《一贯天机直讲》Vol. 5

During cultivation, if one fixates on inner visions, one easily stirs emotions and thoughts—sometimes delight, sometimes fear. When the time of muyu (bathing—the stage in neidan practice of regulating breath and resting quietly so that the “fire” of the work stays balanced) arrives, one must still gather the mind and guard stillness in silence, without stray thoughts. One should let the zhongyang zhenyi (central true intent—the intent that harmonizes yin and yang and governs body and mind) be the master: withdraw the acquired shishen (postnatal discriminating spirit), employ the innate yuanshen (prenatal original spirit), follow nature, and reach a state of not forcing cognition and not acting rashly, in accord with natural law.

The Great Learning says: “Only when the heart is settled can one think; only after thinking can one gain—how strict the requirement is!” The Mirror for Entering the Medicine says: “Water fears drying up; fire fears cold; if the timing of the fire is slightly off, the elixir cannot be refined.” Through the thirty thousand ke of practice, one must be vigilant at every moment, lest error arise.

When man and woman unite, the bridal chamber fills with mingling of cloud and rain; in a year one child is conceived, each able to ride the crane.

Peng’s commentary explains: “Husband and wife” means the true yin and true yang within the body. True yin and true yang, with zhen tu (true earth—the force that mediates and harmonizes yin and yang) as the go-between, join as husband and wife; they meet in the bridal chamber, yin and yang unite, like clouds rising and rain falling. Within a year, after ten months of “gestation” and two months of muyu, the fetus’s qi is full, and an infant is born, crossing out on a crane from the niwan gong (mud pill palace—the upper dantian in the head). In nine years nine are born—hence “each and every one”; this does not mean nine real infants, but that the cultivator may manifest countless forms. The “infant” is called hai (child) because the characters hai and zi combine in the word hai—this is the crucial entry point for forming the embryo in practice.

Min Shi said: The husband stands for Qian (symbolizing Heaven and Yang); the wife stands for Kun (symbolizing Earth and Yin); “the bridal chamber” (dongfang) is a metaphor for the “extraordinary aperture” (feifan qiao)—the special pass in cultivation. This passage states the gist of section seven: with utmost sincerity, employ and gather body, mind, and intent, regulate and blend them so they transform and merge, and thus participate in Heaven and Earth.

It is like a man and woman brought together by a matchmaker in marriage; after union they beget a child. Here, however, what is born from the “extraordinary aperture” is the “extraordinary child”; the key is to reverse the ordinary course and become an immortal. Worldly couples follow the ordinary way and beget human offspring—that is another matter entirely.

Another metaphor: true earth (zhen tu) stands for intent (yinian), like the matchmaker; true lead (zhen qian) stands for the body, like the husband; true mercury (zhen gong) stands for the heart, like the wife. The matchmaker unites husband and wife into a household, just as one uses intent to fuse and concentrate body and heart to accomplish the supreme Dao. Is this interpretation sound? I venture to ask the master.

The commentary says: When men and women unite in the world, Yin and Yang qi intercourse and, following the ordinary way, produce people—that is the path of ordinary folk; the immortal path has something similar. One should pair the Crimson Maid of the Li Palace (symbolizing the heart or the Yin side) with the Golden Duke of the Kan Mansion (symbolizing the body or the Yang side), send them into the bridal chamber—that is, the central yellow chamber (zhonghuang zhi shi), the inner pass at the center in cultivation—so they draw near to each other. Again I ask the master whether this reading is correct.

When men and women unite in the world, their essences intermingle and children are born in accord with natural law—this is the path of ordinary people. Cultivation in the immortal way is described in similar terms. The practitioner pairs the “Radiant Maiden” of the Li Palace (symbolizing spirit or the yin pole) with the “Golden Lord” of the Kan Palace (symbolizing essence or the yang pole), and brings them into the Central Yellow Chamber (the middle of the body, regarded as the place of refinement), so that the two meet and unite like yin and yang merging. From this, the spirit medicine is matched and congeals into the sacred embryo; after ten months of nurturing warmth, the spirit-intent within the Qi is complete, and one can “give birth” to the sacred child and divine heir. Later, roaming freely, riding a crane to ascend, passing through earth and heaven—all are said to be the work of this sacred child and divine heir.

The Wuzhen Pian says: “The Golden Lord was originally the son of the eastern house; he was nourished in the western neighbor’s dwelling as a borrowed body. Recognize him, call him home to be nurtured, and pair him with the Radiant Maiden to bind affection.” It also says: “The Radiant Maiden travels each to her own direction—the forward leg must be short and the rear long. Returning, she enters the Yellow Matron’s chamber and is wedded to the Golden Lord as his old partner.” This too is the same meaning. Patriarch Zhang used ordinary male-female procreation in forward flow as a metaphor for reversed cultivation, and used the common way of bearing children to explain the immortal way, so that cultivators could grasp it easily—truly painstaking instruction. Practitioners should reflect deeply and turn it over again and again.

The Sibai Zi comprises twenty sections; the whole runs on one thread, with “Kan-Li essence” at the core. Kan-Li essence arises within the Mysterious Orifice (the key aperture spoken of in practice)—that is, the lead-and-mercury medicinals (figures in internal alchemy for yin-yang vital breath). It also comes from emptiness and stillness: body and mind must be quiet and without rash movement before the Mysterious Orifice appears. From start to finish, the crux lies in these two sentences; readers must not overlook them.

Lecture Ten

From emptiness yang is born; when stillness reaches its extreme, movement returns.

Without deliberate gathering and refining, gathering and refining happen naturally—the key is knowing when to stop.

The liver stores the hun (soul); the hun is the intermediate consciousness between life and death. It enters the spirit chamber of the middle palace and becomes the master. At night the hun is stored in the liver; though the eyes are closed, consciousness still moves, so what one thought of by day often appears in dreams at night. When the hun is still it is called hun; when it moves it is called shen (spirit). The liver belongs to wood and symbolizes the ceaselessly generating qi of the east; wood’s nature is to move, and only through movement can it grow and transform. When dreaming at night, timid people easily dream frightening scenes; when liver-wood qi surges upward, dreams tend to be chaotic and sleep restless at night. All of this comes from unsettled shen and hun.

To settle shen and hun, it is best not to keep them stored in the liver but to store them in the kidneys. The kidneys belong to water and correspond to the Kan trigram in the Bagua; Kan inherently holds the yuan shen (original spirit); let the shi shen (acquired, discriminating consciousness) return into it and dwell in the depths—hence “holding the heart and blocking the abyss”: guarding the inner mind so intention stays deep and steady. At night, storing shen in the kidneys can also be described as storing it in the ears. Ear and kidney interpenetrate: the kidney is the inner palace of the ear, the ear the outer palace of the kidney.

Sun Wukong shrinks the golden cudgel to a needle and hides it in his ear—here a figure for yuan shen and yuan qi (primordial qi) gathering inward and being stored in kidney and ear. If one can regulate the breath so heart and breathing depend on each other, shen can be gathered and stored in the ear: inwardly this is “entering the ear”; outwardly it is called true earth (the neutral, sustaining principle in practice). What ancients meant by “the ear hears a stringless zither,” “the ear hears the grand music of heaven,” as well as “Guanyin of subtle sound” and “the sea-tide sound of Brahma,” all refer to subtle sounds heard in the ear after heart and breath are harmonized. At the start of practice, this point matters most.

Sun Wukong symbolizes yuan shen; the golden cudgel symbolizes yuan qi. Shen and qi unite and are stored in the ear. The text goes on to say that ear and eye can be distinguished by stillness and movement.

The eyes and ears can respectively correspond to “movement” and “stillness”: the eyes belong to movement, the ears to stillness. Physicians call the area behind the ears the mingmen (Gate of Life), a region tied to vital functions, because the ears connect with the mingmen; they call the area before the eyes the “wind gate,” the portal through which the expansive upright qi (vital energy) enters and leaves. In physiognomy there is a saying that one whose qi enters and leaves through the ears is an immortal.

The ear gate is the “wind gate”; behind the head is the “wind palace” (fengfu—the place where wind gathers in classical medicine and the Daoist path). What cultivators call “wind arising behind the head” is the breath reaching the wind palace at the back of the head. The scripture uses a story from Journey to the West to explain this principle of practice: Guanyin gives Sun Wukong three “life-saving hairs” and places them at the back of his head; “call to Heaven and Heaven responds, call to Earth and Earth is numinous” means that on exhalation one connects with the heaven root and on inhalation with the earth root.

Willow belongs to yielding wood and corresponds to Xun wood in the Eight Trigrams (Bagua); “three” corresponds to the Qian hexagram. The three hairs symbolize primordial qi (yuanqi); placed at the back of the head they symbolize “filling Li from Kan” (qu kan tian li)—using the image of the Kan trigram to replenish the Li trigram—so that Li turns into Qian. The scripture also says this episode comes after subduing the dragon-horse; the dragon-horse symbolizes “true breath” (zhenxi) in practice and “true intent” (zhenyi)—single-minded, authentic intention. Only when Tang Sanzang obtains the dragon-horse can he travel to the Western Heaven; “vigorous action all day long” (zhong ri qian qian) symbolizes the true breath opening and closing without cease. The three life-saving hairs stand for the Qian hexagram and also for the true breath; the dragon-horse likewise symbolizes the true breath.

When one first begins to cultivate, one should start from uttering the sound “he” and letting that sound enter the ears. Guanyin attained the Dao not by contemplating the mind within but by contemplating and listening to sound. The scripture holds that not Guanyin alone—many buddhas also cultivate by this path. Thus Manjushri said: “It is not only Guanyin who realized the Dao by this means; I too attained by this same path.”

Why does Guanyin appear in female form? The Huangting Jing says: “The ears are the seductive woman.”

Why does Guanyin so often appear in female form? The Huangting Jing says that the ears are the “seductive woman” (yāo nǚ). Here “seductive woman” means that the ear, as an organ, carries a yin, soft, and quiet symbolism. The ear governs stillness; the Yijing takes the Li trigram to stand for the middle daughter and the Kan trigram for the middle son, and the ear also belongs to Kan. Kan belongs to water, governs stillness, and also carries feminine symbolism—hence the ear is likened to a delicate woman, and Guanyin appears in female form. The Qingjing Jing says: “Heaven moves and earth is still; the male moves and the female is still.” The male symbolizes heaven and the female earth; here again the quiet quality of the female is emphasized. When spirit and soul (shen and hun) return to the ears, the heart naturally grows quiet.

Something else related should be noted: the hun (soul) is stored in the liver, and the liver connects with the gallbladder; the gallbladder stores shi—discernment and judgment. Those with shi tend to have bold gallbladder qi; those without it tend to be timid. Liver and gallbladder both belong to wood; hun dwells in the liver and links with the shi in the gallbladder—this shi is called shi shen (the spirit of discrimination and judgment). Liver and gallbladder are joined, so they count together as one of the “five viscera.” The gallbladder is treated both as a viscus and as a bowel. In terms of position within the body, the gallbladder sits in the “Xu–Wei” region. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) speaks of the “Xu–Wei acupoint” and also says “advancing the fire work, Ox and Dipper in peril.” The acupoint meant here lies inward at the area below the gallbladder and outward corresponds to the yin heel vessel (yīn qiāo)—in Neidan, the lower-body yin-channel complex. Both the yin heel vessel and the gallbladder are placed in the Xu–Wei position; liver and gallbladder follow each other. The author next uses a simple diagram to show this relationship.

The Cantong Qi says: “Turn sight and hearing back and gather them in; then opening and closing can respond to each other.” Some cultivators today speak of “He Yi” (Union) societies that use the two characters hetong (“correspondence” or “contract”); the “correspondence” (hetong) in later teaching traditions carries this same sense.

The qu in “next, extend qu” (qici zhi qu) in the Zhongyong chapter of the Liji connects with the qu in “turn and bend sight and hearing” (xuanqu yi shiting). When vision and hearing are gathered back into one, opening and closing naturally correspond; this correspondence comes from turning sight and hearing inward—that is, withdrawing the gaze and reining in the ears so that spirit and mind return to the Gate of the Mysterious Female (xuanpin zhi men, the locus in body and mind regarded as the pivot of practice). What is called “turning” (xuan) and “bending” (qu) is precisely gathering sight and hearing here and governing them with spirit-intent (shenyi); opening and closing also arise from this.

“Depart from outward qi and take in ying and wei” (li qi na rongwei) speaks of reining in the gaze: no longer looking outward at things, but bringing attention back to ying and wei (the nourishing qi and defensive qi that circulate within the body). Then the ear, symbolized by the Kan trigram, no longer chases sounds outward. Here qu is explained as the image of a wheel turning; “turn and bend sight and hearing” is also the meaning of guanyin (contemplating and hearing inwardly, returning attention within). Only thus can one obtain the true breath (zhenxi, the natural, deep breath of practice) and make the opening and closing of breathing correspond.

The Daozang contains the Dongxuan Lingbao Dingguan Jing (Scripture on Fixed Contemplation of the Numinous Treasure of the Mysterious Cavern). “Lingbao” means: in Heaven it is ling (numinous), on Earth it is bao (treasure); in human beings it is called shen (spirit)—spirit is Heaven’s numinosity and Earth’s treasure. “Dingguan” (fixed contemplation) means: only when spirit and mind are first settled can one contemplate— that is, contemplate the subtle (guan miao) and contemplate the aperture (guan qiao).

The scripture opens: “If you wish to cultivate the Dao, you must first leave worldly affairs behind.” “Leave affairs” (she shi) means cutting off various outer entanglements—that is, the seven emotions and six desires. As for loyalty, filial piety, integrity, and righteousness, these are the sincere heart naturally showing outward, rooted in inborn nature; they are not the “outer affairs” meant here.

“When outer affairs are all cut off, nothing opposes the heart. Then sit in stillness and inwardly contemplate heart and qi.” This means: sever outer distractions so the heart no longer meets resistance; then sit in stillness and look inward at heart and qi. “Sit in stillness” (anzuo) here is not merely sitting with the body cross-legged; it means the original spirit (yuanshen) does not leave its root aperture, afflictions subside, and the original heart does not give rise to stray thoughts. The original heart is the heart of Heaven; only when the heart returns to the heart of Heaven is it truly “sitting in stillness.”

When the primordial spirit (yuanshen)—the innate clear and luminous heart-mind—does not scatter outward but remains within the body’s inner gates, this is called “sitting” (zuo). Gathering in and clarifying afflictions is called “secure sitting” (anzuo). In other words, only when the original mind does not rise in stray thoughts can it be called secure sitting. The original mind is the celestial heart and the mind of the Dao (daoxin); when the primordial spirit stays unmoved, that is secure sitting.

The character for “sit” (zuo) was explained by ancients as two people beside earth, or two mouths flanking earth—both images symbolize yin and yang. Yin and yang arise from true earth (zhen tu); harmonizing yin and yang through true earth is “sitting.” Only when the original mind does not stir and afflictions are cleared can one observe in stillness; the spirit-mind must be settled.

What is called “observation” (guan) is to still the floating deluded mind without extinguishing the mind of illuminating awareness. The floating deluded mind is the conscious spirit (shishen)—the mind of discrimination and thought; the mind of illuminating awareness is wisdom light (huiguang); the primordial spirit is true emptiness (zhenkong). When wisdom light shines continuously, that is not raising deluded thoughts—this is using the sword of wisdom to cut down inner demons. So-called “demons” are wrong thoughts and wild imaginings. Yet one must concentrate the spirit in a realm of empty clarity without fixing the mind on any particular state; clinging to a state is falling into “attachment to appearances” (zhuoxiang).

The Diamond Sutra says: “One should subdue the mind in this way.” It also says: “One should give rise to this mind without abiding anywhere.” Non-abiding of the mind is “non-residence” (wusuo zhu)—that is the mind of the Dao. The Diamond Sutra and the Scripture on Still Observation (Dingguan Jing) mean the same thing: both aim to remove the “four marks” (si xiang)—attachment to notions of self, person, sentient being, and lifespan. When the four marks are gone, that is non-residence; the mind of non-residence is the mind of the Dao and true intent (zhenyi)—genuine, unfabricated intention. The latter part of the Dingguan Jing also expounds this; it may be read for reference.

The mind should take freedom from disturbance as its true dwelling; when things arise and one responds, that is merely responding to circumstances as they come. Thus the mind must both stay constantly still and be able to respond. Stillness is “silent and unmoving”; response is “stirred by contact, then penetrating.” Only after cultivating the work of still silence can one respond well to the outer world.

Buddhists often say: “The eyes observe the nose, the nose observes the heart.”

Buddhists often say: “Let the eyes look at the nose, let the nose in turn turn inward toward the heart; let mind and intent meet, and let intent meet mind again.” “Observing the nose” here means guarding the nasal opening to settle the mind. In the Shurangama Sutra (Lengyan jing), the Buddha tells the Venerable Ananda: “There is whiteness at the tip of the nose—observe it.” “Whiteness at the tip of the nose” means directly recognizing that appearance; “white” refers to the white light in the phrase “the empty room gives birth to white” (xushi sheng bai). Only when stillness is pushed to the utmost does one see white qi at the tip of the nose. Once one sees that white qi, one fixes attention on it; tradition holds that if one keeps this up for twenty-one days, one may attain the Way (dao). If there is no white qi at the nose tip, one first works to see the white qi. “The eyes observe the nose” is just what “observe it” means in that passage.

In “the nose guan the heart,” guan should be read in the falling tone, where it means “empty” or “void.” “Nose guan” points to the emptiness beneath the nose—that is, the heart within the emptiness below the nose. “Mind meets intent” means the mind joining true intent; true intent is the heart of Heaven (tianxin).

Practice of “returning to emptiness” (huan xu)—a method of cultivation that settles into void stillness—can begin with lowering the eyelids, reining in hearing, sealing the tongue, and evening out the breath. This is what the Cantong qi (Seal of the Unity of the Three) calls “tending and nourishing Yong’e.” “Tending” here is really the gathering of shen (spirit) until it takes shape: from a single point, day by day it accumulates and gradually grows, until at last one can concentrate spirit into a bodily form.

The heart is likened to “Spirit Mountain” (Lingshan) or “Spirit Platform” (Lingtai); below the Spirit Platform lies the “Spirit Pool” (Lingzhao). The Spirit Platform is the “Palace of Crimson” (jianggong) and “Yinggu” (yinggu, the valley of response); the Spirit Pool is the “Life Gate” (mingmen) between the two kidneys. When the scripture speaks of the Spirit Platform and Spirit Pool rejoicing together with the people, “people” (min) borrows the sense of “being close to the people” (zai qin min) from the Great Learning (Daxue). The “Spirit Platform” chapter in the Book of Poetry (Shijing, Day section) likewise carries allegorical meaning for cultivating the true (xiuzhen).

The lines “Ding zhi fang zhong, built as the palace of Chu” can also illustrate guarding the aperture: “Palace of Chu” indicates the south, the direction of the Li trigram, where there is emptiness within. “Measure it by the sun, built as the chamber of Chu” appears in “Ding zhi fang zhong” in the Yong section of the Poetry; from the word “sun” (ri) in that line, the underlying idea stands out even more clearly. The Five Classics contain many passages that use allegory to carry the meaning of cultivation, though later readers have often failed to notice.

The work of “returning to emptiness” (huanxu) is like tending the “altar of the spirit” (lingtai)—the place where the mind is clear and bright—and then building the “spirit pool” (lingzhao)—where the mind is settled and nourished. In other words, it means using Kan water to replenish Li fire. Earlier the text speaks of the “nine returns” (jiuhuan); later it speaks of the “seven reversals” (qifan). The nine returns at the stage of returning to emptiness, however, differ slightly from the true “great return” (dahuan). The great return concerns the union of Qian and Kun; the nine returns concern the merging of metal and wood. Once Yang qi is ample in the body, water and fire within naturally meet—this is the seven reversals.

Water, fire, metal, and wood all depend on earth (tu), so cultivation must start from earth: one must first obtain the “true intent” (zhenyi). Earth is like a dike that holds water in check and also restrains fire: without earth, water floods and fire blazes wildly; only by borrowing earth to harmonize them can water and fire meet. Metal is generated from earth; wood is generated from water and grows within earth. Metal and wood cannot merge on their own—they need earth to guide them before they can intersect. Therefore one must unite the two kinds of earth into a “gui” (an ancient jade tablet, here a metaphor for the union of inner and outer earth). Only then can water and fire meet within, and metal and wood join without; this is inner nine returns and outer seven reversals.

Fire corresponds to shen (spirit); water corresponds to qi. Thus the meeting of water and fire is also the union of spirit and qi. There must be earth to constrain them so that inner spirit and qi can stabilize. The formation of metal and wood belongs to the outer aspect: metal is the Yang qi that appears in empty space, born from the true emptiness of earth—it is the pre-heaven qi (xiantian zhi qi) returned from the post-heaven; wood is the original spirit (yuanshen) in one’s nature, which reappears after stillness reaches its extreme. Outer metal and wood are completed by borrowing outer earth; inner water and fire by borrowing inner earth. Outer metal and wood merging and inner water and fire meeting both rely on inner and outer earth—that is, inner and outer “emptiness.”

Forgetting the body is Kun earth, also called the outer mysterious female (wai xuanpin)—the outer gate of practice; forgetting thoughts until not a single thought arises is the “pure land” (jingtu), also called the inner mysterious female (nei xuanpin)—the inner gate. The ancients said, “Where a thought stirs, that is the mysterious female”; here the emphasis is on thoughts not arising—pure and unstained—as the inner mysterious female. Its symbol is like an empty circle, the inner mysterious pass (nei xuanguan); forgetting the body and reaching pure Kun is likewise symbolized as an empty circle, the outer mysterious pass (wai xuanguan). When both inner and outer mysterious passes are established, the work of seven reversals and nine returns has its foundation.

If for the time being one cannot forget both body and mind and cultivate inner and outer together, one may begin with outer “pure Kun” and gradually reach inner purity. When the outer body reaches pure Kun, the sign is Yang returning within emptiness: at first a faint trace of Yang appears in the body and the limbs tingle; gradually this spreads through the whole body; when Yang qi is full, the outer Yang rises. When the inner mind is pure, the original spirit can return; when Yang qi stirs, one can perceive, gather, seal, and refine it—all following the natural firing process (huohou) without forced striving.

The text compares the “pure land” to Sha Wujing in Journey to the West: first make the body pure Kun and obtain one earth—Wu earth (wutu); then make the inner mind pure and obtain the other earth—Ji earth (jitu). The two earths united form the gui, like Sha Wujing and his precious staff. The text also uses the order in which Tang Sanzang and his disciples obtain Wukong, then Wuneng, and finally Wujing to illustrate this sequence of cultivation.

In the practice of returning to emptiness (huan xu), there is the stage called the “nine returns” (jiu huan). When yang qi reaches the body and you first sense the slightest stirring, that is the initial appearance of opportunity. The phrase yu gui in the scripture seems corrupt or incomplete in the original; later the text compares this to Sha Wujing and his staff in Journey to the West to show the sequence: first obtain Wukong, then Wuneng, and finally Wujing.

To truly reach the “nine returns,” you must wait until true yang qi is felt in the body and yang is fully sufficient. Master Lü said: “For the seven returns to refine the elixir, one must first refine oneself and await the right moment.” Here “the moment” means the time in practice when yang qi is aroused—called the “living zi” and “living wu.” “Seven returns to refine the elixir” is the same idea as “seven returns and nine restores”; “refining oneself” (lian ji) means cultivating until body and mind return to empty stillness. Refining oneself is refining “post-heaven earth” (ji tu), by which one obtains pre-heaven “earth” (wu tu)—that is, drawing true yang from emptiness. Once yang appears it shifts in an instant, so there must be a method to hold it. Since returning to emptiness draws yang in, one must also know how to gather that yang. This is the pre-heaven great Way: one must first enter the undivided chaos state before it can be obtained.

“Pre-heaven” refers to the realm before heaven and earth and the ten thousand things have taken form; the practitioner returns from chaos back toward the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji). At the final stage of returning to emptiness—shattering empty space and returning to void—one must trace back before chaos, to the time before heaven and earth were opened. What Laozi called “prior to the Lord on High” (xiang di zhi xian) means “pre-heaven of pre-heaven”: the first returning to emptiness is from the two modes (yin-yang) back to Taiji; the last returning to emptiness is from Taiji back to the Limitless (Wuji). This is what is meant by the “pre-heaven great Way.”

In pre-heaven, all returns to “one.” Spirit and qi unite as one—that is, yin and yang unite in an undivided chaos. Once “one divides into two,” one passes from pre-heaven into post-heaven. The key in pre-heaven practice is “gathering the three and returning to one” (hui san gui yi). The initial “meeting of the three families” means spirit, qi, and the Gate of the Mysterious Female (xuan pin zhi men)—the pivotal place where spirit and qi meet in nourishment—join together: the spirit in the heart and the qi in the body converge at the central palace’s Mysterious-Female gate so the three become one, and the state of chaos is formed.

Pre-heaven practice always turns on gathering the three into one, uniting spirit and qi, and joining the symbolic forces of qian-kun and kan-li (yang and yin in the body). Then creation occurs—that is, the moment when true earth and true intent (the force in practice that gathers and focuses spirit and qi) arise. Only then can one attract and hold the incoming pre-heaven primordial Qi (xian tian yi qi), like “the single stroke that opens heaven,” marking the beginning of the ten thousand things.

How do true intent and true earth form? The crux is not to raise stray thoughts and not to let the mind scatter. Only then can true intent and true earth be obtained. This is what the Diamond Sutra means by “respond without abiding anywhere, yet arouse the mind”: the mind does not cling to anything, yet a clear, focused mind arises.

Beginners find it hard to reach this level at once; they should start with sincere, single-minded devotion. Sincerity itself is not easy either, so one can first work from the step called “extending to utmost sincerity” (zhiqu). When you begin, the key is to fix attention on one point; then the mind naturally stops scattering. “Mind not scattering” here means being fully present in whatever you are doing outwardly—not forcing the inner mind to produce no thought at all.

“Single-mindedness” means: when looking, look only at what you see; when listening, listen only to what you hear; when regulating breath, stay with the breath—keeping the mind in one place without splitting. Regulating breath is observing the breath (guan xi), which includes the meaning of “stopping and contemplating” (zhiguan): stopping means settling the mind; contemplating means noticing how the breath changes. The text also mentions “clepsydra drops” (kelou) and “Military Fire” (wuhuo). Kelou originally refers to a water clock dripping to measure time; here it means drop by drop—not counting breaths with numbers in the mind, but listening to the breath with the ear, as if noting each drip of the clepsydra. That is still a method of breath observation, only using the clepsydra as a figure of speech.

The Wu Zhen Pian (Understanding Reality) says: “Seeing with the eyes is not as good as hearing with the ears; speaking with the mouth is not as good as speaking with the nose!” The point is to bring the mind used by eyes, ears, mouth, and nose into one accord, so that true single-mindedness appears. “Circling through sight and hearing” means that in using sight and hearing, the beginning and end employ Military Fire (a more forceful way of practice), while the middle uses Civil Fire (a gentler way): at the start, Military Fire means listening to the breath with the ear, with a thread of fine attention. What is called “single-mindedness” and what is called “extending to utmost sincerity” are speaking of the same thing.

This is not fixing the mind on some aperture or point, not doing something with the mouth, and not driving things by force of will—it is letting spirit and breath follow the ear as it listens to the breath. Then heart and breath naturally cling together, spirit and breath naturally unite, and the mind is not easily scattered. An old saying runs, “To know without holding is the real work”—it speaks of “embracing the One” (baoyi), not of deliberately “guarding the One” (shouyi). “Embrace” here means turning the attention of both ears back until they meet. If you use intention to clamp down on a spot, you fall into visualization (cunxiang); once you visualize on purpose, thoughts arise and emptiness and stillness are hard to find. The phrase “sound entering the ear” is extremely subtle and worth pondering at length.

The Cantong Qi says: “As hearing and breathing turn and circulate together, opening and closing can stay in harmony.” Here “harmonious alignment” means evening and coordinating—each opening and closing kept steady. “The pivot and linchpin for oneself” means this state is like a door hinge and a chariot linchpin: the linchpin fixes the wheel so it turns without coming off. Only by using the ear to listen to one’s own breathing can opening and closing be even and breath not scatter—like a wheel held by its linchpin.

When the five senses are all gathered into the breath, the discriminating mind (shishen—the consciousness that reaches outward and distinguishes things) no longer runs outward. Whether in movement or stillness, one can maintain this state, and breath will not fail. Only at this stage can one speak of “leaving breath to enter Rongwei”: Rongwei is the nutrient and defensive qi—the circulation of qi and blood. When breath is concentrated, hearing can also be withdrawn and no longer chases external sounds. “Dui merges without talk; rare words accord with primordial chaos” means not relying on speech and conversation, letting spirit and mind accord with an undivided primordial state, so spirit does not scatter.

“In sleep, spirit embraces” means that in quiet, spirit and breath unite, with spirit governing the movement of qi. “Awakening waits for survival and extinction” means that when the moment comes, spirit naturally has insight and can know when the “living child” arrives (the moment yang qi stirs in internal alchemy practice) and unite with it in the way of “gathering without deliberate gathering.” In movement and stillness alike, one keeps emptiness and stillness and returns to chaos.

The “true person” in the Kan trigram drifts to and fro yet stays at “the compass center” (in practice, the inner place of centrality and correctness). Yang qi rises and falls, enters and leaves incessantly; the original spirit moves up and down through the “three valleys” (several qi channels in the body); viewed from the Yellow Court onward, every place can be called the mysterious pass. From the Mysterious Female Gate (the portal where yin and yang meet and qi enters and leaves) to the yin qiao aperture (a key pass in Neidan terminology), all belong to “the compass center.” Above and below each has a “center” character; linking the two into one body is what the Analects, “Li Ren,” calls “my Way is threaded through by one.” When intention is this single-minded and unwavering, one can reach the state of not a single thought arising. If one deliberately fixes attention on the Mysterious Female Gate, thoughts will instead arise one after another; to reach a state without stray thoughts, one cannot do without “listening” to breath—that is, focusing on hearing one’s own breathing.

The character for “life” (ming) can be analyzed into four parts: one, person, mouth, and ear. Mouth and ear must unite before one can grasp life (ming); using mouth and ear together also resembles listening to breath with the ear. When the text stresses the importance of the ear, it uses the form of the character for “great capital city” and the story of Guanyin Bodhisattva entering the Way through the faculty of hearing. The ear belongs to Kan, the mouth to Dui; Dui symbolizes the young woman and also metal. “Seeking in Dui” and “falling into Kan and seeking within Kan” both relate to seeking “metal.” Kan and Dui each consist of yin and yang lines; if the top line of Dui becomes the middle line of Kan, the hexagram becomes Tai. Here “Tai” also connects to the realm of “vast peace and stability.” Only by continuing practice according to the method of returning to emptiness (letting spirit and mind return to empty stillness) can one have real confidence.

At the very beginning, when yang qi first arises, it is extremely faint. When it reaches the body, whether a person can perceive it is still uncertain; if one can notice it, that is called “jue” (awareness).

The Kun hexagram’s top line, “dragons battle in the wild,” refers to the moment when yin reaches its peak and is about to turn and give birth to yang. At that time yin is very strong and yang is just beginning to sprout; the signs of change are extremely subtle. After yang has been generated, we have the Fu hexagram: yang is still hidden underground, and at this stage one cannot yet gather and refine. Therefore the Qian hexagram’s first nine line is used here to explain the meaning of Fu.

At the first nine line, yang is stored below—this is the stage of “qian long wu yong” (the hidden dragon—do not act). Yang has already stirred, but the signs are still faint, so it remains hidden and does not show itself; this is “wu yong”—do not rush to gather and refine, because the medicinal qi is still tender. Yang returns from below the earth like thunder shaking underground; the season corresponds to the winter solstice, hence “qian long wu yong”: yang is still below.

The second nine line’s “xian long” (the dragon appears) corresponds to the Lin hexagram (earth over lake): hidden yang comes into view and enters the “field”—here “field” means the dantian (the place in internal alchemy where qi is stored and nourished). When yang reaches the xuanpin gate (a term in internal alchemy for the pass where qi enters and exits and yin and yang meet), it is about to be felt by the body. “De shi pu” (virtue spreads widely) means yang spreads through the whole body like clouds moving and rain falling, with the sense of bright virtue flowing everywhere. At this point one must draw yang in and keep it in the body, and use the method of “huo bi jin xing” (using inner alchemical fire to drive qi through the channels) to make it full—this corresponds to the Qian hexagram’s third nine line.

The third nine line says “the noble person is qian qian all day”—“qian qian” means yang keeps stirring and running; “at night be vigilant as if in danger, and there will be no blame” warns that at this time one must apply effort in gathering and refining. “Gathering without grasping” means that in gathering one does not forcibly seize or deliberately chase, so one must hold the fire with the same care as being diligent by day and alert at night.

In practice, one should also take Kun, paired with Qian, as a reference, so that qi circulates everywhere in the body (“liu xu” refers to the six directions and other all-pervading regions), and with the stillness of pure Kun as the foundation, emphasize the work of “ding” (fixing) and “wang” (forgetting). “Ding” is single-minded stability; “wang” is forgetting the body. When one notices a thread of yang qi reaching the limbs, one should fix the mind in stability—this corresponds to the second nine line stage when yang is “in the field.” When fixing at the xuanpin gate, the intent may apply a little force, but one must never cling to the body.

First one must settle the outer body and mind before abundant yang qi can arise. The practice of stillness and tranquility is what cultivators should sustain in daily life. "All day long, vigorous and alert" (zhongri qianqian) describes unceasing refinement so that yang qi becomes full. When yang qi is sufficient, this corresponds to the fourth line of the Qian hexagram in the Zhouyi.

"Exert effort, yet never cling to the body" means that in practice one must apply effort but must not be attached to the physical body. "Hidden in the abyss" refers to the yang qi within the Mingmen (Gate of Life)—the locus of the life root in traditional Neidan. The yang qi from outside joins with the yang qi in the Mingmen; they resonate and merge into one. The text uses the character for "martial" (wu) because the Mingmen inherently holds innate yang qi; only when the two unite can they function. This is also the process by which yang qi rises to the cauldron (the site where yang is refined in Neidan) and fills the Li palace (in Neidan, often paired with the heart). When the Li palace is full, one obtains the qi of bright virtue (mingde) and gathers true yang.

If one cannot settle the outer body and mind, the third line cannot generate yang; if one cannot release attachment to the self, the fourth line cannot resonate and unite with the Mingmen yang. Even if one momentarily forgets the body, as soon as wandering thoughts arise—whether joy or fear—the yang qi produced may still dissipate. One must utterly forget body and mind to reach the fifth line. At the fifth line, when incoming yang is ample, it stirs the Mingmen and both kidneys, causing the outer yang to rise; yang also surges upward to the heart chamber and brings awareness. At this moment one should gather the medicine and return it to the pot (collect the yang produced in practice and store it in the dantian); heaven and human respond and activate together—hence the image of "the flying dragon in heaven."

Here "heaven" and Qian refer to the crown of the head; as yang rises and fills the Li palace, transforming it into Qian—this is what is meant by "filling Li to complete Qian." Yet in practice one should still take Kun as the substance and Qian as the function: maintain a vacant, still heart to gather yang; otherwise, advancing to the top line leads to what "the arrogant dragon has regret" describes—yang in excess and the arising of remorse. The yang at the fifth line is neither overripe nor immature—the right moment for gathering—and one should seize it in good time.

What is meant by “gathering and taking” (caiqu) is a state of “gathering without gathering, taking without taking”: when no thought arises and neither body nor mind clings, the inner vitality can naturally fill and spread through the whole body. If even a slight thought or intention appears, the yang qi has not yet arrived when it already disperses; even if it has arrived, it may immediately turn into post-heaven qi. “Post-heaven” here means qi shaped by consciousness and the physical form—unlike innate primordial qi.

When yang qi enters the body, one feels warmth and ease, like spring growth without burning heat; if it turns into post-heaven qi, one sweats and feels feverish. In practice, when gathering qi one fears its loss; when taking qi one fears its transformation.

When yang qi first arrives, the limbs may feel tingling numbness and softness; afterward the sensation spreads through the entire body. Its first entry into the body is called the “living zi hour” (huo zi shi)—the moment signified by the stirring of qi within the body; once the heart-mind notices it, that is the “living wu hour” (huo wu shi)—the moment when, after qi has stirred, the heart-mind becomes aware. The living zi hour belongs to qi; the living wu hour belongs to shen (spirit). Hence it is said “when the time arrives, the spirit knows”: as soon as qi stirs, the heart-mind is aware.

The cultivator should keep an empty heart, quiet watchfulness, and return to primordial chaos—this is “know the white, guard the black”: understand the inner changes yet hold to emptiness and stillness without reckless action. Recognizing the living zi and wu hours is “the elixir arises, the spirit knows”—what practice calls the “medicine” (the refined essence cultivated within) stirring, and the heart-mind knowing it. Once you know the moment has come, you must settle the heart-mind and not cling to signs outside or inside the body; you must not fix attention on the body or on thoughts—this is paramount.

When yang qi arrives, the body may feel pleasantly at ease yet soft and without strength; nevertheless the four limbs remain properly aligned and steady, unmoving like a mountain range. When numbness and tingling spread through the entire body, you may wish to forget the body yet cannot; this effect arises directly, so that even if you try to forget, you cannot. At this point you must stop the fire (zhihuo)—that is, halt this step of practice.

At first you work according to the hours, in the warrior fire (wuhuo) phase (a more active stage with stronger intentional effort). When the appointed time comes, you still carry the intention of warrior fire; once you forget the self, you shift to gentle fire (wenhuo) (a softer, slower stage); when you cease practice, that is stopping the fire. When one round of work is finished, you have truly gathered and obtained (caiqu). You should at once rise and walk about, or quietly recite verse or read in a low voice—never go on practicing immediately afterward. This point is paramount and must not be overlooked.

Stopping the fire is sealing and fixing (fenggu)—gathering in and holding what has been gained; otherwise yang qi heats up and leaks outward. Breaking into sweat means the medicine (the refined qi you have gathered) has slipped away, and that is what must be avoided above all. When yang grows excessive, it can turn back into yin; hence the saying “there is regret” (you hui, from the Yijing). Here three kinds of work can be distinguished: first, warrior fire is gathering (caiqu); second, gentle fire is warming and nurturing (wenyang); third, stopping the fire is sealing and fixing. These three methods have long been treated by true perfected ones (shangzhen, accomplished Daoist masters) as secret teachings and were not lightly spoken; I set them out here so they may not be neglected.

At the beginning of practice, through gathering and sealing you obtain a trace of yang qi; day after day the metal qi (jin qi, the refined essence in internal alchemy) fills, true yang flourishes, and only then does the outer kidney (wai shen, in male practice the genitals) rise. At that moment you should gather fire to carry the metal (juhuo zaijin) and drive the river chariot (fatong heche, the circulation that moves refined qi), so that it passes the barrier and ascends to Kunlun (the head). Thus one may realize “beneficial to see the great person” (li jian da ren, an Yijing line suggesting meeting what is truly great within). This is the small heavenly circuit (xiao zhoutian); its operation differs from that of the great heavenly circuit (da zhoutian), which will be explained in detail later.

For anyone cultivating the ninefold return (jiuhuan gong), the water source must be clear and pure. Some also take nocturnal yang arousal in dreams…

In all practice of the “nine returns” (jiu huan), the source of essence-fluid must be kept pure and clear. Some people experience nocturnal arousal in sleep and, upon waking, use that state to perform the nine returns work—but this is inadvisable. From the dream until waking, one cannot be sure whether other thoughts have arisen in the mind. Therefore there must be appropriate methods so that body and mind remain quiet even in sleep; only then may such essence-fluid be used. Once other thoughts arise, the essence-fluid is no longer pure and must not be used. Distinguishing whether essence-fluid is clear or turbid is among the cultivator’s most critical tasks. If you doubt its purity, it is better to discard it than to use it. The details of this will be explained later.

The innate Dao from beginning to end consists in “returning to emptiness”—that is, settling into emptiness and stillness. Emptiness and stillness respond to emptiness and stillness; the whole process is Neidan (internal alchemy) carried out within emptiness and stillness. Elixir methods divide into three grades—upper, middle, and lower:

Upper grade: no hexagram lines (gua yao), no weight measures (jin liang), and no timing and degree (huo hou); there is gathering (cai qu), but no fixed procedure.

Middle grade: no hexagram lines, but there are weight measures and timing and degree, and there is gathering, but no fixed procedure.

Lower grade: hexagram lines, weight measures, timing and degree, and gathering, all with a concrete procedure.

The highest-grade practice takes ding (stabilization) and wang (effacement) as its entire method from start to finish, without fixed operational steps (huohou); shou zhong bao yi—holding the inner center and keeping to oneness without scattering—is its huohou. From emptiness one returns again to emptiness; whether within the body or beyond it, response arises naturally. Such practice is wholly free of attachment to concrete form or outward ritual.

Middle-grade practice is half form and half formlessness, already leaning more toward definite images than the highest grade. The lowest grade relies entirely on tangible bodily signs and must follow fixed procedures. Thus the highest grade suits the superior adept (shangshi), who may attain results within a year; the middle grade suits the middle adept (zhongshi), with visible progress in about three years; the lowest grade suits the inferior adept (xiashi), but success is uncertain. Even when it succeeds by chance, it often takes many years, and many people never finish in a lifetime.

The lowest method is an “ease and comfort” approach: it can dispel illness but not extend life. The middle grade can still be pursued further, but it mixes xiantian (prior-heaven) and houtian (post-heaven) work and is slow to show effect. The lowest grade works only on the houtian body and stands below the middle tier. Most who teach danfa (elixir methods) today teach middle or lower grades; those on the path should know this.

The xiantian Great Way does not belong to these three grades of danfa, yet it shares much with the highest-grade practice. Its method is extremely simple; understanding may come in an instant. The secret of huohou lies in compressing time: a year’s work into a month, a month into a day, a day into one double-hour (shichen), until a single circuit heaven (zhou tian)—one full cycle of circulation—is completed in the blink of an eye. Steady application of the three words ding, wang, and zhi (stopping), without error, brings realization.

Middle-grade practice mixes in houtian cultivation and also uses intention and awareness, so it already falls into form; part of the work focuses on the body. When the final return to emptiness comes, transcendence is hard and refining the heart (lian xin) is difficult. Even perfect conformity to the method at best yields an earthly immortal (dixian), because cultivation still weights the tangible body. The lowest grade at most produces a human immortal (renxian), usually only a path to dispel illness and preserve health—far from full transcendence. Only the highest grade is the path toward divine immortality (shenxian).

What I am speaking of now is the highest and supreme true Dao of the Daoist tradition—the primordial Great Dao. It takes the Great Void (the boundless realm of empty stillness) as the cauldron, the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji) as the furnace, purity and stillness as the foundation of refining the elixir, non-action (wuwei) as the “elixir mother” (the root from which the medicine grows), nature and life (xing and ming) as lead and mercury, and concentration (ding) and wisdom (hui) as water and fire.

Concentration is water; from concentration wisdom arises, just as fire flares from within wisdom. Restraining desires and calming anger is the meeting of water and fire; only when there is stability can wisdom be born. Hence the Book of Changes, Gen hexagram: “The noble person restrains anger and checks desires.” When nature and emotion unite, it is like metal and wood joining; cleansing the mind and washing away stray thoughts is called “bathing”—that is, utterly forgetting distracting thoughts. Maintaining sincere intent and settling the mind is called “consolidating and sealing” (guji). Precepts, concentration, and wisdom are the three essentials of practice—the same as in Buddhism; what cultivators train is precisely these three.

The inner pivot is called the “mysterious pass” (xuanguan); clearing the mind is the manifestation of practice’s verification, and seeing one’s nature is the coalescing of accomplishment. When the three origins of heaven, earth, and humanity merge into one, it is called the “sacred embryo”; when nature and life become one, it is called “elixir formed”; having a body outside the body is called “leaving the shell”; only when the void is broken through is cultivation complete. This is the supreme subtle method; those with deep spiritual capacity can practice it. It is also called “simultaneous perfect and sudden cultivation,” “merit full and virtue lofty,” “direct leap to perfect sudden awakening,” “form and spirit both wondrous,” and “uniting with the Dao in truth.”

The effort we actually apply belongs to the gradual method, yet what we cultivate is “perfect-and-sudden dual practice”—roughly, advancing from the gradual until sudden awakening and complete penetration. As for the upper, middle, and lower grades, all belong to the gradual path; the gradual path is also expedient teaching (methods suited to the person). Transmission must be arranged differently for different people, and age matters greatly. At sixty-four years, one’s hexagram qi is exhausted; once hexagram qi is finished, yang qi has nothing left to draw on, and one cannot directly practice the highest Dao—one must first learn the gradual method. The gradual method is likewise teaching adapted to the person.

At the age of sixty-four, a person’s gua qi (the changes in the vital breath of life explained through the hexagrams) is exhausted. Once gua qi is spent, there is no yang left in the body, and one cannot at once practice the highest level of the Dao. One must first learn gradual, step-by-step methods: clear illness from the body, extend life, and let true yang (zhen yang) gradually return—only then may one receive instruction in the supreme One Vehicle Way.

Gradual methods fall into three grades: the highest can yield full realization of the Dao; the middle can dispel illness and prolong life; the lowest can only treat disease. What was commonly taught among the people at the time belonged to these three grades of gradual practice; few understood the supreme One Vehicle Way.

In the highest grade of the gradual method, Heaven and Earth serve as the cauldron-furnace (the overall setting for refinement and nurturing), yin and yang as the pivot of transformation, lead, mercury, silver, sand, and earth symbolize the Five Phases, sun and moon symbolize water and fire, nature (xing) and emotion (qing) symbolize the dragon and tiger, and focused intent is taken as the true seed. Because intent is treated as the true seed, this path is deliberate and intentional—it is not the supreme subtle Way rooted in wuwei (non-action). Hence it includes visualization practices (cunxiang): one first visualizes sun and moon as water and fire, nature and emotion as dragon and tiger, and intent as the true seed; one must also first visualize the “Mountain Root” (shangen, the area between the eyebrows, as in Mingxing Guizhi).

In this system, refining the mind through intent is called huohou (regulating the “firing” of the practice), stilling scattered thoughts is called nurturing fire, holding and storing the light of spirit is called consolidation (guji), and subduing inner obstacles is called field battle (yezhan). Body, mind, and intent are the “three essentials,” taken as the substance; the Celestial Heart (tianxin) is the Mystery Gate (xuanguan), taken as the function. When emotion returns to nature, it is called elixir formed (dan cheng); harmonizing qi and circulating it to warm and nourish body and mind is called bathing (muyu). This is a superior path for extending life. It resembles middle-grade practice; those of the finest capacity who practice it consistently can also attain the Dao, though what they attain is not the path of the Golden Immortal (jinxian).

The cultivation methods of the middle grade differ from what was described earlier. They place greater emphasis on concrete symbolism and correspondences between forms and the body: Qian and Kun serve as the cauldron and furnace—Qian corresponds to the head and Kun to the abdomen; Kan and Li are taken as water and fire, mapping respectively to the kidneys and the heart; the black crow and the white rabbit serve as the “medicinals,” standing for the mutual joining of heart qi and kidney qi. Jing, Shen, Hun, Po, and Yi together are called the Five Phases; body and mind are likened to the dragon and the tiger; and Qi is the true seed.

The year’s alternation of cold and heat is used as a metaphor for huohou—fire timing—meaning how one gauges progress and the right moment in practice. “Ritual water” poured in irrigation stands for * muyu* (bathing), the nourishing and cleansing of inner cultivation. Keeping inner visions from leaking outward and outer phenomena from penetrating inward is called guji (securing and harmonizing), so that the process stays closed and stable. Taiyuan, Jianggong, and Jingfang are three pivotal loci; the niwan (upper dantian in the head) is termed the xuanguan (mysterious pass), the inner void at the juncture of the great and small convergences, beyond a single focal point. The sites named here are places in the body that can be located in concrete form.

When spirit and essence intermingle and condense, that is called the elixir formed. Middle-grade methods for nurturing life are largely the same as the lower grade, with only slight differences. When practice succeeds, one may become a renxian (human immortal) and gain long life.

This type of elixir method is the one most widely taught today. Apart from heterodox side paths, most group teachings along the Way focus on this category. What Sun Jun of Tieling transmitted belongs to the upper grade; one can see this from his writings, because when he discusses gathering the medicine, he still preserves concrete operational imagery. There is also the lower-grade elixir method, which is even harder to achieve.

This approach takes one’s own body and mind as the cauldron furnace, takes Jing and Qi as the medicinal ingredients, and uses entirely post-heaven substances; it pairs heart and kidney as water and fire, the five viscera as the Five Phases, liver and lung as dragon and tiger, and treats Jing as the true seed; it arranges the firing times according to year, month, day, and hour; it calls swallowing saliva for nourishment “bathing”; it takes mouth and nose as the three essentials; it designates the region before the kidneys and behind the navel as the Mystery Gate; and it holds that when the Five Phases are harmoniously blended, the elixir can be refined. This is a cultivation method aimed at comfort and ease, and it bears some resemblance to the upper three grades of elixir method mentioned earlier, but the actual application differs.

Its flaw lies in treating the phrase “returning essence to nourish the brain” as a metaphor, yet still carrying it out literally in practice; some also adopt dual cultivation between husband and wife, limited to one’s own spouse, which still differs from deeds that create karmic harm. What is called taking the region before the kidneys and behind the navel as the Mystery Gate is a practice method that enters through breath: one uses intention to guide inhaled Qi to the area behind the navel and before the kidneys, so that the Qi swirls and gathers there.

The most essential point in the lower-grade elixir method is forgetting emotional attachment. If one can forget attachment, one can also nurture life and destiny; if one cannot, not only will one fail to nurture life—one may actually harm life and destiny.

Middle-grade cultivation treats qi as the true seed: when yang qi stirs and yang arousal appears, one gathers and refines it. Because the black hare and white rabbit (symbols of sun and moon) serve as the “medicine,” the tradition speaks of the left hand holding the golden crow and the right grasping the jade rabbit, and of “grasping the green dragon’s head with the left hand and the white tiger’s tail with the right.” This too is a method of nurturing life; practiced well, it can extend years and enrich life.

Upper-grade practice is close to the supreme vehicle and is said to lead to immortality and union with the Dao. The adept takes heaven and earth as the cauldron-furnace (the place where body and mind are refined), still holds to “emptiness” as the essential guard, treats a single thought as the true seed, and refines thought into intention as the medicine. First one trains to stop scattered thoughts; when distractions are exhausted, the genuine intention that appears is the true seed. Refining thought is the “fire timing”; resting thought is “gentle nurturing.” This does not contradict the supreme teaching of “empty mind.” So-called refining thought and resting thought are methods of cunxiang (focused visualization and inward contemplation); whenever cunxiang is discussed, the pattern is broadly the same. When spirit and mind are fixed in one place and one thought is guarded in practice, one may reach the rank of earthly immortal; but if the foundation is not pure, becoming a golden immortal is not easy.

Below, the upper, middle, and lower grades of the xuanguan (the pivotal locus in inner alchemy where body-mind resonance and qi activation occur) are explained separately:

• Upper grade: The xuanguan is in the upper body—the empty aperture at the mud pill and shangen region; some also take the celestial heart as the xuanguan. When yang qi stirs, the celestial heart is the xuanguan.

• Middle grade: The xuanguan is in the middle of the body, roughly one cun and three fen below the navel, behind the navel and in front of the kidneys.

• Lower grade: The lingguan is in the upper body—shangen as lingguan for cultivating nature (xing); the xuanguan is in the lower body—the mingmen as xuanguan for cultivating life (ming).

From the perspective of Buddhist cultivation stages, one can attain the fruitions of arhat, shravaka, pratyekabuddha, and the like. Here “thought” is treated as the fundamental seed of practice, yet this method still falls short of nirodha-samāpatti (“cessation attainment”)—the meditative state in which thought and concern are fully extinguished and the mind comes to rest.

In the view expressed here, the path that first realizes arhatship, then cultivates from arhat to bodhisattva and from bodhisattva to buddhahood—even talk of “enlightenment on the spot”—does not belong to the One Supreme Vehicle and therefore is not ultimate. Needing two graded stages to reach buddhahood shows that the root source still cannot settle in empty stillness, so realization comes slowly.

Today, in speaking of huohou (timing and progression in cultivation—the grasp of process and the right moment in practice), I have briefly outlined Daoist and Buddhist stages and related matters so that, when you later meet people who teach the Dao, you can hear them, read their works, and tell which grade and which vehicle their practice belongs to—avoiding wrong paths and helping your own cultivation.

The One Supreme Vehicle is the innate great Dao (the root, congenital path of cultivation): the gate shared by Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. “Only this one vehicle; the other two are not true” means that this alone is the real, ultimate method; the other two are not. Sages, buddhas, and celestial immortals in every age have entered by this way; the principle of Heaven is one.

The "fire phases" (timing and intensity of internal cultivation) discussed in Danshu (Elixir Writings) encompass upper, middle, and lower grades of practice. For this reason, when the text speaks of the pre-heaven (xiantian) realm, it also draws on post-heaven (houtian) phenomena for illustration, and further calls such expressions xiangyan—statements conveyed through images and language. On one hand it speaks of "gathering within emptiness"; on the other it speaks of "deliberate action." The distinction between these two ways of speaking is quite clear; what matters is whether the reader can understand and apply them correctly. Because of this, those who cultivate internal alchemy (Neidan), whatever grade they practice, will invariably study Cantong qi (Token of the Agreement of the Three) and Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality).

What I call the "tingling, melting" sensation, Patriarch Qiu (Qiu Chuji, founding patriarch of the Quanzhen lineage) called "soft, melting ease" (sumian). Master Shao (Shao Yong, Northern Song Daoist scholar) said "all thirty-six palaces are spring," and Bai Ziqing (internal alchemy master Bai Yujing) said "bone and flesh blend in harmony without one knowing it"—both describe this same soft, melting, harmonious feeling.

When a person reaches the stage of huanxu (returning to emptiness—a cultivation state of profound stillness and non-action), the Yang Qi (yang life energy, in Neidan terminology) that arises in the void can come to the self; in this there is a principle of mutual resonance and response. Because the cultivator has already reached a state of extreme emptiness and stillness, deep and silent, like the "body of pure Kun" (the utterly yin, quiet state symbolized by the Kun hexagram in the Yijing), quiet within and without, dim and profound—not only is the body emptied, the heart is emptied too, and not merely relaxed a little, but emptied and stilled completely. Yang Qi enters wherever there is opening; in a state of trance and indistinct perception, inner feeling responds to the outer, and it comes to the cultivator. This entire process is triggered solely by that subtle, hard-to-discern state of empty stillness. Wushang yuhuang xinyin miaojing (Supreme Jade Sovereign Heart Seal Wonderful Scripture) explains this in great detail; it will be discussed again later.

Yiguan tianji zhijiang, Volume 3, Lecture Eleven

Xinyin miaojing: Ancestor of Elixir Writings

Without relying on figurative language, its words are clear and its aim far-reaching.

In the corpus of Neidan (internal alchemy) classics, works such as the Yin Fu Jing, the Daode Jing, the Jade Emperor Heart Seal Scripture, the Scripture of Clarity and Stillness, and the Scripture of Fixed Contemplation are regarded as ancient foundational texts: their language is concise, and they seldom rely on symbolism or metaphor. Later authors, when composing their own books, repeatedly constructed images and analogies, layer upon layer, sometimes even metaphors within metaphors, so that students grow dizzy and confused, unsure where to begin understanding.

Immortals, perfected sages, and worthies formulated their teachings according to the needs of their age, addressing the faults of their time; therefore what they said sometimes emphasized one side of the matter. Readers need discernment to recognize each school’s path and entry, so they can grasp the true intent. Heterodox paths and side teachings arise mostly from misreading Neidan scriptures—which shows how difficult these alchemical books are to read. What follows is a sequential exposition of the Wu Shang Yu Huang Xin Yin Miao Jing (Supreme Jade Emperor Heart Seal Scripture).

“Supreme medicine has three grades: Shen (spirit), Qi (vital energy), and Jing (essence).” The finest of the three grades of medicine are Shen, Qi, and Jing.

The “Shen” spoken of here is one; “Qi” divides into two; and “Jing” is the third: when Shen and Qi unite, they generate Jing—together they are the three. Since they are called the “superior medicines” (the root substances used in cultivation), they are not things formed after birth but the innate Original Shen, Original Qi, and Original Jing.

Taken separately, the post-heaven Shen, Qi, and Jing refer to the conscious mind (shishen—the spirit of acquired consciousness), the spirit involved in thinking and deliberation, the breath of respiration, and the essence produced through sexual union between man and woman; these differ from the three innate ones. Original Shen is the “Qian-Yuan ancestral nature” (the source-level innate mind-nature), whose substance is empty and still. Original Qi is the qi born when the parents unite, from the joining of their essences and qi—that is, “innate qi within the post-heaven”—and Original Jing is the utmost essence at the beginning of primordial chaos. When the three unite as one, the Dao can be realized; this is what is meant by the “three grades of superior medicine.”

Once the post-heaven stage begins, Original Shen gives rise to the spirit of deliberation, and the spirit of deliberation is part of the conscious mind. The conscious mind itself arises from the transformation of Original Shen and Original Jing. When the intermediate state (between death and rebirth) enters the womb, the person is in an undivided, chaotic condition; though already possessing emotional consciousness, Original Shen is still present and can restrain desire.

After entering the post-heaven phase, Kan and Li (the trigrams symbolizing water and fire, yin and yang) take shape. The positions of emotion and nature also shift: emotion occupies the place that originally belonged to Original Shen, while nature falls downward and mingles with primordial emotion. Emotional consciousness replaces the original chaotic state of Original Shen, turning it into discriminating clarity. Therefore the conscious mind is said to be the form produced when primordial emotion combines with Original Shen and transforms. The spirit of deliberation is the conscious mind as it manifests in inner activity—hence it is called a “part” of the conscious mind; yet it actually governs the post-heaven human mind, so when speaking of the post-heaven, “spirit of deliberation” is often used to stand for it.

At first a person has only Original Shen; the conscious mind appears later. Original Shen and the conscious mind are like mother and child: Original Shen is the mother, the conscious mind (spirit of deliberation) is the child.

At the beginning, a person has only Yuan Shen (the innate, original spirit); Shi Shen (the acquired mind of consciousness and discrimination) comes later. Shi Shen enters the heart bearing the seeds of emotion and intellect and becomes the master of the person, then is gradually skewed by daily habits and environment. The acquired faults of human nature all follow from the pull of intellect. If intellect is not tainted, Shi Shen can still be as clear and empty as Yuan Shen.

Seen this way, Shi Shen originally arises from emptiness and stillness: when the body of emptiness and stillness meets the seven emotions and six desires, Shi Shen takes shape. Here “emptiness” is Yuan Shen, so it is said that Yuan Shen is the mother and Shi Shen is the child. Neidan scriptures and Buddhist texts call Shi Shen a “thief,” warning people not to “mistake the thief for your own child”; they call it a thief because it draws out biased habits, yet in the end it is still the “child” born of Yuan Shen. Neidan texts use “the child hidden in the mother’s womb” to describe the relation of Shi Shen to Yuan Shen. When Shi Shen can return to Yuan Shen, it naturally settles and no longer moves recklessly.

Breath qi and Xiantian Qi (the innate, formless primordial energy) also have a mother–child relation, but the opposite of that between Yuan Shen and Shi Shen: breath qi is the mother qi, Xiantian Qi is the child qi. Xiantian Qi is formless; breath qi is formed. What is meant by “returning from the formed to the formless” is extracting the innate, formless qi from the acquired, formed breathing. The Dao lies in the union of Yin and Yang, so that their qi steams through the whole body and can draw forth Xiantian Qi. It is like water under fire’s refining giving rise to clear qi: breath qi is the mother qi, Xiantian Qi is the child qi. The Neidan phrase “the mother sunk in the child’s womb” means that Xiantian Qi is gestating within acquired qi.

Both spirit and qi have mother–child relations, so inner alchemy practice has something to rely on. The “Child-and-Mother River” in Journey to the West is also a metaphor: Zhu Bajie drinks the river water and becomes pregnant; only after asking the locals does he learn why; once pregnant, abortion is impossible.

Just keep heading due south for more than a thousand li, and you will reach “Jieyang Mountain,” on which there is a spring called “Falling-Fetus Spring.” Drinking its water can end a pregnancy. If one drinks the water of the “Mother-and-Child River,” one becomes pregnant. Only after asking local people does one learn this; once pregnant, abortion is no longer possible.

The “innate primordial Qi” (xiantian qi) spoken of here is a metaphor for the true pre-heaven qi in cultivation. Some mistake visible, material qi for innate primordial qi when refining the elixir, fall into form and substance, and refine only an illusory pill—so the scripture uses the story as allegory. The “Mother-and-Child River” belongs to the Land of Women; the Land of Women stands for pure yin and qi that has taken form.

Spirit and qi also have a “mother-and-child” relation, but primordial essence (yuan jing) and copulative essence (jiaogan jing) are not the same. Yuan jing, though called “essence,” is in substance qi—the source before emotional intent stirs. Primordial spirit (yuanshen) unites with primordial qi (yuanqi) and gives rise to yuan jing; this is pre-heaven. After that, post-heaven spirit and the breath of respiration mutually stir and activate, turning into formed essence—copulative essence—which is post-heaven.

Here the discriminating spirit (shishen, post-heaven consciousness) is called “one,” the breath of respiration “two,” and yuan jing “three.” When one, two, and three combine, they become “four”—namely copulative essence. It cannot generate and transform on its own; it must be formed from the union of the three. Therefore the cultivator must first transform copulative essence back into yuan jing—this is “refining essence into qi” (lian jing hua qi); that is the first step. The second is “refining qi into spirit” (lian qi hua shen), the third “refining spirit and returning to emptiness” (lian shen huan xu).

Copulative essence arises when desire stirs, and there is a corresponding organ of generation as the gate of entry and exit. Unless this “root of lust” is dealt with, lust cannot be cut off. The cultivator must turn the formed into the formless, the not-yet-empty into emptiness, so that passion returns to original nature. To sever the root of lust, one must first transform copulative essence into yuan jing.

The Surangama Sutra opens with Ananda’s encounter with a demoness: trapped in her chamber of lust, he has not yet severed the root of sexual desire, so he has not attained “exhaustion of outflows” (the state in which afflictions and carnal craving are fully cut off)—and thus cannot escape this calamity. The scripture says that though what is lost is semen, semen arises from the interplay of spirit (shen) and qi; therefore spirit and qi are drained away along with it.

Only when one has realized “exhaustion of outflows” is there no further such dissipation, and only then can the root of lust be cut. Why did Guanyin (Avalokiteshvara) attain the Way through the faculty of hearing? In classical neidan (internal alchemy) theory, the ears and the kidneys both belong to Kan (the Water trigram in the Five Phases and Bagua system). When essence (jing) leaks from the kidneys, it is also connected to the orifices of the ears. Hence one regulates the breath and gathers what is heard back into the ears, so that spirit settles and is kept inward. If one wishes the kidney water to be clear, one must first cleanse the root of hearing; then the kidney water will naturally become clear.

The ears can hear in all directions—thus they are said to have twelve hundred merits; the eyes see only ahead, not behind—eight hundred merits; mouth and nose, like the eyes, each eight hundred; mind can grasp near and far, like the ears, twelve hundred. Buddhist practice first purifies the root of hearing and the root of mind, seeking true intent to return to the root of hearing, then attains the Way through Guanyin’s path of cultivation. Because the twelve hundred merits of hearing and mind can govern the eight hundred, Guanyin, upon enlightenment, could sever both the root and the thoughts of lust.

The scripture divides human lust into three: lust of mind, lust of body, and lust of the root faculty. Cutting off only one—say bodily or mental desire—cannot fully end lust or reach “non-outflow”; one must cut the root of lust to truly end it, reach “exhaustion of outflows,” and manifest the “horse-hidden genitals” sign (the appearance in which the practitioner’s genitals retract and conceal). Daoists describe the same phenomenon as “the yin retracting like a turtle.” According to this passage, only after completing the minor heavenly circuit (the neidan practice of circulating qi through the Ren and Du vessels) and “seven returns, nine reversions” (neidan terms for the return and refinement of essence and qi) does this sign appear; then one can cut the “three lusts,” restore the child body, and cultivate “higher De and wuwei (non-action)” (the higher path of quietude and non-striving). Cultivating truth in a childlike body is precisely the highest level of the Way of wuwei.

The method of cultivating step by step through the upper, middle, and lower grades is not like that. Even when one’s practice is very deep, it is still hard to cut off the root of lust entirely; at most one can weaken it so it no longer stirs, without reaching the state of complete removal and restoration of the “child’s body” (undamaged original essence). Practitioners of the middle and lower grades find it even harder to sever that root. Because their cultivation mixes in post-heaven essence and qi, they can at best dispel illness and extend life—still far from becoming an immortal. To become an immortal, one must first cut off the root of lust. The saying that “immortals in heaven do not leak vital essence” expresses exactly this principle.

The “method of ease and joy” (Anle fa) includes many techniques for gathering and refining post-heaven qi: treating consciousness and the breath as the ding and lu (cauldron and furnace) of body and mind, comparing them to the “medicine” and to the “crow” and “rabbit” (common neidan symbols for yin-yang or sun and moon), and then capturing the essence-qi produced in sexual union between man and woman. Yet all of these are things with form and substance—what can they ultimately achieve? They can only make the body look temporarily smooth and the complexion ruddy. Whatever has form and substance will in the end decay. Some also hold that during union one should not emit semen but “return” the essence to the body; this too is a heterodox, deviant teaching. Those who advocate husband and wife cultivating together at least do not ruin personal integrity; but those who treat women as the “ding” (vessel for extraction) are creating karma, not practicing the Dao.

The so-called upper-grade “three medicines” are originally pre-heaven and formless; how can post-heaven, tangible things be called “upper”?

The so-called “three upper medicines” refer to the formless, pre-heaven shen, qi, and jing; things of post-heaven form cannot be called “upper.” The Yijing, Xici (Upper): “What is above form is called Dao.” “Above form” here means the pre-heaven realm. Pre-heaven shen, qi, and jing are the root medicines used in elixir work; fire and water are included in them as well.

Yuanshen (original spirit) is master of the heart; yuanqi (original qi) is master of the body; yuanjing (original essence) is master of intention. When shen moves, qi moves with it, and jing is stirred accordingly—so the scripture speaks of shen first, then qi and jing. Bai Yuchan said: this shen is not the everyday thinking mind, but yuanshen in the chaos before division; this qi is not breath, but the qi of supreme simplicity; this jing is not the jing produced by male–female union, but what is called “saliva from the Jade Emperor’s mouth.”

Pre-heaven yuanshen is the substance in which emptiness moves—it is both true emptiness and can manifest subtle being; pre-heaven yuanqi is principle-and-qi within the supreme ultimate—it is both subtle being and returns to true emptiness. Laozi says: “The two emerge together yet differ in name; both are called xuan; xuan upon xuan is the gate of all wonders.” Yuanqi is called “xuan”; yuanshen is called “xuan upon xuan.”

When yuanshen and yuanqi unite, yuanjing is produced—called “essence of utmost yang.” Buddhism says: “I have one treasure, hidden in the Form Mountain.” Daoism says the pre-heaven point of yang jing is not in heart or kidney, but in the “single pass of the primordial barrier.” Yuanguan is the subtle pass where shen and qi combine into the medicine and yuanjing arises. When the medicine forms in practice, the so-called Form Mountain appears; when the Form Mountain topples, yuanjing fully transforms into qi, and one attains “leakage exhausted penetration” (the state of cutting off afflictions and the bonds of birth and death). Hence the scripture describes this with “toppling the banner pole before the gate.”

Shen (spirit) is lodged in xing (inner nature), and Qi (vital energy) is lodged in qing (emotion and disposition). Together they make up the five factors: xing, qing, shen, qi, and jing (essence). When these five are gathered into three, the result is called the “three grades” (san pin); the three grades are the superior medicines used in elixir refinement.

Confucian teaching takes xing and qing as its starting point, hence “center” (zhong) before emotion and intention have yet to appear, and “harmony” (he) once they have appeared in due measure. “Achieving center and harmony” means bringing the three grades back into one whole. The Book of Changes says: “Qian and Kun are xing and qing.” (This quotation appears in the “Commentary on the Decision” to the Qian hexagram; an old note holds that “Qian and Kun” should read “benefit and firmness.”) It also says: “Refine the meaning until it enters Shen.” (See the “Appended Statements,” lower section.) And again: “Preserve and harmonize the great harmony; each set right xing and life (ming).” (See the “Commentary on the Decision” to the Qian hexagram; an old note places the latter line before the former.)

The li (principle) and Qi of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) are lodged in qing, which is why the pair is also called “xing and life” (xingming); here, li and qi are the nature and life that Heaven bestows on human beings. The superior medicines are “true lead” and “true mercury”: true lead is likened to the jade hare in the moon, true mercury to the golden crow in the sun—they are also named the White Tiger, the Green Dragon, and the qi of the two “strings.” That is how they are spoken of as symbolic “drugs.” In actual practice, original shen serves as fire and original qi as medicine; original shen is like the wood-fluid within fire, original qi like the metal-essence within water. That is how they are spoken of in terms of the work of cultivation.

These two are the true sun and moon within the body. When sun and moon unite, that is “Change” (Yi), is the elixir (dan), is illumination (ming)—that is, “the Way is that one yin and one yang.” The innate three grades know neither birth nor death: three may fold back into two, and two into one. They are not the same as the acquired discriminating shen (the mind that sorts and calculates), the qi of ordinary breathing, and the jing of sexual union; those latter are taken to be what keeps one turning in birth and death, vanish when the person perishes, cannot count as superior medicine, and on the contrary injure xing and life.

That state is dim and elusive, deep and still, hard to pin down in clear words.

These lines describe the signs that appear when the “medicine” (the elixir ingredients of practice) is forming, and the way one enters cultivation. The Laozi says: “In vagueness and indistinctness, there seems to be an image; in indistinctness and vagueness, there seems to be a thing; in depth and darkness, vital essence is contained. This essence is real and not empty; within it there are signs.”

“Vagueness and indistinctness” (huanghu) refers to when yang qi is arriving; “deep obscurity” (yaoming) refers to when yin stillness has reached its extreme—the two are distinct. At the beginning of practice, one should let the mind-spirit return to emptiness and stillness, unite spirit (shen) with qi (qi), and enter a state of chaos (hundun). When chaos reaches its limit, one enters “deep obscurity.” Deep obscurity means that inside and outside the body are pure and clear, and the body feels as if it were empty of everything. At this point all conscious activity stops; body and mind seem forgotten—you neither feel a “self” nor feel the body as having form. The realm is deep, remote, and dark, hard to measure, so it is called yaoming. The scripture repeats the term to stress stillness at the deepest depth. Alchemical texts call this moment the “meeting of hai and zi”—the practice juncture when the hai and zi hours meet.

Then heaven and earth join, sun and moon unite; the ten thousand things seem to sink into emptiness, yet a subtle spark of life is gestating within. The state of primordial wuji (limitlessness) is the root from which heaven, earth, and all things are made—hence “within it is essence.” Here “essence” (jing) is the supreme essence of primordial chaos (hunyuan), the fundamental refined qi that generates heaven, earth, humanity, and the myriad beings—it is the primordial essence produced when primordial spirit (yuanshen) and primordial qi (yuanqi) unite.

In chaos, the yang within primordial qi stirs, hidden inside deep obscurity. Though no form is seen, heaven and the human being have already begun to join. When primordial essence is about to arise, “within it is trust/sign.” “Trust” (xin) means a sign—a message that must appear and will not be missed. True essence arises from utmost stillness and formlessness; the sign also appears at the peak of stillness. When the sign comes, true essence reaches the corresponding place in the body. The “trust” spoken of here is the sign of the “living zi hour” (huo zi shi). Once the sign arrives, the realm shifts from deep obscurity into vagueness and indistinctness.

Vagueness and indistinctness means that within chaos one suddenly has a faint awareness, yet it is as if there were none; body and mind are empty, quiet, and settled, as if one were wrapped in mist. Then the qi in the three palaces (the body’s places where essence is refined and stored) is full, inner function stirs, and there seems to be a sound or vibration—you only know that change is happening, nothing more. The head feels half awake and half not, half asleep yet not asleep—hence huanghu. The scripture repeats the term to stress emptiness, purity, and stillness at the extreme. Alchemical texts call this the realm of the “living zi hour” or “living wu hour.”

At this point, true Yang (innate yang energy) has already begun to arise. “Subtle being” (the subtle yet real presence) and “profound emptiness” (a state of empty stillness without clinging) do not obstruct each other: profound emptiness does not exclude subtle being, and subtle being does not exclude profound emptiness. Hence it is called “therein is an image”; the “image” here is the sign of yang energy stirring and coming forth.

In vast silence, when there is no movement at all, once something arises from nothing, inner resonance immediately connects—this state is called “dim obscurity.” When yang energy returns to life, the “medicine” (the refined essence spoken of in Neidan practice) is also produced; when stillness reaches its depth, inner substance becomes full. Essence, Qi, and spirit—the three grades—blend invisibly, hidden within this dim obscurity, as if an image were already there, while body and mind remain empty and still. When sincere trust appears, that is “therein is a thing”; the “thing” here means the medicine, namely that innate true yang has already reached the body.

True yang is aroused by resonance within the vast silence; true yin responds inwardly in the hour of dim obscurity. When one yang returns, the celestial heart (the original mind of the Dao) appears—this is “the medicine appears and the spirit knows.” When the spirit-mind has some awareness, the state is still one of dim obscurity; at this time one gathers the medicine by “gathering without gathering”—taking it in without deliberate effort, in natural accord. When the medicine appears there are already signs; once it is taken, it becomes a real “thing.”

Thus “trust” corresponds to the living zi hour (the moment when yang first stirs in practice), “image” to the living wu hour (when yang shows itself), and “thing” means the medicine is full and the time has come to take it. Daoists compare Neidan to the moon: when one yang first moves, it is called the moon at the geng position—like a thin new moon on the third day—symbolizing that the mind of the Dao has just arisen, also a time of dim obscurity. These eight characters all carry deep meaning and must not be overlooked.

Preserve non-being, guard being—in an instant it is complete

Read in continuation with what precedes, this line speaks of the work of gathering and obtaining the medicine; taken as the whole course of cultivation, the meaning is broader— from beginning to end, practice never departs from the four characters “preserve non-being, guard being.” What follows explains them one by one.

The Laozi says: "Bring the heart-mind to utmost emptiness and stillness; hold fast to tranquility in singleness of focus; the ten thousand things all arise and change together, and I observe how they return to their root."

"Zhi" (reaching clarity) means to understand clearly yet not cling to holding on; "shou" (holding fast) means single-minded continuity without interruption. Emptiness cannot be held by deliberate effort, yet stillness can be held. Emptiness is "non-being"; when it reaches its extreme, "being" arises. Stillness is "being"; when holding is single-minded and deep, it returns to "non-being." Only when emptiness reaches its extreme does a state of vagueness and indistinctness appear; only when stillness is held deeply can one enter yaoming—the deep, silent realm beyond words.

A scripture on the elixir says: "The hollow void without bound is the xuanqiao (mysterious aperture); knowing yet not holding is gongfu (cultivation effort)." This is preserving non-being. "Closing the mouth and letting the eyelids fall, silently peering within" (converging the senses, lowering the gaze, and looking inward in silence) is holding being. "Rest the heart-mind at the gate of supreme goodness" is preserving non-being; "know when to stop at the gate of supreme goodness" is holding being. Preserving is zhi: preserving non-being can enter yaoming; holding being can manifest vagueness and indistinctness. Preserving non-being is observing the subtle without desire; holding being is observing the aperture with desire.

In the early stage of practice, one makes the heart-mind empty and still, forgets the bodily form, understands without clinging, settles the spirit and harmonizes the breath, until body and mind return to a state of primordial chaos—this is the gongfu of preserving non-being. When body and mind are both quiet and one enters the yaoming realm, the sign of "one yang returning" (the first stir of yang, the sign of revival) appears, like thunder in the earth trigram, and one shifts into the realm of vagueness and indistinctness. Then one gathers the spirit, enters the qixue (the place where qi gathers in practice), uses firing times to move the golden qi, until the golden qi is full and round as the full moon and the "medicine" is solid—this is the gongfu of holding being.

"Gathering" means gathering when one is not deliberately gathering; "taking" means taking when one is not deliberately taking. Setting the self aside, the body is instead nourished; forgetting form, form is instead preserved—again the gongfu of preserving non-being. Then refining, gathering the medicine back into the vessel, sealing it firmly so true gold fills the dantian, gradually accumulating until the inner elixir forms—again the gongfu of holding being. After the inner elixir is complete, one continues in wuwei (non-action) until the primordial spirit ascends and shatters empty space—again the gongfu of preserving non-being.

Thus the four words "preserve non-being, hold being" run through the whole course of practice; even in an instant one can form the elixir. The great Dao is inherently simple; there is no other method. "Preserve non-being, hold being" is the cultivation effort of the "three grades of resonance"; "vagueness and indistinctness, yaoming" is the appearance at the time of the "three grades of blending." Practitioners who reflect carefully will grasp the subtle point for themselves.

To preserve “non-being” (wu) is to let the spirit-mind return to emptiness and stillness. Only by doing so can one enter the realm before chaos was divided. At that point the inner mind is empty, clear, and silent, with no thoughts arising; the acquired, discriminating “conscious spirit” (shishen) is cleared away. Within, one does not cling to the mind; without, one does not cling to the body—this is called both body and mind at rest, which is what “preserving non-being” means.

After spirit (shen) and qi (vital energy) unite, the mysterious aperture (xuanqiao)—the key site in Neidan (internal alchemy) where spirit and qi meet—appears, and a single mass of true intent seems to be there and yet not there. Once the central earth (zhongtu)—the region of the spleen and stomach, symbolizing the harmonizing center—is established, one guards this mass of true intent; this is called the “Yellow Woman” (huangpo), the mediator that harmonizes Yin-Yang. Then water and fire naturally join, metal and wood naturally merge. Guarding this bit of true yang, one can condense it into the returned elixir (huandan) spoken of in internal alchemy. In an instant, the circulating breath of the microcosmic orbit (zhou tian) gathers—this is called “the three families meet” and “harmonizing the Five Phases (Wuxing)”, which is “guarding being” (shou you). This is explained from the angle of fire phases (huohou)—adjusting the progress and intensity of practice.

Spirit has no form and belongs to yang; qi has form and belongs to yin. Yin and yang generate each other, just as “non-being” and “being” mutually complete each other. Yang in heaven manifests as images; yin on earth congeals into forms. What “preserve non-being and guard being” means is to harmonize yin and yang.

In people of acquired conditioning, the original spirit (yuanshen)—the mind-spirit that was originally clear and bright—has already been disturbed by the shishen, so one must first preserve non-being. Preserving non-being means clearing away the shishen and the “four marks” (si xiang)—fixation on self and on outer things—so the spirit-mind returns to emptiness and stillness. The primordial qi (yuanqi) in the body has already sunk into the Kan position (symbolizing yin and cold), so one must next guard being. Guarding being means that when “one yang returns” (yi yang lai fu)—when yang qi is first reborn—one holds fast to the original mind and lets the “medicine” (yao)—the refined essence in Neidan—be generated. This is explained from the angle of principle and meaning.

When one first begins cultivation and practice, one must unite Shen (spirit, mind-heart) with Qi (vital energy)—that is, let “being” (you) and “non-being” (wu) interpenetrate each other. Then, as Shen and Qi further resonate and merge, one no longer clings to either pole of being or non-being; the mind becomes clear and still, and even the distinction between “being” and “non-being” no longer remains. The Wuzhen pian (Wuzhen Section, a classic of Daoist internal alchemy) says: “Being and non-being from this point naturally interpenetrate; if you have not reached this state, how could you simply imagine it into existence?” This is precisely what it means not to be attached to either being or non-being.

Therefore, one must first not be attached to “non-being” before one can truly hold and preserve. When without desire, one contemplates the mysterious (xuan); one restores one’s own state of true emptiness—this is “preserving non-being” (cun wu). From non-being, being arises; true essence (zhenjing, the refined vital essence spoken of in practice) stirs, and the Mysterious Female (xuanpin, symbolizing the root of life and the place where essence and Qi generate and transform) appears—only then should one guard “being” (shou you). When desire stirs, there are concrete orifices and gates to contemplate.

Thus, in terms of practice, “preserving non-being” belongs to Wuwei (non-action), while “guarding being” belongs to deliberate action (youwei); in preserving non-being one does not force or fabricate, while in guarding being one actively applies the method. The above concerns the principles at the level of concrete practice.

The statement in the Preface to Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir that one “must not guard with a deliberate mind, nor pursue with a mind of empty nothingness” means: in practice, let mind and intent stay unified and undistracted—that is “guarding being” (shou you); at the same time, do not give rise to stray thoughts—that is “preserving non-being” (cun wu). One should use true intent (zhenyi) that lies between intentional and unintentional, and thereby discern “being” and “non-being.” “Guarding being” does not mean guarding with a willfully clinging mind; “preserving non-being” does not mean pursuing with a mind that is blank emptiness.

The practical entry is to keep thoughts from arising while keeping mind and intent unified and undistracted. To keep mind and intent undistracted, one must first keep thoughts from flaring up; when thoughts do not arise, mind and intent can stay unified. Conversely, sustaining unified mind and intent also helps keep thoughts from arising. The two mutually complete and transform each other; the practitioner should discern this within the process.

The practitioner should first rectify mind and intent so that true intent always stays clear, bright, and still. Then, in holding to “being,” stray thoughts naturally do not arise, and one can also preserve “non-being.” First purify the six consciousnesses (the perceiving and discriminating functions of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind); inwardly one apprehends emptiness and non-being, and mind and intent can sincerely return to correctness—this is preserving “non-being,” and thereby one can avoid clinging to “being.” This is explained from the angle of how one enters practice.

The four characters “preserve non-being, guard being” (cun wu shou you) encompass much of the path of cultivation; from beginning to completion, the path cannot do without them. Speaking from refining jing to transform it into qi (lian jing hua qi), that is “guarding being”; speaking from refining qi to transform it into shen (lian qi hua shen), that is “preserving non-being.” Speaking from cultivating the self (lian ji)—training mind and nature—that is “preserving non-being”; speaking from laying the foundation (zhu ji)—establishing the root of practice—that is “guarding being.” Inner alchemy (neidan) methods such as the seven reversals and nine returns (qi fan jiu huan) and the jade fluid and golden fluid (yu ye jin ye) are also contained within these four words.

Returning the breath in circulation and blending yin and yang qi (hui feng hun he)—within a hundred days’ work effects can appear.

These two lines continue from what precedes them: they refer to the practice of the Small Heavenly Circuit—the method in which inner Qi circulates through the Conception and Governing vessels—and thus to “establishing the foundation in a hundred days.” “Storing non-being and guarding what exists” (cun wu shou you) means that, within the firing process of the Small Heavenly Circuit, one concentrates on the work of “producing the medicine” and “obtaining the medicine.” When one achieves “returning the wind and mixing,” essence can be transformed into Qi over the course of a hundred days. Here “wind” means Xun wind: in alchemical language it denotes true breath—the regulated, deep inner respiration; when true breath opens and closes, that is called “returning wind.”

“Return” means one ascent and one descent: Qi cycles between the Conception and Governing vessels; the “wheel of the law” (the neidan image for the movement of Qi) turns along the central Yellow Track; yang fire rises along the black track on the left, yin talisman descends along the red track on the right, and finally returns to the Kun position (the yin direction)—that counts as one day, and the cycle repeats. Inner sun and moon alternate in coming and going; outer sun and moon seem to reverse; yang Qi rises against the ordinary direction—that is “returning wind.” When yang Qi enters the Qian cauldron (the inner furnace symbolizing Qian yang), yin and yang unite, and only then does true fluid descend into the Huangting (the mid-body field of internal alchemy), congealing into cinnabar grains.

“Mix” means yin and yang join and return to primordial chaos; “combine” means lead and mercury (neidan terms for yin–yang essences) meet and coalesce. The Four Hundred Words says: “Heaven and earth exchange true fluid; sun and moon meet true essence”—that is precisely this meaning.

Ge Hong said: “The Heavenly Cart ascends straight to the peak of Kunlun.” Xiao Zixu said: “The Heavenly Cart turns freely on earth hundreds of times.” Here, “Returning Wind” is the “Heavenly Cart,” referring to the circulation of yin and yang qi within the body, flowing through the six directions like a wheel or windmill turning.

“Three hundred and sixty circuits of the celestial orbit” uses the image of heavenly circulation to describe qi circulation; saying that the foundation is formed after three hundred circuits is a general statement. During the hundred-day foundation-building period, averaging about three circuits per day is likewise a rough estimate. Here, “true breath” is compared to Xun wind, taking its quality of being gentle and subtle. Qi opens and closes in harmony; through practices such as “nine returns and seven reversals,” primordial qi is restored—that is the function of Returning Wind.

“Nine returns” speaks of the union and blending of Qian-Kun and Zi-Wu; “seven reversals” speaks of the union and blending of Kan-Li and south-north. Whether it is letting Wu earth return to Ji earth so the two soils merge into one gui, or drawing Kan water to fill Li fire so Li returns to Kan—all describe yin-yang harmonization. Inner and outer joining, metal and wood meeting, dragon and tiger interacting—these likewise explain fusion. First mixing, then uniting; after uniting, returning to undifferentiated fusion. Spirit and qi unite and enter a state of chaos; heart and breath rely on each other and become deep and still; sun and moon join to form the elixir; heaven and earth unite to form the great elixir—all are regarded as results of mixing.

At the hundred-day juncture, the practitioner refines the self and builds the foundation; the Returning Wind work done is precisely to fuse true yin and yang qi, hence it is called “hundred-day work of efficacy.” “Efficacy” (ling) means subtle and hard to fathom, and also clear, luminous awareness without dullness. Hundred-day practice makes body and mind thoroughly tempered and the foundation firm, restores the innate void-luminous primordial spirit, and stills the restless wandering of deluded thought. Innate nature thereby tends toward fullness and clarity—hence it is called “building the foundation” (zhuji).

The "foundation building" (zhuji) spoken of here means clearing away distracting thoughts and cultivating the fundamental skills needed for practice. Through "preserving emptiness and guarding what is present" (cun wu shou you)—keeping the mind from chasing external things while focusing on inner cultivation—body, mind, and intent come together as one, giving rise to the "innate true yang qi" (xiantian zhenyang zhi qi), the innate vital energy of Daoist neidan, which circulates ceaselessly within the body as the basis for forming the elixir. The scripture compares the speed of results to "calling a valley and getting an echo, or standing a pole and seeing its shadow"; it also says the spirit can regain clarity and no longer be obscured by dullness.

The "hundred days" mentioned in the text is symbolic; the actual time needed varies with constitution, age, and diligence. Some finish in a month, others may take much longer. Neidan texts also use three hundred cycles of the small heavenly circuit (xiaozhoutian) to indicate the period for foundation building; if one cycle is done each day, a year would suffice, but progress still differs from person to person. As for "refining the self" (lian ji)—tempering and gathering the mind—there is no fixed term: only when body, mind, and intent reach "three grades in harmony" and one obtains the "medicine" (yao) in a short time can one speak of performing the "returning-wind heavenly circuit" (huifeng zhoutian), the practice in which qi rises and falls in neidan. According to the scripture, mastering these ascending and descending changes means grasping the timing of foundation building. After three hundred heavenly circuits, the inner elixir forms naturally; when refining the self is thorough, foundation building has a set period—before that, there is no fixed schedule.

"Silently paying homage to the Supreme Lord, ascending in one cycle" (mo chao shangdi, yi ji feisheng) means silently contemplating and revering the Supreme Lord (Shangdi), and after twelve years (one cycle) attaining ascension.

These two lines continue the preceding discussion and describe the process of “refining Qi to transform Shen (spirit)”—using the macrocosmic circuit (greater celestial orbit, a cycle of nurturing practice measured in a year) to warm and nourish the primordial spirit.

“Shangdi” (the Supreme Lord) here means the lord of Shangqing—that is, the primordial spirit in the “celestial valley” (tiangu, the upper cranial region); “mozhao” (silent audience) means acting in Wuwei (non-action). When body and mind do not force anything, spirit and Qi naturally merge and settle in the upper field (upper dantian). In the usual sequence of practice, the hundred-day foundation work belongs to the lower field; when one enters the “seven-day celestial circuit,” the focus shifts to the middle field; after the “embryo” is formed, cultivation moves from the middle field to the upper field, reaching the stage of “spirit emergence”—hence the phrase “ascending in one ji (cycle).”

“One ji” means one full turn of the stellar cycle and one circuit of the Dipper’s handle—i.e., one year—not one hundred twelve years. The image is the moon following the Dipper’s handle, moving from the zi position through to the hai position.

The crux of this passage lies in the two characters mozhao (“silent audience” or inward reverence), which encapsulate the huohou (timing and intensity) of Neidan (internal alchemy) practice.

The Laozi says: “The highest De (Virtue/Power) acts through Wuwei (non-action) and does not rely on probing and seeking.” Here “the highest De” means the pure Yang, undefiled state of original authenticity. Innate ancestral Qi (the congenital vital energy already present in the body) is there from the start; with upright reverence and sincere intent, one can clarify the mind and see one’s true nature—this is “acting at ease” and “knowing by birth.” Body and mind do not force contrivance, yet Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) move of themselves; this is the “natural, true huohou,” with no need to stoke it like firewood.

“Mo” (silence) means gathering in the three gates of ear, eye, and mouth so they do not scatter outward. “Zhao” (audience) means aligning one’s inner emptiness and stillness with the emptiness and stillness of Heaven and Earth, and one’s inner void with the void of Heaven and Earth. This is the sense of “Heaven follows the Dao, the Dao follows Ziran (naturalness).” In practice one does not push or force; as distracting thoughts gradually fall away, the light of nature naturally brightens and expands into the realm between Heaven and Earth, as if body and cosmos were one continuous passage.

After foundation-building (zhuji), the body is said to return to a childlike state: the scattered Yuanshen (primordial spirit) comes home, and depleted Yuan Qi (primordial vital energy) is replenished. In other words, through postnatal cultivation one regains the prenatal, then goes further back toward the prenatal source. When gathered, it can take form; when dispersed, it becomes Qi (vital energy). The yin spirit turns into a yang spirit, filling the cosmos, sharing the virtue of the Great Void (Taixu, the boundless empty expanse), and the brightness of sun and moon.

At this stage “stillness” is paramount: make the heart empty and quiet, forget the body, do not cling to distinctions of self and other, sentient beings, or lifespan, and do not treat any appearance as ultimate reality. Hold to true authenticity, and “dragon and tiger” will meet naturally; maintain emptiness, and Yuanshen will naturally transcend. The text speaks of “one year,” yet also of only ten months, because the “bathing” (* muyu*) intervals of the Mao and You months are deducted; the count comes to three hundred days. Each day completes one zhoutian (one circuit of Qi in Neidan practice), three hundred circuits in all. Through these three hundred days one need not fix the mind on technique—only return to empty stillness—and one can naturally see the nature, release the spirit, and ascend.

“Zhao” also means ceaselessly, with utmost sincerity, keeping Shen (spirit) present in the Tiangu (heavenly valley, an inner locus in the head), so that the heart-nature in the Shangqing Palace (an inner locus associated with the head in Neidan terminology) becomes spiritually responsive. “The Emperor emerges from Zhen” borrows a Yijing (Book of Changes) image for the stirring of life; then naturally appears the scene of “Qian’s fifth line: the flying dragon in heaven.” When the golden light grows as large as a wheel, the yang spirit rises out of the physical form—this is called “form and spirit both wondrous, united with the Dao in truth.”

The final stage of “returning to emptiness” (huanxu) deals specifically with cultivating the Fashen (spiritual body that transcends the flesh), not with ordinary physical attainment. The scripture therefore says “here the text stops”: according to its account, cultivation up to this point can long preserve what has been gained, and the work of the immortal is complete.

Those who understand find it easy to awaken; those who are blind to the Great Dao find cultivation hard.

The previous passages have already explained the methods of cultivation; these two lines serve as the conclusion, and this section is also the backbone of the whole scripture. The so-called “three top-grade medicines” are Jing, Qi, and Shen; when the three are harmonized and gathered, they become the elixir. After a hundred days or a year of practice, one can ascend to the jade gate palace (the celestial abode of the supreme lord)—is that not an utterly simple matter? Yet cultivation itself is not hard; what is hard is hearing the Great Dao. Hearing the Great Dao is not hard; what is hard is believing it. Sages of every age have passed it mouth to ear and heart to heart, never relying on written words. Only those of sharp capacity who receive the secret oral instructions can believe and practice accordingly; those of shallow capacity laugh at this instead. Hence Confucius said: “If I heard the Great Dao in the morning, I could die content in the evening.”

“Knowing” here means innate knowing (liangzhi). When innate knowing is fully brought forth, intention becomes sincere; when intention is sincere, the heart-mind is upright; when the heart-mind is upright, conduct can be properly cultivated. Cultivating body, heart-mind, and intention—making them sincere, upright, and well-ordered—all depend on innate knowing as guide and on innate capacity (liangneng, the fitting action that innate knowing expresses) for fulfillment. Innate knowing manifests as innate capacity; as the Book of Changes says, the way of Qian is “easy to know” and the way of Kun is “simple in capacity”—that is the origin of the phrase “the Great Dao is simple and easy.”

When innate knowing is not obscured, the Great Dao appears utterly simple and easy; though one does not strive artificially, nothing fails to be accomplished. Once one awakens, one can penetrate heaven and earth. Innate knowing belongs to “centrality”; innate capacity belongs to “harmony”; to reach innate knowing is to reach central harmony (zhonghe). Stabilizing heaven and earth and nourishing the myriad things—the principle lies here. If innate knowing is dimmed and the discriminating mind (the calculating, comparing mind-consciousness) takes charge, Jing, Qi, and Shen are constantly drained by being pulled toward outer sensory objects; that becomes the root of falling into hell—how then can one speak of cultivating the Dao?

Innate knowing (liangzhi) is the manifestation of the original spirit’s (yuanshen) clear, awakened awareness—our inborn spiritual ground. When it is still, it is utterly quiet and undivided, without discrimination or stray thoughts; when it responds to affairs, it penetrates principle and pours forth sincerity, meeting each situation with natural adequacy. This is like heaven’s own sound—pure and in accord with natural law; facing things without confusion, nor missing their true character; responding to the ten thousand things without losing the root, while the power that brings them forth is unfathomably deep—this is innate capacity (liangneng, the natural efficacy we already possess). Innate knowing and innate capacity are originally one: innate knowing is the mind’s thought resting in supreme goodness; innate capacity is action carried through to supreme goodness. When knowing and capacity are one, thought and conduct both abide in supreme goodness.

The mind of supreme goodness is empty and luminous to the utmost; the ground of supreme goodness is vacant and still to the utmost. Because the mind is empty and bright, the true spirit is not obscured, returns to sincerity, and is not tempted by outer things into selfish intent; the inborn awakened awareness then appears as innate knowing. Because the ground is vacant and still, the heart is not stained by worldly thoughts, shines with reverent attention, and is free of partiality and leaning; the wondrous illuminating awareness stirs of itself and shows as innate capacity, and the Dao is present therein. When knowing and capacity are one, body and mind are clear, upright, and spirit-like in resolve. As Book of Poetry, Zhou Odes, “Decree of Heaven” says: “How deep and vast, without cease; from early dawn, never slack”—meaning the way of heaven is vast and ever-moving, and the person should likewise never relax day or night. This is why the great person (daren, one of lofty virtue) values “knowing where to rest” (zhizhi, knowing that thought and action should abide in supreme goodness).

“Obscured” (mei) means the seven emotions and six desires block the heart, and body and mind are entirely driven by the acquired mind (shishen, the latter-heaven mind of discrimination and calculation). Such a person cannot even fully rest and recover quiet purity. This is the state in which the human mind’s wandering thoughts hold sway and the mind of the Dao (daoxin) is veiled; even if they hear the great Dao, they may not truly believe it or practice it—hence it is said that cultivating the Dao is difficult.

From the opening to here is one chapter, explaining the stages of the great Dao and the “medicinals” and “fire phases” (yaowu and huohou, terms in Neidan for the conditions and rhythm of inner refinement). What follows will further explain how to begin practical cultivation.

Tread upon the light of heaven; breathe to nurture clear qi.

This chapter explains directly how to begin cultivation practice. The opening lines state that refining oneself (cultivating heart-and-mind) must start from sincere practice; this is the path of cultivation that returns from the post-heaven condition to innate nature. The wording is profound; what follows unpacks it layer by layer.

“Heavenly Light” (tianguang) is the yang Qi within Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the primordial yang vital energy—what alchemical texts call “innate true yang.” Qian (Heaven) symbolizes the sky; in the Five Phases it belongs to Metal, with qualities of firmness, centrality, and unceasing self-strengthening. The celestial body is empty yet luminous and bright, covering all things; thus yang Qi, though formless, can appear as light. When it gathers it becomes the sun, illuminating the ten thousand things. The Yijing says: “In heaven it forms images.” Here “images” means the form of light.

The key to cultivating heart-and-mind lies in “empty the heart and fill the belly” (xuxin shifu)—making the heart clear and empty, the belly full and solid. The Wuzhen pian says: “Empty heart and full belly—both meanings run deep; only because empty heart requires knowing the heart. If you do not know that refining lead means first filling the belly, I teach you to guard the hall full of gold.” In the trigrams, the heart corresponds to Li (Fire); its middle line is empty. Li originally formed when innate Qian and Kun interchanged: the yang line at the center of Qian sank into Kun, forming Kan (Water), while Qian thereby turned into Li. Heaven has always corresponded to the heart; since the celestial body is empty yet luminous, the human heart too can be clear, empty, and bright. Only when the heart is empty can the belly be truly full; when the belly is full, the heart can truly be still and empty.

“Filling the belly” here means gathering innate Qian Metal—the primordial vitality symbolized by the Qian trigram. Innate Qian Metal is the upright Qi that generates heaven and earth, also called “primordial ancestor Qi” or “the rational Qi within Taiji.” This speck of ancestor Qi originally lies beyond the three realms and the Five Phases; because it accumulates and gives rise to heaven and earth, texts borrow “true gold” as a metaphor and call it “firm and strong,” taking the sense of diamond-like indestructibility.

People whose post-heaven virtue has grown thin find the original Qian-Kun images already turned into Kan and Li—Yin and Yang mixed, nature (xing) and life (ming) separated. Habitual temperament rules; innate nature is obscured; pure, unforced feeling fades while feelings driven by material desire grow strong. To become a person of virtue, one must first apply self-restraint: straighten how one sees things, broaden knowledge, and make the inner mind upright and sincere. Reaching “sincerity” is empty heart. Before one has reached empty heart, one must first find ways to restrain the inner mind; what is called “accumulating gold to fill the belly” refers precisely to this stage.

Among the Five Constants (benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, faithfulness), “righteousness” (yi) also corresponds to Metal. The “filling the belly and accumulating gold” spoken of here is gathering the qi of righteousness and nurturing the flood-like vital breath (haoran zhi qi). Daoists call this flood-like upright qi “true gold”; it arises from inner emptiness and stillness and must be drawn in through resonance between person and Dao. Once upright qi is full, deviant and stray thoughts in the heart recede and material desires become easier to restrain.

Alchemical books use many metaphors for this Qi, hence the many names. This classic is ancient and uses fewer metaphors, so it calls it directly “Heavenly Light.”

“Lu” refers to the hexagram Tianze Lu (Fulfillment): Qian above and Dui below. The Yijing says: “Qian above and Dui below—that is the Lu hexagram.” Confucius said: “Lu is the foundation of virtue.” When the hexagrams are used to explain cultivation, one begins with “Lu.” The line text for Lu’s initial nine reads: “Treading on the tiger’s tail; the tiger does not bite.” Here the tiger is the white tiger symbolized by the metal qi of the Dui trigram. The Wuzhen Pian says: “The white tiger’s head scripture is the supreme treasure; the flower pool’s divine water is true gold.”

“White tiger’s head scripture” denotes pre-heaven true yang. Obtain it and you succeed; miss it and you fail. So-called “true gold” is originally the pre-heaven Qian-yuan qi—formless and without substance, born from emptiness, hidden in what is deep and hard to fathom. Alchemical texts therefore borrow the hexagram image and say it is born in Kun: Kun stands for utmost emptiness; it is also stored in Dui, which stands for the deep and hidden. Guangchengzi said: “It shines forth from heaven yet reaches the root of utmost yin.” The meaning is that true yang appears in the heavens but is actually generated beneath the earth.

Kun represents earth and old yin. Old yin cannot give birth, so lesser yin takes Kun’s place on duty; Dui represents the marsh and also symbolizes lesser yin. Qian belongs to metal, and Dui also belongs to metal; Qian is yang and active, Dui is yin and still. When stillness reaches its extreme it turns to movement, and yang arises within yin; when movement reaches its extreme it turns to stillness, and yin arises within yang. Hard and soft alternate and shift in endless cycles—hence pre-heaven yang qi is born within Kun and Dui.

When one yang first appears, that is the Dilei Fu hexagram (Return), symbolizing the heavenly heart just beginning to stir; when two yang arise, that is the Dize Lin hexagram (Approach), symbolizing the heavenly heart already revealed. This is precisely the time when fire must be applied, so cultivation must start from “Lu” and be carried out in earnest. Both “Lu” (treading) and “jian” (practicing) imply feet firmly on the ground; “Tianze” forming the Lu hexagram symbolizes using inner yin qi to draw in outer yang qi.

The Daoists say “enter the tiger’s den to seek the tiger cub.” Here “tiger cub” refers to water. At the pre-heaven level, water symbolizes the “heaven-one qi”—the primordial activating principle-and-qi within Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). This qi gathers and forms heaven, hence it is called “pre-heaven.” When the generative order of the Five Phases is reversed, water in turn generates metal—this is called “metal within water.”

“The tiger’s tail” is the bottom line of the Dui trigram; so-called “white tiger true gold” belongs to the yang qi in the Qian trigram. Thus what appears in the Dui trigram is only like the tiger’s tail. Once this secret is understood, one can grasp the principles of birth and killing, reversal and transformation: tread the tail without fault, and the tiger naturally will not bite.

In the human body, Qian symbolizes the head and Dui the mouth and tongue. The mouth is the gate through which breath enters and leaves; in Dui, five yang lines contain one yin, which also symbolizes a gate. Cultivators who start from the Lu hexagram and practice according to Kun’s charge to “circulate through the six voids” can obtain what is called “yang of heavenly light”—that is, the “medicine” spoken of in elixir refinement.

Some scholars think “tianguang” (heavenly light) was a copyist’s mistake for “tianxin” (heavenly heart), and that reading is quite reasonable. Still, yang qi gives rise to images while yin qi gives rise to solid form; the sun, moon, and stars hang in the sky and all show forth brightness, so “tianguang” can also be read as the light formed from yang qi—in cultivation, the “medicine,” that is, the true yang qi (zhenyang zhi qi) of Neidan (internal alchemy).

Mountains, seas, and rivers rest on the earth as things with form. When the cultivator’s originally pure qian yuan (innate primordial vitality) shows its true face, authentic nature shines by itself; when true yang arrives, the sign also appears of xushi shengbai (the inner chamber empty and still, as if white light arises within). Calling this “tianguang” is therefore apt.

This line continues the preceding discussion and concerns the subtle efficacy of genuine practice and cultivation—it is extremely important. The four characters in the phrase encompass the work of cultivation and, above all, the essential secret of transmitting the mind-method (xinfa).

The “breathing” (huxi) spoken of here is the coming and going of breath at the nose and mouth, yet there is a distinction between that of the “true person” (zhenren) and that of the ordinary person. Zhuangzi says: “The true person’s breathing reaches down to the heels; the ordinary person’s breathing reaches only to the throat.” “Breath reaching the heels” is a image for breath that runs deep; “true breath” (zhenxi) is also called “fetal breathing” (taixi), referring to inner breathing—matters of the “inner sun and moon” at the level of the innate (xiantian). Breathing through the nose and mouth is outer breathing, also called “ordinary breath” (fanxi)—matters of the “outer sun and moon” at the level of the acquired (houtian).

The sun and moon cycle without cease, giving rise to the four seasons; breath goes out and comes in, sustaining human life. Both are modeled on the hexagrams Kan and Li; Kan and Li are said to be the embodiment of the innate Qian and Kun. When Qian moves it closes and gathers; when Kun is still it opens and expands—closing and opening together is called transformation; coming and going without rest is called penetration. Thus Qian and Kun have the symbolism of a gate opening and closing, and between heaven and earth the cosmos operates like a bellows being pumped.

The great void (taixu) takes heaven and earth as its womb and the sun and moon as its breathing, and therefore never ceases to operate. Human beings sustain life through breath: on inhalation, it is as if one draws in the qi of all things in heaven and earth to nourish oneself; on exhalation, heaven and earth and the myriad things seem to draw in one’s qi. Qi circulates through the whole body, governing the five senses, the hundred bones, the four limbs, and the nine orifices, enabling a person to move and act. When qi is exhausted, the person dies and breathing stops. The human form can remain alive only by relying on qi; qi can come and go without ceasing only by relying on breathing. Qi originally comes from outside; people borrow it to maintain life. Each exhalation and inhalation becomes the root of life for the entire body—hence its supreme importance.

External breathing employs material Qi—the kind associated with Earth: heavy and turbid. Internal breathing employs formless Qi (what Daoists call innate primordial Yuan Qi): it arises from Heaven and is light, pure, and clear.

At birth, internal fetal breathing comes first; only afterward does the body take in material Qi through the nostrils. Once internal breathing stops, one enters the postnatal condition and innate clarity withdraws from view. People stay alive through inhalation and exhalation, yet in the Daoist view the root of true life still lies in internal breathing. Both the fetus’s fetal breathing and the perfected person’s true breathing are forms of internal breathing.

According to this account, “true breathing” is said to sit about one cun and three fen below the navel: Yuan Qi gathers invisibly there and, when it moves, turns like a wheel. When true breathing stirs, Yuan Qi spreads through the limbs, rises to the Mud Pill (the crown region), descends to Yongquan (the acupoint at the sole), climbs along the back of the body and descends along the front, becomes true fluid, flows into Huangting (the inner alchemical region in the middle of the body), and accumulates to form the elixir. For this reason true breathing is treated as the foundation of cultivation.

What alchemists mean by “exhaling connects with the root of Heaven, inhaling connects with the root of Earth” is the path along which Yuan Qi circulates. After birth, fetal breathing is cut off and only mouth-and-nose breathing remains. “Refining the self” (lianyi) is the work of regulating breath to nurture the body and seek the way of immortality. The four characters “breathing nurtures clarity” (huxi yu qing) express the same idea.

“Nurture” means to gestate and bring forth; “pure” refers to the qi of true breathing—that is, the true breath (inner breathing) nurtured from outer breathing. Form-bearing qi and formless Qi share the same root. When mouth-and-nose breathing ceases, the true breath within the body arises naturally; yet one must first quiet wandering thoughts completely, and only then will mouth-and-nose breathing stop. What is called “returning to emptiness” is settling both thought and breath until the pulse stills and one enters a state without obvious breathing. Chen Nidan said: “In former practice, after a year the six pulses had already stopped, and qi returned to the root.” “Returning to the root” means turning ordinary breath back into true breath. The method of cultivation lies in uniting spirit (Shen) with qi so they become one; afterward nasal breathing seems to be there yet not there, primordial qi is warmed and circulated within the body, and the “wheel of the law” (the image of qi’s circulation) keeps turning.

“Emerging from the mysterious and entering the female portal—seeming to vanish, seeming to remain.”

These two lines continue the preceding account, describing the state once true breath has formed. The term “mysterious female” (xuanpin)—the Daoist image of the subtle gateway—summarizes the gateway through which qi enters and leaves. When one contemplates the “subtle” and the “aperture,” one no longer clings to being and non-being.

These two lines continue the preceding discussion, describing the situation when true breath (Zhenxi) takes form. The four characters “Xuan Pin churu” (the mysterious pass opening and closing) carry the sense of a gateway opening and shutting. The cultivator must simultaneously observe both “miao” (subtle wonder) and “qiao” (aperture), neither clinging to being nor clinging to non-being, so that the medicinal ingredients can arise within the mysterious aperture.

“Xuan” belongs to yang and symbolizes Heaven and Qian; “pin” belongs to yin and symbolizes Earth and Kun. Xuan is emptiness within which subtle function is present; pin is subtle function within which emptiness is present. The two characters “xuan” and “pin” in alchemical texts are extremely important. Bai Yuchan said: “Where the thought first stirs—that is Xuan Pin.” Zhang Ziyang said: “Establish the foundation entirely through Xuan Pin.” He also said: “You cannot use deliberate mind to guard it, nor can you use mindlessness to seek it.” Lü Chunyang said: “Xuan Pin, Xuan Pin—the true Xuan Pin; it is neither in the heart nor in the kidneys. When one speaks of the moment one first receives Qi and receives life, do not blame me if every secret of Heaven is fully disclosed.”

The Xuan Pin spoken of here is not some concrete aperture or point in the physical body, but refers to the moment when a person first receives Qi—when life-giving vital energy is received and life itself is formed. Xuan Pin is the foundation on which the cultivator attains the Dao: what is called “building the foundation” (zhuji) is establishing this root; what is called “refining the self” (lianji) is cultivating this root; “obtaining the medicine” (de yao) is gaining it; and “forming the embryo” (jietai) likewise rests upon it.

The Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir says: “The medicinal ingredients arise in the mysterious aperture.” The mysterious aperture is Xuan Pin; within it, “pin” also carries the sense of an aperture. It is also called the “mysterious pass” (xuanguan) or the “gate of Xuan Pin” (xuanpin zhi men). However, “mysterious pass” and “gate of Xuan Pin” each refer to a single aperture, whereas the two characters “xuan pin” encompass a broader meaning.

“Emerging from the Mysterious and entering the Feminine Gate” (chu xuan ru pin) means leaving yang and entering yin—or, put another way, passing from being into non-being. Once we speak of “going out and coming in,” there is a gate and also a sense of inside and outside. In the usual reading, “going out” is from within toward without, and “coming in” is from without toward within.

In alchemical scriptures, however, we also find “inner Mysterious Feminine” and “outer Mysterious Feminine,” and the Huangting Jing says “going out into clarity and entering the Mysterious, the two qi exchange”—which can seem at odds with the present passage. In fact, xuan pin (the Mysterious Feminine) names how the real arises from emptiness: when things reach the utmost void and hidden depth, the pre-heaven true yang is born from that emptiness—subtle and hard to fathom—hence the name “Mysterious Feminine.”

“Emerging from the Mysterious” is connecting with the root of Heaven when exhaling; “entering the Feminine Gate” is connecting with the root of Earth when inhaling. Both phrases describe the use of zhenxi (true breath—the inner breathing spoken of in cultivation), so that yuanqi (primordial pre-heaven qi) ascends and descends. Because breathing has a visible form, “going out and coming in” is used as a metaphor; in reality nothing shaped truly enters or leaves—both movement and stillness are without form or trace.

On exhalation, yang qi rises—this is called “emerging from the Mysterious.” On inhalation, yin qi sinks—this is called “entering the Feminine Gate.” The text says “going out and coming in” rather than “ascending and descending” because the turning of qi always passes through a gate—the “gate of the Mysterious Feminine.”

“Going out into clarity and entering the Mysterious” adds another layer: entering the feminine portal and thereby generating Mysterious qi is called “entering the Mysterious”; drawing qi up from the Mysterious to the “first peak of Penglai” is called “going out into clarity.” Overall, the Mysterious Feminine stands for true yin and true yang; true-breath respiration moves them invisibly through the zhoutian (full circuit of qi in the body). On exhalation, qi leaves through the gate of the Mysterious Feminine and rises; on inhalation, qi descends and enters that gate. True yang and true yin meet at the Mysterious gate and unite in the feminine portal—inwardly as the joining of Kan and Li, outwardly as the meeting of Dao and righteousness. Where the heart of Heaven returns is the Mysterious Feminine. The root of the Way is entirely here.

The phrase “ruo wang ruo cun” (“as if absent, yet as if present”) describes how to regulate the fire (huohou) in practice: the mind is neither deliberately erased nor deliberately strengthened—held in a state that seems almost gone yet still there. Mencius’s “wu wang wu zhu” (“do not forget, do not force”) means exactly that: do not forget, and do not push with effort; Confucius’s “wu gu” (“do not be rigid”) means do not cling or hold fast. Where the Heavenly Heart (tianxin)—the quiet, natural original mind—returns to rest, that is the Mysterious Female (xuanpin), the root of generation and transformation in Daoist teaching. The foundation of the Way rests entirely here.

“Ruo wang ruo cun” means the mind does not force concentration, nor does it slip away completely; it stays in a state that is there and not there at once.