《体真山人真诀语录》

To preserve the body, give priority to keeping Shen (spirit) present and nurturing Qi (vital energy). Just as a tree’s roots must be tended and protected, Shen and Qi are the body’s foundation. The Qi says, “Nurture and tend the root of life; gather Shen to form the body.” This is what the passage means. The “root of life” refers to the foundation of vitality. To care for it, simply settle the mind and spirit, allowing them to return to the Qi cavity—the place within the body where Qi gathers in cultivation.

Your eyes are red now because Heart Fire is surging upward. At the same time, seminal fluid is leaking below, as Kidney Water drains downward. This has already affected the Heart and Kidney. If the Lungs are affected as well, you will cough, and the condition may develop into consumption. When you return this time, you must apply yourself to the practice at once, cultivating with focused resolve and diligence so that you can see clear results. After receiving the instructions and returning, you should be able to stop the leakage of seminal fluid from today onward. Do not worry if distracting thoughts arise during practice. Understand that such thoughts are like falling leaves, while keeping the mind and breath mutually joined is like an iron broom. As the leaves keep falling, keep sweeping them away; one day, you will clear them all.

Maintain meditation without beginning or end. The longer you remain settled, the more the cognitive spirit—the acquired mind of discrimination and thought—recedes, and the more the original spirit, the innate and authentic mind, becomes apparent.

Do not drink alcohol; be sure to remember this, because drinking disrupts the mind and nature.

“Bright Virtue” means the single Qi within emptiness and stillness, and belongs to Yang. “The highest good” means emptiness, and belongs to Yin. “Abiding in the highest good” means “a circle and a vertical line”; that is, keeping the mind and breath mutually joined.

“Fetal Transfiguration” means shedding the ordinary person’s way of breathing—in other words, transforming the acquired cognitive spirit.

When your practice reaches a certain level, your whole body will become soft and relaxed, and the innate True Yang from outside will enter within. With each measure of True Yang that enters, an equal measure of Yin Qi recedes. For this reason, alchemical texts call the process “advancing the Yang Fire and withdrawing the Yin Talisman.”

When the breath has come to rest, and spirit and breath are both settled, this is bathing and nurturing with “gentle fire”—soft, slow intention and breath. Reaching a state of undifferentiated chaos is the “union of Qian and Kun,” when Qian’s Yang and Kun’s Yin join.

I asked what this meant. The master said, “At that time, body and mind are both very still. Your physical body is like the earth, and the earth belongs to Kun; the sky beyond your body belongs to Qian. The true Qi of the outer world’s Qian Yang reaches your body without obstruction. Is this not the union of Qian and Kun? When stillness reaches its utmost and movement begins, Yang Qi arises within the body and surges upward, while true fluid—meaning bodily essence or fluids in the context of cultivation—descends. This is the union of Kan and Li. The union of Kan and Li belongs to the postcelestial, while the union of Qian and Kun belongs to the precelestial. The union of Qian and Kun takes place outside; the union of Kan and Li takes place within. The union of Qian and Kun comes first, and the union of Kan and Li follows.”

The small celestial circuit in the body—the circulation of breath within—should be cultivated to resemble Fuxi’s circular diagram, complete and without flaw, symbolizing the continuous flow of Yin and Yang. “White clouds rising to the upper palace” describes Qi surging upward; “sweet dew sprinkling Mount Sumeru” describes Qi descending. As the saying goes: “Fluids flow gently, moistening like spring rain, and gradually melt away like snow and ice. They descend from the head to the feet, then eventually rise again.”

The true crucible and cauldron—the fundamental place of refining and cultivation—is the heart abiding together with the breath. It must be placed in the emptiness beyond the body. Once you cling to the physical body, it is no longer the true crucible and cauldron.

Emptiness is one and independent; Yin and Yang stand in relation to one another. That is what this means.

Yes.

The true crucible and cauldron—the fundamental place of refining and cultivation—is the heart abiding together with the breath. It must be placed in the emptiness beyond the body. Once you cling to the physical body, it is no longer the true crucible and cauldron.

Emptiness is one and independent; Yin and Yang stand in relation to one another. That is what this means.

If practitioners are understood to have already lost their original Qi and become overly Yin, they need to draw in true Yang from the void to sustain life. As thoughts and breathing become interdependent, practitioners who reach deep meditative absorption regard the void between Heaven and Earth as their own inner void. They believe that true Yang continually comes from it, allowing them to live for a very long time. The length of time spent in absorption varies from person to person. Once their practice is well developed, they feel comfortable throughout the body and can sit in meditation for three or four shichen. This reaches the “Great Circuit of Heaven,” a stage of cultivation in which the meridians circulate and the Qi mechanism moves throughout the body. If they can maintain this state of absorption for a long time and their meditative stability reaches its utmost, they can emerge from absorption and let their Shen travel.

The key to the path of becoming an immortal lies in the word “settling.” With each deeper degree of meditative absorption, breathing diminishes by one degree. As breathing diminishes, Yin energy decreases and Yang energy increases; the Original Spirit, the innate spiritual essence, grows clearer in turn. The clearer and more settled the mind and nature, the stronger the Original Spirit. When the Original Spirit is full, one can naturally shed the mortal body.

Books on the Elixir say the same thing again and again: the core is the interdependence of thought and breath. Hence the saying: “A few words are enough; there is no need for many texts. The ten thousand volumes of immortal scriptures can, in the end, be understood through a single sentence.”

Begin by practicing the interdependence of thought and breath for fifteen minutes; only then may you be able to enter meditative absorption. To reach absorption after only three to five breaths takes at least six months of focused effort. To progress from entering absorption for two or three minutes to sustaining it for two hours in a single sitting takes at least two years of hard practice.

If there is an illness in some part of the body, and that area does not feel soft and relaxed when true Yang arrives, continue to intensify the practice until it, too, feels soft and relaxed; then the illness will disappear.

In cultivating the Dao, one must first return from the acquired state to the prenatal state, then return from the prenatal state to what came before the prenatal state. Only then can it be called the Great Dao.

Begin with “mind and breath in mutual accord”—the mind and breath responding to one another. Once you have reached a state of meditative stillness, there is no need to pursue it deliberately; you will naturally enter a deeper state known as “Great Stillness.” When you enter Great Stillness, let it endure. When stillness reaches its utmost point, you can transcend attachment to stillness. After transcending it, there is no need to deliberately leave the state either. This is called “emerging from spirit.” As the saying goes, “To cross a river, you need a raft; once you reach the far bank, you no longer need the boat.”

The human mind is one. When thoughts arise, it is called the “human mind”; when deluded thoughts are absent, it is called the “Dao mind.” Thus, in Journey to the West, Red Boy turns his thoughts and becomes the Youth Good in Wealth; the Bull Demon King, too, can turn his thoughts and return to true awakening. The key lies in turning back with a single thought. The master said, “‘Turning the pivot’ means turning back and returning: make yourself return to emptiness and revert to nonbeing, and the human mind will turn back into the Dao mind. What is difficult about that?”

The “Tai” in Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) means “one.” So Taiji is represented by “⊙,” while Wuji (Non-Ultimate) is represented by “〇.” The so-called inversion of Kan and Li means bringing mind and breath into mutual accord. There is no need to memorize one by one such ideas as the Five Phases overcoming one another or Water and Fire being harmonized. In the end, it is simply mind and breath in mutual accord.

To act with intention without being deliberate, and to be without intention without lapsing into mere absence of intention, is called “true intention.”

The subtleties of the firing process—the regulation of breath, intention, and other factors in Neidan (internal alchemy)—are something I cannot yet teach you. Once you have reached this stage, I will teach you the Microcosmic Orbit, a method of cultivation in which inner Qi (vital energy) circulates under the guidance of intention. At that time, I will need to live with you to guide you. The same goes for “stopping the fire,” or stilling and gathering the activity of intention and breath during cultivation. In cultivation, it is best to eat only a little at each meal, because when Qi is abundant, you no longer want to eat.

A calculating mind is most harmful. Set your spirit and intention within Qi, and leave no trace of calculation.

She was then taught the introductory method of cultivation. In less than seven days, she said, “My whole body feels soft and comfortable.” I asked her, “Have your breasts become firm?” She said, “They have become firm; Yang Qi has stirred.” Even if a woman has stopped menstruating, she should cultivate until menstruation resumes. Then, cultivating from the return of menstruation until it ceases again, she can restore her youthful body—a Daoist Neidan term for returning to a state not yet depleted.

When the teacher explained “The One Secret of Heaven’s Mystery” in the Xuanyao Pian, he said: “I will tell you the true instruction: it teaches you to place your mind and spirit outside the body, where they rest in dependence on the breath. Then I point out the moon on the horizon. This refers to true Yang about to arise, like the new moon on the third day of the lunar month. When the moon is full and the Qi mechanism is abundant, the jade pistil will emerge. This means that when stillness reaches its utmost, movement begins, and the primordial Qi of the Before Heaven—the original vital energy formed before birth—comes from the void. At that moment, gather and refine it promptly.” Here, the full moon and its fullness refer to the moment when the Qi mechanism is abundant and its source is pure.

If the mind and spirit are difficult to settle, you can regulate them gradually. For example, focus your gaze on a character or an object without looking away. Your mind and spirit will rest on that external thing, making stray thoughts less likely to arise. By habitually resting your mind and spirit outside the body, you can gradually become still. The teacher said: “Both body and mind must be still. Above all, do not cling to the visible body. This is the Great Dao of the Before Heaven. Place your mind and spirit outside the body and let them rest in dependence on the breath; this will gather the spirit, harmonize the Qi, and bring body and mind to stillness.”

The teacher did not directly name “mind and breath resting in dependence on each other” as the method of practice. Instead, he passed on the specific practice to his disciples: sit quietly each day, following Master Wu’s method, and place your mind and spirit outside the body so they rest in dependence on the breath. After doing this for two months, one disciple felt softness and ease throughout the body but did not know why. Only later did he understand that this was the effect of the spirit and Qi resting in dependence on each other outside the body. When the mind and spirit are placed within the breath, the spirit becomes settled; once the spirit is settled, the Qi settles in turn. The disciple then understood that Master Wu’s method had sound principles.

During practice, do not let your mind and spirit cling to the visible body. When Yang Qi begins to arise, quickly turn your mind and spirit outward, and there will be no obstruction. The teacher also said: “Simply place your mind and spirit outside the body as you practice, and remain faintly aware of the breath moving in and out. That is enough.”

During practice, bodily twitching is a normal occurrence. Do not let thoughts arise about it, and do not become attached to this response. Some people also say, “As soon as you notice your body twitching, turn your attention outward.”

The chapter “The Daoist Heart” in the Book of Transformation is the most important. It says: “Forget the body to nourish Qi (vital energy); forget Qi to nourish Shen (spirit); forget Shen to nourish emptiness.” These three stages of cultivation are all threaded through with a single word: “forget.” Such a teaching is rarely found in alchemical texts. “Forgetting” means entering a state of stillness. The more completely one forgets, the longer one can remain in stillness. The longer one remains in stillness, the more ordinary breathing gradually dissolves; as ordinary breathing dissolves, Shen becomes more complete. When Shen is fully complete, one can bring the embryo to completion in stillness and release the spirit. Thus the Great Cavern Scripture says, “In great stillness, the whole of truth is realized.”

From beginning to end, the key to cultivating the Dao lies in this one breath. When breathing ceases, one’s nature and life are entirely in one’s own hands, no longer governed by emptiness; bringing the embryo to completion and releasing the spirit likewise becomes one’s own doing, rather than something determined by Heaven. Yet dissolving this breath is not easy. Methods such as the microcosmic and macrocosmic orbits are therefore only expedient approaches for dissolving it. Without them, one cannot remain in stillness for long. As long as even the slightest breath remains, the treasure of life cannot be said to be entirely under one’s own control. One must therefore remain in stillness at every moment throughout the twelve double-hours—that is, the twelve periods into which a day and night were divided in ancient times. When the breath’s coming and going can no longer be detected at all, this is regarded as a sign that the embryo has reached completion, and the release of the spirit from stillness is not far off. Releasing the spirit means that, after leaving the state of stillness, the Original Spirit can move about freely.

The key to cultivating the Golden Elixir lies in “letting the mind die.” Here, “die” means bringing the ordinary mind to rest and subduing the cognitive spirit—the acquired mind that discriminates and deliberates. “Come alive,” by contrast, means reviving the original spirit, the mind’s innate clarity, and the Dao mind.

“Returning to youth” means allowing the cognitive spirit to return and restoring the original spirit in its innate clarity, before knowing and discriminating arise. When the spirit remains unmoving, quiet, and clear, it is said to be alive. Cultivation that reaches this state is as pure as a child of two or three, and is said to enable long life and freedom from death. The phrase “returning to the body of a child” likewise refers to the Dharma body—the body formed through cultivation—recovering the innocence of childhood: undivided and without discrimination, like an infant before its first cry. It is said that this effect appears after the Great Circulation of Heaven, the process in Neidan by which Qi courses through the whole body. One may then live for hundreds or thousands of years without dying, while the body naturally regains its youth and strength.

At root, the method of letting the mind die comes down to one word: stillness. The longer one enters meditative stillness, the deeper one penetrates the mystery; the more the cognitive spirit is subdued, the stronger the original spirit becomes. When the cognitive spirit has been completely transformed and the original spirit fully restored, breathing also ceases. This is called “great stillness.” At that point, the original spirit is fully restored, and the Neidan practice has reached what is called “the embryo fully formed.”

The Lesser and Greater Circulations of Heaven, different stages in the movement of Qi during Neidan practice, are both expedient methods for quieting the spirit. Without circulating Qi through the body, the original Qi—the primordial Qi of the pre-heaven state—cannot be restored. Without restoring the original Qi, it is difficult to sustain meditative stillness; without sustaining stillness, breathing is difficult to stop; and without stopping the breath, Yin Qi is difficult to eliminate completely. As long as Yin Qi remains, Yang Qi is incomplete; when Yang Qi is incomplete, the original spirit cannot flourish. How, then, can the Neidan embryo be fully formed and the stage of “casting off the embryo” be reached? One must therefore cultivate deeply and establish a firm foundation. This is the Great Way of dual cultivation of nature and life.

Expedient methods and genuine practice can be used together, and the real and the illusory can be brought into accord. If one cultivates deeply, the mysteries involved are difficult to express fully in words. Laozi said, “Even a jade disc worth a city, drawn before you by a team of four horses, is no match for sitting quietly and cultivating this Way.” These words are indeed true.

At first, gently notice the breath moving in and out, and place your attention in the open space beyond the body. After a while, let the mind rest and allow the breath to flow naturally. If stray thoughts arise, lightly return your attention to the breath for a moment, then let the thoughts go. In this way, the mind will grow quiet of its own accord, reaching a state of calm and ease.

If the thoughts have not dissolved and you still do not know how to let go, forcing yourself to follow the breath will often turn into using the mind to chase it, which only leads you astray.

Those able to receive the complete instructions are truly rare across the ages. Wealth, rank, and fame can be obtained with money. But can wealth and rank buy this kind of cultivation?

When has the King of Hell ever dragged someone forcibly to their death? People often walk into the road to death of their own accord. How tragic!

After becoming still and settled, my Dharma Body—the true body spoken of in cultivation—merges with the open void. The void between Heaven and Earth also joins with my own, and then connects with the void of the Dharma Realm, the world that encompasses all things. The various voids flow into one another and merge into a single expanse, without distinction; no one can know where it begins or ends. How could someone like this fail to live a long life?

The master also said: “If you can become still and settled for even a moment, your ‘master within’—the true spirit—can be nourished in the void beyond the body for that moment. Your body seems to become an empty room, allowing more of Heaven and Earth’s true Yang Qi to enter it. How could someone like this fail to live a long life? Your Original Spirit, your innate spirit, is nourished beyond the body by Original Qi, the primordial energy of Heaven and Earth. Your body, in turn, is bathed and permeated by true Yang Qi. Both body and mind are nourished; this is why it is called dual cultivation of nature and life. This is how life is prolonged. Dual cultivation means being nourished both within and without: the more empty and still your mind and spirit become beyond the body, the more true Yang Qi enters it. The work accomplished in this moment must not be taken lightly.

“Your cognitive spirit, the acquired faculty of awareness and thought, stirs up turmoil within your body all day, giving rise to scattered thoughts and desires and disturbing your mind and spirit. So the first step in cultivating the Dao is to draw it outside the body and settle it in the void. Once the cognitive spirit has been sent beyond the body, the mind becomes empty; when the mind is empty, the body too becomes open and still, and Original Yang, the vital energy in its pure state, can enter the body. In short, use the boundless Original Qi of Heaven and Earth to replenish my finite physical form. Draw in and absorb nourishment from Heaven and Earth day after day, and one day the body will be transformed into a body of pure Yang. Whether you become an immortal or a Buddha depends on you.”

There is no such thing as fate in Heaven and Earth; it is only when we fail to do well ourselves that we blame fate for the outcome. The master also said: “Gain and loss depend entirely on you. Heaven and Earth are just and impartial.”

Your most urgent task now is to train until you can take hold of the “Treasure of Life,” the term used in cultivation for life’s fundamental source. If you can enter a state of indistinct awareness within three to five breaths, or seven to eight breaths, you need not fear any illness you may encounter. This is what it means to take hold of the Treasure of Life. The deep, indistinct state arises from the interdependence of thoughts and breathing; meditative absorption, in turn, arises from this state.

In learning the Dao, what matters is “steadfastness and perseverance”; neither of these two qualities can be missing. The whole of cultivation depends on diligence. Without diligence, the Dao will seem far away. Practicing with sincerity, stillness, and gentleness is also essential to cultivation.

Cultivating the Dao does not mean deliberately pursuing emptiness and stillness; they will return of their own accord. I do not deliberately gather the “True Yang,” the primordial, innate Qi described in internal alchemy, yet it comes naturally. Hence the saying: “Gather without deliberately gathering; take without deliberately taking.” Laozi said, “If you wish to take something, you must first deliberately give it.” This is a penetrating statement. I do not deliberately try to restore the body’s condition in childhood; when the practice matures, this change will appear naturally. Cultivators do not know why this happens, so they call it “innate.” In general, the key lies in how the practice is applied outwardly; once the external work is complete, its effects will immediately appear in the body. Practice brings skill, and cultivation depends entirely on mastery.

Sections One through Nine of The Essence of Nature and Life discuss the principles of nature and integrate the ideas of the three teachings: Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. Section Two, “Settling the Spirit at the Ancestral Aperture,” discusses the work of cultivating life—the methods for cultivating life and the body. At the time, Master Wu said to me, “The Essence of Nature and Life is well written. You can read it.”

Read Journey to the West carefully, and you will understand all the stages and methods of cultivation described in it. Journey to the West truly is a wondrous Daoist book. Master Wu once told me, “If you want to read a book, reading Journey to the West alone is enough.” He also said, “Wukong means realizing emptiness; Wuzhen means realizing the True Yang contained within emptiness. Only by reaching a state of utter stillness and emptiness can one accord with the wondrous De of ‘that which is not empty.’ This is the key to ‘realizing the True.’”

I asked him about these two lines from Wu Chongxu: “Awaken, yet do not awaken; awaken again to the true origin.” My master asked, “Some books write ‘true mystery,’ while others write ‘true origin.’ Which character do you think is correct?” I replied, “It should be ‘mystery.’” My master said, “No, it should be ‘origin.’” I asked why. He said, “‘Origin’ means emptiness.” I asked him to explain the two lines. He smiled and said, “You tell me first.” I said I did not know how to explain them, and he smiled again: “Just try.”

Taking the passage as a whole, I replied, “‘Awaken, yet do not awaken’ means that Yang Qi has just begun to emerge, and the moment is still too delicate to act on at once. ‘Awaken again to the true origin’ means that Yang Qi has grown strong, and one should promptly begin to gather and refine it.” My master said, “On your interpretation, the words ‘true origin’ are entirely unnecessary.” I said, “The true origin is Yang Qi.” He replied, “That is what the alchemical texts all say. You learned it from books.” I pointed out that Wu Chongxu himself explained it that way, as did Liu Huayang; even you, Master, explain it that way in Essentials of Cultivating Nature and Life. How could it be wrong?

My master said, “I’ve told you that you can’t believe everything in the alchemical texts. These two lines, too, are just something to tell children.” I pressed him repeatedly before he finally explained: “‘Awaken’ refers to the moment arriving, when the spirit becomes aware of something. This is the Living Zi Hour—the moment when the Yang impulse stirs during cultivation. ‘Do not awaken’ describes the state before the undivided chaos has separated, just as it is about to stir. Although there is an impulse to move, it remains vague and subtle; this is the action of the precelestial. The awakening within ‘not awakening’ is the true awakening. If clear and distinct awareness arises, one has fallen into the postcelestial; it is no longer the precelestial’s vague, indistinct awareness. I’ve told you before: being hazy and indistinct is what is right. ‘Again’ means that one must also discern the subsequent emergence of Yang Qi for the process to be complete. The awakening within ‘not awakening’ is the true awakening.”

If clear and distinct awareness arises, you have already fallen into the acquired state. This is not the hazy, indistinct awareness of the primordial state. I have already instructed you: the awareness spoken of here is the kind found in a murky, undifferentiated state.

The word “return” means that you must also know that Yang Qi is beginning to rise below. Only then are both Yin and Yang present. So the preceding line speaks of the “living Horse hour,” and the next line of the “living Rat hour.” If, as soon as awareness arises, you immediately let mind and spirit rest in dependence on the breath, you have not yet noticed Yang Qi rising below. Before Yang Qi rises, there is only Yin and no Yang. Thus there must be two levels of awareness: in stillness and concentration, first a glimmer of awareness arises in a hazy state; when you recognize it, you must also understand that Yang Qi is rising below. Then quickly gather mind and spirit at the “True Origin” beyond the body—that is, the source Qi—and let mind and spirit rest in dependence on the breath. This is what is meant by “sending it back to the earthen crucible and sealing it firmly”: sending the Qi being refined into a crucible such as the Dantian, where it is gathered and kept secure.

I have observed that practitioners in recent times often become too hasty when Yang Qi begins to rise. They have only one awareness, not two. They happen to notice something and immediately rush outward, letting mind and spirit rest in dependence on the breath, when in fact they have not yet noticed Yang Qi rising below. This is like having “Mercury” without “Lead”: there is only Yin and no Yang. How could that work?

The master said, “If you have not reached this point, I will not explain it.” Today I have explained the key to you again. Do you understand? When Yang Qi begins to rise, practice according to the method. In short, when you notice something, you need only understand that Yang Qi is rising below. Although we speak of two awarenesses, in truth there is just one; this is what is meant by “Mercury and Lead arise in one place.” Only when we analyze the principle can we distinguish two awarenesses. If, as soon as you notice something, you immediately turn outward toward the True Origin, how could you distinguish two awarenesses? Learners are simply often too hasty: they know only “Mercury” and not “Lead.” That is why I put it this way.

Once you understand this, when you coordinate the practices, Yin and Yang will naturally both be complete. If I did not explain these points clearly, you would not be able to understand them on your own. As I say, “Without a master’s analysis and explanation, it is indeed difficult to grasp for oneself the timing and regulation of the fire in Golden Elixir cultivation.”

When I had once reached “Yang arising” (the stage in cultivation when Yang Qi stirs), Master Wu instructed me: “As soon as Yang Qi stirs, quickly direct your intention toward the emptiness beyond the body. You must act fast. If you hesitate even slightly, Yang Qi will turn into acquired Qi and can no longer be used.”

I kept the word “fast” firmly in mind. Whenever “Yang rising” occurred (when Yang Qi stirred and an erectile response appeared), I immediately directed my intention outward and pulled forcefully toward the emptiness, afraid that Yang Qi might remain inside my body. When this went smoothly, the external Yang (the body’s Yang response) subsided after seven or eight breaths. When it did not, even after dozens of breaths the external Yang still had not subsided. My master smiled and said, “If you don’t know how to follow things naturally, how can you succeed?” During one practice session, I also felt discomfort in one area, and Master Wu corrected me. He said, “If you don’t follow your master’s instructions, you can never succeed.” Once a mistake had been made, I could not immediately ask my master to correct it.

The term “Small Heavenly Circuit” does indeed appear in Daoist books from the Yuan and Ming periods; it was not used before the Tang and Song. It was only with Wu Chongxu, an internal alchemist at the turn of the Ming and Qing, that ideas such as the Small Medicine and the Great Medicine received extensive exposition. Zhang Xujing, a Daoist of the Northern Song, wrote very well: he spoke of emptiness right from the opening.

The essential method of cultivating the Dao lies in “putting life to death.” This does not mean harming the living. In the practice of the Elixir Way, it means relinquishing attachment to the physical body and external things. The Patriarch Chunyang said, “Though already alive, one can bring the workings of life to a halt; before dying, one can learn how to die. In this way, one can live long.” To “learn how to die” is to let the mind cease clinging to the body. When the mind settles, the spirit becomes vibrant: only after a great death can there be a great life.

I asked, “What does it mean to put life to death?” My master replied, “Let go of dependence on this form-body, this tangible flesh, and settle the mind and spirit in the emptiness beyond the body, without the slightest attachment to the body. This is putting life to death. It is the death of the mind; when the mind dies, the spirit comes alive. A great death brings a great life.” To bring the clinging mind to rest, one must first forget the body and external things. Enter deep stillness until the breath seems almost to have ceased, and both the senses within and without, along with the things they perceive, fall into silence. This is the way to quiet the mind. Though there are many Elixir scriptures, they all speak of relinquishing the body and forgetting its form. If one can truly release attachment to the flesh and reach a state of utter stillness and selflessness, one can attain the Dao. In short, forget external things and bodily form, and return to emptiness and naturalness.

At the beginning of practice, one may pay slight attention to the breath coming and going, while placing the mind in the emptiness beyond the body and remaining entirely unattached to the breath at the mouth and nostrils. If one can follow it in this way for a little while, the breath will naturally be forgotten; once it is forgotten, let it proceed on its own. My master said, “At first, some attention is needed. After a day or two, there is no need to make an effort; it will follow naturally. With long practice, it becomes natural and requires no intention. As soon as you become still, the mind will follow of itself. Going further, when the breath naturally enters and leaves, you will forget it and let it proceed on its own. Then you will enter a deep, elusive state that is difficult to put into words.”

During sleep at night, the body receives “true Yin”—a term in Daoist internal alchemy for the Yin essence that nourishes life. This is the true Yin of Heaven and Earth, not true Yang. Consider this: throughout the following day, a person’s spirit is sustained by it and does not become exhausted. This shows how greatly true Yin has served its purpose. What is more, when both body and mind have become still, one can also sense the numinous Qi of true Yin and true Yang between Heaven and Earth. How could this fail to prolong life?

It is also said that when both body and mind have become still, sleep at night stills the body, and a still body can sense the true Yin of Heaven and Earth. True Yin is postnatal mercury, a term in internal alchemy for the essence and Qi generated after birth that nourish a person. It can transform into the spirit that sustains a person throughout the following day. Once that spirit is spent, a person becomes tired again and needs to sleep. When sleep brings the body to profound stillness, true Yin is once again sensed entering it. Thus, one is active by day and rests in stillness at night. Only by nourishing the spirit through the alternation of movement and stillness can a person continue working.

When people are tired, they often say they need to rest, but they do not know where to go to rest. Simply sitting in a chair or lying on a bed lets the body rest, but it is not true rest. True rest means nourishing Shen and Qi. When Shen is weary, the body becomes fatigued, so Shen should be allowed to settle and rest within Qi: Qi nourishes Shen, and Shen harmonizes Qi. Only when Shen and Qi have both grown still and settled beyond the body is it true rest.

Shen and Qi are like a married couple in harmony. If one can often enter a state of deep, quiet obscurity, with awareness settling into stillness, one can preserve Taiji—the integral state that is life’s origin—and thereby prolong life.

People in the world do not understand what “clarity and stillness” means, so they practice stillness exercises. In fact, these two words mean dual cultivation: clarity means purifying thoughts, and stillness means bringing the breath into harmony. When the mind and spirit are settled beyond the body, the mind can become clear and the Qi can become still.

The mind and breath depend on each other, and the key is to be intentional yet seemingly unintentional. The greatest pitfalls are clinging deliberately without being able to let go, or becoming attached to outward forms and stirring the heart’s fire.

Mencius said, “Do not deliberately forget, and do not deliberately help things along.” These four characters explain the essentials of regulating the breath—making it even—with great precision. Mind and breath depend on and accompany one another. When they become steady and harmonious, this is “not forgetting and not helping along.” In this state, the breath naturally grows gentle and even, while the mind naturally enters a hazy, deep, quiet, and indistinct state. This is the first step in mastering the method of mind and breath depending on one another: allowing mind and breath to accompany each other naturally.

Once the practice of mind and breath depending on one another has become familiar, one must go further and reach a state in which spirit and Qi forget each other; only then can one enter stillness—a state of deep quiet and focused cultivation. If spirit and Qi cannot forget each other, one cannot enter stillness. That is why the word “forget” is so important. Falling asleep is the first sign that mind and breath are beginning to depend on one another. If mind and breath cannot be forgotten together, one cannot fall asleep. If one cannot even sleep, how could one enter stillness? This method of mind and breath depending on one another can be attained only through genuine practice, and its effects can be known only through personal experience. It is truly a treasure that even ten thousand taels of gold could not buy, and should not be taken lightly. Many people in ancient times sought out the Dao and looked for teachers, yet went their whole lives without finding what they sought.

When explaining these three lines from the Book of Changes—“Qian knows through ease; Kun achieves through simplicity; through ease and simplicity, the principles of all under Heaven are attained”—the teacher said that their meaning was simply the harmonizing and merging of mind and breath. I said that it could be summed up in the seven characters “mind and breath depend on one another outside.” Teacher Wu said that mind and breath must depend on one another outside; even if one attains this practice and dies, one must not be troubled by it. This, he said, was a further instruction.

The phrase “mind and breath depend on one another outside” refers to a method of practice in which mind and breath naturally accompany one another beyond the body. “Even if one attains it and dies, one is not troubled by it” emphasizes that, in practice, one should not be moved by external matters of life and death.

Zhang Ziyang said, “From this we know that the method of the Great Elixir is exceptionally simple and easy to practice. Even an ignorant, ordinary person, provided they receive it and cultivate accordingly, can quickly attain the realm of a sage. For this reason, Heaven keeps this method concealed and does not let it pass readily to those unsuited to it.” In the preface to his Treatise on Returning to the Origin, Shi Xinglin also wrote, “In the past, I met the perfected immortal master Zhang Ziyang at a post station. He spoke only half a sentence, in plain and simple words, yet its effects could be verified in an instant. From this I knew that the Way of becoming an immortal could be learned, and I secretly rejoiced.”

The “simplicity” spoken of here means bringing Shen and Qi together beyond the body: Shen rests upon Qi, and Qi rests upon Shen. This is the most concise method of cultivation. If cultivation brings no results, it is because one has not yet aligned with the natural order. Shen and Qi should rely on one another and unite naturally. Then, as one grows still, one enters a deep and mysterious state of trance.

Cultivating the Dao is like playing chess: the key lies in personal insight. After a master teaches the method, one must still practice it oneself. As the practice becomes natural through mastery, one gradually grasps its secrets, and cultivation begins to bear fruit step by step. To explain every result in advance and in full detail would be like feeding someone food that has already been chewed; it would defeat the purpose of cultivation.

People in the world do not understand the meaning of “emptiness and nothingness,” and so they are apt to mistake it for inert voidness. In fact, “emptiness and nothingness” are the essentials of cultivating the body and a subtle method of dual cultivation of nature and life (cultivating both the mind and one’s life). “Emptiness” means making the mind quiet and open; “nothingness” means forgetting the body. When the mind is empty, Shen naturally becomes clear; when the body is forgotten, Qi naturally becomes still.

Laozi once gave Pengqiu a linked ring to play with in his spare time. If he could undo the ring, he could free himself as well. This uses an object as an image to explain how the mind and breath depend on one another. If one can reach a state in which mind and breath are mutually forgotten and one settles peacefully into meditative absorption, it is like the links of a ring resting upon one another. This stability is also expressed in outward cultivation. All methods of alchemy are forms of cultivation that involve holding and practicing something beyond the body.

When there is breath in the heart—the breath of respiration—follow its course outside the body. When there is no breath in the heart, rest peacefully in stillness outside the body. Grasp these two statements fully, and that is enough. Whether there is breath or no breath, let the heart and breath forget one another, and enter stillness peacefully. Whether following the breath or entering stillness, both take place outside the body. Though the methods of internal alchemy (Neidan) vary, they all involve practicing and applying oneself outside the body.

Whether breath is present or absent need not be deliberately arranged; let things follow their natural course. When there is breath, follow it outside the body; when there is no breath, enter stillness outside the body. This is called “refining the form through true emptiness,” using cultivation in emptiness and quietude to refine the body.

When cultivation reaches the stage of “Yang arising,” an internal alchemy term for signs that Yang energy has stirred, you may suddenly sense a slight movement in the external kidney, here meaning the male sexual organ. At once, follow the breath outside the body, moving as swiftly as lightning, without hesitation or letting your thoughts wander. When the movement and stillness have gradually diminished, enter stillness. Remain there until no further change occurs; only then may you end the practice. Do not stop and rise immediately after the external kidney contracts. You must continue in stillness for a while so that the sensed primordial Qi can settle within the body and postnatal Qi can each take its proper place. If you stop as soon as Yang arises, you may have sensed primordial Qi, but you have not yet allowed it to settle within the body. For this reason, continuing in stillness after Yang arises is essential. In cultivation, enter stillness before Yang arises, and enter stillness again after it arises.

In the Precelestial Great Dao—the state of cultivation in which the body and mind are in their original condition and spirit and Qi are united—spirit and Qi remain joined at all times, both in movement and in stillness. The practitioner lets the mind-spirit rest together with the breath, allowing them to settle gradually. Spirit and Qi then come to rest together in emptiness, entering meditation and reaching a profound state of true emptiness.

When stillness reaches its utmost, the impulse to move arises naturally; it is not deliberately brought about. As Qi moves, spirit becomes aware of it. The phrase “when the time arrives, spirit knows” means that spirit and Qi change at the same time. If spirit then rushes outward and chases delusive thoughts, spirit and Qi split apart. If movement arises without this heedless outward rushing, spirit immediately rests together with the breath, and their unity is preserved. This still belongs to the precelestial state, so it is called “continuing stillness through stillness.” When the mind-spirit rests together with the breath, spirit can settle. In other words, when spirit and Qi are deeply settled, Qi begins to stir and spirit becomes aware of it at once. At this point, the state of stillness may be about to fade, and spirit and Qi may separate. By continuing to rest together with the breath, the practitioner sustains the existing state of stillness and keeps spirit and Qi united.

When Yang Qi first arises, do not turn the mind toward it. Follow the natural sign and immediately cease resting outwardly with the breath. The whole process must be natural and decisive, without hesitation. The scripture uses “beheading” as a metaphor: if one acts even slightly too late, doubt arises, and hesitation makes it impossible to bring the blade down. The same is true when Yang Qi arises. As soon as external Yang stirs, follow the natural sign at once, turn outward to rest with the breath, and decisively cut off the attachment, leaving no lingering. A slight shift in thought or the smallest delay can cause the process to go awry. In short, let everything happen naturally; only then can its subtle art become apparent.

Asked what “passing the barrier” meant, the master said, “What barrier is there to pass? Do you think this refers to the paired passes at the spinal gate, the cultivation points along the back? Here it is a metaphor for a difficult trial that may arise during the final days of the Great Circulation, the stage in cultivation when Qi moves through the whole body. If you can remain settled beyond the body, unmoved by whatever happens, and let the mind grow utterly empty, you can pass any barrier. But if even a trace of thought remains attached to the body, you will not get through. If you wish to leave the household life, you must not cling to the thought of ‘leaving home’; only then can you truly be at peace.

When bouts of alternating chills and fever come, your head may ache as if it were about to split, and your whole body may tremble. If you can keep the mind and breath together, you will be able to meet this well. If you have not put in enough effort beforehand, cultivation will be very difficult at that point: neither thought nor breath will be under your command, and it will be hard to settle.”

During bouts of fever and chills, the head aches as if it is about to split, and the whole body trembles. If, even then, one can maintain “mind and breath in mutual accord”—keeping the mind and spirit attentive as they follow the breath—one has established a foundation. Without diligent practice in ordinary times, this is difficult to achieve when illness strikes: neither mind and spirit nor breath can settle, so they cannot follow one another. The key is to hold on to this accord even in such a state. This shows that “refining oneself”—cultivating one’s nature and steadying the mind and spirit—has become mature.

After beginning seated practice, a dozen or so breaths pass, and the head seems to stop hurting. The body no longer feels feverish or chilled, and the trembling ceases; then one falls into a deep sleep. The master said: In fact, your head still hurts and your body is still trembling. It is only that your consciousness is entirely turned outward, so you do not notice. When Yang arises—the inner experience of Yang energy becoming active—the illness will subside. This is what it means to hold one’s nature and life in one’s own hands, rather than be ruled by fate.

Illness should be treated before it breaks out; once it has taken hold, it is difficult to cure. If one practices diligently every day, one will notice what feels uncomfortable or insufficiently relaxed, and recognize that illness may be developing there. At that point, apply the practice of “emptiness upon emptiness”: let the mind and spirit become stiller and more relaxed, until that area feels soft and relaxed. Then the illness will subside. Those who cultivate the Dao practice every day, noticing and tending to the body’s subtle discomforts in time. How could a serious illness take shape? This is like treating an illness before it breaks out.

The master said that once, while out walking, he happened to contract malaria. He lay down for a day and recovered. In short, once one enters a state of stillness and concentration, and Yang energy becomes active, all illnesses subside.

Settle the mind and spirit, and let the breathing gradually become even, until it is so light that it can scarcely be heard. If the sound of the breath through the nose is still distinct during sleep, it means the mind and spirit cannot yet govern the breath. Every night when I sleep, I have someone lie beside the bed and listen closely to my breathing. It is faint and soundless, like a small child’s. Persisting in this practice over time lays the foundation for cultivating the mind and nature. Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, let the mind and spirit accord with the breath, naturally, like a small child. If the sound of my breathing through the nose becomes distinct at night, my family knows that I am unwell: at such times, mind and spirit are no longer joined with the breath. The next day I continue the practice until Yang Qi stirs, and the illness is gone again.

Of Jing, Qi, and Shen, Shen is like Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate); Jing belongs to Yin and Qi to Yang. They are the two primal forces, Yin and Yang, that emerge from Taiji. When Shen is within Jing, it is called “Jing-Shen”; when Shen is within Qi, it is called “Shen-Qi.” In general, Shen directs and commands: it is the marshal of Jing and Qi. If Shen is used up excessively, it becomes fatigued; if Jing is depleted excessively, it withers; if Qi is used up excessively, it grows weak. To keep all three abundant, they must work together and nourish one another. When mind and spirit and the breath support and harmonize with each other outwardly, entering a deep, elusive state beyond words, Jing, Qi, and Shen reach into the primordial realm—the body’s innermost foundation. If one nourishes them in this way each day, attuning to and receiving the primordial Yang of Heaven and Earth, how could one’s life not be extended?

As we grow old, the body’s natural functions of generation and circulation decline. Yet through cultivation we can replenish them and keep them from collapsing all at once.

When circulating the body’s Small Heavenly Circuit—a method in Neidan practice in which Qi is made to flow along the channels—if one has previously had a single emission of semen, one should circulate the circuit once to replenish oneself.

You ask me what teaching is conveyed in the first seven chapters of Journey to the West. I admit that I truly do not understand, and ask you to enlighten me.

Master Wu first asks, “Do you know Sun Wukong? He was born in the Eastern Continent of Victory, went to the Western Continent of Cattle to study the Dao, and was later called the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. After that, he fought the True Lord Erlang. The Old Lord then caught him with the Diamond Ring—a Daoist ritual implement—and took him back to Heaven, where he put him in the alchemy furnace. What do these episodes mean?”

I say, “I still don’t understand the teaching behind them.”

Master Wu asks, “Have you read The Seal of the Unity of the Three?” I say, “I have, but I can’t make sense of it.” He says, “The first seven chapters of Journey to the West are actually telling the story of a poem in The Seal of the Unity of the Three. Can you think which poem?” I ponder for a while but still cannot work it out, so I ask him to explain.

Master Wu explains: Sun Wukong’s birth in the Eastern Continent of Victory corresponds to “The Metal Lord is originally the son of the eastern household.” His journey to the Western Continent of Cattle to study the Dao corresponds to “Sent to the western neighbor, he takes up residence and is born.” When the Patriarch tells him to return, Sun Wukong asks where he should go. The Patriarch replies, “Go back to where you came from.” Sun Wukong understands at once and flips back to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit in a single somersault, corresponding to “Recognize the call, return home, and be nurtured there.”

Later, Sun Wukong fights the True Lord Erlang. Erlang’s “two” is the generating number of Fire; he is also joined by six brothers, making seven in all. “Seven” is the completing number of Fire. Master Wu interprets this as “true Yin,” while Sun Wukong represents “true Yang.” Their battle corresponds to “The Maiden is matched, and bonds of kinship are formed.” Finally, Sun Wukong is caught by the Old Lord with the Diamond Ring and placed in the alchemy furnace, corresponding to “Returned to the earthen crucible and sealed firmly within.” The “earthen crucible” refers to the furnace and vessel used in alchemy.

I think to myself that this interpretation may be right, though I do not know whether it is sound. After hearing it, I feel that this way of explaining the story is something I have never heard in all my life—not even in a dream could I have imagined it. I quickly bow down and address him as my teacher.

At birth, an infant is in a state of pure Yin. Only after five days can the infant begin to see firelight, because a faint Yang Qi has appeared within the body. After birth, the infant sleeps; while sleeping, it seems to draw Yang Qi from Heaven and Earth. A newborn only eats and sleeps, lying asleep day and night as if continually absorbing primordial Yang (the original Yang Qi) from Heaven and Earth. After five days, the foundation of Yang Qi has formed within the body, so the infant can see firelight. The ability to see firelight shows that Yang Qi has appeared. Anything that is purely Yin or purely Yang cannot stand in opposition to its counterpart, because it fears sunlight.

Through this kind of resonance, Yang Qi grows stronger day by day and is abundant by the age of sixteen. From the age of one to ten, a person absorbs not only the true Yang of Heaven and Earth but also its true Yin. After the body is broken (with the onset of puberty and the beginning of Jing and Qi leakage), primordial Yang drains away day by day; when it is completely lost, death follows. In general, when people grow weak, they draw nourishment from Heaven and Earth. After being replenished, they grow weak again and eventually die. The power that governs life and death lies in the void, beyond one’s control.

The sages teach people to return so that they may reclaim the power of creation from Heaven and Earth. “Return” means recovering true Yin, bringing it back from the void to oneself; “restore” means recovering true Yang and likewise restoring it from the void to oneself. One must understand that Heaven and Earth take not only people’s true Yang but also the true Yin within their bodies. After the body is broken, these two substances used in cultivation—the fundamental elements for refining and nourishing—are plainly taken away by the void. If one is to cultivate in order to recover true Yang and true Yin, where else could one begin but with the void? One must search where something was lost in order to recover it and return it to its owner. This is a simple truth.

Playing the qin and fishing are both beneficial to body and mind, and both can help promote longevity because they free people from distracting thoughts. When playing the qin, the mind grows calm, and the eyes must attend to the strings and finger movements, leaving little room for distractions to arise. When fishing, the eyes are often fixed on the float; the mind and spirit remain focused and steady, which also helps dispel distractions. With long practice, the mind naturally grows calm and the spirit naturally becomes steady. Once the spirit is settled, the breath becomes even and peaceful. This follows naturally.

I have an elder brother who is now over eighty and still lives in Anhui. Every morning he plays the qin for half a day. In the afternoon, he goes out with people who live nearby and walks more than ten li, yet he remains vigorous and light on his feet. He has gained much from playing the qin. My master told me, “You can learn to play the qin when you are older. Once you have learned, it will be easier to begin your cultivation practice. It is not easy to make the mind and breath mutually attuned—that is, to have the spirit and breathing respond to one another. People like us have reached where we are today only by working hard and refining ourselves. How could anyone succeed without such effort?”

Those who study and practice often find it hard to let go of their own bodies. Laozi said, “The reason I have great troubles is that I have this body. If I had no body, what troubles could I have?” The two words “forget the body” are the key to cultivating the Great Dao. Making the mind and breath mutually attuned is simply a way of settling the spirit beyond the body, without remaining attached to this physical form.

Someone asked what true emptiness is and what dull emptiness is. My master said, “True emptiness means settling the spirit and Qi together beyond the body, without clinging to physical form. Dull emptiness means clinging to the body. Only by letting go of attachment to the body can you attain true emptiness; clinging to the body is dull emptiness.”

After practicing the sleeping method—a form of cultivation performed while lying still—until you fall asleep, practice again and then sleep again. Continue this for more than ten days, and you may no longer need sleep. If you keep practicing, you will gradually move toward entering meditative stillness, a state in which the spirit is settled and focused.

Practice brings skill. The “skill” spoken of here has no ready-made formula that can be passed on.

When we came to the line in the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) that says, “The four male and female trigrams serve as the bellows” (the four trigrams, paired according to Yin-Yang, are compared to bellows), the master said, “Go back to sleep.” After sleeping for more than ten days, I no longer needed to sleep. By continuing to practice this way, I gradually came to enter meditative stillness.

With practice, skillful insights arise naturally; there is no fixed formula for them.

The master spoke again about the Cantong qi line, “The four male and female trigrams serve as the bellows.” He said, “If you can grasp the first six lines of the Cantong qi, they contain the meaning of the whole book.” I asked him to explain them in detail. He said, “‘Serve as the bellows’ means, in practical terms, that the mind and the breath depend on one another. Wei Boyang, the author of the Cantong qi, speaks by way of the Dao of Heaven, which makes the text difficult to understand. His approach is truly masterful. The whole Cantong qi unfolds from these two lines, and the myriad volumes of Elixir texts all derive from them. I can tell you this: without a true teacher to reveal the key, they are extremely difficult to understand. Even if you passed the highest civil service examination, that would be of no use here. How could you explain them clearly? The difficulty lies in the phrase ‘the four male and female trigrams.’ If the text said, ‘The two trigrams Kan and Li serve as the bellows,’ it would be easier to explain. But the original says four trigrams because it is not speaking of cultivating nature or life alone. If you understand why it says four trigrams rather than two, you have truly grasped it.”

I again asked the master to explain all six opening lines together. He said, “Let me explain them. ‘Qian and Kun are the gateways of the Changes, the parents of the myriad trigrams.’ The next two lines are, ‘Kan and Li form the frame, turning the hub and setting the axle straight.’ These lines draw on the Later Heaven Bagua system of King Wen: Li is in the south and Kan in the north, referring to the movement of Shen and Qi within the human body. These four lines first clarify the relationships between inner and outer, and between Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven. That is what is meant by ‘two layers of Heaven and Earth, four Yin and Yang.’ This describes things through their relative relationships and belongs to the principles of the Yijing.

“The final two lines, ‘The four male and female trigrams serve as the bellows,’ express Wei Boyang’s joining of Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven. This is the Dao of the Elixir. The first four lines take the Yijing as their basis; the last two present Wei Boyang’s own distinctive conception, which is truly masterful. If you understand these two lines, you need not read many other Elixir texts.

“The aim of dual cultivation is not to do only one thing, but to attend to both aspects. That is why it is said, ‘Heaven and humanity set things in motion together’—Heaven and the human being act in concert and respond to one another. During practice, let Shen and the breath depend on each other in the empty space beyond the body. In this way, Qian and Kun, Kan and Li, merge into one. This is what ‘the four trigrams serve as the bellows’ means, and it is also what ‘Heaven and humanity set things in motion together’ means. In short, this cultivates both the Dharma Body, the inner body-mind formed through practice, and the physical body one already has. When cultivation within the body and beyond it both take place in empty space, the two can blend into one.”

In practice, let the mind and spirit follow the breath, keeping your attention outside the body while faintly noticing each breath as it moves in and out. At first, you need to guide it gently with your intention; once you are practiced, there is no need to direct it deliberately. It is all right if you draw your attention in a little at the beginning. The key is not to become attached to the physical body. If your attention remains fixed on the body, there is danger.

Do not concern yourself only with discussing principles while neglecting actual practice. If a serious illness comes and you are no longer able to practice, it will be too late. What good will that do? I began studying medicine and the Dao because I fell ill. At first, I read classics such as the Daodejing and the Yinfujing. Journey to the West was written after the Hongwu era of the Ming dynasty began, and many events in the book are also set during the Hongwu era.

The key to practice is to place your spirit and intention outside the body and continue working in a hazy, indistinct way until the practice gradually becomes familiar. What is called “the mind and breath following one another” cannot be achieved in a short time; it takes daily effort over the long term. It depends on diligence, perseverance, and a resolute, single-minded heart, practicing sincerely at all times.

Practice is on the right track when you can no longer control it through conscious intention.

Anyone who has practiced the Lesser Celestial Circuit, a stage in Neidan cultivation in which the breath circulates, may experience the spirit leaving the body. What is meant here is the Yin spirit; it is nothing strange. When the breath settles, the spirit and intention settle too; when the spirit and intention settle, the body settles in turn. The mind and spirit and the breath follow one another and merge into one, and all three come to rest.

What is called “the spirit leaving the body” means that, in a dream, the mind and spirit transform into a pure Yang spirit. Wherever the mind wishes to go, it can go; it can hide or appear as it pleases, all according to its own will. The master said that the key is to make the mind and spirit, the breath, and the body merge into one in the dream, with all three at rest.

The emergence of the spirit refers to the “spirit in dreams” transforming into a pure Yang spirit: wherever you direct your thoughts, the spirit can go. It can hide when you wish it to hide and appear when you wish it to appear, all according to your will. The master said the key is to make the spirit in dreams truly subject to your command. He also said that when the spirit can remain stable outside the body for a long time, and this practice accumulates day by day until it merges with the Great Void—the boundless expanse of emptiness—visions of the spirit’s emergence will arise naturally. At that point, the spirit can emerge. This means leaving the state of meditative stillness. The visions seen upon leaving that state are called “visions of the spirit’s emergence”: snowflake-like forms seen swirling everywhere. When first practicing, spend more time in stillness and less time in the state of emergence. Begin nearby and gradually move farther away, practicing step by step. Once the practice has become thoroughly familiar, you need not remain so constrained.

Clever people often show their sharpness openly. This is a major obstacle to learning the Dao and something to avoid in cultivation. Learn instead to be unassuming and calm; then the work is easier to accomplish.

You can focus both eyes on a single character in a book. There is no need to concern yourself with whether your thoughts and breathing move together. Simply keep your gaze on that character so that no other thoughts arise. After focusing for a while, the spirit will spend that time outside the body. First become skilled at keeping the spirit outside; then practice coordinating the mind and breath, with thoughts and breathing working together. This makes it easier not to cling to the visible body, the flesh-and-blood body. Practice for three hours each day; it is fine if you can continue even after falling asleep. Once the practice is well established, the mind will naturally grow quiet.

Once the refinement of the self—the cultivation of one’s nature and the making of one’s thoughts mature—has become complete, you will no longer dream. After a long period without dreams, if a dream suddenly occurs, that is a true dream.

Set aside all the books on alchemy for now and devote yourself to practice. Do not continue searching widely through the teachings of different schools or investigating their explanations. This is practical advice.

It is a problem always to be bound to this physical body. If you can transcend its constraints, what could hinder you?

Master Wu said: Practice coordinating the mind and breath outside the body. Even when the physical body dies, do not let it bind or obstruct you. This is the most important step in refining the self.

The formulas for cultivation must be taught in three stages. The first explains how to begin; the second explains changes in the firing process, including the Lesser Circuit of Heaven, a stage in Neidan cultivation in which the breath circulates. The formulas must then be taught once more.

Xu Jieqing had received the second teaching, but regrettably did not continue his cultivation and later died.

The Book of Changes says, “Taking the proper position and abiding in the body,” and also, “Taking the proper position and consolidating life.” Here, “the proper position” means a place within emptiness, symbolizing the center. The Immortal Elder Ge said, “Where Heaven and Earth join is the true center.” This means that the place where Heaven and Earth—Yin and Yang—come together is the true center. Is this not the place within emptiness? “Abiding in the body” means settling Shen at this center; “consolidating life” means that Shen remains attached to the breath over a long period, with the breath at rest, neither going out nor coming in.

The Book of Changes also says, “The great center, with above and below made empty.” Here, “the great center” likewise refers to the center within emptiness: Heaven is above, Earth below, and the space between them is empty. Heaven and Earth join there, which is why it says that above and below are made empty.

“Yellow sprouts” and “white snow” are metaphors for the two medicines of true Yin and true Yang; they are not actual gold and silver. Alchemists deceived the world with what they called the “arts of yellow and white,” claiming to know secret methods for transmuting things into gold and silver. Yet they did not understand the subtle meaning of cultivation expressed in the saying, “White snow arises in emptiness; yellow sprouts emerge in stillness”: white snow arises in emptiness, and yellow sprouts begin to grow in stillness.

The author of the four collections of Family Heirlooms lived for more than 160 years. He understood an outer layer of the methods of cultivation but did not know that the mind and breath follow one another. He cultivated the postnatal Qi and the subtle method by which yellow sprouts emerge from stillness.

It is said that the author of the four-part Family Heirloom lived for more than 160 years. He knew one method of external cultivation, but did not understand “mind and breath following one another”—letting the mind-spirit and breathing move in accord. He took excellent care of his acquired body and was very particular about his diet.

The master said, “To know one external method is to place the mind-spirit outside the body. This is neither true emptiness nor a blank, lifeless void. If, outside the body, you can bring the mind-spirit and breath into accord, until the breath gradually ceases and Qi becomes completely settled, and both inside and outside grow still, with body and mind no longer moving, then you have reached true emptiness. In this state of true emptiness, the generative power of creation can emerge: external True Yang—the pure Yang vitality spoken of in Daoism—comes to the body, protecting the Dharma-body cultivated through practice and nourishing the form-body, the physical body. This level of practice is extraordinary. What is more, if you remain in true emptiness at every moment, how could you fail to become an immortal, even if you did not set out to do so?” The master also lamented, “Those who study the Dao out in the world are as numerous as the hairs on an ox, yet they blindly work only on the physical body. Those who truly understand the passage into true emptiness are rarer than rabbits with horns.”

As soon as you notice the physical body twitching, turn the mind-spirit outward. As soon as you notice the body becoming soft and relaxed, turn outward again. In short, whenever you feel the body soften or experience any kind of vision, turn outward at once, bringing mind and breath into accord. The point is to reach a state in which you no longer notice whether the body is soft or not, know nothing of Heaven and Earth or of what lies within and beyond them, and are unaware that you even have a body. Let yourself enter a hazy, undifferentiated state, settled in emptiness and stillness. That is the way.

The physical body is like Zhu Bajie, a thief. Those who study the Dao must be willing to let it go; they must not mistake the thief for their own son. The master also said, “If at every step you can keep to the passage of emptiness and prevent the mind-spirit from settling in the physical body, you will be free of disturbance.”

You are ready to be taught the formulas for the transformations of the firing process only after you have cured illnesses acquired later in life. Wherever I am, you should follow me and practice with me for three to five years. Once you have obtained the foundation of the Elixir—the basis for cultivation—you can return home and become a Confucian of noble character and deep learning. Zhang Sanfeng put it well: “Once you have obtained the foundation of the Elixir, return home, till the fields with your own hands, and care for your parents. Spend a few years as a refined recluse and a learned Confucian, then settle and understand what comes next.” That is what he meant. You must apply yourself; without effort, you will achieve nothing.

Even if we became emperors, we would not enjoy the leisure we have in studying the Dao. An emperor must attend to everything, exhausting both mind and body: there is no free time by day, and no peaceful sleep at night. We spend each day discussing principles and practicing the methods, keeping Jing and Qi abundant, Shen settled, and the mind calm and empty. We pay no heed to disputes and are free to come and go. This is already a great blessing.

The Great Dao is impartial, so do not think only of yourself or fix your heart on long life. To seek long life, begin with “selflessness.” This means attaining a state of utmost stillness and emptiness, with a clear and open mind that no longer clings to the physical body. Look at Heaven and Earth: they have no selfish motives, and so they endure.

Do not harbor selfish motives or think only of your own longevity. To seek long life, begin with “selflessness”: reach a state of stillness, emptiness, and clarity, without clinging to the physical body. Heaven and Earth have no selfish motives, and so they endure.

Do not scheme or compete to prove yourself superior. Forget external things and do not cling to the body. Let the mind rest naturally with the breath, and let Shen settle of its own accord. This is the subtle practice of following Hundun, the undivided, primordial state.

The Patriarch Sanfeng (Zhang Sanfeng) once said, “To seek the profound Great Dao, I traveled to the ends of the earth. I cast aside fame and wealth and gave up home and fields. I endured every kind of hardship; my clothes grew threadbare and my shoes wore through, yet I still might not meet a teacher. How lamentable that six or seven decades pass so quickly.” Consider the people of old: how arduous and bitter it was to seek the Dao. Only after enduring so much did they finally meet an enlightened teacher and hear the Great Dao. Since ancient times, everyone who attained the Dao did so by passing through hardship and adversity. Qiu the Patriarch (Qiu Chuji, a patriarch of the Quanzhen tradition), for example, cultivated body and mind at Panxi and endured many hardships. Without a steadfast and patient heart, it is difficult to attain the Dao through luck alone.

Preventing the leakage of Jing and Qi is actually not difficult. Simply set aside the texts on Neidan cultivation and practice steadily and wholeheartedly, keeping the mind and spirit aligned with the practice at all times. When the external Yang (the male genitals) shows even the slightest movement, whether during practice or in ordinary moments when the mind is free of stray thoughts, do not form an intention. Immediately turn to “the outer method”—here, a method of regulating the body by directing attention outward—and the external Yang will subside on its own. With sustained practice, this will gradually become natural: Yang Qi will move only upward, no longer following its course downward, and leakage will cease.

Once the practice has become familiar and natural, even if the external Yang rises during an ordinary moment when the mind is free of stray thoughts, do not form an intention. Immediately turn to “the outer method,” and the external Yang will subside on its own. Practiced over time, this will become habitual: Yang Qi will move only upward in its reversed course, not downward in its ordinary course, and leakage will cease.

When the practice has become fully natural through mastery, it is already good if you can enter the hazy, obscure state—one of quiet awareness, as if something were present and yet absent—several times in a day. In the twelve double-hours of the day, whenever Yang arises—that is, when Yang Qi stirs in Neidan practice—it is an opportunity of the precelestial realm, and you can make use of it.

As soon as you notice Yang arising, your mind and spirit and your breathing will naturally settle. After several dozen breaths, you will enter the hazy, obscure state again. If Yang arises once more, the moment you notice it, your thoughts will grow still, and they will naturally come to rest with the breath. At this point, there is no need to wait for several dozen breaths: after only one or two breaths, the penis will hang limp. Continue following the breath until it seems to cease. Body and mind will settle peacefully into meditative absorption; you will perceive nothing, becoming murky and undifferentiated, forgetting yourself, other people, external things, and your own body, as if you were a living corpse.

You must do this practice every day. In less than a month, various signs of its efficacy will appear. It truly works quickly. The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three), a Daoist Neidan classic, says, “Raise a pole and its shadow appears; call into a valley and an echo answers.” This means that results come swiftly, like seeing a shadow as soon as a pole is raised or hearing an echo as soon as one calls into a valley—without the slightest delay.

But the most important point is this: you must practice for yourself to obtain these results. If you make no effort, you will remain just as you are even after ten thousand years. Empty talk is useless. As Bai Yuchan, a Daoist of the Song dynasty, said, “You must taste a piece of Yunmen cake yourself; do not merely drool as you talk about pilau.” The meaning is that you must put the teaching into practice yourself; longing for it and discussing it are not enough. He looked at me and remained silent for a long time. I was deeply moved.

When the experience called “Yang stirring” first appears in practice—the movement of Yang Qi during cultivation—it still belongs to “the prenatal within the postnatal”: the prenatal state has just begun to emerge, but remains easily affected by postnatal thoughts and bodily reactions. After Yang stirs, the mind often moves involuntarily, sometimes even giving rise to impatience and a desire for quick results. At other times, one may suddenly panic and not know what to do.

The master said: Whatever happens, the moment a thought arises, the state is no longer purely “the prenatal within the prenatal.” So when Yang first stirs, the most important thing is not to cling to bodily sensations, but to turn the mind and spirit beyond the body as soon as possible. If the mind does not turn on its own, quickly withdraw your attention from the body and let the mind and spirit rest with the breath outside the body; then nothing will go wrong. Pay no attention to whether the Yang Qi subsides, and do not cling at all to whatever appears in the body.

What must be avoided above all is taking a few breaths and then thinking, “Let me see whether the yang organ”—here, a bodily response that occurs when Yang Qi stirs—“has subsided.” The moment you check, the yang organ may stir again. This one thought can cause great harm: the original prenatal Qi mechanism instantly becomes turbid postnatal Qi; the Original Spirit, clear and undivided, becomes the cognitive spirit, which discriminates and deliberates; distracting thoughts arise in profusion, the mind and spirit are disturbed, Original Qi becomes turbid, and Original Jing becomes Yin Jing. The text holds that tears, nasal discharge, or involuntary seminal emission may all result from this moment of change. Such practice is extremely dangerous. When one’s cultivation is shallow, the consequences are not so severe; when it is deep, the harm may be irreversible.

At the initial pass, “refining Jing into Qi”—the first stage of practice, in which Jing is transformed into Qi—there is only one route by which Yang Qi can leak away. Even if there are one or two occasional lapses, they will not endanger one’s life. At the middle pass, “refining Qi into Shen”—the next stage, in which Qi is transformed into Shen—any of the eighty-four thousand pores across the body may become a route for Yang Qi to leak away. At this stage, continuing to cling to bodily sensations is dangerous.

That is why the Yinfu Jing says: “The noble person who obtains it preserves life; the petty person who obtains it treats life lightly.” The meaning is that a noble person uses this teaching to preserve their own life, while a petty person may disregard it. Anything beneficial may also bring harm, and the cultivation of the Dao is no exception.

Meng of Tianjin had become very accomplished in cultivation, but regrettably he was always trying to conduct experiments. He often asked how long the external yang—the erection of a man’s genitals—would last, and how long it would take to subside. What is there to test in these phenomena of the postnatal body?

The Wuzhen pian says, “They meet amid a hazy, indistinct state; change takes place in the depths of obscurity. In an instant, flames leap up, and the True Person appears of itself.” Zhang Sanfeng also said, “Where a flash of lightning appears, seek the true seed; when the wind’s message arrives, search for the source.” How swift and subtle these changes are. To test them deliberately would go against the principle that “they meet in haziness, and change takes place in obscurity,” and would make the discerning spirit—the postnatal consciousness and thought—direct the cultivation.

Last year, Meng sent me a letter. As soon as I read it, I knew he would surely fall ill because of this, so I quickly asked Zhen Qing to write and warn him. Unexpectedly, before the letter had even been sent, news came from Tianjin that he had fallen gravely ill. You see, he himself did not yet know, while I had already sensed it in Shanghai and was discussing with Zhen Qing how to write and urge him to stop. Cultivating in this way is bound to cause trouble; no one is exempt. That is why alchemical texts say to “guard against danger and consider the risks.” If you are not attached to this body and do not deliberately test it, what danger could there be? The advice to guard against danger and remain mindful of risk means guarding against being unable to let go of the body, and reminding yourself not to cling to physical form.

The master smiled and said, “Old Meng has suffered greatly this time. Now he believes me. It is not easy to be a teacher. If you have not experienced something yourself, how can you transmit the Dao?”

I asked, “What, exactly, is meant by ‘the innate before the innate’?” The master replied, “Now he believes me. It is not easy to be a teacher. If you have not experienced something yourself, how can you transmit the Dao?”

I asked, “What, exactly, is the state called ‘the primordial prior to the primordial’?”

My master said, “First, practice until Yang arises—the activation of Yang Qi spoken of in cultivation. Then persist every day until the practice becomes fully mastered and the arising can happen naturally. Once it is natural, there is no need to control it deliberately. Cultivate in a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, with the mind utterly quiet. Even when Yang Qi arises, your mind remains completely unmoved, as if you had not noticed. When the mind and breath reach the right moment, they will naturally unite and settle outwardly.

“This is what the Inscription in Four Hundred Characters means by ‘Lead and mercury return to the true earth; body and mind are still and unmoving.’ Lead, mercury, and true earth are terms in Neidan cultivation, referring respectively to Jing, Qi, and Shen in cultivation, and to the place where they are brought together. To reach a state in which body and mind are utterly still and unmoving is to attain ‘the primordial prior to the primordial.’

“The natural arising of Yang Qi is a bodily phenomenon. I have my own state of stillness—what does that have to do with me? You are speaking of Yang arising in the visible, tangible body; I am speaking of the true self’s Dharma body, the authentic body referred to in cultivation, which takes no notice of external movement or stillness. Even if Yang arises ten times or a hundred times, I remain as steady as Mount Tai, without a single thought stirring. This is what it means for refining the self—cultivating the mind and nature—to be fully mastered and the foundation firmly established.

“Can this be achieved without arduous effort? Unless you train the mind and breath to become utterly settled, you cannot possibly reach this state. Only then have you attained the truly pure primordial state, truly let go of the body and forgotten its form, and truly entered the condition of a ‘living dead person.’ Only then does cultivation have a foundation.

“To gather the primordial, one enters a state of profound stillness, dim and obscure, hazy and indistinct: a muddled, undifferentiated state, without awareness. When Yang arises, one begins the work. The key is to train until it becomes fully mastered and natural, so that Jing and Qi will not leak away. This is what is meant by ‘When the Yang pass is closed, all attain long life.’

“Cultivation must proceed from a state in which Yang has not arisen to one in which it does, and then from the arising of Yang to a state in which it no longer arises. When the external Yang no longer stirs at all, the work of cultivating life and Jing is complete. The same applies to women’s cultivation. In intercourse between husband and wife, the postcelestial also contains two heavens and four Yin and Yang; it too must reach a state of profound stillness, dim and indistinct. But this follows the postcelestial course, and can produce only an ordinary embryo.”

The path of cultivation differs from the worldly path. Those who are shrewd and skilled in argument may be well suited to worldly affairs, but not necessarily to Daoist cultivation. The key is to cling neither to distinctions nor to one’s own views, but to enter a state of undivided undifferentiation. It is also said that the more one lets go of the mind that makes distinctions, the easier it is to experience a deep, elusive state. But if one merely follows acquired habits, one will ultimately form only an ordinary embryo.

The path of cultivation differs from the worldly path. Those who are shrewd and skilled in argument may be well suited to worldly affairs, but not necessarily to Daoist cultivation. The key is to let go of distinctions and one’s own views, and enter a state of undivided undifferentiation. It is also said that the more one lets go of the mind that makes distinctions, the sooner one will see results.

When the body stirs after midnight, following a period of profound stillness, this is the Yang Qi (vital energy) within the body beginning to arise; it still belongs to the acquired realm. Entering a deep, elusive state and sensing the true Yang that comes from beyond Heaven and Earth allows Yang Qi to appear. Only then is it called the precelestial. Yet this is still the precelestial within the postcelestial realm, not the most fundamental precelestial. At this point, one should immediately employ methods of external cultivation.

The roots of desire are not easily cut off, and emotional entanglements are not easily cleared away. One must draw on the precelestial One Qi (primordial vital energy) to wash them clean little by little; this cannot be accomplished in a day or two. Only through long and steadfast effort, without slackening, will results appear.

In the past, Qiu Changchun (Qiu Chuji, an important figure in the Quanzhen Daoist tradition) cultivated at Panxi for six years. His mind was like a crystal tower, clear and transparent within and without. Then, one day, deluded thoughts arose again. He felt that the “crystal tower” in his heart had collapsed, and wept bitterly. Afterward, he intensified his practice once more and ultimately attained the Dao.

“Refining the self” means repeatedly eliminating worldly feelings and thoughts until the mind is as clear as water, with not a trace of impurity. One must also remain calm and unmoved by external circumstances; only then is the work complete. If the mind still stirs in response to circumstances, cultivation cannot be considered complete. Bai Ziqing said, “To forget the body and nurture primordial Qi is the Golden Liquid; to face external circumstances without attachment is the Great Return.” Cao Wenyu also said, “A mind without attachment is the Dao mind; when neither movement nor stillness binds the heart, one has left desire behind.” The master said that, in the end, the word “forget” matters most: in refining Qi, forget the body; in refining nature, forget emotion. Thus Buddhism says, “To cling to the forms before one’s eyes is to be an ordinary person; to forget emotional thoughts is to be a Buddha.”

If a person cultivating the Dao does not know where the “Original Qi of Heaven Before Heaven” (the primordial Qi referred to in cultivation) is, where can they go to summon and gather it? If they do not know where to gather it, how can they attain Neidan (the state formed through internal cultivation in which Jing, Qi, and Shen become concentrated)? To search only within this tangible body is like drilling into a bronze statue to find blood: there is simply nothing to be found.

Buddhism compares this tangible body to a poisonous tree or a serpent’s lair. To enter the key passage of cultivation, one must leave this “serpent’s lair,” settle the mind and spirit outside the body, regulate the breath, and then restore the foundations within oneself. That is the way to proceed.

Herbs and other plant medicines can be used to treat illness, regulate and replenish Qi and blood, but they cannot nourish life. The Huangting Jing says, “Simply focus on consuming the harmonious Qi of Yin and Yang, and you can escape death and receive Heaven’s protection.” It also says, “Why not consume the clear and harmonious Qi of Great Harmony? Then you can escape death and enter Yellow Tranquility,” the still and pure state described in Daoist teachings. Only by consuming the unified Qi of Great Harmony can one hope for long life.

Shen and Qi depend on one another: when Qi disperses, Shen disperses too; when they are exhausted, a person dies. When Qi is abundant, Shen is vigorous; when Qi gathers, Shen gathers as well. Coalescing Shen and Qi into Neidan in order to extend life and remain in the human world is a practice whose results can be counted on.

The ancients spoke of “ending delusion and returning to the source.” This means that when deluded thoughts cease, the mind and spirit return to their source. In truth, deluded thoughts are empty from the start. Once they stop, it is like removing the firewood beneath a pot: the water no longer boils and gradually becomes calm. This is the image conveyed by “ending delusion and returning to the source.” The key is first to let the mind and spirit rest, then to cultivate stillness and forget thoughts. Without this, how could one reach the true state?

In general, at the beginning of cultivation, one need only remain wholly in a state of undifferentiated indistinction, without giving rise to thoughts of distinction or calculation. Over time, the mind will naturally become clear, awareness will grow keen, and wisdom will open. If one uses a discriminating mind to pursue the “true,” then even if one believes one has found it, one is still caught in deluded thought.

A Confucian classic says, “If others can succeed with one measure of effort, I will use a hundred. If others can succeed with ten measures of effort, I will use a thousand. If one can truly act in accordance with this principle, even the dull will become discerning, and even the weak will become strong.”

A Confucian classic says: “If others can accomplish something with one measure of effort, you should put in a hundred measures. If others need ten measures of effort, you should put in a thousand. If you truly work this way, even the dull will become perceptive, and even the weak will become strong.” The Master said: “This is what Laozi called ‘striving with determination’: making steadfast, unremitting effort. If others can accomplish in one day what I can, I will work at it for a hundred days; if others can accomplish in ten days what I can, I will work at it for a thousand.”

When Xue Zixian transmitted the Daoist methods to Chen Cuixu, he instructed him: “Mercury is not lead. Lead and mercury must originally be sought within oneself, through stillness of body and mind and freedom from reckless action.” After Bai Zhenren received the teachings from Chen Cuixu, he wrote in a poem: “Lead and mercury are not to be sought within oneself; the Dragon and Tiger must be sought beyond the thoughts.” Lead and mercury, the Dragon and Tiger, are terms in Neidan cultivation, often used to refer to such elements as Yin-Yang and Jing and Qi. At first glance, the two statements seem contradictory: one says to seek within oneself, the other says not to take from within. But on closer reflection, their meaning is the same. The key to Patriarch Xue’s words lies in the final five characters: “body and mind still, without movement.” When cultivation reaches a state in which body and mind are still and no longer act recklessly, the innate state appears both within and beyond the body. Zhang Ziqiong said: “Heaven and humanity were originally one and the same Qi. Only the barriers of physical form keep them from flowing through one another. When form and spirit have been refined into unity, one knows that the appearance of form is itself true emptiness.” This is precisely the meaning.

They explain it clearly but cannot put it into practice because they are too clever; we can put it into practice but cannot explain it clearly because our thinking is too crude. Therefore, setting aside the books on the Golden Elixir and devoting oneself wholly to practice is of the utmost importance.

Meng Jun cultivated with great resolve and sincerity. Every day, he thought about how many hours he should practice, believing that the more the better. Alas, this was attachment to outward form. At this point, the Master smiled faintly.

The Baopuzi, a Daoist text written by Ge Hong, says: “Of two people who study the Dao, one is dull and ignorant, while the other understands everything. The dull person can succeed in cultivation, but the learned and discerning person cannot.” This expresses a truth of the deepest importance.

We only borrow Heaven and Earth as a temporary dwelling; the power over life and death lies entirely in the Void. If those who study the Dao can keep company with the Void, they have already gone beyond Heaven and Earth and are no longer subject to the workings of creation. This is what is meant by saying, “Heaven and Earth are my descendants.” Thus Shao Yong said, “Heaven and Earth are born from me; what more is there to say?” Zhang Ziyang said, “Only now do I know that my destiny is not arranged by Heaven.” The master said that such words can be discussed only with people who understand; otherwise, others will think me mad.

One should wait until one’s cultivation is mature before reading alchemical books—texts that describe Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. In general, the mind must be open, free, and unobstructed; otherwise, reading them may do harm. This is no one else’s fault. It is simply better not to read them.

The Guidelines for the Central Equilibrium is a fine book. It says little, yet fully explains the principles. Its explanation of this linked circle is especially good: it means that mind-spirit and breath depend on one another in the Void.

In cultivation, when the whole body becomes soft, tingling, and numb from top to bottom—from the Yongquan point on the soles of the feet all the way to the crown of the head—this is the circuit of the heavens. The terms “Greater Heavenly Circuit” and “Lesser Heavenly Circuit” come from the distinction between the greater and lesser realms of Heaven and Earth.

Practice means letting mind-spirit and breath depend on one another in the Void.

In cultivation, when the whole body becomes soft, tingling, and numb from top to bottom—from the Yongquan point on the soles of the feet all the way to the crown of the head—this is the circuit of the heavens. The terms “Greater Heavenly Circuit” and “Lesser Heavenly Circuit” come from the distinction between the greater and lesser realms of Heaven and Earth.

Being able to fall asleep while practicing also counts as a sign of progress. Once you reach the state of softness, it is best to remain in it often.

At first, mind-spirit and breath must be made to depend on one another through following and effortful practice. In the end, they reach a natural state, and success is then assured. This is what it means for the Way of the Elixir to require practice in successive stages.

When the human mind recedes, the Heavenly Mind appears; when the discriminating spirit—the acquired mind of judgment and thought—withdraws, the original spirit—the innate clarity present from the beginning—appears; when the physical body, the body of form, is set aside, the Dharma-body, the pure underlying reality described in Daoist cultivation, appears. These changes happen very quickly.

Listen to your own breathing with your ears, without deliberately clinging to it. As you listen, let the breath follow its natural course and run on its own; but do not ignore it completely, either. If distracting thoughts come crowding in, listen for a little while longer, then let go of the practice of listening to the breath.

Take emptiness as the substance and harmony as its function. Let mind, breath, and emptiness mingle with one another and become one. Then substance and function unite, and the result is a Cantong qi (Book of the Agreement of the Three), a text on cultivation that teaches how things can join and accord. This treasure, emptiness, is always before our eyes, yet no one pays it any attention.

Master Wu explains that beginners should let mind and spirit rest in dependence on the breath; this principle is discussed in the Neidan (internal alchemy) manuals of every school. The image in Journey to the West of the golden-banded cudgel being placed in the ear illustrates it best: that is, listening to the breath with the ears. This is simply a convenient method for beginners. The actual work is just to settle one’s own spirit and Qi (vital energy) on an external object and bring them into accord with it. [The original repeats here the passage from “The Neidan manuals of every school discuss this” through “listening to the breath with the ears.”]

Let states of indistinctness and obscurity—of seeming both present and absent, deep and hard to discern—along with steadiness, haziness without clinging, and forgetting oneself and others, become the guiding conditions of cultivation. That is why Laozi says, “Return to simplicity,” “Return to the limitless,” “Return to infancy,” “I alone am dull and confused,” “I alone am despondent,” and “Still and quiet, with no sign yet appearing.” In short, cultivate until you are like a living corpse, your mind and spirit no longer stirred by external things.

Put down the cultivation manuals and practice directly. There is no need to fixate on how long you practice: fifteen minutes brings the benefit of fifteen minutes, and half an hour brings the benefit of half an hour. Practicing more is beneficial; practicing less is beneficial too.

Fix your eyes on a single character, neither staring too intently nor looking away completely. Whether you fall asleep or remain awake does not matter. Or take a scented bead and gently roll it between your fingers, keeping your eyes focused on it. This, too, is a beginner’s method for settling mind and spirit on an external object. Wherever mind and spirit go, Qi follows. After rolling the bead for a while, mind and spirit and Qi gradually settle, and mind and breath naturally come to rest together.

When speaking of “where Shen goes, Qi goes,” the master said, “For example, if I want to strike you, I focus my eyes on your arm. Once my gaze settles there and stays for a moment, your Shen and Qi gradually settle on the outside of your body, and your mind and breathing naturally come to rest together.” He gave another example: “If I want to strike you, wherever I focus my eyes, my hand will move toward that place. It won’t strike somewhere else. That is one example.”

Cai Fuyang also said, “For example, when I lift a chair with my hand, Shen is what intends to lift it, while Qi is what actually raises it.” The master agreed.

If we regard the mind and breath resting together as an innate state, then the state before practice is postnatal. When one advances from the mind and breath resting together into a state of dim, profound obscurity—an indistinct, deep awareness that is difficult to put into words—that obscurity becomes innate, while the mind and breath resting together becomes postnatal. Then, advancing from obscurity into serene, great stillness—a calm and stable state of deep concentration—one has no thought of coming or going, makes no distinction between self and others, neither knows nor perceives, forgets external things and concerns, and abides in a state of undifferentiated wholeness. At this point, great stillness becomes innate, while the earlier obscurity becomes postnatal.

Cultivation proceeds upward in successive stages in this way: first, returning from the postnatal to the innate; then returning from the innate to a deeper level of the innate, until one returns to Wuji, the fundamental state beyond distinction and limitation. When one reaches a state without beginning or end, cultivation is complete.

The master gave me brief instructions to convey to Meng Jun, with three main points. First, stop practicing. Second, study The Mysterious Essentials of the Golden Elixir (a text on Neidan practice) closely, and set aside all the other alchemical texts for now. Third, I should explain in detail to him a passage from The Mysterious Essentials of the Golden Elixir that I copied out. The master said he should stop for at least two or three years before practicing again. If he continues, remaining attached to the sensations and various signs experienced during practice—that is, “clinging to appearances”—his condition will only worsen.

The master also asked me to tell Meng Jun: “Clinging to appearances” is very harmful. He must now uproot this attachment; otherwise, it will seriously obstruct his practice in the future. Some people have even become unable to move for the rest of their lives as a result. His condition is not yet severe and should be relatively easy to treat, so he should stop practicing for two or three years and bring his mind to a state of emptiness and stillness. He should wait until he has forgotten external things and even his own body before trying to practice again.

Zhen Qingxian also asked me to inquire about Meng Jun’s condition and have him reply in detail:

First, since he began practicing, has his body become stronger than before, or is it weaker than when he was not practicing?

Second, I suspect that he cannot let go of his concern for his body and remains attached to bodily and mental signs because he took decocted medicines for a long time, which may have damaged his body. When practice reaches a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, damage in different parts of the body may become noticeable, causing discomfort, pain, or various other sensations. This may make it impossible to forget the body and force him to keep attending to it. Please explain whether this happens during practice, and describe it in detail.

Third, if anything is unclear in the future, write and ask freely, so that he can feel reassured and not hold back.

“Returning the body to a childlike state”—a term for a practice in which the body regains the condition of a young child—takes only six or seven days, or as few as five. Reaching this state in five days is considered the highest achievement and shows that the practice has been done exceptionally well. The next best result may take six or seven days.

Restoring the body to its original childlike purity—that is, returning it to a pure state through cultivation—takes only six or seven days. The fastest is five days; this is considered superior and shows that someone has cultivated exceptionally well. Next best is six or seven days. If the body has still not returned to its original childlike purity by the seventh day, it means the cultivation has not been done well. The person can only undergo corpse liberation—the Daoist form of departing from the body or physical form—and cannot ascend to the heavens.

It is also said that these six or seven days are the crucial threshold for transcending the ordinary and entering sagehood. If this threshold cannot be crossed, there is no hope of shedding the mortal body and transforming into a deity; one can only attain corpse liberation. Teacher Wu said that to ascend to the heavens, one must reverse the body—that is, complete a transformation of body and mind—within seven days.

Regarding the four lines “True Earth captures True Lead” in the Inscription in Four Hundred Characters, the master said: “‘True Earth’ refers to empty space in the world around us, and to true intention within oneself—the mind’s intention, quiet and subtle. ‘True Earth captures True Lead’ means that, while regulating the breath, one pays attention to the breath as it enters and leaves, using just a little intention to notice it. This is what is meant by ‘guiding Qi with Shen.’”

“True Lead” refers to the true breath, the subtle inner breathing. It is called “true” because it is not deliberate, acquired breathing; rather, it is the subtle opening where the movement and stillness of the breath beyond the body meet. Once one becomes attached to the visible body, one falls into acquired breathing, and it is no longer True Lead. “True Earth” refers to true intention. It is called “true” in the sense of breathless breath: a subtle intention that seems both present and absent, neither clinging nor withdrawing, neither forgotten nor deliberately encouraged. If one grasps it too tightly, one falls into the acquired human mind, and it is no longer true intention.

“To capture” means to guide and rely upon. Regulating the breath in this way makes it long and fine, slow and gentle. Intention and breath breathe in and out together, drawing close and joining one another, until they gradually congeal as one. Then True Lead can naturally bring True Mercury under control. True Mercury refers to one’s original Shen, the spirit at the root of one’s being. True Mercury and True Earth are not originally distinct: before intention stirs, it is True Mercury; once intention stirs, it becomes True Earth. The earlier statement that True Earth captures True Lead means that subtle intention guides the breath, bringing mind and breath into mutual reliance. “True Lead controls True Mercury” means that, after mind and breath have relied on each other for a long time, the breath no longer departs from the original Shen; the two become intertwined and harmonized as one.

Ziyang said: “Wood’s nature loves Metal and follows righteousness; Metal’s affection longs for Wood’s kindness. They swallow and exchange, yet draw close; only then does one realize that a man has conceived.” This describes precisely this process. One should understand that “True Lead controls True Mercury” is the natural culmination of cultivation: true emptiness and wondrous presence come to rely on each other naturally, and even that subtle intention from before gradually falls away. Mind, spirit, and breath enter together the “realm of nothing at all,” a state free of attachment and difficult to put into words. Hence it is said: “Lead and Mercury return to True Earth; body and mind are still and unmoving.”

What does “wondrous being within true emptiness, each arising in accord with the other” mean? In cultivation, even the initial thought of making a deliberate effort gradually fades away, and body and mind seem to enter a state of nonattachment. This is the meaning of “lead and mercury return to the true earth; body and mind are still and unmoving.”

“Lead and mercury return to the true earth” means that, after practicing this method for a long time, the breath grows ever lighter and finer, until it seems to stop. Mind, spirit, and breath all settle, as if returning to the state before birth and merging into emptiness. Laozi’s phrases “return to the limitless,” “return to infancy,” “return to simplicity,” and “return to the root” all describe this. At this time, body and mind remain constantly still, as though dwelling together with the void.

In this state, one forgets external things and one’s own body. There is no distinguishing or knowing; all is an undifferentiated, chaotic whole. There is no division between Heaven and Earth, within and without, or beginning and end. One enters great harmony—a state of complete accord and integration—with no thoughts or worries, and no stirring or movement. This is why it is called “body and mind still and unmoving.” But if, at the utmost point of emptiness and stillness, a thought suddenly stirs and clings to the physical body, the innate state of purity and stillness immediately turns into the acquired state of turbidity and disorder. This does not accord with the meaning of “still and unmoving.” Understand that these three words describe the innate state of the limitless; they must not be passed over lightly. These four lines alone explain the Way of the Elixir—the practice of internal alchemy—with striking directness and clarity.

The following four lines, beginning “From emptiness arises white snow,” summarize the generation and gathering of the elixir ingredients. “White snow” and “yellow sprouts” are terms in internal alchemy that refer to signs of innate Qi appearing during cultivation. In deep meditative stillness, the primordial Qi comes from emptiness into the practitioner; this is the “birth of the medicine.” “The jade furnace, gently warm” means gently nurturing it within the body through the mutual attunement of mind and spirit with the breath, maintaining calmness and single-mindedness without deliberately forgetting or deliberately assisting its growth. Then the vision known as “flying purple clouds” naturally appears at the crown of the head. This is also what is described by “white clouds gather at the upper palace, and sweet dew sprinkles Mount Sumeru.”

This is still describing the practice of “heart and breath depending on each other”: the mind and spirit and the breath respond to one another, settling and abiding together. The four lines that follow, “The lotus blooms in the Flower Pond,” also describe this practice. When one’s work reaches the utmost emptiness and stillness, Yang Qi naturally comes back to life.

The lines “Deep in the night, the moon shines bright; heaven and earth are a single mirror” are beautifully written. Such lines are almost impossible to write without years of diligent practice. Yet fine writing alone is not enough. Wu Yuanzi also has these two lines: “A bright moon shines from the heart of heaven; at midnight, thunder shakes the land of China.” Their meaning is similar. Only when practice has reached profound depths can one write lines like these.

The four lines beginning “Cinnabar refines Yang Qi” likewise describe the practice of heart and breath depending on each other. The practitioner brings True Yin and True Yang—the Yin and Yang energies that work together in Neidan cultivation—into a state of emptiness, where they mingle and return to unity, transforming into a pool of water. At this point, body and mind are both forgotten, and the whole body feels at ease: soft, relaxed, and light.

The Daoist alchemical classic Cantong qi says: “Qi flows from the head down to the feet, then rises again. It circulates back and forth, reaching without limit and gently filling the body.” These words all describe this process.

The next four lines, “The medicine gives birth to the Mysterious Opening,” describe the heart and breathing depending on one another. The first two lines say that when innate Qi—the original Qi referred to in cultivation—arrives, it must at once become joined, beyond the body, with the heart and spirit. The “Yang Furnace and Mysterious Opening” are simply empty space. When they are properly coordinated, a Mysterious Pearl—the symbol of Neidan cultivation—will naturally appear within the body. Hence the saying, “When the Dragon and Tiger unite, the precious cauldron produces the Mysterious Pearl”: this is a metaphor for forming the Elixir.

The four lines beginning “This opening is no ordinary opening” are especially important. If one searches for this opening only in the physical body, the result is “Kan and Li joining together,” rather than “Qian and Kun joining together.” As for the phrase “called the Cavity of Spirit and Qi,” understand that both the heart and spirit and Qi must settle in this cavity and depend on one another. Only then do they form “two layers of Heaven and Earth, and four Yin-Yang aspects”—that is, the dual cultivation of nature and life. The master said: In short, the four words “heart and breath depend on one another” are enough to unlock the meaning of ten thousand volumes of alchemical writings.

The Guidelines to the Central Alignment, a text on Neidan cultivation, depicts seven stars to explain the circulation of the celestial circuit. The unmoving handle of the Dipper symbolizes my heart, still and unmoving, settled on the outside. The other six stars revolve, producing the signs of the four seasons; this symbolizes true Qi steaming and flowing through the entire body. As the Cantong qi says: “The breath flows continuously, like spring nourishing all things; fluids melt and flow, like ice and snow thawing. Qi flows from the head down to the feet, then rises again. It circulates back and forth, reaching without limit and gently filling the body.”

When the master spoke of these three phrases—“Forget the form to nourish Qi; forget Qi to nourish spirit; forget spirit to nourish emptiness”—he said: “Forget” is the true secret. Let it guide your cultivation. The subtlety of these three phrases is beyond compare.

Dual cultivation of nature and life means cultivating both one’s spiritual nature and bodily life at the same time. These are two kinds of practice, not one and the same. Put plainly, the “two layers of Heaven and Earth, and four Yin-Yangs” mentioned earlier means cultivating the Dharma Body, the spiritual ground of being, while also cultivating the physical body.

The practice is focused mainly on the Dharma Body, while its effects appear in the physical body. What is carried out outwardly is the practice of life: the work of nurturing life and the body. As deliberate effort gradually becomes natural, the physical body changes of its own accord. The principle behind this natural unfolding is called the principle of nature. It cannot be controlled through deliberate human effort; it refers to the natural state of doing nothing and taking no action. The practice of life, by contrast, involves carrying out procedures externally according to established methods, such as starting and stopping the fire, regulating the ingredients, and combining them. These are deliberate practices, yet they must also follow the natural order.

This is why one cultivates nature and life together. The principle of nature is already contained within the outward practice of life. The “two layers of Heaven and Earth, and four Yin-Yangs” likewise expresses the meaning of dual cultivation of nature and life. On the outside is the Dharma Body, situated in emptiness and belonging to the precelestial realm, represented by Qian and Kun, the symbols of Heaven and Earth in the Book of Changes. Within is the physical body, whose form has been damaged and has lost its original precelestial completeness; it therefore belongs to the postcelestial realm and is represented by Kan and Li, the symbols of water and fire in the Book of Changes. Place one’s own Shen and Qi—spirit and vital energy—in the outer emptiness, so that Kan and Li unite with Qian and Kun as one, and the transformations of creation will naturally take place.

I believe that placing one’s own Shen and Qi in the outer emptiness and uniting them with it means that the practical work is carried out entirely outside, while its effects appear in the physical body. This is what truly deserves to be called dual cultivation of nature and life. At first, when my teacher said these were two things, not one, I could not understand. Only now have I suddenly grasped the meaning.

The two words “let go” are of utmost importance. Let go of the ordinary person’s mind, and the Dao mind appears. Let go of attachment to the physical body, and you can attain the Dharma body, a pure body that transcends the flesh. Let go of the discriminating, deliberative consciousness spirit, and the original spirit, the mind-spirit that is true to its nature and clear, will emerge. When you can let go, the effects of cultivation come quickly. With each distracting thought removed, you gain something precious; remove ten parts of distraction, and you gain ten parts in return.

In cultivation, one must wait until “Yang is born”—the moment when Yang Qi stirs during practice—for the first effects to appear. Continued effort brings increasing skill and ease. When Yang is born, let the mind-spirit settle outward in keeping with the moment; there is no need to fret or force it. As soon as Yang Qi stirs and you notice it, the mind and breath will naturally settle outward. This is precisely in accord with the method of cultivation.

“True intention” should rest between seeming intentional and seeming unintentional.

Mizi said, “When the external Yang rises, that is the living Zi hour.” (“External Yang” refers to a Yang response appearing outside the body; the “living Zi hour” is the moment when Yang Qi stirs during cultivation.) The author considers this teaching very harmful and far removed from the Great Dao of the pre-heavenly state. Later practitioners who do not understand the reasoning may practice this way and, as soon as the external Yang rises, hastily try to gather it through intention. This can easily make them ill. The mind-spirit and breath must remain together outwardly until one enters a hazy, deep, undifferentiated state and settles into calm stability. If, while in stillness, you then sense Yang Qi stirring, quickly use the method described above to settle the mind-spirit. Only then is the method correct.

In the author’s view, the living Zi hour should refer to a hazy, deep state of undifferentiated chaos. To say that the external Yang rising alone is the living Zi hour is to have not even found the entrance to the Great Dao.

When yang energy becomes excited or an erection occurs during seated meditation, these are simply cycles of physiological activity in the acquired physical body; they are not Daoist cultivation. If yang stirs in a hazy, profound state, that too is merely a phenomenon in which acquired conditions contain some innate elements, and it has no real effect. Only when body and mind, inside and out, have become utterly empty and still, and one has entered deep samadhi, does the first stirring of yang occur. During samadhi, one suddenly feels the whole body grow numb, like dew or lightning flashing past in an instant. When true yang arrives—meaning innate yang energy in the context of cultivation—the mind remains unmoving, and it naturally moves outward from the body in response. After three to five breaths, one returns to the former quiet and stability. This is what may be called “the innate before the innate.” The original text repeats a passage before “quiet and settled as before”; both passages describe yang stirring, the sensation of numbness, and a return to stillness after breathing.

The hardest thing is to say that one is not attached to the body, yet remain attached to it in practice. First, train in stillness practice, a method centered on entering samadhi through quietude. Once you can settle your mind and spirit beyond the body, you need not worry about this. Attachment to the body is certainly mistaken, but attachment to any innate vision is also mistaken. In short, it is best for the mind to cling to nothing.

The Great Dao shows no favoritism. Some people study and cultivate all their lives without attaining the Dao, while others achieve it in two or three years. Zhang Zhennu, for example, was a courtesan before meeting Lü Zu (Lü Dongbin); two years later, she underwent corpse liberation, the Daoist departure from the physical body to become an immortal. Li Maiyu, by contrast, could not recognize a single written character, yet attained the Dao after two or three years of cultivation. Intelligence and understanding are of no use; otherwise, those who cannot read would be at a great disadvantage. The teacher sighed, “You really have to know how to be muddleheaded.”

Cultivation often progresses faster when one does not read alchemical texts, works that discuss Neidan (internal alchemy). In the past, some people who could not read attained the Dao in two or three years. Intelligence and understanding are of no use; otherwise, those who cannot read would be at a great disadvantage. The teacher sighed, “You really have to know how to be muddleheaded.”

Not reading books on the Elixir—the texts that explain internal alchemy—may actually make progress in cultivation faster. Long ago, Huaijing, Yuanbo, and I began practicing at the same time. Yuanbo did not read books, and of the three of us, his practice advanced the fastest. This suggests that people whose minds are less cluttered may find it easier to live long. Those who calculate every detail and worry too much tend to exhaust their Shen (spirit). A simple-minded person, once satisfied that things are acceptable, lets them go and gives them no further thought. With few troubles throughout the year, their spirit remains intact, and they can live long. The clever and anxious, by contrast, often lose sight of one thing while attending to another, turning matters over again and again. They worry about everything, wear themselves out, and dissipate their spirit. With so many troubles, they are more likely to die young.

In cultivation, once you can let go of attachment to the physical body, practice will progress as smoothly as splitting bamboo, advancing step by step without danger. The Dark Emperor—the Daoist-revered True Warrior Emperor—demonstrated the essential principle of “letting go of the body” when he ascended from the Cliff of Self-Sacrifice on Mount Wudang. This “letting go” means more than releasing attachment to the physical body while practicing: it must also be cultivated throughout all twelve double-hours of the day. If you let go only while practicing, you are already too late. Make it a habit to release your concerns about the body at every moment. Settle your spirit yourself, follow what is natural, and do not let the body weigh you down. Then, during practice, you will not cling to bodily form or outward appearances.

The reason you cannot let go of attachment to the body during practice is that you also cannot let go when daily life is calm and uneventful. At all times, let your spirit and breath accompany each other beyond the body; at every moment, forget bodily form. Reach a state of natural Wuwei (non-action), without person or self, with not a speck of dust staining the mind, and practice will come easily. Bai Yuchan, a Daoist of the Southern Song and a leading figure of the Southern School of Daoism, said: “A single phrase, or even half a phrase, is enough to grasp the mysterious principle. Why read ten thousand pages of books on the Elixir? If a person is not weighed down by bodily form, the Great Luo Heaven—the highest celestial realm in Daoism—lies right before their eyes.” This poem is excellent: direct and straightforward, unlike anything before it.

The Dao’s body is formed from four sets of Yin-Yang and two layers of Heaven and Earth. Ordinary people are temporarily assembled from four false elements. Sages who have attained the immortal Dao are also formed from four sets of Yin-Yang and two layers of Heaven and Earth, but theirs are joined from four true elements. I explained this in Essentials of the Mysterious Golden Elixir; please reflect on it carefully. After the book was printed, I revised the manuscript many times, removing some passages and adding more than a hundred items concerning the true union of things. I then had it carved and published again.

After Sun Yuanbo completed the Small Circulation practice, he continued cultivating for another six months, until his body had returned to a childlike state. This was so he could remain stable for four double-hours. But Sun Yuanbo began the next stage of practice after remaining stable for only two and a half double-hours, and so he encountered many dangers along the way. When Master Wu left, he repeatedly warned him: “You must remain stable for four double-hours to ensure your safety.” After Sun Yuanbo had turned away, I asked him, “Master Wu said you should remain stable for four double-hours. Why didn’t you follow his advice, and instead start so hastily?” He replied, “I wasn’t taking a risk to make faster progress. The joy I felt was too hard to contain, so I had no choice but to begin.” Master Wu said, “Sun Yuanbo’s approach has given us a great deal of experience.”

When I say that the five viscera and six bowels do not exist, no one is willing to believe me. Beginners often hear this profound teaching and stop believing what I say. In fact, this fleshly body is an illusory form that appears temporarily through the convergence of conditions, and it will eventually perish. The five viscera and six bowels are merely a mass of illusory, impure matter within the fleshly body. When I say they “do not exist,” I am speaking from the perspective of innate true emptiness. People cling to the idea that “I possess this body”; no wonder they cling to the fleshly body and fail to awaken before death. How difficult, then, is it to cultivate the Dharma Body, the body of the Dao that transcends the fleshly body!

After attaining success in cultivation, one must still transform the physical body into Qi (vital energy) to reach a state in which both body and spirit are complete and united with the Dao (the Way). If one cultivates only a spirit, then even if it can transform in countless ways, one is still merely a spirit being: the body remains incomplete, and true awakening has not been attained even at death. How difficult, then, must it be to cultivate a Dharma body—the body of cultivation that transcends the ordinary physical body?

I asked my master, “How can the physical body, which has form, be transformed into what has no form?” He replied, “You did not originally have this body. How, then, did you come to have a body five or six feet tall?” I implored him to explain the principle more clearly. He said, “From nonbeing, being arises: this is ‘descending from the root and flowing into the branches, giving rise to the myriad things’—flowing downward from the source to bring forth all things. From being, one returns to nonbeing: this is returning to the root and restoring the original, becoming a true immortal. Since you can follow this process forward, why can you not reverse it? Anyone who has practiced the microcosmic circuit—circulating Qi through the body—can understand its subtle principles.”

It is like Qi cooling and condensing into dew, then cooling further and condensing into beads. If a fierce fire is used to melt a block of solid ice, it will quickly turn into water and then into Qi. In the same way, things with form can return to formlessness.

Practice must continue until it becomes effortless and skillful. The phrase “effortless skill” has no fixed formula, and it is difficult to explain clearly. Consider rural women weaving: once seated at the loom, their eyes, hands, and feet work together in perfect order. They can even listen to someone speak and reply while they weave. If asked how they do it, they may not be able to explain. They have simply practiced until skill comes naturally.

Or consider a craftsman working high up on a chimney, with empty space all around him. He is unafraid, carries on working, and speaks calmly, as if nothing were amiss. Asked how he can do this, he too may have no explanation. In the end, it is practice that makes skill natural.

The same principle applies to the mind and breath relying on one another—that is, the mind and breath becoming calm and coordinated together. At present, you are like people just learning to weave: when you focus on your feet, your hands lose their rhythm; when you watch your hands, you forget your feet. There is no other reason: you have not yet practiced until the skill becomes fully natural. Keep working steadily, and in time you will become proficient.

The text uses the meaning of the character “Buddha” to explain that one should not cling to the body as a true self. In cultivation, one must let go of attachment to the self and reach a state of no-self, no-appearance, and forgetfulness of bodily form. Speaking of the character “Immortal,” the master says that “person” represents the human mind, while “mountain” symbolizes stillness. When the mind and breath rely on one another to the utmost, the human mind becomes as steady as a mountain and no longer stirs with deluded thoughts. When nothing comes or goes in the mind, this is what is meant by “Immortal.” Master Yuchan, the Daoist Bai Yuchan, said, “To meet the scene with a mind unmoved is the Great Return.” This means that when facing the external world, the mind is not drawn along by it, which expresses precisely this principle.

Both the characters for “Immortal” and “Buddha” contain the “person” radical, showing that immortals and Buddhas are people who attain their state through cultivation. The creation of characters is not arbitrary; it too contains principles. Characters such as “bright,” “change,” “wondrous,” “jade tablet,” and “Dao” all hold profound meanings.

When cultivation reaches its deepest point, it may even look like madness; only then is the work truly complete. In ancient times, some immortals therefore pretended to be mad. Wang Chongyang, too, was once called “Mad Wang.” The master said, “When you can roll about on the ground, get up and eat, and pass the whole day unaware and muddled, your cultivation is complete. In your ordinary free moments, practice quiet sitting like a simpleton: let your mind and spirit rest outwardly, without clinging to the physical body. This, too, will be beneficial.” Here, “letting the spirit rest outwardly” means not fixating on bodily sensations while sitting quietly.

Those who cultivate the Dao should be content and harbor no unreasonable desires. In their actions, they should be focused and place no hopes in luck. The Great Harmony One Qi (the harmonized, pure primordial Qi) can endure forever; the only concern is being unable to commune with it and draw it in.

Li Daochun said, “These two words, body and mind, are both medicine and fire.” Here, “body and mind” refer to Shen and Qi. Shi Xinglin also said, “Understand medicine and fire, and when you enter meditative stillness, you will see the Elixir take shape.” Stillness is the key. Xue Daoguang said, “Seek true lead in settled breathing.” This is a cultivation formula. “Settled breathing” means breathing quietly and evenly. The immortals of old said, “Without entering stillness, Yang Qi will not arise.” When stillness deepens, body and mind become quiet and motionless, seeming as vast as empty space; this opens a way beyond the ordinary.

When a person dies, life ends. Plants and trees wither in winter and sprout anew in spring because they can return to their roots, while people cannot.

Strictly speaking, people are not even as capable as plants and trees. That is why Zhang Sanfeng said, “Learn from the way plants and trees gather in their life force and return to their source.” After plants and trees return to their roots, they can sprout again in spring. This is precisely the meaning of what was said above: plants and trees can return to their roots, but people cannot.

To put it plainly, people are not as good at returning to their roots as plants and trees. Zhang Sanfeng said, “Learn the method by which plants and trees gather themselves back at the end; restore life and return to the root, back to the source.” This means learning from how plants and trees return to their roots, so that Shen and Qi gather back into the single aperture of the Mysterious Gate, the key point where Shen and Qi concentrate in Neidan practice. This is what “returning to the root” means. Laozi said, “The gateway of the Mysterious Female is called the root of Heaven and Earth.” The single aperture of the Mysterious Gate is both the root of Heaven and Earth and the root of human life. When Shen and Qi can return to their source, this is the practice of “deepening the roots and securing the base.”

Shi Jianwu said, “One numinous presence, wondrous being; the Dharma realm is complete and unobstructed. Leave behind all extremes and faithfully hold to the center.” These four lines describe the interdependence of mind and breath. “One numinous presence” refers to Shen; “wondrous being” refers to Qi. “Leave behind all extremes” means placing the mind and Shen in the empty space beyond the external world. “The center” refers to the Mysterious Gate. “Faithfully hold” means that Shen and the breath embrace one another continuously, seeming to exist and yet seeming not to. Is this not precisely what it means for mind and breath to depend on each other?

The Fanghu Waishi says that if you read just one book, Daodejing Xuanlan, you need read no others, because this book explains things vividly and is easy to understand. If I had not persisted in my practice, I might have died several times over by now. Do not assume that because you are young you will never face danger to your life; events in this world are hard to predict.

Two months ago, I came down with a severe illness resembling malaria and dysentery, and my feet swelled as well. After three days of practice, I had completely recovered. This kind of swelling illness is now widespread in Shanghai, and many people have already died from it. One of my disciples also contracted it, and his condition was critical. I do not know whether he has died by now.

Speaking of what Elder Sanfeng (Zhang Sanfeng) said: “He knew that my internal alchemy had already been completed, so he did not discuss the work of laying the foundation. He taught me the methods of external alchemy, admonishing me with great care and again and again.” The master said: “Internal alchemy” means cultivating the mind and nature. It is also called the work of nature, and is the foundation of stillness practice. When the mind is clear and empty, the spirit is calm, and thoughts are steady, internal alchemy is considered complete. There is therefore no need to discuss the work of laying the foundation.

“Teaching me the methods of external alchemy” refers to applying the practice in the empty space beyond the body. This includes gathering the ingredients, combining them, cooking and refining them, and returning them to the furnace. “Admonishing me with great care and again and again” describes how master and disciple pass the teachings on orally, explaining the subtle changes in timing and intensity involved in these practices beyond the body. The master gave repeated reminders and detailed explanations; hence the phrase “earnest, repeated instruction.”

He then says: “In refining oneself, one must forget worldly feelings and thoughts; in gathering the ingredients, one must follow the seasons.” Look at how he writes: not a single sentence is empty generality.

“Refining oneself” means cultivating one’s own mind and nature. The word “forget” is important: worldly distractions should steadily diminish until one reaches the state of Wuwei (non-action). The Qingjing Jing says: “Look within at your own mind, and see that the mind has no fixed substance. Look outward at your own form, and see that form too has no fixed substance. Look farther, at external things, and see that they likewise have no fixed substance. When you have understood all three, you will see only emptiness. Contemplate this emptiness, too, and understand that emptiness itself is empty. When there is nothing left to empty, do not cling even to ‘nothingness.’ When you do not cling even to ‘nothingness,’ you will be clear and still, forever tranquil.”