《一贯天机直讲》Vol. 2

In what follows, “human heart” (renxin) is always figurative language. It does not mean the visible body or the heart we speak of in daily life. “Intent” (yi) here means the qi of the two earths—Wutu and Jitu. When those two earths merge, they form true intent (zhenyi) in the zhonggong, the inner alchemical center in the middle of the body. True intent is a third condition that appears when shen (spirit) and qi (vital energy) have joined.

When body and mind are in a hazy state—neither clearly willing nor clearly not willing—mind-spirit and breath stay coupled, shen and qi unite. No stray thought rises, yet single-pointed intent does not scatter either. The pair harmonizes and gathers; Wutu and Jitu knit into the “gui” (an ancient jade emblem, here standing for something that has taken shape), and true intent shows itself.

The Buddhist tradition names this “clear, solitary luminosity” (lili guming), stressing the empty yet bright side. The Q (short for the Zhouyi Cantong Qi) says “sit and let warmth sink”; Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) says “gently, gently, lead in the cauldron—light shines through the curtain.” Those lines stress the side where something becomes perceptible. Both “warm” words describe what practitioners feel in training: after shen and qi unite and lead-qi returns to the cauldron (the inner site of refinement), the empty openings seem to hold a faint misty qi, and a slight warmth can be sensed. “Light shines through the curtain” means that with eyes shut or open, one feels light entering the field of vision. Such signs belong to the stage called “sit and let warmth sink”; they are the lived feeling when intent stays one-pointed and unbroken.

Laozi says: “Vague and elusive—within it there is an image; elusive and vague—within it there is a thing; dark and dim—within it there is essence; this essence is real, and within it there is something one may trust.” “Image,” “thing,” and “essence” here all point to what is subtle yet real within true emptiness—visions that arise once thought has stilled. One may verify these words when emptiness and stillness reach their depth. Still, the passage is wide in meaning; it will be taken up again below.

Lecture Four: Nourishing Emptiness Within, Giving Birth to True Yang Without

Let the other refined essences hold the leading role, and arrange the remaining factors so each fits its place.

What ordinary people use every day without noticing is precisely what is meant here by shen and qi. Shen can govern; qi can move and act. Shen is empty, luminous, and never dimmed, hence it is called “shen”; qi seems to be there yet is hard to grasp, hence it is called “qi.”

When shen and qi flow outward, the six roots—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind (yi)—are the gates through which shen and qi enter and leave. Through these gates people distinguish things, consciousness begins to stir, and shen and qi are drained in the process. What is called “shishen” (discriminating spirit) here is the master behind the six kinds of recognizing activity. Eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and yi are the six roots; form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects (fa) are the six dusts. When the six roots meet the six dusts, the six consciousnesses arise. In the end the six consciousnesses are one consciousness; shen is hidden in the root of yi (intention/mind). If one can still the discriminating activity of the yi-root, it is as Manjushri said: “When one root returns to the source, the six roots attain liberation”—meaning when one root turns back to the origin, the six roots are liberated along with it.

The “shi” (world) in “Guanyin” (Avalokiteshvara) refers here to the world constructed by consciousness. If that world of consciousness can be stilled, the six roots naturally become pure, and shishen returns to yuanshen (original spirit). Yuanshen is the Valley Spirit (gushen); the Valley Spirit is originally empty and still, therefore undying, able to endure from antiquity.

“Returning to the source” means withdrawing the gaze sent outward and turning hearing back from what is external. The Qi (Zhouyi Cantong Qi, abbreviated as the alchemical classic Cantong Qi) says: “Ear, eye, and mouth—the three treasures—block them and do not let them communicate; the mouth (dui) should not be used for idle talk; rare words accord with primordial chaos (hongmeng).” That is to gather in the three senses of ear, eye, and mouth and not let them scatter with outer conditions; to speak little and accord with the undifferentiated original state. This is what is meant by reining in the six roots. When mind and intent are empty and still, one can return to yuanshen and attain lasting presence.

The Buddhist scriptures say: “In one thought turn the mechanism, and you are the same as what you originally attained.” Here “turn” (hui) is explained as mouth meeting mouth—meaning great emptiness and small emptiness unite. Whoever grasps this pivot, in the turning of a single thought, is the same as the original attainment. The scriptures also say: “Directly take up what is due to you.” The character dang (to undertake/be due) has a shape whose upper part resembles a head; turn the mind-mechanism back, and you are the same as what you originally attained.

It is also said: “Directly take it up below.” The upper part of the character for “dang” (to take up, to assume) resembles a human head; “kou” (mouth) symbolizes empty space; “tian” (field) refers to the Dantian (energy center). Within the human body, only the ancestral aperture (the inner orifice spoken of in Daoism) runs straight; the rest of the body is oriented horizontally. If one can directly receive and bear responsibility from this “straight” place, one can return to the root source.

The Scripture of the Jade Sovereign’s Heart Seal says: “The three grades of supreme medicine are spirit, qi, and essence.” What people use every day is precisely these three: essence, qi, and spirit. Spirit has no form and belongs to Yang; qi has a visible aspect and belongs to Yin; essence has bodily form. The essence produced when man and woman unite is the essence of desire. Before union, essence is stored in the life gate (Mingmen—the root of life in the lower abdomen). When the mind of desire stirs, a current of qi rushes downward from the head to the life gate, turns into essence, and is discharged. This is the result of the mind moving and emotion following: when emotion moves, spirit moves; when spirit moves, qi runs with it; spirit and qi unite and become essence—this is “one and two joining to become three.”

Therefore the essence born from sexual union flows in the ordinary, outward direction—it is produced when desire stirs spirit and qi. What cultivators call the “living zi hour” (the moment when Yang qi stirs and practice is timely) flows in the reverse direction; it is formed when the Yang qi of Heaven and Earth is aroused. Yang by nature rises, so it can move upward from below and be used to “return essence to replenish the brain” (transforming essence and drawing it upward to nourish the brain). This is the difference between the two.

Qi is the root that sustains the life of the embodied person. The body moves by means of qi; qi originally comes from outside the body and is inhaled through the mouth and nose, becoming the force that supports the body’s functioning. Once breathing stops, the person dies. Qi can enter because the post-heaven “pre-heaven qi” formed within the person draws outer qi inward. This post-heaven pre-heaven qi is at first in the life gate, then later moves to the yin qiao (a region emphasized in Daoist internal alchemy). Though it differs in purity from outer qi, it is still of the same category as qi, so by the principle of like attracting like it can pull external qi in—as a lodestone attracts iron, or as opposite charges attract.

This qi is already present when the parents unite; with it, the body can attract outer qi and drive respiration.

This qi forms when one’s parents unite in conception; only with it can the body draw in external breath and drive respiration. Daoist texts say: “As long as a trace of yin qi remains in the body, one cannot attain immortality.” Here “yin qi” means the outer breath taken in through post-heaven respiration. They also say: “As long as a trace of yang qi remains, one will not die.” Here “yang qi” means the post-heaven yet pre-heaven qi in the Mingmen (Gate of Life) and at Yinqiao (the meridian locus emphasized in Neidan). With this qi, a person can breathe and sustain activity, and thus avoid death.

Incoming breath first enters the lungs. The Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Classic) calls the lungs “Baiyuan” (White Origin) and also “Xucheng” (Empty Completion), meaning the lung is hollow within and breath gathers there. Inside the body the lungs open and close; as breath moves in and out, the lungs follow. The lungs’ opening and closing are driven by the movement of breath, while breath in turn is drawn by post-heaven pre-heaven qi. This qi is also called yuanqi (Original Qi); it is stored at Yinqiao and connects with the crown of the head. It seems inactive, yet in fact it constantly moves up and down, thereby drawing outer breath into the lungs and making the lungs open and close.

The author held that Western medicine of his day also knew outer breath enters the lungs and that the lungs open and close accordingly, but could not explain why breath enters. He attributed this to medicine’s ignorance of how formless yuanqi draws in outer breath.

When a fetus is born and outside air first enters the mouth and nose, Daoist texts call this “one arrow piercing Hongmeng”—the primordial undifferentiated state. Patriarch Lü said: “When it comes to the moment one receives qi at birth, the secret of heaven’s workings is almost entirely laid bare.” This is because the qi one receives divides into pre-heaven qi and post-heaven qi.

The “Yuanzu Xi” (primordial ancestral qi) felt when the fetus takes form occurs before the parents’ act of conception and stands for original emptiness. The breath inhaled at birth belongs to the time after conception and is the treasure on which the visible body depends for life. The four characters “receiving the body and receiving qi” already point to the crux of pre-heaven and post-heaven.

The scripture then describes how life forms: the shen (spirit) consciousness from the bardo—the transitional state before and after rebirth—enters the body and occupies the zhonggong (central region); xing (nature) rises to the crown, ming (life-root) enters the Mingmen (Life Gate, the locus tied to the root of life-qi in traditional medicine), Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) splits into the yin-yang two modes, and life gradually takes shape. After the umbilical cord is cut, outside air enters mouth and nose and breathing begins. From then on breathing never stops, nourishing the body so the five senses and four limbs can move.

The text holds that post-heaven breathing attaches to and draws on yuan qi (original qi), so yuan qi gathers and does not scatter; when it does not scatter, it can in turn take in breath-qi. The two kinds of qi interact and the person lives, in an unceasing cycle. The place where yuan qi resides is said to lie between the area below the navel, the Mingmen, and the yinqiao (a lower meridian-related locus). Hence the Inner Classic names this region “Guanyuan” and “Qihai”: Guanyuan means where yuan qi is shut in and gathered, and also the critical point where yuan qi condenses into form.

While the fetus forms in the womb, yuan qi already dwells in this place, so it can connect with the mother’s breathing. The scripture says this qi arises from the parents’ qi mingling in union, the same in kind as the ever-generating qi within Taiji. After union, the father’s essence and mother’s blood wrap the pre-heaven qi and the post-heaven body’s pre-heaven endowment of qi, forming the fetal body. Once the body is formed, this qi sits one cun and three fen below the navel—the root of this form, as the scripture puts it.

The qi of Yin and Yang mutually embrace each other; through the movement of opening and closing, fetal breathing (taixi) takes shape. Taixi is fully continuous with the mother’s breathing, and so it can take in acquired qi (post-heaven qi) from the outside world. Daoist texts say, “When Yang spreads, Yin is austere”: in opening, Yang qi expands; in closing, Yin qi gathers. Yang corresponds to exhalation and Yin to inhalation. The “one opening, one closing” is only a figure of speech for this change. In fact it turns unceasingly like a wheel, which is why Daoist texts call it the “River Cart” (He Che).

The formed embryonic sac is called the “Purple River Cart” (Zi He Che). “Purple” means it is reddish in color. Why “River Cart”? The Cantong qi (R says, “The River Cart of the North.” The Buddha likewise said, “The upright qi of the North is named the River Cart.” The north belongs to water; qi, stirred by water, turns—hence the name “cart.” The primordial qi of Tianyi (the Celestial One) descends to the north and begets water: ren water is formless and belongs to qi; gui water likewise arises when formless qi condenses into water. Because this qi is generated from Tianyi, it is called a “river” (he).

Buddhist scriptures also call it the Dharma Wheel, speaking of “the Dharma Wheel turning constantly” and “turning the great Dharma Wheel”—this too points to true breath (Zhenxi), the deep, natural breath of practice. True breath is nurtured from taixi; as it matures, ordinary breathing changes with it. Hence the phrase “wishing to return to the root and restore life”: to return to the root is to return to the root of breathing; to restore life is to restore the mandate of Kun yuan (the root qi of yin, bearing and generating). Practitioners must first establish taixi and take it as the foundation of cultivation.

After birth, taixi (the fetal state of breathing in the womb without using mouth or nose) disappears, and the River Chariot (the Neidan image of qi circulating within the body) no longer turns. Even so, the original qi below the navel still gathers into a single mass, called Mingdi (the root of life). The breath of ordinary respiration continually returns to Mingdi and reaches Mingmen (the vital gate in traditional medicine and internal alchemy). The true fire of Mingmen gradually rises, heart-fluid gradually descends, heart and kidney intersect day by day, and body and mind develop with age.

From infancy through childhood, until a certain stage of “forming the yellow path,” acquired development gradually fills out and the body “breaks” its original integrity. After that, the innate qi within the acquired body sinks down into Yin Qiao (a locus in Neidan physiology) and can no longer rise. Yet though qi scatters and falls, its power to gather and draw breath still remains. When essence transforms into seminal fluid, one still relies on this original qi: when desire stirs, Shen (spirit) moves downward, merges with qi, becomes essence, and leaks outward. Thus each stirring of desire costs a measure of Jing, Qi, and Shen; when these are exhausted, one dies. Life truly depends on these three treasures.

In daily life, many acts drain spirit and qi. The classics say: “The eyes are confused by the five colors; the ears are disturbed by the five sounds.” A common saying runs: “Open the mouth once and spirit-scatter; move the tongue once and strife is born.” Here “mouth” means the gateway of the six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) to the outer world—not only the mouth used for eating. Only when the text speaks of “the tongue moving and strife arising” does it mean the mouth of food and drink. Speech expresses the heart; the tongue is like the heart’s sprout, and most quarrels begin at the tongue. When the six roots are beguiled by sound and color, spirit and qi leak away unceasingly. If one indulges desire day after day, loss accumulates, the body ages, illness and death follow—this is going with the ordinary course of zaohua (creation and transformation). Keep going forward without turning back, and there is birth and death; reverse course in practice and return to the source, and one may attain long life and transcendence.

Acquired consciousness (shishen)—the thinking and awareness formed after birth—grows sharper the more it is exercised. Postnatal cleverness and talent all arise from shishen, yet if one pursues sharpness alone, one can also drift from the right path. Fraud, theft, deception, and other wrongdoing are all driven by shishen. Original spirit (yuanshen)—the innate spirituality of a person, prior to postnatal discrimination and deliberate thought—is different: it does not rely on forced knowledge or calculation but follows natural law, and therefore can align with the creative transformation of heaven and earth.

The Yinfu Jing uses the word “stealing” (dao) to describe taking in the vital energy (qi) of heaven and earth—this is what yuanshen does. In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong comes into the world as a stone monkey. “Stone” stands for substance and also for substance arising from emptiness. His repeated “thefts” of weapons, the golden-hooped staff, immortal peaches, immortal wine, and immortal elixir symbolize, in the novel’s allegory, absorbing the vital energy of heaven and earth. At first, what he obtains in the Aolai Kingdom is merely ordinary weapons—postnatal objects. Later, when he takes the golden-hooped staff from the Crystal Palace, it symbolizes true lead: “metal within water,” innate qi (the fundamental vital energy that precedes postnatal form). Stealing peaches symbolizes wood; stealing wine symbolizes you water. The line “originally the son of the eastern house, born by lodging in the western neighbor’s body” refers to the union of metal and wood. Stealing the elixir symbolizes the harmony of yin and yang. On this allegorical reading, each time Sun Wukong “steals,” his spiritual power increases by a degree.

From birth until the day of “five thousand four hundred on the yellow path,” a person constantly and unconsciously takes in the qi of heaven and earth; the scripture uses this to show that one gradually forms a purely yang child-body without being aware of it. Qian (Heaven) symbolizes pure yang and also heaven itself, hence the title “Equal to Heaven.” The Yinfu Jing says: “When the three thefts are fitting, the three powers are at peace.” Here “three thefts” refer to the generative and transformative processes of heaven and earth; heaven, earth, sun, and moon likewise absorb the qi of the supreme ultimate (taiji) and form the qi of creation— the principle is the same.

Innate qi comes from outside and is the root of life; postnatal qi also comes from outside and likewise sustains the body. The scripture contrasts inner spirit with outer qi: yuanshen is of one substance with the Qian-yuan ancestral nature (the innate nature at the source); the later-formed shishen can also govern a person’s actions. A person’s movements and conduct are all set in motion by spirit, but without qi and a physical form to respond, spirit cannot connect with or command the body. Thus spirit is the formless master, governing mind and intent; qi is the formed master, governing the body. Spirit can govern the spiritual body (fashen, the refined spiritual frame spoken of in cultivation) and harmonize with primordial qi to condense into a yang spirit body (yangshen, the purely yang spiritual form achieved in practice); primordial qi can also cause shishen to revert to yuanshen and thereby attain an embryonic immortal (taixian, the immortal body spoken of in cultivation).

What the Huangting Jing calls “threefold folding of the qin heart” is precisely the harmonizing of spirit and qi. Breath itself is not the root of life, yet the root of life (mingdi) resides within it; the thinking spirit is not the root of nature, yet the root of nature also resides within it. The scripture advocates returning from postnatal cultivation to the prenatal: when the mind is clear and empty and not led by shishen, when innate nature is settled and primordial qi is restored, one attains the Dao.

In human beings, the inner Shen (spirit) is primary and the outer Qi (vital energy) is secondary. Qi is not the root of life, yet the root of life resides within it; the Shen awareness used in daily thinking is not the root of original nature, yet the root of original nature lies within it. By relying on post-heaven cultivation to restore pre-heaven original nature, the mind becomes empty and clear with nothing to cling to, so that post-heaven consciousness no longer dominates body and mind. When original nature settles and Qi returns to its source, one attains the Dao.

In ordinary people, Shen is within and Qi is without—Shen is host and Qi is guest. When Qi moves, Shen moves with it; with each turn of breath, thoughts arise, and the six sense objects—form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects—follow. Shen chases outward along with Qi; day after day this habit deepens, until Shen scatters, essence is exhausted, and Qi declines, leading to aging, illness, and death. That is the path of ordinary life. Though one may beget children, life itself still inevitably decays.

The cultivation of the immortal way reverses this: with inner emptiness and stillness one draws in outer vitality, brings the outer back to emptiness and stillness, and lets genuine life arise within. What was outwardly empty is met with one’s own fullness, and it becomes “being”; what was outwardly guest is welcomed by oneself, and it becomes host. Thus host and guest are inverted until both return together to the empty Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), and nature and life are remade. Hence the alchemical classics speak of “remaking heaven and earth”; the Wuzhen Pian (Understanding Reality) says: “Deploy your forces as left and right armies—let him be host and me be guest.” “Left and right” here means using one’s own emptiness to penetrate the emptiness of the Great Void.

When emptiness and stillness reach their utmost and concentration runs deep, one merges with the Great Void, reaching a state where there is no self or other, no thing or dharma—undifferentiated as when heaven and earth had not yet divided. In that deep, indistinct state, a point of true yang of the same kind as the pre-heaven Qian-yuan ancestral nature arises. It is like a guest arriving from outside. What the alchemical scriptures mean by “when lead arrives the medicine is born, true yang comes from within emptiness,” “the nine-three male comes to lodge,” and “therein is an image, therein is essence, and that essence is most real”—all refer to this.

At such a moment, if I do not panic or fear, but abide in emptiness and stillness, guard deep quietude, refrain from deliberate discrimination and calculation, and follow what is natural, then in an instant the “Qian Yuan primordial nature” (innate original nature) buried deep within me, hidden in darkness, will appear suddenly through resonance of kind with kind. It is like a magnet drawing iron: it merges with incoming “true yang” (primordial yang qi) into one.

What the elixir scriptures call “mercury receiving the medicine,” “gathering the medicine and returning it to the furnace,” “marrying the golden lord to become the old man,” “the sixteen-year-old maiden goes to bed,” “leading the white tiger home to nourish it,” and “there is trust within”—all refer to this: welcoming the incoming “guest” so that it becomes master of my zhonggong (the inner center of the person). My teacher Master Dongting said: “After I received the secret formula, every time I practiced, I saw Sun Waigong come before me. I quickly answered and said: ‘I am willing to step down and be the guest. You are my old master—please come into my home as the new master, and with you we establish the furnace and tripod and refine the ordinary body.’” Here “establishing the furnace and tripod” is a Neidan (internal alchemy) metaphor for setting up the inner conditions to cultivate body and mind.

Yet when primordial true yang arises, it is like a flash of lightning—gone in a moment. If one is alarmed and afraid, clings to what is seen, or lets thoughts stir and cannot remain empty and still, one cannot gather it in time; in an instant it turns into post-heaven qi and loses its effect—this is called “missing it face to face.” From ancient times to the present, countless people have missed this moment. Everyone has times when yang qi stirs; those who do not understand the principle usually miss it and let it dissipate along its ordinary course.

Even when “lead” has already arrived, if “mercury” does not welcome it, one feels dull and inwardly lacks stillness and emptiness. Practitioners often miss the moment right before their eyes: some fail to recognize “Grandfather Sun” (a cryptic name in the alchemical tradition for true Yang qi), some fixate on outward forms or bodily sensations as soon as they see signs, and others become at a loss after such awareness arises. All of this shows that work on refining oneself—cultivating mind-nature and nurturing body and spirit—is not yet mature; therefore refining oneself requires sustained, unceasing effort.

If one can let this true Yang qi become the master within, the Primordial Spirit (Yuanshen) will gradually be restored and the Conscious Spirit (Shishen)—the postnatal mind of discrimination and thought—will slowly fade. With continual accumulation, the Dantian (energy center) gradually fills. Once the Dantian is full, the restless mind ceases and the Primordial Spirit becomes lively; then there is no need to fear harm from the Conscious Spirit. “Taking from Kan to fill Li” and “accumulating gold to fill the belly” both mean this; “returning to my original nature” and “restoring my Primordial Spirit” point to the same matter.

Kan represents the outer, Li the inner; the two correspond respectively to inner and outer, spirit and qi, emptiness and fullness. Li is empty within and full without—spirit within qi—and this spirit is one’s own inherent spirit. Kan is full within and empty without—Yin sits on the outside of Yang—so its qi comes from without. The qi that comes from outside is “full”: the marvelous existence (miaoyou) hidden within “true emptiness”; the inner spirit is “empty”: the true emptiness (zhenkong) contained within “marvelous existence.” Refer to the diagram below and the meaning will be clear.

In the Pre-Heaven Bagua (Eight Trigrams), the Kan trigram (symbolizing Water) and the Li trigram (symbolizing Fire) lie on the east–west axis; in the Post-Heaven arrangement, Li and Kan shift position and align instead with Zhen (symbolizing Wood) and Dui (symbolizing Metal). The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) says: “The dragon of mercury in Zhen comes forth from leaving Li; the tiger of gold in Dui is born in the domain of Kan.” What Zhen and Dui stand for is precisely this transformation of Li and Kan. Kan and Li interacting is the mingling of Water and Fire; Zhen and Dui joining is the mutual support of Metal and Wood.

“The dragon emerges from within fire” means that the dragon belongs to Wood yet arises in the midst of Fire—East Three and South Two form one body. “The tiger is born in water” means that the tiger belongs to Metal yet arises in the midst of Water—North One and West Four form one body. East and West can connect with South and North; Metal and Wood can connect with Water and Fire. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are gathered into the Four Images; the Four Images are gathered into the Three Families; the Three Families are further united as inner and outer, and inner and outer ultimately return to one family.

The fusion of Water and Fire and the mutual completion of Metal and Wood must both be accomplished in the Central Palace Huangting (the inner locus where vital breath is thought to gather) and guided by zhenyi—a focused, undistracted intention. Huangting belongs to Earth, and intention likewise belongs to Earth; through this the Three Families combine, and inner and outer become one. Every transformation in the end returns to Earth. Earth stands for “the One,” and this One is emptiness and Taiji (the undifferentiated root before things divide).

The key to cultivating the Dao lies in harmonizing the inner Shen and the outer Qi. The “Shen” spoken of here is the “I.” When people converse, they usually call themselves “I” and treat the other as someone else. In everyday speech, “I” is often indicated by the nose, and that too carries a deeper meaning: the human form takes the nose as its chief reference. The “I” meant in this teaching is the consciousness of the intermediate state—the awareness that exists between death and the next birth.

At birth one receives innate pre-heaven Qi (xian tian yi qi); at that moment there is still no consciousness or perception. When the ten months of gestation near completion, the consciousness of the intermediate state responds from outside and becomes master of the body—only then does perception arise. With perception comes the sense of “I,” that is, the acquired spirit (shi shen)—the post-heaven mind of consciousness and discrimination. The acquired spirit carries the root of karma and is shaped by habit; in truth it is only the “false self.”

The “true self” is the innate Qian nature received at birth. Confucian teaching calls it the principle-and-Qi of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); in Heaven it appears as Ming (life mandate), in the human person as Xing (nature). It is the root of unceasing life and is originally whole and complete. At death, the acquired spirit, with its karmic root, may fall into hell and bear retribution; the innate Qian nature returns to the Great Void (Tai Xu)—the vast, formless origin—neither born nor destroyed. Only this unborn, undying nature is the true self.

The cultivator should let the acquired spirit dissolve into original nature so that false self and true self become one, cut off the root of karma, and reach nirvana without remainder (a liberation in which no affliction or karmic residue remains). The true self is originally endowed with every capacity, yet the false self usurps the leading place, as if the true self were driven into deep concealment and hard to reveal; the false self plays host and draws one after the senses and outer conditions, and one sinks accordingly. If one cannot tell them apart and takes the acquired spirit for the true self, using it as the master of cultivation, Buddhist scriptures call this “recognizing the thief as the son.” Therefore one should melt away the acquired spirit and turn the false self into the true self. What the scripture calls “pushing emotion to merge with nature” means investigating and resolving the acquired spirit of the false self until it returns and unites with the true self.

From the perspective of Xing (innate nature) and Qing (emotion), the Cantong qi says: “Nature dwells within; emotion governs the outer.” Here Xing is the still, unmoving root—quiet and unshaken. Qing is prone to movement: once the six faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) meet outer things, thought tends to race outward.

Qing here means the seven emotions. All seven arise in connection with Shi (consciousness/discernment): outer things stir us first, and only then do joy, anger, sorrow, and the rest arise. Without things entering the senses and provoking feeling, these moods do not appear for no reason. So there is first contact with things, then the inner emotions move; once they move, they show in speech and conduct.

Only when the six consciousnesses (the discriminating roles of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind toward objects) are stimulated do the seven emotions respond. Emotion is born from consciousness, and consciousness shows through emotion; emotion and consciousness pull on each other, so the six faculties find it hard to return to the source. Then the master of the spiritual nature is covered over and loses its true state. Celestial Immortal Lady Cao’s Poem on Dry Metal says: “In former years deep clouds and mist concealed it; today we meet and the eye of the Way opens”—that is exactly this lifting of concealment and seeing innate nature again.

The scripture also says that Gu Shen (the Valley Spirit) is the primordial Qi when Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) first stirs—of the same kind as Heaven and the same substance as the Great Void—hence it is called “what Heaven mandates as nature.” Nature is originally unmoving, so it is said to “dwell within”; emotion often acts outward, so it is said to “govern the outer.” “Governing” means steering the six consciousnesses and guarding against the six thieves (outer conditions and sensory functions that disturb the spirit) breaking in. If you can hold the spirit and not let the six consciousnesses arise, the seven emotions will not move recklessly; even when something outside triggers you, you can stay within measure. When emotion stays measured, the inner life can harmonize.

“Harmony” means bringing nature and emotion into balance and inner and outer into one. The centered state before anything is aroused is Xing; nature holds the center, and when emotion arises it can still harmonize—this is what the Way calls “center” and “one,” the doctrine of the single thread (yiguan zhi dao). Use emotion to govern the outward six consciousnesses, and nature will naturally stay settled within.

When emotion and desire govern outward mental activity and that activity gradually subsides, emotion can return to its innate, primordial nature; the false self gives way to what is real, and “Qian Metal” (a symbol of the innate, pure Yang nature) is restored. What alchemical texts call “Yuan Jing” (primordial essence) and “Yuan emotion” (primordial feeling) means letting the post-heaven false self fade and withdraw so the true self can emerge—what is called “Jingong” (an alchemical term for the true nature or Yuanshen, primordial spirit). That is also what is meant by reversing the post-heaven order and returning to the pre-heaven state.

For emotion to return to its nature, one must first build dikes against outer temptation. When temptations no longer enter, the false self gradually dissolves and the true self gradually revives. Yet to draw the true self forth, the false self must be cleared from the “Lingtai” (the seat of the heart-mind); the inner chamber must be swept clean. Hence cultivation must begin on the inside. Although this work starts within, its effects still reach the outside, which is why the scripture speaks of “dual internal–external cultivation” (neiwai shuangxiu). That is the basis of “return” practice (fantuan gongfu)—the method of moving from a post-heaven condition back to innate, pre-heaven nature.

The Cantong Qi (Zhouyi Cantong Qi, a classic of Daoist Neidan [internal alchemy]) says: “Cultivate yourself from within, so that the heart becomes settled, quiet, and empty and clear. Let the innate spiritual clarity of your nature remain hidden and not displayed outward; then turn inward and illuminate the self. Close the gates of the senses and secure the spiritual root. Let external awareness, like that of sun, moon, and stars, grow still, and warm and nourish the Neidan within the body. Though you cannot see it, it is near at hand and easy to find.” This describes the first steps in cultivating nature—the work of keeping the spirit from scattering outward.

“Cultivate yourself from within” is lianji (refining the self): nourishing body and mind within this “small void” of one’s own person. One must first achieve “stillness and empty non-being,” so that the inner connects with the “great void”; only after the spirit-mind returns to primordial chaos can the “true self” appear. The true self is “Qian-nature” (the pure yang, vigorous quality in one’s original nature)—originally subtle and luminous, at once empty and real.

“Hidden” means that nature rests in stillness. It is veiled by the “false self’s” shishen (the discriminating, thinking activity of consciousness), buried so deep that it cannot be seen or found. Yet the spiritual clarity within nature still constantly turns inward to illumine the body. How can one experience it? For example, when a person sleeps deeply, conscious activity fades, shishen subsides, and the mind becomes extremely still—then spiritual awareness may actually appear. If someone nearby calls out, the person can wake; that responsiveness comes from spiritual awareness, not from the everyday discriminating shishen. Or again, when someone has a premonition before disaster strikes, that too is taken as the manifestation of spiritual clarity in nature.

If one who cultivates the Dao can be still and empty, one can recover this innate spiritual clarity. For nature is the root, and empty non-being arises from nature; when stillness reaches its extreme, the mind naturally becomes clear, and nature is revealed. The first step in practice is to “block and close the dui.” Dui here means the gateways through which the six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) contact the outer world—not the mouth alone as the opening for food. Gathering in the senses so that thoughts do not race outward and one is not pulled by external conditions—turning vision inward, reversing hearing, and not excessive contact with things—is the method of cultivation spoken of in the scripture. It also connects with “restraining the self and returning to ritual propriety”: disciplining oneself so that seeing, hearing, speaking, and acting do not violate ritual. When self-restraint and propriety are achieved, all under heaven can return to ren (humaneness); the ren meant here is none other than nature itself.

"Spiritual Root" (lingzhu) means the root of spirit, referring to the primordial Qi (the source energy from which heaven and earth generate all things)—that is, "benevolence" (ren). "Ceaseless generation is called benevolence" means that unceasing vitality is benevolence; benevolence is the spiritual root of all things. To fortify this spiritual root is to "sincerely hold fast to the center" (yun zhi jue zhong)—to maintain the impartial, centered Way. This is like building a wall: repeated construction makes it solid and firm—this is foundation-building (zhuji) in cultivation.

The three luminaries in heaven are the sun, moon, and stars; the three luminaries in the human body are the ears, eyes, and mouth. "Mouth" here means not only the tongue and lips but also every gateway through which the body connects with the outside world. Only when the three luminaries are stilled and gathered inward can one "warm and nurture the child pearl" (wenyang zizhu). The "child pearl" (zizhu) is the pearl of nature (xingzhu)—human nature itself. In quiet emptiness, one can return to original nature, hence it is called "child." The cultivator refines the Dharma body (the spiritual essence beyond physical form) through the colored body (the tangible physical form), returning from the acquired to the innate; therefore the acquired is called "mother" and the innate thus produced is called "child." "Pearl" signifies roundness and clarity, indicating that nature is originally complete and luminous.

In practice, one first gathers the three luminaries: the eyes do not look outward, so Shen (spirit) settles; the ears do not listen outward, so Jing (essence) is preserved; the mouth and nose do not move rashly, so Qi (vital energy) collects. When the three luminaries that leak outward are drawn back and sunk deep within, the lost pearl of nature can be recovered—as when a lost pearl was returned to Hepu. Though this pearl "cannot be seen," it is in fact "near and easy to attain"—this is what is meant by "the Dao is before your eyes." The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) says: "When true gold returns to the golden chamber, a single luminous pearl never departs." It speaks of this very pearl.

If the cultivator wishes to obtain the "Crimson-Water Mysterious Pearl" (symbolizing the hidden nature or the Great Dao), one may send "wangxiang" to seek it. Wangxiang refers to a state without deliberate discrimination—without knowledge or conscious intent. Legend says the Yellow Emperor lost his pearl and sent "liming" (clear-sighted discernment) to find it, but liming could not; later wangxiang chanced upon it. This story shows that without a mind bent on deliberate acquisition, one can instead attain the pearl of nature.

In Daoism this pearl is called the “spirit pearl” or “treasure pearl”; in Buddhism it is the Mani pearl or a relic (sarira). Daoists also call it the “head of the elixir” (dan tou), treating it as the pre-heaven Qian metal within the person—a term for innate primordial Qi.

When cultivation reaches a state of extreme emptiness and stillness, this pearl may appear and vanish, then gradually become clear. It seems almost within reach and at times shines very brightly. Daoists also call it a “star” or the “chief of the Dipper” (Doukui). “Kui” was originally the literary star of wood, an eastern asterism, used to stand for the luminous original nature; in the numerology of the Hetu (River Chart) it also corresponds to “East Three.” The saying “snatching the pearl from under the black dragon’s chin” points to the same idea: the pearl under the dragon’s jaw symbolizes what is hidden and not yet revealed.

When practice truly settles into quiet, a pearl-like image often appears before the eyes—this is the first emergence of the light of original nature; without sufficient stillness and fixation, it cannot be seen. When people paint Buddha images, they often draw a circle between the two eyebrows, depicting this very form. What the scriptures call “the white light between the Tathagata’s eyebrows” refers to it as well.

This pearl “seems invisible, yet is very close to the person and easy to obtain.” It lies hidden in the Great Abyss of the Northern Pole and is also said to come from the dragon palace of the Eastern Sea; hence the Buddhist tale of the dragon maiden offering the pearl. “Nurturing the child pearl” means that before one has obtained this pearl, one should be quiet, empty, and withdraw the activity of the outward senses to seek it; “submerging the three lights on land” means letting the outward images of sun, moon, and stars sink into stillness. While the light of nature has not yet been restored, one must not search for it deliberately; when it appears, the image is right before one, and its root is in one’s own body and mind—hence “very close to the person.”

Such expressions are all symbolic: “image” means a visible form used to portray a situation or state. “Pearl of nature” and “moon of nature” are empty images that may arise in the course of cultivation. Yet these images are likewise illusory; seeing a form, one must not cling to it—once one clings, the form vanishes.

The illusory changes that appear before the eyes can sometimes unsettle the spirit so that it cannot rest—as when a pearl or a “moon of nature” appears (cultivation imagery for the light of original nature). Such things belong to the class of visions that may arise in the course of practice. Even when you see them, do not fix on them; once you take them as real and cling, they too will vanish.

At first such a vision may look like a tiny star; it gradually grows larger and brighter until it resembles a pearl. Its light is dazzling—you may see it with eyes open or closed—hence it is called the “night-shining pearl.” What is meant here is the “pearl of nature” (the pearl-like image symbolizing the light of original nature).

In the work of dual cultivation of nature and life (cultivating both mind-nature and the life of the body), moon-like appearances may also occur. Daoist books use such metaphors often: what appears before the eyes is called xiang (phenomenal image); what one personally undergoes in practice is called jing (inner scene). In cultivation there may be images and scenes at every turn, yet neither image should be kept in the mind nor scene retained on the body—in short, nothing should be grasped.

These images arise from the joining of Yin and Yang qi. They usually show themselves in states of vagueness and trance, much as earth qi steams upward and, touched by sunlight in the sky, turns into shifting colored clouds. When Yin and Yang within the person unite, similar illusory sights may appear. Yang qi has light; Yin qi has color; light and color reflect each other, and all sorts of images manifest. The Diamond Sutra says: “All forms that appear are empty and deceptive.” Daoist texts also say “do not cling to images”—both warn lest practitioners be bewitched and stuck in these sights.

The two characters wenyang (warm nurturing) encapsulate the work of regulating the “fire” (timing and intensity) in cultivation. “Warm” means neither too cold nor too hot; “nurture” means to hold within and foster. If one falls into stubborn, empty stillness, the Water grows cold; if thoughts never cease, the Fire turns dry and hot. When Water is cold and Fire is dry, one cannot form the “elixir pearl” (a symbolic image in practice for the coalescing of the inner elixir).

Therefore one should “maintain emptiness and guard the fundamental”—neither forcing progress nor neglecting it—so that the work stays mild; and one should nurture continuously without excessive strain. Then the originally hidden true nature can gradually brighten, and the innate root (the life-foundation one is born with) can step by step stabilize. This is what is meant by “tending and nurturing the Yin E” (carefully fostering the foundation where the inner elixir gathers).

Fifth discourse: When emptiness and stillness reach their utmost, and one is single-minded and steadfast, one can then examine feeling and intent and merge with original nature. The method of cultivating the “two openings” will naturally connect one with the divine.

The Qie (Covenant) says: “Yellow within gradually opens to principle; moistening reaches the skin. When the beginning is correct, the end can be cultivated; when the stem stands firm, the tip can be sustained. The One uses concealment—ordinary people never know it.” This describes the fruits of lianji (refining the self / cultivating mind-nature): when the linggen (spiritual root, the inner root of life) is regained and the heart resonates with the Dao, one can attain penetration. Settle in quiet and abide in emptiness, thereby nourishing the root of nature, and the original true nature can gradually be restored.

Turn inward to contemplate the body, gather the senses and keep the spirit from racing outward, then huiguang (returning the light inward)—and the linggen will gradually grow and condense into a “spirit pearl,” used to restore the primordial yuanshen (original spirit) of chaos. This is the perspective of inner cultivation.

The key to inner nourishment is “settling” (an). “Settling” means moving from forced effort to genuine stability. At the start of lianji, the six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—constantly chase outward, so the spirit is hard to quiet; one must therefore exert effort in xiding (practicing stillness) until stray thoughts lessen and one approaches wuwei (non-action). With long practice, body and mind naturally settle into “quiet emptiness”: cultivation runs of itself without deliberate exertion, and intrusive thoughts subside without forced suppression.

Then light arises from a stilled mind, and in the void appears a point of “true Yang” (the yang vitality spoken of in neidan [internal alchemy])—the xingguang (light of nature) that was hidden and not yet manifest. It forms the “mysterious aperture” (xuanqiao) of the central palace, just as the Jindan Sibai Zi (Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir) says: “The medicine arises at the mysterious aperture.” This point of true Yang is the “great medicine.” At first it is born in emptiness and stillness and has not yet touched the body; one must therefore ningshen (concentrate the spirit) into the qixue (the locus where spirit gathers and qi is nurtured in neidan), warming and nurturing this “child pearl”; the child pearl is the true Yang that has been generated.

“Three lights sink into obscurity” refers to concentrating the spirit into the qixue. The qixue is also the “mysterious aperture”; the medicine is also called the “wondrous aperture,” and also “fire”—the names differ but the referent is one, and few know this. Though this medicine and aperture cannot be seen, in truth they are very close to the person and easy to seek.

When spirit and qi gather inward and unite, the three palaces—the three dantian or main seats of qi in the body—become full. The inner pivot stirs and a fine sound or breath appears; then “yellow at the center penetrating to principle” (huang zhong tong li) emerges.

“Huang zhong jian tong li” comes from the Kun hexagram in the Book of Changes: “Yellow at the center, penetrating to principle; occupying the correct position in the body; beauty within, flowing out to the four limbs.” It means that when there is inner resonance, the outer body responds in turn. Li here means the ordering of qi in Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate); li can also be read as “inner” (li) or “ritual propriety” (li), suggesting movement from outside toward the inside. Thus when inner fullness is beautiful and complete, the four limbs feel open and at ease. Only when “huang zhong tong li” is reached do the effects show in oneself—this is what the Golden Elixir in Four Hundred Characters calls “the yang furnace of fire timing” (huohou fa yang lu).

After stripping is complete, yang qi begins to return; the Fu hexagram images the first line of Qian, where yang reappears. In Kun, at the fifth line stillness has reached an extreme: the fourth line’s “tie the mouth of the sack” images the time when all things return to the root; the fifth line’s “yellow lower garment, supreme good fortune” images holding correctness and issuing primordial yuan qi, so the myriad things receive their mandate anew. The hexagram then becomes Jin (Fire over Earth); the Image says, “The noble person makes his bright virtue (ming de) manifest to himself.” Here ming de is the ordering of qi in primordial Taiji; “self-manifest bright virtue” means to bring forth the virtue one already possesses.

“Huang zhong tong li” is the process in which principle-qi resonates and true yang (primordial yang qi) arrives and penetrates; the four limbs feel it first, then ease and expansion follow. The Xian (Influence) hexagram also uses bodily sensation as imagery: the first line says “influence in the big toe,” then influence in the calf, the thigh, and finally the cheeks and tongue.

When external yang (the initial yang that arises in cultivation) arrives, the hands and feet are the first to feel it. As the sensation gradually stabilizes, it slowly spreads through the whole body. This process can be compared to the sequence of hexagrams in the Yijing from Fu (Return) through Lin, Tai, Da Zhuang, and Guai to Qian (The Creative): yang grows from little to much and gradually fills to fullness. Yin and yang, soft and hard, begin to interact, like clouds moving and rain falling, so that the myriad things connect and flourish. Then a single yin comes to meet yang, and saliva appears under the tongue. Thus the resonance symbolized by the Xian (Influence) hexagram is located between the cheek and the tongue. Shao Yong’s line “all thirty-six palaces are spring” means that when true yang is felt entering every part of the body, a mild, harmonious qi fills the whole person.

The formless method of cultivation uses yin to nourish and yang to penetrate: here “yin” means emptiness and “yang” means subtle presence. For the physical body, yin moistens and yang penetrates: here “yang” refers to gold essence (the refined qi spoken of in cultivation), and “yin” to wood fluid (the refined fluid spoken of in cultivation). Lü Dongbin’s line “I know how to arrange the four yin and yang” refers to this pairing of yin and yang.

“Yellow lower garment” (huang chang) denotes the yellow at the center; “primordial” (yuan) denotes the first yang that penetrates. When yang first begins to circulate, it is called “auspicious.” The “auspicious reception of qi” in the Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine) has the same meaning. From “enduring rectitude” (yong zhen) in the Kun hexagram up to the fifth line, one holds correctness amid full yin; at the limit of yin, yang is born. The top line is where yin and yang have already joined, hence the image of “dragons battling.” The Cantong Qi (Token of the Agreement of the Three) also says: “Gold sand enters the five viscera; mist scatters like wind and rain; steaming permeates the four limbs, and the complexion becomes joyful and fair.” This means that a point of true yang arises from stillness and emptiness, just as when yin is at its peak a single yang returns. Therefore Laozi said: “Stillness is called returning to destiny.” The newly generated yang gathers at the mysterious aperture (the key opening spoken of in cultivation); the mysterious aperture is also the yellow center.

This stream of qi connects inward from Huangzhong—the inner dantian region at the body’s center—with the whole body. The root of human spirituality still lies in the xuanqiao, the innate aperture spoken of in cultivation, while qi has already filled the four limbs and runs through upper and lower, so the skin grows warm and moist. Can Tong Qi Chan You (Explaining the Obscure in the Unity of the Three) says: “Warm and nurture the ‘child pearl’ (a metaphor in internal alchemy); neither forget it nor force it to grow. In time, spirit-nature arises on its own, gradually reaching the four limbs until the entire body above and below is connected and the skin is warm and moist.” When the nine apertures, the hundred vessels, the three hundred sixty joints, and the eighty-four thousand pores of the body are all open and clear, one naturally appears lustrous and smooth, and responsive awareness becomes unobstructed. This is the situation the text describes.

“Beauty dwells within” means that yin-yang intercourse still takes place within the xuanqiao. In Journey to the West, after Sun Wukong enters the Water Curtain Cave he is called the “Handsome Monkey King”; the author reads a hidden layer here as well: the monkey corresponds to “shen” in the twelve earthly branches, and the character “shen” contains “yi” (one) in its middle—by this device it symbolizes “zhong” (center). The arrangement is ingeniously layered. This root is what heaven and earth naturally endow to human beings; sadly, few in the world grasp its empty subtlety.

The two lines “upright at the start, cultivate to the end; establish the stem, hold the tip” mean that quiet nurturing is extremely important and that practice must advance step by step. In cultivating the Dao, intention must be upright; the so-called “thought of no-thought” is true right intention and alone can trigger inner generative transformation. Clinging to “being” or clinging to “non-being” both miss the way of practice. Hence it is said: be upright at the beginning and only then can you complete cultivation; establish the root and the branches can be held.

“The One” can veil people’s understanding so they do not know it is there. The classic says “obtain the One and all affairs are complete”; here “the One” means the one qi of Taiji (the source qi before heaven and earth divided). It stands alone and wondrous, situated before yin and yang have split, and so it can generate the ten thousand things and perform spiritual transformation. In human beings it is the root nature of qian yuan—primordial heaven—and is the innate primordial spirit (yuan shen). Regrettably people are often obscured by the acquired consciousness (shi shen), the postnatal mind and discriminating heart; they do not know they have this root, do not know how to seek it, and thus drift ever farther from the Dao.

From the perspective of Ming (life), before the primordial Qi of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) divides into Yin-Yang, it is innate true Yang—the root of life in all things. Human beings receive it and thereby take form; hence it is called the “treasure of Ming.” Once the body matures, this Qi sinks to the Mingmen (Gate of Life, the locus in the lower back and waist tied to the root of life), then further to Yin Qiao (the hidden pass in the lower body spoken of in Neidan), deep and hard to discern. People draw on it every day yet do not know they are depleting it in the process.

Xing (nature) and Ming are really one substance. When one first receives primordial Qi, Xing and Ming are not yet split; once they separate, obscuration follows. The world mostly follows outward habit and forgets the root. The Knocking the Yao Song says: “Whisper the subtle formula at the ear; lift it to the first peak of Penglai.” The meaning is that the cultivator must lift the Qi that has sunk in the Kan palace (symbolizing water, the kidneys, and the lower body) and send it up to the Li palace (symbolizing fire, the heart, and the upper body).

“Whisper at the ear” means reining in the senses of ear and eye: not chasing sight and sound outward, but gathering sight inward, returning hearing, keeping still and looking within, and also holding back speech. The Kan trigram corresponds to the ear; the Dui trigram to the mouth. Words leave the mouth; sound enters the ear—mouth and ear connect. The crux is guarding the one aperture of emptiness, nurturing true presence in Wuwei (non-action), drawing innate true Yang from the Taiyuan (the deep seat where Qi is stored) so it returns to the symbolic height of inner refinement called “Penglai peak,” and is kept within the ear.

The text also uses the story of Sun Wukong taking the golden fillet rod in Journey to the West: he goes under the iron bridge into the Dragon King’s palace under the Eastern Sea and takes the rod from the sea treasury. The author likens the crystal palace to the Yin Qiao barrier; “Red Rump” to the Xun trigram region between the legs, and “Through-Arms” to the Gen trigram region where both hands descend and hold the gate. The golden fillet rod symbolizes Qi—it can grow or shrink, touch heaven and earth or change at will; shrunk to the smallest, it is like an embroidery needle hidden in the ear. Both Mingmen and the ear belong to Kan, so the author holds that Qi at the two places communicates. The scripture finds this analogy extremely apt and worth taking as reference.

The Classic also says: “The three treasures—ears, eyes, and mouth—must be gathered and sealed, not allowed to open outward.” This means withdrawing the gaze and listening inward with full attention.

“The true person sinks into the deep abyss, floating and dwelling within the compass-center.” “Compass-center” (guizhong) denotes the empty place where spirit-mind (shen) settles; “floating” means that in practice one stays natural—neither forcing nor slackening—which is the firing (huohou) of “neither forget nor force” (wu wang wu zhu). The “three treasures” here are the “three lights” (san guang) mentioned earlier: from the angle of concentrating spirit they are called “three lights”; from the angle of essence, qi, and spirit (jing, qi, shen) they are called “three treasures.”

“Turn and bend sight and hearing” means bringing vision and hearing back into the body with single-minded focus. “Bend” (qu) means starting from one point and advancing step by step; through such gradual practice one can reach utmost sincerity. “Opening and closing all accord in union” means that with each exhalation and inhalation, yin qi gathers and yang qi expands, so breathing is neither rushed nor sluggish and matches the rhythm of practice. From this line it is clear that “mouth” here does not mean the mouth used for speech.

This is the foremost requirement in cultivation, hence it is called “the pivot and bridle for oneself, in movement and stillness without end”: the key to one’s own practice, keeping the work unbroken and the foundation firm; true breath (zhenxi)—the inner breathing felt in cultivation—circulates back and forth without limit.

After this is achieved, “Li qi” can “take in ying and wei.” “Li qi” is the qi of the Li trigram; here it is said to become the “wood liquid” (muye) described above, passing from beneath the tongue through the “multi-storied tower” (chonglou, the throat) to enter ying and wei and nourish the body. In the Daoist tradition this process is called “jade liquid refining the form” (yuye lianxing).

“Kan then need not employ keen hearing” means that after Li qi returns to the Kun position, the yang within Kan rises back to Qian; when metal qi is full, Kan qi naturally no longer leaks outward. Kan is singled out here with a deeper meaning, to be explained later when discussing the stages of practice. The Dui trigram is no longer discussed—using fewer words to accord with the primordial Hongmeng state, so that spirit and qi do not scatter outward. The word “close” (he) carries a double sense; it is not merely shutting the lips.

The ears, eyes, and mouth are the three focal points of practice. “Relax the body and dwell in a quiet, empty room” means gathering in the ears, eyes, and mouth so the senses do not scatter outward. “Entrust the mind to emptiness and take no-thought as the norm” is to cultivate in a state of utmost sincerity, single-pointedness, quiet, and emptiness. The phrase “entrust the will” (weizhi) shows that this is not a dead, do-nothing void: the single word “will” (zhi) indicates that even while resting in still emptiness, the true intent (zhenyi) still guards within.

“Let the heart be single and not scatter toward the four directions” means keeping the spirit from straying beyond the square inch (fangcun)—the inner center. The character for “ten” is one horizontal and one vertical stroke crossing; their meeting is the center. If spirit runs horizontally and vertically in distraction, it misses this aperture. “In sleep, spirit and qi embrace each other” means using spirit to hold qi so that breath continues without break. “Upon waking, one perceives what lives and what perishes” means noticing the “live zi hour” and “live wu hour” (huozi shi, huowu shi)—moments in internal alchemy (neidan) when yang qi stirs; when the timing arrives, spirit and intent can be aware of it.

As practice deepens, the complexion gradually becomes moist and bright, the bones firm, yin in the body recedes, and yang returns. “If cultivation is unbroken, qi moves like clouds and rain”: yang qi circulates within like clouds passing; cool, clear fluid descends like rain. It is like spring rain moistening the earth or ice and snow melting—flowing downward and also rising upward, cycling between the head and Yongquan (the acupoint at the sole of the foot).

This qi moves within the “cave of the limitless” (wuji dong)—the image of a void, still inner realm—and also passes between the greater and lesser voids. Because the bones and joints of the postnatal body are partly closed off, only this aperture of emptiness stays open and connected pulse by pulse. The qi seems to come and go outside the body, yet in fact it links everywhere with the eight extraordinary vessels and the nine meridians of the whole body.

Master Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan), the internal alchemy master, writes in the Eight Vessels Scripture: “The Yin Qiao (Yin Heel) acupoint—the key point named in internal alchemy practice—is the hub around which the body’s eight extraordinary vessels and nine meridians all gather. When Yin Qiao moves, the eight vessels and nine meridians move with it.” The reason the so-called “void acupoint” can connect with the eight vessels and nine meridians lies precisely here.

The meaning of the preceding and following chapters is largely the same: the earlier chapter focuses on “refining the self” (cultivating mind-nature), while this chapter covers both the work of dual cultivation of nature and life and the changes in timing and fire phases. Here the essentials of true cultivation practice have been fully laid out.

In Neidan discourse it is often said to “use the false to cultivate the true.” What this means is to rely on the temporary, illusory “false self” in order to refine the real “true self.”

As for the body, the corporeal form—the visible fleshly body—is the “false self,” while the Dharma body—the body realized through cultivation—is the “true self.” As for the mind, the Yuan Shen (primordial spirit), the innate divine awareness one originally possesses, is the “true self,” while the Shi Shen (discriminating consciousness), the acquired faculty of distinction and labeling, is the “false self.” As for intention, delusive intent is the “false self,” and true intent is the “true self.”

Taken as a whole, what is true is wholly true, and what is false is wholly false. The Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) formed in postnatal life are all false; only the primordial Yuan Jing, Yuan Qi, and Yuan Shen are called true. Returning these three to their source is termed “complete truth” (Quanzhen). Yet for people in postnatal life who have already left the primordial state, Jing, Qi, and Shen are all false—so in practice, from where can one obtain this “complete truth” to replace what is false?

The Dharma body is the “true self.” Before the Dharma body is realized and the true self has not yet appeared, there is no need to get stuck on the labels true and false; whether called true or false, it is still the self on which cultivation relies. One should use the false self to draw forth the true self; Daoist texts call this “cultivating the true precisely through the false.” When the delusive aspect is removed, the true nature naturally shines forth.

For example, the discriminating consciousness belongs to the false self, and drawing forth the true self begins from the discriminating consciousness. At the start of practice one still employs the discriminating consciousness in the work: with sincerity, single-mindedness, and secrecy in cultivation, rectifying the inner mind and making intention honest, so that the six consciousnesses of the false self—sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mental discrimination—are merged into one consciousness. The Buddhist sutras speak of “gathering the three minds and extinguishing the four marks.” The “three minds” are the mind of the past, the mind of the future, and the mind of the present. Gathering the three minds means letting go of thoughts that chase the past or plan the future, so the mind rests in the present. The Gen hexagram of the Book of Changes says: “The noble person’s thinking does not go beyond his place.” That is, the noble person’s reflections do not overstep the position he presently occupies; here it means responding as things arrive and abiding in the mind of the moment. The “four marks” are the mark of a person, the mark of a self, the mark of sentient beings, and the mark of a lifespan; the Diamond Sutra explains them in detail.

Gathering all things within and without body and mind into one place, holding to this single thought, then returning even that held thought into emptiness—the Yuan Shen (original spirit, the innate spirit not ruled by sensory consciousness) will appear. At the outset, however, one should not rush straight toward emptiness. In practicing the elixir method, one first works from “being”—as Lu Qianxu, the Ming-dynasty adept, put it.

When you first sit in quiet practice, if you cannot yet be fully still and wuwei (non-action), that is because true wuwei must be preceded by the discipline of “being watchful in solitude” (shidu—guarding the mind when alone). If the body is still but the heart is not clear, what is the use? Therefore one must first have sincerity (chengyi) before one can reach true clarity. Once truly clear, one need not force wuwei; wuwei comes of itself.

“True intent” (zhenyi) is sincerity: gathering the six consciousnesses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mental discrimination) into one focused thought. That thought seems to be there and yet not; as if retained, as if forgotten; no idle thoughts within, no intrusive thoughts from without. When practice is mature, the inner mind is naturally clear and intent is sincere and single.

Then the heart is one undifferentiated chaos, without distinguishing or knowing; color, sound, scent, flavor, touch, and mental objects (the six kinds of object in Buddhist teaching) cannot enter. In the void there seems to be a solitary clarity, yet without actual perception or knowing—like an infant wholly following innate simplicity. It is neither deliberately thinking nor utterly without thought. Confucians call this “sincerity of intent” (chengyi), Daoists “true intent” (zhenyi), Buddhists “right awakening” (zhengjue). At this point true intent returns to chaos, and the Yuan Shen manifests.

Those who cultivate the Way easily fixate on “being” or “non-being.” If you wish not to fixate, the key is to see clearly what still remains to grasp between the two.

Those who cultivate the Dao often fixate on “being” or “non-being.” To be free of fixation, what remains? That must be tasted for oneself. You can verify it: when thoughts do not arise and the mind does not scatter, and the method is correct, a mass of faintly warm, formless Qi naturally appears at the xuanqiao—the inner key site in practice. It seems like Qi yet is not quite Qi; in truth it is Shen and Qi gathered together, with true intent within, and that is why this appearance arises.

This faintly warm Qi is hard to sustain; stir a thought and it disperses. It is like the gently warmed medicine in the cauldron; without this state, one is “boiling empty space as if it were a cauldron”—merely sitting in stillness and falling into solitary yin and dry lifelessness. The Cantong qi (Commentary on the Triplex Unity) uses spring’s moisture and melting ice as images; both carry the sense of “warmth”—warm nurturing and blending. Fire too strong turns scorching; water too cold loses warmth; feverish heat is excess fire, absence of warmth is excess cold—neither will do. Only gentle, even warmth is the right firing.

After yang essence arises and the lead cauldron (the inner vessel that holds and warms essence) is established, the acquired mind (shishen—the discriminating, postnatal consciousness) recedes and original spirit (yuanshen—the innate luminosity) gathers. What the Cantong qi calls “concentrating spirit to form the body” means gathering original spirit to form the Dharmakaya—the inner body of the practice. Original spirit is master of the Dharmakaya; acquired mind is master of the physical form. Neither leaves the self, yet “I” has a true self and a false self: the true self was never born and never dies; the false self is exhausted when its functions are spent and then perishes.

While the fetus is still in the womb, original spirit gathers into a symbolic form—that is the fetus’s Dharmakaya. When the visible body is fully formed, original spirit steps back and acquired mind takes the lead. At the very beginning of formation comes the “embryonic origin” (taiyuan). That means the form in which nature and life are hidden within and essence-blood wrap without: empty within as root of the Dharmakaya, full without as root of the physical body.

The text also says that seven days after union of man and woman, something appears below the abdomen, about the size of a soybean; in quiet it pulses, downward toward the womb and upward toward the chest. The author calls this a sign of conception and says women who have been pregnant know it. The embryonic origin keeps turning in the belly; in activity acquired mind dominates, so one does not notice. In stillness, when the inner light of awareness looks inward, one becomes aware of it.

Seven days is taken as the time of “return of the first yang”—when yang begins anew. The Old Testament records God creating the world in seven days; the author likewise reads that as drawing on “seven days to complete a cycle.” The cultivator must also refine until this state appears—called the “elixir origin” (danyuan) or “tip of the elixir” (dantou)—whose image resembles the embryonic origin. The elixir origin is the “inner mysterious pass” (nei xuanguan); the mysterious pass has inner and outer, upper and lower aspects, explained further below.

While still in the mother’s womb, the embryonic origin often throbs and pulses. When the Neidan (internal alchemy) has just taken shape, it likewise surges upward to the heart region and descends to the Mingmen (the life gate associated with vital functions in traditional medicine)—a pattern much like that of a fetus—hence the expression “forming the embryo” (jietai).

As the embryonic origin gradually accumulates, the meridians, viscera and bowels, joints and bones, and flesh and skin emerge, and the human body takes form. The body can grow to completion because Shen (spirit) and Qi circulate within, while Jing (essence) and blood nourish and develop it from without. After seven months the fetus is fully formed, yet Shen and Qi still gather as a single mass below the navel, revolving like a wheel. The mother’s breath can pass through the umbilical cord into the fetus, and the fetus breathes in turn—an unceasing cycle—so this is called taixi (embryonic or “fetal” breathing in the womb).

Embryonic breathing rises from below the navel to the Mud Ball Palace (niwan, the upper center in Neidan terminology), descends to Yongquan (a point at the sole of the foot), and spreads through every pore of the body like steam or vapor. The scripture holds that the fetus grows by continually drawing in the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth. Practitioners must also cultivate until they reach the state of embryonic breathing, so that heart and breath depend on each other: in movement they move together, in stillness they rest together, gathering and harmonizing into the “Golden Elixir Cauldron” (zhen jinding)—the place where Jing, Qi, and Shen condense in internal alchemy. Liao Chanhui said: “Face the navel wheel in front and the kidneys behind; in between lies the true Golden Elixir Cauldron.” Li Hanxu said: “Rest before the Kidney Hall and behind the navel wheel, holding fast within the proper measure.” Both point to this same locus. What Buddhist scriptures call “the Dharma wheel turning constantly” is applied here to this circulating operation.

Advancing from embryonic breathing to true breathing, the six pulses cease their beating, Qi returns to the root, and every pore of the body breathes on its own, no longer passing through mouth and nose. Place a goose feather at the nostrils and it will not stir from breath.

Primordial ancestral Qi—the root vitality present from before birth—moves up and down invisibly. What Buddhist scripture calls “turning the great Dharma wheel,” and what Bai Yuchan meant by “the free Heche turning hundreds of times,” refers to this kind of circulation. Heche is a Neidan metaphor for the movement of Qi inside the body.

After ordinary people are born, the prenatal body is already broken: breath only reaches the middle burner (roughly the stomach region) and does not with each breath sink to below the navel. A true person’s breath, with every exhalation and inhalation, returns to the root, reaches deep to the heels, rises and falls along the Ren and Du channels, then spreads through the eight extraordinary vessels and the nine meridians. Zhuangzi said: “The true person’s breath goes down to the heels; the ordinary person’s breath stops at the throat.” Common sayings like “standing firm on one’s heels,” “feet on solid ground,” and “genuine treading and practice” all carry this sense.

Therefore cultivation begins from the Lü (Treading) hexagram. Confucius said: “Lü is the foundation of virtue.” Here “virtue” (de) also means “attainment”—having grasped right principle and right Qi. Heaven’s virtue is unceasing generation, and that generation depends on the circulation of vast Qi; human virtue is the five constants (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, faithfulness) and the four cardinal virtues (propriety, righteousness, integrity, shame), which likewise arise from vast Qi. The Yijing says: “The great person harmonizes their virtue with heaven and earth”—meaning the great person’s conduct aligns with the upright Qi of heaven and earth’s yin and yang.

By cultivating through the conditioned, visible body of later heaven, one can manifest the true Dharmakaya within that very body. Buddhist texts illustrate this with “removing the ore to keep the gold”; Daoist texts speak of “washing sand to find gold”—both mean stripping away impurities so pure gold appears of itself. What is called “the false” here is like ore and sand; remove them, and true gold stands revealed.

Neidan texts compare Yuan Shen (original spirit—the mind’s innate spiritual nature) to cinnabar and mercury, also called “cinnabar mercury” (zhu gong). Cinnabar mercury arises within Zhen wood; it is also called the mysterious qi of the Azure Dragon and belongs to the Wood phase. Within Li Fire there is “wood liquid”; that wood liquid is mercury. Shi Shen (acquired spirit—the discriminating, thinking consciousness of later heaven) is impurity like ore and sand, so wood liquid must be drawn out from it before true mercury can be obtained.

Wood is originally generated by Fire—so why say wood is taken from Fire? Because Shi Shen veils it. Shi Shen is like Fire: when Fire blazes too fiercely, Wood is burned away; when Fire subsides, Wood appears whole. Conversely, bringing Wood forth from Fire embeds concrete practice within that image.

Cinnabar mercury is true mercury. For mercury to be generated in the elixir cauldron, silver must first be placed in the Jade Pool. Here “cauldron” means the greater and lesser voids. The Wuzhen Pian (Understanding Reality) says: “To keep cinnabar mercury in the golden cauldron, first put ‘silver in water’ into the jade pool”—meaning watery mercury is introduced first, then cinnabar mercury is drawn out.

The analogy is subtle: mercury is cinnabar mercury; cinnabar comes from mercury. Cinnabar and mercury were originally one mineral substance; only with mercury can cinnabar be refined from it, and cinnabar can in turn be refined back into mercury. In cultivation, Shi Shen must first be unified in single-pointedness, then placed in the cauldron; only then does Yuan Shen appear. Shi Shen attaches to form and thereby produces knowing awareness; now, placing it in empty void without further attachment, consciousness can turn into wisdom and Yuan Shen is restored.

Huang Yishi once served as an official in Yunnan and Guangxi and personally witnessed cinnabar and mercury refining and smelting each other; he left a record that is very precise.

What is described here from the Wu Zhen (Wu Zhen Pian, Understanding Reality) is precisely “cultivating the true by borrowing the false”: using the visible body and ordinary mental and bodily activity to refine the authentic nature and life (xing and ming).

The distinctions and transformations among the Primordial Spirit (Yuanshen, the authentic spirit), the Conscious Spirit (Shishen, the discriminating, thinking mind), and intention (yi) are explained one by one below. At first there is Wuji (the undifferentiated, empty stillness before division); Wuji turns into Taiji (the whole before yin and yang separate). Taiji is originally empty, yet it holds a tendency to stir; in the moment between stirring and not stirring, it is still void.

When Taiji stirs, yang arises; the dot in the diagram stands for innate li-qi (the fundamental principle and qi you are born with). When yang reaches its peak, li-qi fills Taiji; at the extreme of movement one must turn to stillness. In stillness, one divides into two, forming qi with form—that is yin. Yin and yang each occupy a side and become the Two Modes (Liangyi); the Two Modes divide further and become the Four Images (Sixiang).

In the earlier diagrams, the first explains the principles of how heaven and earth arise and change; the second explains how human life arises and changes, in the same great transformation as heaven and earth. The “emptiness” in the third diagram is nature without form or appearance; “yuan” (origin) must take authentic emptiness as its root. The fourth contrasts nature with desire, showing that xing and ming have already split into two sides—that is human nature.

Yuanxing (primordial nature) is the substance of nature, given to the person by heaven. When one receives qi and the embryo forms, there is not yet a bodily shape. This must be distinguished clearly and not confused. Yuanxing is what “the nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth” points to—it is the Dao.

The Yuanshen in the fifth diagram is nature in its active phase: when still undifferentiated it is called “yi” (intention); when clear and aware it is called “jue” (awakening). The liangzhi (innate knowing) in the sixth diagram goes a step further. “Jue” is not yet concrete knowing; from jue comes knowing, and with knowing comes action—this capacity is called liangneng (innate ability). Knowing is rooted within; ability shows outward.

The “conscious spirit” (shishen) discussed in the seventh diagram refers to the spirit-awareness formed by postnatal thinking and deliberation. One must therefore distinguish “thought” (nian) from “cognition” (shi): thought arises from within and is actively initiated; cognition takes shape in the external environment and is produced under the influence of the outer world.

The “primordial feeling” (yuanqing) in the eighth diagram is the feeling humans originally possess—not the seven emotions formed after birth. It is the response of innate nature when stirred by the external world; in understanding it, one must also analyze carefully.

Nature (xing) resides within; feeling (qing) responds to the external world. Nature takes the heart-mind as its master; feeling manifests through the body. Nature is originally still and unmoving; when it is stimulated, it can connect with outer things and appear as sharp awareness. Feeling originally moves with circumstances; if bound to external objects, it turns into cognitive desire. Buddhist scriptures treat “contact” and “dharmas” separately: when the body senses the outer world, that is called “contact” (chu), which belongs to feeling; what is stored in the heart-mind as knowledge and ideas is called “dharma” (fa), which belongs to nature. Since the substance of nature is empty and still, dharmas have no fixed essence; nature cannot be put into words, and dharmas likewise cannot be put into words. The mind is dharma, and dharma is mind—hence the term “mind-dharma” (xinfa).

Everyone shares the same heart-mind, and within it the same principle holds, so people can “mind seal mind” (xinxin xiangyin)—grasp Bodhi (enlightenment) from a single phrase. Feeling, by contrast, arises from external causes and conditions; triggered through the six sense objects (liuchen: form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects), the inner mind is stirred and vital essence (jing) and qi dissipate accordingly—this is what is meant by “internal leakage following the external” (nei sui wai lou).

Thus feeling has inner and outer aspects, whereas nature has no inner-outer division. What has no inner-outer division is called “center” (zhong); though inner and outer may be distinguished, when they issue naturally from original innocence, that is called “harmony” (he). “Center” is the root; “harmony” is the expression. Returning from expression to root, and from root harmonizing expression—this is the principle of “dual cultivation of inner and outer” (neiwai shuangxiu).

Primordial feeling is originally good, yet it can change through postnatal habituation; nature is the empty, still substrate and is not something that “changes.” What does not change has no birth and death; what changes has birth and death. Feeling changes because cognition causes it—hence it is also called “feeling-cognition” (qingshi).

Yi (intention) is the state in which the original mind is on the verge of stirring and has just shown the slightest trace of motive. It may at once arise, vanish, and shift; it is produced by the discriminating mind (the mind that separates and cognizes things), and for that reason is also called qingshi (emotion-and-cognition). When that motive has not yet come clearly into view, it is true yi; those who cultivate the Dao should train this true yi.

Jue (awakening/awareness) goes a step beyond yi: when mind-and-thought stir, clear awareness is already present. The difference between jue and yi is that one is sharply discriminating and clear, the other undifferentiated and whole. Jue seems empty yet is not wholly empty; true yi rests in the mutual interpenetration of form and emptiness. Liangzhi (innate moral knowing)—the moral awareness one originally possesses—springs from jue: a undifferentiated accord with heavenly principle, issuing spontaneously in line with nature. There is awareness, yet no mind that splits right from wrong and no mind of likes and dislikes. One step further is liangneng (innate moral capacity).

Liangzhi and liangneng are originally one. To know is at once to act; in acting the mind does not twist or hesitate. After acting one does not cling to the act—this is “when things come, respond in accord.” Liangzhi may be compared to what the Book of Changes says of Qian: “easy in knowing”; liangneng to what it says of Kun: “simple in capacity.” The Great Dao is inherently plain and easy; it comes precisely from liangzhi and liangneng: knowledge and action as one, and no clinging after action—this is the Great Dao. Knowing and capacity must be one; if they are not one, they are not true liangzhi and liangneng, and no further turning of thought can arise within them.

When Liu Wuyuan annotated the Yinfu Jing, he named these “spirit-knowing” (lingzhi) and “true knowing” (zhenzhi): lingzhi is clear awakening (mingjue), zhenzhi is true yi. From yi can arise zhi (will/intent), and true yi can also take shape. A single point of true yi, pure and unchanging, is zhi; neither clinging to things nor standing apart from them is cheng (sincerity/authenticity). When the mind neither turns thought nor raises fresh deliberation, but keeps this undifferentiated state, that is cheng. Zhi is firmer than yi: to move one thought-intention and never alter it, to guard it steadily, is called zhi. Mencius said, “Hold fast to your zhi; do not violently throw off your qi” (Mencius, “Gongsun Chou,” Part I)—he meant this.

Nian (thought/idea), however, is not the same as yi. Nian issues from shishen (the discriminating, deliberative mind). Yi is still on the verge of movement, not yet moved, undifferentiated; nian already points clearly at some affair or object. Once yi settles and becomes definite, it becomes nian. Daoist writings therefore call nian the spirit of deliberative thought: looking back on the past is xiang (recollection), planning the future is lu (concern), weighing the present is si (thinking).

In one’s thoughts there is only past and future, not the present. Reflecting on what is immediately at hand already includes awareness; it is only that deliberation weighs a little more heavily than awareness—and this is what is called “right mindfulness.” The Image Commentary on the Gen hexagram in the Book of Changes says: “The superior person does not let thought go beyond his place.” “Does not go beyond” here means not entangling past and future.

Right mindfulness is close to the Dao; hence Buddhist scriptures speak of “returning and merging the three minds”: dispelling thinking and pondering so that the mind comes back to this single thought-moment in the present. The aim of cultivating thought lies precisely here. Past, future, and present may also be called the “three realms” or the “three minds”; when thoughts of past and future are merged into the present, thought (nian) turns into awareness (jue).

Thought arises when it is triggered by something outside; yi (intention) is the original mind moving of itself. Both shi (cognition) and thought arise from triggering; shi here means knowledge and discriminating judgment—right and wrong, like and dislike, all come from shi. Before thought has fully shown itself outwardly, at the level of shi, inner discrimination is fully displayed.

The various functions that belong to xing (nature) all proceed from spontaneous activity within the mind; those that belong to qing (emotion) arise as like and dislike when external things trigger them. When external things touch the heart, they appear inwardly as thought; when, after being touched by external things, they show in outward behavior, that is called shi. Thought and shi act on each other, yet they are not the same: when yi turns, it becomes thought; when jue turns, it becomes shi. Good may turn to evil, emptiness to existence—the reason life goes off course lies here. Distinguish them carefully as follows:

Some people call true intent (zhenyi) the "wish-fulfilling pearl": true intent is as round and pure as a luminous pearl, yet it can vanish in an instant. Once true intent turns into thoughts, and thoughts follow one after another, false thoughts will seize and replace true intent. Buddhism uses prayer beads (mala); it is said they symbolize turning wandering thoughts into the "wish-fulfilling pearl."

Only the "sword of wisdom" (huijian) can cut through these thoughts. The sword of wisdom is a person's true intent and yuanshen (original spirit—the authentic spiritual self). The innate knowing, innate capacity, and clear awareness within yuanshen all belong to the root of wisdom (huigen), which is also the spiritual root (linggen). Only by taking this spiritual root as a sword can one sever evil thoughts, for only the true self can remove the false self.

The root of knowledge (zhigen) comes from the bardo (zhongyin—the transitional state between death and rebirth). The bardo is also the hun (soul). Since beginningless time, it has countless times been the master of a life. From antiquity through the Three Dynasties, Han, Tang, Six Dynasties, Five Dynasties, Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing, and other eras, people are reborn again and again, hence the phrase "wandering through birth and death"—like waves on a river, each wave pushing the next, ceaselessly flowing. The bardo carries knowledge left from previous lives; this is the root of knowledge. Some remember past lives from birth; some feel they have read a book before; some write as if the text were already formed in the mind—all are effects of zhigen.

The root of wisdom (huigen) is the spiritual root of Heaven and Earth; the root of knowledge is the spiritual root accumulated through many rebirths. There is also the karmic root (yegen), arising from good and evil karma accumulated in past lives. What cultivation calls "opening wisdom" means uniting knowledge and wisdom into "penetration" (tong). If a person can penetrate the three realms and ten directions, as well as past and future, they do so through zhigen and huigen. Huigen is also the primordial spiritual responsiveness (xian tian de lingji); "ji" here means the power to activate and operate.

Spiritual root (huigen) is the innate spirituality and capacity one is born with. When it can be activated, it is called “ji” (the trigger or mechanism). Hence Daoist texts speak of “the ji is about to move” and “motivation has already arisen.” Before the ji moves, there is originally emptiness; once the ji moves, being arises—this is “emptiness does not obstruct wondrous being.” When the ji rests, one returns to emptiness—this is “wondrous being does not obstruct emptiness.”

What cultivators call “huohou” (cultivation timing)—for example, “when the moon is full depends on the oral formula; how to seize the moment lies in mind-to-mind transmission”—also refers to this same “ji.” True intent (zhenyi) is the living ji; thoughts produced by the acquired consciousness (shishen, the postnatal mind of discrimination and deliberation) are called “shaji” (killing ji). The Yinfu Jing says “Heaven, Earth, and humanity all have shaji”—meaning change that follows the course of cosmic transformation.

Both living ji and killing ji are states in which intention has just begun to stir. “Within favor there is harm” means true intent turns into thought, and thought may bring harm; “within harm there is favor” means thought ceases and returns to intent, and intent is beneficial. The Wuzhen Pian says: “If you can understand how shaji turns and returns, you will know that within harm benefit can also arise.”

These two states convert into each other: if you notice intention stirring but do not know how to stop, intent becomes thought; when discriminating thought stops, consciousness also stops—that is awakening (jue). The shift is extremely subtle; thoughts follow one after another—Buddhism calls this “affliction.” The Yuanjue Jing says “affliction is the seed of samsara”; if you drift with every thought, you enter the wheel of rebirth.

The mind of right and wrong, like and dislike, is collectively called “guai” (obstruction or attachment). Seeing things and at once producing discriminating thoughts is guai; with guai comes birth and death. When the mind has no guai, one can reach purity. Intention and guai are karmic burdens in life, yet yin and yang arise relative to each other and act on each other: when affliction stops, one returns to intent; when guai stops, one returns to awakening; both arise from emptiness. From non-being comes being; from nature arise intent and awakening, from emotion arise thought and consciousness.

"Non-movement" (budong) takes two forms: one is true emptiness (zhen kong), the other is obstinate emptiness (wan kong). Obstinate emptiness gives rise to thoughts and a discriminating mind; true emptiness gives rise to true intent (zhenyi) and awareness (juezhi)—that is the difference between them.

Buddhism speaks of "transforming consciousness into wisdom" (hua shi wei zhi) and also "turning consciousness into wisdom" (zhuan shi cheng zhi); the Weishi Lun (Treatise on Consciousness-Only) explains this in detail. There are eight kinds of consciousness; the seventh is called manas consciousness (manas shi), from which one can trace back to what the eighth consciousness refers to as the Original Spirit (yuanshen). The seventh consciousness is also called the "transmitting consciousness" (chuansong shi)—"transmitting" here means awareness. The principle of converting consciousness into wisdom is no different from the Daoist approach.

The Diamond Sutra says: "One should dwell nowhere and yet give rise to the mind." Here "mind" is none other than true intent. The sutra also speaks of emptying the four marks and removing the three minds. Immortal and Buddhist traditions use different names for "mind-nature" (xinxing), which can seem subtly distinct, yet they point to the same truth.

The sutra says what "cannot be spoken," and also that "all marks are illusory" and that "only when one is apart from all marks does one see the true mind." What Buddhism calls anuttara-samyak-sambodhi means unsurpassed perfect enlightenment—that is, wisdom, the innate luminous awareness of original nature (yuanxing). However, the faculty that generates and nurtures opens from the root of prajna (huigen), while the faculty that stills and subdues opens from the root of wisdom (zhigen)—a point not spelled out in detail in Buddhist teaching.

This kind of practice—using the body and methods of cultivation to experience the true realm—requires dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu): cultivating both mind-nature and physical life together. Those with deep spiritual capacity may cultivate nature alone; Buddhism calls this the “sudden and complete method” (yuandun fa). Dual cultivation of nature and life belongs to the “gradual method” (jian fa). In fact sudden and gradual methods are mutually root and function: after gradual cultivation, those with deep capacity may also focus solely on nature; after gradual practice one still needs sudden awakening to penetrate thoroughly; after sudden awakening one must still cultivate step by step to reach completion.

The sudden method means not having to cultivate life (ming) first, but returning in one step to emptiness, joining one’s own emptiness with the emptiness of heaven and earth. When accomplished, one can naturally manifest countless bodies; when cultivation of nature is complete, cultivation of life is included within it. This path requires someone of deep capacity, which is why Master Zhang Ziyang taught both sudden and gradual methods together.

There are nine grades of elixir methods; the highest single vehicle is the most true and subtle Dao—the gate spoken of here. The great method of dual cultivation is only this one vehicle; there is no other. Since Wang Chongyang’s time the related teachings have been explained in great detail. Older Daoist books often used allegory and hidden language; now there are plain statements: taking the Supreme Void (taixu) as the cauldron and the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) as the furnace. Cauldron and furnace are alchemical terms; here they mean the foundation that holds and transforms in practice.

The Cantong qi says: “Upper De is wuwei (non-action); it does not rely on seeking by inspection; lower De acts, and its use never ceases.” This is the difference between sudden and gradual methods. One of upper De follows non-action and does not deliberately seek; one of lower De acts and applies effort without stopping.

The Cantongqi says: “Upper De practices wuwei (non-action); one need not deliberately seek and inspect. Lower De engages in action; the work of cultivation never ceases.” This speaks to the difference between sudden enlightenment and gradual refinement. Upper De follows the path of wuwei; lower De follows the path of deliberate practice. Upper De cultivates the nature of mind (xing) alone; lower De cultivates both mind-nature and life-essence (xingming).

Master Liu Huayang in the Huimingjing says: “Upper De is the body before innocence is lost. One should begin practice on the ‘one day of the five thousand four hundred births of the Yellow Path’—when true yang is full—and can then suddenly awaken to the Dao. The method seems wuwei, yet nothing is left undone. Lower De belongs to one who has already ‘broken the body’ and must use deliberate gongfu. Upper De is a purely yang body and need not lay a foundation; lower De has broken the body and lost true yang, so one must first lay a foundation.” Here “laying a foundation” means first nourishing and restoring the root needed for practice.

“Upper De is wuwei and does not rely on inspection” means one need not deliberately watch huohou (the grasp of qi-rhythm and timing in practice)—only let awareness merge with qi and fully return to emptiness and stillness. “Lower De acts, and its application never rests” means every step of practice attends to huohou, with constant adjustment and awareness. Guanyin Bodhisattva in Journey to the West symbolizes the spirit of clear awareness that saves beings at every turn; here she illustrates that in practice one must continually feel the huohou, neither letting fire blaze too high nor water turn too cold, always seeking gentle warmth and steadily guarding the true intent. “One stroke opens heaven; firmness joins yin and yang; the huohou is mildly warm”—that is this state.

The Wuzhenpian says: “Fire born in wood hides its flame; unless you probe deeply, do not force an attack.” If one treats shishen (ordinary discriminating mind) as yuanshen (originally clear, luminous spirit), one may fall into solitary yang or solitary yin and harm the body—so one must be cautious. To use visible practice to seek real attainment, the key is to work at the “center” character in the great and small voids: neither clinging inward nor outward, letting shishen settle and only lightly using awareness, holding the center and embracing unity (shouzhong baoyi). “Center” is the gate where shen and qi enter and leave; “unity” is the root of jing and qi. When heart and breath mutually guard each other, the “lead cauldron” stays warm and true yang is gradually retained.

If one uses consciousness and perception too much in cultivation, practice will fall into ordinary thinking and intellectual knowledge; these belong to post-heaven consciousness, not pre-heaven innate nature, and cannot truly take effect. Therefore, at the beginning one must rely on consciousness to seek “true intent” (Zhenyi), then use consciousness to guide qi to harmonize and unite. The “knowing” spoken of here originally belongs to the lower-level Shen of consciousness (post-heaven thinking consciousness).

Hence the scripture calls this “cultivating the real by means of the provisional”: using such ordinary perception to cultivate, while what is sought is the true innate nature. Continuing practice in this way, one can generate “being” from “non-being”: the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) holds the three primordials within, and true intent thereby appears. True intent is the pivot that governs the whole body; what is called the “Yellow Matron” and “Wuji and Jiji, the two soils” (in Daoist neidan, symbols for the true intent that harmonizes yin and yang and completes the elixir method) all refer to it. With true intent present, after long cultivation the Shen of consciousness gradually recedes, and the Yuan Shen (the pre-heaven spirit one originally possesses) gradually manifests.

True intent can only appear in a state of chaos; hence it is also called “chaotic primordial spirit.” When yin and yang unite, one enters chaos: spirit is formless and belongs to yang; the breath of mouth and nose is formed and belongs to yin—when the two combine, a chaotic state arises. The breath of mouth and nose and the Shen of consciousness both belong to post-heaven things; when post-heaven returns to chaos, there is no longer a split between pre-heaven and post-heaven, and one enters the state of “ultimate non-being.”

From “non-being” arises “being,” and pre-heaven qi begins to manifest. One must return to utmost emptiness and utmost non-being before one can sense Pre-heaven Primordial Qi (the subtle qi originally present before birth) coming from the void. Emptiness and non-being symbolize the Kun hexagram (in the Yijing, the hexagram of pure yin), which is purely yin; only with pure yin can one sense pure yang and draw in pre-heaven qi. Harmonizing impure post-heaven yin and yang into chaos, returning them to the void’s pure yin, then generating pure yang from pure yin—this is what is called “post-heaven returning to pre-heaven.”

The Qi (abbreviation for the Zhouyi Cantong Qi, Scripture of the Golden Elixir on the Zhouyi) also says: “When the upper closes, it is called ‘you’ (having); when the lower closes, it is called ‘wu’ (non-being).” Here “upper” and “lower” refer to the Kan and Li trigrams, not to “upper De” and “lower De.” “Upper closure” and “lower closure” mean that Qian and Kun transform into Li and Kan—a change that comes from “their function never ceasing.”

After Qian and Kun become Li and Kan, Li rises to the upper position and forms a body hollow in the middle. Mind and deliberation arise from this, hence it is called “you”; lower closure is yang qi sinking down as if it had vanished, hence it is called “wu” when the lower closes. The Li above is “non-being within having”; the Kan below is “having within non-being.” Only through practice of “upper closure” and “lower closure” can they return to their original state.

Raising the “having within non-being” below to the upper region is “using non-being to serve the upper”—that is, “taking Kan to fill Li.” Then the Yuanshen (original spirit, the innate spiritual aspect) can appear. This belongs to the method of cultivating the Dao through lower De: refining the self and laying the foundation (lianji zhuji). This method is called the “two-aperture method” or “two apertures, one cavity”: the Zhonghuang cavity (the pivotal aperture in the body’s center) contains metal qi (jinqi). The two apertures are also the Gate of Mystery and Feminine (Xuanpin zhi men)—that is, the “center.” This metal qi is of the same kind as the Kan qi that has sunk downward, so the two can mutually attract.

“Metal qi also mutually draws” means the metal qi above attracts the metal qi below, entirely through like-kind resonance—the two-aperture method is what is applied. Metal qi belongs to white; to know the white, one must first guard the black, hence “know the white, guard the black.” “Black” refers to Kun—the body of empty, pure Kun; “guarding black” is returning to emptiness. Following this path, spirit-light (shenming) will come of itself. Spirit-light is the “white” of Qian metal; only by holding the Kun body can one resonate with Qian metal—that is, let the true self (the authentic self) arrive and become master, and one then obtains spirit-light.

This passage may be read alongside the Cantong Qianyou (Elucidating the Depths of the Cantong).

Lecture Six: Know the white, guard the black—first return to chaos; invert Kan and Li, and cultivate nature and life together (xingming shuangxiu).

In the phrase “know the white and keep to the black, and spirit and clarity will come of themselves,” “white” refers to the gold essence (Jin jing)—that is, the single breath (yi qi) of Qian yang; “black” refers to the water foundation (shui ji)—that is, the twofold qi of Kun yin. According to this teaching, when a person receives a body in the womb, they inherit four constituents: Qian nature, Kun destiny, Li essence, and Kan blood. Qian nature is the single qi of Qian yang, belonging to the empty, still, wuwei true nature (zhenxing) at the root source; Kun destiny is the twofold qi of Kun yin, belonging to the post-heaven, purposive primordial feeling (yuanqing).

Because the parents conceived the child through desire, a “intermediate-state consciousness” (zhongyin—the aware spirit before rebirth) also arrives and merges with the primordial feeling. This teaching holds that within the intermediate-state consciousness there are appetites for food and sexual desire; within primordial feeling there are likewise tendencies toward temperament, appetite, and sexuality—roots received from the parents. Strictly speaking, however, this is not pure true nature but primordial feeling.

Journey to the West uses Zhu Bajie (Pigsy) to symbolize the “conscious spirit” (shishen)—awareness pulled by post-heaven desires. The novel says he was originally Marshal Tian Peng, in charge of the Heavenly River, but was banished to the human realm for molesting Chang’e; a trace of spiritual clarity wrongly entered a pig’s womb, and he was by nature lustful and enormously gluttonous. The “pig” here illustrates that primordial feeling originally arises from transformation of true nature, yet is mixed with post-heaven desires for food and sex, and therefore chases outward and loses the root. “Rebirth” is a metaphor using the intermediate-state consciousness; “wrongly entering a pig’s womb” describes sinking into temperament and carnality and obscuring the source.

In Journey to the West, when Tang Sanzang meets demons, trouble often follows because he listens to Zhu Bajie—showing how much harm the conscious spirit can do. Tang Sanzang first steels his mind to seek the Dao at Double Boundary Mountain and subdues the dragon horse at Eagle-Grief Stream, remaining diligent and single-minded; later at Gao Village he subdues Zhu Bajie, who stands for conscious feeling. Even after conscious feeling is subdued, demons still appear when his mind wavers—only toward the end of the story does the conscious spirit truly settle. This shows that refining nature (lian xing) is not easy. Next, the speaker will explain the meaning of the pre-heaven Five Phases (wuxing).

The diagrams above all express the principle of the pre-heaven Five Phases. “Zhenkong” (primordial emptiness) is Wuji (the Limitless); “yuanshi zu qi” (primordial ancestral Qi) is the first single breath of Qi within Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). East, west, south, and north are called the “Four Emblems.” Heaven sits in the north; the sun in the east; the moon in the west; the empty center is the substance of Taiji.

The Five Phase numbers in the Hetu (River Chart) are: east three and eight, west four and nine, south two and seven, north one and six, center five and ten. All these numbers belong to the one Qi within Taiji. East and south combine: three with two makes five, eight with seven makes fifteen; north and west combine: one with four makes five, six with nine makes fifteen; the central five also forms its own group. Thus you get the groups five, fifteen, five, fifteen, and five, which add to sixty; yet the Hetu numbers in fact total only fifty-five.

Xing (nature) has the virtue of unceasing generation, so it is assigned to the east and to Wood; Shen (spirit) has the virtue of subtle, luminous awareness, so it is assigned to the south and to Fire. Xing and Shen are one still and one active: stillness is the zhenkong (primordial emptiness) that Xing displays; activity is the subtle presence (miaoyou) that Shen displays. Together they make the number five and form one “store” (cang).

Qing (emotion/feeling) has the virtue of accord with principle, so it is assigned to the west and to Metal; Jing (essence) has the virtue of moistening and inner storage, so it is assigned to the north and to Water. Qing and Jing are likewise one active and one still: stillness is Jing’s inner concealment; activity is Qing’s outward expression. Together they also make five and form another store.

The center, Wu and Ji, belongs to Earth, number five, and is a store in itself. In the language of cultivation, this corresponds to “zhenyi” (true intent) and “zhenxi” (true breath): zhenyi means pure, settled intention; zhenxi means inwardly regulated breathing. They govern the stillness and activity of the Four Emblems, so they are represented by “yuan qi” (primordial Qi). For without yuan qi, Xing, Qing, Jing, and Shen cannot be stirred into motion and thus cannot manifest.

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong symbolizes the “five” formed from the northern “one” and the western “four”; Zhu Bajie (Pig) symbolizes the “five” formed from the eastern “three” and the southern “two”; Sha Wujing (Sandy) himself symbolizes a single “five.” These three “fives” together make one Tang Sanzang. The white dragon-horse, ever diligent and never ceasing, going back and forth along the Way, symbolizes the principle that in cultivation one must not leave the path even for a moment.

Here the pre-heaven Five Phases (in cultivation, the pre-heaven qi symbolized by the numerology of the five phases) turn into three “houses”; in substance they are all deployments of Yuan Shi Ancestral Qi (the primal pre-heaven vital energy of the source). Therefore only by gathering Ancestral Qi can “five” be restored to “three,” and then “three” to “one”; otherwise it cannot be done.

The so-called “three houses” means: the eastern “three” and the southern “two” unite in yin-yang and become one house; the northern “one” and the western “four” unite in yin-yang and become one house; and the central Wu and Ji (the stems of the Earth phase among the Five Phases) also unite in yin-yang and become one house. “House” is like one family living in harmony; whenever Daoist texts speak of “house,” they take this meaning—this point must not be overlooked.

Returning to the pre-heaven through post-heaven cultivation is precisely using the Five Phases to merge the three houses; that is, seeking from movement and stillness the substance that is neither moving nor still. Thus the three houses and the Five Phases can return to one—this is the pre-heaven. In the post-heaven there are the five: spirit, jing, hun, po, and yi.

Scriptures say: “There is pre-heaven nature, and there is post-heaven nature.” Post-heaven nature is in fact desire; it drives one outward in pursuit and belongs to temperament and the appetites of food and sex. Mencius says: “Food and sex are human nature” (see Mencius, “Gaozi I”). He also says: “Infants all know to love their parents; when grown they have wife and children and love wife and children; when they know to love beauty, they love young women.” The ancients held that children’s love for parents is innate nature; after growing up, one loves wife and children and also loves beauty.

The ancients believed that between children and parents there is a natural closeness; that father and son often resemble each other in temperament is because, at the moment of conception and reception of vital breath, a root-nature is already imparted.

At the very beginning of gestation, when the parents’ feelings harmonize and the qi of both sides coalesce, what is already mixed in includes the dietary desires, sexual desires, and temperamental dispositions that the parents have accumulated over a lifetime. For the parents these belong to the postnatal realm, but for the fetus they are already formed as prenatal endowment. Therefore dietary desire, sexual desire, and temperament are also called “nature” (xing), but the author holds that in substance they are qing (emotion/desire)—an emotional nature inherited from the parents, not the nature endowed by Heaven.

Furthermore, the author holds that the “intermediate shade” (zhongyin)—the state between death and rebirth—also carries emotional roots formed over many lifetimes. Such emotional roots likewise belong to the nature of appetite, sexuality, and temperament. When a young child does not resemble the parents in temperament, the author explains that the zhongyin emotional roots they carry are relatively stronger.

Thus Daoist texts distinguish two senses of “nature”: what Heaven’s mandate bestows is innate (xiantian) nature; what is received from the parents and from zhongyin is acquired (houtian) nature. When Mencius said “nature is good,” he meant the original nature of the innate source; when Xunzi advocated “nature is evil,” he meant the acquired nature of appetite, sexuality, and temperament. Gaozi held that human nature in itself is neither good nor evil, and that good and evil arise through habituation—much the same point as Mozi’s lament upon seeing silk turn black when dyed from white. Judging a person’s nature by their conduct is likewise reasoning on the postnatal level.

“After the body is broken” means the innate state of body and mind has already changed. Ancestral nature (the originally pure original nature) originally belongs to the hexagram Qian (Metal); its middle line sinks down into Kun; Kun thereby becomes Kan, so original nature falls into the place where desire resides. Original feeling (authentic emotional nature) originally belongs to Kun (Earth) and rises up into Qian; Qian thereby becomes Li, so emotional nature enters the place where nature resides.

Thus the positions of xing and qing are reversed and interwoven, becoming impure; yuanshen (innate authentic spirit) withdraws and hides in deep concealment, while the easily restless shishen (postnatal discriminating, thinking mind) instead holds the center and governs affairs. The middle line of Kan was originally the Metal of Qian, hence it is called “metal within water”; the middle line of Li was originally the Earth of Kun, hence it is called “earth within fire.”

Water is originally generated from Heavenly One, fire from Earthly Two. According to the logic of yin-yang and the Five Phases, water born from heaven descends to moisten, fire born from earth rises and flares upward. Yet the qi of the Five Phases also mutually contain one another. Zhou Dunyi’s phrase “the essences of two and five mutually hide in each other’s abode” means that within Kan water is hidden the innate true yang fire, and within Li fire is hidden the innate true yin water. This mutual hiding of water and fire stems from the interaction and transformation of Qian and Kun: Qian originally belongs to Metal and contains within it yang fire; Kun originally belongs to Earth and contains within it yin water. Tracing to the root, transformation begins from water and fire; pushed to the end, it returns to Metal and Earth.

In the Hetu (ancient diagram using numbers and directions to express yin-yang and Five Phase relations), one belongs to water and five to earth, two to fire and four to metal. Water and earth, fire and metal correspond in cyclic relation in the diagram; from this one can infer their patterns of change.

When the Qian hexagram transforms into the Li hexagram, Li belongs to Fire. Earth holds water within it; water flows underground, and water is present everywhere beneath the surface. Fire rises upward while water moistens downward; what rises joins with what is above, and what moistens downward joins with what is below. Water is generated from Heaven, fire from Earth—yet Earth also contains fire, as in volcanoes and fire wells. Fire wells are natural underground springs of fire; people once used them to boil salt, which is one piece of evidence.

Metal can generate water—a saying everyone knows. Yet water that flows underground also has its source in Heaven. “The waters of the Yellow River descend from Heaven,” like rain falling from the sky into gullies; every stream has its origin in Heaven, and the same holds for the waters of rivers, lakes, and seas. At the source of the Yellow River lies the snow on the peaks of Kunlun; when the snow melts it becomes water and enters the river—another example.

Among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), each contains the others; the principles of generation, overcoming, control, and transformation are extremely subtle. Earth overcomes Water, yet within Kun (Earth) there is also water. All things cycle endlessly, with waxing and waning, gain and loss. Kan and Li mutually contain each other, which also illustrates how water and fire transform into one another.

Begin with the Kan hexagram: when Qian and Kun interact, one line of Qian falls into Kun and forms Kan, symbolizing water flowing within the great earth. The middle line of Kan is called both “gold within water” and fire; it also represents the solar true fire (the primordial fire regarded as the original source in Daoist practice). Taken in one sense alone, it stands for fire; viewed as the middle line of Kan, it is again gold within water.

The Kun hexagram is yin in nature and tends downward; yet that line originally inclined toward the upper realm. Now it sits in the middle of the hexagram, so its nature still sometimes seeks to rise. Fire’s nature is to ascend, so this line is likened to true fire. This is explained from the hexagram image.

From the perspective of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and how they interact, the metal within the Kan trigram belongs to the Metal frame formed by si, you, and chou. Chou Earth generates Metal, while ji Fire can overcome Earth—so here you get a pattern of one act of generation paired with one act of overcoming.

Turn now to the Li trigram: the middle line of Kun rises to meet Qian, and Li is formed. The upper and lower lines of Li belong to Qian Metal; the middle line belongs to Kun Earth. Kun Earth is the same as yi Earth—heavy and turbid, unlike the light, ascending wu Earth. Li belongs to Fire; Fire is held within Earth, outer Yang and inner Yin, and stands for brightness and culture. Flame flares upward while the inside stays hollow; only with something to burn does it blaze, so the fire is strong at the edges and empty at the center. That is why Li symbolizes Fire and also the refined qi (jing qi) of the sun. The sun, too, is outer Yang and inner Yin; within it is the golden crow (jinwu). The crow is also called ji (cock), associated with you Metal and with Yin. That is the image of Metal hidden inside Fire.

Fire also holds the golden lotus—the saying “planting the lotus in the fire”: the lotus belongs to Wood, and Fire normally overcomes Wood, yet here Fire is said to generate Wood instead. Li also contains mercury (gong), called the “wood-fluid within the fire.” In Sichuan there is a legend of “fire-washed cloth,” woven from a grass that grows in fire—plants of the volcanic mountains. The author treats this as a trace in the world of the principle that “Fire generates Wood.” Wood born of such fire is not like ordinary vegetation; it is hard and strong, and for that reason it is used to stand for true mercury (zhen gong)—a symbolic substance in Neidan (internal alchemy).

Li is formed from a line of Kun, and Kun is Earth. Water moves beneath the ground; where there is Earth, there is Water—so Li conceals true Water. In the Five Phases scheme assigned to the trigrams, Li also includes the Wood frame of hai, mao, and wei: wei belongs to Kun Earth, mao is the Wood within Fire, and hai is true Water.

Both hai and zi belong to the phase of Water, yet zi is water on the ground and hai is water in heaven. Zhu Bajie corresponds to Wood within Fire, because Wood begins to grow in the hai position; hence there is covertly embedded the Wood combination formed by the three branches hai, mao, and wei (the Five Phases grouping in which Wood qi gathers together).

Turn next to wu earth and ji earth: the middle line of the Li trigram is yin and stands for ji earth; the middle line of the Kan trigram is yang and stands for wu earth. The two kinds of earth together are called gui (the classical graph that joins two “earth” signs). The Center belongs to Earth; earth has no fixed direction, yet it flourishes at the turning points between the four seasons, so the Cantong qi says that earth “threads through and links beginning and end”—meaning earth runs through and connects the start and finish of things.

When the Taiji moves, yang arises and is called yang earth; when it is still, yin arises and is called yin earth. Earth is the root from which the ten thousand things are generated; within it wu earth is clear and ji earth is turbid. Water and earth are the foundation of the ten thousand things’ ceaseless growth and change, which is why the Li trigram is paired with ji earth and the Kan trigram with wu earth. What follows here is naji—the system of assigning the heavenly stems to the eight trigrams.

Na Jia—the system of assigning the ten heavenly stems to the eight trigrams—grows out of the numerological idea of “Heaven One, Earth Two.” Jia stands for the primordial Yi Qi (the initial breath of the cosmos): yang numbers run from one to nine, yin numbers from two to ten. Thus the Qian trigram is paired with Jia and Ren (one and nine), and the Kun trigram with Yi and Gui (two and ten). Qian yuan (Qian’s fundamental function) supports the beginning of all things; Kun yuan (Kun’s fundamental function) fosters their growth.

All things arise from water, which is the starting point of the Five Phases. Water generates wood; wood belongs to the east and symbolizes ceaseless sprouting life. Change in the ten thousand things proceeds from Qian and Kun, while water runs through the whole process: Ren water marks the beginning, Gui water the end—hence Qian with Jia and Ren, Kun with Yi and Gui.

Gen shares the nature of Bing; both are yang. Gen represents shaoyang (lesser yang), and Bing belongs to yang fire, so Gen is paired with Bing. Dui belongs to metal, and metal harbors fire; Ding is yin fire, so Dui is paired with Ding. Kan is water and yang; Li is fire and yin. Water and fire are where the changes of the ten thousand things begin, while earth is the root of the Five Phases and flourishes through all four seasons—so Kan is paired with the yang earth Wu, and Li with the yin earth Ji.

The pairing of Zhen and Dui with Ding follows a similar logic. Zhen is yang wood and Geng is yang metal, so Zhen is paired with Geng. Yang wood is hard, yin wood soft—hard like sandalwood, soft like willow. Zhen and Geng share yang and hardness; Xun and Xin share yin and softness. Xin is “soft metal,” so Xun is paired with Xin. Geng metal is like silver, Xin metal like refined gold—one hard, one soft; like attracts like, hence Geng with Zhen and Xin with Xun.

The waxing and waning of the moon is also tied to Na Jia. In Neidan (internal alchemy), the moon’s increase and decrease illustrate huohou—the rhythm of yin and yang as they advance and retreat in practice. When the new moon first appears, it is called “chu geng” (emergence of Geng). The first-quarter moon corresponds to the Ding direction, with the crescent opening upward. Dui is metal, but its metal qi is not yet as full as Qian’s metal, so Dui is paired with Ding. The last-quarter moon corresponds to the Bing direction, with the crescent turning downward; Bing’s direction is the realm of shaoyang. Earth can generate metal and also bury it; by the last quarter, moonlight seems half buried, so it aligns with the directions of Bing and Gen. At the fifteenth day the moon is full—“wang” (full moon)—symbolizing the fullness of Qian’s metal qi.

The phrase “liu wu jiu ji” (“flowing Wu, settling Ji”) means that the two earths Wu and Ji unite as “true intention” (zheng yi). In cultivation this is heart and breath relying on each other, spirit and qi embracing—as if two earths formed one gui (an ancient jade token, here a image of yin-yang union). Let the Kan and Li within you (water and fire, the yin and yang qi of body and mind) harmonize at the xuanpin zhi men (the pivotal gate where yin and yang meet and essence-qi is generated), no longer clinging separately to being and non-being, so that heart and breath, spirit and qi, hold together. The Tianxian Zhenglun (Correct Discourse on Immortals) says: “When walking, go together; when stopping, stay together—by a subtle mutual knowing, let them travel and dwell as one.” The Huiming Jing (Scripture of Wisdom and Life) says: “Harmony and following mean one heart, one breath, one spirit, and one qi embracing and relying on each other.”

To cultivate this kind of practice, one must first understand post-heaven nature and emotion. What a person receives from Heaven is called “ancestral nature” (innate original nature); what one receives from parents is called qing (emotion)—that is, post-heaven innate qi.

When Qian and Kun unite, the yang line of the Qian hexagram enters Kun, forming the Kan hexagram. This symbolizes original nature turning into emotion: the primordial innate qi (yuan shi zhen qi, the source’s pre-heaven vital energy) sinks into the Gate of Life (mingmen), becoming the true fire of the Gate of Life, and innate nature is thus transformed into qing. When the yin line of the Kun hexagram enters Qian, forming the Li hexagram, it symbolizes qing turning back into nature: the qing mixed with temperament and the desires of food and sex is taken into the Qian hexagram and becomes post-heaven nature. Because temperament and desire are mixed in, the “conscious spirit” (shishen, the post-heaven spirit of discrimination and thought) takes charge—this is how post-heaven qing becomes post-heaven nature.

When innate nature enters Kun and forms Kan, it sinks into the Gate of Life; at rest it is called xing (nature), in movement it is called the original spirit (yuanshen), also called the true fire of the Gate of Life—still that single yang of Qian. What is meant by “taking from Kan to fill Li” is drawing out the original spirit trapped in Kan and returning it to the Li position so it regains its original state. Before it is drawn out and returned, the original spirit stays in Kan, hidden and inactive—just like “the hidden dragon does not act”: yang qi sinks and hides, the dragon lies in the deep abyss. At the same time, temperament and the qing of food and sex veil it from outside; post-heaven innate qi already contains this temperament and desire.

After the Kun line enters Qian and qing has turned into nature, if one is wholly ruled by temperament and desire, outwardly one may show the image of Qian but in fact it does not function—the middle line is what really acts. The middle line obscures the yang within Qian nature, so only yin remains and no yang. This is the state in which the conscious spirit runs wild and post-heaven nature loses its mastery.

Kan holds the original spirit, hence it is said “there is within the without”; Li holds original qing, hence “there is without within the there.” The Li and Kan spoken of here also correspond to the visible physical body. When the conscious spirit holds sway, the original spirit hides on its own; nature sinks and emotional thoughts surge. The cultivator must harmonize xing and qing so they meet and blend, like sun and moon sharing their light.

Li symbolizes the sun; within it is the golden crow—the golden rooster. Metal corresponds to you (the Rooster hour), representing the qi of killing and restraint: yang outside, yin within. Kan symbolizes the moon; within it is the jade rabbit. The rabbit corresponds to mao (the Rabbit hour), representing the qi of growth and generation: yin outside, yang within.