《一贯天机直讲》Vol. 6

“Ruo cun ruo wang” (as if present, as if absent) describes the measure of huohou (fire timing): neither clinging with deliberate effort nor letting the practice lapse entirely. Mencius’s “wu wang wu zhu” (do not forget, do not force), Confucius’s warnings against rigidity, absolutism, arbitrary intent, and ego (wu gu, bi, yi, wo), and the “an an” (ease) of Yao, the “yong yong” (harmony) of King Wen, and the “zhi zhi” (stillness) of the Duke of Zhou—all are taken as essentials for tuning post-heaven breath and grasping the huohou of cultivation.

To adjust post-heaven breathing in order to obtain zhenxi (the natural, subtle breath spoken of in practice), the crux lies between intentional and unintentional. Forcing the effort easily fixates on outer form; paying no attention at all easily falls into empty void—both hinder what practice calls “generating the medicine and establishing the xuanqiao” (the mysterious aperture). In “chu xuan ru pin” (the Daoist inner-labor language for breath’s egress and ingress), one must likewise be as if present, as if absent: too much attention is excess; complete letting-go is deficiency—both are unfavorable to “lian qian chou gong” (refining lead and drawing mercury, inner Golden Elixir terms). With these four words fulfilled, following nature and releasing discriminating thought, huohou can naturally fit.

“Mian mian bu jue, gu di shen gen” (continuous and unbroken, firming the stem and deepening the root) follows directly on “ruo cun ruo wang.” Breath should be fine, long, and unbroken—almost breaking yet not breaking, as if there yet as if not: that is “ruo cun ruo wang.” “Mian mian” means breath extremely prolonged and subtle.

“Continuous and unbroken” follows the earlier “as if present, as if absent”: the breath is long, fine, and unbroken—almost breaking yet not breaking, almost there yet not there—and that is the state of “as if present, as if absent.” “Continuous” (mianmian) means the breath is both long and fine, running from the root of nature above (xing gen—the place on which the life-nature depends) all the way through to the stem of life below (ming di—the root of life). In the deep, dim, trance-like state, if in every moment the breath can reach the heels, that is what is meant here.

Laozi says: “Continuous and unbroken; use it without strain.” The Classic of Embryonic Breathing says: “Exhale finely; inhale continuously.” These are all methods of regulating the breath—the path of practice called “exit through the mystery, enter through the gate” (chu xuan ru pin), the circulation of breath in and out of the deepest subtlety. One should do this day after day, moment after moment, never leaving this hold whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down; with long practice, the root naturally grows deep and the stem naturally firm.

The “root” here is the root of nature, the root of Heaven; the “stem” is life, also called the root of Earth. The scripture holds that at conception one receives qian yuan zu qi—the primordial source qi from Heaven—and thereby forms nature (xing); one receives kun yuan yuan qi—the primordial source qi from Earth—and thereby forms life (ming). The root of nature is where the valley spirit (gu shen—the inner numinous clarity) dwells; the stem of life is the source of true breath (zhen xi—the deep, subtle respiration), also called “the homeland where embryonic breath long abides and settles”—the place where embryonic breathing (tai xi) is nourished and stabilized. Through practice of “exit through the mystery, enter through the gate,” root and stem day by day grow solid, and nature and life day by day interpenetrate. When root and stem merge into one and the three return to one, what internal alchemy (neidan) calls the “embryo” is formed.

This is the second chapter, summarizing how one begins the work of cultivating the Way. The Great Way is inherently simple; the required effort is nothing else but to keep practicing as above—then one can ascend to Yujing (the jade capital—the celestial realm in Daoist cosmology) and roam in freedom.

Each person has jing (essence); jing and shen (spirit) unite with each other.

This chapter opens by explaining the origin of the Three Primordials—Original Spirit (Yuanshen), Original Qi (Yuanqi), and Original Jing (Yuanjing)—and the subtle workings of Original Spirit, in order to introduce the profound method of “joining the three and returning to the One.” It is one of the most important chapters in the entire book. The Original Spirit, Original Qi, and Original Jing spoken of here also encompass the postnatal spirit, qi, and jing; this means that practitioners can use the postnatal body-mind and their refined essence and energy to turn back and restore the primordial, authentic state. That is the path of cultivation known as “using the false to cultivate the true.”

The saying “each person has their own essence” (jing) is spoken from the standpoint of how the postnatal body takes shape. The Xici commentary on the Yijing (Classic of Changes) states: “When male and female unite, essences combine, and the myriad things are thereby generated.” The Cantong qi (Seal of the Unity of the Three) likewise says: “When a human receives life, the body is originally empty; primordial essence (yuanjing) spreads abroad and, relying on qi, lodges in the first form of life.”

The general meaning is this: at the very beginning of gestation, one receives the qi of heaven—vital energy in its life-giving form—as one’s nature (xing), and receives the qi of earth as the basis on which the embryo forms. Nature and life (ming) join and become one complete living being. After ten months, primordial essence is stirred by resonance and enters the body, dwelling in the Zhonggong Shenshi (the inner abode at the heart-center of body and mind), where it becomes master of the body; then the person is born.

After birth, one gradually learns to eat, move, and speak, and comes to understand benevolence and righteousness; from childhood through youth and maturity to old age, one finally dies and returns again to emptiness. Across those decades, whatever one does must be carried out through this body. Tracing life back to its start, it is nothing more than the union of parental affection and feeling, resonating with formless qi, and thereby giving rise to a formed body.

The formed body comes from the joining of formed reproductive essence (the generative jing produced by union of male and female); the formless spiritual qi comes from formless Li Qi (source-qi that embodies the patterns of heaven and earth). From then on, awareness is ruled by primordial essence, which opens the gates of the body’s senses and activity. The body is indeed formed from essence. Primordial essence is itself formless and belongs to the realm of the prenatal; on the postnatal level it is called “consciousness” (yishi).

If consciousness drives the body to follow and indulge worldly desires, one may fall into Avici hell; if one instead stills worldly affairs and desires, one may become a sage or an immortal. In postnatal life the body is always ruled by consciousness; whether clever or dull, worthy or unworthy, it is the same for all. Each person has their own consciousness and therefore their own primordial essence; in Buddhist terms this body is called the yisheng shen (the body produced by intention/mind).

“Essence unites with spirit” means: in postnatal human beings, the Yuanshen (primordial spirit) is hidden deep in an inner realm that cannot be seen or heard; primordial essence enters the Zhonggong Shenshi and governs the movements of body and mind-spirit.

The spirit within us (here meaning the inner function of spiritual awareness) has no manifest form to begin with; it only appears when thought and intention are set in motion, and for this reason it is also called the “knowing spirit” (Shen as it shows itself through conscious activity). The Primordial Spirit (Yuanshen), by contrast, is originally empty and formless, dwelling in a state before chaos has divided into distinct things, and it governs the activities of body and mind.

The Primordial Spirit is originally without knowing or awareness. Only when primordial Jing (xiantian life-essence) infuses the body does a person gain sensation and perception. Then this originally unknowing, unselfaware Primordial Spirit is hidden within the movements of consciousness, and while one is alive it can hardly be noticed at all. After death, spirit returns to emptiness, hence the saying that it is “without birth and without destruction.”

Those who cultivate the Dao must return to the Primordial Spirit. The Primordial Spirit has no fixed shape and cannot be seen directly; only by reaching an extreme of emptiness and stillness can one return to its original condition. Therefore alchemical texts say: “In stillness it is the Primordial Spirit; in movement it is primordial Jing.” When they speak here of “Jing merging with its spirit,” they mean primordial Jing entering the body and uniting with the spirit within.

According to the logic of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), spirit is “the One” and Jing is “the Three”: the One rests within Taiji, and the Three rests within the Two Modes (Liangyi, yin and yang). Where the Three resides is where the One resides, and where the One resides is also where the Five resides. The Zhouyi Cantong Qi (Concordance of the Three According to the Book of Changes), a foundational Neidan scripture, says: “Three, Five, and One are the most subtle things in heaven and earth; they can be passed on in oral formulas but are hard to set down in writing.” This is because One, Three, and Five all stand at the center of Taiji—they are the primordial Qi from which the myriad things are generated. When primordial Jing stirs within the human body, it becomes intention and thought; intention and thought belong to “central Earth” (zhongtu, the Earth of the Five Phases at the center), which is why it is said to go from One to Three, and from Three to Five.

Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) unite, and Qi in turn unites with the primordial true body.

The preceding lines explain how Shen and Qi function; the following lines explain the subtlety of returning from the post-heaven state to the pre-heaven. Taken together with the two lines above, they describe the path of starting from the physical form to seek the Dharmakaya—the body that transcends form and embodies true nature. All of this is natural transformation; it does not rely on deliberate human contrivance.

When Jing and Shen unite, as soon as intention moves, Qi moves with it; when Qi moves, Jing moves as well. At first what is stirred is formless Jing; in the end what is stirred is formed Jing. Shen, Qi, and Jing circulate and transform in cycle, giving birth to the ten thousand things—a principle exceedingly deep.

Shen is formless and belongs to Yang; Qi has form and belongs to Yin; Jing is what arises from the union of Yin and Yang. In “the Dao gives birth to One,” that One is Shen; in “One gives birth to Two,” the Two is Qi; in “Two gives birth to Three,” the Three is Jing. Jing is produced when Shen and Qi combine, which is why Jing can govern and hold together both Shen and Qi.

In the pre-heaven state, Shen is the master of change in the ten thousand things; in the post-heaven state, it lodges within Primordial Jing (the pre-heaven root essence). Whether Qi moves or rests also shifts with whether Shen is active or still: when Shen moves, Qi moves; when Qi moves, Jing is generated. Human nature (xing) and life (ming), in the final analysis, are nothing other than Shen and Qi. Shen and Qi unite to produce Jing; Jing clings to the physical form and governs it.

In the pre-heaven condition, Primordial Shen is originally empty void, and Primordial Qi is subtle being; Primordial Jing neither falls wholly into “being” nor into “non-being,” yet can make being and non-being merge with each other. That is why “Jing” is spoken of first here.

In the postnatal physical body, Yuan Shen (the innate primordial spirit) and Yuan Qi (innate primordial vital energy) lie hidden and do not manifest; only Yuan Jing (innate life essence) can still be sought in stillness and tranquility. The first step in practice is “refining essence to transform Qi”—starting from essence and tracing back to seek primordial Qi. Once Qi is obtained, one seeks Yuan Shen from within that Qi; this is called “refining Qi to transform spirit,” which means uniting Qi and spirit so they become one.

When essence, Qi, and spirit merge, it is like returning from the two modes of Yin-Yang to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), and from Taiji back to the original state of primordial true emptiness—this is “refining spirit to return to emptiness,” also called “utmost truth” (zhizhen). Utmost truth is Yang Shen (the pure yang spirit achieved in cultivation): in stillness and non-movement it is empty void; when responding to things it displays marvelous function. It is luminous and pure, and changes beyond prediction. Daoists call it “the true”; Confucians call it “spirit”—what is meant by “the sage’s realm is profound and cannot be fathomed by ordinary reason.” What is called “spirit” is the name for the subtlety of change in all things.

This formless body is called the “pure tranquil Dharma body”; speaking from its transforming function, it is called the “transformation body.” This means expanding and illuminating the nature Heaven has endowed, transcending the three realms (desire, form, and formlessness), and merging with the great void. The few sentences here describe how the practitioner, through refining essence to transform Qi, refining Qi to transform spirit, and refining spirit to return to emptiness, completes the Dharma body and reaches the state of utmost truth. The body of utmost truth, in the end, is the manifestation of the marvelous function of Yuan Shen.

Removing acquired consciousness (shishen) at the level of primordial essence and restoring the Yuan Shen one is born with, then merging it with primordial Qi to clear turbid yin and turn it into pure yang—the Dharma body is thereby made whole. This is also “the three meet as one” (essence, Qi, and spirit united): gathering the innate true Yi Qi, condensing and blending it, and refining the yang elixir. Hence it is said “Qi combines and the body is true.” The three sentences above must be read in sequence; only then does the final phrase “body true” have its basis.

Primordial essence (the innate subtle vital force) and primordial qi (the innate qi) both return into primordial spirit (Yuanshen), and together they manifest the complete and subtle functioning of Yuanshen. Yuanshen is originally pure yang qi; it belongs to the same order as the li-qi (principle and vital force) that first generates heaven, earth, and the myriad things within the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Therefore it is vast and full, able to align with the virtue of heaven and earth and to resonate with the light of sun and moon.

The scripture says: “Essence merges with spirit, and spirit merges with qi.” This means that spirit governs the movement of qi and also governs the refining of essence. Both phrases use the word “spirit,” which precisely indicates the subtlety involved.

Yuanshen in the state before chaos was divided is purely primordial in form. After a person enters the postnatal realm, primordial essence occupies the spirit chamber (the dwelling place of Yuanshen); emptiness gradually becomes something concrete, stillness gradually turns into activity, and original nature gradually turns into desire. True spirit is obscured, the six consciousnesses (perception through eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) arise from this, and the seven emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire) enter as well. People therefore sink day by day and endure the suffering of birth, aging, sickness, death, and rebirth.

If one can attain emptiness and stillness, remove the pull of external desires, and return the mind to the undivided state before chaos, innate knowing can shine forth again. With that opportunity, one nourishes it further, and Yuanshen can be restored. Once Yuanshen is restored, innate primordial qi naturally harmonizes, and the yin spirit-energy contained in primordial essence is dissolved accordingly. Is the role of spirit not exceedingly subtle?

If one has not truly grasped the meaning, all of these are no more than names imposed by force of convention.

The first two lines explain that Yuan Jing (primordial essence), Yuan Qi (primordial vital energy), and Yuan Shen (primordial spirit) are all pre-heaven (innate) substances. Only when the three unite as one do they become what cultivation calls true Jing, true Qi, and true Shen. If one does not obtain them, what people ordinarily call Jing, Qi, and Shen are merely post-heaven (acquired) things—not the genuine article.

Why put it this way? The post-heaven body is ruled by Shishen (the acquired mind of consciousness and discursive thought). Yuan Qi lies hidden and does not show itself; one keeps life going through breathing by mouth and nose, and through food and drink one generates the seminal fluid in the body. Thus what mainly accumulates in the body is turbid yin qi. The three superior pre-heaven medicines without form—Jing, Qi, and Shen—are all stored deep and subtle, hard to perceive. Though they are still called Jing, Qi, and Shen, they lack the real efficacy of pre-heaven Jing, Qi, and Shen. The three post-heaven substances that have form and appearance are also forced into the names Jing, Qi, and Shen; they can only sustain the body’s workings for a few decades and cannot serve as the superior medicines for cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy grounded in Jing, Qi, and Shen). Hence “one does not obtain their truth.”

“Spirit can enter stone; spirit can make the form fly. Entering water, one is not drowned; entering fire, one is not burned”: Shen can penetrate stone and can also cause the physical form to fly; entering water one does not drown, entering fire one is not burned.

The four sentences above further explain the marvelous function of the Yang Shen (the original spirit that, in cultivation, returns to pure yang and possesses luminous awareness), supplementing what the preceding text emphasized about “spirit.” Spirit is originally formless and belongs to yang by nature; once one enters the post-heaven state, it becomes mixed with desire and mental activity and is further obscured by turbid yin, so it loses its capacity for emptiness, stillness, and luminous awareness.

In the pre-heaven condition, the essence of the Yuan Shen (original spirit) is true emptiness and can give birth to the myriad things; it moves between sun and moon yet casts no shadow, and enters metal and stone without leaving a trace. Because it is empty, there is no minutest place it cannot penetrate; because it is luminous, there is no situation it cannot respond to. It reaches the nine heavens above and the nine abysses below; when released it fills the four quarters of heaven and earth, and when gathered it hides in the deepest subtlety. All of this is nothing other than the expression of the pre-heaven primordial Qi (xiantian yi qi) flowing everywhere.

The spirit body (shen shen) of the Yang Shen can manifest a physical form when condensed, like a human body, and when dispersed returns to qi and merges with emptiness. Therefore tigers, leopards, rhinos, and oxen cannot harm it, swords and blades cannot pierce it, and water and fire cannot injure it. Spirit is the master of the whole person and the root of mental life; essence and qi unite subtly through the work of spirit. What the Yijing calls “the subtle meaning entering into spirit” speaks to this very principle.

When the Yuan Shen recovers its empty luminosity, it can respond to things as the heart wishes with inexhaustible subtle functions; thus the embodied form can also transform with spirit: when spirit appears, the body appears; when spirit withdraws, the body withdraws with it. This is the origin of what the ancients called the art of invisibility. The scripture also says: if you wish to live you can live, if you wish to die you can die. Confucius said: “If I heard the Dao in the morning, I could die content in the evening.” The Wuzhen pian says: “My fate is in my own hands, not heaven’s.” The Surangama Sutra says: “When the mind is unified, one can ascend in flight.” The scripture also says: “Spirit can make the body fly.” All these statements describe the marvelous function of the body transforming with spirit.

The subtle power that spirit (the text uses “shen,” meaning human consciousness and awareness) displays is especially visible when a person faces sudden peril. Someone caught in fire or flood may lift a thousand-jin weight or leap from a towering wall without fear—because the mind is wholly focused and the body is forgotten. If one steadily guards the yuanshen (fundamental spirit), the form seems set aside and the body may no longer be bound by death.

In the past, Shenxiu sent men to assassinate the Sixth Patriarch; blades struck but could not harm him. Lay followers set fire to Ji Gong’s monastery until it burned out, yet Ji Gong was unhurt. These are examples.

The Anshi Quanshu records: a monk obtained several jin of huangjing (Polygonatum) and planned to take it for long life, unsure whether it truly worked. He first had a man enter a dry well, placed the huangjing in the well, and after the man went in, sealed the mouth with a millstone. Unable to escape, the man thought he would die. Suddenly a fox spoke through a hole in the stone: “Spirit can lift the body. Fix your mind and gaze at the stone hole; in seven days you can fly out. We who cultivate the Way also begin by cultivating the body: dig a cavity in an old tomb, lie looking up at the opening; in time form and spirit transform together.” He did so and on the eighth day flew out through the stone hole. The monk was delighted, thinking it was the huangjing’s effect; he jumped into the well and had his disciple seal it again—and died there days later.

The Zhiyouzi also records a technician who could enter fire unburned and water without drowning. Zhiyouzi summoned and questioned him. He answered: “I have no other secret—I can forget myself. Formerly my master taught: when entering water, treat the body as dead wood and limbs as rotten branches; when entering fire, treat the body as mountain rock and limbs as mud and cotton. Fix the mind and concentrate; fire and water cannot harm me.”

These illustrate forgetting the body and deploying spirit. That technician only held concentration briefly and still achieved such effects; if cultivators always nurture spirit, could they not ascend and become immortals?

Spirit comes into play by relying on the physical form; essence grows full as qi becomes abundant. Then a person can remain evergreen like the pine and cypress—without decline or decay.

These four lines supplement the meaning of this chapter and explain further where essence, qi, and spirit come from and how they become full. Spirit is originally insubstantial; only after it attaches to the body does it act. Before birth there is not yet the name “spirit”; after birth spirit exists by relying on the body. The body is spirit’s dwelling; spirit is the master of the body.

From the perspective of the prenatal state, spirit is simply a thread of the ceaselessly generating Li-Qi (the fundamental qi by which heaven and earth give rise to the myriad things). When a person receives this Li-Qi and a fetus forms, that is receiving Heaven’s mandate and taking it as one’s nature (xing). Nature is rooted in empty stillness, yet can engender wondrous actuality; it resides within the person and governs the interior, so that the transformations of life run their course and the form is kept whole. Speaking from the side of empty silence, it is called “nature”; speaking from the side of numinous manifestation, it is called “spirit.” Human beings are more spiritually endowed than the myriad things precisely because they have spirit.

In the prenatal condition, spirit rests undifferentiated in the Great Void (taixu)—the vast, empty realm—without form, color, body, or use; its subtlety cannot be seen. When it attaches to the body, empty stillness and wondrous being become mutual substance and function: form and emptiness interpenetrate, emptiness and form interpenetrate. Though its substance cannot be seen, its operation appears in the world. Thus “spirit relies on form to arise” means spirit shows its efficacy only by depending on the body; before birth one is purely empty, and the name “spirit” does not yet exist.

Essence is originally what forms when spirit and qi subtly unite and condense. In the body of a child there is only primordial qi (yuanqi—the innate root qi), not yet the essence produced by male–female union. As desire and conscious activity gradually open, spirit tends outward and qi is stirred, and only then does union essence arise. Buddhism says, “A bit of yang essence is hidden in the form mountain,” and that it is not in the heart or kidneys but in the “Xuanguan yiqiao” (the single crucial pass spoken of in practice). The text also cites Buddhist words: “I have one treasure, hidden in the form mountain.” Daoism says: “The prenatal bit of yang essence is not in heart or kidneys, but in the Xuanguan yiqiao.”

“Xuanguan” here refers to the moment when “Earth Thunder” returns—that is, when yin reaches its limit and yang begins to revive and yang qi starts to rise again. At that time spirit and qi unite and condense into what practice calls the “upper medicine” (the precious refined essence–qi–spirit in cultivation).

In the Yuan Pass—the single aperture where, in cultivation, prenatal true qi and spirit are said to meet—lies the primordial chaos ultimate essence, namely prenatal yang qi. It congeals together with the spirit in the heart and is nurtured there. “Xuanguan” (the Pass) here means the moment when yang qi revives and spirit and qi unite to become the upper medicine.

Whether yang essence is full or depleted depends fundamentally on whether primordial qi (yuanqi) is abundant; whether yuanqi circulates or stops depends in turn on the movement or stillness of the primordial spirit (yuanshen). Yuanshen dwells in the physical form; yuanqi clings to yuanshen, and true essence (jing) accompanies them. Spirit can rely on the body to show clarity because qi animates the form. Even postnatal emotions and conscious thoughts are conveyed by the qi in emptiness. Yuanqi and yuanshen respond to each other like matching tally halves; they share one source and differ only in name, so both are called “xuan” (the mysterious).

Yuanshen neither arises nor perishes; yuanqi neither arises nor perishes. When the body decays, spirit returns to empty void and qi returns to great void. At the beginning of human life, nature (xing) and life (ming) are one: spirit lodges in qi, qi moves within spirit, and originally there is no rank between them. After the postnatal body matures, spirit and qi separate.

When the practitioner first cultivates, they must reach extreme emptiness and stillness so that something is generated from nothing, thereby restoring prenatal spirit and qi and seeking the primordial chaos ultimate essence. The scripture uses sexual union as a metaphor for how, in practice, spirit and qi mutually resonate and draw upon the generating qi of the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). Spirit and qi originally have no birth or death; when they unite they become yang spirit and can endure with empty space; when they separate each returns to emptiness. Only when attached to the body are they called yuanshen and yuanqi.

Tracing them to their root, they originally do not decay, like pine and cypress staying green year round. If one can nourish yuanshen, preserve yuanqi, and hold fast to true jing, the body may flourish like pine and cypress and life may be extended.

“Wonderous perfection of form and spirit, united with the Dao in truth”—that is the state this passage describes.

From “each person has Jing (essence)” through to here forms one chapter. Its main theme is this: if one nurtures Shen (spirit), preserves primordial Qi (vital energy), and guards Jing, the body can flourish and endure like pine and cypress, thereby extending life. That is what is meant by “wondrous perfection of form and spirit, united with the Dao in truth.”

This chapter surveys how the three great medicines of cultivation—Jing, Qi, and Shen—relate to the human body, and touches on converging the three into one and the essential aim of the Yang Shen’s transcendence. “Shen depends on form to live,” so Shen can animate the physical body; “Jing is filled by Qi,” so Qi joins with the body and draws it toward true transformation. From this it follows that the Dharma Body (fashen) gained in practice is not the ordinary fleshly body, yet cultivating the Dharma Body cannot be separated from the fleshly body. Yin Shen and the ghost immortal (guixian) are hard to sustain for long; the path of Daoist cultivation and Chan meditation must begin from the physical body—this is precisely the reason. The subtle principle involved is easy for the clear-minded to grasp and hard for the dull-minded to put into practice.

The three kinds of body (san se shen) in cultivation illustrate the same principle; Yin Shen and the ghost immortal therefore cannot endure, and the way of cultivation and Chan must start from the physical body. The subtle meaning is the same: those who understand find it easy to realize; those who are obscured find it hard to carry out.

The logic of the three grades—Jing, Qi, and Shen—is one continuous thread, subtle and beyond easy speech. When they gather, presence appears; when they disperse, they return to emptiness and nullity.

This means harmonizing the three grades—Shen (spirit), Qi (vital energy), and Jing (essence)—and condensing them into the elixir. “Three grades, one principle” means that primordial spirit, primordial Qi, and primordial essence merge into one body and return to the original state of primordial Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). In stillness it appears as empty void; in movement it shows marvelous existence—“marvelous existence” is the principle and Qi contained within Taiji. Principle and Qi transform without limit and give birth to the ten thousand things, hence it is called “marvelous existence.”

The principle and Qi within Taiji manifest respectively as the three grades—primordial spirit, primordial Qi, and primordial essence; united, they remain the root Dao that generates the ten thousand things. What cultivation practices is this; what attainment obtains is also this. The three grades alike emerge from the emptiness of Taiji; in the pre-heaven state they were originally one Qi (undifferentiated source-energy).

If the cultivator takes spirit as primary, spirit and Qi refine and nourish primordial spirit so it returns to the source; if Qi is primary, spirit and essence refine primordial Qi; if essence is primary, spirit and Qi refine primordial essence. “The three origins blended,” “the three houses meet,” “the three essences unite as Qi,” “gathering the three natures in the Yuan Palace,” “flying the three elixirs to the Purple Court”—all refer to this. Yuan Palace and Purple Court are both names in Daoist inner refinement for loci of practice within the body; the subtlety of these expressions is hard to convey in words.

The ancients called it the “Way of Three-in-One”: when the three unite they return to the one; only by forgetting the distinction among the three does one realize the “one.” Laozi said: “Obtain the one, and the myriad affairs are complete.” Spirit, Qi, and essence—these three superior medicines—in the end come down to this “one.”

So-called fire-phase work also follows natural law, without forced contrivance. Through the ages it has been passed mouth-to-ear and heart-to-heart. The reason no fixed doctrine is set down is that the reasoning within truly cannot be spoken. Buddhism speaks of teaching the Dharma, yet there is no fixed Dharma to teach; Confucianism says “nature and the Way of Heaven cannot be heard.” Dao is only a name provisionally applied—it generates the myriad from formlessness and tracelessness. The three grades return to emptiness; only then does one obtain the “one”; having the “one,” the three grades are contained within it.

To clarify it in writing, ten thousand words would not exhaust it. Sages of the three teachings use only the character “marvelous” (miao) to point to it, because its marvel truly cannot be fully expressed in language.

Some editions read “yan” (speech) where others read “ting” (listening); here we follow the alternate version and use “yan.”

When the three grades—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—return to a single whole, they refine into the Yang Elixir, also called the Spirit Elixir or Yang Spirit. The Yang Spirit is the innate, supremely yang substance itself; it never perishes. Even if heaven and earth were destroyed, it would not be destroyed. The Buddhist saying that what has form will eventually decay, while what is formless alone is real, expresses this very point.

The Yang Spirit can move in and out of heaven and earth at will: when it gathers, it takes on a visible body; when it disperses, it becomes qi. In stillness, without stirring, it remains the formless void; when it responds and acts, it appears as a real body. This is the marvelous function that appears when Jing, Qi, and Shen are united as one. If the three grades scatter and are lost, one sinks into depths that cannot be fathomed, never to be seen again in this life, and in the end one turns in the cycle of birth and death, while the body declines accordingly.

The seven apertures connect with one another; light shines everywhere. The Sacred Sun and Sacred Moon illuminate the Golden Court (Jin Ting)—the sacred realm symbolized in internal cultivation.

This passage describes the scene when inner alchemy (Neidan) cultivation reaches completion of the Great Elixir: golden light fills the entire body; when one aperture opens fully, the other apertures open with it. After the practitioner completes the great circulation cycle, yin demons within the body are fully dispelled and transform into the Yang spirit (Yang shen). When the golden light at the crown of the head grows as large as a wheel, it is time for the Yang spirit to leave the body.

The eyes, ears, mouth, nose, and other apertures are the channels through which the Yang spirit enters and exits. At this stage all seven apertures are bright and open, connecting with the Great Void (Tai xu)—the boundless empty expanse. Such change arises because the “sacred sun and sacred moon” illuminate the Golden Court (Jin ting). The Golden Court is the Huangting (the central inner-alchemy region of the body); Huangting belongs to Earth, and Earth generates Metal. The body has now returned to pure Yang; the Huangting is filled with the breath of qian Metal (Metal in its yang aspect), hence the name Golden Court.

“Sacred sun and sacred moon” refer to the true light of Kan and Li: the sacred sun stands for the primordial spirit (Yuan shen), the sacred moon for primordial Qi (Yuan qi). When primordial spirit and primordial Qi unite, they form the spirit elixir; its light fills the Huangting. Spirit belongs to Fire, Qi to Metal; fire-light and metal-brightness reflect each other, and the Gate of the Mysterious Female (Xuan pin zhi men)—the key portal where yin and yang give birth in inner practice—lies within this. The Golden Court governs the seven apertures; the spirit of the Huangting in turn governs the spirits within the body. Once the Huangting is full of Metal qi, the various spirits in the body all turn from yin to yang—showing how deep the work of the Yang elixir runs.

“Once obtained, forever obtained; the body naturally grows light. Supreme harmony (Tai he) overflows; the joints feel cool as jade”—this speaks of the wonders after receiving the elixir: what is gained is kept for good; the body becomes naturally light and agile; supreme harmony—the full, even vital breath—fills the whole form, and the bone joints feel cool and clear as jade. The elixir is the sacred sun and sacred moon merged into one.

This passage explains the subtle meaning of “attaining the elixir” (de dan). “Elixir” (dan) is the union of the sacred sun and the sacred moon. In ancient script, the character for “elixir” combines “sun” and “moon,” in the same vein as characters such as “change” (yi) and “brightness” (ming). Though this elixir is hard to obtain, once obtained it can be held forever without loss, so that true spirit connects with Heaven and Earth.

Hence the Xici (Appended Words) of the Yijing (Book of Changes) says: “The great person aligns their virtue with Heaven and Earth, their clarity with sun and moon, and joins with spirits and ghosts in responding to fortune and misfortune. Acting before the season, Heaven does not oppose; acting after the season, they follow the season.” Here “elixir” is sun and moon united—that is, “the alternation of Yin and Yang is called the Dao.”

When Yin and Yang merge into one, that is pre-heaven Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the root state before Heaven and Earth arise; meanings such as “true emptiness, wondrous being” (zhenkong miaoyou) are all contained in it. Taiji is the root from which Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things are generated. If one further extends its realm of emptiness, one can reach Wuji (the Limitless). Even when Heaven and Earth are destroyed, this transcendent existence can survive beyond the cycles of kalpa (jieyun—the periods of cosmic destruction and renewal) unaffected. Therefore the Supreme One (Taishang), the honorific for the highest deity in Daoism, still exists after seven rounds of primordial chaos. To call this “forever obtained” is indeed fitting.

“Great Harmony” (Taihe) refers to primordial qi (yuanqi—the original refined breath before Heaven and Earth and the ten thousand things).

“Taihe” refers to primordial qi (yuanqi). The Book of Changes says: “Preserve and harmonize Taihe, and each person’s nature and life attain their proper place.” That means: hold fast to and harmonize the Taihe qi, and nature (xing) and life (ming) will each be rectified.

This passage says that after the elixir is refined, the whole body becomes purely yang. Taihe qi fills the body from within outward, as if seeping through the pores and finest openings, and the vision of “golden light enveloping the body” appears. What the Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) means by “lately golden light has shown all over my body—I do not discuss this rule with others”—that is exactly this stage.

In this Neidan (internal alchemy) reading, once one obtains Taihe yuanqi, the turbid yin in sinews, bones, and blood gradually withdraws: white bone turns greenish, blue-green vessels turn red, and red blood becomes white cream. This is taken as a sign of yin-cold turning into yang-strength. The Huangting jing (Yellow Court Scripture) says “bones white, vessels green, marrow like frost”—the same idea. The first two lines mean that once the yang elixir enters the mouth, yin evil naturally disperses. “Taihe” here is what Mencius called the “flood-like qi” (haoran zhi qi).

“Obtain the elixir and you become numinous; fail to obtain it and you decline” means: with the elixir, body and mind are clear and bright; without it, one tends toward decay. The elixir in the body is neither white nor green.

Previously the text spoke of “obtain once, obtain forever,” yet here it also says that in cultivation one may succeed or may fail—meant to warn practitioners to handle the firing process (huohou) with care. After the elixir has formed (jiedan) in Neidan practice, one must still apply the work of “sealing and consolidating” (fenggu) and “nurturing and warming” (wenyang); if one does not guard against deviation or act with caution, the elixir may disperse or leak away.

In former times, Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) three times failed to complete the return of the elixir; only after reading Master Cui’s Ruyao jing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine) did he grasp the subtle points of the firing process and finally transcend. When Patriarch Bai (Bai Yuchan) returned the elixir, he did not handle the firing process carefully, which led to the mishap known as “midnight wind and thunder”; Zhang Ziyang was then at Tiantai and sent someone to deliver his Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir (Jindan sibai zi), after which Patriarch Bai succeeded on a renewed attempt. These cases show that though the elixir has already been generated, an error in the firing process may lightly mean loss of the elixir or, in the worst case, endanger life itself. Hence alchemical texts say: “The treasure of life must not be lightly played with.” Yet if one truly obtains the elixir, one can shed the old body and renew oneself and suddenly become spiritually awakened. Chen Nianwan said: “In a moment’s work, one enjoys endless ease and joy forever.”

After obtaining the elixir, the saying “the elixir is within the body—neither white nor green” means the elixir is not white and not green. White stands for Metal (jin) and green for Wood (mu). The elixir arises from the union of Metal and Wood, harmonized through the Five Phases (Wuxing), the Four Emblems (Sixiang), the Three Schools (Sanjia), and the Two Modes (Liangyi); it has no form, no color, no sound, and no odor, and cannot be described by any fixed hue. This is lest cultivators mistake the elixir for a visible physical object—one must not seek the elixir by clinging to appearances. The point aligns with the Diamond Sutra (Jingang jing): “Whoever seeks me by form or seeks me by sound walks a deviant path and cannot see the Tathagata.”

Recite it again and again ten thousand times, and the subtle principle will naturally become clear.

The final two lines summarize the meaning of the entire scripture: the teaching of this classic is profound and its wording subtle; one must ponder it carefully to grasp what lies beyond the words. A cursory reading will not reveal its rationale, which is why “recite and uphold it ten thousand times, and its principle will clarify itself” is offered as a simile. The original spirit (yuanshen — one’s innate luminous mind-nature) is originally perfectly clear; only because desire for worldly things obscures it does one lose right awakening. If one concentrates the mind, reflects deeply, and responds to truth with utmost sincerity, truth will naturally become manifest. This is precisely what Buddhist and Daoist scriptures mean when they enjoin recitation and steadfast practice. Yet people fail to understand this and treat the text itself as the Dao — which is truly laughable.

This chapter summarizes the whole scripture and discusses in detail the principles of obtaining the elixir (dedan); the meaning is already plain. Though this classic has only three hundred characters, it contains within it all the labor and fire phases (huohou — the timing and degree of practice in cultivation); it is more explicit than such classics as the Yinfu Jing and the Qingjing Jing, and may indeed be called the “supreme seal of the mind” (wushang yinxin — the highest gate that directly points to the heart and seals mind with mind). The scripture is divided into four chapters: the first treats the medicinals and the method; the second treats the work of cultivation and fire phases; the third treats the marvelous efficacy of the three grades; the fourth treats the three natures returning to one. The subtleties of obtaining the elixir and projecting the spirit (chushen) are fully set forth, with nothing withheld. If one thinks carefully and reads again and again, practice will not be hard.

Twelfth Lecture: Heaven’s Theft, Human Theft, and the Mechanisms of Life and Death

Dao abides in nature; only one who can still the mind can apprehend it.

The Yinfu Jing (Hidden Talisman Classic), attributed to the Yellow Emperor, drew early commentaries from figures such as Taigong and Zhang Liang—five such traditions in all—followed later by Li Quan, Zhang Guo, and still later by Lu Qianxu, Li Hanxu, and Liu Wuyuan; in modern times Yang Renshan also annotated it. Each of these commentaries has its own strengths. Annotations by Confucian scholars such as Wang Bi and Guo Xiang, by contrast, diverge widely from the original intent.

The Yinfu Jing is vast and profound. Cultivating the person, ordering the household, governing the state, and deploying troops all take their guiding ideas from it; Fengjiao (divination by observing wind direction for omens) and Qimen (Qimen Dunjia, a method of ritual numerology) likewise honor its principles. All affairs arise from pivotal changes in things; fortune and misfortune, regret, and fault all spring from action. The Yinfu Jing expounds the patterns of generation and destruction; the crux lies in things turning back on themselves and inverting—within that, the principle is exceedingly subtle.

The Daozang (the collected scriptures of Daoism) also contains the Yinfu Tianji Jing and the Yinfu Dunjia Jing; some call these the “outer chapters” of the Yinfu. On examining their meaning, they do not seem to be ancient works and may be Song-dynasty forgeries. Here the commentary follows the commonly circulated “inner chapter” of the Yinfu, in plain explanation.

The core teaching of the Yin Fu Jing is captured in a single word: ji (the subtle mechanism or right moment). Cultivation, gathering the medicine, and forming the elixir all depend on huohou (critical timing in practice) and seizing the right moment—so what must be examined most carefully is precisely this ji. Every change in the myriad things between heaven and earth has its turning point; to become a sage or an immortal, one must above all know how to grasp the moment.

Why speak of “Yin Fu” (the Hidden Talisman) rather than “yang fire”? “Dao” is the Dao of heaven. Yin means hidden and invisible; fu means correspondence and alignment. “Yin Fu” means that though the Dao of heaven is hidden and formless, it matches the movement and change of the ten thousand things. You cannot see or hear the Dao of heaven, yet by observing the process of generation and transformation throughout heaven and earth, you can apprehend it. Those who cultivate follow these changes in their inquiry and thereby come to understand the Dao of heaven.

Human life in the world entails birth and death, success and decline. In the Dao of heaven, only after winter’s Bo (the I Ching hexagram symbolizing the waning of yang) does spring’s Fu (symbolizing yang’s return) arrive; without stripping away, there is no renewal. Where there is yin, there is yang. Even evergreen pines and cypresses that do not wither in winter still put forth new leaves in spring, rising and falling with the qi dynamics—the motive force of change throughout heaven and earth.

What “Yin Fu” denotes is the mutual fit between the hidden Dao of heaven and manifest yang vitality. All formed things accord with formless principle; by observing what has form, one can grasp what is formless, and from one instance infer the rest. What follows is a line-by-line explanation of the Yin Fu Jing:

“Observe the Dao of heaven, hold fast to heaven’s way of acting—all is complete”: Observe the patterns of the Dao of heaven and act in accord with how heaven’s way moves, and the teaching is fully contained therein.

These three sentences summarize the essential meaning of the entire scripture and explain what “Yin Talisman” signifies. Heaven belongs to yang and earth to yin. The Way of Heaven initiates the myriad things, yet remains subtle and hard to discern; the Way of Earth receives the Way of Heaven and nurtures the myriad things, and thus can be seen. Qian stands for the Way of Heaven, moving with firm vigor; Kun follows the Way of Heaven and bears the myriad things. The transformations of all things in the cosmos originate in the Way of Heaven and manifest upon the great earth. The Way of Earth and the Way of Heaven fit together like matching halves of a tally, hence the name “Yin Talisman.”

Heaven does not speak, yet the four seasons run in order and the myriad things grow accordingly; cold and heat alternate, and from ancient times to the present order has never failed—this is the Way of Heaven in operation. “Operation” refers to the working of the Way of Heaven: invisibly it governs the changes of the myriad things, causing life to grow and multiply without cease, forming a world of form. Though the Way of Heaven cannot be seen, one can observe and grasp it from its operation, and thereby understand that the Way of Heaven is the principle of yin and yang shifting and interacting—and from this probe the origin of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). This is the meaning of “one yin and one yang—that is called the Dao.”

Yang is formless, yin has form; what has form arises from what is formless, yet is governed by the formless, borne and carried by the form—all ultimately within the nurturing of that single point of principle and Qi (fundamental principle and vital energy) at Taiji. Observing the patterns of flourishing and decline, fullness and loss, waxing and waning, one knows: the Dao is originally empty, yet can appear as the wondrous and real myriad things; the myriad things divide from “the One,” change with marvelous subtlety, and nothing stays unchanged forever. All things eventually decay, like leaves falling and returning to the root; tracing from beginning to end, one can infer death from life; examining past changes, one can infer the future, and by observing the signs things display, one can awaken to the great Dao.

The myriad things divide from the root into countless distinctions, yet in the end return to the root. From change one investigates creation; from operation one grasps its principle—and one understands that Heaven and humanity follow the same principle. This is what is meant by “it is complete.” This connects with “investigating things to the limit and fully knowing one’s nature,” “investigating things to gain knowledge,” and what the Doctrine of the Mean says about fulfilling human nature and thereby taking part in the nurturing work of Heaven and earth—the same thread runs through them all.

Li’s commentary reads these two lines as embodying the principles of Qian and Kun, and that reading is sound. “Contemplating the Way of Heaven” points to Qian and Heaven; “holding fast to Heaven’s operations” points to Kun and Earth. The birth and death of everything in the cosmos is displayed in the earth; the fullness and emptiness, rise and fall, and growth of the myriad things all emerge from the ground. The Way of Heaven is hard to know directly, but the Way of Earth can be observed. Earth rests on Heaven and takes Heaven’s power to carry out creation and transformation.

“Qian’s origination provides the beginning” means that Heaven-as-Qian starts the myriad things. Here “beginning” means the stage of Great Beginning (Taishi). In ancient accounts of how the cosmos formed, before the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) came stages such as Great Simplicity (Taiyi), Great Purity (Taisu), Great Inception (Taichu), Great Beginning (Taishi), and the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji). At Great Beginning there was already a root, but nothing could yet be seen. “Qian’s origination provides the beginning” is the creative work of Qian-Heaven, symbolized by pure yang Metal qi; things start from this, and that start is still without form. “Kun’s origination provides generation” means that Earth-as-Kun brings the myriad things into being, symbolized by Kun’s Earth qi; things thereby gain bodies, so “generation” means they have already taken shape.

The Classic of Changes, Qian hexagram, says: “Qian: origination, penetration, benefit, and firmness.” Origination is the start of the good; penetration is the gathering and flowing of what is good and beautiful; benefit is what accords with righteousness and mutual adjustment; firmness is what establishes and completes things. These four are the four virtues of Qian’s origination. Qian’s virtue is vast and without fixed form; it must be received and carried out by Kun’s origination before it can show up in concrete things. So “contemplating the Way of Heaven” must be realized in “holding fast to Heaven’s operations”—that is, knowing Qian’s origination through the movement of Kun’s origination.

One Qian and one Kun are one yang and one yin. As yang grows and yin withdraws, and yin withdraws and yang advances, one can infer the Way of Heaven, which cannot be heard or seen, from how yin and yang wax and wane in the earth’s course. In that way the inner meaning of the Way of Heaven can also be grasped. These two sentences are the backbone of the whole classic; what follows will explain further the patterns of mutual generation and mutual overcoming, how things begin and how they are generated, and will treat each topic in turn.

Heaven has five thieves; whoever can see through them will flourish.

This line follows the previous discussion: all things arise and change through heaven and earth, and heaven and the human being follow one and the same pattern of principle. Taigong and Zhang Guo interpreted the “five thieves” as the trends of the times, events, and stratagems; others took them to be five forces that drain one’s life, material goods, timing, achievement, and spirit. Yang Renshan read the five thieves as the five sense objects in Buddhism—form, sound, scent, taste, and touch. None of these readings really fits the passage.

Here, “five thieves” means, from the perspective of heaven-and-earth qi transformation, the qi of the Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth; from the perspective of human mind-nature, the five skandhas (the five factors that make up body-mind experience in Buddhism)—form, feeling, perception, volitional formations, and consciousness. The Five Phases dissipate the qi of heaven and earth; the five skandhas obscure one’s original nature. Later lines such as “fire is born from wood” and “the human heart is the mechanism” support this reading.

Heaven and earth generate the ten thousand things. At first there is empty stillness and nothing at all—this is called Wuji (the Limitless). Then Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) is established: Taiji is a single mass of undifferentiated primordial qi, in which emptiness and subtle being interpenetrate without obstruction. At this stage there are not yet names for Yin-Yang or the Five Phases, nor phenomena of birth and death, waxing and waning. Movement and stillness appear next, and Yin-Yang are distinguished; Yin and Yang interact and produce the four images, which together with the void at the center compose the Five Phases. In truth, all five phases are transformations of a single point of li-principle and qi within Taiji.

Once li-qi divides into the Five Phases, there is flourishing and decline, fullness and loss; when the Five Phases return to unity, they are not destroyed. Taiji is the fundamental master of cosmic generation and change. Great earth, mountains and rivers, birds and fish, plants and insects, and every kind of life—whether womb-born, egg-born, moisture-born, or transformation-born—as well as sentient beings with thought, without thought, and neither with nor without thought, all arise by receiving the li-qi of Taiji.

When a person is first conceived, they receive only a trace of formless primordial Qi. Once the fetus takes shape, that single Qi gives rise to the Five Phases—the five basic elements that make up all things. The “One” was originally empty; when emptiness fills out, the body forms, and the Five Phases are complete. With the Five Phases in place, birth and death arise, and the five states of birth, aging, sickness, suffering, and death follow one after another. Only empty space does not perish; once the void becomes something real, Qi gathers into a body and the Five Phases are present, decay is inevitable—that much is certain.

Each of us is a small cosmos. At first we receive only one Qi, undifferentiated and without awareness or consciousness. Heaven bestows this and calls it Xing (nature); the person receives it and calls it Ming (life). Nature is originally empty and still, neither born nor destroyed. After the shift from prenatal to postnatal life, that one Qi becomes the Five Phases, nature turns into emotion, and the Qi of the Five Phases becomes the five: Jing (essence), Shen (spirit), Hun (soul), Po (corporeal soul), and Yi (intent). They correspond to the inside and outside of the body and are linked to one another: when the body perishes, they perish too. Sometimes the body has not yet died while these five are already failing; they drain the Ming granted by Heaven so that one cannot return the life received from Heaven whole. When the body dies, the five die with it, and they can even harm the body. If that is not theft, what is? These are the “five thieves” within the body—the five kinds of loss that act on a person from within and without.

Form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness—these five skandhas are treated here as five “thieves” within the postnatal mind-and-heart. “Form” refers to the body and outward appearance: the eyes see things and the mind retains an imprint. “Feeling” is sensation—what touches the heart and is remembered. “Perception” is thinking, including thoughts about past and future. “Volition” is conduct—the actions one takes in response to things. There is first perception and feeling toward outer objects, then thoughts arise, and finally actions take shape; the order is roughly like this. “Consciousness” is the discursive spirit (shíshén)—awareness that never rests, chasing one thought after another. The text cites the Classic of Changes, Hexagram Xián (Influence): “Coming and going in restless agitation, companions follow your thoughts”—a picture of thoughts shuttling back and forth, constantly pulling the mind into further deliberation.

The scripture holds that when innate nature is disturbed by these five skandhas, good and evil are distinguished, and one is thereby caught in birth and death. When the mind is empty and clear and original simplicity is preserved, there is originally nothing to call birth or extinction; the clear, void, and luminous root is not lost. But the five skandhas drain innate nature: one may fail to live out a full lifespan, meet illness and early death, and grow dim to the subtle brilliance inherent in mind-and-heart, until the heart becomes dark, turbid, indulgent, and restless. Innate nature is originally empty and still, yet the five skandhas fill it; originally luminous, yet the five skandhas veil it. In time, innate nature seems to lose its function, while the discursive spirit comes to rule the mind.

Once one sinks into the five skandhas, one forgets the original face and commits all kinds of evil karma, planting long-lasting roots of calamity. Beings’ evil karma, through many aeons, cannot be wiped away; they therefore bob and sink in birth and death, drowning in the six paths of rebirth, unable to escape for long. The text says that worldly karma is hard to fathom; tracing the root of disaster, it is truly that the five skandhas obscure innate nature and harm the original spirit (yuánshén), turning the clear, pure, and roundly luminous heart into a heart of craft, deceit, impulsiveness, and indulgence—hence such a plight, which is lamentable. Since these five harm the inner mind-and-heart, calling them “thieves” is apt.

Thus, from the angle of qi transformation, the five thieves are the Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth; from the angle of changes in spirit and mind, the five thieves are the five skandhas—form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness.

The “five thieves” both external and internal can harm body and mind. If one can recognize them as thieves and cast them out, one will not be harmed by them, and body and mind can be preserved. This is not something only sages can do.

Ordinary people often mistake thieves for their own children and instead treat the five thieves as benefactors that keep them alive—drawing close to them and cherishing them—because they have not seen their true nature. If one can penetrate the five thieves, keep body and mind from restless movement, and return to “great emptiness” (the state of quiet clarity and still void), one can reverse the usual course of natural process to subdue them: water restrains fire, fire restrains earth, earth restrains wood, wood restrains metal, layer upon layer of mutual overcoming, until all finally return to emptiness. Thus one does not follow the ordinary order of generation and transformation, and avoids falling into the cycle of birth and death. From this, turning back deluded thoughts and restoring the constant Dao, restraining stray thoughts and completing sage virtue, attaining long life and clear sight and refining oneself toward immortality, is not difficult. Hence it is said: “Those who see them will flourish.” “Seeing” here means probing the root of yin and yang, understanding the principle of true emptiness, knowing one’s original face before one’s parents gave birth, and thereby guarding the inborn nature and life, making them full and bringing them to light. Only sages, and those who later learn from sages, can do this.

The five thieves dwell within the human person, yet they operate according to the way of heaven.

Where do the five thieves ultimately reside? One may say: they are hidden in the human heart, yet they operate according to the patterns of Heaven and Earth.

Form, sensation, perception, volition, and consciousness together are called the “five yin” or the five skandhas; they originally arise from emptiness. Metal, wood, water, fire, and earth together are called the Five Phases (Wuxing); they originally take shape from primordial Qi (yuanqi, the original vital breath).

When a person first receives life from Heaven, they are inherently complete, luminous, pure, and unstained, free of worldly dust. Later, qi condenses into form; when the fetus matures and primordial qi is full, that single qi divides into five qi. Within the spirit chamber (shenshi—the inner dwelling where spirit-qi is stored) lies the intermediate yin (zhongyin); the body embodies the Five Phases, and the heart holds the five skandhas.

Once the Five Phases are formed, birth and death appear; once the five skandhas are formed, the wheel of rebirth turns. This is the law by which Heaven and Earth generate the myriad things—concealed within body and mind, and not something one can wholly escape.

To break free, the crux is “seeing”: discern clearly how the five thieves work, guard the originally empty and pure nature, and meet them with methods of restraint—then they will not bind you. The five thieves in body and mind also follow Heaven and Earth’s natural rhythm of waxing and waning: from one comes two, from two comes three, and from there the Five Phases are born—all natural mandates of Heaven, the same for everyone, sage and ordinary person alike. Only those who can restrain the five thieves become sages. This passage shows that the root of the five thieves comes from Heaven, not from human artifice; what follows will explain in turn the effects of subduing them.

The transformations of the cosmos seem to rest in the palm of one’s hand; the birth of the myriad things seems to spring from oneself.

The four directions above and below are called “Yu” (space); from antiquity to the present is called “Zhou” (time). The saying “the universe is in my hand, and the myriad changes of things arise from within my body” can be achieved only by one who truly sees through the “Five Thieves” (the five factors that affect body and mind and draw one away from one’s true nature). Why? One who knows how to recognize these five can grasp the principle of creation and transformation: the myriad things of the universe all arise from one Qi (the fundamental vital energy that constitutes all things). Understanding this, one can return to root and source, revert to the origin, and ultimately reach a state of empty stillness—becoming a “Great Person” who masters the principle of the Yuan Shen (Original Spirit) and creation, as if the changes of the universe could all be grasped within oneself.

The Commentary on the Judgment of the Qian Hexagram in the Book of Changes says: “The Great Person accords with the virtue of Heaven and Earth, with the brightness of sun and moon, with the order of the four seasons, and with the auspicious and inauspicious ruled by ghosts and spirits. Acting before Heaven’s timing, Heaven does not oppose him; following Heaven’s timing afterward, he acts in accord with it.”

The Doctrine of the Mean says: “Only the most sincere person under Heaven can fully realize his own nature; realizing his own nature, he can understand and complete the nature of others; completing the nature of others, he can complete the nature of things; completing the nature of things, he can assist Heaven and Earth in nurturing the myriad things; assisting Heaven and Earth in nurturing the myriad things, he can stand as the third alongside Heaven and Earth.”

This is the explanation of “the universe in the hand, the myriad born from the body.” Human body and mind originally form a Taiji (the unified whole of yin and yang), sharing one principle with Heaven and Earth. Through cultivation one can reverse the acquired condition, return to the source, and pursue inquiry to the utmost—then transcend the ordinary and enter sagehood, stand level with Heaven and Earth, and become one of the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity). Grasping yin and yang, silently contemplating the great transformation of the universe, the sage’s virtue naturally matches Heaven and Earth—beyond ordinary reckoning.

“Hand” also symbolizes where one gathers and holds. Yan Hui received one good thought and kept it firmly in mind; Confucius said that governing the world is as clear as looking at the palm.

Confucius said that governing the world is as clear as looking at the palm of one’s hand—a line also found in the Zhongyong (Doctrine of the Mean). In hexagram terms this belongs to Gen (Mountain, one of the eight trigrams, symbolizing mountain and stopping), with the sense of restraining anger and curbing desire. Gen corresponds to the youngest son and also to the hand; the hand has the alternation of extending and bending. Zengzi said: “How solemn is the place pointed to by ten fingers!”—this too appears in the Zhongyong. Daoist alchemical texts say: “With both hands split open Hongmeng (the undifferentiated chaos before heaven and earth were separated).” There is also the saying “the left hand subdues the dragon, the right hand tames the tiger.”

The hand is closely tied to the activities of body and mind. When true yang (yang qi within the human body) first stirs, it shows itself on the hands first. Hence the line on the first six of the Xian (Influence) hexagram—“xian qi mu” (influence at the big toe)—means that influence begins from the extremities of the body. When joy, anger, sorrow, and delight rise in the heart, the hands follow in dance and pointing, even trembling. The heart of the chizi (infant) stays pure and unchanged, and the infant’s hands are always closed in a fist. The Laozi says: “The infant’s sinews and bones are soft, yet the fist is tightly closed.” Mencius says: “The true adult is one who does not lose the heart of the chizi.” (See Li Lou II.)

While the fetus is in the womb, both hands are always closed, as if guarding the gate of creation; when movement begins, the two hands part, and before long birth follows. If one can carefully keep the heart before it is disturbed and firmly hold it, one can move from sincerity to clarity, from persistence to visible effect. In a Buddhist text someone asks: Can the void of east, west, south, north, above, below, and the center be measured and thought through? The answer is: No. Between the two hands there is also a patch of void, vast without boundary. From ancient times to the present, people live within the void; the flexing and extending of the two hands also unfold within that void.

“The great Dao is clearly before the eyes”: what is before the eyes is precisely this immeasurable void. If one can make the heart empty and still and expand the measure of the heart until it merges with the great void (boundless space), then the transforming nurture of all things between heaven and earth is like one’s own transforming nurture; the space between the two hands seems to embrace the great void between heaven and earth. Therefore it is said:

If a person can empty the heart and hold nothing fixed, opening the chest fully until it merges with the boundless great void (vast emptiness), then the work by which heaven and earth generate the myriad things seems to become one’s own work; the space between one’s two hands seems to hold all the great void between heaven and earth. Hence it is said that “the cosmos is in the hand”—also called the “gate of total retention” (zongchi men: the path that gathers and holds all methods), “guarding the center and embracing unity” (shouzhong baoyi: staying in the middle and not scattering), or “pointing at the palm” (matters as clear as what lies in the palm).

The human body is like a small heaven-and-earth: heaven has sun and moon, the person has ears and eyes; earth has water and fire, the person has spirit (Shen) and vital energy (Qi). The changes of heaven and earth take shape through the running of cold and heat, with the hinge at the winter and summer solstices; the human body likewise follows the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang in birth, death, and gestation, with the hinge corresponding to Fu and Gou (hexagrams in the Yijing that symbolize the alternation of Yin and Yang). Look more closely: the seventy-two pentads, the twenty-four solar terms, day and night, phases of the moon, and the cycles of the hours such as zi, wu, mao, and you—the body has corresponding mechanisms for all of these. The subtlety with which the body responds to change, and the way Qi shifts and moves, are at once empty-quiet and keenly responsive. Thus, though heaven and earth display ten thousand transformations, the inner person seems to contain a counterpart to each; when Mencius said that “the myriad things are complete within me,” he spoke with good reason.

The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) act upon one Qi (the fundamental breath from which the myriad things are formed), making it produce endless differences. What carries out this creation is of course the Dao of heaven and earth; yet the human heart answers to it, and body and hands feel its pattern, so whether in movement or stillness one can fit the moment. How profound!

Human nature is the person; the human heart is the pivot that sets change in motion.

Human beings receive the nature Heaven bestows upon them. At first this nature is nothing but pure, undivided Li-Qi (the qi that constitutes all things and embodies heavenly principle). People are born by inheriting Li-Qi and become human because they possess this heavenly nature; that nature dwells in the human heart-mind. Later, heavenly nature turns into emotion; stirred by external circumstances, it becomes what is called the “human mind” (renxin). Thus what Heaven gives is called xing (nature); what rises when one meets circumstances is called xin (mind-heart). When heavenly nature is active, it is called Yuanshen (Original Spirit—the spirit as it is in itself); when the human mind is active, it is called Shishen (Discriminating Spirit—the spirit formed through emotional and discriminating activity).

Heavenly nature is empty, subtle, and without fixed form. When one receives Li-Qi and comes to life, within that emptiness and subtlety there is a marvelous reality, and that marvelous reality never departs from emptiness and subtlety. Though empty, it is not utterly nothing; though possessing being, that being truly interpenetrates with emptiness. That human beings differ from birds and beasts lies precisely here. Mencius, “Li Lou” (Book 4, Part B) says: “The distance between human beings and birds and beasts is but a trifle.” This is because the human heart-mind holds heavenly nature.

Here a question arises—the one Buddhists call whether a dog has Buddha-nature or not. The ancients said that a dog both has and does not have Buddha-nature: though it belongs to the animal kind, it can still cultivate the Way and attain realization, so one may say it has Buddha-nature; yet at the very beginning when humans and birds and beasts receive their qi transformation, the two differ greatly. Humans are the most spiritually endowed of the ten thousand things; the Li-Qi they receive is pure, complete, and centrally balanced, so one may say they possess Buddha-nature. The qi beasts receive is impure, so one cannot say they possess heavenly nature in the same sense. Tigers and wolves bite people with savage ferocity; born violent and dull, they are obviously without Buddha-nature. Let me now examine the matter more closely.

The qi of Qian Origin (Heaven’s generative qi) sets all things growing; in Heaven it appears as manifold forms. The qi of Kun Origin (Earth’s nurturing qi) lets all things mature; on Earth it takes concrete shape. Everything in the cosmos that has form and appearance arises in this way.

Creatures born from wombs or eggs respond to stimulus first, then qi stirs in reply. Creatures born from moisture and plants work the opposite way: qi stirs first, then stimulus responds. In one case the being senses and then receives qi; in the other, qi’s responsiveness brings generation into being.

Among all things, the human is most spiritually refined, and is formed in this same process. The way humans receive qi matches womb-born animals; yet at the first moment of responsiveness they obtain the vacuum qi (xian tian er sheng, formless yet able to generate the myriad things) within Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). When man and woman unite and joy reaches its peak, stray thoughts seem to fall away, the heart-mind is clear and empty—just like the state of innate Taiji (that is, Wuji, the Limitless). Then, in responsive accord, “vacuum yet mysteriously present”—whole, luminous, formless yet holding the seed of life—arises, as symbolized by “⊙.”

When this innate qi joins with the postnatal shen-qi of man and woman, Qian Origin and Kun Origin take shape separately and become the root of xing (nature) and ming (life). In an instant, Wuji, Taiji, the Two Modes, the Four Images, and the Five Phases are all in place; hence it is said that humans alone receive the full endowment of creation. The innate Taiji vacuum spoken of here is the nature ordained by Heaven—also called Buddha-nature. When Bodhidharma said “every person inherently possesses Buddha-nature” and “directly point to the human mind, see nature and become Buddha,” when Confucians speak of “Heaven-endowed empty spirit,” and when Daoists speak of “innate nature originally empty and still”—all refer to this.

Beasts can only respond to qi; they lack spiritual responsiveness (lingji). At the first moment of conception they take only the image represented by “⊙” and do not possess what is called “Heaven-endowed nature.” That is why both Buddhist and Daoist traditions say “a human body is hard to obtain.”

The human mind moves according to circumstance and the times—sometimes toward good, sometimes toward evil. Mencius held that human nature is originally good; Xunzi held that it is originally bad—yet both took Yao and Shun as models. What Xunzi meant by “bad nature” is the human mind shaped by later influences: the acquired temperament tied to food, drink, and sexual desire. What Mencius meant by “good nature” is innate nature itself. People differ in how nature shows itself because habit and environment stain them: take on blue and you turn blue; take on yellow and you turn yellow. That refers to the temperament formed after birth—the nature bound up with food, drink, and sexual desire.

How the mind stirs also shifts with timing. Whether acquired consciousness (shishen—the mind of later reflection and deliberation) overrides original spirit (yuanshen—the innate, authentic spirit), or consciousness turns back toward original spirit, depends on timing. Whether one loses true nature and falls into beast-like conduct, or turns from delusion back to truth, also depends on timing. Whether one is carried along by the “five thieves” (the forces that drain and disturb body and mind) or turns around to master them likewise depends on timing. When you go with their flow, things mutually generate; when you work against them in cultivation, things mutually overcome. In the forward flow, wood generates fire: the ten thousand things arise from the One and the world takes shape. In the reverse flow, water overcomes fire: the ten thousand things return from the many to the One and merge back into the great void. In human terms, following desire leads to birth as a human being; reversing desire and returning to the root in practice can lead to becoming an immortal.

If the senses—ears, eyes, mouth, nose—are allowed to run with outer conditions, one is lost among the six dusts (the realms contacted through form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects) and may commit every kind of wrong; in extreme cases, even patricide or regicide. Then one turns in the cycle of birth and death, falls into rebirth through the six paths, and passes through many tribulations, hard to escape.

If one instead restrains oneself, curbs selfish desire, acts in accord with ritual and propriety, and uses the borrowed body to cultivate true original nature, the work of the senses can be transformed: what could hear is trained to hear what has no sound; what could see is trained to behold what has no form. Mouth, tongue, and thought are regulated the same way. Thus one can turn from delusion to awakening, become Buddha or immortal, and endure as long as the great void itself.

All people share the same kind of mind, and within it run the same principles. Sage and villain may seem worlds apart, yet their first stirrings alike hinge on circumstance. One who knows how to use that circumstance can align with the way of Heaven and Earth, return to the root and fulfill destiny, and fold the human mind back into heavenly nature—only then has one fully lived as a human being. Yet without seeing and mastering the five thieves, one cannot reach that point.

Establishing the law of Heaven is meant to settle the human heart-mind (shen).

The “Dao” spoken of here is human nature. To preserve that nature, one must follow the Heavenly Dao. The Heavenly Dao appears as the interplay of Yin and Yang: when the law of Heaven is set according to Yin-Yang, the heart-mind finds stability. In practice, this means letting the shishen (the acquired, discriminating spirit of later heaven) return to the yuanshen (the primordial, authentic spirit of original heaven). Shishen belongs to Yin and yuanshen to Yang; stripping away the biased, restless shishen and keeping the yuanshen is leaving the troubled human heart behind and returning to primordial nature.

Once nature is established, the heart-mind settles of itself; otherwise one cannot hold the birthless, deathless yuanshen, nor reach the state of “no birth,” and body and mind remain caught in birth and death. Chasing shishen activity that goes against nature damages original nature; when shishen runs unchecked, nature is lost altogether. Whether one becomes an immortal or an ordinary person, a human or something lower, turns on the finest distinction—one must see it early and take the moment. This section treats nature and the human heart: return to nature and one can become sage-like and good; let nature be dragged by the human heart and one falls into confusion and wrong conduct. Hence the sage stresses establishing the Heavenly Dao so Heaven and humanity resonate and one can recognize the Five Thieves (forces that disturb body, mind, and practice). Only by telling nature from the human heart can one seize the point where Heaven and human unite, advance cultivation, and in the end attain the Dao and become a true person. The opening two lines govern what follows and should be read as one thought.

When Heaven shows the mechanism of austerity and killing, the stars withdraw; when Earth shows it, dragons and serpents leave their winter lairs; when humans show it, Heaven and Earth seem to turn over. Heaven and humanity moving together lay the root of how the myriad things are born and run their course.

The Yijing says: “Establishing Heaven’s law is Yin and Yang; establishing Earth’s law is soft and hard; establishing humanity’s law is benevolence and righteousness.” When humans trigger that mechanism, Heaven and Earth seem overturned; when Heaven and humanity trigger change together, the foundation of transformation in the myriad things is fixed.

The Yijing says: “To establish the law of Heaven is yin and yang; to establish the law of Earth is softness and hardness; to establish the law of the human is benevolence and righteousness.” Once one understands the principles of yin-yang and softness-hardness, one can grasp benevolence and righteousness. Benevolence belongs to yang; righteousness belongs to yin. The initial qi that Heaven and Earth bestow for the growth of all things is what humans possess as benevolence; the austere, decaying qi by which Heaven and Earth bring things to maturity and decline is what humans possess as righteousness. Mencius said: “The heart of compassion and sympathy is the sprout of benevolence; the heart of shame and aversion is the sprout of righteousness.”

Human benevolence and righteousness correspond to the yin and yang of Heaven and Earth. The waxing and waning of yin and yang appear in the alternation of movement and stillness; to understand change in movement and stillness is to know the way of yin and yang. The Yijing says: “Movement and stillness each have their constant rule; softness and hardness each have their master.” Only by following the constant rule does one have a true master.

Humans are one of the “three powers”—Heaven, Earth, and the human—and are born receiving the qi of Heaven and Earth, and so can also take part in the transformations of Heaven and Earth’s creative work. When Heaven and Earth reveal the moment of austere decay, that is change within their operation; when humans reveal the moment of austere decay, that too is change in the shared operation of human and Heaven and Earth. Within austere decay life-force is hidden, and this is therefore called “turning back and returning”—that is, cyclical transformation: when life reaches its extreme it turns into killing; when killing reaches its extreme it turns again into life. This is the same principle as yin and yang changing when they reach their limit. All things have life only because there is killing, and the moment of killing is concealed within the moment of life; where there is killing there is life, and the moment of life is concealed within the moment of killing. Life and killing are movement and stillness: yang governs movement and stands for life; yin governs stillness and stands for killing.

According to the way of Heaven, at the winter solstice one yang is reborn and the life-force first appears; yang then gradually increases until the six yang lines are complete and become pure Qian, with yang at its peak. At the summer solstice one yin is born and the moment of austere decay first appears; yin then gradually increases until the six yin lines are complete and become pure Kun. Thereafter the cycle repeats. “One yang returns” (yi yang lai fu) and “one yin arrives” (yi yin lai gou) are Yijing expressions for how yin and yang qi turn at the winter and summer solstices.

The summer solstice falls in the fifth lunar month, when vitality is at its peak—yet the force of decay and killing is already hidden within. Hence the hexagram Heaven over Wind (Gou), which symbolizes the first yin line arising beneath five yang lines; from Gou the process advances to Mountain over Earth (Bo), where yang gradually wanes. By the Major Snow solar term, yin has reached its extreme, and Earth over Thunder (Fu) appears, symbolizing one yang stirring beneath five yin; from Fu it moves on to Lake over Heaven (Guai), the hexagram of decisive cutting off. The principle is the same: “when things reach their limit they change; after change they return.” The powers of generation and killing depend on each other and hide within one another: the mechanism of decay and killing in heaven and earth is concealed inside vitality itself.

In mid-spring, grasses and trees sprout and grow; the climate is mild and life force is strong—yet signs of decline are already latent. For example, elm seeds (yúqián) may suddenly fall. The second month comes just after “three yang opening the season” (sānyáng kāitài)—the phase in which yang grows and all things revive—when flowers and trees are flourishing; the elm has only just put forth leaves, yet its seeds are already ripe and dropping. Is that not generation and decay occurring at once? Elm seeds are the elm’s seeds. Ordinarily, seeds form only after flowers are in full bloom: the flower stalk falls, then the seed ripens. Here the tree has barely leafed out while the seed is already mature and falling—vitality containing decay and killing within it.

Before the Mid-Autumn Festival and before Frost’s Descent, the qi of decay and killing is strong: leaves yellow and fall, all things wither—yet vitality is still hidden inside. At that time shepherd’s purse and wheat suddenly sprout; that is vitality within the midst of decay and killing. Heaven and earth store generation and killing in each other this way; human fortune and misfortune likewise turn and lean on one another in cycles, like the changes of heaven and earth. Therefore those who cultivate the Dao should understand this principle.

If you wish to seek long life, you must first not be fixated on “seeking life.” If you greedily cling to longing for longevity, you will instead find it hard to escape death.

The mechanism of human life and death connects with the creative transformation of Heaven and Earth: conversion goes back and forth, fortune and misfortune depend on each other, like a ring turning without end. Therefore those who cultivate the Dao should understand this principle. To seek long life, one must first not be attached to living; if one clings only to long life, one will inevitably meet death.

The pivot of life and death is extremely subtle—almost a matter of a single thought. At the moment of “return of the one Yang” (when Yin has reached its peak and Yang begins to arise), if one practices by the method that reverses the ordinary course—emptying the heart, gathering and refining, transforming Jing into Qi (refining essence into inner vital energy)—one can preserve the original true nature before birth. If one follows desire instead, one couples and begets, inflaming lust and harming the body, and may hasten death. Thus within the same vital pivot lie both life and “slaying”: when the postnatal discriminating, clinging consciousness (shishen) holds sway, one loses one’s innate nature; if desire is allowed to grow, one also accumulates various karmic wrongs. Restraining shishen and not letting it act rashly brings quiet clarity and Wuwei (non-action), preserving Heavenly principle; continually expanding this state, one can reach the realm where form and spirit are both wondrous and one merges with the true Dao.

The root of life and slaying is the same; the key is how one applies it. The Qi (Classic of the Unity of the Three, an internal alchemy text) says: “Within favor there is harm; within harm favor is born.” In kindness there may hide injury, and in injury kindness may arise. People toil for food and clothing, and by toil they sustain life; yet birth, aging, sickness, and death come along with toil—this is harm within favor. Those who cultivate the Dao restrain the desires of seeing and hearing, which seems bitter; but if thereby they extend life, though the present is bitter, hope for the future is long—this is favor within harm. The turning between life and death hinges on whether one can invert and employ them rightly.

When Heaven manifests the “killing force”—the destructive, cutting aspect within the transformations of Yin and Yang—thunder and lightning appear, wind and rain arise, heaven and earth grow dim, and the sun, moon, and stars are hidden from view. Thus the visible presence of the sun, moon, and stars is the normal pattern of the celestial signs, while their concealment is an abnormal change. Even fixed stars may vanish, and the sun and moon may suffer eclipse; Confucius recorded such celestial phenomena in the Spring and Autumn Annals to document the killing force that Heaven displayed.

Fixed stars are by nature long-lasting and unchanged, and as a rule remain visible. By day they are masked by sunlight, yet from high places or with the aid of a telescope they may still be seen; the sun and moon move through day and night and shine for long periods. Yet when Heaven releases the killing force, stars that are normally always visible also disappear, and the sun and moon that are ordinarily bright may wane or be eclipsed. This shows that the Way of Heaven has both generation and cutting down: there cannot be only birth without destruction. Thunder swift and violent, wind and storm fierce, are lesser killing forces; the hiding of stars and the dimming of daylight are greater ones. Mr. Li’s reading of “fa” (release/manifestation) as “sheng ji” (generative force) is probably not true to the original meaning. The Yin Fu Jing teaches that within disaster there is grace, and that birth and killing transform into each other. Once the text speaks of the killing force, generative force is already implicit within it; one need not directly equate “fa” with generative force.

“When Earth releases the killing force, dragons and serpents rise onto the land” refers precisely to the Jingzhe (Waking of Insects) season. Before that period ends, dragons and serpents lie hidden in the mountains, dull and without awareness; when Jingzhe arrives, yang qi stirs, their awareness is roused, and they emerge from hibernation. That is the moment when Earth releases the killing force, hence the name “Jingzhe” (Awakening of Insects). The “killing force” spoken of here is really from the perspective of the logic of Yin-Yang transformation: when the killing force moves, dragons and serpents leave their hidden state and pass from dormancy to activity. For the Way it is a killing force; for the dragons and serpents it is generative force.

When the stars vanish from the sky, the heavens’ “killing intent” (sha ji) becomes visible; yet after those stars withdraw their light, they may shine all the more brightly later on—so this is not without its share of vitality (sheng ji). This is what is meant by “sheng ji yi fu”: vitality and crisis (or life and killing) hide within each other.

The scripture moves from Heaven and Earth to the human being and says: “When the person releases the killing intent, Heaven and Earth turn over.” These two lines sum up the whole treatise. The human being is one of the “Three Powers” (san cai)—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—so he too holds both vitality and killing intent. What “sheng ji yi fu” expresses is precisely this.

Heaven is like the umbrella that covers all things; Earth is like the carriage that bears them; the human being lives between Heaven and Earth. Qian (Heaven) is purely yang in nature, yet it governs the virtue of yin and yang together; Kun (Earth) is purely yin in nature, yet it transforms the qi of firmness and yielding. The human being combines the natures of Qian and Kun and receives the upright qi of Heaven and Earth. Therefore the patterns of change within the body correspond to the changes of Heaven and Earth. Once the person “releases the killing intent,” it is like the moment when stars disappear in the sky and dragons and serpents appear on earth—hence the phrase “Heaven and Earth turn over.” The conversion between birth and killing takes place in that very “turning over.”

The Commentary on the Judgment (Wenyan) on the Qian hexagram in the Book of Changes (Yijing) says: “The noble person is diligent all day and watchful at night, repeatedly examining the Great Dao.” That is to say: only by rectifying the mind and making intention sincere, remaining single-minded without interruption, keeping clear virtue within oneself, and working diligently day and night can one transform the mechanisms of life and killing and thereby advance toward the Great Dao.

The pattern of generation (sheng) and killing (sha) between heaven and earth is like the alternation of the winter solstice and the summer solstice: at the winter solstice, the qi of killing reaches its peak and turns into generation; at the summer solstice, the qi of generation reaches its peak and turns into killing. This change can be seen in movement and stillness. When stillness reaches its extreme, it turns into movement; when movement reaches its extreme, it turns back into stillness. All things in the world act through the alternation of movement and stillness, just as people work at sunrise and rest at sunset.

Awakening to Reality (Wuzhen Pian) says: “To refine the elixir, you need not seek the winter solstice outside; within the human body there is naturally a moment when one yang is generated.” What is called “the generation of one yang” is the “winter solstice” inside the body. It appears when stillness has reached its extreme—for example, when yang qi stirs after one has fallen deeply asleep. When movement reaches its extreme and turns to stillness, true yang rises and one yin comes to meet it (in the hexagram Gou, yin qi meets yang qi), and cool, clear fluid descends—this is the “summer solstice” within the human body.

The moment the body’s qi stirs is also the moment of “one yang returns and is renewed” (yang qi sprouts again). The engine of life and the engine of death connect here: follow it, and you beget offspring; reverse it, and you can cultivate immortality. When desire stirs, vital energy (qi) turns into seminal essence (jing)—this is the killing engine; human birth, aging, sickness, and death all relate to this. The body’s yang essence is fullest on the day of “five thousand four hundred on the sheng yellow path”; ancient books call this “altogether sixteen zhu”—a metaphorical way of speaking. When yang essence has reached its peak it no longer increases; any leakage reduces it, and when it is exhausted, one dies—so excessive loss of essence and qi shortens life. What Awakening to Reality means by “there is only one original root; do not add the slightest extra to the pouch” is exactly this principle.

When the body’s killing engine stirs, if one can reverse this process, essence can turn back into qi, then be refined step by step—the foundation of the inner elixir (neidan). What elixir books call “inversion” or “turning upside down” all refer to this reversal. Awakening to Reality says: “If you understand how to reverse after the killing engine has stirred, then you know that from disaster one can also turn out grace.”

Human activity and stillness correspond to the qi dynamics of Heaven and Earth. Yang qi arises in stillness, as at the Winter Solstice; yin qi arises in movement, as at the Summer Solstice. Extended in this way, all twenty-four solar terms can be reflected in the changes of body and mind. The Yinfu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) speaks of the formless Heavenly Dao; grasp its timing and apply it, and one can align with and mobilize the creative work of Heaven and Earth, setting the waxing and waning of yin and yang in motion again.

After Heaven and Earth’s yang qi has waned for a time, it turns upward again at the seventh day; in a person, when stillness reaches its extreme, yang qi begins to stir. What is called “return and reversal” is turning the pivot of growth and decline in Heaven and Earth, mastering the shifts of yin and yang, so that the person matches the Heavenly Dao and drives its course. Thus one can “observe the Heavenly Dao” and “grasp how the Heavenly Dao runs.” Heaven and the human being share the same mechanism for initiating change, and the root from which the myriad things are generated is thereby established.

Lü Zu (Lü Dongbin) said: “Birth is not true birth; death is not true death. Having been born, one can yet gather life back in; not yet dead, one can learn the stillness of death—then one can attain long life.” When a person is utterly empty and still, the discriminating mind of ordinary consciousness fades and desire no longer sprouts. Why does yang qi stir then? It is the shared occasion on which Heaven and the human being initiate change: Heaven’s yang qi stirs the person’s qi, hence it is called “Winter Solstice,” also called the “live zi hour” (the moment in practice when yang qi stirs—not fixed to a clock hour).

The Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) that governs creation is originally a void, undifferentiated substance. When the human heart returns to emptiness and stillness, it becomes one with it. Then yang qi rises from emptiness and stillness; the heart of Heaven and the human heart respond as kindred, and true yang enters the body from the yin qiao (in internal alchemy, the lower region and pathways related to qi circulation), rushes into the mingmen (the locus in the body tied to primordial life-qi), and yang qi is set in motion. “Primordial true yang comes from nothingness,” “summon and gather true yang,” and “a lodestone draws iron—separated by obstacles yet linked in secret”—all describe the same thing.

When the mind is empty and still, reaching a state of “no-self,” it is like the emptiness before Taiji divides—then one naturally resonates and aligns with the void Taiji outside. When the body settles into quiet, like the purely yin Kun hexagram, it naturally receives the one yang and brings it back to life.

Those who cultivate the Dao must first discern whether the “source of water” is clear or turbid—that is, whether the yang qi that arises comes from the moment when heaven and human unite. Only the yang that arises naturally when emptiness and stillness reach their extreme is clear; if desire or emotional thoughts intrude even briefly, it turns turbid—not the clear yang born of natural union between heaven and human.

Therefore, at the first stage of practice one must first seek to enter stillness and restful sleep. Then, unaware, heaven and earth unite and sun and moon meet; body and mind rest in chaotic stillness, showing the image of Taiji. After that, a bit of “Li Qi”—yuan qi that embodies heavenly principle—naturally comes from the void and drives transformation. From this one grasps the pivot when stillness turns to movement, gathers and seals that qi; the root of all change depends on stability in that instant.

Zhang Sanfeng said: “If the human heart can unite with the heart of heaven, yin and yang reverse and transform—in the space of a breath.” Shao Yong said: “In the middle there is a wondrous interval—where is there time to speak?” Chen Niwan said: “Only a moment’s work, and one forever gains boundless peace.” They all mean this.

The principle by which Heaven and Earth resonate with human beings appears to ordinary people as a “mechanism of destruction” (sha ji), yet for those who cultivate the Dao it becomes a “mechanism of life” (sheng ji). This is what is meant by “inversion” and “reversal”—transformation through the opposite direction. The turning point between life and death often lies in a single thought; therefore, to receive, one must first give. In practice, set aside all discursive thoughts and enter a state of empty stillness (xu jing). This is the meaning of “if you wish to seek long life, you must first arrive at non-birth.”

The way Heaven and Earth operate is mirrored in the human person. Yin and Yang can be aligned with benevolence (ren) and righteousness (yi); the “Noble Flood of Qi” (Haoran zhi qi) is “principle and Qi” (li qi)—the ordering of Heaven and Earth together with primordial vital energy—generated by the accumulation of conduct in accord with the Way. Righteousness belongs to Metal and corresponds to stillness and silence; when stillness reaches its extreme, it manifests as faith and righteousness. Benevolence belongs to Wood and corresponds to movement and growth; when the pulse of life stirs, benevolence appears. Righteousness governs quiet gathering; only when accumulation is full can it resonate and draw forth the inexhaustible benevolence of generation. This is the meaning of “Heaven and human unite and issue forth together” (tian ren he fa), and it accords with the patterns of human life as well.

When man and woman unite in intimacy, at the height of mutual joy the mind-spirit becomes empty and still, their spirits intermingle, and thus they resonate with true Yang (the prenatal yang force) and form a fetus—this is the process by which yin and yang of male and female combine to generate life. As for refining oneself, one employs the yin and yang within the body to call forth principle and Qi in the void. When body and mind are both quiet, one returns to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate—the state before yin and yang divide, yet holding the root of generation), recovering one’s original face before one’s parents gave birth. Prenatal true Yang also comes through resonance: in Heaven it is called “nature” (xing), in the human person it is called “life” (ming).

What “Heaven and human unite and issue forth” means is that one’s originally empty true nature (xing) merges with heavenly nature—that is, one sees one’s own true nature (zhen xing). Put another way, only by fulfilling one’s human role can one align with the Way of Heaven.

Human nature differs in quickness and dullness, yet both can be gathered inward and concealed. The “nature” spoken of here is the nature Heaven bestows—the root that is empty and without form, called the body of the Primordial Spirit (Yuanshen) in primordial chaos. It appears dull, yet in fact holds subtle wonder; it neither arises nor perishes. By contrast, acquired temperament easily shifts with outer circumstances.

The distortions that arise from the body’s nine orifices (the sensory openings of eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and the like) must be regulated from three pivotal loci; in cultivation one must also know how to employ movement and stillness. Fire is generated from Wood—if allowed to run its course, disaster is sure to follow; treachery that breeds within the state, once its moment ripens, will inevitably bring the realm to ruin. Those who grasp these truths and cultivate accordingly are called sages.

“Xing has cleverness and clumsiness, and both can be concealed and subdued” means that human nature appears in two forms—sometimes sharp and nimble, sometimes dull and slow—and that these can be reined in and kept hidden from outward display.

The nature Heaven bestows is empty and formless: the hundun (primordial chaos) state of Yuanshen (the primordial spirit, the innate nature, the clear and luminous mind). It looks plain and clumsy, yet holds subtle brilliance; it neither arises nor perishes. The temperament-nature formed after birth comes from one’s parents and is shaped by karmic habits from countless lives—food, drink, sexual desire, and the like. This is Shishen (acquired consciousness and discriminating mind). Outwardly it seems clever, but inwardly it clings and is confined, hence “seemingly clever yet truly clumsy.”

Yuanshen shares one body with the Great Void (vast, formless emptiness); everyone may, from this, cultivate to sagehood or immortality—so what looks clumsy is in fact subtle. Shishen is said to be the root of sinking into delusion and the source of wrongdoing—so what looks bright is in fact unwise. Ordinary people let Shishen rule and often take themselves for clever, only to overreach and spoil the matter. Yuanshen and Shishen wax and wane in each other and hide within one another: when Shishen settles, Yuanshen appears; when Yuanshen withdraws, Shishen runs wild.

The cultivator must tame Shishen and return it to emptiness and stillness—this is hiding inner luminosity within plainness. Yuanshen seems chaotic, yet holds vast light, so original clumsiness can show its subtlety; the acquired temperament-nature can likewise turn and recover authenticity. That is why “concealing and subduing” matters.

Yuanshen belongs to yang; Shishen to yin. When they mutually conceal, the hundun state of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) takes shape. At the start of practice one should heed the Qian hexagram’s “qian long wu yong” (the hidden dragon—do not act yet): gather the heart-mind and keep inner silence without rash movement. The Cantong qi (Zhouyi cantong qi, the classic of internal alchemy paired with the Book of Changes) says the “true person hides in the deep abyss and floats, guarding the middle rule”—again, letting spirit conceal itself and abide in centered correctness.

Hold to clarity and stillness; do not act recklessly in body or mind; let Shishen fully hide in emptiness and silence—within becomes pure, without shows the image of “pure Kun” (Kun as yielding, quiet, and bearing). Laozi says: “Attain the utmost emptiness; hold fast to deep stillness. The ten thousand things arise together; I watch their return.” That is, push emptiness and stillness to the limit and steadfastly guard quiet; as all things flourish, observe how they turn back to the source. Laozi’s “return to the root,” “ clarity and stillness,” and “return to the mandate’s root” all express this idea of concealment and subduing.

The Kun hexagram says Kun circulates through the six directions and calls this “guicang” (return and concealment); alchemical texts speak of “the medicine arising in the Kun direction” and “the southwest quarter”—all using the Kun quarter to point at this meaning in cultivation.

Ordinary people cannot gather and settle their heart-mind and spirit because of what the text calls “the wayward influences of the nine apertures.” The “nine apertures” are explained in two ways. One counts the ears, eyes, nostrils (left and right), mouth, external kidneys (the reproductive organs), and the anal passage. Another adds the navel, external kidneys, anal passage, heart, and crown of the head.

All nine apertures are gateways through which wayward thoughts enter and leave. The eyes look at things and are easily bewitched by colors; the ears hear sounds and easily sink into noise; the mouth craves flavors and the nose chases scents. The body’s other senses are likewise misled by desire, and the heart is pulled by emotion and habit—all of this is called “wayward” or “deviant” (xie). When the mind is tugged by these thoughts, jing, qi, and shen drain outward, and the human heart scatters and runs wild, unable to gather and settle. If one hears and grasps this teaching, the heart can grow still and cease its restless stirring.

“Shishen” (discriminating spirit) means the mind’s faculty of distinction, deliberation, and perception. It uses the nine apertures as gateways in and out, enabling a person to act, work, think, plan, feel, and notice. Shishen clings to the nine apertures and thereby shows its knowing awareness; that is why the scripture calls it “the waywardness of the nine apertures.”

Joy, anger, grief, and delight, when expressed in due measure, are “harmony”; when out of measure, they all become “wayward.” Confucius said, “Let your thoughts be without waywardness” (see Analects, “On Governance”), and also spoke of “the noble person’s nine considerations” (Analects, “Ji Shi”). The ears and eyes do not think by themselves—so why treat seeing, hearing, speech, and bearing as matters of “thought”? Because these activities are led by shishen: when thought is crooked, the work of the nine apertures is crooked; when thought is upright, the work of the nine apertures is upright.

The “Three Essentials” (sanyao) are the ears, eyes, and mouth. The Cantong qi (abbreviated as Qi) says: “The ears, eyes, and mouth are three treasures; guard them and do not let them reach outward. When Dui (the mouth trigram) is in union, do not talk much; speak little and accord with the undivided primordial state.” This is the external side.

Internally, the Three Essentials are Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). Jing connects with the ears, Qi with the mouth, and Shen with the eyes; the three interrelate. The ears and Jing both belong to the Kan palace (the inner direction corresponding to the kidneys and Water). Breath enters and leaves through the mouth; when breath stirs, Shen moves with it—this is the Three Essentials. If you can gather the Three Essentials and keep them from dispersing outward, cunning and plain nature can stay hidden within, and the disturbances that the nine apertures invite can return to the correct path.

The ears, eyes, and mouth can both be active and be still. When they are active, Jing, Qi, and Shen leak outward; when they are still, Jing, Qi, and Shen are stored within. If you withdraw the gaze, steady what the ears hear, regulate nasal breathing, and hold the tongue and the breath in the mouth so that the Three Essentials, which were active, all become quiet, the Three Essentials can turn into the Three Treasures (Jing, Qi, and Shen).

When the Three Essentials are active, the six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind) contact the six dusts (form, sound, scent, taste, touch, mental objects), the mind produces the six consciousnesses, which in turn appear outward as the seven emotions; one then sinks into the external world and finds it hard to turn back, caught in one’s own cycle of rebirth. When the Three Essentials are still, the six consciousnesses return to their source and Jing, Qi, and Shen harmonize; if one advances with vigor, one can attain bodhi (awakening). What Laozi says—“Of those born, one in ten live; of those who live, one in ten die”—likewise reflects how the ten thousand things divide from the One into multiplicity and from multiplicity return to the One.

The turning point where life arises is also where destruction arises; cleverness and clumsiness both spring from here; sharp discernment and dull ignorance both come from here. The objects contacted through the five senses—form, sound, scent, taste, and touch—can make body and mind turn back and harm one’s innate nature.

Good fortune is sometimes the very root of calamity, like fire and wood: fire is born from wood, yet when the blaze runs too strong it consumes the wood entirely. What at first benefits a person can quickly become what harms them—hence the saying: “Fire born from wood—calamity is sure to follow.” The same holds for a state. When a schemer seizes his chance, and the ruler trusts him, relies on him, and grants him power, once his strength grows great he often brings the realm to ruin. Wang Mang treated scholars with humble courtesy; Dong Zhuo was heavily rewarded for quelling rebellion; Xiang Yu sought to restore Chu yet ended by destroying Chu; Zhu Wen meant to defend the Tang yet finally overturned it. Histories record such cases beyond counting.

To see clearly the turning points between life and death, fortune and misfortune, and to grasp when to act and when to hold still—only a sage can do this. The crux of cultivation lies here. The “Appended Remarks” (Xici) of the Book of Changes (Yijing) says: “To know the subtle signs of what is about to happen— that is close to the numinous.” It also says: “When the decisive point is set in motion, honor and disgrace are decided.” Those who study the way of the sage should know where to begin.

Heaven both gives life to the ten thousand things and brings them to extinction—such is the movement of the Dao. Heaven and earth take from the ten thousand things; the ten thousand things take from human beings; human beings take from the ten thousand things. When these three relationships of “taking and using” are properly ordered, the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—each keep their place. Therefore it is said: eating and drinking at the proper times harmonizes the parts of the body; grasping the moment when things stir settles the changes of the ten thousand things.

The essential message of the Yin Fu Jing (Scripture of the Hidden Talisman) turns on one idea: ji (the pivot or moment of transformation). Birth and destruction depend on each other and turn into one another; amid ceaseless change, the pattern of heaven-and-earth’s creative work becomes visible. The phrase “heaven gives birth and heaven slays—this is the principle of the Dao” means that the Dao (the Way) has no name of its own; people provisionally call it “Dao” to steer human conduct. That right course is the regularity by which heaven and earth move naturally—how things arise and pass away. The law of heaven’s begetting and heaven’s destroying things is itself the Dao.

Each phase of birth-and-death change has its ji: in seasonal timing it appears as the right moment; in movement and transformation it appears as the flow of Qi (vital energy). The Yijing says: “To know the subtle ji is divine,” and also: “Shen (spirit) is that which subtly penetrates the myriad things in speech.” Here ji and ji (the subtle threshold and the operative pivot) interpenetrate; only the spirit that is fully awake can discern it. The sky is empty, bright, and vast—the sovereign of creation, unified and wondrous. In the human being, what corresponds to this is benxing yuanshen (original spirit of one’s innate nature—the mind’s original character and inner spirit). Only when the movement and stillness of this original spirit exactly meet the pulse of Qi is one truly shun qi ji (following the pivot of Qi).

Around the winter solstice, when the single Yang first stirs, this is called huo zi shi (the “living” moment of Zi—when Qi stirs in practice, not necessarily clock midnight). When the moment arrives, yuanshen naturally knows it; this is called huo wu shi (the “living” Wu hour). When mind and spirit reach utmost stillness and inner and outer are empty and clear, Shen and Qi naturally unite. Once Qi stirs, yuanshen can perceive it. Patriarch Qiu (Qiu Chuji, founding patriarch of the Quanzhen lineage) said: “When Qi rushes outward, Shen rushes outward with it; when Shen returns to the root, Qi also returns to the root.” That is: if Qi scatters outward, Shen scatters with it; if Shen gathers back to the root, Qi gathers back as well. If mind-spirit is disturbed, Shen and Qi separate: thought moves first, and Qi follows the thought—unlike the case when Qi stirs on its own.

When Qi stirs, the pivot turns—that is the ji of heaven-and-earth’s birth and destruction. To grasp this is to grasp the Dao. At the winter solstice Yang is born; at the summer solstice Yin is born. The pattern of heaven and earth is the pattern of the Dao. The ji at which heaven and earth birth and slay is precisely the ji at which the Dao births and slays.

All things in the cosmos are generated from the pattern-and-qi (li-qi) within Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). Pattern-and-qi pervades the cosmos and gives rise to the myriad things; this pattern-and-qi is none other than the Dao. The formation of Heaven is the formation of the Dao. Heaven and Earth are also one category among the myriad things of the cosmos, likewise born from the Dao. Only the Dao has no form, while Heaven has a concrete image; hence later generations attributed the generation of all things to Heaven and no longer spoke of the Dao.

What people call Heaven making the myriad things grow and perish is in fact the Dao making them grow and perish. The Dao is li (principle), and is therefore also called Tianli (Heavenly principle). The birth and extinction of things are not deliberately arranged by Heaven; rather, some things are bound to be born and some bound to perish. Why is this so? The scope of the cosmos is finite, yet the kinds of things are inexhaustible. If there were only generation without extinction, things would overflow and crowd to excess. The qi of Heaven and Earth would be insufficient to nourish the myriad things, and Heaven and Earth themselves would decline. If there were only extinction without generation, the four quarters would become desolate and the vital momentum of Heaven and Earth’s operation would nearly be extinguished. Therefore generation and killing increase and decrease in mutual balance, cycling without end.

The Qi (here referring to the relevant Daoist text) says: “The sun and moon in motion—that is change; rigidity and flexibility complement each other.” The way of generation and killing is the way of rigidity and flexibility; it is also the teaching of the Yijing (Classic of Changes). Yin and Yang wane and wax, departing and returning. When yin flourishes and yang weakens, and Heaven and Earth are blocked and closed, thunder stirs from beneath the earth, forming the hexagram Fu (Return)—one yang line arising beneath five yin lines). When one yang emerges under five yin, it is called “stillness at the extreme giving birth to yang”—that is, vitality reappearing within extinction. Then in succession come Lin, Tai, Da Zhuang, and Guai, with yang lines increasing step by step until all six lines are yang, forming the hexagram Qian (Heaven). When yang reaches its extreme, wind moves under Heaven, forming the hexagram Gou (Encounter).

A single yin line arises beneath five yang lines, showing that when yang qi reaches its peak, yin qi begins to form; amid vitality, decline and killing also appear. Yin grows step by step through the hexagrams Dun, Pi, Guan, and Bo, until all six lines are yin and the figure returns to Kun.

When yin flourishes to the extreme, yang is born again; when obstruction reaches its limit, openness and ease follow. The cycle between one yang line and six yin lines repeats without end, and from this the myriad things of heaven and earth take shape. Waning and waxing, fullness and emptiness turn like a ring, yet always follow a fixed order. Fuxi named this root principle Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—the whole foundation on which all change rests.

“Ji” means reaching the end; at the end, change occurs, and through change, things open and flow. “Tai” suggests vastness—without boundary, without inside or outside, and not comparable to any concrete image. In the last analysis, this is the principle that when anything goes to its extreme, it turns toward its opposite.

To investigate further through the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang is to see that Yin arises from Yang and Yang likewise arises from Yin. Because there is austere convergence and cutting back, there can be new birth; because the myriad things grow, they eventually decline. Cold and heat, day and night, the waning and waxing of the moon, fullness and emptiness of the moon—all are manifestations of the mutual transformation of movement and stillness. Without summer heat, cold could not stand out; only after the moon’s waning darkness does the new crescent appear at the month’s start. The qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) circulates through the cosmos in just such alternation.

Zi, Wu, Mao, and You are the pivotal points in direction and seasonal timing, called the “four cardinal” (si zheng) positions: Zi belongs to Water, Wu to Fire, Mao to Wood, and You to Metal; with Earth at the center, these make the Five Phases. Zi is Water; by the mutual overcoming of the Five Phases, Water normally overcomes Fire, yet Fire at the Zi position is in the “embryonic” (tai) phase—that is, Fire is gestating there—so Water can in fact give birth to Fire. Wu is Fire; Fire is overcome by Water, but Water at the Wu position is in the embryonic phase, so Fire can also give birth to Water. Between Mao Wood and You Metal there is likewise a relationship of mutual restraint and mutual gestation. This embodies the principle that Water and Fire each harbor within them both vitality and austerity, each latent within the other.

The myriad things grow even as they move toward convergence, and converge even as they nurture new birth. Within mutual overcoming there is mutual generation, so change turns in endless cycles. What is called the “killing impulse” (sha ji) of Heaven and Earth is really the storing away of vitality; it is not the utter extinction of life. Why say so? Through the four seasons, spring gives birth, summer grows, autumn harvests, and winter stores. Spring and summer are times of growth; autumn and winter are times of convergence. What is called austerity and cutting back is storage; storage is keeping vitality inside. The storage of the present is precisely the foundation for later emergence. Growth is certainly life, but convergence still holds life within it—only one shows outward and one is kept inward.

Take trees as an example: after Frost’s Descent the leaves fall and the branches seem harmed, yet the roots become moister than in spring or summer. Dig into the soil and inspect the sap within the roots, and you will find it more abundant than when the branches were spreading in spring. Growth is life, and convergence also holds life—one hidden inside, one displayed outside.

Observing trees is enough to confirm this. After Frost’s Descent, leaves wither and fall, yet the roots grow moister and fuller than in spring or summer. If you dig into the soil and look at the sap within the roots, you find it thicker and richer than in the warmer seasons. That shows life-qi gathering back into the roots—it has not died.

The same pattern appears in the earth itself: in winter the ground freezes. North of the Songhua River, for example, frost can penetrate seven chi into the soil, while below that depth it stays quite warm, so people in sunken dwellings need not keep a fire going. In spring and summer, yang qi rises and spreads toward the surface; in autumn and winter, it sinks and hides underground. When the ten thousand things are growing, the outside is yang and the inside is yin—like the Li trigram (outer yang, inner yin). When they wither and are stored away, the outside is yin and the inside is yang—like the Kan trigram (outer yin, inner yang). Li is dark within and bright without, symbolizing growth and development; Kan is bright without and deep within, symbolizing gathering and storage.

Whether in expansion or in storage, one can say that beings are “borrowing” the principle and Qi of Taiji—the root of generation and change—by which the myriad things come to be and transform. Taiji rests in undivided chaos: in movement it produces yang; that is principle and Qi, and the ten thousand things receive it to live—hence it is called Ren (benevolence). In stillness it produces yin; that is the qi of Metal, and the ten thousand things take shape through the qi of Earth—hence it is called Yi (righteousness). One yin and one yang, one birth and one completion—that is how the world is made; this order does not change through countless kalpas.

From this angle, heaven, earth, and the ten thousand things all arise from the principle and Qi of Taiji. The myriad things borrow the qi of heaven and earth to flourish or decline; heaven and earth in turn borrow the qi of the myriad things to keep turning. Human beings draw on the qi of heaven, earth, and the myriad things at once—and heaven, earth, and the myriad things also draw on human qi. Why is that?

All things grow in spring and gather inward in autumn. While growing, they take qi from heaven and earth; when they contract, heaven and earth in turn take qi back from the ten thousand things. Living between heaven and earth, the yin-yang qi of heaven-earth and the ten thousand things flow back and forth and borrow from one another. Things receive qi from heaven and earth and thus come into being; when heaven and earth reclaim qi from things, those things gradually decline and perish.

Yet the Li-Qi (primordial qi that, in Daoist teaching, is the source from which heaven, earth, and all things arise) that is the root of all existence still remains. After heaven, earth, and the myriad things are destroyed, this qi returns to the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate—the undifferentiated ground before the ten thousand things divide). Every kind of existence in heaven and earth—whether born from womb, egg, moisture, or transformation; whether flying, swimming, walking, or growing as plants; or mountains, rivers, and the great earth—all operate within the action of this qi. Hence it is said that “heaven and earth are thieves of the ten thousand things.” Here “heaven and earth” stands for the Taiji, set over against the ten thousand things; heaven and earth are themselves among the ten thousand things, yet also encompassed within them. The meaning is that the ten thousand things draw on the qi of the Taiji, and the Taiji also manifests and operates through the transformations of the ten thousand things.

The saying “the ten thousand things are thieves of human beings, and human beings are also thieves of the ten thousand things” means that people and the ten thousand things likewise borrow from one another. For example, modern scientists point out that both human beings and the ten thousand things depend on breathing to live. People need oxygen and must take it in to survive; plants need carbon dioxide. People exhale carbon dioxide and inhale oxygen; plants absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen—so people and plants take from each other and only thus can each survive. That is one illustration.

Human life is formed from the union of jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit). The body is only a concrete form, yet shen is its master, qi sustains life, and jing is the root that nourishes the body.

The eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind are called the “six roots.” Through contact with the outer world they cause jing, qi, and shen to drain outward. The ten thousand things also draw people with color, sound, fragrance, taste, and the like, so that jing, qi, and shen slip away through the six roots without one’s noticing. This is how people are worn down by the ten thousand things at every moment.

On the other hand, clothing, food, shelter, travel, and all kinds of desires depend on external things; jade, carriages, horses, medicines, birds, and beasts are often taken, used, or enjoyed, and sometimes life in the ten thousand things is harmed in the process. This is how people wear down the ten thousand things.

Thus the ten thousand things wear down people, people wear down the ten thousand things, and on top of this the mutual waxing and waning between heaven and earth—these together are called the “three lootings” (san dao). All three belong to the natural pattern of arising and perishing. The vast world is formed through these interactions and can also be destroyed by them. The reason the ten thousand things can wear each other down yet also help each other grow is that within formless emptiness the natural Dao holds sway: it generates heaven, earth, and the ten thousand things, yet does not perish along with heaven, earth, and the ten thousand things. When it is said that “what has form will eventually be destroyed, while what is formless truly endures,” this is what is meant.

The phrase “when the three takings are fitting and the three powers are at rest” means that heaven, earth, and humanity—the “three powers”—each occupy their proper place. The rhythms by which all things in heaven and earth come into being and pass away are precisely the relations of mutual influence and mutual taking-and-using among heaven, earth, humanity, and the myriad things.

“Fitting” (yi) here means that human beings follow the way heaven’s Dao runs, employ the myriad things appropriately, and let each attain what belongs to it.

When joy, anger, sorrow, and delight are expressed in just the right degree, that is called harmony; harmony is the principle the world at large follows.

When the mind is quiet and not yet stirred, that is the “center in the unaroused state”; after one is moved and can respond naturally and aptly, that is “aroused yet in accord with the measure.” “Measure” (jie) here means timing and due proportion: heaven’s Dao turns through cold, heat, warmth, and coolness, each in its season; human beings have joy, anger, sorrow, and delight, which also show according to inner condition.

When the heart is sincere, it appears outward; when feeling arises from being touched, as long as it comes from within, it can match the measure. If one is clouded by outer enticements and private desires, emotional expression goes wrong, and the relations of mutual taking-and-using are no longer fitting.