《一贯天机直讲》Vol. 8

When water (here meaning yin essence) joins with yang qi, inwardly this appears as the heart and kidneys interacting; outwardly it is the natural merging of metal qi and water qi. From this arises a mass of true intent (zhenyi), swirling and circulating around the Pass (xuanguan)—the aperture where qi converges in internal alchemy—gathering without dispersing. This is the outward sign of what is meant by “the two earths forming the jade tablet” (er tu cheng gui).

Inwardly, when heart and kidneys interact, water and fire reach mutual completion (shui huo ji ji)—the state in which yin and yang are harmonized. After the celestial circuit has completed three hundred revolutions, a mass of true breath (zhenxi) naturally forms: the elixir origin (danyuan), the fundamental qi condensed in neidan practice. It pulses day and night, descending from below the navel, then rising again through the qiao vessels (channels linked to the feet), ceaselessly going up and down. When you gather and stabilize it with intent, it stays below the navel, turning round like a wheel. It also opens and closes on its own, so true breath rises and falls—reaching the crown of the head and the heels, circulating through the whole body.

At this stage you should work at gently nurturing the elixir origin. The crux lies in “fixing” (ding) and “forgetting” (wang): each day set aside fixed periods for focused stillness, and set aside periods for releasing discriminating thoughts; you may also rest quietly. If you practice six shi (ancient time units, roughly equivalent to twelve hours) each day, the time spent in fixing and in forgetting should be roughly balanced. After a year of such nurturing, the elixir origin transforms into the returning elixir (huandan). The practitioner will see a black sphere before the eyes; if you continue to hold stillness and forgetfulness, the black sphere gradually turns into a red sphere. This is the moment of obtaining the inner elixir (neidan), when work on nature (xing) is nearly complete; what follows is the seven-day practice of the greater celestial circuit (da zhou tian).

“Seven Layers of Refining the Heart” means refining a mind that has already awakened to clarity. The earlier practice of the Golden Water River Cart—the method of refining essence and qi within and circulating the microcosmic orbit—the immortal master called “internal refinement.” At this stage one must also do “external refinement,” so that outer practice and inner work unite and true intent can gather and not scatter. Though the inner foundation is already clear, what still tends to drift is “mercury nature” (the restless mind and awareness); though inner cultivation is in place, what still tends to spoil is the “yin elixir” (the inner pill not yet fully stabilized). If nurturing is not pure, the heart-mind can still slip away.

The method is to use a vacant, luminous heart and a subtly present nature, mix sand with soil, and plant it in “the other house” (neidan term for the complementary pole or locus opposite the self). That house is originally empty; one fills it with one’s own fullness. That house is originally without form; one completes it with one’s own being. Casting the formed into the formless, entering emptiness with fullness, until thought is still and unmoving.

In an instant, pre-heaven primordial Qi (yuanqi that precedes the divided post-heaven world) arises from emptiness. The first “watch” (stage of qi transformation) is one yang, like the Zhen hexagram; the second watch is two yang, like the Dui hexagram. At the second watch, conditions are right for combining the elixir: there exhales a thread of true qi, likened to the tiger born from water; here descends a point of mysterious light, likened to the dragon born from fire. Dragon and tiger meet, nature (xing) and feeling (qing) respond to each other, joining in fierce union as if heaven and earth were dimmed; then body and mind both return to stillness.

Before long, three yang stir, like the pure yang of the Qian hexagram—surging like tides and fire, like mist, smoke, lightning, and snow. Yang qi within the body shines forth; the practitioner holds the sword, forms hand seals, and “treads the Big Dipper” (bugang—stepping in patterns that symbolize pacing the stars), rousing primordial harmony and firing intensely so that qi pierces the Three Passes (three barrier points in the path of circulation) and ascends to the Mud Pill Palace (upper dantian in the head). Every pore opens wide—quite unlike the earlier Jade Liquid River Cart practice.

Swallow what has been refined; use pre-heaven qi to govern post-heaven qi, until nature and life are one—this is the “Great Return.” Nature belongs to fire, number seven; life belongs to metal, number nine. Returning to the root and restoring the source, it is therefore called the “Seven Returns, Nine Returns Golden Liquid Great Elixir.” From then on, “lead restrains mercury” (steady, settling nature holds the volatile spirit)—the heart stays clear and mercury no longer wavers. This is the work of refining the heart to preserve spirit (Shen).

The seven layers of refining the heart-mind are the further tempering of nature that has already become clear—the work of “refining qi to transform spirit” (lianqi hua shen). To temper this nature is to join the empty, numinous quality of one’s own heart-mind with the empty, numinous quality of heaven and earth, so that the mind fully rests in emptiness; at this stage one should increase forgetting and reduce stray thoughts, so that spirit and mind settle. “Forgetting” here means forgetting both body and mind—no longer clinging to body or mind.

When body and mind seem to merge into emptiness, with no distinction from emptiness, change arises within that emptiness and the scene of the macrocosmic orbit (da zhou tian)—the stage in internal alchemy when qi circulates through the whole body—appears: a black sphere turns into a red sphere, also called the “vermilion orange.” This is the moment of “refining the elixir in the fire.” The red sphere encircles the body and moves up and down: it rises from the back and descends from the front, circling front and back. At the four positions zi, wu, mao, and you it slows slightly; after passing them it may suddenly shoot very high or drop very low, like a fox refining an elixir. To onlookers it is only a red sphere rising and falling.

The zi, wu, mao, and you mentioned here refer to movement in directions outside the body; “the other side” (bi jia) means the void, and the practitioner fills it with true intent (zhenyi)—a single-pointed, clear and bright intention. As for the inner scene of the body, it is described as “white clouds ascending to the crown” and “sweet dew falling on Mount Sumeru”: when the red sphere rises, warm qi rises with it; after a while the red sphere descends and sweet dew falls as well, with a sound like thunder.

After seven days the red sphere becomes purple qi, enveloping the whole body. Then yin demons (yin mo)—negative obstacles spoken of in practice—surge in like tides or raging fire. The scripture treats this as the scene of passing through the macrocosmic orbit and compares it to crossing the Flaming Mountains in Journey to the West. At this time one also speaks of karmic burden from past lives appearing, as if all sorts of visions rush in at once.

When a cultivator passes through the stage of the greater celestial circuit (in Neidan, the phase in which qi circulates through the entire body), karma accumulated in the past and every kind of mental stirring may surface together: greed, anger, ignorance, attachment, and long-standing karmic residue may seem to appear before the eyes; people one has known may also rise vividly in the mind.

“Holding the sword and forming the seal” means this: the sword is the Wisdom Sword, standing for the true heart of luminous awareness; one uses that true heart to settle spirit and mind, as if cutting through scattered thoughts with a blade. The seal is the Celestial Seal, symbolizing the heart of heaven. When yin demons (adverse inward visions that disturb the mind in practice) surge forth, a single flicker of thought can shake the elixir furnace—the bodily and mental foundation where essence and qi are refined—so one steadies spirit and mind with the Wisdom Sword and the Celestial Seal, letting the heart abide in empty stillness and cease producing discriminating ideas.

“Gang” refers to the four cardinal directions: zi, wu, mao, and you; “dou” refers to the handle of the Big Dipper, and also metaphorically to the fixed star used to set direction. “At this time one should rouse primordial harmony and refine with intense firing” means that in this phase one must stir original yuan qi and sustain powerful, thorough refinement. The scripture compares this pass to the Flaming Mountains in Journey to the West: the mountain road is blocked, demons gather, and the fire blazes fiercely; only after crossing this barrier can the cultivator settle into stability.

The text then describes bodily sensations: the pores open all over the body, with a popping like frying beans, itching and heat; one feels as if drunk or dazed, and blood and qi seem to surge backward through the whole body. After a while, a cool fluid descends and the entire body turns cool and clear.

The Flaming Mountains require the banana-leaf fan to stir wind and quench fire; the scripture uses this to explain transformations of qi and fluid in practice. Although banana leaves belong to wood, they are soft and pliant—this stands for “wood fluid”; the wind produced by fanning stands for true yin qi. That qi becomes fluid only upon reaching the mouth; before it reaches the mouth it is still qi. The three strokes of the fan are explained as “three,” corresponding to the Qian trigram and to metal; because the banana belongs to wood, this is called the union of metal and wood. The intimate words exchanged when Sun Wukong meets Princess Iron Fan are used to portray the meeting of true yin and true yang—the interplay and union of yin and yang.

The fire of Flaming Mountain symbolizes the fire of the conscious spirit (shishen)—the fire born of deluded, restless consciousness. The Bull Demon King, symbolized by the “bull,” refers to the tender moment when Wukong meets Princess Iron Fan: a metaphor for the meeting of true yin and true yang, their mutual stimulation and fusion.

The fire of Flaming Mountain is still the fire of the conscious spirit. The Bull Demon King also stands for the great white ox in the snowy mountains, representing kun earth—earth of intention (yi). Intention is often mixed with delusion; when deluded thoughts are removed, true intention appears. Intention is originally continuous without break, so when the Bull Demon King is beheaded his head grows back—a symbol that deluded intention cannot be cut off all at once. The Bull Demon King represents deluded intention; the fire deluded intention produces must be restrained by yin-soft power. Extinguishing deluded fire and returning to true nature is seeing one’s true mind and nature. The Bull Demon King’s conversion relies on the vajra encirclement—symbolizing the whole body filled with the vigorous qian metal (qi) of heaven.

Human seven emotions and six desires all belong to deluded intention. In practice, the true and the deluded contend, and yin and yang qi stir against each other. After the great heavenly circuit (the stage in internal alchemy when qi circulates through the entire body), deluded intention returns to what is real, turbid yin is exhausted, true yang returns to the self, and the body becomes a purely yang body. This is “seven returns and nine reversions—the golden elixir great reversion elixir,” distinct from the “jade liquid reversion elixir” spoken of in the small heavenly circuit.

The small heavenly circuit is called “seven returns,” the great heavenly circuit “nine reversions”; if large and small circuits are discussed separately, each can involve both seven returns and nine reversions. After the great heavenly circuit, thought is stilled and the heart unmoved, merging with the great void (taixu—vast, formless emptiness); one then enters the practice of spirit emergence (chushen).

The eighth layer of refining the mind builds on having already subdued discursive thought, continuing to temper the mind until it communes with the divine. After the process of “Seven Returns and Nine Restorations” in internal alchemy—where essence, Qi, and spirit are repeatedly refined and brought back to unity—and using “lead” to govern “mercury” (the steady, solid aspect restraining the volatile, restless one), the mind has already settled. What follows is nurturing by warmth: the Qi within the body is fully transformed into Shen (spirit), and the Shen within the body can move and circulate outward.

The twelve monthly nodes of the year are used here as a map of the stages: the Mao and You months stand for the “bathing” phase (in neidan, a stage of regulating the breath, quieting, and pausing advance or retreat in the firing process), while the other ten months stand for advance and retreat—hence the name “ten-month nurturing by warmth.” This does not mean practice must literally take ten months. If one only seeks to settle the mind and stops short of nurturing by warmth, the mind may be calm but will not become clear and luminous. Through repeated tempering, a luminous mind gradually appears; luminosity then stirs into activity, activity brings transformation, and transformation brings generation and nurture—at which point the work of “spirit departure” arises, and one is not easily misled by external things or emotional entanglements. This is the accomplishment of refining the mind until it becomes spirit.

The eighth layer is to further temper the mind that has already been subdued and settled, so that it connects with the divine spirit—this is the practice of chushen (spirit emergence). After obtaining the Golden Elixir, one must still undergo nurturing and warming for about a year. Apart from the Mao and You months (two months in the traditional calendar), when one enters * muyu* (bathing)—a phase of breath regulation and purification in cultivation—the remaining ten months are called the “ten months of gestation.”

In practice, one makes the emptiness within oneself continuous with the emptiness of heaven and earth. Over time, the purple light enveloping the body turns into golden light; the golden light gradually expands until it spreads like a wheel over the crown of the head—this is what is meant by the vision of chushen. At this stage the practitioner often does not notice it, because the mind is absorbed in self-forgetting and dwells in unawareness. Therefore a companion should stand guard and remind them so they awaken; once the spirit awakens, it leaves the body. At first the spirit is still weak and cannot go far—only five or ten paces; through gradual training it can later reach a thousand or ten thousand li.

Looking back at the physical body, the practitioner feels it is like dung and soil. Some who reach this stage therefore “leave through shijie” (corpse liberation—the Daoist term for shedding the physical body and departing). What follows, “refining spirit to return to emptiness,” belongs to a higher level of practice; it can be cultivated even without a physical body, so one may abandon the body—yet even if one abandons it, the body may remain intact for a long time.

The ninth layer is to temper the mind that has already become clear and luminous, so that it returns to empty stillness. The nurturing and warming before this, and refining spirit to return to emptiness, are all cultivation at the level of spirit-consciousness; even without a physical body one can still cultivate, so one may abandon the body while the body may still endure without decay for a long time.

The nine layers of mind-refinement train the already-manifest lingxin (spiritual mind) until it returns to xukong (emptiness/void). By then nurturing cultivation has already gone very deep: spirit can leave the physical form without confusion, move at will, and go anywhere without hindrance—as if treading clouds and riding mist, roaming every isle—already quite free. Yet if the lingxin is still not empty and still enough, it cannot contain the ten thousand things, so one must still pass through the step called liankong (refining emptiness).

Liankong means making the heart-mind vast and boundless, treating every formed thing as empty, and letting pure clear qi circulate between heaven and earth. At this point it is as if there is a “self,” yet not quite a self; it is empty, yet not merely empty. Worlds may perish, but only the void does not perish; heaven and earth may have obstructions, but the void alone has none. Thus it is said: spirit fills the void, and the teaching extends to worlds as numerous as grains of sand. This is the full course of mind-refinement from beginning to end; there is no step beyond it.

The ninth layer of refining the already-manifest lingxin is huanxu (returning to emptiness). One must thoroughly purify the spirit-shen so that it empties, shatters, and becomes myriads upon myriads of incarnations; then miraculous transformation knows no limit. By then the spirit-shen has been “delivered” from the body: one may return the shen to the void, or return to the void together with the physical body. Wherever the shen goes, it pervades the void; the whole void becomes one’s fashen (the practitioner’s body that manifests and pervades all). In this way the work of the nine layers of mind-refinement is complete.

This chapter runs from the first steps through huanxu. Because it begins from “receiving life” (jieming), the method of practice differs somewhat. After entering the great celestial circuit (da zhouitian), it no longer differs from the innate Dao path as presented in this book today.

Renyuan dandafa (the human-origin elixir method, which takes the person’s body and mind as its foundation) relies chiefly on one’s own yinian (focused intention); it also takes the meaning of “yisheng shen” (the body born of intention). In practice one must concentrate single-mindedly until reaching a state of cheng yi (sincerity and unity). Before lianji (cultivating and tempering one’s own heart-nature) is mature, however, the firing times (huohou) are hard to handle. It is less convenient than Tianyuan dandafa (the heaven-origin elixir method). The ancients held that Tianyuan dandafa was only for those of the finest genqi (spiritual capacity); those of middling capacity had to begin with Renyuan dandafa and only then advance step by step to Tianyuan dandafa.

Lecture Fifteen

The governor vessel (dumai) runs along the back; the conception vessel (renmai) runs along the front.

Direct ascent, horizontal girding—the upper and lower connect.

The practice of cultivating "returning to emptiness" (huanxu)—bringing the spirit and mind back to a state of void and stillness—reaches the point where yang qi first arises within the body, and one may then begin cultivating the Lesser Heavenly Circuit (xiaozhoutian). When yang qi has just begun to generate, this is called the "living zi hour" (huo zishi); when the practitioner perceives the moment yang qi arises, this is called the "living wu hour" (huo wushi).

The Lesser Heavenly Circuit divides into inner "seven returns" (qifan) and outer "nine refinements" (jiuhuan): inwardly, water and fire interact; outwardly, metal and wood unite. The alchemical texts say "do not fixate on the physical body" (buzhuo se shen), reminding the cultivator not to cling to the fleshly form; yet the practice described here is still carried out upon oneself. When fire timing (huohou—the grasp of right moment and degree in practice) is appropriate, inwardly Kan water and Li fire will interact—this is water and fire mutually completed (shuihuo jiji); outwardly Zhen wood and Dui metal interact—this is metal and wood blending (jinmu jiaorong).

Water and fire mutually completed is also called heart-kidney interaction (xinshen xiangjiao). The alchemical texts, lest cultivators fixate on the body, do not directly call it "heart-kidney union." Here, heart-kidney interaction does not refer to physical organs but to the union of post-heaven true yang and true yin; outwardly, true yang and true yin unite in emptiness—this is jade fluid returning the elixir (yuye huandan).

Although the Lesser Heavenly Circuit shows signs of the "river chariot" (heche—the cycling of qi), the practitioner may not easily perceive it clearly, because yin qi in the body is still heavy; by the Greater Heavenly Circuit (dazhoutian), the river chariot's movement can naturally be discerned. The path of the river chariot runs through the Conception Vessel (Ren mai) and Governing Vessel (Du mai): the back is the Governing Vessel, the front the Conception Vessel; the Governing Vessel belongs to yang, the Conception Vessel to yin. When ancients spoke of these two vessels, they usually declined to explain in detail; the author therefore gives a special account below.

Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) gives rise to heaven and earth, and heaven and earth each embody Taiji in turn; the human body likewise contains a Taiji of its own. Taiji has three junction points, and the human body has three junction points as well—hence the three passes (cultivation terms for critical nodes in the circulation of qi).

The body’s three junction points are where the Ren meridian (the channel running along the front of the body) and the Du meridian (the channel running along the back) meet. Between the Ren and Du meridians there is also a vertical vessel called the Chong meridian and a horizontal one called the Dai meridian. Both the Chong and Dai meridians intersect with the Ren and Du, and are therefore regarded as vessels branching off from the Ren–Du pair. The following diagram illustrates this.

Regarding the process from conception in the womb to full physical maturity, it has already been outlined once in general terms. Here the focus shifts to the Ren and Du meridians: in men, the Dai meridian…

From conception and the formation of the embryo through birth, the process has already been outlined once. Here it is explained again through the Ren Meridian (Conception Vessel) and the Du Meridian (Governing Vessel): after a man and woman unite, by the seventh day yang qi begins to gather again and the root of the fetus takes shape. After seven more periods of seven days—forty-nine days in all—the Du Meridian forms first. It arises at weilü (the tip of the coccyx, behind the anus).

A little above weilü appear two white spots, which the texts call the two kidneys at the Life Gate (Mingmen); along this path it ascends to the head, where at the top are two openings called the nostrils; higher still are two black spots called the two eyes. The scripture describes the Du Meridian as the main vessel that holds the body together. After a time the Ren Meridian also forms: it runs along the front of the body, joining the Du at the inner side of the upper and lower lips, descending to the yin qiao point (what the text calls the place of convergence), where it meets the Du again.

The upper course of the Du, as the scripture has it, enters from the inner side of the upper lip, passes by the ears to the spine and joins the spine; it then turns down into the chonglou (the throat), reaches the lower lip, and connects with the upper end of the Ren. Below, the Du divides at the anus: one branch enters the abdomen forward to the navel and is called the Belt Vessel (Daimai); another runs from the anus down to the yin qiao point, where it joins the Ren and the Chong Meridian (the “other vessel” in the text). The Chong rises from the yin qiao to the chonglou, so the text compares the yin qiao to a crossroads where three routes meet.

The scripture also says that in the middle of the body the Du splits from the great bones of the back into two lines that reach the backs of both hands, and from the back to the backs of both feet. The Ren has corresponding paths from the front of the body to the palms and the tops of the feet.

These courses of the Ren and Du are not blood vessels in the scripture’s sense, but channels through which the innate true breath (xixi—the breathing and qi of the prenatal state) opens and closes; in the postnatal phase these channels are blocked and no longer open.

The human body has eight important channel systems: the Ren (Conception), Du (Governing), Chong (Penetrating), and Dai (Belt) vessels, together with the Yangwei, Yinwei, Yangqiao, and Yinqiao vessels. According to this scripture, the qi of the celestial circuit ascends from the weilü (the region near the lower end of the spine) and the yin qiao area, then turns into the hands and feet and connects with the Ren and Du vessels. That is why, when yang qi first begins to stir, sensation often appears first in the hands and feet. The Wen Yan commentary on the Kun hexagram in the Yijing says: “Yellow at the center, penetrating in principle; beauty lies within, and it flows freely through the four limbs.” This describes precisely how qi moves from the interior out to the limbs.

In Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) practice there are upper, middle, and lower “passes”; the Ren and Du vessels likewise have three meeting points: above, at the junction of the great bones of the back; in front, at the place where yin and yang meet between the lips; and below, at the meeting of the yin qiao. The text states that these regions are all threaded through by the Dai vessel.

The scripture holds that at birth the eight extraordinary vessels form first; only afterward do the zang-fu organs appear, and last of all flesh and bone. The eight vessels and the nine channels encircle and gather at the zhonggong—the core region at the center of the body. In postnatal life the Ren and Du become blocked and no longer communicate freely; one must rely on “nine returns and seven reversals” (jiu huan qi fan—the neidan pattern of qi cycling back and forth) to open them. Clearing these two vessels is therefore called “opening the switches and expanding the orifices”—unlocking the gates so qi can pass.

The Du vessel is the pathway by which yang qi rises; the Ren vessel is the pathway by which yin qi descends. Using the Ren and Du to circulate the celestial circuit is the method of the greater heaven circuit (da zhou tian). The lesser heaven circuit (xiao zhou tian), it is said, is driven by the Chong vessel lifting the breath upward, without needing to follow the Ren and Du. The text also explains “Du” as the physical body and “Ren” as the heart-mind; the compound “body and mind” (shen-xin) derives from this pairing.

When the postnatal Du vessel is obstructed, the spine takes over its function in its place. The spine runs through the whole body, so the role of the Du vessel is still present in effect.

The small heavenly circuit (xiao zhoutian) is practiced by “drawing out and replenishing” (chou-tian) according to the two temporal positions of zi and wu: yang qi symbolized as “lead” is drawn from the Kan trigram (standing for kidney water and the north) and added to the yin “mercury” belonging to the Li trigram (standing for heart fire and the south). This drawing forth and replenishing is what is meant by “zi-wu chou-tian.” The “application” (yong) spoken of here still refers to this method of cultivation.

The channel through which this qi circulates is the Chong mai (Penetrating Vessel), the meridian that runs through the body from top to bottom. The Chong vessel connects the zi and wu positions: yang qi rises from the lower body, travels along the Yin Qiao vessel (the channel associated with the legs and genital region), stirs the Mingmen (Gate of Life, the locus of kidney qi at the waist), and the external kidneys (the male genitals) become erect; qi then ascends along the Chong vessel, stirs awareness, and one enters the active “wu-hour” state. When yang qi is aroused yet the mind can be stilled and external things forgotten, cool fluid descends to the Mingmen and yang qi contracts again. The full circulation of yang qi depends on the Chong vessel. Therefore it is normal at this stage that true breath (Zhenxi)—the deep, natural respiration of practice—has not yet formed, that the Ren and Du vessels are not yet connected, and that one does not yet know the route of qi’s ascent and descent.

Zi, wu, mao, and you are the four cardinal positions; they also correspond to the formulas “nine returns,” “seven reversions,” “eight regressions,” and “six abidings”: nine returns at zi, seven reversions at wu, eight regressions at mao, and six abidings at you. “Nine returns” means letting the yang symbolized by the number nine return; “seven reversions” means letting the yin symbolized by seven return—that is, causing the yang of heavenly nine and the yin of heavenly seven each to revert. “Eight regressions” means directing emotion (qing) back to nature (xing); xing belongs to the east and is associated with the numbers three of heaven and eight of earth. “Six abidings” relates to water: the earthly six belongs to water; water reaches “birth” at shen and “bathing” at you, hence “six abidings” at you.

In the post-heaven Bagua (Eight Trigrams), Qian and Kun become Kan and Li; the true feeling (qing) within Kun rises and becomes Li; now that true feeling returns to Kun’s original position, it is called “eight regressions” and “six abidings.” The numbers nine, seven, eight, and six, taken together, summarize the joining of metal and wood and the blending of water and fire.

When Six Water and Nine Metal are added together they make fifteen; when Eight Wood and Seven Fire are added together they also make fifteen. Hence the expressions “metal within water” and “wood within fire.”

The diagram may also mark the four positions zi, wu, mao, and you: mao and you lie on the circuit of the Belt Vessel (Daimai); zi is at the Yin Qiao (Yinqiao), and wu at the crown of the head. What is meant by “within the bodily cavity” refers precisely to these locations.

In practice of the small circuit (xiaozhou tian)—guiding qi through the body with intention—when one advances from entering stillness to forgetting distinctions, consciousness rests in deep quiet, as if present and yet not, forming a realm of chaotic emptiness like a purely yin Kun body. At that point yang qi arises from within the void. When yang first stirs in emptiness and has not yet reached the body, one still dwells in chaotic unknowing. Once the body responds, the state shifts from dark stillness to indeterminate vagueness: outwardly there seem to be signs, inwardly there is feeling.

Suddenly white light appears, and one feels it approach the body—this is an outer sign. When yang first arises it reaches the limbs first; sensation becomes very sharp, and the limbs may tingle—this too is an outer sign. At this stage one must settle the heart-mind (xin) on the place of outer sensation; this is the meaning of “focus the spirit and enter the qi cavity” (ningshen ru qi xue). The saying “To become Buddha or immortal takes no forced effort; it all lies in focusing the spirit and entering the qi cavity” means exactly this.

One then feels that within profound emptiness a cloud of hazy qi (yinyun zhi qi—a gathered, almost-but-not-quite vapor) faintly condenses, and inwardly one knows yang qi has been produced. This knowing comes from yang’s touch; if the heart-mind stays fixed in the body, yang will dissipate. Therefore the heart-mind must be settled in the void and gathered into that hazy qi. Though heart and breath are already mutually dependent, one must focus the spirit further, because the heart-mind has been pulled by sensation and easily scatters—so one draws spirit back into qi and stabilizes it in the Mysterious Orifice (xuanqiao), the key locus in practice, without letting it wander. One also applies a very subtle intention, called “martial fire” (wuhuo)—here meaning guidance by the faintest yi.

When yang qi first begins to arise, one must not use fierce firing: on one hand, lest body and mind be startled and spirit scattered; on the other, lest stray thoughts arise and instead cool the firing. Therefore one applies a slight intentional effort, then again uses wuhuo (vigor fire)—stronger intent and firing—to cook and refine with force. This is spoken from the angle of cultivating gongfu.

From the perspective of “obtaining the medicine”—when true qi stirs and appears in practice—this is using fire to drive metal qi to move. Only when fire urges it does metal qi ascend; what is meant by fixing true intent in the aperture is precisely this.

As yang qi grows fuller and fuller, one may feel numb ease through the whole body, as if all eighty-four thousand pores feel yang qi stir. The scripture borrows from Journey to the West the image of Sun Wukong’s eighty-four thousand hairs each able to transform—describing the state when yang qi reaches every pore of the body.

Daoist books call the process of yang qi steaming the body “huohou” (firing). At first, though yang qi has reached the body, it has not yet gone deep; when one feels numb ease throughout, that shows it has entered within. Then one needs a method to keep yang qi in the body—the key is “forgetting”: do not deliberately fix on the body, nor constantly watch over it. If one keeps attending to the body, yang qi may leave; only by forgetting the body can one help retain it. This point is extremely important.

Once yang qi is retained, day by day it accumulates, and yin qi gradually recedes. When half the yin has withdrawn, spirit enters the qi cavity—the inner aperture spoken of in qi-cultivation and spirit refinement—and naturally settles in the utmost good. When yang qi is ample, one can naturally be settled and forget the body; this is the shift from forced effort toward ease and spontaneity.

After gongfu reaches the state of ease, settlement, and forgetting the body, what one experiences is “spirit awareness”—unlike when the shishen (ordinary consciousness and discursive mind) was dominant before. Earlier it was shishen at work, so one had to practice forgetting the body deliberately; now shishen withdraws, yuanshen (original, luminous spirit) appears, and one can naturally be settled and forget the body without separately stopping the fire—forgetting the body itself can stop the fire.

In the phase of slight intentional effort, fixed intent counts as wuhuo; forgetting counts as wenhuo (gentle fire); ceasing practice is called stopping the fire. At the stage of ease and spontaneity, the arrangement of firing changes: intent that is deliberately applied is wuhuo; fixation that arises naturally is wenhuo; forgetting both body and mind is stopping the fire.

At this point one may continue with the practice. While still in the stage of forced, intentional effort, one should stop manipulating and hold back the fire; once one has entered a natural state, one uses forgetting thoughts as the method of sealing the fire. Each day let the mind return to chaos, and yang qi will naturally arise day by day. When yang qi is full and complete, one reaches this stage.

By then one should gather the medicine within ding (meditation), seal it with forgetting thoughts, and continue the work. This differs from the earlier approach of using ding to refine, using forgetting to gather, and using cessation to seal. Patriarch Lü said: “Simply guard the medicine furnace and attend to the fire; settle spirit and breath and let them be natural.” That is this state of ease and spontaneity. When the work reaches here, yang qi can naturally become sufficient; there is no need to refine deliberately anymore—only gather within ding and seal with forgetting thoughts.

Only at this level does true “return” (restoring life to its prenatal source) begin. When yuanshen (original spirit) is both lucid and aware, it relates to the small heavenly circuit (a zhoutian practice of circulating qi by intent). Before that, while still forcing effort, when yang qi stirs one becomes aware of it and immediately enters ding; but that awareness already mixes in postnatal consciousness—it is not pure and not wholly prenatal. When one naturally enters ding and naturally forgets thoughts, that is purely prenatal; only then can one “take from Kan and fill Li” (harmonizing yin and yang symbolized by Kan and Li).

When postnatal consciousness is mixed in, even if some gathering occurs it is not pure enough and the effect is limited; one must wait until yuanshen is lucid and aware before full gathering is possible. After three hundred circuits of heaven, there is the effect of establishing the foundation (firming the root of practice). In the earliest forced stage, when yang qi stirs and one becomes aware, awareness still carries intent—it cannot become the clearest source of water and still bears traces of body-mind contrivance. That can nourish the postnatal but cannot enter the prenatal; it can preserve health but cannot form the elixir. Whenever yang qi stirs and one becomes aware, afterward yang qi gradually withdraws—all of that still depends on the action of shishen (postnatal conscious mind).

One must reach the state in which the primordial spirit (yuanshen)—the innate, clear awareness present from birth—naturally notices and naturally gathers itself. Only when everything arises in this spontaneous way can it be called pre-heaven (xiantian). If one only notices the primordial spirit but does not use it to nourish the body, one cannot form the elixir (jiedan). When yang qi stirs, one is aware of it; afterward, as yang qi gradually withdraws, that still cannot avoid being the work of the acquired mind (shishen—the post-heaven faculty of thought and intention).

When the primordial spirit naturally becomes aware, there will first be a wave of tingling numbness, then yang rising. At first one does not notice it oneself; only when yang qi has stirred does one enter the “Hour of Living Wu” (huowushi—the moment when yang qi activates). At that point one should settle the heart-mind, draw attention inward, and not chase outward; then yang qi will naturally turn back. When practice is mature, cool fluid descends, the mind feels cool and clear, as if one has just bathed—the whole body at ease. That counts as completing one circuit of heaven (zhoutian—a full cycle of internal qi).

Each day, in entering a state of chaotic quiet, stored yang becomes full; when yang arrives, it impels the yin qiao (a channel tied to lower-body qi) and merges with primordial qi (yuanqi). Mingmen (the life gate at the waist) belongs to the inner kidney and connects with the outer kidney; when yang reaches mingmen, the outer kidney rises. At the same time yang ascends through the chong vessel to the crown and touches awareness. Awareness belongs to shen (spirit); as soon as one notices the yang stir, shen naturally settles, withdraws outward-scattering attention, and returns to the qi cavity (the place in practice where qi is gathered and stored).

After a while the yang organ withdraws, and the “wood fluid” (muye—the subtle fluid spoken of in this practice) descends naturally. This fluid is produced from qi and flows from the crown down to the dantian (energy center). The cool fluid is extremely precious; once it descends, the whole body is cool and the heart is joyful beyond words. What began in chaos has by then become clear.

In this process, the firing and timing (huohou—the adjustment of body-mind state in practice) are naturally harmonized by the spirit’s awareness: first tingling in the pores, then bodily ease; after the cool fluid descends, itching also stops. At that point one circuit of heaven is complete.

The spiritual fluid on the crown of the head is “true yin,” also called “jade fluid.” When incoming yang qi merges with yang qi within the body and moves upward, the yang within is the yang hidden in the Kan trigram—the true fire of the life gate. Kan belongs to water yet hides true fire. As it rises to the Li palace, Li belongs to fire yet hides true water. True fire ascending meets true water; the true water in the Li palace then descends. The external kidneys (the genitals) lift with the rising fire and settle again when water qi descends. True water flowing into the life gate is “water coming to meet fire.” All these changes are called water and fire intersecting.

True fire in Kan rising is called “taking from Kan to fill Li”; true water in Li descending is called “returning from Li to restore Kan.” Kan and Li intersecting restores the original state of Qian and Kun. The life gate and inner kidneys hold true fire; the kidneys correspond to the physical body, so they are regarded as yang within the body. Perception and activity return to the heart in the brain, which holds true water and belongs to yin. Taking the human body as the model, water and fire intersecting means heart qi and kidney qi intersecting.

This is called the naturally occurring “living zi hour”; the “living wu hour” is natural coupling (union of yin and yang). Long cultivation, as the scriptures say, can reverse aging: white hair turns black, fallen teeth grow anew.

This internal union is also called “Kan-Li dragon-tiger intersection.” There is also “external union,” called “Qian-Kun zi-wu intersection.” At the living zi hour, incoming yang qi reaches the mysterious aperture of the middle palace (a key term in practice for where qi converges in the body); the mysterious aperture connects with yin carried by the breath. Once yang reaches the mysterious aperture, it quickly connects inward. Qi from the life gate surges to the heart—that is the living wu hour; spiritual awareness naturally appears in the mysterious aperture from meditative stillness, as if light breaks through chaos.

After spirit-awareness appears, it gathers and enters the qi cavity (where qi is stored and nurtured), meeting incoming yang qi. This is called “metal and wood intersecting,” and it happens within the mysterious aperture. Yin qi is originally “wood mercury,” stored in the Li palace; incoming qi is called “lead,” belonging to metal. This union is called “Qian-Kun zi-wu intersection.” Inner phenomena include only tingling numbness and the rise and fall of the genitals; as yin descends and yang ascends, one cannot perceive it directly—what one feels is only movement in the genitals.

The descending cool fluid originally arises from true qi; when spirit and qi meet, seminal fluid is produced—this is called “the pre-heaven within the post-heaven.” When the whole body tingles and itch penetrates the pores, one round of the microcosmic orbit is complete; the scripture holds that at this point one cycle of the orbit is finished.

When heaven and earth (Qiankun) meet at the zi and wu positions, it is called the “nine returns”—meaning that yang qi in empty space is turned back. When Kan and Li (water and fire) join with the dragon and tiger (symbols of yin and yang qi), it is called the “seven reversions”—meaning that yin within the body is withdrawn. The nine returns advance yang; the seven reversions retreat yin; their functions differ. The nine returns belong to the phase of advancing yang. When the whole body feels tingling and numbness, and itchiness reaches the pores, one cycle of the microcosmic circuit (xiaotian) is complete.

In cultivation you must wait until awareness arises naturally; only then is the original spirit (yuanshen—the innate spiritual agency) in charge, and the method is correct. If you force it deliberately, even when yang stirs (yang arousal: yang qi mobilizes and the body shows physiological response), yin and yang cannot unite, because the “source of water” is not clear. Here “source of water” is Neidan terminology for the condition of essence-qi on which practice relies. If the source is unclear, the body will not feel soft, numb, and relaxed from inside out; only when the source is pure can practice take effect.

In sleep, when stillness reaches its depth, yang qi stirs and the source of water is originally pure; but if spirit and qi are not united, though yang moves, the person has no awareness. If, after yang stirs in sleep, one wakes and that waking counts as awareness, then as soon as one is awake, fear of wandering thoughts and desires may cloud the source and make the elixir hard to refine.

In former times Prince Mingji had already taken a master and studied the Dao, then went to see Master Wu. Master Wu asked: “What method did your earlier teacher use to instruct you?” Mingji answered: “My teacher told me to wait until yang stirred in sleep, then after waking to apply effort to gather it. I practiced for a long time with no result—why?” Master Wu said: “Knowing yang has stirred after you wake, then getting up to sit in meditation—when you rise on waking, you have already fallen into bodily form. If the source of water is not clear, how can you refine the elixir?”

From this we know that to make the source of water pure, one must first do the work of “returning to emptiness” (huanxu)—letting body and mind settle into quiet. When yang stirs, one must also grasp the firing process (huohou) according to each stage, so the source stays clear and not turbid. What alchemical books call “striking bamboo to call the tortoise” refers to the living zi hour (the moment yang naturally stirs); “plucking the zither to summon the phoenix” refers to the living wu hour (when yin and yang unite and yang qi circulates). If yang stirs in sleep and awareness arises naturally, with the original spirit bright and in command, there is no need to wake—the work is already done and the circuit has completed one round.

Furthermore, the so-called “martial fire of the clepsydra” (kelou zhi wuhuo) means sustaining practice by counting breaths (shuxi).

When counting breaths, you need only let your ears notice the movement and stillness of breathing—not deliberately listening to count breaths, but letting breath naturally reach the ear so you can hear it. Heterodox paths have misunderstood the fire phases (the timing and measure in cultivation), and so produced many elaborate doctrines about counting breaths and prolonging breath, not knowing that there is already a natural, genuine fire phase that need not be forced like burning grass or thatch. When body and mind are settled and practice proceeds naturally, Yuanshen (the original spirit in neidan—the inner spiritual faculty) acts on its own; there is no need to manipulate it with effort.

At the start of practice, when yang rises and then subsides—for example, if it once took a quarter of an hour, that interval gradually shortens: from a quarter hour to ten minutes, five minutes, and at fastest from the hour of Zi to Hai it may occur once per minute; that counts as proficiency. One should keep practicing; hence the saying “the Heavenly Circuit runs freely hundreds of times.” The Heavenly Circuit is the process of qi moving in neidan cultivation; movement and stillness follow one another without break. When this reaches three hundred cycles, the Microcosmic Orbit (the circuit of qi along the prescribed route) is complete and the elixir foundation is formed.

The elixir foundation lies one cun and three fen below the navel. When qi first stirs, it pulses there, descending to Mingmen (the Life Gate point at the lower back) and ascending to the heart region. In practice, fix your gaze on the spot one cun and three fen below the navel and use that concentration to settle it. The Scripture of the Hidden Talisman says “the pivot is in the eyes”—this is what it means; the Treatise on the Unity of Nature and Life says “heart and kidney are eight cun and four fen apart, hollow like a lotus root yet connected”—also this. After three to five days of focusing here, qi stabilizes and pulses in a circle at one cun and three fen below the navel; true breath (the deep, fine breath that arises naturally in neidan) is established and naturally opens and closes.

When the practice of seven returns and nine reversions reaches the stage of “once per minute,” one should continue cultivating in this way for three hundred celestial revolutions. Once the small celestial circuit is complete, the body can be restored to something like the state of childhood innocence, and foundation building is then successful.

What is called “fire timing with measured breath” means applying effort by regulating the breath and reining in stray thoughts. The scripture worries that when yang qi first stirs, the practitioner may fixate on bodily sensations, so it has one listen to the breath with the ears and count silently in the mind, thereby binding body and mind and avoiding a scattered spirit. This method is the same as the breath regulation at the start of practice, already explained above. Both the Buddhist “Six-Syllable True Words” and the Daoist “Six-Character Formula” refer to this kind of breath regulation. The Daoist six characters are chui, he, xu, si, hu, xi:

Chui regulates the kidney meridian; he regulates the heart meridian; xu regulates the liver meridian; si regulates the lung meridian; hu regulates the spleen meridian; xi regulates the triple burner. The text holds that the qi of each character can reach the corresponding meridian and then penetrate the related viscera; when the breath is even, illness can be cured. The Buddhist six syllables serve the same purpose; both traditions use their six-character formulas to regulate breath and treat disease.

The Damo Chan Sutra mentions four stages in the process of regulating breath: “panting, blowing, ordinary breath, and true breath.” In regulating breath one passes through these in order: “panting” means more exhalation than inhalation and uneven rhythm; “blowing” means heavy, coarse breathing, like snoring in sleep. After practicing in this way for some time, the breath gradually becomes even. “Ordinary breath” means the postnatal breath has been smoothed; when the true breath (the subtle, natural breath spoken of in practice) forms and settles below the navel, that is called obtaining the true breath.

The scripture divides practitioners into those of “deep root” (zhigen) and “dull root” (dungen): the former have a stronger foundation and sharper insight; the latter the opposite. In practice, some see visions and some do not. Dull-rooted people usually do not see outward forms; only when they reach “true substance” (shixiang—the real stage spoken of in cultivation) do they see anything. Deep-rooted people more often see all sorts of scenes, but these are illusory appearances (xu xiang), not real things.

What may appear at the very start of practice is the murky, not-yet-clear state when Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) and the Two Modes (liangyi) have just begun to differentiate. Such scenes can arise at any point in practice, especially when spirit (shen) and Qi (vital energy) unite. Deep-rooted people see them more often; dull-rooted people less, or not at all. What arises inside the body is called a “vision” (jing); what appears before the eyes is called an “appearance” (xiang). Alchemical classics (danjing) often say that each advance in practice brings some vision. Because those texts frequently use visions to explain cultivation, they are hard to understand.

Heart Transmission in Rhyme (Xinchuan Yanyu) expounds the Great Way of the pre-heaven (xiantian dadao—teaching on innate nature and cultivation). What it records is mostly language for verifying stages of practice, not concrete “dharma forms” (fa xiang—the images that appear in cultivation). Even so, its questions and answers often touch on such forms. The words “that” (bi) and “I” (wo) are especially easy to misread. Here “that” is relative to “I”; many take it to mean a woman, but “that” does not refer to a person—it refers to empty void (xukong). Because what is seen is hard to describe directly, “that” is used as a stand-in. For example, when awareness arises and one sees an “I” before oneself, the object of awareness is called “that,” not “I”: the one who is aware is “that,” not “I.”

“An empty valley carries the echo; a shadow follows the pole at once” is a saying common in alchemical texts: where there is an opening, sound comes forth; the voice seems to come from emptiness, like nature’s own sound—hence even an empty valley can echo. “Sword” means the light of wisdom (huiguang), the light spoken of in cultivation; with this sword of wisdom one cuts away various demon obstacles (mo zhang). Awakening to Truth (Wuzhen pian) says “ten thousand miles, demons slain—one flash of lightning”; that is the same idea. “Nine” stands for yang; the light of wisdom is the light that appears within emptiness. The “stringless qin” means a zither with no strings that still sounds by itself—a metaphor for sounding without being plucked.

The Ninth Sword is used to cut down every kind of demon and devil. Understanding Reality (Wu Zhen Pian) says, “In one flash of lightning, demons are slain ten thousand miles away”—that is the sense meant here. “Nine” belongs to Yang; “Wisdom Light” (Huiguang) is the light that appears from within emptiness. “Stringless qin” means that though the instrument has no strings, it still sounds by itself—an image for producing resonance without plucking.

Lecture Sixteen

True Water and True Fire, after seven reversals, meet inside the body; Metal and Wood at the zi and wu positions, after nine returns, unite outside the body.

In the Small Heavenly Circuit, “nine returns and seven reversals” were already explained: inside the body, Kan and Li meet at south and north; outside the body, Qian and Kun meet at zi and wu. Kan and Li meeting south and north is the heart and kidneys joining within; Qian and Kun meeting at zi and wu is spirit (Shen) and Qi joining outside.

When true Yang stirs and enters the body, the “external kidney” (here the genitals) rises—this is the “Living Zi Hour” (huo zi shi); true fire from the Life Gate (Mingmen) surges to the crown and brings awareness—this is the “Living Wu Hour” (huo wu shi). When both moments arrive, inner and outer union has already taken place.

True Yang comes from emptiness; emptiness lies outside the body, so this is called “outer.” Qian and Kun meeting at zi and wu is “nine returns”; Kan and Li meeting south and north is “seven reversals.” In fact, Qian and Kun at zi and wu is also meeting at mao and you, also called “Metal and Wood merging” (jin mu jiao bing).

The “mysterious aperture” (xuan qiao) is the gate of the mao position; mao is one’s own true void (zhen kong)—the small void. You is the great void. Emptiness is hard to put into words, so it is temporarily called “that”—yet that “that” is the “I” within “I.” One inherits one’s nature from the womb; nature comes from emptiness. “That” is master of emptiness, and emptiness is master of “I”—hence “that is truly the I of I.” The diagrams below illustrate this.

The small void and the great void communicate with each other; qi comes from within the void, so what lies on the void’s far side is truly my master. In postnatal cultivation, people often take the visible body as “I”; this “I” is in fact the shi shen—the spirit of discrimination and discursive thought. Only when it joins the master in the void does it constitute the real “I.” A shi shen that takes the colored body as its lord is actually only a provisional false self.

When zi hour meets wu hour, it is also when mao hour meets you hour. Mao belongs to Wood and stands for the spirit of wood-mercury, namely red mercury; you belongs to Metal and stands for the yang of true lead, namely white lead. When the huozi shi arrives—the moment true yang stirs in the body—true yang comes to the body and the external kidneys engorge. Then the mercury represented by the spirit of true awareness naturally stirs, enters the xuancaw (the key aperture spoken of in cultivation), draws in the “lead” of true yang, and merges with it; hence it is called “lead arrives, mercury welcomes.” Using the mercury of spiritual awareness to welcome the lead of true yang is mao meeting you, also called outer union.

Within the body, when yang qi stirs and surges to the crown, that is wu meeting zi. What should welcome true lead is spiritual awareness, not shi shen; if shi shen is employed, that belongs to postnatal consciousness and cannot produce transformation. The saying “welcome it with intent, send it with intent”—here “intent” means spiritual awareness, not the deliberation of shi shen.

Mao and you unite outwardly; zi and wu unite inwardly. When both aspects are complete, the condensed fluid descends to the mingmen (the life gate at the waist), and the external kidneys contract accordingly. This is called zi coming to meet wu, that is, inner union. Outwardly, the spirit of wood-mercury settles in the xuancaw; true lead then comes to unite with it—this is you uniting with mao. First mercury goes out to welcome lead; then lead comes to join mercury; both occur in the outer xuancaw, hence it is called mao-you union.

Inside the body, first wu unites with zi—fire meeting water; then zi unites with wu—water meeting fire. This is the inner union of water and fire, also heart and kidneys uniting. Inner and outer unite at once, so it is said: “Within, Kan and Li cross north and south; without, Qian and Kun cross zi and wu.” The zi-wu union spoken of here is the same as mao-you union.

The inner interplay of water and fire is called the “seven returns”; the outer union of metal and wood is called the “nine returns.” These are the nine returns and seven returns within the small heavenly circuit (a phase of neidan practice centered on circulating qi). In the full arc of the elixir method (the complete process of internal alchemy), the small heavenly circuit counts as the seven returns and is termed “Jade Liquid Elixir Restoration”; the great heavenly circuit counts as the nine returns and is termed “Golden Liquid Great Elixir Restoration.”

If one speaks only of the practice within the small heavenly circuit or within the great heavenly circuit alone, each of those paths still includes both seven returns and nine returns. The small heavenly circuit in the overall elixir method is called the seven returns because it chiefly treats the meeting of Kan and Li (symbols of water and fire, yin and yang) in the south and north: yang qi from the Mingmen (in neidan, a locus tied to the root of life) surges upward to the heart region—Kan water returning to Li fire; cool, clear fluid from the heart descends to the Mingmen—Li fire returning to the Kun field. This is called “internal elixir,” also named “Jade Liquid Elixir Restoration.”

“Jade” here means nourishing one’s own body. After this round of return, the body is restored to something like childhood, and one can extend life—so “refining the self” (lianyi) is essentially caring for oneself. The cool fluid descending from the crown is called “jade liquid.” By then Li fire has turned into Qian yang; jade liquid can replenish what the body has lost and move it toward wholeness, hence “Jade Liquid Elixir Restoration.”

“Golden Liquid Great Elixir Restoration” in the great heavenly circuit comes after the work of restoring the childlike body is finished. Practice then focuses on the empty void. “Nine” is the number of yang; one gathers true yang from the void—that is, one takes the “Qian metal” that stands for Qian yang—so it is called “nine returns.” The “seven returns” and “nine returns” here differ from the way those terms were used when dividing stages of the whole elixir path: within one segment of the method, the seven returns of the small heavenly circuit still contain nine returns, and the nine returns of the great heavenly circuit still contain seven returns. In the great heavenly circuit, yang rising along the back and descending in front is also called seven returns.

The text also asks: why distinguish “Kan and Li meeting north and south” from “Qian and Kun meeting at noon and midnight”? That distinction involves nine returns as well; and within the nine returns of the great heavenly circuit, seven returns are included too.

Why distinguish “Kan-Li north–south intersection” from “Qian-Kun midnight–noon intersection”? Because the human body holds two realms of heaven and earth and four modes of yin and yang—the difference between pre-heaven (xiantian) and post-heaven (houtian). Pre-heaven has heaven, earth, yin, and yang; post-heaven also has heaven, earth, yin, and yang. In pre-heaven arrangement, Qian is south, Kun is north, Li is east, and Kan is west; in post-heaven arrangement, Li is south, Kan is north, Qian is east, and Kun is west.

Pre-heaven yin and yang abide in empty space, called “Mao and You—metal and wood joined”—that is, east and west meeting, also called Qian-Kun intersection. Post-heaven yin and yang enter the human body: Kan corresponds to the Mingmen (gate of life), Li to the crown of the head. The yin and yang represented by Qian and Kun are the formless yin and yang that govern the body from within; those represented by Kan and Li are the concrete yin and yang inside the person.

The small void (the human body) communicates with the great void (heaven and earth); the qi of heaven and earth enters the body’s openings. Pre-heaven qi remains linked to the post-heaven body, so formless Qian-Kun yin and yang secretly master Kan-Li yin and yang. Human breathing connects with heaven and earth; day and night one draws in the qi of heaven and earth and uses it to move the body so one can act and work—otherwise one declines. The conscious mind (shishen)—the awareness that thinks and discriminates—also depends on the qi of heaven and earth to endure, so it can long remain in the body and govern the self; otherwise it disperses.

One lives by these formless heavenly and earthly yin and yang; hence the saying of “two layers of heaven and earth and four yin and yang.” Li Qing’an’s comparison of a person to a puppet is apt. He said: Take a puppet—its hands and feet can perform all sorts of movements, not because the puppet moves on its own, but because strings pull it. Though the motion is transmitted through the mechanisms on the strings, what truly moves the puppet is the person who operates it. Do you recognize the one who operates the puppet?

Remember the puppeteer from before? The scripture compares the human body to a puppet, the strings that move it to the breath-Qi that sustains the form, and the puppeteer to the “true master”—the authentic self that truly governs body and mind. The puppet moves because the strings are pulled; the strings do not move on their own—they are drawn by the operator. The text likens that operator to emptiness (xu) and calls emptiness the real sovereign. “Lead” (qian) lies within emptiness, invisible to the eye; only emptiness is the true master.

The puppeteer stands outside the puppet; the sovereign in emptiness likewise stands outside the physical person. That is why Neidan (internal alchemy) calls it the “master come from outside.” One should invite this master into oneself so that it becomes one’s own ruler. This is the true nature bestowed at the first intake of Qi, the gift of primordial heavenly Qi (qian yuan). Only when true nature holds sway can a person endure; when the acquired, discriminating mind (shishen) takes charge, there are things one cannot do.

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong calls himself “Old Sun”—here he stands in for that master from outside. When Sun subdues the Green Bull, the bull carries a white ring that can swallow every treasure: Sun’s golden cudgel, Prince Nezha’s demon-slaying sword, and the Fire God’s flames—all are taken. Neither water nor fire can harm it. The Heavenly King Li asks Sun to steal the ring, but the bull demon wears the bracelet on his wrist, so the theft fails, and they seek help from the Buddha in the West. The Buddha sends the Eighteen Arhats, each bearing golden cinnabar sand (jindan sha). Scattered on the ground it turns into hollow ground to trap the monster, yet still they do not succeed.

Following the Buddha’s counsel, they go to Lihen Heaven—where the Supreme Lord Laojun dwells in Daoist lore—and learn the monster is the Green Bull and the white ring Laojun’s Diamond Bracelet, which can subdue demons. A boy who tends the ox had fallen asleep; the Green Bull stole the bracelet and descended to make trouble. Laojun still had a plantain fan that was not stolen. The scripture says that if the fan had been stolen too, even Laojun would have been at a loss.

After the boy tending the ox fell asleep, the Green Ox stole the Diamond Bracelet (Jinguo) and descended to the human realm to wreak havoc. Laojun still kept the Plantain Fan (Bajiao Shan); had the fan been stolen as well, even Laojun would have been at a loss. When Laojun fanned the Green Ox with the Plantain Fan, the ox’s whole body went slack and its sinews and bones went numb, and it revealed its true form. Laojun then threaded the Diamond Bracelet through the ox’s nose and brought it under control.

In this reading, the ring or circle stands for Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) and also for “Zhong”—the Center. Taiji is the empty, formless ground of being, highest and without peer; the ten thousand things all arise from it, so it can take in all things and nothing can overcome it. The Buddha’s golden cinnabar sand (jindansha) is likewise a body of emptiness, which is why it can be scattered on the ground and vanish into nothing. The Plantain Fan symbolizes true Yin; only true Yin can restrain true Yang.

“Tathagata” (Rulai) means neither coming from anywhere nor going anywhere—it images the vacuum that has no coming or going. Only from emptiness can wisdom arise, so one can see a demon’s true face; only in emptiness can the elixir coalesce, which is why the golden cinnabar sand comes from the Tathagata’s treasury. Genuine cinnabar can augment strength—that is, it symbolizes true Yang. Threading the Diamond Bracelet through the ox’s nose at the end shows that the “medicine” (yao, the alchemical agent) can open the mysterious aperture (xuankou)—the inner pivotal opening in cultivation—and that is precisely the meaning of “Center.”

Every line in Journey to the West carries allegory. When Tang Sanzang later threads the Diamond Bracelet through the ox’s nose, it again means that the medicine gives rise to the mysterious aperture—the meaning of “Center.”

Every line in Journey to the West carries symbolic meaning. When Tang Sanzang and his companions cross the Tongtian River (Heaven-Reaching River), they ride on the back of an old soft-shell turtle (yuan). The turtle is white, and its body is shaped like a large lid or cover. “Cover” (gai) stands for the “yuan” of Qian Yuan and Kun Yuan. They thread a rope through the turtle’s nose, as if putting a bridle on it; the character mian (continuous, unbroken) suggests something that goes on without end. Breath naturally exits through the nose, while the primordial spirit (yuanshen) is settled there—this is precisely the meaning of xinxi xiangyi (heart-mind and breath mutually depending).

When Sun Wukong is trapped inside the belly of the Azure Lion demon, he says he has passed through Guangdong and brought a folding pot that can be set on a “three-pronged bone” to stew offal; he then thrusts the Golden-Hoop Staff upward through the crown of his head, opening a hole that serves both as a skylight and as a flue. Here the “three-pronged bone” refers to the Yinqiao yiqiao (the single aperture of the Yin Heel Vessel—a critical pass in Neidan internal alchemy). It connects with the xuanqiao (mysterious aperture) above, forming two “middle” (zhong) points, one above and one below. The “skylight” opened by the Golden-Hoop Staff stands for the Chongmai (Penetrating Vessel) opening outward into outer emptiness.

Around the Yinqiao yiqiao, the eight extraordinary vessels and nine meridians encircle; it also connects with the xuanqiao above. Yinqiao is the mingdi (root of life); the xuanqiao is the xinggen (root of nature). When nature (xing) and life (ming) are cultivated together and the upper and lower apertures are linked, that is zhenyi (true intent). The meeting of the zi and wu hours is called huohou (timing of the “fire”). Setting the stove on the “three-pronged bone” and using the Golden-Hoop Staff to open the “skylight” for venting smoke symbolizes applying the fire work, activating the “living zi” and “living wu,” so that qi flows through as one. The meaning these images convey is quite plain.

Nature (xing) is originally empty and void; at the moment one receives Heaven’s mandate, nature dwells within the body. Later, shishen (the discriminating, thinking consciousness) takes its place, and it withdraws and hides outside the body—so the luminous essence is obscured and seems to lie “outside the body.” The phrase “Grandfather Sun on the outside” (Sun Wai Gong) likewise points to this xing that appears outside the body.

The boundless space between heaven and earth—the great void—is called “that” (bi); the bardo—the transitional state between death and rebirth—is called “self” (wo). “Nature” (xing) means one’s original nature; “emotion” (qing) means emotional cognition (qingshi). Some people do not understand these terms and assume “that” and “self” simply mean other people and oneself, and so they misread them as referring to sexual relations between men and women. In fact, when Daoist scriptures and Buddhist sutras use “self” and “that,” they often have nothing to do with gender: “self” stands for emotional cognition, while “that” stands for original nature.

The void has no fixed shape, so it is named “that”; “self” is the substance of the void, so “that” in relation to “self” likewise denotes the void. Within the human body there is also a region of void, called “that.” It is this void that allows a fetus to form and the bardo to enter it. The bardo within emotional cognition is the master of the body; the void corresponding to original nature is also the master of “self”; and relative to the root behind both of these masters, one again speaks of “that.” Later writers, fearing misunderstanding, added the character for “home” (jia) beneath “that,” calling it “that home” (bijia).

The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) says: “Such a supreme treasure every household has, yet fools cannot fully recognize it.” It also says: “Every person has a ‘home home.’” The human body is a solid entity; only the void can contain it. Everyone has a bodily “home,” and within each body there is void. My “home” is the void inside my body—the empty aperture at the crown of the head (the hollow within the head)—which belongs to the lesser void; “that home” is the void corresponding to “that,” namely the great void between heaven and earth. Here both “my home” and “that home” refer to void. Later readers again misread “that home” as meaning a woman.

Li Xian Hanxu explained it most clearly: “That home is originally empty in essence; through me it becomes solid; that home is originally void; through me it becomes full.” Whoever grasps these two lines can see how “that home” here relates to the void.

When Qian and Kun intersect and Zi and Wu meet, this appears as the joining of Metal and Wood—that is, the joining of Wu earth and Ji earth. The single line in the Li trigram belongs to Ji earth and stands for one’s own earth; “wood cinnabar” (mu gong) is likewise one’s own earth. Place Ji earth in empty space and seek Wu earth, which is the line in the Kan trigram. Kan stands for emptiness and non-being; from non-being arises being, producing this line of Wu earth—this is true lead (zhen qian).

True lead, Wu earth, arises from empty space, comes to the xuanqiao (the key site in neidan where yin and yang meet), and joins with Ji earth; the two earths then combine into “gui.” Lead also belongs to Metal, namely Qian Metal, so the name “daogui” (knife-gui) is borrowed from Qian Metal. Daoists call the medicinals used in refinement and nurturing “daogui”; the name comes from this meaning.

“Nine returns and seven reversions” (jiu huan qi fan) describes the union of inner and outer yin and yang: inwardly, fire and water meet—that is, Kan and Li intersect; outwardly, Qian and Kun meet—that is, Wu earth and Ji earth harmonize. This union is called true intent (zhen yi); true intent is also the true embryo (zhen tai). Once true intent is established, true breath (zhen xi) takes form as well. Ordinary consciousness corresponds to ordinary breathing; true intent corresponds to true breath.

In the Journey to the West allegory, Tang Sanzang rides a dragon-horse; the dragon-horse symbolizes true breath. Guanyin has the local spirit bring a saddle; the saddle symbolizes true intent. True breath and true intent must not part for an instant. Sha Wujing also symbolizes true intent—he carries the eight-treasure staff, which symbolizes true breath. Wujing never leaves the staff, and the dragon-horse never leaves the saddle—both illustrate that mind and breath depend on each other.

Within the xuanqiao there is a mass of gentle qi—this is true intent; the true breath in the belly opens and closes in alternation.

Without and within, there is one yin and one yang each—two heavens and earths, four yin-yangs. Within the body are post-heaven yin and yang; outside the body are pre-heaven yin and yang—hence “four yin-yangs.”

The heaven and earth within the body take the crown as heaven and the abdomen as earth. The heaven and earth outside the body take the great void (Tai Xu—the boundless empty expanse) as the ding and the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) as the lu. That too is one heaven and earth. In truth, ding is lu and lu is ding; the so-called ding is no fixed, solid ding, and the so-called lu is no fixed, solid lu. Master Wu Zhen said: “Originally there is no ding in the ding, and the lu is not a real jade lu.” From this one line the point is clear.

Cultivators speak of two kinds of “center”: true intent (Zhen Yi) and true breath (Zhen Xi). Within true breath is a center with a fixed place: as embryonic breathing (Tai Xi—the subtle breath of practice) opens and closes, it does so about one inch and three tenths below the navel—“facing the navel wheel behind the kidneys, between them a true golden ding”—this is “center with a fixed place.”

True intent dwells neither inside nor outside, between inner void and outer void, now rising now falling, circulating within a certain range—hence “center without fixed place.” Yet where vertical and horizontal meet, a position can still be indicated; though it has no fixed spot, there is still somewhere it can settle. Above and below, before and behind, all lie within the range of true intent’s activity, and they connect through and through.

Yan Hui said: “Gaze up at it—it grows higher; drill into it—it grows harder; it seems in front, then suddenly it seems behind.” (Analects, Zilun) That is: looking up, it is vast without limit; looking down, it is so fine it seems to have no inside.

Between above and below, front and back, and left and right, there is a “center” (zhong). This is the “center without a fixed place”—a midpoint that has no fixed position. Once you fix a spot and take your stand there, it becomes a definite location; so although this “center” has no fixed whereabouts, it is not utterly without any locus at all.

The Great Learning says: “What you dislike in those above when they deal with those below, do not do to those below; what you dislike in those below when they serve those above, do not do when serving those above. What you dislike in those in front, do not apply to those behind; what you dislike in those behind, do not apply to those in front; what you dislike in those on the right, do not apply to those on the left; what you dislike on the left, do not apply to those on the right. This is called the way of square and compass.” Here “square and compass” (guiju) means the square and the circle—the rule for measuring square and round. The text uses this to show that between above and below, front and back, and left and right, the character for “center” is implicit. This matches what The Yellow Court Classic (Huangting jing, a Daoist text on inner visualization and nurturing life) says.

The Yellow Court Classic says: “Above is the hun-soul; below is Guanyuan; on the left is Lesser Yang (Shaoyang); on the right is Lesser Yin (Taiyin); behind is the hidden gate (mihu); in front is the gate of life (shengmen).” Between the lines of these lines too lies the character “center.” Readers may reflect on this for themselves; all such statements point to a “center” that has no fixed position.

Lecture Seventeen

Spirit and Qi, Essence and Intention, Body and Heart

When the Three Families Meet, True Gold Is Refined

What is meant by “when the three families meet” refers to the small heavenly circuit (xiao zhoutian)—a cultivation process often described through the inner circulation of qi. What is meant by “nine returns and seven reversals” (jiu huan qi fan) likewise speaks of the three families meeting.

What is called “the three families meeting” refers specifically to the small heavenly circuit (a stage in neidan practice when qi circulates through the body). What “nine returns and seven reversals” describes is precisely this meeting of the three families. The Yuhuang Jing (Scripture of the Jade Sovereign) names spirit (Shen), qi, and essence (Jing) the three treasures, and also calls them the three grades; when the three grades are harmonized and united, it is called “gathering the three and returning to one.” The “three families” spoken of here are not these three grades.

Since they are called “families,” each contains more than one item. The three families are the inner, outer, and middle: within the body, water and fire unite—one family; outside the body, metal and wood unite—one family; in the middle, wu earth and ji earth unite—one family. Within the three families are six things: water, fire, metal, wood, and wu earth and ji earth. Water and fire each belong to yin and yang and pair with each other; metal and wood likewise each belong to yin and yang and pair with each other; wu earth and ji earth are also one yin and one yang, joining with each other.

According to the logic of the Hetu (River Chart), the three of the east plus the two of the south make five, forming one family: the three of the east stand for nature (xing), the two of the south stand for spirit (Shen); nature is still while spirit is active—they differ, so they combine as one family. The four of the west plus the one of the north make five, forming another family: the four of the west stand for emotion (qing), the one of the north stands for primordial essence (yuan jing); emotion is still while primordial essence is active—they differ, so they combine as one family. Central wu and ji each take the number five and match each other, forming a family on their own. Taken together, these are the three families.

In the south, the number “two” belongs to Fire and corresponds to the Li trigram. The true mercury (zhen gong) at the center of Li belongs to Wood—it is the Wood of the east, also called “Wood within Fire.” The scripture draws on Journey to the West and compares it to Zhu Bajie (Pigsy). The eastern “three” and the southern “two” together form one “treasury” (zang).

In the north, the number “one” belongs to Water and corresponds to the Kan trigram. The true lead (zhen qian) at the center of Kan belongs to Metal—it is the Metal of the west, also called “Metal within Water.” The scripture compares it to Sun Wukong (the Monkey King). The northern “one” and the western “four” together form one treasury. Wu and Ji belong to true Earth and correspond to Sha Wujing (Sandy); the central “two” and “five” together form one treasury. When the three groups—east, south, north and west, and the center—join, they make the complete “Tang Sanzang” (Three Treasures of Tang).

The true lead formed from the northern one and western four comes from outside; the true mercury formed from the eastern three and southern two arises within. Wu and Ji sit in the central palace (zhong gong); the true intent (zhen yi)—the mind in practice that harmonizes and gathers—mediates between the two, so true intent is also called the “Yellow Matchmaker” (huang po), like a go-between who brings true lead and true mercury together in the central palace. The eastern three is Yang and the southern two is Yin; the northern one is Yang and the western four is Yin; Wu is Yang Earth and Ji is Yin Earth.

These numbers and directions also correspond to nature (xing), emotion (qing), spirit (shen), essence (jing), and intent (yi). Nature pairs with spirit, emotion with essence, and Wu with Ji form their own pair—three pairs in all. Each pair of Yin and Yang joining is like a household, hence the name “Three Families” (san jia); each family has one Yin and one Yang. Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth were originally the Five Phases (wuxing); after pairing they are reduced to three families; when the three families meet, three return to one. The return from three to one depends entirely on true intent’s mediation: external true lead and internally generated true mercury must unite in the central palace and form another pair before the elixir (dan) can be achieved.

Therefore true lead is called the “White-Faced Young Lord,” true mercury the “Green-Robed Woman,” and true intent the “Yellow Matchmaker.” The Yellow Matchmaker acts as matchmaker so that inner and outer true lead and true mercury become one—this is the “way of uniting inner and outer,” also called “the meeting of the three families.”

Understanding Reality (Wuzhen) says: “Such supreme treasure every household has.” Here “household” means a pair formed by Yin and Yang joining; only when Yin and Yang unite is there generation—it does not mean isolated Yin or Yang alone in the body. After the three families gather in the “Central Yellow Spirit Chamber” (zhong huang shen shi—the locus of practice in the central palace and Yellow Court region), essence, qi, and spirit within naturally merge into one. This too is called “the meeting of the three families,” and also “nine returns and seven reversions” (jiu huan qi fan)—language in internal alchemy (neidan) for the union and refinement of Yin-Yang medicines back to unity.

The outer medicine is lead; the inner medicine is mercury. When inner and outer unite, it is called “two earths forming the jade tablet” (er tu cheng gui). True lead is the one Yang within the Kan trigram, called Wu Earth; true mercury is the one Yin within the Li trigram, called Ji Earth. When Wu Earth and Ji Earth unite, the three families become one family. The return from three to one aligns with the principle of change in heaven and earth.

First there was Wuji—the undifferentiated primal origin—and only afterward did Taiji arise, the fundamental state from which the myriad things generate. From “non-being” came “being”: after stillness reached its extreme, the wondrous “One” appeared. This is the one Qi of Taiji; the birth and transformation of all things take it as root, so it is called “ancestral Qi”—also “Taiyi essence-containing Qi.” Taiyi is the Qi of heaven-as-one, stored within water, hence “essence-containing Qi,” also “metal within water” (a Neidan term for true essence-Qi hidden in water).

When movement reaches its extreme it turns to stillness, and yin Qi then arises—forming Liangyi (the two basic modes), with heaven above and earth below. Between heaven and earth is empty, bright, and quiet; within it Taiji is still preserved, one in substance with the true face of Wuji. Thus the three ultimately return to one; that one in turn returns to emptiness. Once the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) take shape, five can return to three and three to one—the crux lies in “hollow center,” the empty void of Wuji and the one Qi of Taiji.

Human cultivation follows the same principle: within the body the key to the Five Phases’ circulation is the true earth of the Central Palace. Earth also means intention—here, a focused mind that does not scatter. The fire phases of practice (timing and measure for harmonizing body, mind, and breath) are entirely regulated by intention in the Central Palace; true intention is clear, bright spirit-awareness. The Wuzhen Pian says: “There is a natural true fire phase—no need for charcoal or blowing.” Cultivation’s fire phases should follow nature, not be forced by external means. If you go against nature, water and fire cannot unite, metal and wood cannot merge, and practice turns deviant. The Cantong Qi says: “What nature does of itself is no crooked or false Way.” The Daodejing says: “Heaven follows the Dao; the Dao follows nature.” To accord with nature is Wuwei (non-action) and nothing left undone.

When the inner mind is empty and bright and you do not contrive, it is like the vast primordial void; then metal, wood, water, and fire in the Central Palace naturally meet and gather—this is acting without forcing. When body and mind do not move rashly, spirit and Qi circulate on their own; only when body and mind release deliberate doing can spirit and Qi truly function. The Wuzhen Pian says: “At first there is doing, yet no one sees it; when Wuwei is reached, then all begin to know.” At first practice involves action, but others do not notice; when the Wuwei stage is reached, onlookers can tell. In the formless and imageless, yin and yang harmonize and the elixir forms—naturally hard to see. Here “Wuwei” means body and mind without forced contrivance; “doing” means the work of spirit and Qi. Because body and mind are Wuwei, spirit and Qi can operate—and that operation is not something others can observe.

Sex, emotion, spirit, essence, and intention each divide into pre-heaven and post-heaven aspects.

In the numerology of the directions, the eastern “three” stands for true nature—that is, pre-heaven true yang qi—which may be called “emptiness.” Within that emptiness lies a subtle kind of real presence, so it belongs entirely to what is pre-heaven within the pre-heaven. The southern “two” stands for the original spirit (yuanshen), which is likewise pre-heaven. The western “four” stands for emotion: at conception, the union of male and female desire with spirit gives rise to temperament-nature (the qi-formed nature). The northern “one” stands for original essence (yuanjing), which is pre-heaven within the post-heaven. Thus the northern “one” and the western “four” both belong to the pre-heaven side of the post-heaven realm. The central pair, the wu and ji earths, represent pre-heaven and post-heaven respectively.

In someone who still has an intact “child body”—one who has not yet lost vital essence—nature and spirit unite on the pre-heaven level; emotion and essence unite as pre-heaven within post-heaven; and intention bridges post-heaven with pre-heaven. That is the situation of the child body. Once the body has been “broken” and one then cultivates the Way, the picture changes: the true nature symbolized by the eastern “three” withdraws into deep silence and no longer shows itself; the original spirit symbolized by the southern “two” turns into the discriminating spirit (shishen—the mind of distinction and deliberation), so both nature and spirit shift into the post-heaven. When Kun’s yuan emotion (the yin, earth-related force) rises to meet Qian (the yang, heaven-related force), pre-heaven nature is concealed, the discriminating spirit takes the lead, and emotion is effectively absorbed into nature. Emotion and essence, as pre-heaven within post-heaven, change accordingly; only the wu and ji still stand for pre-heaven and post-heaven without alteration.

The first seven chapters of Journey to the West symbolize cultivation in the child body, so the path is relatively smooth. From chapter fourteen, “Two Boundaries Mountain,” to the end, the work symbolizes cultivation after the body has been broken, and therefore the path is arduous. Sun Wukong stands for true yang—that is, pre-heaven nature; Zhu Bajie stands for the nature of appetite and sexual desire, which is pre-heaven within post-heaven.

The Buddhist scriptures say that human beings are born from the union of their parents’ sexual desire, and therefore the body carries desire within it. Zhu Bajie’s greed for wine and lust symbolizes the one true nature (benlai qingming de lingxing—the originally clear spiritual nature) mistakenly entering a pig’s womb, so that true nature is obscured by the shishen (the ordinary mind swayed by desire and wandering thoughts).

What is meant by “breaking through the body to cultivate the Dao” (poti xiuzhen) is to begin cultivation from the tangible physical body. True yang (xianyang—the prenatal yang qi) from the void must be brought into the body so that shishen is transformed into yuanshen (the authentic spirit); only after sustained quiet sitting and entering samadhi does zhenyi (single-minded, genuine intention) arise and form a zhentai (the inner foundation condensed in practice). That is why Sha Wujing, in Journey to the West, stands for someone who achieves only late in cultivation. One must first complete the “nine returns” (jiuhuan) before one can perform the “seven reversals” (qifan), thereby obtaining the zhonggong zhenyi (true intention of the middle palace) and keeping intention from scattering; such is the order of practice.

Zhu Bajie was born in the Cloud-Stack Cave (Yunzhan Dong) on Blessing Mound Mountain (Fuling Shan). “Blessing Mound” signifies that a trace of true nature is a person’s blessing; Blessing Mound Mountain is also Zhuling Prefecture. The mouth of Cloud-Stack Cave is sealed shut, symbolizing true nature veiled by food and by the desires of men and women—hence the image of “cloud stack.”

Sun Wukong was born on Flower-and-Fruit Mountain (Huaguo Shan), which symbolizes the xianyuan yuanshi zu qi (primordial ancestral qi before heaven and earth), from which the ten thousand things arise. Beneath the Water-Curtain Cave (Shuilian Dong) lies an iron bridge, alluding to “gold within water” (shuizhong jin)—a standard image in neidan (internal alchemy) discourse.

“Spirit-Platform Heart-Inch Mountain” (Lingtai Cunfang Shan) refers to the spirit platform and the heart-inch domain; in “Slanting Moon Three Stars Cave” (Xieyue Sanxing Dong), the three “stars” together form the character for “heart” (xin)—meaning the original mind, not the physical heart. “Slanting Moon Three Stars” is also called the “Slanting Moon Furnace” (yanyue lu): the slanting moon stands for the small void, the three stars for the heart-inch—that is, the portal. The source text says that by looking at the two illustrations below, one can grasp what “Slanting Moon Three Stars” means.

When Sun Wukong returns from his master to Flower-and-Fruit Mountain, it symbolizes “taking Kan to fill Li” (qukan tianli—in neidan terms, supplementing the yin of the Li trigram with the yang of the Kan trigram). His theft of weapons from the state of Aolai symbolizes the gathering of jinjing (metal essence); obtaining the golden portal from the dragon palace likewise expresses related neidan imagery. The source text refers to the figures below to clarify the meaning of “Slanting Moon Three Stars.”

When Sun Wukong returns from his master to Flower-Fruit Mountain, it symbolizes “drawing from Kan to fill Li”—using the water of the Kan trigram to nourish the fire of the Li trigram. Seizing weapons from the Aolai Kingdom stands for gathering Jing (essence); obtaining the golden cudgel from the Dragon Palace symbolizes the “nine returns,” refining and nurturing Jing so that it turns back. Striking his name from the Register of Life and Death in the underworld means cultivation has succeeded and he is no longer bound by a fixed lifespan.

Being appointed Keeper of the Heavenly Horses (Bimawen) symbolizes the warming and nurturing stage of practice. After the inner elixir (Neidan) has formed, it must still be warmed and tended for a full year before one can undertake major heavenly circuit work. Here “horse” stands for the fire of the Wu hour, while “heavenly horse” stands for the Qian trigram. Being titled “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” (Qitian Dasheng) means the cultivator has reached a state of non-death and shares the longevity of heaven. Only at this stage can the spirit leave the body, which is why the palace of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven has the “Tranquility” and “Calming the Spirit” offices—symbols of settling body and mind and gathering the spirit in stillness.

Disrupting the Peach Banquet and storming the heavenly palace symbolize major heavenly circuit practice. Erlang represents true Yin and Sun Wukong represents true Yang; when true Yin and true Yang meet, neither can prevail decisively. Three heads and six arms symbolize the Qian and Kun trigrams. The Diamond Snare (Jingang zhuo) symbolizes pre-heaven Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); true Yang belongs to pre-heaven primordial Qi (xiantian yi qi) and is of the same kind as Taiji, so it can be taken in by the Diamond Snare and pressed into the Eight Trigrams furnace—this symbolizes the “suckling” (rubu) stage. When the Buddha pins Sun Wukong under Five Phases (Wuxing) Mountain, that symbolizes the “return to emptiness” (huanxu) stage.

The warming and nurturing signified by Bimawen is especially crucial. Once the fetal origin (taiyuan)—the foundation formed in inner alchemy—is established, it must be warmed and nurtured for one year before major heavenly circuit work can begin. That year belongs before the major circuit, not after. In the minor heavenly circuit, the medicine is first generated and then gathered and refined; in the major circuit, it is first gathered and refined and then generated. Only when accumulation is sufficient can the body be transformed into one of pure Yang. After the major circuit, the suckling stage lasts three years; after the minor circuit, one year of warming and nurturing produces the red pearl. After the spirit has gone out, there is still nine years of wall-gazing practice.

The phrases “one year of bathing,” “three years of suckling,” and “nine years facing the wall” use Yang numbers as rough designations. How long practice actually takes depends on each person’s foundation and diligence or slackness—it cannot be fixed by a single rule.

The elixir condensed through practice of the microcosmic orbit (xiaozhoutian) is called the Neidan (internal elixir), also known as the yin elixir. It is placed and stabilized at a point roughly one cun and three fen below the navel. This stage is also called “the great medicine returns to the furnace” (dayao gui lu): once the internal elixir is stable, it circulates within the body like a turning wheel. Taixi (embryonic breathing—the deep, quiet breath state that emerges in practice) naturally opens and closes, like a fetus in the womb; ordinary breathing thereby shifts into taixi. Advancing further through refining Qi to transform Shen, one moves from taixi to true breathing (zhenxi). True breathing means there is no perceptible breath. At that point all six pulses cease entirely; only then can one apply the fire method of the macrocosmic orbit (dazhoutian huohou—the further stage of circulating and refining the internal elixir) and reach the state of chushen (spirit emerging / projection of shen). Completing the internal elixir finishes the work of liaoming (completing the “life” side of xingming shuangxiu, dual cultivation of nature and life).

According to the scripture, once the internal elixir is achieved one can return to youth, with white hair turning dark again; both men and women can attain this. In men the external yang (external genitals) retracts; in women one “slays the red dragon” (zhan chilong)—Tian gui (physiology associated with menstruation) ceases and the body reverts to a maiden-like state—hence the phrase “turning woman into man” (zhuan nü wei nan). The text holds that the male–female distinction lies in Tian gui; once Tian gui stops, there is no difference from men. In men the “horse yin concealed appearance” (ma yin cang xiang—external yang retracted and hidden) appears; in women, slaying the red dragon—both are called taixian (embryo immortal). What the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Classic) calls “qin xin sandie wu taixian” (literally, layered qin-heart dancing the embryo immortal) refers to this realm.

If one can hold the fruits of practice without loss, one may live long without aging and is called a renxian (human immortal). Going further, one becomes a dixian (earth immortal)—an immortal on land. Dixian have power to transform; renxian do not. After forming the internal elixir and becoming a renxian, one must still undergo a year of wenyang (continued nurturing and consolidation of the practice) before reaching dixian. The scripture also says that after a year of wenyang one can live long with clear sight, untouched by illness and unharmed by disaster.

If one does not practice “warm nurturing” (the sustained cultivation of refining essence and qi and tending body and mind), then after sixteen years one will still “break the body” again at the end of five thousand four hundred cycles of the “yellow path of birth”—that is, the cultivated state will be lost. The scripture says a man’s cycle is five thousand four hundred and eighty days, and a woman’s five thousand and forty-eight; after breaking the body again, one is like an ordinary child, the prior cultivation state is gone, and one becomes a common person. Therefore warm nurturing is extremely important; otherwise one can maintain the state for at most fifteen years. After one year of warm-nurturing practice, according to the patterns of natural creation and transformation, one can cease to break the body.

But if the mind is chaotic and cannot hold steady, the fruits of cultivation may still be ruined. The scripture cites the Red Lotus Monk of the Jin dynasty, and also a monk in Zheng Chenggong’s time who feared neither blades nor swords: Zheng Chenggong worried about him and discussed with his officers how to break his technique. A platoon leader (vice commander) said he had a method: he filled a room with courtesans to test the monk. At first the monk sat in meditation unmoved; then the platoon leader had the women chase him naked and copulate with a man in the monk’s sight. The monk suddenly closed his eyes; the platoon leader took this as proof his mind had stirred, struck from behind with a blade, and the monk was beheaded at once. The text uses this to show that even when a cultivator already has some attainment, strong temptation or a sudden situation can still cause failure.

Therefore one must go through a full year of warm nurturing before one can gradually face external circumstances without stirring emotion or seeing beauty without being pulled by it; yet when a particularly shocking event occurs, success may still collapse at the last moment. For that reason one must also cultivate the work of “completing nature” (liao xing) in order to preserve the fruits of practice for long. The scripture calls the “great heavenly circuit” (da zhou tian) the achievement of completing nature; “external medicine” (wai yao) serves completing life (liao ming), while “internal medicine” (nei yao) is tied to completing nature.

Cultivation with external medicine (waidan) stresses prolonging life; cultivation with internal medicine (neidan) stresses nurturing one’s inherent nature. External medicine, when fully refined, becomes the internal elixir (neidan); internal medicine, when fully refined, becomes the external elixir (waidan). Only when the external elixir is complete can one leave the physical body and gain the power of free transformation.

After the internal elixir is finished, it must still be gently nurtured for a year. If one meets a situation where death cannot be avoided—for instance, dying in loyalty or filial duty, or through disaster or treachery—even when the body dies, the primordial spirit (yuan shen) can remain clear and luminous and is not destroyed. Loyal ministers and filial children who die upholding their integrity, or who suffer calamity or hidden harm, if after death the primordial spirit still has mastery, may enter a womb (tou tai) or seize a body (duo she). “Intermediate spirit” (zhong yin) here means the condition after death and before rebirth.

After the body has died, if the primordial spirit still has awareness, it can tell where someone who may cultivate the Dao and become an immortal might be born, and choose rebirth in a family whose ancestors accumulated virtue. When a man and woman unite, if the primordial spirit enters the fetus first, other intermediate spirits can no longer enter that fetus. This is called “entering the womb (tou tai)”—choosing the fetus and entering before others.

“Seizing a body (duo she)” means the primordial spirit, through spiritual perception, knows which virtuous household might produce someone who will cultivate the Dao and attain immortality, and calculates when the fetus will be born. The fetal essence responds to the intermediate spirit; at birth the primordial spirit enters the womb, drives out the original intermediate spirit, and takes the fetal body—this is “duo she.” Only a yin spirit can enter a womb or seize a body. That power is comparatively strong, but in nature it is still yin spirit, which is why this method is possible at all.

Those with an innate spiritual root, after entering a womb or seizing a body, can cultivate the Dao and become immortals in the body of a child; cultivators who attain the Dao in a virgin body generally come about in this way. The great venerable Mahakashyapa of the Western Regions is said to have entered a womb and been reborn into the Xiao clan in the Six Dynasties, which shows that while still in his own land his practice was not yet complete. Shakyamuni said his cultivation spanned seventeen lifetimes and seventeen kalpas, each birth coming through entering a womb or seizing a body.

Anyone who has completed foundation establishment (zhu ji) can enter a womb or seize a body. Together with “remaining in residence” and “transferring abode,” these make the “four kinds of fruit disciples”; in Buddhism, the arhat, srotapanna, sakadagami, and anagamin correspond to these four levels of fruition.

“Old dwelling” refers to a cultivator who has attained the fruit of arhatship; “moving to a new residence” means reviving by borrowing another person’s body after death. The “moving” spoken of here is what happens when someone whose yin spirit cultivation is not yet complete attaches consciousness to another physical body to regain flesh again—like a person moving into a different house.

Immortal Li Tieguai was originally Ningyang Dijun. He had already completed his cultivation and could send out his yin spirit. One day, summoned by the Supreme Lord, he had to leave his body and go out in spirit. He told his disciple to watch over his physical body and said: “If I have not returned in seven days, bury my body.”

On the fifth day, the disciple’s mother fell critically ill. The disciple was worried but, having promised to guard his master’s body, dared not leave. On the sixth day, the disciple’s uncle came and said his mother was gravely ill and urged him to go home. The disciple still would not go. They reckoned the seven days the master had set and thought only eight hours remained—surely the master would not return—so the disciple buried the master’s body and went home.

When Ningyang Dijun returned, he found his body already buried. Outside the cave a beggar had frozen to death; he attached his original spirit to the beggar’s corpse and revived, which is why he ended up with a crippled leg. He went to his disciple’s home and saw the disciple weeping bitterly. He called the disciple by name. Hearing the voice, the disciple said in astonishment: “How can this sound so much like my master!” Ningyang told him he really was the master and asked him to recognize him by the voice. The disciple had buried the master’s body, yet he did not blame him, because he had long foreseen this and the Supreme Lord had told him beforehand. Then Ningyang said he could restore the disciple’s mother to life; he breathed on her once and she revived. The disciple was overjoyed and was convinced that the man before him was his master.

The reason Ning Yang became the Lame Immortal lies precisely here. He first cultivated the yin spirit (yinshen), which already allowed him to ascend to heaven and take part in immortal gatherings such as the Peach Banquet. The Grand Supreme Elderly Lord (Taishang Laojun) had long urged him to switch to cultivating the yang spirit (yangshen). After he became the lame immortal, he went on cultivating the yang spirit and eventually achieved immortality.

All four kinds of practitioners described above had still not reached true fruition (zhenguo). In Buddhist terms they are “śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas,” followers of the lesser vehicle (xiaosheng). They cannot “return to emptiness and merge with the void” (huanxu guikong), so they can only become earth immortals (dishen). Though they may go on to cultivate the yang spirit and become immortals, they cannot display supernormal powers (shentong) on a wide scale or save and deliver many beings; Buddhism therefore calls them “those who save themselves alone” (zileohan)—people who seek only their own liberation. One step further is the bodhisattva, who can manifest supernormal powers, rescue the world, and lead beings to salvation. Celestial immortals (tianxian) are on a par with buddhas in holding the vow to deliver all beings universally; they become “great awakened golden immortals” (dajue jinxian), transcend the three realms (sanjie), and are not destroyed even through countless kalpas. The Grand Supreme Elderly Lord has already passed through seven cycles of primordial chaos (hundun) and still has not been annihilated.

Zhang Sanfeng the Real Person said: “People often say worldly affairs are never finished; to truly settle them, you must leave the world and cultivate the Way—only then can you really bring them to a close.”

If your parents are still alive and you still have weighty duties in life, you may first lay the foundation of practice and complete the first stage of gongfu; when those duties are properly discharged, you can go on to cultivate the “great elixir” (dadan). One who aspires to the Way but does not first establish the foundation (zhuji) risks dying suddenly with no time left.

In life there are three things hard to obtain: first, it is hard to gain a human body; second, it is hard to meet a time and opportunity suited to cultivation. Buddhists often say “the fortune of the Way is hard to encounter”—without such conditions, practice is not easily successful; third, it is hard to meet a true teacher. Because of these three difficulties, you should cultivate promptly and not wait until old age. When old, primordial qi is spent and it is hard to “return the elixir” (huandan—a Neidan term for refining essence, qi, and spirit to restore the prenatal state).

The beginning of cultivation matters most. To establish a preliminary elixir foundation, you must first set aside sixty days. You may start with sleeping gong or sitting gong, practicing six times a day, until you gradually become skilled. What is meant by “pure mastery” is that when gongfu is fully mature, spiritual awareness arises naturally—this is “natural firing” (ziran huohou: the rhythm of practice that forms by itself as mastery deepens, not by forced control). Only when you reach this natural firing can reversal be possible; otherwise it may be because “the water source is not clear”—the root of practice or inner conditions are not yet pure.

At first you often force yourself to persist; later it flows more easily; finally you are calm and at ease. Reaching calm self-possession, the work is comparatively easy to complete. Daoists call this dedicated practice “entering the chamber” (rushi); Buddhists call it “closing the pass” (biguan)—meaning a temporary withdrawal from daily affairs to concentrate on practice. It is best to have this sixty-day foundation first; otherwise cultivation is very difficult. If you cannot enter the chamber, you should at least first quiet the mind within; still, to reach pure mastery generally requires about three years of gongfu.

Reaching full maturity in cultivation takes three years of effort, or at least one year. For that reason, spending the first few months in closed-door retreat, focusing entirely on practice, is the safer approach. If closed retreat is not possible, you must first gather in wandering thoughts until the mind feels as open as empty space. Practicing four or five times a day makes progress easier; each session need only be twenty to thirty minutes. Before you practice, set aside your concerns; after you finish, go on with your other tasks. Lianji (refining the self—cultivating character and gathering body and mind) should be done at least six times a day, roughly once every two hours.

When you practice, you must lay down your worries and quiet both body and mind. After about five minutes of stillness, signs of yangsheng (the stirring of inner yang qi) may appear; after twenty to thirty minutes you may conclude the session. Do not start out diligent and then grow slack. Practice often each day, but while sitting keep the spirit lively and clear. Only with frequent sessions does the work gradually become natural.

At first you may not yet forget thoughts naturally; then you must first restrain stray thoughts. If thoughts arise and you cannot stop them, pause your practice—you must gather them in before you continue. If thoughts keep rising during sitting, forcing yourself to practice will not help; only when the mind has settled and no longer generates thoughts is it right to apply effort.

How to reach full maturity depends on your own experience; no one else can do it for you. What is called huiwu (insight or realization) is when, during practice, the heart does not cling to affairs, yet you do not deliberately chase a blank void. It is like having just woken in the morning: nothing is on your mind, and you are not thinking “I have no thoughts.” When you know this state of no-mind and no-thought, yang qi will stir on its own; progress is simply slow and needs day-by-day accumulation, so it often takes one year, or even three.

To become fully mature you must also gradually build up “gold” and qi—terms in neidan (internal alchemy) for the inner foundation required for the work. When there is “gold” in the belly, skill is easier to ripen. The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) says: “If you do not know that refining lead must first fill the belly, I teach you to guard and gather the hall full of gold.” That is: without first establishing the foundation in the belly, there is no point in speaking of refining lead; you should guard and accumulate the inner essence.

“Returning to emptiness” (huan xu) is the process of accumulating jing and qi as one’s practice deepens step by step—it is the cultivation method of “emptying the mind and filling the belly” (xu xin shi fu). “Emptying the mind and filling the belly” is likewise the work of returning to the original source. “One as true emptiness and two as wonderful existence” are linked to each other; this is precisely what it means to subdue one’s own mind. How can one subdue one’s own mind? The Diamond Sutra (Jingang jing) explains this most fully, so the next session will continue with the Diamond Sutra, which may make these points easier to grasp.

Lecture 18: To subdue one’s own mind, one must first subdue the “four marks” (attachment to a fixed self and to things as inherently real).

The Diamond Prajna [Sutra] is about keeping the true gold and discarding the ore—that is, through cultivating the prajna wisdom taught in the Diamond Sutra, removing impurities and revealing one’s true nature.

How to settle in the original mind and how to subdue the mind is truly hard to put into words. Even thousands upon thousands of words might not make it clear. Having a mind is not the Dao, and having no mind is not the Dao either; not clinging to being and not clinging to non-being—that is the real meaning. The mind is present yet leaves no trace; it seems absent yet is not wholly absent, as if there were a solid strand of true intent, gathered and unyielding, neither dispersing nor lost, showing a state of chaotic depth. Master Qiu said: “If you grasp the secret of mindlessness, you know you can surely become a Great Luo immortal (the high immortal of Daoist tradition).” To wipe out the mind entirely is the same as death—that will not do. Here there is a genuine secret: one must keep it lively yet empty-quiet, only then can one reach chaotic depth; that is Yuan Shen (the innate spirit spoken of in cultivation). If the mind becomes too rigid and dead, would it not mean that when Shi Shen (the acquired, discriminating mind) is extinguished, Yuan Shen is extinguished with it?

The measure between being and non-being, light and heavy, must be felt in fine detail. The saying “seeing the mind is seeing Buddha” applies only when one is in a chaotic state can one see the original mind. The Book of Documents says: “The human mind is precarious; the mind of the Dao is subtle. With refinement and singleness, hold sincerely to the center.” That is: the human mind easily swerves; the mind of the Dao is hard to discern; only with focused purity and oneness can one honestly hold the mean. “The human mind is precarious” means that once you fix on “having a mind,” you have the easily swayed human mind; “the mind of the Dao is subtle” means that only by releasing attachment to the human mind can the mind of the Dao appear. Over-heavy use of mind is the human mind; the mind of the Dao is extremely subtle, while the human mind is extremely prone to danger. Between precarious and subtle you must feel your way finely, achieve “holding sincerely to the center” (yun zhi jue zhong), and keep refinement and singleness. Here “refinement” means fineness; feel it in what is subtle and fine, and with utmost sincerity, unity, and caution—only then can you truly hold the center.

As for the method of cultivating “holding the center,” cultivators speak of both “center” and “one” in the person. The Daodejing says: “Obtain the One, and the ten thousand things flourish.”

There is also a distinction between “Center” (zhong) and “One” (yi). Take the pit of a peach or a plum: it is formed from two halves, which respectively symbolize Yin and Yang. Between the two halves is a gap, and at the center of this gap there is a slight swelling—that swelling is the true “Center.” Within this empty space dwells a single strand of Qi (the primordial Qi spoken of in Daoism); without this Qi, life cannot arise.

The “Center” contains “One.” Confucius said: “My Way is threaded together by one fundamental principle.” Here “Center” refers to emptiness, and “One” refers to being: the Center is true emptiness, and the One is the primordial true Qi (the primordial authentic Qi of Daoism). Only emptiness can endlessly give birth and transform; only the One can endlessly sprout and grow. If there is One but no emptiness, there is no place for it to rest.

Nature (one’s original nature) is true emptiness, within which subtle “being” is contained; life (one’s vitality and living force) is subtle “being,” within which true emptiness is again contained. If you grasp the method of no-mind (the practice of returning thought to quiet emptiness), you can apprehend the true meaning of emptiness. From true emptiness alone can subtle being arise: the discriminating, thinking consciousness of the acquired mind (postnatal consciousness of distinction and deliberation) subsides and returns to chaos, as when heaven and earth had not yet been opened. At that stage, it is true emptiness—and only then can true Yang be generated. True Yang, though aroused from empty void, is void that the practitioner deliberately cultivates; the single breath of Qi that responds to this gives birth to true Yang. Without true emptiness, subtle being cannot arise; true Yang is precisely subtle being.

The acquired body and mind are hard to bring to empty stillness, so the heart-mind must be subdued—like taming the dragon and the tiger, which shows how difficult it is. What follows uses the Diamond Sutra to explain this point.

“Thus have I heard” means: such is the teaching—I heard it directly from the Buddha. The scripture says that the Tathagata (an honorific for the Buddha) was staying in the Jeta Grove with twelve hundred and fifty great bhikkhus (fully ordained monks). At that time the Buddha was about to eat. Buddhist monks go out to receive alms; there is a practice of going from house to house in turn. “Having finished begging in order” means they returned with food after begging in sequence. After the meal, the Buddha washed his feet—because dust clings to the feet when going out for alms—before preparing to teach.

Subhuti (one of the Buddha’s disciples) bared his right shoulder, rose, and said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, how rare this is.” “Rare” here expresses praise: the World-Honored One is hard to encounter and worthy of reverence.

The heart of this sutra lies in arousing the mind of anuttara-samyak-sambodhi—the aspiration for unsurpassed, perfect, complete enlightenment. “Bodhi” is awakening; “samyak” means perfect or equal; “anuttara” means unsurpassed. Subhuti praises the World-Honored One for skillfully protecting and caring for bodhisattvas and for good men and good women, then asks: how does one arouse the mind of unsurpassed perfect enlightenment? After that aspiration is raised, how should one abide in it, and how should one subdue the mind?

Unsurpassed perfect enlightenment spoken of here is luminous awakening—naturally inherent, utmost good, and unsurpassed in its awakened nature. Human thoughts shift without rest, like a dragon—hard to grasp. In a poem by Wang Wei of the Tang, there is the line “In seated meditation, taming the poison dragon,” using the poison dragon as a figure for thoughts that must be disciplined. The tiger stands for wild, fierce force. How can a restless, ever-changing mind cease its scattering? How can a fierce, impulsive mind be calmed? This is an inward matter: only by subduing thoughts can one abide in right awakening. What is meant by “should abide” is abiding in the mind of samyak-sambodhi; and how to arouse that mind of perfect enlightenment and keep it dwelling steadily—this is precisely what the sutra goes on to explore.

Although a person may have already lost their innate nature and fallen into a state dominated by the post-heaven conscious mind (shishen—the activity of discriminating thought and reflection), they sometimes still give rise to a heart-mind intent on returning to the origin; yet that intent often vanishes in a flash and cannot last. “Abiding” (zhu) means letting this intent settle and remain stable for a long time. The Buddha replies: “One should abide thus; subdue the mind in just this way.” “Thus” (rushi) refers to this heart-mind of returning to the origin. Beyond this, there is truly no other wording that can describe it accurately, so the answer uses “thus” (rushi).

What “thus” points to is the mind I originally possess. The original mind relied upon to attain anuttara-samyak-sambodhi—the Buddha’s complete awakening—is inherently present in everyone; it is only obscured by shishen and therefore cannot appear. When one realizes one’s true nature (mingxin jianxing), the original mind naturally reveals itself; subduing the mind and abiding in the original mind should likewise be natural and spontaneous. If one forcibly suppresses thoughts on purpose, the inner mind is already obstructed; even if there is some awakening, it is not right awakening, because the heart is no longer unobstructed.

A mind free of all clinging is the original mind; awareness that does not fall into discriminating consciousness is right awakening. The substance is still and silent, all thoughts cease—the Daoist tradition calls this state the “samadhi of total cessation” (miejin ding). Only after thoughts are extinguished can one enter great samadhi (da ding). In meditation practice, the first dhyana is abiding in thought, the second is abiding in breath, the third is abiding in pulse-breath—that is, when the six pulses no longer manifest. Breath and thought depend on each other: when thought abides, wandering thoughts no longer arise in profusion; when breath abides and ceases, true breath (zhenxi) is established. When both breath and pulse-breath have ceased, there is no-thought and emptiness.

“All sentient beings” includes those born from eggs, moisture, wombs, and transformation, as well as those with form and without form, with thought and without thought, and even those neither with thought nor entirely without thought. The Buddha leads all of them to return their thoughts to still emptiness.

“All sentient beings”—whether born from eggs, moisture, wombs, or transformation; whether with form or without form; whether with thought, without thought, or neither with thought nor without thought—the Buddha enables them all to enter “nirvana without remainder” (the state of complete quiescence, free from the pull of birth and death) and attain liberation. This refers to the “extinction absorption” (a meditative state in which all deluded thoughts and mental activity cease). The scripture also says: “Having thus delivered all sentient beings, in truth not a single sentient being was delivered.” For beings are not extinguished by the Buddha on their behalf; each awakens and liberates themselves.

Nirvana is the realm of neither arising nor ceasing—namely, the original nature before conditioning. When countless beings enter nirvana and preserve this unborn, undying nature, it is not that the Tathāgata has some separate method to extinguish them for others; they cultivate and liberate themselves.

The Surangama Sutra records that Ānanda, in danger, was trapped in a demoness’s chamber of lust and his precepts were nearly ruined. After the Buddha rescued him, Ānanda wept upon seeing him. The Buddha told him: “You have not yet attained the power that exhausts outflows (the capacity to cut off afflictions and be free from birth and death)—that is why you met this calamity.” Ānanda cried that he was the Tathāgata’s beloved younger brother, deeply protected by him, and had thought the Buddha’s entire teaching had been transmitted to him; he never imagined he had not yet exhausted afflictions and almost stumbled—he felt deeply disappointed.

Yet in practice one must first still the restless discriminating mind; the crux is to see one’s original mind and true nature oneself—no one else can do it for you. Why say no sentient being is extinguished by another? Because to save others, one must first be liberated oneself; to do that, one must remove the “four notions” (notion of self, of person, of sentient being, and of life span). Removing the four notions is likewise something no one can do for you. If the Buddha were said to extinguish beings on their behalf, it would be as if the Buddha still clung to the four notions; sentient beings must liberate themselves before they can be free of clinging to the four notions. This is “subduing the mind”—subduing deluded thoughts and removing the four notions.

What people cling to most easily is the notion of self; the other three notions are relatively lighter. The Laozi says: “Look inward at the mind—the mind has no mind”: that is not clinging to the notion of self; “Look outward at the form—the form has no form”: that is not clinging to the notion of person; “Look far at things—things have no thing”: that is not clinging to the notion of sentient being. After these three notions are removed, one must also remove the notion of life span—that is, attachment to life, longevity, and the process of cultivation. When all four notions are gone, the mind is naturally subdued; otherwise one cannot arise the “mind of supreme, perfect enlightenment” (bodhicitta—the resolve for unsurpassed complete awakening).

After breaking free of the four marks, the text goes on to discuss giving. When a bodhisattva gives, they should not cling to the mark of form; toward the inner six sense faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) and the outer six sense objects (form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects), they should not cling, yet still practice giving. Giving is doing good and accumulating merit; if one does not cling to marks when giving, the merit gained is immeasurable.

To break the four marks is for the mind not to cling; when the mind does not cling, there is no fixed mark to hold to. Merit that comes from non-clinging is true merit. The Buddha asked Subhuti: “Do you think space can be measured? Can the space in the four directions and above and below be measured?” Space is vast and boundless and cannot be measured; when a bodhisattva gives without clinging to marks, the merit gained is likewise immeasurable, like space.

The bodhisattva’s mind should abide thus: not clinging to any mark, abiding in marklessness in the way the Buddha teaches. So-called “abiding in marklessness” is not fixating on some definite place, but abiding within non-clinging; such abiding in non-clinging is true abiding. Concentration without a fixed object is great concentration; “abiding” means the mind settles and becomes steady. One should practice in this way and break through all kinds of clinging.

The Buddha asked Subhuti again: “Can the Tathagata be seen by the physical marks of the body?” Subhuti replied: “The Tathagata cannot be seen by the physical marks of the body.” The bodily marks of the Tathagata spoken of here are not a visible outer appearance. Whatever can be perceived as a fixed form is illusory; everything in heaven and earth that has form cannot be taken as real and unchanging. The Tathagata has no coming or going and cannot be defined by a formed appearance; only by not clinging to marks can one see the Tathagata. Here “marks” also include various dharmic marks—the forms in which things and the teaching appear.

The scripture unfolds step by step from the four marks through the six faculties and six objects, showing that no mark should be clung to. As long as the mind still clings to any mark at all, it cannot accord with anuttara-samyak-sambodhi (supreme, perfect enlightenment).

Subhuti asked the Buddha, “Can any sentient beings give rise to faith?” The Buddha answered, “You must not state it in such absolute terms. In the five hundred years to come, there will be people who keep the precepts and cultivate the path. That shows that through innumerable rebirths they have planted roots of goodness before countless Buddhas; only then can reverence and trusting acceptance arise. Otherwise it would be very hard. The Tathāgata knows and sees all of this: whoever can give rise to faith in these words gains immeasurable merit.”

To believe these words means no longer holding to the ideas of ordinary person, self, sentient being, or lifespan, and also not holding to “marks of dharma” (grasping at the teaching and its forms) or “marks of non-dharma” (treating even non-attachment to dharma as something to grasp). The scripture adds that the notions of person, self, and the like count as real marks, while marks of dharma are empty marks. In practice, whatever forms appear in cultivation, and whatever notions of self, sentient being, lifespan, and so on arise, should not be clung to. Forms seen in cultivation belong to empty marks—that is, marks of dharma. “Marks of non-dharma” means not clinging to various forms. If one deliberately tells oneself, “I do not cling to marks,” one has already clung to “marks of non-dharma.”

Why? Sentient beings suppose that as long as they mentally shut out forms, they are free of clinging, but the moment a thought stirs, clinging is already there. Only when one does not deliberately divide and does not grasp can one speak of non-clinging. Clinging to marks of dharma falls into discriminations such as person and self. Clinging to empty marks is still clinging to real marks. Clinging to marks of non-dharma likewise falls into the four notions of person, self, sentient being, and lifespan. Marks come from the mind; once the mind moves, it is no different from clinging to marks. Hence one should see marks yet not cling to marks. Whether dharma or what is not dharma, nothing should be held to.

What the Buddha teaches is like a raft for crossing a river: after the crossing, even the raft should be left behind—how much more what is not the Dharma. That is why it is said that though the Buddha taught the Dharma for forty-nine years, in truth he did not utter a single word. In Journey to the West, bringing back the wordless scriptures makes sense on the same grounds; the worry was simply that people in the Eastern Land might not understand, so they still need to know what “not a single word was spoken” means.

Subhuti, what do you think? Has my Buddha attained “samyaksambodhi”—supreme, perfect enlightenment? Is my Buddha here expounding the Dharma?” Subhuti replied: “There is no fixed Dharma by which samyaksambodhi can be attained; since there is no fixed Dharma to be attained, there is likewise no fixed Dharma that can be spoken.” The Dharma cannot be grasped, nor can one cling to words about it. What is spoken, if it is not a fixed teaching to be seized, is precisely the Dharma itself. Therefore both Buddha and immortals take “no character” as their method: the mind does not fix on anything.

“Within the method of non-action there are still distinctions” means that the root of cultivation lies solely in the character “non-” (wu, nothingness), yet the timing and measure of practice—the fire phases of refinement—still differ. The phrase “taking non-action as the method” already makes this clear. Those who cultivate should take mindlessness as the foundation; the merit of mindlessness is greatest. Here “mindlessness” means not clinging and not deliberately seeking gain—it is not the absence of awareness.

The Buddha asked Subhuti: “If one gave away in charity enough of the seven treasures to fill three thousand great thousand-worlds, would the merit be great?” Subhuti answered: “Very great.” The sutra goes on to say that merit is not a real thing one can grasp; if one seeks merit intentionally, what is gained counts as little. Yet if someone upholds this sutra and explains it to others, his merit surpasses that of giving away the seven treasures to fill three thousand great thousand-worlds.