《一贯天机直讲》

Alas, was the human heart not originally good? It turns only because circumstance and the age press upon it. When people scramble for fame and gain, nets and snares for the worthy are already laid; the worthy can only withdraw far off and dwell in seclusion beyond the dust of the world.

Why? They will neither drift with the tide and betray the right path, nor wear themselves out in rivalry until they lose their original true nature. So they leave the secular world, stepping outside form and image; they leave verbal display, unbound by words and concepts. That is roughly what is meant by keeping true nature intact and opening onto the Dao.

Human beings inherit from Heaven a nature that is originally empty, luminous, subtle, and unobscured—capable of embracing all principles and responding to all affairs. Yet the ceaseless enticement of external things, together with layer upon layer of desires in the heart, gradually veils this brightness, so that the innate De (Virtue/Power) no longer shines through. The deeper the desires, the shallower the natural clarity; the less one is tempted by external things, the more intact one's true nature and life remain.

The sages who govern the world therefore cultivate detachment to clarify their purpose; the immortals and buddhas who transcend the world cultivate stillness to return to the source—is this not precisely for this reason? When we examine Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, they originally spring from one source. In general, all three take restraining anger, curbing desire, disciplining oneself, and acting in accordance with ritual as the gateway to cultivating De.

Classics such as the Yinfu Jing, Daode Jing, and Qingjing Jing, as well as Confucian works like the Great Learning and Doctrine of the Mean, all take self-cultivation, family harmony, manifesting De, and Wuwei (non-action) as their foundation. They do not rely on symbolic or cryptic language to express their meaning—unlike certain Daoist texts that habitually employ obscure metaphors such as the tortoise and serpent, dragon and tiger, lead and mercury, or the elixir furnace, leaving readers confused as if lost in thick fog. Some even mistakenly believe that cultivating the Dao means ingesting elixirs, drawing talismans and chanting spells, practicing sexual techniques, or firing external elixirs in a furnace.

Looking across the generations of scholar-officials, many in their later years retreated to Chan monasteries, hoping thereby to clarify their mind-nature. At first they had also been drawn to talk of long life, vision without decline, flight and transcendence—yet they found the reasoning therein abstruse and difficult, not as straightforward as Chan teaching. Thus Buddhism gradually flourished while Daoism declined, and the Great Dao grew dimmer day by day.

In the year of Jiazi, while I was serving as superintendent at Jiao’ao, I began to study the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) tradition. Official duties were heavy, however, and I could not give the matter my full attention, so I gained little from it. Later, to escape the noise and bustle, I went to the former capital. By chance I bought Yiguan Tianji Zhijiang (Direct Exposition of the Consistent Heavenly Mechanism) in a bookshop. After reading it, I learned that the book was the latest lecture notes compiled in the Jiazi year of the Republic by the true person Wei Zhezhi of Western Shu, when he taught the Way in Beijing. It gives detailed commentary on the essentials of the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—and on the profound meaning of scriptures from each tradition, with explanations so thorough that the work is rare among Daoist books through the ages. It clarifies the secret essentials and oral formulas needed for true cultivation, and the hidden language and deep meaning in Daoist and Buddhist classics concerning the pre-heaven and post-heaven realms, so that readers can grasp them at a glance. It can serve as an important guide for those who cultivate without a living master. If one devoutly practices according to its methods, one may not only extend life and ward off decline but even hope to be enrolled in the registers of immortals.

I had intended to publish the book early so it could spread widely and help restore the morals of the age. But one page was missing from the commentary on the seventeenth section of the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) in volume three, which was regrettable and left the treatment incomplete. I searched for several years without finding it, and had no choice but to leave that section blank and publish the rest first. What was most remarkable was that on the day before typesetting, the shop clerk Li Qun, Wenhao, happened to find a damaged copy of the third fascicle at a street stall outside Desheng Gate—and the missing commentary on the seventeenth section of the Yinfu Jing was intact within it. Receiving it was like obtaining a treasure; I immediately copied it into the manuscript and sent it to the printers. Unless the spirits had secretly protected the work, how could matters have gone so smoothly?

The day before the Start of Winter, in the thirty-first year of the Republic, the year of Xinsi.

Second Preface

For more than twenty years I have looked up to the profound and true Dao (the deep, authentic Way spoken of in Daoist teaching). The alchemical scriptures and Daoist classics I have read mostly employ cryptic language and obscure phrasing, and are genuinely hard to understand. Could it be that those who wrote them feared passing the classics to unsuitable readers, and therefore hid the teaching behind metaphor so it would not be exposed too easily?

Master Gao Ding’an of Penglai has devoted himself to Daoist learning and the profound and true Dao for over twenty years. The alchemical scriptures and Daoist classics he has read are likewise often couched in hidden speech and are taxing to work through.

After years of study, Master Gao cultivates body and mind in daily life and has deeply grasped the way of nurturing authenticity (yangzhen). Though nearly seventy, he looks like a man of about forty. His attainment is deep enough to serve as a model for those who study the Way. He has collected many Daoist works old and new, including rare editions. I have often been honored to borrow books from him and have gained much. Among them, Yiguan Tianji Zhijiang (Direct Explanation of the Consistent Heavenly Mechanism) especially deserves to be called a model of modern Daoist books. It is a pity that the original printing is faint and the edition hard to obtain, so one cannot buy it and read it at leisure—a real regret.

This book explains the stages of practice clearly and in full, step by step, without ambiguity. Confucians who read it can exhaust principle and fully clarify their nature, and become sages; Buddhists can illuminate mind and see nature, and become buddhas; Daoists can refine truth and nurture nature, and become immortals. If we practice according to what it teaches, those who live in the world can grasp the authentic transmission of sages and fulfill the human Way of self-cultivation, family harmony, governing the state, and bringing peace to all under heaven; those who seek the path of leaving the world can grasp the subtlety of immortals and buddhas and put into practice the heavenly Way of emptiness and pure stillness (xuwu qingjing).

This is a learning that runs through the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism: though the paths differ, in the end they return to the one great Dao (the Way). Vast and subtle principles are all discussed in this book, enough to guide those who study the Way.

In the past you applied yourself diligently to affairs of state, holding office in charge of communications and education, and were known at home and abroad for work that benefited the people. Recently you have withdrawn to quiet retirement, yet while nurturing body and mind you still carry the wish to help the world. You have now collated and revised this book and generously funded its printing so that it may circulate widely. I am convinced that once this work is widely disseminated, the profound and true Dao—the deep, authentic Way spoken of in the tradition—will shine forth ever more clearly. Those who have wandered onto crooked paths may return to what is right; those who are confused may awaken, and need not stray into side paths and come to harm. Its benefit to the temper of the age and the hearts of people is deep and great. I respectfully offer these words as a preface.

Recorded with care after the beginning of winter in the xinsi year by the later student Ye Yian.

At the opening of Yiguan Tianji Zhijiang (Direct Explanation of the Consistent Heavenly Mechanism)

The Great Dao has long gone unrecognized by people. The worthy often overshoot the mark, while those of ordinary capacity fall short; the Great Dao has also long been hard to put into practice. The clever frequently go too far, the dull cannot reach it at all. Whether one overshoots or falls short, both miss the middle way.

The Great Dao has always lain in zhongyong—the doctrine of what is unbiased, ordinary, and fitting—not in something abstruse and hard to practice. Hence Confucius was called a sage who could stay centered and act appropriately in every situation. The Great Learning and Doctrine of the Mean are the classic statements through which the Confucian sages transmitted the method of the heart-mind; they do not change through the ages. Precisely because zhongyong is plain and everyday, people seldom truly grasp it. Even someone as bright as Yan Hui or Min Ziqian needed a teacher’s guidance before they could see its meaning. That is why sages of the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—all use the character for “center” (zhong) to stand for the root principle.

“Zhong” is the constant principle under heaven: not leaning to either side is called zhong; not changing is called yong. The Book of Changes says: “Qian manifests through ease and clarity; Kun accomplishes things through simplicity.” Here “ease” and “simplicity” are zhongyong. The way of zhongyong is right in daily life—hence the saying: “The common people use it every day without knowing it.” This principle can be spoken of, yet it is not the ordinary kind of talk that could exhaust the constant Dao; it is both the human way and the way of heaven. Heaven, receiving this Dao, is clear; earth, receiving it, is at peace; valleys, receiving it, are filled; humans, receiving it, live long; rulers, receiving it, become the rightful lords of all under heaven.

Laozi said: “Obtain the one, and all things are complete.” “One” here means unique and supreme; it also points to Taiyi, Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), and the state in which “the one is numinous.” The root of the ten thousand things is not divided in two, so its power to generate them is unfathomably deep. Zengzi said: “My way is threaded through by a single fundamental principle.” “One” is the state before heaven and earth and yin and yang had split apart; it is also the original qi that gave rise to heaven, earth, humanity, and the ten thousand things: in Taiji it is called original qi; in heaven it appears as empty spirit; on earth as steadfast origin and generating life; in humans who receive it, it becomes nature and life (xing and ming). This is the Dao. Act in accord with it, fully receive it, and fully return it—the Dao is there. This is higher De (virtue/power) and the work of the yuan dun (direct, complete) path.

As for lower De, one must obtain it through cultivation. What is cultivation?

To cultivate this path of nature and life (xingming), the very word “cultivation” (xiu) implies established methods and transmission from master to disciple; hence it is also called a “teaching” (jiao)—a graded path of practice. In truth, heaven and earth never for a moment depart from the Dao; without the Dao, heaven and earth would collapse. Human beings likewise cannot leave the Dao for an instant; without it, life cannot be sustained. Ordinary people are confined by the six faculties of perception—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—and by the seven emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire. Though they live within the Dao day after day, they do not know it, just as fish swim in water every day yet remain unaware of the water.

Our country took the Dao as the foundation of teaching. Confucianism and Daoism originally shared one source and had no fixed ritual forms. From the Qin and Han onward the two gradually diverged: Confucians developed their own robes and caps, while the Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang established vestments for the Daoist tradition. The “Treatise on Literature” in the Book of Han (Hanshu), the section that catalogues texts by category, began to record Confucian and Daoist teachings separately, and religious forms gradually took shape. After Buddhism entered China, the three traditions came to be called the “Three Teachings.” Later, Confucian learning leaned toward philological commentary and literary ornament, Daoism sank into talismans, registers, and incantations (fulu), and Buddhism drifted toward fasting, precepts, and recitation—so the original meaning of the great Dao was obscured. Islam and Christianity from the West were added afterward, making five teachings in all.

Examined impartially, the principles of the five teachings largely converge. Regrettably, adherents of each often seek the Way only in outward forms and appearances, failing to grasp zhongyong—the principle of centeredness and appropriateness, neither excess nor deficiency—which is precisely why the world falls into disorder.

In the present age, when the world reaches its utmost limit, change must occur; only after change can there be thorough penetration. Many people in our country align themselves with the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—and seek the learning of nature and life (the cultivation of life and true nature). Yet they often stray into heterodox paths or fall into outer ways. Others remain at shallow levels of form-and-appearance practice, or recite Buddha’s name, chant sutras, perform repentance, or pray to the Dipper for blessings—already far from the Dao, let alone the supreme vehicle of the primordial Great Dao.

I, Wei Yao, have been fortunate under heaven’s protection to hear subtle teachings from a genuine master, and to compare and verify them against the classics of the three teachings, gaining a modest understanding which I dare not hoard. Therefore I gather like-minded companions to discuss together and clarify the true meaning of alchemical texts and Buddhist scriptures, lest later generations be misled. By former custom, such disclosure would smack of revealing heaven’s secrets; yet in today’s world, when great principle is lost and subtle words have ceased, there is truly no choice but to speak.

I have carefully set forth the firing process (the timing and stages of internal alchemy) item by item, rearranged the original order, and made certain passages somewhat obscure, so that learners may verify for themselves. I hope fellow practitioners will cultivate with caution and not spread or leak these teachings lightly. Moreover, this path of cultivation necessarily brings verification: those with deep wisdom-root may suddenly transcend and reach the supreme realm directly; those of duller root may gradually awaken to completeness and in the end attain great awakening (complete enlightenment) together. How could this be compared with worldly societies, gatherings, and the mere transmission of doctrine?

After the winter solstice in the year jiazi, the later-awakened Daoist Wei Yao wrote this himself.

Yiguan Tianji Zhijiang, Volume One

First Lecture

Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li (four hexagrams in the Yijing, often symbolizing heaven and earth and the water and fire of yin-yang) are the bellows of heaven and earth’s operation; within inner and outer emptiness, the hub and axle turn.

The Bagua (Eight Trigrams) are divided into prior heaven and posterior heaven, so the Qian and Kun trigrams likewise appear as prior-heaven Qian and Kun and posterior-heaven Qian and Kun. Prior heaven addresses the root substance; posterior heaven addresses function and effect. What we call “Qian” and “Kun” are simply one Yin and one Yang; they arise from Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Taiji arises from Wuji (the Non-Ultimate), which in itself is utterly empty and without content.

When Wuji gives birth to Taiji, the root still has no concrete things; its image is ○. When Taiji moves, it produces a single Qi (the primordial breath that constitutes the myriad things); its image is ⊙. It still has no form—you cannot see it or hear it—and this is the one Yang Qi. When the formless Qi is full, formed qi appears; when it settles, Yin also comes into being. The formless Qi, light and clear, rises to become Heaven and belongs to Qian; the formed qi, heavy and turbid, condenses and sinks to become Earth and belongs to Kun. Once Heaven and Earth are established, the dual Yin-Yang modes are fixed.

Heaven is above, Earth below, and between them is empty space. That empty space is still a Taiji. Without Qi and without qi, together with Heaven made of formless Qi and Earth made of formed qi, these make three—but in the end the three are still one body. Heaven and Earth are separated by eighty-four thousand li; at the midpoint, twenty-four thousand li from each, lies precisely that vacuum, forming a Taiji called the “great central pole,” also named “the heart of Heaven and Earth,” abbreviated “Heart of Heaven,” and again called “the heart of the Dao.”

After the dual modes separate, Yin and Yang stir each other; Qi and qi intermingle, and further differentiate into the Four Images. Yang wraps Yin: outside is formless Qi, inside is formed qi—this shapes the sun. Yin wraps Yang: outside is formed qi, inside is formless Qi—this shapes the moon.

Between heaven and earth and between sun and moon there is still a “center”—the hub of the Great Void’s Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the origin of the cosmos. Heaven, earth, sun, and moon together are called the “five”; the “five” fold back into the “three,” and the “three” fold back into the “one.” Guangchengzi once taught the Yellow Emperor the Way of Three-One (the principle of returning three to one); the Understanding Reality (Wu Zhen Pian) says, “The three words ‘three-five-one’—through the ages, those who truly grasp them have been few,” meaning the same thing.

“One” is the Taiji before heaven and earth have divided; “three” is the Taiji after heaven and earth have divided; “five” is the Taiji once the Four Images (the four phases formed when yin and yang further transform) are established. Taiji contains heaven and earth, and heaven and earth contain Taiji.

Take an egg as an illustration: inside the egg is a small hollow space, pale yellow in color; around it first comes the yellow yolk, then the white albumen, and at both ends of the egg there are hollow spaces as well. The hollow in the middle stands for the Taiji within; yolk and white stand for heaven and earth; the hollows at the two ends stand for the Taiji that wraps the outside. This is only borrowing one thing for explanation. The arising and transformation of the myriad things between heaven and earth all follow the same pattern as creation: each begins from emptiness at the center and is layered outward step by step. Embryos of animals and seeds of plants are the same. From this one can see how marvelous creation is.

Those who cultivate the Dao should look up to heaven-and-earth’s creation and take it as the rule of practice: return from “four” to “two,” from “two” to “one”; return from the substantial to the void, from the post-heaven to the pre-heaven. All of this work must start from the place of emptiness and return to the root of Taiji.

Sages of the three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—all use the word for “center” to stand for Taiji and to express the substance of the void. The body of Taiji is written as a circle; when the vertical stroke that stands for principle and qi is placed inside it, it becomes the character for “center.” “Center” carries the sense of void and of penetrating through; two “center” graphs combined make the character guan (penetrating thread). In antiquity the shape of the character guan resembled…

Those who cultivate the Dao must discern the “center” within themselves and the “center” beyond themselves, and unite these two “centers”—only then is it called “penetrating through.” This is what is meant by “My Dao is held together by one thread that runs through it,” and in this way one grasps the way of Zhongyong (the Doctrine of the Mean).

“Center” also carries the sense of upright and unbiased. Whatever has physical form is limited and partial and cannot be absolutely straight and true; only what is empty, vast without bound, and subtle without inner limit is most centrally balanced and free of bias. Therefore the empty “great center, utmost rectitude” can help one understand the way of Zhongyong and, from there, apprehend the substance of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the root source that underlies all things in the cosmos.

The Cantong qi (Commentary on the Unity of the Three), a classic of ancient Daoist alchemy, states: “Qian and Kun are the gateway of the Yijing (Book of Changes), and the root of all hexagrams.” Qian represents Yang; Yang qi is formless, so it is shown by a single line. Kun represents Yin; Yin qi has form, so it is shown by two horizontal lines. Three lines form the Qian hexagram, symbolizing Heaven; six lines form the Kun hexagram, symbolizing Earth. The myriad things arise from “three”; “three” also carries the meaning of completion, symbolizing beginning and end, hence three lines compose one trigram.

When Qian and Kun interact, the Li and Kan trigrams are formed; when Heaven and Earth unite, Sun and Moon arise. Qian and Kun take Li and Kan as their function; Heaven and Earth take Sun and Moon as their function. What is the Yijing? It is Sun and Moon. Daoists call it Dan (the Elixir), because the character dan looks like the sun above and the moon below; Buddhists call it Ming (luminosity), because the character ming combines “sun” on the left and “moon” on the right; Confucians call it Yi (Change), also seeing it as Sun and Moon. Yi, Ming, and Dan point to one and the same principle.

The function of Heaven and Earth is displayed through the movement of Sun and Moon. As Sun and Moon rise, fall, and cycle, cold and heat alternate and divide into the four seasons. The growth and transformation of the myriad things are completed as they follow the turning of the seasons.

The east belongs to Wood qi, corresponding to spring. Wood has the nature of growth and propagation, so the myriad things sprout; the south belongs to Fire qi, corresponding to summer. Fire tends upward and burns, so the myriad things grow; the west belongs to Metal qi, corresponding to autumn. Metal has the power to slay the myriad things, so they wither; the north belongs to Water qi, corresponding to winter. Water symbolizes storage, so the myriad things lie hidden and rest. These are the qi of the Five Phases in their pre-heaven order. Here the ancient Hetu (River Chart)—a diagram using numbers to express the relations of Heaven and Earth and Yin-Yang—is taken as proof: two and seven occupy the south, facing forward; one and six occupy the north, at the rear; three and eight occupy the east, on the left; four and nine occupy the west, on the right; five and ten occupy the center.

One and six correspond to Ren Water and Gui Water in the north; two and seven correspond to Bing Fire and Ding Fire in the south; three and eight correspond to Jia Wood and Yi Wood in the east; four and nine correspond to Geng Metal and Xin Metal in the west; five and ten correspond to Wu Earth and Ji Earth at the center. The “five” at the center symbolizes Taiji (Supreme Ultimate): it lies among the Four Images, empty and formless within, yet holding subtle vitality; it also symbolizes Taiji enveloping the primordial Qi (yuanqi, the original vital energy of the cosmos).

Speaking from the moment when the myriad things begin to be generated: the yang qi produced by Heavenly One is moist and still in nature and is called water; it is stored in the north. The north belongs to the Kun direction, symbolizing ending and beginning, hence it corresponds to winter. In winter the myriad things are stored away; this is the root on which all things depend for their sprouting. The yin qi produced by Earthly Two is upward-rising and active in nature and is called fire; it appears in the south. The south belongs to the Qian direction, symbolizing supreme honor, hence it corresponds to summer. In summer the myriad things grow and flourish; this is when the ten thousand forms mutually appear and brightness thrives.

The “three” in the east combines Heavenly One and Earthly Two and governs generation; its climate is mild, hence it corresponds to spring and carries the virtue of warmth and benevolence. The “four” in the west is formed from the merging of water and fire qi and governs killing and restraint; its climate is cool, hence it corresponds to autumn and carries the virtue of severity and firmness. When qi surges and circulates, wind arises; the winds of east, south, west, and north each follow their nature, so the changes of generation, growth, killing, and storage accord with their respective qualities.

Metal, wood, water, and fire occupy the four directions; the space at the center is called “five,” that is, earth qi. Earth flourishes in all four seasons and is stored within metal, wood, water, and fire. The myriad things are born in space and also rely on space to be established; among the myriad things there is nothing without space. Thus earth qi moves through the Four Images and is present everywhere. This is the Five Phases in the process of pre-heaven generation.

Among heaven, earth, and the myriad things, the Five Forms are water, fire, wood, stone, and earth; in the human person, what corresponds to them are the Five Constants: benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness.

Benevolence springs from one’s inborn nature; when the heart is sincere within, sincerity shows outwardly, like the generative qi of the east symbolized by “three births.” Righteousness arises from feeling; when the outer world stirs one, the heart responds from within, like the firm, rectifying qi of the west symbolized by “four.” Propriety comes from the heart and appears outwardly as fitting measure and ritual form, like fire in the south symbolized by “two.” Wisdom shows from oneself and inwardly holds the power to adapt flexibly, like water in the north symbolized by “one.”

Trustworthiness matches the center, and its working is deep and subtle. Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom all depend on trustworthiness to stand. Trustworthiness is the root of establishing the person, like earth at the center, strong through all four seasons. For this reason, what practice calls “true intention” is named “true earth”—the true master of dual cultivation of nature and life.

Why is it called the "gateway" (the root of yin-yang's entry and exit and of change and movement)? One may compare the cosmos to a house: Qian and Kun are like the doorframe that supports the gateway; the sun and moon pass through it in their course. The growth and change of the ten thousand things depend on the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); the waxing and waning of the Five Phases are tied to the sun and moon's motion. When sun and moon rise and set, day and night are divided; when they go and come, cold and heat take shape.

On the winter solstice, the sun and moon's positions cross: the sun is above and the moon below. The moon receives the sun's light, and yang qi begins to sprout. Yang grows from one yang to two yang, three yang; at its peak it turns and declines. At the summer solstice, sun and moon cross in the east-west direction; the sun absorbs the moon's qi, and yin qi begins to sprout. Yin grows from one yin to two yin, three yin; after decline yang returns, and the cycle repeats until the next winter solstice. The sun completes one circuit of the heavens (one round of the celestial body) in a year; the moon completes roughly one circuit in a month. This motion of sun and moon embodies the waxing and waning of yin and yang qi: a gateway that opens must also close—hence it is called the "gateway."

Qian and Kun are also "the parents of all hexagrams." Qian is the root of all yang and symbolizes the father; Kun is the root of all yin and symbolizes the mother. When Qian and Kun unite and yin-yang interact, male and female arise. Following the order of changing lines, Qian successively combines with Kun to form Xun (eldest daughter), Li (middle daughter), and Dui (youngest daughter); Kun successively combines with Qian to form Zhen (eldest son), Kan (middle son), and Gen (youngest son). This is the account of three daughters and three sons—from the sequence of the lines.

If one speaks from the order in which Qian and Kun's qi interact, Kan and Li come first, then Gen and Dui, and lastly Zhen and Xun. After the six child hexagrams appear, Qian and Kun, like aged parents, withdraw to the northwest and southwest, while the middle son Kan and middle daughter Li take the central roles. Hence it is said: "Qian and Kun are the substance; Kan and Li are the function." Li is yang outside and yin within, symbolizing the sun; Kan is yin outside and yang within, symbolizing the moon. Once heaven and earth are established, the gateway is opened for the sun and moon to run and drive the generation and change of the ten thousand things—this is the meaning of "function."

When the eight trigrams are paired, they form the sixty-four hexagrams with three hundred eighty-four lines in all. Tracing from the tip back to the root and from appearance to origin, every line and hexagram stems from the two hexagrams Qian and Kun—that is, from the two kinds of line, one yin and one yang. So it is said: "Qian and Kun are the parents of all hexagrams."

We can also clarify this through what Qian, Kun, Li, and Kan mean in the human body. Qian Heaven stands for innate nature (xing); Kun Earth for innate life-destiny (ming). Nature is the root of life; life-destiny is the foundation of life. Li stands for acquired nature; Kan for acquired life-destiny.

The Huangting Jing opens: “Above is the hun-soul; below is the guanyuan; left is shaoyang, right is taiyin. Behind is the secret gate; before is the gate of life; the moon rises and the sun sets, breath and respiration mutually sustain each other.” It names six directions—above, below, front, back, left, right—and implicitly includes a “center.” That center is emptiness (xukong).

The vast great void (the emptiness of the cosmos) takes heaven and earth as its true womb-body, and the sun and moon as its true breath. The sun and moon rise and fall as if the great void were breathing. Human breath is analogous; what is refined in the interval between in-breath and out-breath may also be called “sun and moon,” or Kan and Li. Kan and Li are acquired nature and life-destiny.

In the body, the Qian–Kun gates are above and below. In neidan practice, Qian is also likened to the cauldron (ding) and Kun to the furnace (lu): the great void is the Qian cauldron; the supreme ultimate (taiji) is the Kun furnace. The void within the person is the great void; the empty aperture within the body (the “spirit-empty” aperture spoken of in inner practice) is taiji. Thus the body’s eight gates and nine apertures are all treated as gates and all return to taiji.

The Daode Jing says: “Constantly without desire, observe the subtle; constantly with desire, observe the aperture.” Here “subtle” (miao) means the great void; “aperture” (qiao) means taiji. The method of contemplation: let not a single thought arise—to observe the “subtle”; let mind-intent not scatter—to observe the “aperture.” “Without desire” and “with desire” here mean a mind without arising thought and mind-intent held in single focus—not whether one has or lacks desiring thoughts.

When the practitioner sits in stillness in the chamber, letting spirit (shen) and qi (vital energy) depend on each other and gather as one, in time mind returns to primordial chaos and enters a state of non-attachment. That is “not a single thought arising”—then one may observe the “subtle.” Only eliminate restless thoughts; do not eliminate the mind of clear awareness. Maintain clarity without display, spirit without forced use—outwardly seeming without knowledge or sensation, inwardly still with knowing. Without deliberately adding anything, awakened illumination is naturally bright. That is “mind-intent not scattering”—then one may observe the “aperture.”

The person’s subtle aperture is the xuan guan (mysterious pass). The xuan guan is the most arcane pivot between heaven and earth. The vast void of heaven and earth and the small void of the human body connect through the gates, mutually penetrating and breathing together. The image is as set out below.

Practitioners who set up the furnace and erect the cauldron here also follow a certain sequence. The vast emptiness of the cosmos and the small emptiness within the human body connect through gateways that link and breathe together. Their symbolic correspondences are as follows:

To set up the furnace and erect the cauldron, one first returns the light and looks inward (gathering spirit and mind to observe within): moving from activity toward stillness until reaching utmost stillness, at which point the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) furnace is laid as foundation. One then enters the hongmeng state of vagueness (where consciousness and discrimination grow dim), returning from mixture toward emptiness until reaching the utmost void, and the image of the Great Void cauldron appears. In this way the work of setting up the furnace and erecting the cauldron is complete.

Wu Chongxu (a master of Daoist Neidan) said: “The cauldron was never a solid cauldron to begin with, and the furnace is not one made of jade.” Cauldron and furnace are symbolic images only, not physical implements. From ancient times to the present, those who have misunderstood furnace and cauldron are beyond counting. The principle is spelled out here on purpose; those who understand should know where to begin in cultivation.

In the pre-heaven Bagua (Eight Trigrams), Qian is in the south and Kun in the north, Li in the east and Kan in the west. South is above and north below, so heaven and earth each hold their proper place; east is to the left and west to the right, marking the course of sun and moon. Yin and Yang each follow their own pattern; the firm and the yielding work together, and so the ten thousand things can be born and transformed.

Primordial Qian is the root from which all things begin. Qian in the south is like a ruler seated facing south, yet without deliberate action (wuwei). Primordial Kun is the root of all growth, receiving heaven’s De (Virtue/Power) in quiet yielding. The sun rises in the east and the moon moves westward; through this alternation the scene of transformation and birth appears. Heaven and earth themselves are wuwei, while sun and moon keep moving. The sage watches their coming and going and grasps how fullness and depletion shift between heaven and earth. Confucius said: “What has heaven ever said? The four seasons turn as always, and the ten thousand things are born as always” (see Analects, “Yang Huo”).

The process by which heaven and earth transform and give birth cannot be seen, but the turning of sun and moon can. Hence in the post-heaven Bagua, Kan and Li are placed on the north–south axis, while Qian and Kun withdraw to positions where they do not visibly act. This is the idea that heaven and earth are the substance and sun and moon are the function. The Cantong qi says: “Kan and Li frame the compass; they turn the hub and align the axle. The four trigrams as male and female serve as the bellows.” Here it is the role of sun and moon that is meant.

Heaven and earth are like a gateway, still and unmoving; sun and moon revolve in the void. One qi cycles through—small scales such as day and night and the moon’s phases, larger ones such as spring and autumn and cold and heat, and still larger spans such as yuan, hui, yun, and shi—through countless kalpas without losing order. The waxing and waning of the ten thousand things happens of itself; there is no visible master, yet the void seems to carry the master’s role, and so it is called “numinous emptiness” (xuling).

“Bellows” (tuo yue) is a figure for the fire-bellows: the box is hollow inside; the tuo is the part that draws air, the yue the empty chamber. Pulling sends qi outward; pushing sends it inward; out and in make the fire blaze. When exit and entry are even, the furnace stays strong—neither overheated nor extinguished. One who smelts metal relies on such timing to melt the ore.

Sun and moon moving between heaven and earth are like heaven and earth breathing; the rise and fall of qi is thereby naturally balanced—is this not just like a bellows? The void between heaven and earth is where qi moves and where things flourish and wither. What harmonizes these patterns if not the work of the void? Heaven above, earth below; sun east, moon west: above and below are like the doors of the bellows, left and right like its frame. Sun and moon ebb and flow in their course, also like the bellows opening and closing at will. So the text says: “Empty and not filled; in motion it constantly gives rise to effect.”

Qian and Kun fix the vertical positions; Kan and Li stand as the left and right frame. The four trigrams divide into yin and yang, female and male, interact, and both initiate and nurture the ten thousand things and lay the ground for all transformation. Wei Boyang used “frame the compass” (kuang kuo) for this, vividly depicting how the void gives birth to the mystery of the ten thousand things.

The human body is like a small cosmos. When a person first receives qi and comes to life, they resonate with the Great Void—the vast root of the cosmos—and receive their innate nature, much as stars and constellations take shape in the heavens; following the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), life is established, much as the ten thousand things take form upon the earth. Once the body is fully formed, each inhalation and exhalation is one cycle of breath.

The sun and moon complete one circuit in three hundred sixty-five degrees; yin and yang rise and fall altogether one hundred thirty-five thousand times. In a single day and night, human breath also amounts to thirteen thousand five hundred breaths. Over a year, the sun and moon traverse one circuit of heaven; in a day and night, human breath traverses one circuit of heaven.

The twenty-four solar terms and the seventy-two hou—the seasonal divisions and natural signs of the traditional calendar—correspond to the meridians and joints of the human body. The coming and going of breath also constantly connects with the Great Void of heaven and earth. Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li—the trigrams that stand for heaven and earth, water and fire, and the shifts of yin and yang—are already present in the human body from the start. When you understand how gates and boundaries are formed and how they work, the Dao is right there.

The Cantong qi says: “The principle of Yin-Yang covering and joining is like a charioteer who follows plumb line and inked rule, holds reins and bridle, keeps to measure, and travels along the rut; grasp the center to regulate outward movement, and the pattern of that movement appears in the calendar and the seasonal nodes.” This passage further clarifies the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, and the roles of the Kan and Li qi—the two kinds of qi that stand for water and fire, Yin and Yang.

The shift in which yin qi descends and yang qi rises can be seen in the hexagrams Fu and Gou, and also read from the twenty-four solar terms and the seventy-two pentads (the phenological subdivisions within those terms). Confucius therefore said: “In Fu, the vitality of Heaven and Earth is revealed, is it not?” When he commented on the third line of Qian, he also said: “All day long diligent without slack—this is repeated practice of the correct Way.” Observing law in the alternation of stillness and movement in qi can be extended to the year’s cycle. The calendar itself was fashioned from this kind of change.

Here the chariot serves as a metaphor, drawing on Laozi: “Thirty spokes share one hub.” The hub is the hollow through which the axle passes. The cart advances by its wheels; the wheels are linked by the axle; the axle can turn and run only because of the empty space inside the hub. Without that void, the cart cannot move; even with wheels and ruts, they would be useless.

The Cantong qi takes the axle as the image of upright standard, while the real pivot of operation lies in the hub—hence “holding the center to regulate the outward.” It is also like sun and moon moving through empty space, thereby giving rise to the four seasons. All things have a center; what is called “center” is correctness, neither leaning nor straying. Tangible things can hardly stay perfectly straight and unbiased; only the emptiness within things can remain upright without being blocked by externals. The vast openness between Heaven and Earth, and the inner void within the myriad things, may all be called “center.” The still, empty center holds the possibility from which the myriad things are generated and transformed—so the sages of the three teachings all speak of “center.” The cauldron of the great void and the furnace of the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) both take “center” as their core. The human “center” communicates with the “center” of Heaven and Earth; therefore a person can draw in the spirit and qi of Heaven and Earth and transform them into one’s own spirit and qi.

Within heaven, earth, and the myriad things, all are pervaded by human innate nature; therefore heaven, earth, and the myriad things can draw upon human shen (spirit) and qi (vital energy), so that people pass through birth, aging, illness, and death. Human beings likewise pervade heaven and earth, and so can take in the shen and qi of heaven and earth and transform them into one’s own shen and qi. Each person has a Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) of their own, and each thing in the myriad world has a Taiji of its own. If one nurtures it well, one can stand alongside heaven and earth and nourish the myriad things: when mind-intent opens and spreads, it can fill the four quarters of heaven and earth; when it gathers and contracts, it can withdraw and lodge in the hidden and subtle. Hence Mencius said, “All things are complete in my mind!” (see Mencius, “Jin xin shang”).

Taiji is originally one, yet has wondrous efficacy. Zisi said, “As the root of the myriad things, it is not twofold; yet its power to generate and transform the myriad things is unfathomably deep” (see the Doctrine of the Mean). What is this root that can generate the myriad things and act without limit? It is the matchless Taiji that stands alone. Taiji gives birth to the Two Modes—Yin-Yang—namely qi in the sense of primordial yuan qi and qi as the circulating, changing breath. Yin and Yang interact and further give rise to the Four Images and the Eight Trigrams, on to countless transformations; all of this is called “number.” Number arises from the pairing of yin and yang; as heaven and earth divide, number comes into being. Thus the Book of Changes says, “Take heaven as three, take earth as two, and thereby establish the rule of number.”

The sun and moon run their course through long ages without losing order; yin and yang qi wax and wane, ebb and flow, never missing the seasons. This is because number regulates them, and from this calendars and pitch standards are established. Only pre-heaven Taiji lies beyond the reach of number—it is the beginning of heaven and earth; post-heaven Taiji (the root between heaven and earth) also lies beyond number—it is the mother of the myriad things. From the Taiji that can be named, one returns to the nameless Taiji—this is “holding to simplicity and returning to truth” (baopu fanzhen), also called “returning to the root and restoring life” (gui gen fu ming). This is why the Dao is the Dao, and these are the two sides that must be held together in cultivating the marvelous aperture (miao qiao).

Scriptures on the elixir say: “Where Qian and Kun unite is the true center.” Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir says: “This aperture is no ordinary aperture; it is formed by the union of Qian and Kun, yin and yang, and is called the aperture of spirit and qi (shénqì xué); within it lies the essence of Kan and Li.” Bai Yuchan said: “This single aperture of the mysterious pass (xuánguān) is the true center.”

What is meant by “mysterious pass” is the place where yin and yang meet; it also denotes the cauldron-furnace (dǐnglú)—the site in internal alchemy (Neidan) where body and mind are transformed—and corresponds to the Great Void and Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) shown in the preceding diagram. Where the mysterious female and male (xuánpìn) join is the true center, namely the mysterious pass.

The Laozi says: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name. The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth; the named is the mother of the ten thousand things. Therefore, constantly without desire, one observes its marvels; constantly with desire, one observes its manifestations. ‘Non-being’ and ‘being’ issue from the same source but differ in name; both may be called mysterious. Mystery upon mystery is the gateway to manifold wonders.” This is precisely what is meant.

The changing movement of the ten thousand things never departs from this center; subtle being and empty non-being fundamentally share one gate. The outline of the gate-and-door establishes the whole; the empty valley nurtures things and lets its function unfold. How vast is the meaning of Taiji!

Lecture Two

When you intend to nurture the heart-mind, extend life, and hope to transcend death,

from birth you receive primordial qi (yuán qì)—the starting point of cultivating the Dao.

Practitioners of the Way set up the “furnace and cauldron” (luding)—the symbolic vessels used in elixir work—to train the “true sun and moon” within the body. The sun and moon stand for the yin-yang qi represented by the hexagrams Kan (☵) and Li (☲). When Kan and Li interact, an elixir can form; when Qian (☰) and Kun (☷) interact, the great elixir is achieved.

Cultivation moves in stages: refining jing (essence) into qi (vital energy), qi into shen (spirit), and shen back into emptiness—that is, returning from Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) to Wuji (the formless ultimate). Refining the “outer medicine” completes the ming (life) side of dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu), bringing it back to Taiji. Refining the “inner medicine” completes the xing (nature) side, bringing it back to Wuji. The Cantong Qi (Scripture of the Unity of the Three), often called The Contract (Qi), says that if one wishes to cultivate one’s nature and extend life, one must… To extend life one must seek the “treasure of life” (mingbao); to cultivate nature one must restore the original state of empty stillness and clear, luminous spirit.

The human form shifts from pre-heaven to post-heaven, just as Qian and Kun become Kan and Li. The single yang line of Qian falls into Kan; that yang is called “Qian metal” and is the “treasure of life.” “Extracting from Kan to fill Li” (qu kan tian li) means taking that treasure from Kan and replenishing Li. The yin line in Li then returns to the middle place in Kan, so Qian and Kun are whole again. At that point the ming work in dual cultivation is finished.

To grasp this principle, we must first clarify the order in which heaven and earth and the myriad things come into being, and the process by which a human is conceived and born.

The generation of heaven, earth, and the myriad things proceeds as follows: from Taiji (the primordial state before things are differentiated) arises Taichu; from Taichu arise Taishi, Taiyi, and Taisu. Taishi is when qi first appears; Taiyi is when form first appears; Taisu is when concrete matter first appears. The “xiang” (image) spoken of here is light; light belongs to fire, so the beginning of xiang is yang fire. Qi contains moisture; moisture is the beginning of water qi, that is, yin water. Substance changes with time, so it is the root of the endless growth of the myriad things; the beginning of form corresponds to wood. Matter has body and is solid and hard to change, so it corresponds to metal—the beginning of substance is metal. With fire, water, wood, and metal in place, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are established; at first they were fused into one—that fusion is Taiji.

Taiji is originally empty void, yet it can give rise to wondrous being; heaven and earth take shape from this. Tanzi said: “Gather emptiness together and it becomes substance; when you see substance, you do not see emptiness. Break substance apart and it becomes emptiness; when you see emptiness, you do not see substance.” Empty void and wondrous being differ only in name; in essence they share one source. Between them lies “one,” and within “one” there is “center.” This is the principle of Taiji.

The beginning of human life follows the same pattern: from non-being to being, from Taiji the Five Phases arise, then the fetus forms and limbs and body take shape.

The process by which a human being first takes shape resembles cosmic genesis: from nothing to something, the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) gives rise to the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and from there an embryo coalesces and a body is formed. Before conception there is nothing at all—a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, namely Wuji (the Limitless). What Daoist scriptures and Buddhist sutras call one’s “original face before one’s parents were born” refers to this condition; the “original face” at the moment parents unite and conception begins is Taiji.

The fetus at first comes from the union of father and mother. When man and woman join, desire stirs, bodies meet, and gradually spirit (shen) also merges. As the body feels pleasure, the minds of both grow empty and still, until they no longer even notice pleasure itself—a “true emptiness” (zhen kong). The scripture explains this visible union by turning it into the image of pure Kun without form: Kun stands for true yin, which alone can draw true yang.

Then the one Qi (yuanqi, the primordial life-breath of Daoism) within the primordial Taiji is aroused; it moves in the formless realm and from emptiness brings forth existence. A bit of true yang Qi rides the void and enters the mother’s body—pregnancy begins. This bit of true yang is “the nature of heaven’s mandate”: in heaven it is called xing (nature); in the person, once life starts to form, it is called ming (destiny).

According to the scripture, man and woman, through the pleasure of union, empty body and mind and first reach Wuji; then their spirit and qi become one as chaotic Taiji, and from true void a point of li-Qi (principle-Qi) appears. For Taiji this is “being from non-being”; for the human body it is being moved and answering. This Qi was originally without form—it is the first life-Qi one senses—so it is named “primordial-before-primordial Qian-yuan true nature.”

When this bit of true yang Qi arises from the void, the spirits of the two have already joined invisibly. The text uses a circular diagram: the empty center stands for this true Qi; the outer ring for spiritual union. Once spirit has merged, the breathing of man and woman also mingles into a lump of formed qi stored between the yin qiao (the Daoist locus in the lower abdomen and perineum). That formed qi draws the image of true yang into itself; it enters and, with the breath, passes into the womb. This clump of qi is called “Kun-yuan true ming”—also “the primordial within the postnatal.”

After the two unite, xing and ming become one; then the father’s jing (essence) and the mother’s blood wrap them from outside, and the root of the fetus is set. The scripture sums the whole gestation in five layers of creation, named Taiji, Taishi, Taichu, Taiyi, and Taisu, represented in the “Ding diagram.”

Jia refers to the primordial One Qi (yuanqi at the origin of the cosmos)—also called the Qiankun true nature—and belongs to “pre-heaven within pre-heaven.” Yi refers to the “qing” (emotion/desire) formed when the parents’ Jing and Shen unite—also called temperament nature (qizhi zhi xing)—and counts as pre-heaven. Bing refers to Qi generated when the parents’ Kan and Li (symbols of yin and yang) condense—also called the Kunchun true ming (life)—and belongs to “pre-heaven within post-heaven.” Ding is the father’s Jing; Wu is the mother’s blood; both belong to post-heaven.

The dashed lines in the diagram indicate emptiness. From this it is clear that the whole has three layers, and the numbers also align with the Five Phases (Wuxing).

The Yi says: “In heaven it forms images; on earth it forms shapes.” Human beings are born in accord with the Great Dao and also follow the pattern of heaven-and-earth creation. Jia and Yi belong to pre-heaven: they have image but not yet solid form, so they are said to be “received from heaven.” Bing and Ding belong to post-heaven: they already have form and substance, so they are said to be “received from earth.” After the fetus’s root is established, what is received from heaven governs movement and stillness in the fetus; what is received from earth clings to pre-heaven Qi and gradually becomes bodily form. When the ways of forming the upper (formless) and lower (formed) are both complete, the fetus keeps growing: the five viscera, six bowels, limbs, and the hundred parts of the body, together with the nine palaces (internal regions or orifices), take shape step by step until a complete human body is formed.

After the fetus forms in the womb, it connects to the mother through the umbilical cord and draws in external Qi through the mother’s breathing—this is post-heaven Qi. Post-heaven Qi enters the abdomen, attaches to pre-heaven One Qi and to Qi that is pre-heaven within post-heaven, so that the fetus “forms images in heaven”; it also nourishes that pre-heaven-within-post-heaven Qi and post-heaven Qi, so that the fetus “forms shapes on earth.” These forces subtly grow and transform in the womb—this is the process from conception and knotting of the embryo to gradual formation in the mother’s belly.

When post-heaven breath is fully gathered, the fetus in the womb completes ten months of gestation and development reaches its limit. When a thing reaches its limit it turns toward exhaustion; at that turning point subtle transformation arises, and after transformation life takes form. The fetus suddenly gains awareness, breaks through the womb, and is born—because the zhongyin (intermediate being) enters the body to preside over its life; at this point shen (spirit) and qi (vital energy) are both complete.

What is zhongyin? What ordinary people call the “soul” is roughly what is meant. Daoists call it yuan jing (the subtle qi that forms the root of life), holding that it carries cognitive awareness and also term it shixing (knowing nature); Buddhists call it zhongyin, holding that it carries karmic roots accumulated from beginningless time; Confucians call it the renxin (human mind), holding that it includes desires such as appetite and sexual attraction. When it attaches to a human body it is called shenhun (spirit-soul); when mixed with worldly emotion it is called shishen (knowing spirit); when adrift in empty space it is called zhongyin. The Shurangama Sutra renders it as zhongyin, perhaps because it belongs to pure yin—a formless body of empty space.

Ordinary people uniformly call it “hun” (soul), which is not really apt. For hun is defined in contrast to po: after this subtle substance enters the human body, its clear, refined aspect becomes hun and its turbid aspect becomes po. At the stage just described, po has not yet formed—how can it be called hun?

Confucian classics also say that when a person dies hun returns to heaven and po returns to earth; that wording too seems to treat “nature” (xing) as hun. Some also speak of three hun, as if one were the unborn and undying self-nature, one the zhongyin that is born and dies, and one the ghost-spirit that undergoes hellish retribution. Later authors often fail to distinguish these usages and mix the terms of the three traditions in one breath, so clarity is hard to achieve. Moreover these labels are not the Dao itself, and there is no need to explain each one in turn.

Human nature, in its original state, is a complete existence lacking nothing, and from the outset there is no birth or death. Daoism says that “every person is fully endowed, each one perfectly complete”; the Heart Sutra says “neither born nor destroyed, neither defiled nor pure, neither increased nor decreased”; and what Confucianism calls the “subtle mind of the Way” (daoxin wei wei) points to this same truth.

What we call “conscious nature” (shixing)—the mind that discriminates and cognizes things—does undergo birth and death. Hence Buddhism takes “transforming consciousness into wisdom” (zhuan shi cheng zhi) as the path of practice, while the Xuan lineage of Daoism (internal alchemy) takes “refining hun and po, transforming the conscious spirit” as its path. The reason the intermediate state (zhongyin, the transitional phase after death and before rebirth) seems to cycle through samsara, as though life never truly ends, is that it still carries karmic roots and emotional consciousness accumulated over many lifetimes. Without these, a person would vanish entirely after death—how then could there be rebirth?

The Surangama Sutra says: “In the intermediate state there is no fixed master; it drifts in empty space and, through responsive contact with the fetus, enters the human body.” The Cantong qi Qianyou commentary says: “When the fetus completes ten months of gestation, a point of primordial jing (yuan jing) arises from pure, formless void and enters the central palace and spirit chamber of the body, becoming master of the self. Hence the Cantong qi says: ‘The bodily form that humans receive originally springs from the One; primordial jing spreads abroad and, relying on Qi, takes on life.’”

When man and woman unite, the fetus responds to the prenatal void Qi and formation begins; after birth it further receives postnatal subtle spiritual Qi and thus grows into a human being. When the ten months of gestation are complete, the postnatal breath supplied through the umbilical cord has fully infused the fetus and activates the inner vacuum. The central palace, originally still and unmoving, is suddenly stirred by this contact—a case of pure yang responding to pure yin of the same kind.

The purely yin qi of the intermediate state (the mental condition of a person after death and before rebirth) drifts in empty space; when it responds to a stimulus, it attaches to a fetus at once, like iron drawn to a magnet or two currents of electricity pulling toward each other, enters the zhonghuang shen chamber (the seat of spirit-qi within the body in this text), and becomes the master of that body.

Once the intermediate state enters, the fetus gains awareness. Awareness governs blood and qi, reaches the four limbs, and the hands and feet begin to move. It is like waking from a deep dream and stretching the limbs, or like falling from a height and being suddenly startled. The fetus then pushes apart with both hands and kicks through the fetal membrane (the sac that encloses the fetus); the feet at once lose their support, balance fails, the body turns head over heels, and the crown opens the birth gate—hence the head comes out first. This is what is meant by “coming forth in reverse.”

However, although the fetus gains awareness because the intermediate state attaches in response, awareness is not clear unless the intermediate state enters a human body. While the intermediate state floats in the air it remains in a dim, undifferentiated state; without the intermediate state, the fetus likewise has no awareness. The intermediate state must rely on the human body and unite with the congenital qi contained in the body’s acquired aspect (called “bing qi” in the text) before awareness can be awakened; it also needs the stirring of acquired qi through breathing before awareness can function. When the three depend on one another, clarity appears; when they separate, each loses its effect. Therefore when a person is about to die, the original qi in the body (also called bing qi in the text) is exhausted and acquired breathing stops; when breathing ceases, the intermediate state leaves the body and disperses without trace. The Daoist books say, “As long as a trace of yang qi remains in the human body, one will not die”—that is the principle meant here.

The above concerns the relation between the intermediate state and the fetus’s body. How nature (xing) and life (ming) within the body separate at this stage, the author will explain next.

The preceding passage describes the outward condition of the fetus’s body. At this stage, xing (nature) and ming (life) within the fetus also separate. What follows explains in detail: at conception, the pre-heaven Qi of primordial Qian (pre-heaven yang) is xing, and the pre-heaven Qi of Kun contained within the post-heaven is ming. As the earlier diagram indicates, xing and ming were originally blended together and jointly govern formless creation and transformation. The breath brought in through the umbilical cord makes them cling to each other, so they gather and do not disperse. The father’s jing (essence) and the mother’s blood then form the visible limbs; by the seventh month of pregnancy, the fetus’s bodily form is fully developed.

When the fetal form is complete, it sits in the womb with both feet drawn up and crossed, heels meeting and pressing firmly on the “Yin Qiao” aperture (the site indicated by the Yin Qiao vessel). Zhang Ziyang’s Eight Vessel Classic says: “Yin Qiao lies below the scrotum and above the anal passage—that is, between the thighs, in the position belonging to the Xun trigram.” The feet belong to the Zhen trigram; Zhen and Xun are adjacent, symbolizing the eldest son paired with the eldest daughter. The fetus’s hands are folded in front of the nose and mouth, so the nose and mouth cannot breathe; it must rely on the umbilical cord for breath. For this reason the hands are called the gate of total holding, and also a person’s guanqiao (critical pass). The hands belong to the Gen trigram; the Dui trigram stands for mouth and tongue, symbolizing the youngest son paired with the youngest daughter. The fetus’s eyes do not look outward and its ears do not listen outward, symbolizing the middle son and middle daughter represented by the Kan and Li trigrams. The navel aperture opens and closes as Qi runs through to the crown; the crown then pulses up and down, symbolizing Qian and Kun and the union of yin and yang. All of this is explained through outward images to show how the pre-heaven Bagua (Eight Trigrams) coordinate and operate.

Inside the body, xing represented by Qian and ming represented by Kun penetrate to the crown; the crown’s up-and-down pulsing likewise symbolizes the union of Qian and Kun and of yin and yang.

When one enters the stage of Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, Qian nature (the yang aspect of one’s original nature) and Kun life-root (the yin foundation of life) both dwell in the central palace (the body’s inner center), mingling into the image of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the undivided whole of yin and yang. After ten lunar months, postnatal Qi (vital energy formed after birth) is full and stirs the central palace; what was originally formless and imageless within Taiji then appears, and once aroused, it begins to act.

Taiji is the One; postnatal Qi is the Two. When the first Qi and the second Qi intermingle, an yin-yang blending state arises—Qi diffuse and yin and yang interpenetrating—and from their union the Three emerges: primordial Jing (essence), and the chaos begins to differentiate. The intermediate consciousness (the awareness between life and death) comes from outside; though one may say it attaches through responsive contact, from the perspective of Taiji it can also be said to be gestated and born—such is the principle.

When the intermediate consciousness enters, it is drawn in by the mutual resonance of yin and yang Qi intermingling; it enters the central palace and rests upon the three Qi, and thereby gains awareness. Once awareness moves, heaven and earth seem to turn over; the central palace where nature and life unite is likewise stirred, as if clouds part and the sun suddenly breaks through. Then clear Qi ascends: the ancestral Qi of Qian (the source Qi of Qian yang, symbolizing original nature) is carried to the crown and enters the empty valley of Niwan (the inner alchemical locus in the head); turbid Qi descends: the true Qi of Kun (the source Qi of Kun yin, symbolizing the life-root) falls into the empty aperture of the life-gate between the two kidneys. Thus Taiji divides into the Two Modes (the yin and yang poles).

After this, the latecomer—the intermediate consciousness—turns guest into host, occupies the spirit chamber (the inner place where spirit is stored and Qi nourished), and becomes master. It is like the void between heaven and earth after creation, which becomes the place where the myriad things are generated. In terms of image, number, and principle, the intermediate consciousness is born from the union of Qian and Kun; originally it is the child of nature and life. The child inherits the father’s form and takes the father’s place in managing affairs. Yet the intermediate consciousness inherently carries discursive consciousness and the karmic roots of many lifetimes; it opens the six consciousnesses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) and can instead become a thief that harms nature and life. Hence both Buddhist and Daoist traditions use the metaphor of “taking the thief for one’s son.”

Once the intermediate consciousness becomes master of the postnatal bodily form, awareness acts through Qi and Qi moves through awareness; they influence each other in a cycle, and the six gates (the portals of the six modes of perception and cognition) open wide.

When the fetus first undergoes change in the womb, that is the moment life begins to descend into birth. While still in the mother’s belly, it breathes through her. Once it leaves the womb, its hands open and the passages for breath become visible. The Qianyuan true yang—the pre-heaven yang qi—resides again in the Upper Gate (tiangu, the vital region within the head); yang draws yin into motion, and post-heaven air enters directly through the nose, passing first through the mouth—hence the newborn’s cry.

After the umbilical cord is cut, the Kunyuan true qi—the pre-heaven yin vital breath—withdraws and hides within the Life Gate (mingmen, the vital pivot near the lower spine and kidneys). Fetal breathing (taixi, the womb’s way of taking nourishment through the navel) is severed; the body can no longer sustain itself by taixi alone, the belly feels empty, and feeding begins. From that point onward, each inhalation and exhalation ties one to the zhongyin—the intermediate life-state bridging pre-heaven and post-heaven—and the faculties of perception unfold. Food and drink nourish the physical form yet gradually erode suhui, the innate clarity one carried from before birth. The water and milk of the human world carry worldly desire; the shishen (post-heaven conscious mind) takes charge, and the dao-heart grows dim. Hence some children speak at birth or recall past affinities, only to become dull after nursing. What folk call “lost-soul broth” refers precisely to this worldly water and milk. At first emergence, people still retain some memory of prior affairs—so the saying that utmost sincerity brings foreknowledge (zhicheng qianzhi) often applies after one has cut off cooked food and worldly fare.

Once zhongyin enters the Central Palace (zhonggong, the body’s central pivot in neidan practice), clarity and awareness awaken and become master of the person. The pre-heaven Five Phases (wuxing) within the body are thereby established; their configuration is as follows.

These five elements have no fixed physical form, so they are called “innate” (xiantian). Their distinction shows in the contrast between stillness and activity: Primordial Nature (Yuan Xing)—the innate nature—when still is the empty, silent substance; when it moves and can respond with clarity, it is called the Primordial Spirit (Yuan Shen). Primordial disposition (Yuan Qing) is what parents confer at conception when the fetus receives life, and it forms through union with the bardo (zhongyin—the transitional state linking past and present lives and governing rebirth into a womb); when still it is the substance, when active it is called primordial essence (Yuan Jing).

Primordial Qi (Yuan Qi) is the root that sustains life. Primordial Nature, Primordial Spirit, and primordial essence all depend on primordial Qi to function; primordial Qi is the master of the innate, and what runs and acts at the center within it is Jing (essence).

Human beings have two aspects: hun and po. Hun is the trace of spirit (Shen) and Qi; at rest its form is invisible, in activity it shows outward signs. Po is what remains of Jing (essence) and Qi; at rest it has form, in activity it has tangible quality. Hun is clear and favors stillness; when quiet it can connect with the numinous. Po is turbid and inclined to movement; when active it easily grasps at desire. Thus hun belongs to Yang and po to Yin, yet both are driven by the acquired mind (shishen—the post-natal consciousness that governs discrimination and intentional activity). After death, hun disperses to receive and repay karmic retribution from past lives, while po remains and clings to the corpse. Buddhist scriptures say that what enjoys offerings yet harms people is the work of po—this is exactly that idea.

Once the bardo enters the womb, the embryo gains awareness; for without the bardo entering the womb, spirit-consciousness cannot manifest, and without the embryo joining the bardo, there is no activity. The formation of post-natal life depends on the bardo; the bardo also needs post-natal Qi—only after they unite can there be activity. This is the fetus’s primordial disposition: when it acts, the child is born, touches the ground, and cries out—the moment is like chaos being split open. The Zhonghe Ji describes it with the line: “One sword cleaves chaos; two hands break open primordial obscurity.”

After that, the acquired mind takes the lead, and the innate Five Phases turn into the post-natal Jing, Shen, hun, po, and yi (intent). Their correspondences are as follows:

This passage divides human life activity into five kinds: jing (essence), shen (spirit), hun (ethereal soul), po (corporeal soul), and yi (intention). It does not list qi (vital energy) separately, because qi enters into yi, and yi is in effect qi. In truth, none of the five can act without qi; if one substitutes qi for yi and speaks of “jing, shen, hun, po, and qi,” that formulation also holds.

The shishen—the posterior, everyday mind that discriminates and deliberates—often obstructs cultivation. It leads people to abandon what is right, follow desire, and fall into error and wrongdoing. Practitioners must build a rampart around it, restrain it, and keep it settled at the center without reckless movement, so that it cannot harm them. The Qi (here referring to the internal alchemy classic Zhouyi Cantong Qi, the Token for the Agreement of the Three According to the Book of Changes) says: “Operate and nourish the yin’e (the bodily foundation); concentrate shen to complete the bodily form.” That means the cultivator tends and nurtures the root of body and mind, gathers spirit, and thereby brings the physical form to fulfillment.

As for qi, it runs through life from beginning to end. Nourishing one’s nature must begin with nourishing qi; only by nourishing qi can life be preserved. Qi is the root of these five modes of life activity. At the start of life, before the myriad things appear, what emerges first is only qi; when the Way is brought to completion, one still cannot do without qi. Qi is “gold”—here gold is a term in neidan (internal alchemy), not ordinary metal. Only “qian gold” (gold symbolizing pure yang and firm strength) can penetrate from start to finish, which is why alchemical texts often express this as “gold.”

The terms jing, shen, hun, po, and yi refer to the body’s vital essence, thinking, emotions and moods, and intentional activity. Jing here means the essence produced through sexual union between man and woman; shen is the spirit of thought and deliberation; yi is the intention that stirs when wandering thoughts arise. The author holds that all of these belong to the dominion of post-heaven desire. The senses are pulled by external objects, gradually veiling innate nature so that the originally clear and luminous nature cannot show itself. In infancy one can still preserve more of natural innocence; once the body develops and reaches reproductive maturity, cultivation becomes harder.

The scripture says “five thousand four hundred gives birth to the yellow path,” meaning that from birth until about five thousand four hundred and eighty days, according to the text, the “Qian metal” qi within the man is full, yang throughout the body is complete, and he becomes a “pure yang body.” “Superior De in childlike truth” refers to one who begins cultivation at this stage. The scripture holds that such a person need not do “return” work—that is, need not gather back essence already dissipated—only quietly guard wuwei (non-action); since nothing has yet been lost, there is nothing to replenish; yang is already sufficient, so there is no need to accumulate yang further—one may directly practice “refining qi to transform it into shen” (making qi become spirit).

For women the node is about five thousand and forty-eight days, more than a year earlier than for men. The text calls this a “pure yin body” and holds that if a woman begins cultivation when her qi is full, difficulty is close to that for a man. Lu Ziye says: “Around sixteen a man’s essence qi opens; around fourteen a woman’s menstruation begins.” The “White Tiger’s first scripture as supreme treasure” in the Wuzhen pian also refers to a woman’s first menstruation. The scripture treats the time before essence is about to open and before menstruation is about to come as still the unbroken “pure Qian and Kun bodies” of man and woman; once past this node it is called “po ti” (broken body). Here “po ti” is Neidan (internal alchemy) terminology for the body entering reproductive maturity and the innate state changing—it does not mean physical injury.

In the scripture’s image-number language, the man was originally the Qian trigram; after po ti he becomes Li. The woman was originally Kun; after po ti she becomes Kan. In the man, union of inner yang and yin makes true qi descend from behind the head, pass through the jiaji, and enter the point between the two kidneys—thus jing is produced. In the woman, union of yin and yang makes true qi in the womb rise and stir the point between the two breasts—thus menstruation comes. The text names these two physiological changes the formation of “white essence” and “red gui,” and treats them as the “third thing” born when shen and qi are full. If one follows these changes without gathering back, one moves toward reproduction and offspring, and worldly affairs multiply.

For one who would return to the root and restore source, turning Li and Kan back to Qian and Kun, the key is “inverting Kan and Li”—reversing yin-yang change in Neidan language. The man must seek the mystery in the “Kan palace,” taking lead from Kan and doing foundation work of refining the self; the scripture points the cultivation aperture between the two kidneys. The woman cultivates stability in the “Li palace,” taking mercury from Li, called “cutting off the red dragon” (Neidan term for stopping menstruation); the scripture points the aperture between the two breasts. On this theory, when the cultivator finds the two yin-yang lines from these two places and returns them to their original trigrams, yin-yang inversion is complete and the unbroken child body is restored.

Mai Wang states: “The orifices of the human body are the orifices of the hexagram lines; through them Qian and Kun are formed.” For example, the mouth, the external kidneys (genitals), and the anus each have a single opening and belong to the three yang; the eyes, ears, and nose each have two openings and belong to the three yin. The three yin of the body are above and the three yang below, which exactly forms the Hexagram Tai (Earth over Heaven). The void between heaven and earth is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), hence it is called “the center”; this is also where the Ren and Du meridians meet—the place where spirit and qi gather. From this principle, the outer symbolism of the remaining six trigrams can be explained as follows.

Kan (Water): The ears sit toward the back of the body, so they are assigned to the lower region. Neidan texts say “seek within Kan” and also “transmission from mouth to ear”—that is precisely this idea.

Li (Fire): When performing the circuit of heaven (circulating qi according to the regimen of cultivation), the true yin within Kan rises upward from behind the body; when it nears the eyes, the yin fluid of Li descends, passes through the throat (the “multi-storied tower”), and enters the dantian. From this process one can see the correspondence between Kan and Li.

Gen (Mountain): The Yijing says: “Stopping at the back, one no longer feels one’s own body; walking in the courtyard, one sees no other person.” Gen corresponds to the Du meridian. The Du meridian begins near the weilü (tailbone region), runs upward, and stops below the nose—this is exactly the image of “walking in the courtyard.”

Dui (Lake): Dui corresponds to the mouth. Neidan texts say: “When Dui is joined, do not speak.” Dui also carries the sense of joy; it is the place where spirit and qi enter and leave.

The above explains the trigrams from the form of the post-heaven body, to illustrate the rise and fall of firing times in cultivation—this is the outer Bagua (Eight Trigrams). The inner Bagua refers to the five viscera and six bowels within the body; practitioners need not dwell on that here, so it is omitted. The inner trigrams chiefly operate through the heart and kidneys—that is, the two trigrams Kan and Li. What is taken is their function, not their literal bodily shape; this will be explained in detail later.

This passage concerns the relationship between the orientations of the pre-heaven and post-heaven Eight Trigrams and the timing of fire in practice. Some directions have no direct bearing on fire timing, so those are left aside for now. The inner trigrams chiefly concern the heart and kidney—the Kan and Li hexagrams. What is taken here is the function of Kan and Li, not a discussion of the hexagrams as such; that comes later.

Below is a brief account of pre-heaven and post-heaven orientations as they relate to fire timing. In the pre-heaven arrangement, Qian is south and Kun north, Li east and Kan west. If these four positions are exchanged, the post-heaven arrangement results: Li south, Kan north, Qian east, Kun west. The directions mentioned below follow this scheme.

Taking the human body as a map of directions, east is left and west is right; the left side corresponds to the back, the right to the abdomen. Thus “east rises and west descends” means qi ascends along the back and descends along the front. The front is yin and the back is yang, so one may also say yang qi rises and yin qi descends: qi rises from the east where Qian stands, then descends from the west where Kun stands.

In the post-heaven arrangement, Kun also lies in the southwest. All six lines of the Kun hexagram are broken yin lines, so here empty space is aligned with the Kun direction. The Shuowen jiezi states that “the southwest is the ao (hidden recess).” The Analects, Bayi chapter, has “Better to please the stove god than to flatter the god of the ao”—better to win favor with the kitchen god than with the deity of the southwest corner. Here ao illustrates the void represented by that corner. Ancients also used tang’ao and mingtang for the inner depths or open space of a hall; xuan’ao and shen’ao describe what is remote and hard to fathom.

The Wuzhen pian says: “If you would know where the elixir is produced, know that the southwest is its native place.” Daoist writings often speak of the “Kun direction,” taking from emptiness the image of fullness arising.

Since in the Earlier Heaven Bagua Qian is in the east and Kun in the west, in the Later Heaven Bagua Dui is also in the west, and Kan of the Earlier Heaven Bagua is likewise in the west. Kun, Dui, and Kan share the same directions and may therefore be regarded as mutually connected. In the Later Heaven Bagua Zhen is in the east, and Li of the Earlier Heaven Bagua is also in the east; Qian aligns with Zhen and Li in direction and can likewise be seen as connected.

In the Later Heaven Bagua Kun remains in the southwest, and Xun of the Earlier Heaven Bagua is also in the southwest. Xun stands for wind, and wind can in turn be understood as qi; when qi moves through empty passages it becomes wind. Thus Xun is called the gateway through which the great qi of heaven and earth enters and exits, and one may also say that Xun and Kun are connected. In the Later Heaven Bagua Qian withdraws to the northwest, so Gen may also be said to connect with Qian.

The place where a person’s shen and qi enter and exit is the Mud Pill Palace (niwan gong) in the head. Niwan, literally, is a spot that could be sealed with a clump of mud; here it refers to the ancestral aperture (zu qiao) in internal cultivation—the place where shen and qi meet. The following diagram illustrates this:

Inside the human head there is a cavity connected to the openings of the ears, eyes, mouth, nose, throat, and other orifices. This cavity and all the openings linked to it are called the ancestral aperture (zu qiao). The following diagram illustrates this:

At the center of the human head lies a hollow cavity that connects with the orifices of the ears, eyes, mouth, nose, and throat. This cavity and the passages linked to it are collectively called the Mud Pill (Niwan). More precisely, the upper part is the Mud Pill; below it is the Bright Hall (Mingtang); further down is the Cave Chamber (Dongfang), and below that the Scarlet Palace (Jiangong), also called “Suspended Breast” or “Suspended Throat.” “Suspended” means hanging in midair; “breast” refers to the hollow above the chest, also called “the cavity” or “the empty cavity,” all names that stress emptiness.

The Zhongyong says: “When one grasps a single good principle, one holds it fast in the heart.” Here quanquan means to hold firmly; fuying means to keep it in the breast. The scripture uses this image to show that the empty space in the chest can serve as the gate that gathers body and mind.

In “Suspended Embryo Cauldron,” “suspended” again means hanging in space; “Cinnabar Cauldron” is named for its red color. The body’s cavities and orifices all appear reddish, so Daoist books often use “mercury” or “cinnabar” to stand for things within the body. The Cantong Qi (Zhouyi Cantong Qi) says: “Born before Heaven and Earth, lofty and noble; walls and gate-towers stand beside it, shaped like the Penglai isles; all around it is enclosed, doors shut, while breath moves to and fro within.” Here Penglai stands for where immortals dwell, and also for the root where Primordial Spirit (Yuanshen) and Primordial Qi (Yuanqi) enter and leave—deep beyond measure, supreme and high. The “lofty and hard to fathom” of “weiwei zungāo” is close in sense to the Zhongyong’s “vast as Heaven, deep as the abyss.”

The human body’s eight vessels and nine orifices are all channels through which Qi flows, and each can be compared to walls and gate-towers. The fundamental orifice of spirit and Qi—the Mud Pill Palace that links inside and outside. The outer ears, eyes, mouth, and nose, and the passages near the throat within, all open into the Mud Pill’s cavity; hence the diagram below shows large and small hollows joined to one another.

The Niwan Palace (the cerebral palace within the head, also called the upper dantian) links the inside and outside of the body. The outward ears, eyes, mouth, and nose, together with the inner “multi-storied tower” (the throat) and the paired openings, all lead into the emptiness within the Niwan Palace; that is why the illustration shows the greater and lesser voids connected to one another.

The mutual resonance of heaven, earth, and the human being, and the interplay of spirit (Shen) and qi, also take place through these nine orifices. When the nine orifices are obstructed, a person suffocates and dies. In the Shurangama Sutra, some bodhisattvas enter practice through one of the nine orifices, while others enter through earth, water, fire, or wind. This is because the void within and the void without the body each carry the nature of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate—the root form from which yin and yang give rise to the ten thousand things). The different names in alchemical scriptures—“Xuan Gate,” “Pinxu (the female opening),” “Heavenly Valley,” “Responding Valley,” “Spirit Valley,” and the like—all point to these empty openings. Because emptiness has no fixed shape, change and generation can occur; the interconnecting void inside and outside is the true pivot of the Xuanpin (the mysterious female). Daoists represent this principle in diagrams, and students should understand it through them. Hence the Cantong qi also says: “In the heart one may be free of idle thoughts, yet it is hard to force away toil and sorrow. Spirit and qi fill the body, yet they cannot be held fixed and unchanged. Keep them and you thrive; lose them and you wane. In movement, stillness, or repose, spirit and qi are always with the person.”

Lecture Three

Every person is originally complete in a wondrous, luminous nature

“The valley spirit does not die; return to Taiji.”

When heaven and earth were first formed, white and black wrapped around each other like an egg. The same holds when a human first receives a fetus: white within, black without, each enclosing the other. White refers to the pre-heaven Qi (the innate vital energy that generates the ten thousand things)—originally empty and still, yet able to gestate what is wondrous. Black refers to the pre-heaven qi contained within post-heaven breath when male and female breath combine—already manifest as concrete existence, yet still holding emptiness within.

The Cantong qi says: “Within white there is truth; square and round about an inch; mixed and mutually binding.” It also says: “White is the essence of metal; black is the root of water.” The vacuum-one-Qi spoken of here is the essence of metal; metal’s color is white, originating from the hexagram Qian—Qian’s original nature, called the “root of nature.” Wondrous-being qi is the essence of water; water’s color is black, originating from the hexagram Kun—the root of life in Kun’s domain, called the “stem of destiny.” White comes from heaven and appears as images in heaven; black arises from earth and forms concrete body on earth. White and black wrapping each other shape the form of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), no larger than a square inch, so the Cantong qi uses “square and round about an inch” to describe the earliest state of life’s formation—roughly how it is when the embryo first takes shape.

The Yijing says: “Great is Qian’s origin; the ten thousand things begin from it”; and: “Supreme is Kun’s origin; the ten thousand things grow from it.” “Providing the beginning” means the first point of true yang; “providing growth” means the ten thousand things develop from this into the four images and Five Phases. Providing beginning is in heaven, providing growth is on earth—this is only symbolic language; in reality it all lies in one aperture of the human body.

White stands for vacuum; black for wondrous being. The Analects says: “Painting must be done on white ground.” White is the unmarked surface; only on white can all colors be received. The scripture also says: “The Dao gives birth to one; one gives birth to two; two gives birth to three; three gives birth to the ten thousand things.” At human birth, pre-heaven one-Qi is “one”; the parents’ combined breath is “two”; one and two unite to form “three,” from which the ten thousand things arise.

At the moment of birth, life begins. The innate primordial Qi (yuanqi, the original vital energy spoken of in Daoism) is the One; the breath of the parents is the Two. When innate primordial Qi combines with the parents’ qi, the Three arises. Innate qi joins with post-heaven innate qi (the qi received and formed in the womb) to bring a life from non-being into being—this “Three” is the zhongyin (the subtle life-spirit between conception and birth in Daoist teaching).

After conception, the fetus is linked to the mother through the umbilical cord, taking the mother’s breath as its breath and drawing in post-heaven qi from outside. Post-heaven qi nourishes innate primordial Qi and post-heaven innate qi, and the fetus gradually grows. When the fetus is mature, by the principle of like calling to like, the zhongyin is drawn in—is this not again the Three produced from the One and Two? In the language of the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Human), innate primordial Qi is Heaven, the qi formed from the parents’ breath mixed together is Earth, and the zhongyin is the Human—thus the Three Powers are complete. With the father’s essence and the mother’s blood added, the five constituents of life are formed.

Once the zhongyin has arrived, it dwells in the Central Yellow Spirit Chamber (the seat of spirit-qi in the center of the body) and becomes master of the life. The fetal primordial vitality (taiyuan, the root life-force of the fetus), originally still and unmoving, is stirred by this resonance and begins to act. Before entering the womb the zhongyin had no awareness and drifted in empty space; after entering the womb, because there is qi within the fetus to rely on, spiritual awareness appears. The fetus then breaks through chaos and is born.

The root of innate nature (xing) belongs to Qian, which symbolizes Heaven; as it is said that what is rooted in Heaven tends upward, it rises to the crown of the head. Post-heaven innate qi belongs to life (ming); the root of life (mingdi) belongs to Kun, which symbolizes Earth; as it is said that what is rooted in Earth tends downward, it sinks to the Mingmen (Life Gate, the root of life below the navel). Thus Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) divides into Qian and Kun. Nature floating at the crown is “non-being within being”; life sinking at the Mingmen is “being within non-being.” The Mingmen is also called the Mihu (Secret Gate) or the Beiji Dayuan (Great Abyss of the Northern Pole).

Once nature and life are established, inside and outside the body connect through one another, and the person can eat, speak, move, see, and hear.

The preceding passage describes how, after birth, a person gradually becomes an infant, a child, a “true child” (chizi), and then a youth. Once “breaking of the original body” (poti) occurs, the human condition shifts again: the congenital state gives way to the acquired state; the Li and Kan trigrams (symbolizing fire and water) replace Qian and Kun (symbolizing heaven and earth) and occupy south and north, while Qian and Kun are assigned to east and west. The four trigrams encircle the four directions, and the spirit chamber of the central palace—the inner space at the heart of body and mind—stands empty.

At this point the intermediate consciousness (zhongyin)—the psychophysical factor that carries karmic habit from past lives and bridges death and rebirth—holds the center and begins to dominate. As the sensory roots meet the dust of objects (gen chen xiang dui)—as the faculties contact the external world—knowledge and discriminating thought grow daily, and the intermediate consciousness turns into the acquired mind (shishen), the postnatal consciousness and discursive thinking that increasingly obstructs the cultivation of nature and life (xingming).

After poti, true yin rises and true yang sinks; nature (xing) and emotion (qing) convert into one another. The congenital endowment of temperament, appetite, and sexual desire combines with the temperament, appetite, and sexual desire brought by the intermediate consciousness from successive lives, so the mind grows more restless and worldly desires multiply. Once the essence of commingling (jiaogan zhi jing)—essence tied to reproductive function—arises, the youth’s original body is naturally broken; one need not wait for sexual union between man and woman for poti to occur.

The scripture treats poti as a process of heaven-and-earth natural creation. On the day of “five thousand four hundred births of the Yellow Track” (huangdao), pure yang or pure yin reaches completion; after that day the body changes of itself. In men, the essence of commingling appears; in women, the water of Heavenly Water (tiangui)—the menstrual flow that follows reproductive maturation. One white and one red symbolize Kan and Li, signs of the outward leakage of essence and qi. When the Yellow Track first forms, the person’s spirit brightens and the complexion gains luster; men may sometimes feel warm qi moving along the spine, women may sometimes feel cool fluid beneath the breasts. The text holds that attentive observation will reveal these changes.

If one cultivates at this time, what circulates in the body is primordial qi (yuanqi) and primordial essence (yuanjing). One need only fix the spirit on the qi aperture (qixue)—the locus where the mind gathers and holds qi in practice—and essence and qi will grow fuller through refinement. Within wuwei (non-action), the fire of the celestial circuit (zhoutian zhi huo) runs of itself; when the mind settles, true qi in the abdomen fills naturally; when the heart is clear, original nature appears. Without forced contrivance, the inner elixir (neidan) congeals unnoticed. This is what the scripture calls the simplest, easiest cultivation by nature—the path of least artifice.

When one does not rely on deliberate human effort, the internal elixir (Neidan) can form unnoticed—this method is the simplest. If the innate foundation has already been damaged and the true yang within the body has been lost, one must accumulate over a long time before one can return to a childlike state and lay the foundation for cultivation anew. What follows explains the situation in which this innate foundation has been damaged.

When a person reaches the “five thousand four hundred living yellow day” (the moment in Daoist texts when yin and yang unite and the innate state shifts), that is the day the innate foundation is harmed. At that time the yuanqi (original qi) of the mingmen (the gate of life at the lower abdomen, the root of life in the body)—what is called “the fate within Kun”—rushes upward along the jiaji (the spine) to meet the zutian qi (ancestral qi, innate primordial qi) at the crown. The zutian qi at the crown descends from the jianggong (the region between heart and chest) straight into the mingmen and joins the mingmen yuanqi.

This is described as Kun yin entering into Qian and Qian yang sinking into Kun: yin and yang swap places; the middle of the Qian trigram empties and becomes the Li trigram, and the middle of the Kun trigram fills and becomes the Kan trigram. The yuanqi originally in the mingmen is pressed downward and falls between the mingmen and the yin qiao (a subtle pathway in the lower body), where it connects with the void outside the body—as if it had already reached beyond the physical form—so elixir scriptures call it “unfathomably deep.”

After this union of heaven and earth, the yin within Li is unstable and often drifts outward and disperses. A trace of yuanqing (original feeling) moves back and forth in the zhonggong shenshi (the middle palace spirit chamber, where spirit and qi meet in internal alchemy), which stirs post-heaven cognition; cognition then surges to the crown, joins with xing (nature) in Li and triggers emotional arousal, then descends to the mingmen and produces visible jing (essence). Once xing and qing are mixed, yuanshen (original spirit) turns into shishen (discriminating consciousness) and falls entirely into the post-heaven state, with shishen in charge. The place yuanshen once occupied is taken by shishen and squeezed out of the “small void” (the inner still expanse in Neidan) to a position neither inside nor outside. Its situation matches that of mingmen yuanqi: once forced out, it seems to lie outside the body—hence Daoist writings often speak of “seeking outward.”

This is why Sun Wukong is called “Grandfather” in Journey to the West. When lust and emotional fixation run hot and the six consciousnesses (the cognitive functions of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) roam unchecked, the Yuan Shen (Original Spirit) seems to vanish—as when clouds cover the sun: you see only clouds, not the sun.

In a child who has not yet lost virginity, the Yuan Shen is still present. In daily activity, though the Shi Shen (the discriminating, perceiving, and thinking mind) is in charge, in stillness that unconscious, utterly pure Yuan Shen remains within, and the breath of innate innocence shows itself from time to time. After one reaches adulthood, the Yuan Shen is gradually worn down by the Shi Shen, and the person becomes a world ruled entirely by the Shi Shen.

If someone has deep spiritual roots, the Yuan Shen can still appear at times. Even in the bardo (the intermediate state between death and rebirth), if they carry the foundation of cultivation from a previous life, some root capacity may remain and the Yuan Shen can persist for a while; if what they bring is entirely evil roots formed from karmic obstacles, the Yuan Shen is wholly gone and only the Shi Shen driven by karmic force remains. The author holds that those with spiritual capacity still have a Yuan Shen; those without it have only the Shi Shen—that is the principle.

There is also a special case. Confucius said: “Only the highest wisdom and the lowest dullness do not change.” (Analects, Yang Huo) Those of highest wisdom have spiritual roots, as described above. Those of lowest dullness not only lack such roots but also lack sharp intelligence and discernment; because the Shi Shen is dull, the Yuan Shen can hardly exist either, so they too “do not change.” Ordinary people, by contrast, are wholly governed by the Shi Shen. Confucius also said: “Human natures are alike at birth; habit and environment make them far apart.”

Over time, people are shaped by acquired habits and their surroundings until those influences run very deep. Day after day they are tugged by the seven feelings and desires—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and craving—and they also fixate on the six sense objects: form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects (fa). In that way they keep turning through birth and death, while the original spirit (yuanshen—the person’s authentic spiritual essence) is slowly used up. The Laozi says: “Those devoted to life are three in ten; those who lean toward death are also three in ten.” That is the situation meant here.

In childhood, the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) positions mapped onto the body place Qian in the south, Kun in the north, Li in the east, and Kan in the west. At the stage called “opening the yellow track” (sheng huang dao), those positions shift: Li moves to the south, Kan to the north, Qian to the east, and Kun to the west. “Opening the yellow track” is Neidan (internal alchemy) language for shifts in qi inside the body. On the east and west, Qian and Kun are replaced by Zhen and Dui: Zhen stands for the eldest son and Dui for the youngest daughter, each acting in place of the father and mother; Qian and Kun, as the parents, withdraw to the empty southwest and northwest and no longer hold authority. That is why alchemical scriptures speak of Zhen and Dui but not of Qian and Kun.

After the human body is “broken open” (that is, after birth, when pre-heaven primordial Qi begins to be affected by post-heaven conditions), Li and Kan occupy the upper and lower positions respectively, while Zhen and Dui stand to the east and west. Thus fire and water fail to meet and interact, and metal and wood remain apart. The “blazing upward” fire grows ever stronger, while what belongs to the water side sinks lower day by day.

A person’s Shen (spirit), Jing (essence), and Qi (vital energy) pull on one another: when Shen dissipates above, Jing and Qi dissipate with it; when Jing dissipates below, Shen and Qi are affected as well; when Qi dissipates in the middle, Jing and Shen are lost too. The pre-heaven endowment of primordial Qi drains away without cease, while post-heaven desires constantly obscure the original nature. For every measure yang declines, yin increases by the same measure. In traditional teaching, at seven times seven (forty-nine years) for women and eight times eight (sixty-four years) for men, true yang is exhausted. If depletion is excessive, exhaustion may come earlier; those skilled in nurturing life may keep it from being fully spent. These changes differ according to how much one is caught in worldly desire. People in simple country life often live long; the wealthy and noble often suffer many illnesses—this is the reason.

While still in the mother’s womb, one is called “pre-heaven”; before receiving breath, one is “pre-heaven of pre-heaven.” After birth one enters “post-heaven”; after the body is broken open, one is also called “post-heaven of post-heaven”—the “post-heaven body of turbid yin.” Pre-heaven is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), which exists before heaven and earth. Pre-heaven of pre-heaven is Wuji (the Limitless). Wuji means emptiness and stillness pushed to the utmost. Before the parents’ union, the body shows no outward sign—this is likened to Wuji. After death the form is destroyed and nature returns to nothingness; that too can be called Wuji.

Only by understanding death can one understand life; if one has not yet understood life, how can one grasp death? Before birth and after death, all returns to emptiness. Between birth and death there are form, appearance, color, and texture, yet these last only a few decades. A Buddhist saying runs, “What has form will finally perish; only the formless is truly real”—meaning the body must perish in the end, while only the indestructible nature of pre-heaven ancestral Qi is constant.

The human body perishes within a few decades; what alone does not arise and does not perish is the “xing” (nature) contained in the innate ancestral Qi (the primordial source-breath). Why does xing not perish? Because from the outset it is like empty space, without fixed form or substantial thing. Though when active it shows awareness, in stillness it in fact gives rise to nothing.

Speaking only of xing: empty void is its substance; subtle presence (the wondrous function appearing from that substance) is its operation—what we call subtle presence is spiritual awareness. This awareness appears through responsiveness and moves with the flow of Qi; apart from Qi it returns to void; without stimulus it reverts to formlessness and tracelessness. Precisely because it is utterly empty, it does not arise and perish. Hence it is said: “Heaven and earth may be destroyed; this is not.” When would empty space ever be destroyed? Therefore it can outlast endless kalpas. Cultivating and preserving it is preserving the mandate of heaven; here “mandate of heaven” means the endowed spiritual light—the moment spiritual awareness first responds upon entering the womb.

After entering the womb it still takes empty void as substance, then forms a body and is born. The spirit is ever empty and bright in responsiveness, and so can know the myriad things; nothing in the three realms lies beyond knowing. Yet later it is veiled by the intermediate state (between death and rebirth) and pulled by emotional cognition (knowing shaped by feeling and discriminating mind), and the spiritual light grows dim. Even so, in deepest stillness it can still illumine what is hidden and subtle.

Those of deep cultivation, after death, return to the original state of empty void and abide between heaven and earth, still and unmoving. What Confucians call “receiving whole and returning whole” means here preserving the spirit received at birth. To preserve that spirit one must undergo a period of refinement so that the Qi of subtle presence merges into it. Then one is spiritually clear while alive and spiritually clear after death, expanding without limit to boundlessness: extended, it fills the six directions (all heaven and earth); gathered, it hides in depth and distance. This is preserving the xing one received and returning to the source.

Song dynasty Confucians did not grasp the meaning of the Yijing (Book of Changes). They thought that if one fulfilled every duty in human life, one had fully received life and would fully return it at death. They did not know that emptiness with nothing in it is mere stubborn void; vacuity without spirit is not true vacuity. The mandate of Heaven first granted to a person has long since been lost invisibly—how then can one speak of fully receiving and fully returning it?

Pre-heaven true yang (the genuine yang vital energy received at birth) is the Dao Qi (primordial qi of the Way) contained within Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate); it gives life to the ten thousand things. It seems utterly without form, yet holds the utmost being; it seems utterly empty, yet is truly spiritual. The wisdom and clarity with which sages are born all come from skillfully nurturing this qi. In human beings it cannot always appear because people cannot always stay tranquil; it cannot always stay bright because people cannot always stay empty and still.

Master Taixuan wrote in verse:

When my parents gave me birth, I had a spark of clarity;

Later I lost that clarity because the bodily form had already taken shape.

The formed body veils the original light;

Drop those veils, and thorough clarity can still return.

Chan master Zhijue wrote:

The bodhisattva has never left true nature;

It is people who lose themselves, yet stay close to that nature without knowing it.

If you can sit in stillness and turn the light inward,

You will see the master you originally had before you were born.

Chan master Miaoxu wrote:

There is a sober, aware master within,

Quietly dwelling in the linggong (the abode of heart-and-mind).

As long as inwardly there is no grasping or obstruction,

The original natural body appears as empty clarity.

Scholar Zhang Zhuo wrote:

Bright and still, it illumines the vast heavens and earth;

Common people and sages originally share one source.

When not a single thought arises, the body is wholly manifest;

When the six senses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) stir,

The original natural body is like clouds covering the sun.

Scholar Zhang Zhuo’s poem appears twice in the scripture.

Primordial ancestral Qi—the original source-energy of all things—manifests in human beings as original nature. After the embryo forms, the temperament and disposition of one's parents, together with the habits accumulated over many lifetimes in the bardo body (the transitional state between death and rebirth)—cravings for food and sexual desire—mix together and obscure the light of original nature while blocking its emptiness and openness, so that people lose the light of spiritual clarity. The Cantong qi (Seal of the Unity of the Three) says: "Once obscured, people no longer know it." That is exactly what is meant here.

Yet when a person is attached to physical form, the emptiness and openness of original nature is already obscured—so why does the text also say that "when a person dies, they return to emptiness and awareness vanishes"? This is because the earlier statement is from the perspective of the self, the later from the perspective of the other. My body is formed from this primordial Qi; primordial Qi was originally my prenatal master. But the bardo body later acted like a guest who usurped the host's place, so primordial nature was obscured. Though it resonates and accords with the empty void beyond the body, it is still bound by the prenatal primordial qi preserved within the postnatal self, and therefore does not immediately leave the body.

When ordinary people die, original nature regains its emptiness and openness and returns to the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) of heaven and earth. Though it neither arises nor perishes, it no longer relates to the awareness of this lifetime or to the suffering of beings in the three realms. It is like waking from a great dream, with past events like bubbles on water—much the same as being in empty nothingness before birth. From the standpoint of "I" as subject, there truly is no more spiritual awareness; from the standpoint of emptiness as subject, it still gestates the ten thousand things. In fact, for me it has already ceased, yet emptiness remains emptiness. Does this not mean that the primordial Qi I first received has dispersed and returned to void? How then can one call it "complete return"?

Therefore one must preserve the true self: let the illusory body of form dissolve so that the formless true self may endure. Only then can one become a person of bright virtue—a sage whose virtue is vast and whose transformations are unobstructed—and further become an unfathomable spirit. This is precisely why Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism all emphasize self-cultivation. The method of self-cultivation is first to make that primordial Qi one's master again and let "I" resume the guest's place.

Only in this way can one empty the self and merge with the “other” (bi, referring to the void or original nature—exact meaning shifts with context). Then what was once inert in me can become responsive, and what was once not empty can become empty. This is why all Three Teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) stress self-cultivation. The method of cultivation is first to let the “other” serve as master while the self steps back as guest. After that one can be constantly still yet constantly responsive: like the Supreme Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun) passing through seven kalpas of chaos and repeatedly appearing to expound the Great Dao; or like Shakyamuni pervading the ten directions and three realms, long saving sentient beings.

When the classics speak of “other” and “self,” they roughly mean three things: first, the relation of mutual opposition between the two; second, because the void is hard to describe, the word “other” is borrowed as a name; third, because the self takes the body as master while the void is also master of the self, both can be called “master.” Later people misunderstood the word “other,” and from that arose many errors—a truly lamentable outcome.

Daoist books sometimes say “the other shore” (bijia), where “jia” (home/shore) carries the sense of “that shore.” The line in Journey to the West, “prajna paramita reaches that shore,” uses it in this way. The ancient sages added the word “home” below because people misread “other.” “Home” also appears in Awakening to Reality: “this supreme treasure every home has,” and in Zhang Sanfeng’s verse, “every home has it, every home possesses it.” They say “every home has it,” not “every person has it,” because the void is where people ultimately belong. The form body (sexing, the visible flesh) has shape and substance; original nature has no form and belongs to the void. The physical body grows within the void and cannot live apart from it, so people take the void as home and spirit (shen) as sovereign. Void and spirit together are also called the Valley Spirit (gushen). “Valley” means an empty valley or hollow; “spirit” means it can work wondrous change in the ten thousand things.

The scripture says: “Heaven and Earth are like a great valley; caves are like small valleys within the valley; openings and orifices are like valleys still smaller.” My teacher Master Wang Zhen said: “Extend this reasoning, and the whole human body is also governed by the ‘Valley Spirit’ (Gu Shen). Only when there is emptiness in the ears can one hear; only when there is emptiness in the eyes can one see; only when there is emptiness in the nose can one smell; only when the tongue has emptiness can one speak; only when there is space in the hands can one grasp; only when the feet can move can one walk and run. If body and mind cannot remain open and unobstructed, illness arises; if mouth and nose cannot breathe, one dies.”

I reason further: if there were no space inside clothing, the body could not be clothed; if a house had no interior space, people could not dwell in it; if mouth and belly had no emptiness, food and drink could not enter. All things occupy space; within concrete forms, openings and voids connect with one another—this embodies what the Yinfu Jing (Scripture of Hidden Talismans) calls the “Three Thefts” (San Dao)—the mutual borrowing and transformation among Heaven, Earth, and humanity. Emptiness connects with emptiness; only then can there be agility and change. Without the Valley Spirit as master, there can be no emptiness; without emptiness, there is no communion with the numinous, and the workings of creation and transformation cease. The scripture says: “The Dao is nothing other than emptiness.” Patriarch Zhang Sanfeng said: “Watch me: breathing naturally gathers and closes; qi naturally rises and lifts. Before my parents had yet begotten me, that bit of true Yang (the pre-heaven vital breath) in emptiness nourished the root and fostered the stem; in emptiness it settled nature and life and laid the foundation. This is what we call the primal tone (the pre-heaven original source-qi), and also the principle that is understood.”

Heyangzi said:

I came from emptiness;

I should also return to emptiness.

Coming and going, all is within emptiness;

And in emptiness I plant the tree of karma (the root-seed of cause and effect formed by one’s own conduct).

As the root of the karma-tree sinks deeper, its branches spread over the path of coming and going.

Yingchanzi said:

Whether cultivating immortality, attaining Buddhahood, or studying Confucian learning—

What the three teachings transmit separately is one and the same “emptiness.”

Since ancient times, every attainment that surpasses the ordinary has been cultivated through xujing (emptiness and stillness).

Those who seek immortality take xujing as the essential principle of neidan (internal alchemy); those who study Buddhism must settle the heart in emptiness and release worldly concerns. If one asks how to follow the way of the sages, the answer is to shed the private self within xujing and let the principle of Heaven (tianli) show clearly.

The substance of Dao (the Way) is empty and without form, endlessly subtle; heaven and earth move within that emptiness, and qi (vital energy) flows in full mutual penetration. Yin-yang change, the work of creation and the pulse of life—all advance and turn within emptiness. Whoever can deeply abide in xujing can grasp transformation and meet every circumstance.

Chan Master Yuantuo Weikuan said:

When you study the Way, do not grasp or covet; hold nothing in attachment in any matter, and you will accord with Dao. You must first be without mind (wuxin) before you can taste the way of wuxin; and even after you have truly tasted the way of wuxin, do not cling to what you have gained.

The Xingming Guizhi (Treatise on Nature and Life) says:

When the parents’ minds unite and union is about to occur, the primordial spirit-light is whole like a sphere, bright and shining, and enters the mother’s womb. At first there is only a round form. Confucians call it “benevolence” (ren), also “Wuji” (the Ultimateless); Buddhists call it the “pearl,” also “perfect luminosity” (yuanming); Daoists call it the “elixir” (dan), also “spirit-light” (lingguang). All these names point to the single prenatal qi—the finest primordial qi before Hunyuan (primordial unity) was divided. It is the root of human life, the starting point of received yuanqi, the foundation of xing (nature) and ming (life), and the source of change in the ten thousand things. When the parents’ union is complete, essence and blood wrap around it on the outside, forming a round whole—this is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate).

According to this diagram, emptiness and fullness are still divided into five layers, the same as in the chart I explained earlier. Because there was concern about revealing the entire heavenly secret, only three of the layers are discussed here; the other two remain withheld. If you reflect carefully on the meaning of the diagram, it should be easy to understand.

“Ren” (humaneness, the kernel) can be analyzed as “two persons” (er ren)—here meaning the union of yin and yang, in the same sense as “ming,” “dan,” and “yi” as explained before. When yin and yang unite, that is the empty body of primordial Taiji (the root before yin and yang divide, empty yet holding the germ of life). When a person attains this empty body, at rest it seems as though there is nothing; when it moves, it seems as though something appears. Hence the seed at the center of fruit is also called “ren” (the kernel).

Two pieces joined together symbolize yin and yang; a slight hollow in the middle of the two pieces (an empty pore) symbolizes Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). The way a human embryo forms follows the same pattern.

When the intermediate state (zhongyin—the transitional phase between death and rebirth) enters the body and takes charge, what was originally still becomes active. The intermediate state’s conscious spirit (shishen, the mind that discriminates and perceives) seizes the leading role from the Valley Spirit (gushen, the empty, still, and luminous innate nature). Buddhism also calls the intermediate state the “nature of arising and ceasing,” in contrast to the void’s nature that neither arises nor ceases. It becomes master of the post-heaven physical form; once it is present, the body begins to move—and when the body moves, the Valley Spirit withdraws from view.

Those who cultivate the Way must achieve “the heart dead, the spirit alive”: let the discriminating, clinging mind settle into stillness so the luminous innate nature can appear—only then can one connect with Heaven and Earth, endure without decay, and reach the vajra state (the indestructible, diamond-hard realization). Thus the post-heaven body and the pre-heaven dharma body (the body of innate nature beyond physical form) are utterly different. To preserve pre-heaven nature, one must follow the pre-heaven Way within post-heaven timing. “Following pre-heaven timing” here means grasping the turning points where stillness and movement shift. The Yijing says: “In post-heaven, yet serving Heaven’s time.” It also says: “Who knows its subtlety— is it not spirit-like?” Meaning: to perceive the finest foretokens of change is to approach the wondrous. Xici (Lower) explains: “Subtlety (ji) is the faintest stir of movement, where fortune and misfortune first show themselves.” In other words, ji is the barely visible sign when change has just begun; good and ill often can be foreseen from it.

The Valley Spirit and the conscious spirit—one empty and still, one restless and floating. When the conscious spirit holds power, the Valley Spirit does not manifest. If the conscious spirit recedes, what is clear and luminous in emptiness and stillness is precisely the Valley Spirit. Yet after birth people chase material desires, and Yuan Shen (the pre-heaven luminous nature) loses its spiritual clarity and can hardly appear again. The so-called pre-heaven Great Way is the recovery of this pre-heaven emptiness and stillness; emptiness and stillness open communication with spirit, and once spirit is connected, transformation can issue from the heart until Heaven and human resonate with each other.

The post-heaven body is only a shell and will eventually perish. Once one “breaks the body” (pre-heaven qi disperses and the form enters the post-heaven condition), Zhen and Dui occupy the places Qian and Kun once held; the true yang within Qian and the true yin within Kun both retreat to where they cannot function.

The body formed after birth is ultimately only a shell, and there always comes a time when it decays. Once a person loses the original wholeness of the pre-heaven state, Zhen and Dui take the places of Qian and Kun; the true yang within Qian and the true yin within Kun both withdraw into what is hard to discern and seems to have lost its function. The Cantong Qi says: “Primordial essence is subtle and hard to see; things with form are easy to rely on and measure; what has no sign is hard to plan for.” That is exactly the point.

Zhen is two yin and one yang; Dui is two yang and one yin. Yin and yang are interwoven and mixed, not pure, so they are not yet true yin and yang. True yin and yang must be regenerated from this condition. Buddhists call it “inner nourishment”; Daoists call it “outer refinement”: inner nourishment is cultivating a silent, empty clarity; outer refinement is refining and nurturing the realm of emptiness—the two refer to the same thing. The Daoist saying “not in the physical body, yet not apart from the physical body” and the Buddhist saying “neither inside nor outside—form is emptiness” mean the same.

Since the post-heaven body has already lost its original pre-heaven nature, one must follow the seasons of heaven and seek the method of returning to the source. Cultivation must first reach a state of “chaos” to restore the undivided Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); then from chaos enter void, to restore the Taiji of empty stillness. Only then can subtle being arise from true emptiness, and one recover one’s original face from before one’s parents were born.

“Gathering the Five Phases,” “harmonizing the Four Symbols,” “the three families meet,” and “uniting the three into one” all describe restoring the undivided Taiji. Hence the talk of “cauldron and vessel”: the cauldron (ding) is the heart—that is, Qian; the vessel (qi) is the body—that is, Kun. Qian is “having that contains non-being”; Kun is “non-being that contains being”; what lies between Qian and Kun is called “emptiness within.” Emptiness within is neither wholly being nor wholly non-being; both having and not having—that is what is meant by true intent (zhenyi).

Body, heart, and mind are called the person’s “three families,” but what is meant here is not the visible body, heart organ, and thoughts. For someone who has lost the pre-heaven wholeness, at the start of practice one still must use the post-heaven body as the basis for cultivation and employ the functions of post-heaven body, heart, and mind. But one must forget attachment to the physical form itself before the work can appear. Reaching extreme stillness and single-minded stability—that is cultivation. The Cantong Qi says: “Follow what nature completes; it is not the way of reckless fabrication.” The Daodejing says: “Heaven takes the Dao as its model; the Dao takes nature as its model.”

Cultivation must be made manifest through the functioning of body and mind; reaching utmost emptiness, stillness, and solid sincerity is the work of practice. Hence the Qi says: “What nature does of itself is not a crooked or false path.” The Daodejing says: “Heaven takes the Dao as its model; the Dao takes nature as its model.”

In cultivation, body and mind are the root, spirit and qi the active force; intent is also the root, and true intent the active force. “Body” here means the yang qi in the Gate of Life (Mingmen), situated between Mingmen and the yin qiao vessel—so it is not simply called “Mingmen.” “Heart” here is not the fleshy organ but the original spirit (yuanshen): empty, numinous, clear, and unobscured; it dwells between inside the body and outside the body, and by nature is originally empty and still.

Kan symbolizes qi and body; the single yang line in Kan refers to the true qi in the body. Li symbolizes spirit and heart; the single yin line in Li refers to the original spirit in the heart.

When intent enters the body and takes charge of activity, all of that belongs to the discursive spirit (shishen)—consciousness governed by emotion and discrimination. Why is it not called “discursive mind” but “heart”? Because when emotional and discriminating consciousness subsides, the heart of heaven (the originally clear heart) appears and the original spirit is restored—so it is still called “heart.” Returning the formed to the formless is the heart of the Dao; if worldly passions never cease, it is…