monkey and horse, romp about, and do not indulge your thoughts. First, reduce sleep. When the mind is settled and scattered thoughts fade, it is as if the blue sky has emerged. Through sustained practice, one can eventually accumulate merit and accomplishment, ride auspicious clouds, and return to Penglai Island.

Some characters and words in the original are damaged; the interpretation above follows the meaning suggested by the surviving text.

At the first watch, devote yourself to cultivation: sit peacefully and quietly, gathering the spirit and turning your gaze inward. If the monkey mind and galloping thoughts—an image for unruly, hard-to-control thoughts—frolic and race off, do not let them run free. First, reduce your sleep. When scattered thoughts have vanished, it is like clouds parting to reveal the sky. Cultivation must be sustained without slackening. Only when the work is complete can merit accumulate until it extends throughout the vast universe. These practices must be accomplished through your own effort; they cannot be completed simply by letting things follow their natural course.

Second

At the second watch, Yin and Yang Qi begin to move. Lead and Mercury—metaphors in Daoist Neidan for the Yin-Yang essences within the body—transform into one another, as lead melts and Mercury is refined by fire: lead turns into Mercury, and Mercury is refined back into lead. Harmonizing Qi fills the body, mind, and inner cosmos. Let this balanced Qi move within emptiness and stillness, like a luminous pearl threaded through nine winding bends. It passes through the twin gates—the body’s inner openings—and shoots straight into the blue sky. In the end, one realizes that this, too, is simply the way of nature.

Third

At the third watch, the moon is full, and music from flutes and song seems to sound across the night sky. The golden boys and jade maidens, attendants in the Daoist realm of immortals, are filled with joy; this is unlike anything in the human world. Drink the wine of long life: though intoxicated, you are not confused, and after drinking you remain like a youth. Gaze toward the distant, elevated scene at Qujiang; this wine costs nothing to buy.

Fourth

At the fourth watch, the inner realm is clear and bright, shining straight through to the blue sky. Ascend to the farther shore, the realm beyond the afflictions of life and death, and travel in a phoenix carriage drawn by luan birds. This cultivation may take two or three years of hard work. Do not proclaim this teaching carelessly or pass it on falsely. When it is truly transmitted in depth, there is nothing left to say. The monkey and horse—images for thoughts and intentions—are one another; do not divide them into two.

Fifth

At the fifth watch, the sound of the painted horn wakes you from a clear dream of roaming among immortals. Sleep is like a dream, and a dream is like sleep; only then do you understand that mind is Heaven. Heaven gives rise to Earth, and Earth in turn gives rise to Heaven. All things return to the one Qi, the original energy of Heaven and Earth before differentiation, and unite in primordial wholeness, the state in which Heaven and Earth remain undivided. Another year is added, and a year is taken away; true emptiness remains still and unmoving.

“Step by Step, Graceful”—Master Fan

Dwelling in an ancient tomb, one is at ease walking, sitting, standing, singing, and dancing. Grasp this true emptiness, the state beyond attachment, still and unobstructed, and you can awaken in an instant. From ancient times to the present, each year added is also a year taken away, while true emptiness remains forever still and unmoving.

“Step by Step, Graceful”—Master Fan

Dwelling in an ancient tomb, amid walking, sitting, standing, lying down, singing, and dancing, one must hold to true emptiness and awaken in an instant. Since ancient times, people have often spoken of the Dragon and Tiger, terms in Neidan that symbolize Yin and Yang, Lead and Mercury, yet few have truly understood their meaning.

Second

A secret formula was passed down to teach me the method of “planting and grafting,” a Neidan practice for replenishing and sustaining Jing and Qi. Since I began cultivating according to the formula, everything has changed: jade pistils and golden flowers seem to have borne fruit. It is like a mute tasting honey: the sweetness is real, yet difficult to put into words.

Third

Gentleness and weakness are a fine family tradition; the Great Dao is not empty of substance. The principle of Lead and Mercury, symbols of Yin-Yang essences in Neidan, is indeed real. Once Water and Fire are joined in harmony, the Qi above and below move in mutual circulation. Gentle and vigorous firing—the Neidan terms for the timing and intensity of the refining process—must be used in turn so that cultivation can be brought to completion together.

Fourth

True cultivation and skill, like the “knife and ladle” (daogui, a crucial method or substance in Daoist alchemy), take effect as swiftly as the wind. Without guidance from a true master, they are hard to understand. The first step in cultivation is to open and clear every joint and channel throughout the body.

Its Fifth

I sit on the heated brick bed, singing little tunes as they come to me. When I’m tired, I take a nap—what of it? I turn Yin and Yang upside down. Yet I laugh at you, sitting there to no purpose.

Its Sixth

When poor people drink fine wine and become thoroughly drunk, they no longer worry about anything. Let others slander and scold them; they pay no heed and seem, instead, to have gained the upper hand. Those who appear dazed and dull, as though deaf and mute, are the ones truly cultivating.

Its Seventh

The natural Dao of Wuwei (non-action, following nature without contrivance) is so pure and still that it seems to sprout a numinous fungus. Quietly sensing one another and understanding without words is enough. In the depths of darkness, it is as though the furnace has been sealed. Keep at the practice for a time, and it will succeed.

Its Eighth

Do not cling to the idea that cultivating “nature” alone is the whole of practice. How could you refine the Yang Spirit (the pure-Yang spirit described in Daoist cultivation) that way? Nine out of ten people merely cling to stubborn emptiness, treating stillness and void as the goal. If you cultivate the foundations of life together with the mind-nature, success is as assured as making flatbreads from white flour.

Its Ninth

Numinous fungi lie everywhere, yet no one recognizes them. The weight of accumulated karmic obstacles makes them difficult to overcome. Now I want to tell you how this works, but I fear you will not believe me and will dismiss it as absurd.

Its Tenth

If you believe, believe for yourself; if you do not, there is no need to force yourself to cultivate. Do not wait until you are thirsty to dig a well. Day after day I see you laboring to no avail. Since it does no good, there is nothing more to say.

Its Tenth

If you believe, believe for yourself; if you do not, there is no need to force yourself to cultivate. Do not wait until you are thirsty to dig a well. Day after day I see you laboring to no avail. Since it does no good, there is nothing more to say.

“Golden Pendant” (Gua Jin Suo), Its Second

I delight in a life of quiet leisure, my mind as clear and bright as a mirror. When external things dissolve and thoughts and feelings are forgotten, distinctions naturally fall away. Flower buds scatter across the vast sky, revealing the bright moon in the clear heavens. Even with a voice, one could hardly explain this state of cultivation.

During the first watch, gather your mind and spirit, sit upright, and begin your practice. Drive away scattered thoughts as though they were flocks of white sheep rushing past. Light the lamp within your heart and behold your original nature. The heart is clear and luminous, as if a precious pearl were suspended within it.

Its third verse

During the second watch, all around grows quiet, and nothing can disturb the mind and spirit. A pair of golden toads, symbolic images of cultivation, circle above and below. The Three Corpses, Daoist spirits said to dwell in the human body and stir up desire, flee in terror like lightning. Behold your original nature. The heart is clear and luminous, as if a precious pearl were suspended within it.

Its third verse

During the second watch, all around grows quiet, and nothing can disturb the mind and spirit. A pair of golden toads circle above and below. The Three Corpses flee in terror, as swift as lightning. Snow falls thick and fast, and jade blossoms from the immortal realm descend petal by petal.

Its fourth verse

During the third watch, Yang Qi stirs to life at the hour of the Rat. Yin and Yang, like mother and child, pay homage to the Golden Palace, the celestial palace of Daoist tradition. Beneath the sea, the numinous turtle drinks the Golden Crow’s blood, the Golden Crow being the legendary bird of the sun. A single Qi, the primordial breath of Daoist tradition, flows on without end, passing through the Three Passes, the body’s inner gates in cultivation. Ten thousand rays of rosy light bear up the Moon over the Western River.

Its fifth verse

During the fourth watch, all is peaceful and nothing else disturbs the stillness. Settle the flower in your heart and admire the sight of spring that never fades. The Wu-Ji Gate, an inner-cultivation passage named with Five Phases terminology, opens, and a perfected one enters. A Golden Elixir, the essence condensed through Neidan practice, is carried to the summit of Kunlun, the inner-cultivation passage at the crown of the head.

Its sixth verse

During the fifth watch, dawn breaks, and the night’s practice is complete. The Dragon and Tiger unite, the Neidan image for the union of Yin and Yang, and in doing so churn up the Yellow River. Thunder rumbles through the air, beyond the knowledge of ghosts and spirits. Recognize your original nature and reveal your innate true form.

Its seventh verse

After completing the purification, stroll at ease and sing alone, with no one to answer. The woodcutters in the mountains sing “li, [unclear], luo” as well. The vision of rising is wondrous and unfathomable. Recognize your original nature and reveal your innate true form.

Its seventh verse

After completing the purification, stroll at ease and sing alone, with no one to answer. The woodcutters in the mountains sing “li, [unclear], luo” as well. Climb one slope, then descend another. Even a high office cannot match the freedom I enjoy.

Its eighth verse

Another year has passed, and I am a year older. Each day, live in accord with the moment; why contend over petty grievances? How swiftly the finest years slip away in the blink of an eye. Do not wait until life’s end draws near before remembering to practice.

Its ninth verse

I urge everyone: listen closely as I explain each point in turn. If you do not understand the changes of Yin and Yang, how can you know the path of cultivation? Begin with the first efforts and refine yourself into a body of lead and mercury, the Yin and Yang essences used in Neidan imagery. Then the tortoise and serpent, symbols of Yin and Yang joining, will naturally guide you along the Cao Xi path of cultivation.

Wise gentlemen, listen carefully as I explain each point in turn. When the year of Jiazi arrives, the lifespan allotted by Heaven is about to run out. Through cultivation, one can escape the prison of the mundane world and set out on the path to long life, so that the King of Hell and his ghostly messengers need not come to claim one’s soul.

“Hanging Golden Lock” · Ma Danyang

At the first watch, sit upright and slowly harmonize the inner Dragon and Tiger, metaphors in Daoist Neidan for Yin and Yang Qi. Set the Qi moving through the Three Passes, the gateways along its path in cultivation, until it flows freely to the Mud Ball, a Neidan term for the head. The Dragon coils in the Golden Cauldron, while the Tiger guards the Yellow Court, a place within the body regarded as a site of cultivation. Do not pass these methods on carelessly to others.

The Second

At the second watch, refine the two kinds of true Yin-Yang Qi; their mysteries are without end. Take the utmost care not to err as Qi moves through the Three Passes above and below. The Maiden and the Infant, metaphors in Neidan for Yin and Yang essences, have both stirred to life; the Golden Duke and the Yellow Matron, metaphors for the harmonizing of Yin and Yang, will naturally work together.

The Third

At the third watch, the bright moon illuminates Heaven and Earth, and evil spirits flee in alarm, vanishing for a thousand miles around. The Yin troops—all the malign Yin Qi—have withdrawn; there is no need to rely on elixirs or other external substances. The turtle and snake beneath the sea, images in Neidan of Yin and Yang joining, naturally coil and merge.

The Fourth

At the fourth watch, with nothing else to do, one may as well recite the true scripture. Every line is profound and mysterious, speaking of Daoist cultivation. Cultivation requires neither water nor fire, neither firewood nor charcoal: through inner refinement, one forms a spiritual elixir, whose worth cannot be matched by ten thousand taels of gold.

The Fifth

At the fifth watch, dawn breaks, and the golden rooster on its perch crows. Someone, delighted, claps and laughs aloud. After letting the ox eat its fill, one can sleep soundly and happily. When cultivation is complete and its work accomplished, an imperial summons will arrive in the form of an Elixir Register, a certificate or immortal status granted to cultivators.

“Urging the Thin-Browed One” · Sun Xiangu

I urge people to awaken: through cultivation, one can escape the suffering of the Three Paths—the Buddhist and Daoist term for the realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and animals. There is plainly a way out of the mundane world. Tan, Ma, Qiu, Liu, Sun, Wang, Hao, and Taigu—figures associated with the Quanzhen tradition—use the Dharma as a compassionate vessel to ferry all beings across, saving them throughout the world.

The Second

They teach the ignorant, helping them leave behind the burning-house troubles of worldly life and let go of husbands, wives, and children. With the sword of wisdom, they sever entanglements and bring people to awakening. Through cultivation, one can escape the suffering of the Three Paths; there is plainly a way out of the mundane world. Tan, Ma, Qiu, Liu, Sun, Wang, Hao, and Taigu use the Dharma as a compassionate vessel to ferry all beings across, saving them throughout the world.

Even the dull-witted can attain awakening if they cast off the burdens of family ties and worldly desires. With the sword of wisdom, they cut away the causes and conditions that lead to the Three Paths of Suffering—the Buddhist realms of hell, hungry ghosts, and animals. Views of self and others collapse like a mountain, and disputes over right and wrong dry up like the sea. Past karmic obstacles are cleared, and no new misfortunes are made.

Third

Long to attain the Dao and become an immortal. When mercury and lead—the symbolic medicines of Neidan—unite as black and white, they form the path to the subtle, mysterious realm of Xiyi. Set your direction firmly and commit yourself to arduous practice. Persist day and night; coarse clothes and plain food are enough. Beg for food in the streets, regarding all people in the ten directions as your parents.

Fourth

Let your heart be free of worry, like a lone cloud or a wild crane. Live in a thatched hut, quietly and at leisure reading Daoist scriptures. Beyond the window are mountains, forests, and spring water; dwell beside the mountains and water, in the company of green bamboo. The bright moon and fresh breeze are companions enough.

Fifth

Nurture your original nature. Keep the monkey mind and horse-like thoughts—the image of a restless, unruly mind—firmly in check, so that the Six Thieves, the senses and thoughts that disturb the mind and stir up desire, can no longer lead you astray. In a deep and silent state, hazy and free of thought, the heart and spirit grow clear and settled, and nature and life become firm in turn.

Sixth

Carefully grasp the purpose of cultivation. When Wood and Metal, terms from the Five Phases in Neidan, meet, the mysterious path opens. Bring the Four Images and Five Phases—the symbolic elements that shape changes in body and mind in Neidan theory—together in harmony. Jing and Qi condense, Shen becomes concentrated, and Yin-Yang energies naturally circulate back and forth. The whole body feels as if it is being steamed, and the firing process of the microcosmic circuit reaches completion.

Seventh

Break through darkness and confusion. Earth Thunder trembles, as if rain were falling on a mountain peak; Yellow Sprouts grow and White Snow flies—symbols of the formation of medicines in Neidan practice. Sweet dew descends, and auspicious herbs fill the garden. Jade medicines appear in profusion, and golden flowers bloom.

Eighth

Such scenes deserve to be described. A person moves freely through clouds and water, flying and ranging in every direction. Above the winding river, flying crows and running rabbits symbolize the movement of the sun and moon. The tiger coils around the dragon, and Kan and Li—Neidan terms symbolizing Water and Fire, Yin and Yang—come together. The turning of the Celestial Gate and the movement of the Earth’s axis describe the circulation and transformation of Qi within the body.

Ninth

The Dharma Wheel turns with force. The River Chariot, a metaphor in Neidan for transporting Jing and Qi, moves steadily like a wheel with thirty spokes. The energies of the sun and moon are carried into the Golden Furnace, then refined in the Jade Cauldron and simmered over the True Fire of the Nine Suns, the yang fire of Neidan cultivation. Ten thousand rays of rosy light rise, while a thousand layers of emerald mist swirl.

Tenth

Nurture the luminous pearl. Refine and bring forth the embryo immortal, the perfected immortal body of Neidan, and set it dancing. Amid a joyful union, the Maiden of the Crimson Face—a Neidan symbol for nature and life, or for Yin energy—also gathers to completion. When thirsty, drink jade nectar; the jade zither sounds of itself. The music of the immortals flows in harmony, like the ringing of gold and jade.

Eleventh

Even within being, one can experience nonbeing; even within nonbeing, there remains a trace that can serve as a basis for action. Between being and nonbeing, one must search inwardly for the principle that lies between them. Reality is concealed within nonbeing, while being, too, can lead to a state in which it seems there is nothing at all. When being and nonbeing are both forgotten, the mind becomes like the Great Void, vast and boundless.

Twelve

When one’s cultivation is complete, the immortals of the three Penglai islands gather, and countless sages assemble at the grand feast in the Jade Pool. They are all people who have cultivated the Dao and attained its Way, joining the ranks of the immortals through their study of the Dao. They serve the High Perfected, revered Daoist divine beings, and the Queen Mother of the West.

Thirteen

They partake of exquisite delicacies from the celestial realm, clad in immortal robes, their bodies rising weightlessly. Riding phoenixes and luan birds, they wander through the Celestial Capital, the palace precincts of Daoist legend. There stand jeweled halls and towers, their vermilion gates studded with golden nails. There, night is as bright as day and spring lasts through all four seasons; nothing comes or goes, nothing changes.

[Shang Mode] Tune of “Leaves of the Wutong”

Watch the egrets, gaze at the crows, fish and shrimp foraging beneath the water; orioles pass through the willow grove, butterflies linger over flowers. The scene is serene and elegant. Unless you are a master of the stature of Yunmen, do not lightly boast that you understand its subtle wonder.

Second

Think of Linji, whose foundation was great compassion. One strike of the staff seems to peel away a layer of skin. Truly foolish—he does not even know whether he feels pain or itch.

Third

Use tortoise hair for a whisk and rabbit horns for an awl; a frog leaps toward the sky, a clay ox bellows, and a wooden horse neighs. Few understand that, in every gesture and glance, the secrets of Heaven are revealed.

Fourth

Wheat can be ground into flour, millet can be pounded into grain; beneath cloth trousers, the legs are still wrapped inside. There are stones in the mountains and water in the sea. These words express the truth of things. Dongxia, an immortal realm or state of spiritual cultivation, rests on this foundation and has no end.

Fifth

Tame the mind’s horse and tether the heart’s monkey—that is, gather in scattered thoughts and impulses—and nourish spirit and breath until body and mind are complete. This is not contrivance, but accord with nature. Through it, one apprehends the hidden and mysterious; the Dharma Eye, the wisdom that sees into truth, can then transcend the whole universe.

Sixth

The wondrous pass is blocked, as though by an illusory city gate along the path of cultivation. One need only give it a kick, and it topples over. Amid red blossoms and green willows, the faces of immortals and Buddhas appear everywhere, while all kinds of veils and obstacles are driven away.

The Seventh

The moon at the edge of the sky is full. To seek the heavens, however, one must dig into the earth. Seek what is absent within what is present, and what is present within what is absent; again and again, reverse the ordinary order. The mystery here is profound and deep. The essential principles of the true path must be transmitted orally by a master.

The Eighth

The moon at the edge of the sky is a crescent. Mao and You (terms associated with the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang and the timing of cultivation) are no empty words. Mercury and lead each weigh eight liang; together they make one jin, signifying the union of the two Qi of Yin and Yang. This can illuminate the three thousand great thousand worlds. When the moon is full, to seek the heavens one must dig into the earth, searching in reverse between what is present and what is absent. The mystery is profound and abstruse; the essential principles of the true path must be transmitted orally by a master.

The Eighth

The moon at the edge of the sky is a crescent, and Mao and You are no empty words. Mercury and lead each weigh eight liang, making one jin; this can illuminate the three thousand great thousand worlds.

The Ninth

The moon at the edge of the sky is like a bow, and the wonders of the true Dao are inexhaustible. The dragon and tiger subdue one another and join together; when they meet, they form a golden flower swaying in the wind. Here, “dragon” and “tiger” are Neidan terms symbolizing the Qi of Yin and Yang.

The Tenth

The moon at the edge of the sky shines toward the south, with three threes before and behind. Li is the woman, and Kan is the man (Li and Kan are trigrams from the Book of Changes, representing fire and water and often symbolizing Yin and Yang). The mystery within can be discussed but not spelled out; otherwise, how could anyone come to understand it?

The Eleventh

The moon at the edge of the sky is like a Cinnabar Furnace, with lead and mercury set inside the cauldron. By refining them with fire, one can produce a precious pearl. It is like a gourd and weighs three hundred and eighty-four zhu, an ancient unit of weight.

“Filling the Courtyard with Fragrance” 7

Human life is as brief as a spark struck from stone; its span is limited, and life and death are hard to foresee. A person’s arising and passing happen suddenly, swift as lightning. See that the body is only a temporary gathering of conditions, then seek the methods of the immortal Dao that transcend the worldly realm.

“Filling the Courtyard with Fragrance” 7

Human life is brief, and life and death are hard to foresee; a person’s arising and passing are swift as lightning. See that the body is only a temporary gathering, then turn toward the Dao and seek methods of cultivation, recognizing the true teaching. Those who cultivate the Dao accompany one another at all times, sitting and drinking rosy nectar together, the immortal dew said to be drunk by immortals. Together they draw close to the clear wind and bright moon, share the same aspirations, and behold the light of heaven. They gather together, pay their respects to a master, seek the Dao, and sing “Filling the Courtyard with Fragrance.”

The Cloud-Clad Adept’s love of the mountains has never faded; even in dreams, he often returns to their cool, quiet forests. When can he truly withdraw to a mountain cave and sit in meditation on a rush cushion beneath the shade of pines? Letting wild cranes keep him company and mountain apes become his kindred spirits.

With a wondrous pill of elixir and a zither, all the thoughts and cares in his heart grow still. He looks back and laughs at those caught up in the dusty world: whom, exactly, are they competing with for its gold? They give no thought to their youthful looks quietly fading—how, then, could they notice their hair gradually turning white?

Beneath Mount Beimang, dense wild grass grows, and dry bones lie scattered everywhere. Broken stone steles lean this way and that; no one can read the characters on them anymore, while yellow oxen and white calves plow the fields nearby. What was so remarkable about the ministers and generals of the Qin dynasty? They never knew that the high officials of the Han dynasty, too, had long since been buried beneath Mount Beimang.

Fourth

Better to withdraw from the world, roam with the white clouds, and learn the Way of long life. The Daoist of Clear Stream is a true friend: he gathers pine pollen to take with the flowers of the lingzhi mushroom. So long as one can enjoy the sun and moon within the pot—the Daoist realm of freedom and long life—there is no longer any need to chase fame and rank written on paper.

Fifth

The Protector General of the South rides a fine horse, his arm resting on an engraved bow, cutting an imposing figure. Yet with his gold seal and purple sash, by the time he returns in triumph he is already old, and people call him only a white-haired, frail old man. The glory of the past was no more than a fleeting dream; looking back, all things have come to nothing.

Sixth

Quickly take up the crow-shaped hoe and climb the cloud-wreathed peak, leaning alone against a towering pine. The boundless scenery before me could inspire a thousand poems, yet who could share this lazy, carefree life? On a long night, I drink three cups of cloudy wine; when the night is cool, I sleep with the clear breeze for a pillow.

Seventh

Practice diligently according to the methods of the Nine Cycles and Seven Reversions, refining again and again in the alchemical furnace. When the Golden Elixir is complete, it shines with dazzling brilliance, and colored clouds encircle a dark pearl—the symbol of the inner elixir. It is as though one has seized the Jade Rabbit from the moon and summoned the Golden Crow from the sun. The Jade Rabbit and Golden Crow symbolize the moon and sun, and are also often used to represent the two Qi of Yin and Yang.

Eighth

A blue-robed immortal attendant brings a message from a purple phoenix, inviting me to enter Penghu, the fabled immortal isle. I wander freely among the Ten Isles, where spring lasts forever and youth never fades. I drink my fill of peaches of immortality, their fragrance drifting through the celestial capital where immortals dwell. After a thousand years, white hair turns black again; though ages have passed, the face remains rosy as before.

Ninth

In the end, worldly riches and honor are like a heap of dry bones, or bubbles that burst in an instant on the water’s surface. The flourishing of the Sui, Tang, Jin, Song, Qi, and Liang dynasties was no more than a dream; now only lonely, desolate burial mounds remain. Outside the courtyard are yellow chrysanthemums and green bamboo; by the water, a white bird grieves alone for autumn.

Tenth

Enough—let me return and leave it all behind, easing the furrow of my brow. Deep among the white clouds is a place to lie in peace; let me follow the example of Tan, Ma, Qiu, and Liu of Shandong, four early patriarchs of the Quanzhen school. Seven golden lotuses bloom in splendor, and ten thousand branches of jade medicine appear graceful and refined.

Eleventh

I lean on a goosefoot staff and let the years drift slowly by, my broad cloth sleeves trailing behind me. I have never concerned myself with right and wrong, fame or gain. I enter the Zhongnan Mountains and roam through forests veiled in cloud and mist. For my midday meal, I eat green cypresses growing between two rocky peaks; my autumn clothes seem like a pond full of emerald lotus leaves.

From deep among the white clouds comes the Song of the Purple Zhi, sung by a hermit. I hear it and only chuckle scornfully. Those travelers hurrying without end along the roads of Chang’an wear themselves out in vain: what they pursue in dreams is no more than a fleeting fantasy of wealth and glory. The wheels of their carriages may gleam like brocade, but who can guess that their temples will one day turn white?

A fresh breeze blows in through the north window, as if brushing past green langgan, bamboo like jade. My midday nap is interrupted, and the dream fades with it. Mountain springs fall onto the rocks, clear and beyond price; half the terrace disappears into the clouds. I browse at will among a thousand scrolls of poetry and books, while incense burns quietly in the brazier. Life is peaceful and secluded.

I cast off every worldly concern, and my heart settles; my face, too, regains the look of youth. In the pot lies a small, true secret of the Dao—the mystery of Neidan cultivation. Who would dare come knocking to ask about the Mysterious Pass, the crucial gateway of practice? I thank the thousand-year-old crane for silently passing on the Nine-Turn Divine Elixir, the legendary Daoist method of alchemical refinement.

My face is hard as cold iron, my body so thin that only bone remains, and my heart quiet as cooled ashes. The Daoist way of life does not accord with worldly attachments, so why should I concern myself with receiving and seeing people off? At night I listen to the springs drip, drop by drop; at dawn I gaze upon the mountain’s lush green slopes.

A long cry soars straight into the cold clouds, while an old crane circles nearby. Do not carry my good name to the capital, lest it disturb my quiet seclusion on Mount Tiantai. I will prepare a little boat and a short oar, then ready a bamboo hat and straw sandals.

I will plant slender bamboo and tall pines to keep company with me, a languid and carefree soul. Dense shade spreads across the ground, and the dark moss gives off a coolness. I sit and finger a three-foot jiaotong qin, an ancient instrument made from paulownia wood. Clear air drifts gently through the cave, and a fresh wind rustles through the forest.

Those old heroes in Chang’an, dressed in official robes and surrounded by carriages and horses, now struggle onward through an exhausted career in government. They toil across a mere thousand miles of dusty roads, their hair worn fine as silk—what can they accomplish? How could that compare with a Daoist’s freedom, refining the crimson Nine-Turn Elixir through repeated alchemical workings?

When the autumn air is crisp, I gather and prepare Polygonatum by hand, an herb that can be taken as nourishment, and gradually feel changes in my body. The old illnesses I have suffered for ten years have all faded away. When meeting others, however, I should not speak of attaining immortality. Many thanks to the Daoist riding an ox, who last night gave me a sprig of Zhi Ying, an immortal herb akin to lingzhi.

Those who study how to become immortals should aspire to become Celestial Immortals. Cultivate the Golden Elixir so that nature and life may reach fulfillment. This fulfillment can be traced back to Fuxi, the legendary sage king of antiquity, who drew the trigrams. The secret of cultivating pre-heavenly Qi is passed down by an enlightened master.

The great medicine of the Golden Elixir is not hard to find; everyone has the foundation needed to cultivate it. In practice, do not stray from the alchemical stove, a metaphor for cultivation. Realize what is truly present within emptiness, and reverse and unite the Yin-Yang energies of the Kan trigram, which symbolizes water and Yin, and the Li trigram, which symbolizes fire and Yang, gathering them into one.

The wondrous Way of the Golden Elixir has immense power. Gather in the White Tiger, a metaphor in Daoist internal alchemy for Jing and Qi, and subdue the Red Dragon, a metaphor for the heart’s fire and related forces. Place them in the Jade Ding, a metaphor for refining body and mind, and, in an instant, put the workings of Yin-Yang transformation into motion.

After taking the Millet Pearl, a term in internal alchemy for the elixir or subtle inner medicine, the mind becomes calm and peaceful. Carefully regulate the firing times. After ten months of effort, the spirit embryo, formed through internal alchemy, can awaken and transform. The infant, a metaphor for this embryo, leaps with vitality, and the myriad perfected beings come to pay their respects at the Crimson Palace, a term in internal alchemy for the heart palace.

The light of wisdom shines clear, penetrating the original teaching and joining with the single nature of the boundless Dharma realm. Once this is understood, there is a meditative mind that is both empty and not empty. The teachings through which the Tathagata, the Buddha, and the Old Lord, Laozi, transform living beings are the same.

Cultivation of the Real restores the ancestral nature, our original true nature, to fulfillment, making one free and at ease, beyond the ordinary world. Such a person has no cravings, worries, or anger. The matter of long life appears as naturally as the springtime on an apricot branch.

Accumulate eight hundred merits through good deeds and complete three thousand acts of virtue; roam the Four Seas and guide those who are destined to meet the teaching. Those with such affinity may receive a summons in an elixir edict from the Ninth Heaven, ride phoenixes and cranes, and take their place among the immortals before the throne.

Sensory activities such as seeing, hearing, knowing, and perceiving need no longer be clung to or discussed. To awaken fully to true emptiness is like returning home after passing the imperial examinations: one comes back to one’s original nature. Once home, one sees through the mysteries of Heaven and Earth’s transformations. This is neither hard nor easy. When the work is complete, one endures as long as Heaven and Earth, transcending the cycles of calamity.

Ninth Song

I reveal the secrets of Heaven to you all as encouragement. They cannot be grasped through ordinary cleverness. Once you truly understand, sweep away distracting thoughts and return to the orthodox path of cultivation. Cultivate diligently and follow the Dao, so that the bearing of the immortals and sages may take root and spread.

[Zhonglü] “Greeting the Immortal Guest”

The Primordial Pearl, a priceless treasure embodying the undivided state of Heaven and Earth and the undifferentiated flow of primordial Qi, is something I have already found beside the Red River. Its color is a seamless whole, and its radiance is bright and clear. Hold it in your hands, and you possess all the beauty of the human world.

Second

Without scheming or deliberate contrivance, one lets the sun and moon pass and still remains vigorous and undiminished. Like a boat rowing upstream, turn the oars and pull forward. Who knows how good this quiet, Wuwei way of life is?

Third

The water is deep and clear; the mountains are lovely. The world’s quarrels over right and wrong cannot disturb this place. A bamboo window offers quiet seclusion, and the thatched hut is simple. Only by living here can one know true joy; do not boast of it to the world.

Fourth

A gentle breeze passes through the bamboo grove, and layers of flower shadows overlap. Drink until slightly tipsy, then play a few tunes on the qin. Reveal Heaven’s secrets while concealing their wondrous workings. Even those who once held high office and wielded power can see that life is no more than a dream.

Fifth

Beside willow shade and beneath pine shadows, straighten your back and set down every burden. Settle the restless mind—the “mind-monkey”—and tame the galloping thoughts, the “thought-horse.” In the presence of the bright moon and clear breeze, with whom can one speak of the Dao of long life?

Sixth

Han Zhongli once held a high rank, but now he has awakened from the dream of Nanke, a metaphor for the dreamlike nature of wealth and status, and cast aside his golden seal. In straw sandals, he walks with ease; with a staff of goosefoot in hand, he steps steadily. Smiling, he carries the sun and moon with him and wanders alone in the realm of long life.

Seventh

Lü Dongbin stands beyond the world’s conventions, his divine radiance illuminating the three thousand worlds. He regards fame and official honors as mere weeds and casts them aside. With a staff made of “tortoise hair”—an extravagant image of using something nonexistent as a staff—he strikes once, and it is as though Heaven and Earth themselves shatter.

When Heaven and Earth first opened, Zhang Guolao rode his white donkey backward, as though walking through the empty void. Purple clouds rose, and red mists swirled. At night, with a single breath, he swallowed the immortal island of Penglai and transcended all things. Divine radiance illuminated the three thousand worlds. He regarded fame and achievement as no more than scraps of grass; even a walking stick made from a tortoise’s hair could shatter Heaven and Earth with one blow.

Its Eighth

When Heaven and Earth first opened, Zhang Guolao rode his white donkey backward, as though walking through the empty void. Purple clouds rose, and red mists swirled. At night, he swallowed the immortal island of Penglai in a single gulp.

Its Ninth

Lan Caihe kept far from worldly life. The clapper in his hand rang like cold jade striking jade. As he waved it, he seemed to open Heaven’s gate and shake the axis of Earth. Amid the clear breeze and bright moon, he sang alone of eternal life.

Its Tenth

Liu Haichan had once served as chancellor of the Yan state. Awakening from a dream, he saw through the empty blossoms in the red furnace and the fleeting illusions, as insubstantial as a snowflake. He refined an elixir, then let it go, leaving the dusty world behind and returning to the sea, where he became a golden immortal perfected one.

Eleven

Guangchengzi lived for twelve hundred years, resting at ease on Mount Kongtong amid cold air and white clouds. He had once been an emperor’s teacher, yet made Heaven and Earth his dwelling. Free to roam in every direction, he became an immortal beyond the mundane world, without name or attachment.

Twelve

Fan Li once served the state of Yue. Alone in a small boat, he drifted across the moonlit Five Lakes, forgetting right and wrong and severing himself from fame and profit. At the sound of a short flute, he peacefully savored the reeds, white as snow.

Thirteen

Zhang Zifang helped the Great Han establish its realm. Then he cast aside fame and achievement and withdrew to live among the green hills. He swallowed precious elixirs like dragon’s liver and phoenix eggs, and cultivated the Golden Elixir. As the elixir matured, it seemed to fill a basket with no bottom.

Fourteen

Lie Yukou, the lord of Putiantian, rode upon the wind, seeming to pierce Heaven and Earth with a single impact. He called to the Southern Dipper and the Northern Dipper. The deer he found in a dream, he realized upon waking, was never truly his.

Fifteen

Langranzi lived in Luoyang. When the golden toad flew away, his physical body vanished with it. Ghosts and spirits were stirred, and Heaven and Earth seemed to tremble. His true form—the real nature spoken of by cultivators of the Dao—could not be captured by brush and ink.

Sixteen

I live on Mount Hua, where I delight in quiet and leisure. Green grotto dwellings and little huts of thatch lie scattered here and there in the winding mountain hollows. I do not cook a meal until the sun has climbed high. When I have eaten my fill, I lean on a staff of goosefoot wood and wander around the summit, gazing into the distance.

Who could envy those who hold high office? Let them wear their red robes and green official sashes as they please. My heart is free of worry, and my body rests at ease. People who live with such leisure and freedom are rare in the world. What a quick-witted, carefree soul I am.

I pay no more heed to the world’s turmoil. How peaceful these days are. I am a hermit beneath the trees, free of ties and cares. The emerald rocks are my friends; the clear wind and bright moon are my companions. I sing and dance to my heart’s content, drinking deep of the wine of long life, a familiar image of immortal wine in Daoist poetry.

When I grow drunk, I sleep. When I wake, I still have to steady my head for a while. I stumble about, utterly without shame. My heart knows neither spring nor autumn; I do not fret over the changing seasons. I live freely and at ease, enjoying a long life.

When I return from gathering herbs, I see only white clouds drifting by. Mist veils the green mountains, hiding the path to the immortal realm until it is hard to make out. A black ape calls, and a blue bird sings. A crane dances ahead of me, leading me back to my grotto dwelling.

Inside the cave, I shut the rustic gate and summon an immortal lad to play chess with me. When I feel bored, I have a cup of wine. If I stumble in my straw sandals, I cannot be bothered to take off my clothes; I simply lie down and sleep in them.

The steep peaks are strange and wondrous, ringed by junipers, cypresses, and green pines. Few people ever come here, and travelers passing by are scarce. In this quiet solitude, I live a plain, carefree, and unhurried life.

I eat sour flour and old storehouse rice. My utensils are a chipped wooden bowl and a broken bamboo strainer; with no other vegetables, I make do with ji, crushed or pickled greens. I am content to keep to my humble lot, and find it better than rare delicacies.

In straw sandals and a hemp cord belt, with a rain cape over my shoulders and a gourd hanging at my side, I am half fisherman, half woodcutter. My hair is unkempt and my face is caked with dust. I let others laugh at me as they please.

You laugh at my poverty, but I know my own heart. The bright moon and clear wind are my old friends. Beyond the white clouds, I can still play my jade flute. Few people in the world can understand the taste of this life.

I originally lived in the original Shuizhu Village.