《修真辩难参证》

“Discussions and Confirmations on the Way of Cultivating the Real”

Written by Liu Yiming of Tongcheng; examined and confirmed by Min Yide of Jingai.

First Part

On a Mid-Autumn night in the Renyin year of the Qianlong era, the moon shone brightly and few stars were visible. Wuyuan sat in meditation atop Qiyun Peak. His mind and spirit entered a hazy, profound state, and his body seemed to return to emptiness and stillness.

[Confirmation: At this point, one can reach the mysterious and subtle, as if a gateway has opened and a mountain scene has appeared. One then enters more deeply into it, where the visions are remarkably lively. The meanings of “true Zi” and “living Zi” seem to leap into view here. Students should not treat this passage as ordinary narrative.]

The disciples stood by in attendance. When midnight came, one of them asked, “The Master is perfectly still and makes no sound. Could he have realized the Dao? Could he have entered the state of sitting in oblivion?” He asked three times, but the Master did not answer.

[Confirmation: This is not simply a record of an event; it uses the event to point to the mysterious activity of the present moment. Here, “Master” should not be understood only as Master Wuyuan. Rather, the meaning of “Master” should be experienced through the scene of the disciples standing by in attendance.

The passage’s meaning lies in this: because the Master neither moves nor makes a sound, he can proceed from realizing the Dao into self-forgetting. At midnight, a disciple speaks and asks a question directed toward something.

The word “Zi” is not empty or incidental. The disciple stirs and begins to speak, as if emerging from the Master’s gate. Thus the Master does not answer any of the three questions; his silence itself contains a response. This portrays the mysterious scene in which Yang Qi stirs and stillness becomes manifest.

Two thousand five hundred people honor him as “Master.” Though the Master neither moves nor makes a sound, there is a subject observing all this. Who is this “One”? It is Wuyuan, who abides within “Zi” and possesses awareness.]

To understand “the opening of one seed” (the opening of a crucial hinge), one must recognize that it comes from within the gate. This hinge has three names: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. Only when the three return to one can the essential point be grasped; cling to the one and divide it into three, and the essential point is lost. Thus the master poses these three questions but answers none of them. The word “answer” carries a profound meaning: if one cannot return to the one, an answer has nowhere to belong—how could it be called an answer? So I say, “Three times he was asked, and three times he did not answer; the answer is in fact right there.” Those who study the Dao should reflect on this carefully.

The disciple then asked again, “You have not said a single word. Could it be that you think I am like rotten wood that cannot be carved, or a wall of dung that is not worth plastering, and that I am unworthy of speaking with you?”

Wuyuan gazed at him for a long time, then said calmly, “This is something you cannot understand.”

The commentary on the text says: This passage uses an imagined question and answer to explain a subtle principle. Later passages use a similar approach, so there is no need to seek meanings beyond the words themselves. Its deeper point is to remind disciples within the gate to quiet their minds and reflect. That is why, even after gazing at the disciple for a long time, Wuyuan still replied, “This is something you cannot understand.”

The disciple asked, “May I ask what the reason is?”

Wuyuan said, “I regard Heaven and Earth as an inn, the sun and moon as passing travelers, the myriad things as gossamer threads, worldly affairs as dreams and illusions, human feelings as enemies, wealth and rank as floating clouds, the body as shackles, the Four Great Elements—the earth, water, fire, and wind that make up the human body—as withered wood, the Six Roots—the six faculties of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—as empty apertures, and body and mind as dust and ashes. What could still make me waver? What sound or smell could disturb me?”

[Commentary: This passage answers only how to remain still and unmoved, ultimately reaching a state without sound or trace. In fact, this is the initial practice for learning to open the “Mysterious Gate,” a Daoist term for the inner key aperture in cultivation. Wuyuanzi wished to explain the principle, but people are deeply immersed in their habits. There is no way to begin by urgently warning them with harsh words. So, for now, he starts with setting aside body and mind, and uses this to introduce the subtle purpose of “cultivating the real by means of the false.” The key is to use the “six hatreds” as apertures. This means that when one understands and sees through everything, the mind and will can become undivided. At that moment, I entered the realm of “Misty and Elusive,” a state so subtle it can scarcely be perceived, through the apertures opened by the “six thieves”—the sensory desires that disturb the spirit. Sadly, those who study the Dao do not understand this principle. This is a common failing among people, so all I can do is guide them to follow this path.]

The disciple asked, “According to what you have said, Master, is there nothing at all?” Wuyuanzi replied, “How could there be nothing at all?” The disciple asked, “Then what is there?” Wuyuanzi replied, “Only the knowledge that the Dao exists.”

The disciple asked, “According to what you have said, Master, is there nothing at all?” Wuyuanzi replied, “How could there be nothing at all?” The disciple asked, “Then what is there?” Wuyuanzi replied, “Only the knowledge that the Dao exists.” The disciple asked, “Then is the Dao Wuwei (non-action)?” Wuyuanzi replied, “How could it be without action? The Dao has substance and function; it advances and recedes, moves against and with the current, acts swiftly and slowly, stops and becomes full, begins and ends, comes before and after, moves back and forth, has levels, and undergoes change. All these involve great activity and function. How could it be without action?”

The disciple said, “I have studied the Dao for many years, read all the alchemical texts, and visited many people to seek instruction, yet I have understood nothing. I beg you, Master, to show compassion and guide me so that I may resolve the doubts in my heart.” Wuyuanzi replied, “The Dao is concealed by Heaven and Earth and held in awe by spirits and deities. It cannot be explained in a few words. Unless you observe purification, you should not listen to it casually.”

The disciple bowed and took his leave, then began to observe purification: first, he would keep body and mind free from entanglement with external things; this was purification of the body. Second, he would still every kind of thought, clearing away the obstacles to understanding the principle. Wuyuanzi replied, “The Dao is concealed by Heaven and Earth and held in awe by spirits and deities. It cannot be explained in a few words. Unless you observe purification, you should not listen to it casually.”

The disciple bowed, took his leave, and began the fasts. First, he practiced fasting of the body, so it would not be stirred by the Four Great Elements of earth, water, fire, and wind. Second, he calmed his many thoughts, practicing fasting of the mind. Third, he turned his gaze inward, practicing fasting of the eyes. Fourth, he kept sounds from entering his heart, practicing fasting of the ears. Fifth, he remained unaffected by pleasant and foul smells, practicing fasting of the nose. Sixth, he did not let disputes over right and wrong stir his emotions or provoke discussion, practicing fasting of the tongue.

After completing the six fasts, the disciple came forward again and asked, “I have completed the fasts. May I ask about the Great Dao?” Wuyuan said, “Not yet. How can you ask about the Dao when one fast remains unfinished?” The disciple asked, “What fast is there beyond the six? Please instruct me, Master.”

Wuyuan said, “There is also the fast of the heart and its inner landscape. Its impurities run deeper than those of the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. The six faculties are like external thieves: they come and go. The heart and its inner landscape, however, are like an internal thief. The discriminating spirit (shishen), the consciousness that judges and thinks, dwells there; it is the root that sends people through countless eons of rebirth. If the heart and its inner landscape are not purified through fasting, the six fasts that came before are of no benefit.”

The commentary says: Do not think the six fasts are useless. But if they are all practiced deliberately and by force of will, they are still not enough. Only when the heart becomes naturally pure can this be called the fast of restraint (kefei), in which selfish desires are restrained and one is purified through fasting. When all six forms of fasting come naturally, they can be called fasting of the heart.

The disciple was deeply shocked and withdrew to one side. He then cleared his mind of every concern, took neither side, and followed the meaning of “give rise to the mind without abiding anywhere,” becoming attached to nothing. In an instant, his state of mind was like ice melting: clear and unhindered, with not a trace of impurity.

He again knelt respectfully before his master and asked, “Thanks to your compassionate guidance, Master, I now understand fasting: to fast without clinging to fasting; not to cling to fasting is itself fasting. In fasting or not fasting, who is the one who fasts, and for whom is the fast undertaken? Not clinging to fasting is true fasting. When one knows that fasting is not something fixed and unchanging, there is nothing one must insist on maintaining. To fast truly, one should not cling to the thought of ‘fasting.’ Since fasting offers nothing to cling to, why force oneself to cling to it?”

Wuyuanzi said, “You have understood the principle of fasting and have truly put it into practice. Now I can speak with you about the Great Dao, and you can hear it.”

Commentary: When cultivation reaches this stage, the substance of the Dao can be fully revealed, and a single hint may be enough to bring realization. If one continues from here to experience it directly, clinging neither to “being” nor to “nonbeing,” and forgetting both the self and external rules, one enters a boundless realm and naturally becomes part of endless transformation. The movements of body and mind will also accord with nature’s creative process. After this, one could continue fasting in seven cycles of seven days—that is, for forty-nine consecutive days—without losing this state. When the time is ripe, a timely hint, given in response to circumstances, can enable the cultivator to realize the Dao of Nature firsthand and attain the Six Supernormal Powers, the six extraordinary forms of perception described in tradition. How, then, could one’s innate nature remain clouded? And how could the embryo of the internal Golden Elixir fail to form and mature? Such instruction is enough to bring sudden transcendence and attainment of supreme wisdom and virtue.

The master only affirmed that the disciple understood and had practiced fasting, and could therefore ask about and hear the Dao. He did not reveal the point directly or urge him to advance further in cultivation. Perhaps he could have tested the disciple’s understanding in person and, seizing the moment, offered guidance or a sharp admonition to bring him to complete understanding. In the end, however, that opportunity was missed—a real pity.

Outstanding disciples of this kind can spur themselves on and make continuous progress. They are only a hair’s breadth from the state of knowing from birth. Unfortunately, I have never met anyone like this. If I had, I would seize the moment and guide him skillfully while his resolve was at its height; the results would surely be extraordinary. Even if obstacles arose along the way, the “Mysterious Pass”—the crucial bodily and mental gateway in Neidan cultivation—would inevitably open of its own accord and would often remain open. After that, I could guide him through gathering the medicines, forming the Elixir, nourishing it, and shedding the transformed body, addressing each stage in response to his questions. The general principle is this: let the mind cling to nothing and settle nowhere; remain aware, but do not be attached to the states you perceive. Could Master Wuyuan really not understand this? He likely raised this question and answer to explain the highest Dao. Yet perhaps no disciple of such exceptional ability would ever receive this instruction. And even if one did, he might not miss the opportunity as it was missed here.

“Question: What is the Dao?”

“Answer: The Dao is the primordial Qi from which all things are born and transformed. It cannot be seen, heard, or touched, yet it encompasses Heaven and Earth and nourishes the myriad things. It is so vast that nothing lies outside it, and so subtle that nothing lies within it. Confucians call it the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), Daoists call it the Golden Elixir, and Buddhists call it Perfect Enlightenment. It originally had no name; ‘Dao’ is merely a name imposed on it. Any comparison with a particular thing will be inaccurate, and any discussion in words will lose its true meaning. It has no form or image, and belongs neither to color and form nor to emptiness. Nor can it be defined as ‘being’ or ‘nonbeing.’ To cling to ideas of form, emptiness, being, or nonbeing is to miss the Dao.”

Commentary: This answer fully reveals the essential nature of the Dao. By explaining the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir in this way, it shows practitioners where to begin. The key is to let the mind cling to nothing while remaining aware, without becoming attached to awareness itself.

Someone asked, “The Dao is originally without form or appearance, simply a single undifferentiated Qi. Why, then, does the Yijing say, ‘One Yin and one Yang are called the Dao’?”

The answer was, “‘One Yin and one Yang are called the Dao’ describes the Dao’s function; the Dao’s being without form or appearance describes its fundamental nature. Before the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the primordial state of the cosmos before differentiation, had divided, the Dao contained Yin and Yang. After the Taiji divided, Yin and Yang arose from the Dao. Without Yin and Yang, the Dao’s Qi could not manifest. Only through the alternating movement of Yin and Yang can the Dao’s Qi endure, passing through myriad transformations without being destroyed. In the precelestial state, it is called the Dao; in the postcelestial state, it appears as Yin and Yang. The Dao is the root of Yin and Yang, while Yin and Yang are the Dao unfolding. The Taiji divides into Yin and Yang, and when Yin and Yang come together, they again become the Taiji. One can divide into two, and two can also unite as one.”

Someone asked, “When the Taiji divides into Yin and Yang, doesn’t that mean there are just two kinds of Yin and Yang? Why, then, did the ancients also speak of two realms of Heaven and Earth and four kinds of Yin and Yang?”

The answer was, “The two realms of Heaven and Earth refer to the precelestial and postcelestial states; the four kinds of Yin and Yang mean that each of these states has its own Yin and Yang. Precelestial Yin and Yang are described in terms of Qi, while postcelestial Yin and Yang are described in terms of form and substance. Precelestial Yin and Yang are Yin and Yang already contained within the Taiji; postcelestial Yin and Yang arise after the Taiji differentiates. The Great Way of the Golden Elixir—that is, the Way of Neidan (internal alchemy)—draws on precelestial Qi rather than postcelestial form and substance. It returns from the postcelestial state to the precelestial, and is therefore called the ‘Great Way of the Precelestial.’”

Someone asked, “Both the precelestial and postcelestial have Yin and Yang. Why, then, do people say that one can return to the precelestial within the postcelestial?”

The answer was: “Once the precelestial divides, postcelestial Yin and Yang emerge. Yet in the alternating movement and stillness of postcelestial Yin and Yang, a spark of precelestial Qi (vital energy) also arises. Those who cultivate to the state of the ‘Perfected Person’ can gather this precelestial Qi within the postcelestial and set it moving in reverse. In this way, life returns to its root and source, restoring the body of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the undivided original ground of all things. This is called ‘returning the Elixir’—the process of cultivation by which one returns to the source.”

Someone asked, “Since Yin and Yang are already divided into precelestial and postcelestial, why speak of inner Yin and Yang and outer Yin and Yang as well?”

The answer was: “Inner Yin and Yang are the postcelestial Yin and Yang that arise within the physical body. Outer Yin and Yang are the precelestial Yin and Yang that emerge from emptiness. Yin and Yang within the body move in the forward direction and are produced by Heaven and Earth. Yin and Yang within emptiness move in reverse and can give rise to Heaven and Earth. Here, ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ distinguish them according to how they function.”

Question: Since Yin and Yang can be divided into inner and outer aspects, can the Five Phases also be divided into inner and outer aspects?

Answer: The Five Phases arise from the transformations of Yin and Yang. Since Yin and Yang have inner and outer aspects, the Five Phases naturally do as well. The Five Phases associated with the Ten Heavenly Stems and Twelve Earthly Branches are each divided into Yin and Yang.

Among the Heavenly Stems, Bing is Yang Fire and Ding is Yin Fire; Jia is Yang Wood and Yi is Yin Wood; Geng is Yang Metal and Xin is Yin Metal; Ren is Yang Water and Gui is Yin Water; Wu is Yang Earth and Ji is Yin Earth.

Among the Earthly Branches, Hai is Yang Water and Zi is Yin Water; Yin is Yang Wood and Mao is Yin Wood; Si is Yang Fire and Wu is Yin Fire; Shen is Yang Metal and You is Yin Metal; Chen and Xu are Yang Earth, while Chou and Wei are Yin Earth.

Here, Yang represents the outer aspect and belongs to the precelestial; Yin represents the inner aspect and belongs to the postcelestial. The distinction between the precelestial and postcelestial is also the distinction between inner and outer medicines—the internal and external substances or functions referred to in cultivation.

Someone asked, “The inner medicine is used to realize one’s original nature, while the outer medicine is used to cultivate life to completion. This suggests that the cultivation of nature and life each has its own proper time. The Book of Changes says, ‘Act before Heaven’s time, and Heaven will not oppose you; act in accord with Heaven’s time, and you are following Heaven.’ It seems, then, that reversing the course and following its natural flow are two unrelated methods. Why, then, does the Mirror for Compounding the Medicine say, ‘Before-Heaven Qi, after-Heaven Qi: those who obtain them seem always drunk’?”

The reply was, “The patriarchs, in their compassion, have already explained this clearly; you simply have not understood. Realizing nature through the inner medicine means ‘acting in accord with Heaven’s time.’ Realizing life through the outer medicine means ‘acting before Heaven’s time, and Heaven will not oppose you.’ In cultivating life, one takes the reverse course and acts ahead of time, thereby seizing the workings of creation and forming the Golden Elixir. In following Heaven’s time, one takes the natural course and follows the natural firing times—the cultivation’s timing and stages—thereby harmonizing the Five Phases and bringing the elixir practice to completion. The work of these two successive stages is called the dual cultivation of nature and life; cultivating the inner and outer medicines together is called using reversal and following in tandem.”

Q: “Nature is Yin and life is Yang. Are these the Yin and Yang differentiated from Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate)?”

A: “This needs to be distinguished more finely. ‘Nature’ may mean temperamental nature, the disposition shaped by one’s acquired endowment and temperament, or innate nature, the nature one possesses from the beginning. ‘Life’ may mean allotted life, the endowment and circumstances one receives after birth, or the life rooted in Dao Qi from before birth. Temperamental nature and allotted life are the acquired, tangible aspects of nature and life; innate nature and life rooted in Dao Qi are their innate, formless aspects.

Cultivating acquired nature and life follows the course of natural transformation; cultivating innate nature and life reverses that course. Great practitioners use acquired cultivation to return to the innate. They also cultivate the innate so that it transforms the acquired. In the end, the two become one and nature and life coalesce. This is called the completion of the Elixir. Nature and life are the substance of Yin and Yang; Yin and Yang are the workings of nature and life. Within them are distinctions between true and false, and between the innate and the acquired. The key is to discern these clearly.”

Q: “Nature and life depend on Yin and Yang to coalesce. That is, Yin cannot exist without Yang, and Yang cannot exist without Yin. Why, then, do people say, ‘When all Yin has been stripped away, the Elixir is complete’? Should Yin be used, or not?”

A: “Cultivation uses true Yin and true Yang; what it does not use is false Yin and false Yang. True Yin and true Yang belong to the innate, while false Yin and false Yang belong to the acquired. The innate enables a person to attain the Dao; the acquired undermines the cultivation of the Dao.”

Question: What are true Yin and true Yang? What are false Yin and false Yang?

Answer: When Yin is contained within Yang, this is true Yin; when Yang is contained within Yin, this is true Yang. This is precisely what the ancient alchemical scriptures mean by “Yin and Yang finding their corresponding kind.” When Yang Qi is excessive and has no Yin to join with it, it is called false Yang. When Yin Qi stands alone and has no Yang to unite with it, it is called false Yin. Such Yin and Yang cannot be used in cultivation. The ancient classics call them “isolated Yin and solitary Yang.”

The commentator says: It is a pity that although this section mentions the word “kind,” it does not fully explain the profound meaning contained in it. This subtle teaching was kept secret by the sages of antiquity, so here I have only cited what the alchemical scriptures once disclosed. Yet the explanation is still not thorough enough, and later students remain as if walking through a thicket of thorns, unable to understand.

I therefore explained this meaning in my Correct and Complete Commentary on the Profound Explanation of the Yinfu Jing. Sadly, few responded, and kindred spirits are hard to find. The alchemical scriptures say: “With the same kind, the work is easy; with a different seed, skill is hard to achieve.” These two lines already contain the essential secret.

Reflect carefully on the word “kind,” and you will understand: one must seek the same kind at the level of the precelestial. There are many people in the world, and many who possess the conditions for mutual correspondence and can be received or gathered in cultivation. The key is whether one can recognize them and whether they are suitable. The commentator believes that this Daoist method is known only to the Northern Lineage of Daoism. The meaning of the word “seed” is even subtler. Unless one truly understands and applies the principle of the “seed,” cultivation will invite the derision of “boiling water and fire in vain”—that is, going through the forms of cultivation without any real effect. Readers of this commentary should not pass over this section carelessly.

But is this method of gathering and refining really as simple as merely not loosening one’s clothes or undoing one’s belt? Here, “foundation” refers to the essential conditions or basis on which cultivation depends. Even if two people are a hundred li apart, have never met, and made no arrangement, they can still draw together like a magnet attracting iron, as though seated side by side. Only when the “Mysterious Pass” (the key gateway governing the movement and responsiveness of Jing and Qi in Neidan cultivation) has opened can one act without blindness or fall into illusion.

Someone asked, “Yin and Yang responding to and joining with one another is a natural principle of Heaven and Earth. Though far apart—even within a hundred miles—they have neither met nor made an agreement, yet, like a magnet attracting iron, when they draw near they seem to sit together in one place. Only when the ‘Mysterious Pass’—the key aperture where Yin and Yang meet in internal alchemy—opens can cultivation proceed without falling into emptiness or becoming an illusion.”

Another asked, “If the union of Yin and Yang is a natural principle of Heaven and Earth, why are there still solitary Yin and lone Yang?” The reply was: “I have also said that when Yin and Yang join, they are true Yin and Yang; when they do not join, they are false Yin and Yang. The distinction between true and false lies in whether they unite.”

Another asked, “Since Yin and Yang naturally respond to one another, why not simply follow nature? Why cultivate at all?” The reply was: “Later-heaven Yin and Yang sometimes respond to one another and sometimes do not. The cultivation method handed down by the sages works through reversal while remaining in accord with the natural order, so that Yin and Yang may unite for a long time without separating. In this way, people can surpass the limits of natural change and avoid being bound by Yin and Yang.”

A commentary explains: “To speak carefully, this answer should be understood in accordance with the method in Ma Danyang’s Secret Instructions for Returning to the Origin. Do not stray onto the wrong path. First, one must cultivate inwardly with care, laying a firm foundation as if planting seeds. Then one must continue to nourish it and practice without interruption or deficiency. This is the period of waiting that cultivation requires. Later, when a person’s conditions for cultivation meet the right moment, this is called ‘Heaven and humanity acting together.’ Only then may one use illusory appearances to seek the Mysterious. The transformations that occur in cultivation are beyond even the knowledge of ghosts and spirits. Unless one has for a time returned to primal undifferentiation and stillness, success will be difficult to complete. And unless one can temporarily set body and mind beyond ordinary thoughts, there may also be a danger of losing control, as in ‘flying away.’”

Patriarch Zhong accepted this calmly. Patriarch Lü gained it and lost it three times. The essential instruction is contained in just two words: “clear and harmonious.” Only through clarity, stillness, and calm balance can one regulate and harmonize, remaining like spring throughout the four seasons and reaching a state in which human beings can prevail over Heaven. Perhaps this is what is meant by “learning of the precelestial.”

The general principle is to get ahead of the timing of Heaven at every stage of the process, so that when the moment arrives, you are not left behind. Do not make wild guesses or draw scattered inferences, lest you stray from the right path. Wuyuanzi has brought the discussion this far, but has not explained the whole principle. I worry that later students will still struggle to find their way through the brambles, so I will add an explanation of this point.

Someone asked, “Does the union of Yin and Yang take place inside the body or outside it?” The answer was: “The union of postcelestial Yin and Yang takes place within; the union of precelestial Yin and Yang takes place without. Within, it happens naturally; without, it depends on deliberate action.”

The commentator considers this answer imprecise. If the union of postcelestial Yin and Yang depends entirely on reversing the usual course, yet is called “natural”; and the union of precelestial Yin and Yang arises entirely from Wuwei (non-action), yet is called “deliberate action,” then is this distinction between inner and outer being made with reference to two physical bodies, or to the inner and outer aspects of two illusory Dharma bodies—the inner phenomena of the body formed in cultivation—and the corresponding movements of Qi?

If the reference is to the two illusory Dharma bodies, then precelestial Yin is concealed within the yang illusion, and precelestial Yang within the yin illusion. From the precelestial perspective, one must reverse the ordinary course of postcelestial operation, which is why it is called “deliberate action.” From the postcelestial perspective, one enters the course of natural movement, which is why it is called “natural.” This answer is too broad and does not seem to reflect Wuyuanzi’s true meaning. Only by understanding it in terms of the illusory Dharma bodies and the corresponding movements of Qi can one speak of its subtleties.

According to Neidan (internal alchemy), what has no form but appears as a perceptible phenomenon is called “postcelestial” and “within”; what has no sound or smell and leaves no perceptible trace is called “precelestial” and “without.” When the two illusory Dharma bodies meet, Shen (spirit) and Qi gather together; this happens naturally. When the Qi becomes congested and then flows outward, reaching through empty space, that too happens naturally. Thereafter, Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), responding to what it encounters, pours down a plenitude of primordial Qi, filling both illusory Dharma bodies. The wondrous phenomena within are difficult to describe fully in words.

Lu Zu’s three returns and three losses took place at this very time. Cultivation must proceed step by step, with each stage properly coordinated, before one can enter a state of stability. This is the cultivation principle that Wuyuanzi called the “active practice” tradition. Students must not treat it casually or interpret it carelessly.

Someone asked, “Does what is called ‘Yin-Yang outside the body’ necessarily have something to do with me? Some say it is between Heaven and Earth; others say it is in another household. Which is it?”

The reply was, “Ignorant people do not understand what ‘outside’ means. Some practice breathing in the vapors of clouds and rosy mists between Heaven and Earth; others gather and refine things from their own bodies. Some say it is between Heaven and Earth, or in another person’s household. In fact, people who do such things often take what women call ‘red lead’ or ‘plum seed’—filthy substances such as menstrual blood. They abandon the right path for a deviant one and commit all manner of wrongdoing. They do not know that ‘outside’ refers to what encompasses Heaven and Earth and does not belong to the present-day ‘I.’ At birth, it originally belonged to oneself. But once the primordial state is broken, the false takes the dominant position and the true recedes behind it, moving farther and farther away from me. That is why it is called ‘outside.’ Without guidance from a genuine teacher, this secret is difficult to understand.”

Supplementary Note: The views criticized above are indeed mistaken. However, the secret substance in question should be sought among things of the same kind as oneself. “Inner” and “outer” describe only the situation as it appears at present; in reality, they are one and the same thing, with no absolute distinction between Yin and Yang, or between inner and outer.

Cultivation should take the primordial state as its foundation. Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, clouds and rosy mists, as well as such things as red lead and plum seed, all refer to false, material forms. Qi is merely Qi; it is not the true “Qi from outside” meant here.

The ancient sages offered these teachings through successive hints, each with a subtle purpose. But beginners cannot grasp them, and those who cling to the literal wording cannot put them into practice. Only by ensuring that every step of cultivation remains rooted in the primordial state, tracing things back to their source and seeking the foundation that precedes the primordial state, can one gain understanding. The phrase “the Mysterious Pass opens in eight directions” means that one can draw connections in every direction. Once something awakens one’s understanding, one can be ahead of ordinary people in all things, like a bright, expansive net in which everything is clearly visible and precious things are all gathered. With the ability to observe skillfully and make use of what arises, everything lost in the past can be found again within it.

If one has not encountered a true master who personally guides one in opening the Mysterious Aperture, and then further cultivates the “Dharma Body of a Thousand Hands and a Thousand Eyes” (a symbol of the achievement of cultivation), how could one come to understand these principles? Wuyuanzi concealed these secrets and did not pass them on, so I have written them out here to explain them further.

Someone asked, “If what is innate—the Dao and vital energies originally present from before birth—is far removed from us, then the human body must consist entirely of turbid, postnatal Qi. One cannot cling to this body as a means of cultivation. Why, then, does the Book of Changes say, ‘Return without going far, and thereby cultivate the self’?”

I replied, “The Great Dao is neither separate from this body nor something one can cling to in this body. Seeking outside the body, if what one seeks is of a different kind from oneself, leads onto a deviant path. Seeking only within oneself, when the self consists entirely of turbid, postnatal Qi, also leads to attachment. In fact, there is a special method by which what has been lost can be regained, and what was not originally present can come into being. This is why it is called ‘returning from nothingness to the root’: going back from the postnatal to the innate and returning to the source.”

The commentary adds: The preceding notes have already explained this point in detail. What was said earlier is precisely the special method described in this answer. Students should reflect on it carefully; if they put it into practice with sincerity, they will see results. To investigate this method, begin with the one-line formula transmitted by the Zhaigong. Once you have thoroughly practiced it, follow the formula taught by Patriarch Ma, adding the word “constancy” to it—that is, persevere without interruption.

Someone asked, “If what is innate is neither inside the body nor outside it, where exactly is it?”

I replied, “It is in the Mysterious Pass, the single aperture spoken of in cultivation—a crucial locus, not a literal opening in the body. The Mysterious Pass is a place that does not belong to the ‘Four Great Elements’ of earth, water, fire, and wind. It is neither existent nor nonexistent, neither form and color nor emptiness, and neither inside nor outside. It has many other names: the Gate of the Mysterious Female, the Abode of Creation and Destruction, the Aperture of Yin and Yang, the Pass of Life and Death, the Cave of Chaos, the Altar of Dragon and Tiger, the Aperture of Tortoise and Snake, the Land of Trance, the Realm of Darkness and Mystery, the Gate of Inflow and Outflow, and the Gate of Wu and Ji. All of these refer to the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass. It is not in the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, or kidneys; nor is it in the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind. It is neither among the body’s 360 joints nor in its 84,000 pores.”

Ancient immortals were reluctant to explain the key to cultivation plainly and fully. As a result, various heterodox schools made wild guesses and whispered among themselves, all trying to find this key in the body’s appearance and sensory experiences. This is a grave mistake.

I will tell you now: this key must be experienced where the six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are free of attachment, in a realm the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) cannot reach. It is indistinct and elusive, yet within it lies the key. In deep obscurity, there is a gateway that opens and closes of itself. Call to it, and it responds; question it, and it reveals its efficacy. It is clear and present, right before you. When you are lost, it seems a thousand miles away; when you understand, it is right before your eyes. Ah! Whether one can grasp its mystery depends on the practitioner. Without spending decades investigating principles and applying oneself, one cannot see this gateway.

[Commentary] At this stage, Master gained some understanding by investigating principles. He may seem to have entered the gate, but in truth he had not yet attained it. I can see this from his words. Master’s mistake lay in reading books and investigating principles. Those with insight who begin cultivation from emptiness and stillness—an inner mind that is quiet and empty, without reckless activity—will naturally know that I am right.

The main problem in this passage lies in the two phrases “Call to it, and it responds; question it, and it reveals its efficacy,” and in the later claim that seeing the gateway is due to investigating principles. At this stage, cultivation must begin from “emptiness and stillness.” When the practice reaches its utmost point, one should notice the various wondrous visions that arise, but not become attached to them. This is what the ancient sages meant by “no thought and no worry.”

When one suddenly enters a wondrous realm, one should feel as natural as returning home, and not regard it as something strange.

If you suddenly enter a wondrous and mysterious state, as though returning to your homeland, there is no need to find it strange. At this time, whatever phenomena arise—being and nonbeing, movement and stillness, solidity and emptiness, emptiness and form—they seem both seen and unseen, both perceived and imperceived. There is no need to investigate whether the Daoist portal has opened. If you linger or become attached even slightly, you will fall into illusory, deluded states outside the portal, so you must be cautious.

If practitioners can quietly hold to this essential method and let no thought arise, they may suddenly feel as though awakening from a dream: the state is vast without limit, deep and unfathomable. Ancient practitioners called this “the initial state of the perfected spirit entering the portal,” meaning the state when the perfected spirit first enters the mysterious portal—the inner aperture described in cultivation. Then the movement of Qi suddenly returns to a blended, undifferentiated state. Ancient practitioners called this “the spirit creating a primordial stillness.” Next, clarity suddenly arises, and one becomes aware of all manner of changes, while the mind remains as quiet as before. Ancient practitioners called this “the living movement of the primal source naturally present in the mysterious portal,” meaning the lively functioning that manifests from the portal itself.

According to the movement of Qi, this is the wondrous state after Xu and Wei, as it approaches the beginning of “the living Zi.” In Neidan cultivation, “the living Zi” is a way of using the twelve double hours to describe changes in the movement of Qi. At this time, practitioners should feel as though standing atop a peak ten thousand feet high, with a boundless view and a state that is lofty and profound. Ancient practitioners called this “the wondrous state of the true Zi within the portal.” Then the forces of life and death respond to one another, changes have no fixed pattern, and there is much to meet and engage with; yet one remains quietly observant, without the slightest movement of thought. Ancient practitioners called this “the living Wu within the portal.”

At this point, the method of cultivation is simply to continue the work and gather the spirit inward. Ancient practitioners called this practice “the wondrous state of the true Zi within the portal.” Then the forces of life and death respond to one another, changes have no fixed pattern, and there is much to meet and engage with; yet one remains quietly observant, without the slightest movement of thought. Ancient practitioners called this “the living Wu within the portal.”

At this stage, the key to cultivation is to intensify practice and gather the mind and spirit, guiding them back to the precelestial state—the innate condition untouched by acquired distractions. This prevents Yin Qi from becoming excessive and Yang Qi from weakening, thereby bringing them into balance. This also includes the practice of “bathing”: regulating the breath during cultivation so that it neither deviates nor stagnates. Only then can one reach the state of the True Person, true perception, and true response.

This Mysterious Aperture is directly connected to the breath of Heaven and Earth’s creative transformations. Unless one’s emptiness and stillness reach the utmost degree, it cannot be opened or entered. The ancient sages said that Heaven and Earth, the Five Phases, Yin-Yang, the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity), and the arising and passing away of all things all originate here. Every great cultivator lays the foundation in this place. The six kinds of immortal retinues—those of Heaven, Water, Earth, humanity, spirits, and ghosts—also emerge from here. Queen Mother’s Ten Principles of the Proper Path for Female Cultivators explains this in detail. The way to attain them lies in the subtle resonance and response between the cultivator and the mysterious realm.

Someone asked, “If the Mysterious Pass, the One Aperture, is neither inside the body nor outside it, why is it also called the ‘Yin-Yang Aperture’? Does the human body not originally contain Yin and Yang?” The reply was: “The human body takes form by receiving the Qi of Heaven and Earth, Yin-Yang, and the Five Phases, and it too contains the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. The numinous aspect of Yin Qi is called Po, the corporeal soul; the numinous aspect of Yang Qi is called Hun, the ethereal soul. Hun and Po dwell in the body just as people dwell in a house.

“The Mysterious Pass is the gateway through which Hun and Po come and go. Yet this gateway has neither shape nor appearance; it opens and closes only in emptiness, and Hun and Po also enter and leave through emptiness. Because it is in emptiness, it is said to be outside the body—just as people dwell in a house.”

The Mysterious Gate is the portal through which the hun and po souls come and go. This portal cannot be seen or touched. It opens and closes in the void, and the souls also enter and leave through the void. Since it lies within the void, it is neither inside the body nor outside it. Every movement of the body, whether active or still, also takes place in the void. You can settle your mind and consider: Why can the body walk, stand, sit, and lie down? Why can it speak or remain silent, bend or stretch? All of this comes from the Mysterious Gate.

If you can understand where this message resides, you can recognize the portal where Yin and Yang meet, and may thereby preserve life and nature.

[Supporting testimony] The Mysterious Aperture spoken of here truly cannot be found through speculation and inference. It is not an ordinary aperture, but lies beyond the boundary between the precelestial and postcelestial. Yet, according to the Elixir Classic, “The place where a thought arises is the Mysterious Female—the wondrous portal from which all things are generated.” Therefore, during cultivation, remain empty and still, patiently waiting in the space before the spine and behind the inner palace. When the practice has matured, it will naturally become apparent.

I heard this account from the two perfected immortals, Huang and Li, who often dwell among humankind. They are said to have demonstrated their efficacy time and again. I do not dare keep it to myself, so I have carefully added it here.

Someone asked: “Since Yin and Yang are within the body, and the work of cultivating nature and life is done within oneself, it cannot be accomplished with another’s help. Why, then, did the ancients also say, ‘Do not think your own body is the Dao; you must recognize the undying root in the other family’?”

The reply was: “This saying speaks from the postcelestial perspective. When people are first born, nature and life are originally united, and Yin and Yang are a single Qi. As the body gradually grows, by around the age of sixteen Yang Qi is full, and Yin Qi begins to arise within. Thus Qian and Kun join: the center of the Qian trigram becomes empty, forming the Li trigram, while the center of the Kun trigram becomes solid, forming the Kan trigram. Nature is concealed within Li, and life is concealed within Kan.”

The true Yang hidden within Kan (one of the Eight Trigrams, symbolizing water and Yang contained within Yin) is like a tiger racing westward. Human nature and life seem beyond our control, as though we were purely Yin beings. If we cling to the physical body alone in our practice, we will cultivate only postcelestial Jing and Qi. How could we attain the complete state of pure Yang? We must therefore rely on “the deathless method of another household”—that is, the small portion of Yang essence hidden within Kan. Because it is concealed in Kan and does not already belong to me, it is called “another household”; this does not mean that it comes from somewhere outside the body. To understand “another household” as something external to the body is to slander the sacred Dao and invite the dire retribution of the Avīci Hell, where one’s tongue is torn out. Yuan Duzi said, “This small portion of Yang essence is secretly stored in the mountain of the bodily form. It is neither in the heart nor in the kidneys, but in the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass”—the crucial aperture spoken of in cultivation. This is what he meant.

[Reference note] The commentary holds that this answer still concerns the preliminary methods by which an Earthly Immortal (one of the levels of immortality in Daoism) strengthens the foundation and replenishes the original endowment. Practice can scarcely succeed if the Mysterious Pass has not opened. Our late teacher, Elder Taixu, said, “Although Yuan Duzi understood Confucian learning and received the true transmission, regrettably he held something back. Yet when he said, ‘It is neither in the heart nor in the kidneys, but in the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass,’ he had already disclosed something. He simply did not explain it fully, which could instead mislead people.” Such was our late teacher’s view.

Looking at it now, was Master Wuyuan’s answer also misled by Chen’s teaching? Chen likely spoke this way with a purpose. The only one who truly saw through Chen’s teaching was Patriarch Chen of the Mud Pill Palace, of our Southern Lineage. Moved by it, Patriarch Chen lamented, “Patriarch Zhang Ziyang did not take sufficient care in his reasoning.” If even a sage such as Patriarch Zhang Ziyang could be misled by Chen’s teaching, what is so surprising about Zhao Zhen of Yuan Du being misled?

I have read his book, which records the “Buddha Assembly Without Barriers,” and also says, “If one has not received true transmission, how could one understand the method of gathering?” This shows that Zhao Zhen must also have heard of the secret of gathering. Yet, like Master Wuyuan, he feared the punishment for revealing Heaven’s secrets, and so disclosed only this much. Still, when he says, “The key lies not in the heart and kidneys, but in the one aperture of the Mysterious Pass,” he has already hinted at the formula for cultivation.

Later practitioners who wish to restore their depleted primordial Qi should work through “deep plowing and planting the seed.” Only then can they go on to apply the subtle method of gathering. Without understanding deep plowing and planting the seed, one cannot return to the root and restore the original. The work of deep plowing must begin with the “Three Contemplations” (a method of cultivating awareness of body and mind). Only when this practice is perfected can the seed be planted. What is the seed? It is the “kindred substance” (the pre-Heaven Qi that accords with one’s own). Only by recognizing the kindred substance and understanding the method of gathering can one cause the fetal origin to coalesce and become complete. To accomplish this is surely more than merely preserving one’s primordial Qi!

Unless the beginning and end of cultivation are clearly pointed out, people will inevitably continue to believe false teachings. I heard Old Man Taixu say, “False teachings spread because people’s practice has not broken through the Pass and they do not recognize the kindred substance. To explain directly how to break through the Pass, it is best first to settle body and mind in a state prior to the pre-Heaven, and cultivate until one is free and unobstructed. Then there is no need to force the practice: the Mysterious Pass opens of itself, and one can see it and enter it firsthand. But remember: do not cling to appearances or thoughts, and do not miss the moment right before you.”

When the practice first produces a response, if a thought arises as soon as one sees a manifestation, the Mysterious Pass immediately disappears. The subtle state also shifts with one’s thoughts, even raising the fear that the practice cannot be sustained. The formula is to settle one’s mind and spirit in a state beyond awareness, and cultivate until no thoughts arise and even the slightest glimmer of awareness has fallen silent. This is the utmost state of primordial stillness and obscurity, the state of entering deeply into the Mysterious Aperture.

When a thought suddenly stirs, observe it closely in stillness. It may feel as though inhalation and exhalation are responding to each other, or as though something sounds without being struck. This is the sign that “Yang first stirs.” At this moment, continue to follow the formula of stillness while avoiding the fault of sinking into rigid immobility.

The key lies in “closing, stirring, penetrating, and entering” (gathering and closing, setting in motion, opening a passage through, and going deep). This is the moment when the true pass—the bodily and mental aperture spoken of in cultivation—opens and reveals itself. If inhalation and exhalation seem to answer one another, and the breath sounds on its own as it passes between them, without being struck, this is a sign that “Yang stirs for the first time,” with Yang Qi beginning to arise. At this point, apply the formula of “stillness as usual”: keep the mind and spirit calm as they ordinarily are, while also avoiding the fault of becoming “woodenly fixed”—the body rigid and motionless.

The key still lies in “closing, stirring, penetrating, and entering”; this is when the true pass opens wide. If you fall into “wooden stillness,” ancient practitioners called it “stiffly standing within and without,” meaning that both the inner and outer realms have become rigid. At this stage of cultivation, body and mind gradually unfold like spring and summer, in a scene of warm sunlight and gentle breezes, blooming flowers and dense willows. If the True Qi seems to have stopped moving and the gates of the senses are all sealed, leaving not a single aperture open, then the moment has been missed.

If the mind and spirit chase after things, and confused thoughts make you lose your original nature, you are pursuing external things and will also lead yourself astray. The key is to open up without constraining the original Yuan, allowing body and mind to accord with the realm in which you find yourself. At the same time, keep inward composure and focus, letting the mind become empty and still. You will then sense a deep, nourishing state within. Though the external scene is full of things, simply let them be as they are and do not chase after them. This is the state of cultivation that reaches the mysterious realm in which “at noon, all paths open together.”

The key is to begin “withdrawing Yin,” the process of cultivation that causes Yin Qi to recede, while merely holding the intention and gathering the will. Yuan Qi naturally returns like clouds to a cavern; all that appears is rosy light encircling an empty valley. In an instant, cultivation shifts from harmony to solemnity, entering the mysterious realm associated with the hours of Shen and You.

After quietly observing for a time, if the scene takes on the stillness of winter, this is the stage of the first line of the Qian trigram. The practitioner must not stop here. The key is to gather the spirit and intention back into the lower Dantian, the inner cultivation center in the lower abdomen, so that the work fills and harmonizes the whole body; then stop peacefully. This is the initial method for cultivating the mysterious pass.

After practicing in this way for a hundred days, one can discuss how to advance the cultivation further. As for formulas such as “placing the seed,” those with the capacity may plan in advance to prepare the Yuan seed, the fundamental seed spoken of in inner cultivation. Those with less capacity may quietly withdraw and dwell amid the bustle of the city or the court. Further still, the best course is to establish in purity an unrestricted Buddhist assembly, open to all. Planning, accomplishment, secluded cultivation, and holding an assembly differ from one another, yet each contains its own profound and wondrous function.

The material discussed above explains only the crucial step of “deep cultivation.” Ancient practitioners called it the foundation of the learning of nature and life—the study of cultivating one’s mind and nature, and one’s life. This is the Great Dao that Master Wuyuan had not yet openly transmitted. I worry that later students may stray onto the wrong path and become impossible to save even after a lifetime, so I have added this explanation here.

These teachings, however, are said to have been solemnly sworn to by sages and perfected beings of successive generations, and passed on orally in the middle of the night. They were never written down. Scholars who read them should not treat them as ordinary words. Everything hinges on “deep cultivation”: shallow effort brings little reward, while mature, refined effort brings much. This is an important principle; do not let it lead you astray.

“Setting the seed” means forming a vigorous, living Qi dynamic in the Elixir Chamber—a place symbolizing the cultivation of body and mind in Neidan—in order to resonate with the True Origin, the original primordial Qi. A man draws in the Kun Origin, the Yin nature’s primordial Qi; a woman draws in the Qian Origin, the Yang nature’s primordial Qi. When these two kinds of Qi interact in a state of emptiness and stillness, something is born. The practitioner then uses their own body as a medium, guiding the two into the body to unite, like a husband and wife coming together. This is the method by which immortals extend life and resonate with the True Origin.

One must first expand one’s own Yin’e—the inner area that receives and contains Qi in cultivation—and inwardly resonate with the Three Origins, the three fundamental elements spoken of in cultivation, such as Jing, Qi, and Shen. With the aid of the True Fire, the power of refinement in Neidan, one refines away the Yin and preserves the Yang. After daily and monthly refinement, when the work has become integrated, one acts once the time is ripe. Resonating with the Kun Mother, which symbolizes the Yin source, one receives the Human Origin’s True Unity, the pure, undivided Qi within the human body, as it descends into oneself. When it unites and responds to one’s own true Qi, the True Fire appears naturally. Refine a Millet Pearl, a metaphor for the tiny essence condensed through Neidan, and guide it with intention into the Central Yellow, the central region of inner refinement in the body. There it revolves like a pearl at the very center, surrounded by an atmosphere like clouds of rosy light. Envision it as a woman carrying a child; this is called forming the embryo.

The method of cultivation consists only in nourishing it with an empty and still mind, warming and nourishing it each day and protecting it at every moment. Continue nurturing it in this way. When the work reaches a certain degree, one enters a state that is difficult to define as “is” or “is not,” “two” or “not two.” This is the method for attaining the status of a Celestial Immortal.

This is the wondrous teaching of my master, Elder Daxu. It is precisely what Master Wuyuan described as the true function that becomes possible after one has attained “the completed body of pure Yang.” In Master Wuyuan’s view, however, mere illusory sensations of Qi arising and interacting do not yet warrant calling it “the completed body of pure Yang.” I have not yet fully explained the stages of firing and the methods of cultivation, so I will add to the discussion here.

Someone asked, “Do both nature and life belong to Kan and Li? Does the heart belong to Li and the kidneys to Kan?”

I replied, “These are Kan and Li in the postcelestial physical body, not Kan and Li in the precelestial Dharma Body—the true original body spoken of in cultivation. In the Dharma Body, Li is so called because its central Yang line has been lost; Kan is so called because true Yang has sunk into its middle. With the Yang line gone from Li, what remains is Yin. True Yang is hidden within Kan, so Yang is concealed there.

“Li symbolizes the sun’s soul and manifests as brightness, yet its exterior is firm while its interior is soft Yin; therefore, the Hun contains the Po—the Yin aspect of the spirit, which is the counterpart of the Hun. Kan symbolizes the moon’s soul and manifests as darkness, yet its exterior is dark while its interior is pure white; therefore, the Po contains the Hun. Yin within Yang and Yang within Yin: these possess the centered form of Qian and Kun, which symbolize Heaven and Earth and Yin-Yang. This is true Yin and true Yang, the foundation of nature and life.

“What Neidan cultivation gathers and refines are these two kinds of Qi, fusing them into the true state so that a person may transcend the ordinary and enter the realm of the sage. How could this be equated with the tangible Kan and Li of the postcelestial physical body?”

Question: “Kan and Li are what are called true Yin and true Yang. When ‘taking Kan to fill Li,’ what Yang is taken, and what Yin is filled?”

Answer: “This refers to returning from the postcelestial to the precelestial. The Yin to be filled is the Yin within myself: that is, what has formed after birth and belongs to false Yin. It refers to the seven substances within the Li trigram: the body’s nasal mucus, saliva, Jing, bodily fluids, Qi, blood, and other fluids. These seven numinous substances are difficult to retain for long. The Yang within the Kan trigram, by contrast, comes from ‘the other household’—that is, it is true precelestial Yang. Taking the true Yang from Kan to fill the false Yin in the Li trigram of my body is like a cat catching a mouse: the precelestial transforms and nurtures the postcelestial, and true Yang restrains false Yin. False Yin must not be mistaken for true Yin. False Yin is generated by Heaven and Earth, whereas true Yin arose before Heaven and Earth. How could the two be confused?”

Question: “What practical difference is there between true Yin-Yang and false Yin-Yang? Could you explain?”

Answer: “True Yin-Yang is like a husband and wife formally joined through a matchmaker; false Yin-Yang is like a man and woman secretly consorting. Once illicit relations are exposed, life and vitality suffer harm. They bring no benefit, only harm. A couple formally joined through a matchmaker can live openly and have children. Who could separate them or bring them to ruin? What is true can bring things to completion; what is false brings them to ruin. Therefore, the perfected person who cultivates the Dao rejects the false and takes the true.”

Question: “When harmonizing Yin and Yang, one must use the Yellow Matron as a matchmaker. Where is the Yellow Matron?”

Answer: “The Yellow Matron is Central Earth—the Earth at the center, which serves as the medium for harmonizing Yin and Yang. The Yi Jing says, ‘The yellow center penetrates and orders.’ Central Earth’s role is to harmonize Yin and Yang, bring together the Four Images—the four states formed through the changing interaction of Yin and Yang—and gather the Five Phases. Without Central Earth in cultivation, how could Yin and Yang be harmonized, the Four Images brought together, or the Five Phases gathered? Earth is the token of trust linking Yin and Yang, the Four Images, and the Five Phases. That is why, in each of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—Earth governs for eighteen days: this expresses Earth’s role as a pledge and a medium.”

Question: “Is earth divided into true and false, innate and acquired forms?” Answer: “Certainly. For example, in each of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter—there are eighteen days called ‘Earth’s Sovereignty.’ The earth spoken of here cannot be seen or touched. It is innate, the Qi of earth. The soil on the ground, by contrast, has form and substance. It is acquired, the substance of earth. Qi is true earth; substance is false earth. Earth is not the only thing with true and false forms; the Four Symbols and the Five Phases are divided in the same way.”

Question: “If false earth is of no use, why can the earth on the ground still give birth to all things?” Answer: “True earth must rely on false earth to function, while false earth must rely on true earth to take concrete form. Without false earth, true earth cannot manifest; without true earth, false earth cannot manifest either. The false contains the true, and the true also contains the false. The Great Dao—the fundamental principle of the cosmos—returning to the innate within the acquired is another way of expressing this principle.”

Question: “The Cantong qi says that if Kan and Li lack Wu and Ji, then even though they contain the Four Symbols, they cannot form the Elixir. Are these two earths, Wu and Ji, other names for true and false earth?” Answer: “Here, Wu and Ji refer to the innate earth I have described, not the acquired earth. There are Wu and Ji in the innate, and Wu and Ji in the acquired.

“From the innate perspective, Li contains Ji and Kan contains Wu. Wu is earth that contains movement within stillness and belongs to Yang; Ji is earth that contains stillness within movement and belongs to Yin. ‘Stabilizing the position at the central palace’ refers to still earth; ‘summoning and gathering the innate’ refers to moving earth. When these two kinds of earth are present and then joined with Kan and Li, so that Water and Fire intermingle, the Elixir can form. This is the way of reversing the course: the direction of cultivation that returns from the acquired to the innate.”

From the postcelestial perspective, the single Yin line in the Li trigram is false Yin, an impure form of Yin: it is exposed on the surface but dark within, and belongs to the restless Ji Earth. The single Yang line in the Kan trigram is false Yang, an impure form of Yang: upright Qi is blocked while deviant Qi is exposed, and it belongs to the rashly active Wu Earth. These two qualities of Earth can damage a person’s life and nature, preventing Water and Fire from harmonizing and thereby harming the cultivation of the Dao. Given this difference, how can they be treated as one and the same?

Question: “Are the precelestial Wu Earth and Ji Earth used together, or separately?”

Answer: “In the return of the Elixir—the stage of refining and nourishing Neidan, gathering the medicinal substance, and refining the Elixir—one uses the Ji Earth within the body to draw in the Wu Earth from outside, gathering the medicinal substance as though the Ji Earth actively sought the Wu Earth. In the Great Elixir—the further stage of coalescing Neidan—the Wu Earth from outside approaches the Ji Earth within the body, allowing emotion to return to nature and forming fetal breathing, the state in which Neidan coalesces. This is using them separately.

When gathering the medicinal substance, if the Ji Earth within the body does not first stir, the Wu Earth from outside will not respond; if the Wu Earth from outside does not move, the Ji Earth within the body will not respond either. When the inner and outer work together, the medicinal substance arises from emptiness. When forming the embryo, if the Ji Earth within the body does not receive it, the Wu Earth from outside cannot readily approach; if the Wu Earth from outside does not move, the Ji Earth within the body cannot readily act. Movement and stillness are one, and the embryo of the inner Elixir then naturally coalesces. This is using them together.”

Question: What is the difference between the principles of Returning the Elixir and the Great Elixir?

Answer: Returning the Elixir means bringing things back to their source—that is, returning from the acquired state to the primordial state. The Great Elixir means cultivating the source, so that what was originally formless gives rise to a real form.

After a person’s Yang Qi reaches its peak and Yin Qi begins to arise, Yin Qi gradually consumes Yang Qi. The primordial Qi is dispersed along with it, and the loss grows greater over time. “Returning” means following the methods of cultivation to draw in and gather this Qi, gradually restoring its original primordial amount. It is like finding again what was lost, or having what departed return. This is Returning the Elixir.

Yet even when the original amount of primordial Qi has been restored, without refining it through the stages of the firing process, the formless cannot become form, nor the insubstantial become substantial. Therefore, after Returning the Elixir, one must set up the furnace and cauldron anew—symbolic implements used in alchemical practice—cast “Lead” into “Mercury” and use “Mercury” to nourish “Lead” (both are symbolic terms in the alchemical tradition), then refine them with the natural true fire until they become an indestructible substance. Only when it can endure alongside Heaven and Earth and rival the brilliance of the sun and moon has the source been fully regained. Otherwise, if one completes Returning the Elixir but does not cultivate the Great Elixir, the source may be restored, but it will not be secure and may eventually be lost again.

The Can Zheng says: “The final step of Returning the Elixir is to bring its wondrous application into everyday life.” The crucial stages that alchemical cultivation must pass through each have their own aims and directions, so they cannot all be treated as the same. Yet these stages are all described as “setting up the furnace anew and establishing the cauldron once more.” The cauldron and furnace are only metaphors.

The explanation by Wu Yuanzi follows methods handed down since the Han and Tang dynasties, without tracing them back to the Supreme Master’s Heart Lineage, a school that transmits the Dao through the heart. Hence the phrase “setting up the furnace anew and establishing the cauldron once more.” This method may have continued the story of Pei Hang, or it may have inherited the hidden, wondrous teaching of Patriarch Xue. In either case, it follows the essential principles and achieves the wondrous work of cultivation.

The Taishang Heart School I teach, a lineage centered on realizing the original mind, is rooted in the primordial basis. The essentials of Returning the Elixir and the Great Elixir also lie here, so this is the Nondual Gate—the one fundamental path. Its workings are subtle and mysterious, profound and difficult to fathom, yet also utterly ordinary and accessible. Consider its principles closely, and its scope is as vast as the sea, its subtleties as numerous as the sands of the Ganges.

Those who study the Dao need only cultivate a thousand hands and a thousand eyes—a metaphor for vast wisdom and its capacities—and refine an immeasurable storehouse of teachings, a metaphor for a realm of cultivation embracing many methods. Within this storehouse lies a jewel that draws metal; one finds it there and receives it for oneself.

This jewel arises from Wuji, the undivided origin. It has no form or image, no sound or scent. The sages of antiquity could not name it. Only because it can bring substance forth from the insubstantial, and seems to be a stone yet is not a stone, did they reluctantly call it a “jewel.” How could it truly be a lodestone? A person’s True Unity—the inner nature that is pure and genuine—is what resembles it.

The thousand hands and thousand eyes, and the immeasurable storehouse of teachings, are likewise refined through the work of overcoming the self: restraining private desires and gathering oneself inward. My former teacher, Master Taixu, once explained these mysteries in this way. Examined closely, the method of cultivation amounts to letting go of tangled concerns and keeping one’s attention wholly on Kun, the receptive, still aspect. From this, the work of cultivation begins. That is the principle. I would not dare claim it as my own; I offer it only to supplement what Mr. Wuyuan left unexplained.

Someone asked, “Are Returning the Elixir and the Great Elixir the inner and outer medicines?” The reply was, “…”

“Are the Restored Elixir and the Great Elixir simply the inner medicine and outer medicine, respectively?”

“There are several ways of explaining this. Looking at the entire course of Elixir practice, the method for prolonging life is called the outer medicine, while the cultivation that awakens one to one’s original nature is called the inner medicine. Without the outer medicine, one cannot escape the illusory fleshly body; without the inner medicine, one cannot escape the constraints of the Dharma Body. The outer medicine forms the embryo, while the inner medicine frees one from the embryo. In discussions of the Restored Elixir, Kan, one of the Eight Trigrams and a symbol of water, is the outer medicine, while Li, a symbol of fire, is the inner medicine. In discussions of the Great Elixir, true lead is the outer medicine and true mercury is the inner medicine. The ancients’ explanations each point to something different; they should not be confined to their literal wording or outward appearances.

“True lead is in Kan and true mercury in Li. The Restored Elixir has already formed, and lead and mercury have already united! Why, then, are lead and mercury found again in the Great Elixir? Are there four kinds of lead and mercury?”

“The lead in Kan and mercury in Li described in the Restored Elixir are the primordial lead and mercury concealed within the postcelestial. Refine them back out, and this is called the Restored Elixir; it is also called the Golden Elixir, the true seed, or true lead.

“Use it to transform the yin mercury within yourself, just as a lodestone attracts iron. This yin mercury is the seven kinds of cinnabar in Li. Once mercury receives the breath of lead, it solidifies in an instant. Then, using the natural true fire within the already-congealed true mercury, nourish it for ten months, regulating the fire’s timing through the methods of extraction and addition. The lead breath flies off piece by piece, leaving only pure, unified numinous cinnabar. When pure Yang is attained and no Yin remains, the Dharma Body is complete.”

Someone asked, “The Golden Elixir, the achievement sought through Neidan cultivation, is formed by combining lead and mercury. If mercury is meant to subdue lead, yet we are also told to warm and nourish them for ten months until the lead disperses and the mercury dries up, aren’t these claims contradictory?”

The reply was, “This is a crucial secret of cultivation. It has puzzled countless students throughout the ages, and among all those thousands upon thousands, who has truly understood it? The so-called numinous cinnabar is a substance of innate utmost Yang. When Yang reaches its extreme, Yin arises; the innate enters the acquired, and what is true becomes mixed with what is false. Unless true lead from ‘the other household’ comes to subdue it, this numinous cinnabar can never truly become mine.

“True lead holds within it the innate Qi of the True One. Use this lead Qi to transform the numinous mercury within yourself, and the mercury will not be lost. At this point the mercury has been subdued. Yet unless the lead Qi is drawn out completely, the numinous cinnabar cannot congeal.

“Why is this so? Though lead is innate Qi, it manifests through the acquired. Its outer aspect belongs to Yin, while its inner aspect belongs to Yang, so it still carries Yin Qi. Only by drawing out the Yin Qi within it can one attain a state of strength, vitality, and balance, revealing a precious pearl the size of a millet grain: radiant within and without, and permeating Heaven and Earth. When expanded, it fills the six directions; when gathered, it is concealed in the most subtle depths.

“The Wuzhen (Wuzhen Pian, a Daoist Neidan classic) says: ‘In using lead, do not use ordinary lead; even when you use true lead, you must relinquish it. This is the true secret of using lead: it seems that lead is used, yet in the end one does not cling to lead.’ From this, one can understand the principle of using lead.

“The Canzheng says: The same principle applies to mercury. As with lead and mercury, so too with the Four Symbols, the Five Phases, Heaven and Earth, human beings, and all things. This is what is meant by ‘use Qi, not substance.’ To take it further, this is the Great Dao of ‘using the innate, not the acquired’—understanding the subtle meaning of returning. Those who study the Dao should grasp this and put it into practice.”

The Dao Jing says: “Refine Jing into Qi, and refine Qi into Shen.” Here, “transform” means to change one thing into another. “Use Qi, not substance” means to work with vital energy rather than cling to physical matter. This step goes further than the preceding one: the Great Dao first makes use of its source and does not depend on the forms and substances that arise later. Here lies the subtle meaning of “returning” — guiding life from dispersion back to its source. Those who study the Way should put this into practice for themselves.

The Dao Jing also says: “Refine Jing into Qi, refine Qi into Shen, refine Shen until it returns to emptiness, refine emptiness until it unites with the Dao, and refine the Dao until it emerges as nature.” This is the sequence of returning through cultivation. At this stage, one can take charge of life and death. If one’s practice does not reach this point, one may meet obstacles, fall back, and in the end be left to the will of Heaven. Would that not be a pity? To understand what cultivation can accomplish, one must begin by fully realizing one’s own nature and exhausting one’s own capacity. Until one has done this work on one’s nature and life, one cannot fully realize one’s original nature or bring one’s life to rest. This is also the teaching my master, Elder Great Emptiness, left behind.

Someone asked: “Returning the Elixir, the stage in which Jing and Qi are made to return and gather, differs from forming the Great Elixir, the further stage of refining the Neidan. Does the timing of the Fire Cycle differ as well?” The answer was: “Yes. The Fire Cycle for returning the Elixir takes place at the living Zi hour; for the Great Elixir, it takes place at the proper Zi hour.

“The living Zi hour is not fixed to a particular time. In the course of a day, the changes of Yin and Yang associated with Zi and Wu may arise at any moment. The proper Zi hour, by contrast, extends across one double-hour and concerns the completion of the Great Elixir.

“‘Zi and Wu within each quarter-hour’ means that in every quarter-hour Yin begins to arise and Yang grows. At Zi, advance Yang; at Wu, withdraw Yin. The Ruyao Jing says: ‘Within a single day, across the twelve double-hours, wherever the mind’s attention rests, one may practice.’ This means that practice follows the mind’s observation of Yin and Yang waxing and waning. This is precisely the living Zi hour: gathering the medicine — the Jing and Qi needed for cultivation — is not limited to a fixed time.”

At the moment when the alchemical work reaches maturity, a person’s De (Virtue) accords with Heaven and Earth, discernment accords with the sun and moon, the rhythms of life accord with the four seasons, and the response of fortune and misfortune accords with spirits and ghosts. This moment is exceedingly difficult to encounter and easy to miss; it concerns life and death, and one’s very life. Those who have achieved success in cultivation make full use of their work at this moment and seize the crucial opportunity, drawing fully on the creative transformations of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things. They bring the “Dragon” and “Tiger” together, then use the “Tiger” to control the “Dragon,” gathering them in the Yellow Chamber—a technical term for the place within the body where the Elixir forms—and condensing them into the supreme treasure. This is “Elixir formation in a single moment,” the “true Zi hour,” a technical term for the crucial moment when the Great Medicine stirs and is ready to be gathered and refined, when Yin and Yang are brought into harmony.

Question: When the living Zi hour or the true Zi hour arrives, how can one know?

Answer: Without knowing the timing, there is no way to apply the methods of cultivation. The living Zi hour refers to the primordial, true Yang being obscured by acquired Qi, so that it cannot stir of its own accord. Even when it does stir now and then, it is mixed with human desires and soon vanishes again. Why does this happen? Because what is false has been mistaken for what is real. At the first stirring of primordial Qi, those who have achieved success in cultivation follow the method to capture and gather it, collecting it gradually. Once the medicine has accumulated in sufficient quantity, they nurture it with warmth until Qi is abundant and Shen (spirit) is complete.

When the true Zi hour arrives, the Great Medicine stirs. The cultivator gathers, refines, and takes it in over a brief span, joining it with their own true mercury—a technical term symbolizing Yin essence—and restoring the original Qi before the separation of undifferentiated Chaos. This is to accord with the creative transformations of Heaven and Earth. After taking the Elixir, one passes through the “seven days of Chaos,” as if dying and then being reborn. The changes in the acquired hexagram Qi complete their course, and the primordial root begins to show. One then moves from deliberately applying the methods of cultivation into the realm of Wuwei (non-action).

The Commentary on Verification says: This passage speaks from the perspective of cultivation methods transmitted since the Qin and Han dynasties, and so it contains many complicated explanations. The steps of these methods are difficult, their effects are hard to achieve, and very few people succeed in cultivation. Their problem is that they do not take their stand before the primordial.

This method places great emphasis on practical technique and results. Primordial Qi (the original vital energy believed to be present from birth) is almost impossible to encounter. Thus, what is called “Chaos” is actually Yang Qi sunk within Yin, and it must take seven days for the Yang Qi to emerge. Some may ask: if this method can enable people to commune with spirits and undergo transformation, how could the world remain unaware of it and fail to revere it? Yet it has not the slightest accord with the Great Dao. Our lineage has grave reservations about it. Though my own virtue is shallow, I dare not echo others’ claims.

My master, Elder Taixu, also spoke about this method. He said that whether one practices alone or in sexual cultivation with a partner, an attendant must be present to watch over the practitioner. Those who practice alone enter a meditative state, and should instruct the attendant to prepare a fine qing (a Buddhist ritual instrument whose tone rings clear and long) and strike it beside the practitioner’s ear. When the sound is about to fade, the attendant should strike it again. Someone in a shallow meditative state will wake at a single strike; someone in a deeper state can also be awakened by three, five, or seven strikes. Both solitary and partnered practice require an attendant’s care. If the attendant merely moves the practitioner’s body, only two or three people in ten will wake. After waking, they will certainly show unusual symptoms. The same is true of partnered practice. If the practitioner still cannot be awakened, the attendant must remain focused and keep watch; if necessary, the attendant can press their mouth and nose tightly against the practitioner’s, which is the only way to bring them around. If the practitioner loses consciousness completely, both people engaged in partnered practice will die; a solitary practitioner will die alone.

My late master said: “Once, while traveling around Dongting, I passed a thatched hermitage. It was where Master Jing had taken up residence to practice. Master Jing held an open Buddhist assembly there every year, welcoming people of every status. That day, before I had even entered, I saw an old woman come out, looking flustered. Before long, a child ran out after her, calling ‘Mother!’ with joy on his face. I went up and asked what had happened. The child said, ‘Aunt Qing has woken up!’ The old woman went back with him. I found this strange, so I followed the others…”

Before I had time to ask anything, Qinggu had already come down the steps. She was delighted to see me and said, “It really is you. It really is you.” Then she led me inside.

Qinggu said, “So-and-so was seated on the east side, so-and-so on the west, and so-and-so to the left of the seat on the north. The seat on the right was mine. After my spirit and awareness left my body, I saw Master standing quietly beside the nunnery, and then I woke up. I thought I had been dreaming, but I never imagined it really was Master.” She then recounted the strange events that had taken place after everyone in the hall had chanted the Buddha’s name and taken their seats.

After hearing her, I composed myself and examined the group carefully. I judged that none of them showed signs of having died. So I picked up the hand-held chime, a small percussion instrument used to mark the rhythm of a ritual, and struck it in turn. The people on the east and west sides all awoke. Only the person seated to Qinggu’s left remained asleep, even after I struck it seven times. I had Qinggu sit firmly on the right and told her to gather her spirit and focus her mind on the still body. After a while, that person also awoke.

Everyone prostrated themselves and bowed, saying, “We were in a misty place and could not tell east from west. Suddenly, as if a Pulao—a mythical dragon-shaped beast said to love making sounds, here referring to a bell—had sent a gust of wind, our minds grew a little calmer, and we awoke.”

There was also a monk seated on the left, Qinggu’s maternal cousin from Tonglu. He was sixteen and a disciple of the nunnery’s abbess, Master Jing. He said, “A thick mist covered my eyes, and I wandered by mistake into an ice cellar. My body became stiff, and I could not move. I heard the bell humming, but the mist grew even thicker. Then a wave of warmth suddenly swept over me, penetrating body and mind, and my spirit came back to life. When I heard Master calling me, I felt as though I were waking from a dream.”

I told everyone, “This is entering samādhi: quieting the mind through meditation and entering a state of concentration. If this happens again, do not move the bed under any circumstances. Continue to summon those who have not awakened with the sound of the chime. Among those entering samādhi together in one place, even if someone wakes first, they must not leave their seat at once. They must wait until everyone has awakened before rising.

“This time, the entire hall entered samādhi together—a rare opportunity, one that comes once in a thousand ages. Unfortunately, everyone had only just entered the undivided state of primordial chaos and had not yet reached the realm of clarity and stillness. If you could wait until spring, when the weather is mild and the scenery bright, and see the stars and moon, the deep expanse of blue waters, and hibiscus lining the banks, then enter chaos once more and awaken from it, you would be close to attaining the Dao. Now Master Jing has also fallen into this state, and there is no one in charge at the hermitage. How could I cling to the scriptures and fail to adapt to circumstances? Still, this matter has already been reported to Qingyun for protection, and the Buddha-Heaven will surely grant its mercy and shelter. That is why I stood motionless beside the hermitage. Qing Gu, all of you should press on.”

This instruction left by the late master was recorded by Mr. Qiaoyun in the Jingai Diary. It can serve as a guide for those cultivating the Dao, so I have added it here.

Someone asked, “Once the Way of the Golden Elixir has been perfected, it can never be lost. Why, then, is there a danger of dying and coming back to life?”

The reply was, “The true Zi hour—the crucial moment within the Zi hour—is the time when nature and life are joined anew. When true Lead is cast into Mercury and Lead and Mercury blend, the pulses throughout the body cease, and every thought becomes completely still. In this key opening of primordial chaos, the slightest carelessness can cause the Great Elixir to leak away. This is the most critical juncture: nature and life may be renewed through it, or they may be harmed. That is why the ancients said, ‘Seven days in primordial chaos, dying and returning to life: all depends on a companion harmonizing Water and Fire.’”

Someone asked, “The signs that the Golden Elixir is forming appear within oneself. How can a companion harmonize Water and Fire?”

The reply was, “This does not mean Water and Fire harmonized by an external companion, but an inner companion and inner Water and Fire. A companion is someone whose mind and intent accord with yours, who can harmonize Yin-Yang and lend you aid. As the saying goes, ‘At first, I am the host and he the guest; later, I am the guest and he the host. We meet, our natures and feelings in accord; person and self communicate, and Lead and Mercury can then congeal.’”

Water and Fire brew one another in the crucible, the symbolic setting of Daoist alchemy. The practitioner governs the Dragon and Tiger, bringing them together and harmonizing their natures. The person and the medicine being refined within them become attuned; Lead and Mercury, terms in Neidan symbolizing Yin-Yang essence and Qi, thereby congeal.

Water and Fire brew one another in the crucible, while the Dragon and Tiger swallow and devour one another in the Cavern of Creation, a symbol of the workings of transformation. Shen and Qi gather, and the Infant appears in form. Without the help of a fellow practitioner, how could one reach this stage? Yet such a companion is exceedingly hard to find. Alas, if ordinary people wish to obtain treasures from Heaven, they must exchange worldly goods for them. If they wish only to give little and cling tightly to what they have, the immortals will never come.

The commentary says: This passage answers the question of the “inner companion” needed for the Dragon and Tiger to unite—that is, someone whose intentions are in harmony with one’s own. It does not refer to the physical union of a man and a woman, but to the effects produced by the interaction of Qi and Shen, from which one treasure after another is obtained. Though called “treasures,” these are not material objects. The commentary compares them to the yellow leaves the holy maiden used to stop a child from crying: they are expedient symbols, not real gold. The commentator believes that Master Wuyuan may not have experienced this personally, and may therefore have understood the ancient state of stillness at its utmost, in which response brings forth heavenly treasures, as “the Infant taking form.” Later students should consider this carefully.

If the companion here means a fellow practitioner who helps “plant the seed,” then neither person loosens their clothes or belt. They meet and communicate through pure Qi and Shen, swallowing and devouring one another in a realm of empty clarity. The practitioner need only open up a space of emptiness within themselves and wait quietly. If a seed Dragon and seed Tiger take form through spiritual communion, they will naturally descend into the valley of the Dantian and merge with one’s own Mercury Qi. At this point, one need only redouble one’s commitment to stillness and emptiness and put aside inner distractions; no other change will occur. When the work is complete, one will feel inwardly more peaceful and at ease than before.

If, by the favor of Heaven’s fate, during the union of a man and a woman one senses the Holy Father and Holy Mother of Heaven—the exalted deities who symbolize the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth in Daoism—then Jing and Qi unite in the empty expanse, and the Heavenly Treasure appears. This is the precious Jing and Qi spoken of in cultivation. Like the sun and moon, the two hang together in the void. If, at that moment, my Yin’e—the inner capacity to receive and contain Jing and Qi—is broad, my True Yin, the Yin essence that corresponds to Yang Qi in cultivation, is abundant, and it has accumulated deeply and without limit, I can use intention to rise up and receive it. The Heavenly Treasure will then come naturally, as precisely as a needle cast into a mustard seed, without the slightest error or any other change.

If my own Yin’e is not yet ready and my True Yin is insufficient, I can only receive a little of its lingering shade, like someone warming their back in the sun. If I overestimate myself and foolishly try to reach up for it with intention, I will surely risk the fire burning Mount Kunlun and reducing both jade and stone to ashes. Even a companion who understands me would turn to ashes alongside me.

When ancient cultivators spoke of the “Heavenly Treasure,” they meant this Jing and Qi; when they spoke of “worldly wealth,” they meant the Yin’e and True Yin. The Heavenly Treasure is more fierce than a ball of fire. If I lack the True Yin to match it, and my body moves along with it, my physical form will turn to ashes at once. This cannot be remedied. Even when the Heavenly Treasure one receives, as in your case, is a life-filled substance born of Yin and Yang uniting, after guiding it to arrive one must first examine oneself: if the learning of nature and life—the study of cultivating the mind and one’s life—is not yet fully understood, and the foundations for cultivating nature and life are not yet complete, there is still great danger. A companion who understands must therefore quietly assist and protect one from the side, so that all may pass safely.

When Jing and Qi return to the Northern Sea—the region within the body where they are stored—the greatest danger is the scorching influence of fire from the south. Here, “fire” means the fire of desire. At this point, an extraordinary sense of pleasure does indeed arise. I am not a youth untouched by sexual experience; even if I were, having long since become aware of such things, I would surely have heard of them. The ways of the world are such that innocence is hard to preserve. Once one has personally experienced this pleasure, it is difficult to avoid slipping into sexual desire. This is extremely dangerous and must be guarded against strictly in advance. The Master took this into account too, which is why he warned earlier that one must not be even slightly negligent. When practitioners encounter this situation, they must immediately gather in body and mind, bringing the heart and spirit to a state of emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). They must also settle their feelings between the spine and the heart, a practice called “following the ridge of Gen”—gathering the spirit along the ridge of the back, at the position associated with the Gen trigram. Yet even then, a deviation may occur again. A trusted companion must therefore stay nearby to offer support, while the practitioner remains constantly alert. The three of them must observe these instructions together, using a struck chime as a signal.

The ancient sages left behind a set of methods, recorded as follows: Use the method to raise the dark Sha at Yongquan—the cultivation term for Yin energy drawn up from the Yongquan point on the sole of the foot—and bring it together with the Mysterious Mandate at the Sea Bottom, the vital root Qi in the region of the lower Dantian. Carefully and alertly circulate it in reverse, so that the Qi rises from the far reaches of the Northern Sea, traveling upward along the back through the spine to the brain. It gathers in the empty space at the crown of the head, then flows down toward the front. Practitioners will feel the fire Qi descend from the face along the front of the chest, while a Xun wind—the inner Qi associated with wind—must also stir within the body. Next, they will sense that Heaven and Earth have become wholly dark and yellow; then Heaven clears and Earth grows calm. Only then may they quietly guard the Mysterious Aperture, the subtle opening within the body, and carry out the initial stage represented by the first line of the Qian trigram. After breathing four or six times, they should stop. This is called “assisting the regulation,” or supporting the regulation of the breath.

In other words, one uses the inner circulation of a companion’s body to raise the Qi and then direct it outward into one’s own body. This requires a ritual chime as well, so that the four elements may become one. As for the sacred partner of whom people speak, such a person is as exalted as an emperor, possesses wealth enough for all under Heaven, and has virtue comparable to the “Four Consorts” and achievements comparable to those of Yi Yin and the Duke of Zhou. Without a bond from a former life, such a person is hard to encounter. The realized pity practitioners, and so passed down the wondrous method of “deep plowing and placing the seed, using illusion to hook the Mysterious.” This is not done out of a deliberate pursuit of the extraordinary; it is because such a sacred partner depends entirely on a bond ordained by Heaven. Otherwise, attaining the Dao is difficult. Among the ancient sages, how many ever encountered such a chance?

Some of what Master Wuyuan disclosed was incomplete; other parts, though complete, were not explained in sufficient detail. I have therefore added these clarifications here.

Someone asked, “A practitioner should first learn to give up attachment to wealth. Yet it is said both that ‘worldly money is needed’ and that ‘the immortals will not draw near to the miserly.’ In the end, does cultivation require money or not?”

The reply was: “It requires money, and one must also know how to do without it. Money is something people value. It can win others’ goodwill and help one seek the true treasures of Heaven; matters in both Heaven and the human world may be accomplished through it. If someone has no money but still wants to obtain the true treasures, that is to force the matter. Heaven will not comply, and others will not cooperate. If a person begrudges even this small act of giving, how could the immortals come? That is why worldly money must be used.

“Yet money can also corrupt a person’s De and damage their life. Once someone cannot bear to part with money, it clouds their judgment, and they end up under its control. One must therefore put De before money, taking De as the root and money as a secondary concern. That is why worldly money cannot be relied upon. There are also different kinds of worldly money, and they must not be lumped together.”

Another person asked, “When you say that money can win people’s hearts and buy Heaven’s true treasures, are you referring to practices such as dual cultivation between men and women or alchemical furnace work?”

The reply was: “The ‘person from the direction of Kun’ does not mean an ordinary woman, and ‘treasure’ means a treasure from Heaven, not earthly metals or stones. The ‘person from the direction of Kun’ refers to an immortal, one who does not die—in other words, an immortal drawn near by worldly money. ‘Jade from Heaven’ refers to something that contains a treasure within it: the true treasure sought in this world. To take these words as referring to women and metals or stones is to slander the sacred Dao and treat it as something shallow and worldly.”

Question: Is the “worldly wealth” said to be needed in cultivation the same as “wealth of the Dao”? Answer: Wealth is wealth, and the Dao is the Dao; they are two different things. What is being discussed here is how the Dao and wealth work together.

“Dao” refers to methods and practices for cultivation and training; “wealth” refers to offerings made with a sincere heart in pursuit of the Dao. With the Dao but no wealth, cultivation can easily come to nothing, and it is difficult to reveal the true treasure of “the other family.” With wealth but no Dao, the timing and intensity of cultivation can go awry, and one cannot properly use the vessels of “my family.” Neither the Dao nor wealth can be dispensed with, which is why they are called “wealth of the Dao”: the practice of the Dao includes the way of using wealth, and wealth must be used in accordance with the Dao. The “wealth” meant here is not the gold, silver, or money of the world.

Question: If “wealth” here does not mean gold or silver, why does the Baopuzi say that after twenty years of hearing the Great Dao, one cannot achieve results in cultivation without savings at home? Shangyangzi says, “The poor worry that they have no wealth; those who have wealth worry that they have no companion in the Dao.” Zhang Sanfeng says, “Golden flowers bloom in profusion; without money, cultivation is hard.” What do these sayings mean? Answer: Their essential secret can be taught only by a master; it cannot be guessed at from nothing.

There are broadly two paths to cultivating the Real. One is “High Virtue,” in which the Dao preserves the body; the other is “Low Virtue,” in which methods prolong life. Those of High Virtue have not lost their innate pure Yang. They can preserve the body through the Dao without using wealth, and can cultivate through Wuwei (non-action), reaching the realization of their nature. Nature and life are two interrelated aspects of Daoist cultivation. Once one’s nature is understood, life too reaches completion.

Those of Low Virtue, by contrast, have already lost their innate state. Like the poor who have no wealth, they must draw on the wealth of “the other family” and use methods to prolong life. Only through active, forceful cultivation can they preserve life. Once life has been secured, they can go on to cultivate their nature.

Ge Hong, known as Master Baopu, spent twenty years hearing about Daoist arts. What he heard concerned preserving the body and extending life through these arts. Some say that one cannot practice without savings. Here, “savings” means the resources needed for cultivation, the provisions required to pursue the Dao. Without them, one cannot put the arts to use to prolong life and preserve health. It does not mean that one cannot practice without gold or silver. If cultivation truly required gold and silver, why would Master Baopu, born into a wealthy family of officials, have said that he had no resources?

Consider Ma Danyang, who possessed wealth equal to half a prefecture. Why did he leave his family and live in humble quarters? Why did Liu Haichan resign as chancellor and wander the rivers and lakes? Why did the top scholar Luo give up wealth and status, choosing instead a poor and unassuming life? Many sages of antiquity were like this. Would they really abandon money already in their hands in order to seek something hard to obtain? We can see from this that the “wealth” they spoke of had another meaning; it was not worldly property.

Evidence from their lives makes clear what they meant by “wealth.” If you possessed riches equal to half a prefecture and attained the rank of minister or chancellor, what could you not obtain? What difficulty would emperors like Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han have had in building five thousand and forty-eight ding cauldrons, or ninety-nine million ding cauldrons? Doesn’t the Rhapsody on the Epang Palace say that the palace’s beauties, adorned in white powder and dark brows, went thirty-six years without a chance to see the emperor? From this, the principle can be understood.

To cultivate this Dao, if the mysterious pass—the crucial point in Neidan cultivation where the energies of body and mind converge—has not opened, the true primal source, the original Qi of life, cannot be restored. The foundation then grows ever more depleted, and the flowing pearl, a term for the gathering of Jing and Qi during cultivation, scatters in all directions. In that state, nothing can be accomplished. Know that this aperture of the mysterious pass encompasses the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, and within it are the Four Great Elements that constitute body, mind, and world. It has no distinction between inner and outer, and no fixed location. It is simply one Qi, so how could it truly be open or closed? What is called obstruction is only the covering and blockage caused by external things.

If you can settle body and mind in the time before Heaven and Earth were differentiated, you will understand that Heaven, Earth, humanity, and I are originally one. The true primal source within has neither gain nor loss. Everything that seems lost is like treasured goods moved from an inner storehouse to an outer one. I need only settle my inner storehouse, and I can retrieve each thing in turn, as though it had merely been placed in temporary keeping outside.

“Higher De” and “lower De” both refer to the circumstances of one’s cultivation at a given time. If people can understand this and realize it for themselves, then by settling the mind and remaining constantly committed to cultivation that returns to the root and restores the true, they can make steady progress. In cultivation, one proceeds through refining Jing into Qi, refining Qi into Shen, refining Shen until it returns to emptiness, and refining emptiness until it unites with the Dao, ultimately attaining the highest Dao and returning to nature. In this way, the foundation of inner cultivation becomes a supreme treasury of the teachings—the treasure of Dao cultivation. The three ages (past, present, and future) and the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) all return to a single millet pearl, symbolizing the gathering of Jing, Qi, and Shen and the return to one’s original nature through Neidan. Given this, how could “higher De” and “lower De” still be distinguished? How could there still be a difference between perfecting one’s nature and perfecting one’s life? This is the secret of return transmitted by the Supreme One’s Mind School, an inner lineage of Daoist teachings. Master Wuyuan did not disclose it, so I set it out and add it here.

As it turns out, the “world” Master Wuyuan speaks of is the person’s own self, and the “wealth” he speaks of is what the person possesses—that is, Jing, Qi, and Shen. The “good” he speaks of refers to the precelestial, while the “ordinary” refers to the postcelestial. The precelestial can bring one to the Dao, while the postcelestial obstructs cultivation; the two must therefore be distinguished. The master disclosed something of this, but did not explain it fully, perhaps because he feared the mysterious retribution that comes from revealing Heaven’s secrets.

I believe, however, that the Dao has grown obscure above all because the sages of earlier generations did not consider matters fully. People often say that Patriarch Ziyang, Zhang Boduan, transmitted the Dao three times to unsuitable recipients and consequently suffered Heaven’s punishment three times. In my view, the reason he was punished was that he transmitted the Dao in obscure language. As a result, even those given to sexual misconduct could cite his words in their own defense, and his writings were liable to mislead later readers. Patriarch Cuixu, Chen Nan, saw this and criticized the approach as insufficiently considered. The verse of praise by Master Qiong Guan, Zhang Zuxiang, also contains a veiled criticism, likely directed at this obscure manner of transmission.

Heaven and Earth rejoice when people put the Great Dao into practice. To write books for posterity and guide those with the right affinities through one’s writing is like carrying out a mission bestowed by Heaven. Cuixu once said, “I intend to deliver all the people of the world.” He also said, “If that is so, can Heaven still be called Heaven? Since this is the case, what is there to fear in revealing and transmitting the mysteries of the Great Dao?” That is why I have set out and supplemented this account here.

Someone asked, “If what one relies on is not worldly wealth, then the claim that outside support is needed seems absurd. Why, when Xinglin passed the Daoist teachings on to Daoguang, did he tell him, ‘Go at once to a large city with convenient transport and a dense population, and rely on wealthy and powerful people as you cultivate the Dao’?”

The reply was, “Worldly possessions can be genuine or false. Surely outside support, too, has an inner and an outer aspect. Inner support is the ‘Golden Lord’—a symbolic name for the quality of Metal in Neidan cultivation—which helps bring the Dharma Body, the spiritual body attained through cultivation of the Dao, to completion. Outer support is worldly assistance, which preserves the temporary physical body. Until the physical body has transcended the mundane world, it remains vulnerable to calamity. Outer support means those who protect my life and help me attain the Dao.

“‘A great city with busy thoroughfares’ means cultivating the Dao within secular society. Since this path is likely to invite criticism, living in a large city and blending into the ordinary world, while keeping a low profile, allows others not to recognize you and lets you cultivate in secret. Huineng once lived among hunters in Sihui. Daoguang’s return to secular life to accomplish the great work means the same thing.”

A related commentary says: “The fact that Patriarch Xue lived in a large city and relied on wealthy and influential people was arranged by Patriarch Shi. Patriarch Shi also said, ‘This arrangement was made because the Taishang Xinchuan had already been secretly transmitted to him. A great city is a storehouse of materials for cultivating the Great Elixir; the resources accumulated in wealthy and influential households are more refined and easier to access. The patriarch lays the foundation and opens the Mysterious Pass, the crucial inner aperture in cultivation, among them, continually welcoming opportunities day and night. Not only will the Dharma Body grow ever more secure; Heaven’s bestowed treasures will surely arrive of their own accord.

“‘Changing one’s identity for a time and blending into secular society is merely a temporary expedient. In the end, putting on Daoist robes and changing one’s attire was not because Daoism was fashionable at the time. Since he inwardly devoted himself to cultivating the Dao, he would naturally wear Daoist robes, just as the saying goes: “Put into practice the words of Yao and wear the garments of Yao.” To say this was done to avoid criticism is still a worldly person’s way of thinking, and seems not to have been the patriarch’s intention. It is right to say that his conduct resembled that of the Sixth Patriarch Huineng, though their specific circumstances do not seem to have been entirely the same.’”

The Sixth Patriarch, Huineng of Chan Buddhism, had already reached the state of “abiding nowhere and belonging nowhere.” He did not necessarily have to conceal himself among the crowds. Moreover, since his fellow practitioners were jealous of him at the time, living alongside hunters was enough to shield him. It is indeed true that he and the Sixth Patriarch followed the same path, though their particular circumstances seem not to have been entirely alike.

The Sixth Patriarch had already reached the state of “abiding nowhere and belonging nowhere,” and did not necessarily have to conceal himself among the crowds. Because his fellow practitioners were jealous of him, he lived alongside hunters, which both served as a cover and protected the Dharma he transmitted. Teaching the Dharma at the third watch of the night was transmission without concealment; living alongside hunters was enough to safeguard the Dao and its teachings. Here, “Dharma” refers to the Dharma-body, while “illusion” refers to the body formed through transformation. Using a temporary semblance to seek what is profound and mysterious is also important. It was for these two reasons that he lived in seclusion as he did.

Patriarch Xue, Xue Daoguang, lived in seclusion among the crowds simply to await the arrival of someone of exceptional talent and insight. He had no other need to do so. My teacher, the True Immortal of Chicken Foot Mountain, once said this, so I add it here for others to consider alongside the matter.

Someone asked, “Cultivating the Dao is an upright and honorable undertaking. Why does it so often invite slander?” The reply was: “The Dao of cultivation differs from the ways of the world. The world prizes fame, profit, and affection, while those who cultivate the Dao regard these lightly. The world takes cleverness and quick wit as real abilities, while those who cultivate the Dao consider them illusory. Those who seek wealth often find it hard to uphold benevolence and righteousness; those who uphold benevolence and righteousness often find it hard to become wealthy. The two pull in opposite directions. Thus, the path of the immortals is not one that worldly people readily choose. They may regard cultivators as foolish, or else think their conduct deviant. Great practitioners appear accommodating and easygoing, while inwardly holding fast to the right path; they move among the world and keep their brilliance in check for precisely this reason.”

Someone asked, “People who cultivate the Dao originally seek to distance themselves from worldly life and leave the mundane world behind, stilling every attachment. Now they are supposed to mingle with the world and blend in with it. Can they avoid being tainted by worldly life?”

The answer was: “Emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action) come after attaining the Elixir. If one practices Wuwei single-mindedly before attaining the Elixir, how can one transform the workings of creation and end birth and death? Mingling with the world and blending in with it is precisely how one transforms the workings of creation and ends birth and death. Though one lives amid worldly life, one is in truth free of it; though one dwells in the mundane world, one has in truth already left it behind. Once the Great Elixir has condensed, there is no need to pursue emptiness and stillness deliberately: they will arise naturally. Only then can one sever worldly ties and leave the mundane world, cease responding to worldly affairs, and practice nine years of wall-gazing cultivation in pursuit of transcendence.”

The commentator, who had carefully examined the matter, said: “In my view, the final sentence of this answer shows that the Master had not yet fully grasped the ‘Supreme One’s Mind School,’ a lineage of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation. Otherwise, if he had explained fully in his earlier answer why one must shine with the world and mingle with the mundane, people would have found an entry into the mysteries of cultivating the Real. Those in the world who study the Dao would no longer need to keep relying on old methods or insist on wall-gazing cultivation. Would that not be a vast ship of prajna—wisdom that leads to understanding?

“But why did the Master fail to grasp and explain it fully? Though he left behind the great method of ‘deep plowing and setting the seed,’ practitioners who lack strength or the necessary conditions cannot put it into practice. In the case of Patriarch Xue, for example, his original Qi had already dispersed and his true nature had been lost. He could only withdraw for a time to a thriving city, open the Mysterious Aperture—the inner gateway spoken of in cultivation—release its light, guide the scattered original Qi back to unity, and gather it again for cultivation in the Dantian (energy center). After that, he relied on a wealthy and capable household, devoutly carried out ‘reaching the highest Heaven’s heavenly treasure,’ formed the ‘sacred infant,’ the holy embryo spoken of in Neidan cultivation, and completed this great undertaking.

“At this stage, solitary cultivation is no longer lonely, and dual cultivation is more than a formal practice. As for the subsequent work of warming and nourishing, suckling, transformation, and pulverization, what is there to worry about? These are terms in Neidan cultivation for the stages of nurturing, maturation, and transcendence. If this secret were not transmitted, the Great Dao could not be made clear. Even after the embryo has formed and one has emerged from it, one must still follow the subsequent stages of cultivation and complete the work of warming and nourishing, suckling, transformation, and pulverization.”

If this formula is not passed on, the method for attaining the Great Dao will be hard to understand. Even if someone forms an embryo and brings it to transformation, without the practice of facing the wall for nine years, it will be difficult to refine it completely, transcend, and return to emptiness. The Elixir that has been formed still contains what is false. The problem lies in rushing to seek quick results without truly grasping the principle of “emptiness within emptiness.” The True Words on Singing the Dao says that this is like leaving the necessary hard work for the infant to complete: instead of taking the broad, proper road, one insists on cultivating along a narrow, perilous path, difficult even for birds and beasts to travel. Even if the work is ultimately completed, one remains a mortal. Spending nine more years raising and teaching the infant yields less than cultivating a “sagely infant” from the beginning.

The Great Elixir method of the Supreme Heart School, a Daoist way that takes cultivation of the heart-mind as its foundation, requires refinement and purification at every step. This refinement means cultivating nature and life step by step until they return to their natural state. In its effects, subtle and wondrous realms are brought together and integrated, and an Elixir bead is refined, roughly the size of a millet grain. This was how the ancient sages practiced. It is like a field of one mu yielding about one shi of rice, enough to fill ten carrying baskets. Once the husks and chaff are removed, the rice left amounts to only about one shi. A practitioner must understand: if the grain has not been sifted carefully enough, how can the rice in the field be eaten as it is? The principle is just the same.

For this reason, the ancient sages who cultivated this Dao always began by refining the heart-mind. Only then could they return step by step to the original source and reach a state in which nothing more could be emptied within emptiness, and nothing more could be stilled within stillness. Only in this state does primordial Qi appear. When cultivation of emptiness and stillness has become natural, the Mysterious Pass—the crucial opening through which changes in body and mind unfold during Neidan cultivation—opens. Once it opens, cultivation proceeds with ease in every direction, and the Heavenly Treasure, an inner treasure in Daoist teaching, is gained. An Elixir formed in this way is complete: when gathered, it can take shape; when dispersed, it can transform into Qi. There is therefore no need to deliberately add another nine years of facing the wall.

Q: Does the practice called “nine years facing the wall” actually mean sitting in meditation continuously for nine years?

A: No. “Nine years” refers to the “Nine Returns”—the nine cycles of return and refinement in Daoist Neidan cultivation. “Facing the wall” does not mean sitting motionless the whole time, either. It means concentrating without distraction and keeping Shen (spirit) inward, until not a trace of stray thought or dust remains in the mind. It is as if a towering wall stands before you and you can see nothing, reaching a state in which all methods return to emptiness. This is a step in quietly nurturing the infant and allowing fetal breathing to develop. It is not the practice of sitting still to suppress thoughts and preserve Shen while facing a wall, as taught by heterodox schools, with the nine years then treated as nine transformations.

The Canzheng shuo says this practice comes after “returning, forming, completing, and nurturing.” It may seem steady, but it is extremely strenuous and very hard to sustain without interruption. How many people in antiquity could manage it? It is better to cultivate according to the Taishang Xinzong, a Daoist method of inner cultivation: penetrate the principles of nature and life, and especially let clear understanding of the work on nature illuminate and guide the work on life. This is the most subtle approach. The key to the oral formula is “thoroughly refine the One and gather the One; accumulate little by little until it becomes much”: continually gather and build up even the smallest gains from cultivation. This accords with what the alchemical texts say: “one grain, then another.”

My late teacher, Master Taixu, used money as an analogy. Imagine plowing deeply and sowing seed, then harvesting, gathering, and threshing it, and exchanging the chaff for silver. Even that is not yet the subtle method. One must then exchange silver for gold, gold for pearls, and store the treasures in an inner treasury. By continually exchanging for things of greater purity, the outer treasury is emptied, and there is no fear of pirates plundering it. This is the subtle art of exchanging the coarse for the refined, and the key to returning from the tangible to the intangible, from the false to the true. To do this each day and persist month after month, year after year, is to follow the principle of accumulation day by day and month by month.

Sadly, few understand how to cultivate in this way. They accumulate without knowing how to transform what they have gathered, so the refined and the coarse pile up together, difficult to sort out even when stored away. There is the threat of “pirates” from outside, while things kept too long within decay. Money turns into qingfu—a legendary insect said to return to its owner, and by extension a name for money—while silver turns into sparrows and clams, images of wealth spoiled and corrupted. All this comes from failing to understand the subtlety of returning to innate Jing and Qi.

The realized people of antiquity returned to emptiness at every step of cultivation, ultimately reaching a state of natural spontaneity. This is like a skilled merchant keeping precious treasures well hidden. When cultivation reaches the point where one can move, stand, sit, and lie down with ease and freedom, it is as easy as possessing a fortune worth a million.

Ancient practitioners of the highest attainment advanced step by step toward “returning to emptiness”—returning to the original reality of stillness and emptiness—and reached a state of pure naturalness. This is like a skilled merchant who keeps his wealth hidden and does not show off his strength. Their every advance and retreat could follow their own wishes with ease. Even with a fortune of a million, they could appear to hold nothing at all. Thus they could be wealthy beyond measure and yet ride a crane to Yangzhou. If they wished to leave their physical form, they could do so at once; if they wished to transform, they could transform at once. They had already reached the state of “smashing emptiness”—why, then, would they still need to face a wall for nine years?

Question: “Is the ‘infant’ mentioned here the same as the infant in ‘infant and maiden’?”

Answer: “The two are different. In ‘infant and maiden,’ the infant is the Yang Qi within the Kan trigram (which represents water and Yin containing Yang)—that is, the pre-heavenly Qi concealed within the post-heavenly. The infant in the ‘sacred embryo,’ by contrast, is an image formed when pre-heavenly Qi comes from nonbeing and combines with true Mercury (a term in cultivation methods symbolizing true intent or spirit-Qi). This is what is called the Yang spirit.”

Question: “What is the difference in function between the Yang spirit and the Yin spirit? Could you explain?”

Answer: “The Yin spirit is the post-heavenly cognitive spirit—the spirit that discriminates and deliberates—and is what the Scripture on the Hidden Talisman calls ‘spirit that is spirit.’ The Yang spirit is the original pre-heavenly spirit, and is what the Scripture on the Hidden Talisman calls ‘spirit that is not spirit.’ The Yin spirit follows the course of birth and death: it exists while one is alive and disperses after death. It is the source that plunges people into endless cycles of rebirth. The Yang spirit, by contrast, manifests spiritual wonders without deliberate contrivance. It reverses the transformations of nature and takes form by coalescing out of emptiness. Unbound by birth and death, it stands beyond them and alone. It is the true foundation for becoming an immortal or a Buddha.”

Great practitioners cultivate their innate nature, transform acquired habits, and remove the roots of karma accumulated through the cycles of rebirth across countless kalpas. This allows their indestructible innate nature to emerge, so that they endure as long as Heaven and Earth and shine in competition with the sun and moon. Those of the middle and lower vehicles, which distinguish levels or methods of practice, do not understand what is innate. They work only on themselves, quietly holding to the discriminating consciousness. A little self-satisfied cleverness is enough for them to believe they have attained the Dao. How could they know that once the four elements of the physical body—earth, water, fire, and wind—dissolve back into emptiness, the Yin spirit, sustained by acquired consciousness and karma, has no support and must seek another body in which to dwell? This is what is meant by: “Since beginningless kalpas, the root of birth, death, and rebirth has been there, yet fools take it to be their original true mind and believe they have attained the Dao.”

The commentator speaks with care: Buddhism does not regard the discriminating consciousness as the mind-spirit. Later generations of Chan practitioners failed to understand Buddhism’s original intent and took lucid, alert consciousness to be the mind, and cognitive awareness to be the true nature. How could they have grasped Bodhidharma’s teaching that “mind itself is Buddha”?

The True Words of the Way’s Song focuses on refining the mind because the mind is the Dao. But the discriminating consciousness has taken possession of the mind, so one must practice diligently until that consciousness comes to rest; only then can the Dao-mind emerge. The mind of discrimination is the seed of rebirth, while the Dao-mind is the indestructible nature. Do the Mahayana scriptures—the Diamond Sutra, the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment, the Avatamsaka Sutra, and the Śūraṅgama Sutra—ever regard the discriminating consciousness as the true nature?

If the practice of refining the mind loses its proper aim, it becomes the path followed by later Buddhist practitioners. They do not truly refine the mind; instead, they follow the movements of consciousness and cling to consciousness, thereby falling into illusion and repeating the fault described in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra: “Pure emotion leads to downfall.” This method of practice is very different from the refining of the mind described in True Words on Singing the Dao. “Refining the mind” means quieting consciousness and letting its activity recede, so that the mind can manifest freely and vividly. If the mind is not occupied by consciousness, why should it have to wait until after refinement to become clear? Those who study the Dao must read with discernment, so that they can grasp the essential point wherever they encounter it.

The middle and lower vehicles discussed by Master Wuyuan belong to methods that follow consciousness and cling to it; they are not methods for dispelling consciousness and quieting its activity. Consider the meaning of the text carefully, and it is clear enough. Without discernment, readers may mistakenly conclude that the methods in True Words on Singing the Dao are not worth following.

For this reason, I have deliberately recorded these few words as a warning to later students. Following consciousness and clinging to it belong to the middle and lower vehicles; dispelling consciousness and quieting its activity constitute the highest of the supreme vehicles. Though both are practices for cultivating the mind, one follows the proper path and the other goes astray. Those who study the Dao should examine themselves.

Someone asked, “How do the original spirit and the conscious spirit come into being?” The answer was: “The original spirit forms from the gathering of the essence and Qi of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth. It comes into being at the beginning of Heaven and Earth, when chaos had not yet divided. It is neither a concrete form nor emptiness or nothingness; it has no fixed appearance. Those who study the Dao should contemplate this.”

At the beginning of Heaven and Earth, the Qi of Yin and Yang gathered together. When a person first receives life, the parents’ essences and blood unite, and in a dim, as yet unmanifest state, a breath of generative, warm, diffusive Qi enters the womb. At first it has no form; gradually, form and appearance emerge. The five sense organs, the hundred bones, the four limbs, and the five viscera then take shape naturally, though even the parents do not know how this happens. While still in the womb, the fetus already possesses innate spiritual Qi, with the original spirit hidden within it. This is the origin of the original spirit.

The conscious spirit (shishen), formed after birth through consciousness and mental activity, is the postnatal spirit, also known as the Yin Spirit. It endures through countless eons and continues through the cycles of reincarnation. At birth, the conscious spirit enters the body and joins with the original spirit (yuanshen), the innate spiritual nature of life, becoming one with it. This is the origin of the conscious spirit.

Someone asked, “Since the conscious spirit joins with the original spirit, cultivating the conscious spirit means cultivating the original spirit. Why, then, do people say that cultivating only the conscious spirit cultivates nothing more than one’s own Yin Spirit?”

The reply was, “There is a reason for this. When a person is born, the conscious spirit is originally joined with the original spirit. Around the age of sixteen, the pure Yang body—the state in which innate Qi is abundant and has not yet been dissipated—is broken, and the two separate: innate Qi disperses, postnatal Qi stirs, and the conscious spirit begins to take charge while the original spirit withdraws. In time, the conscious spirit alone holds sway, and the original spirit seems to have vanished. Though people can avoid death and continue their lives, what ultimately makes this possible? If one clings only to oneself in cultivation, one cultivates nothing more than the conscious spirit. Even if one can foresee the past and future, one cannot escape the decay of the physical body and the migration of consciousness; in the end, all returns to emptiness.”

Someone asked, “Since innate Qi has dispersed and the postnatal spirit has begun to take charge, where exactly is innate Qi? Surely knowing where it is would allow us to bring it back.”

The reply was, “Though innate Qi is obscured by postnatal Qi, it has not become entirely mixed with it. The ancient immortals said, ‘As long as even a trace of Yang Qi remains, a person will not die.’ Begin with this remnant that has not yet been extinguished: preserve what is present within the absence. What difficulty is there in returning to the root and restoring the origin?”

Someone asked, “The postcelestial realm—the level that has already become manifest—consists of things with form and appearance. Why, then, is it called ‘nonbeing’? The precelestial realm—the unmanifest source—has no form or appearance. Why, by contrast, is it called ‘being’?”

The reply was: “Although the postcelestial realm has form and appearance, it is regarded as a turbid, Yin substance: it has only illusory existence and no true root. That is why it is called ‘nonbeing.’ Although the precelestial realm has no form or appearance, it is pure Jing and Qi: it has a true root and no illusory elements. That is why it is called ‘being.’ In Golden Elixir practice, ‘taking Kan to fill Li’ means using the precelestial ‘being’ to fill the postcelestial ‘nonbeing.’ Kan and Li are names of two of the Bagua, and are also commonly used to represent the Yin-Yang relationship in cultivation.”

Someone else asked, “If the precelestial realm has no form or appearance, how can one take Kan to fill Li?”

The reply was: “Though Qi has no form, the principles it contains are truly present. The concern is simply that people may not understand this. If they can truly understand it, they can use substance to fill emptiness, and the formed to make up for the formless. Between Heaven and Earth, Yellow Sprouts—a term in Golden Elixir practice symbolizing precelestial vitality—grow and fill the cosmos. Golden Flowers—a term symbolizing the essence gained through cultivation—blossom; one then follows the method to pursue and gather them, gradually collecting and refining them. Once ‘the water is clear and gold is born’—a sign that the conditions for cultivation have ripened—one follows the proper moment and lets them return to their source. What difficulty is there in that?”

The commentator observes that scholars have not examined the matter closely from the perspective of “true and false,” but have instead continued asking about the meaning of “taking.” As a result, the original reply did not explain the distinction between true and false clearly enough.

“Taking Kan to replenish Li” originally expresses the true meaning of returning to the root and restoring the origin. If those who study the Dao do not seek out the underlying principle, but focus only on the word “taking,” they will once again look for clues solely in practical methods. Only by beginning with Kan and Li—the symbols of water and fire in Daoist Neidan—and investigating whether their underlying reality is being or nonbeing, thereby distinguishing the true from the false, can one find the gateway into the path and set out in the right direction.

When one neglects to investigate the root and studies only the methods of practice, one continues to seek answers in methods, and still fails to understand the original nature of the precelestial state. Without understanding that original nature, how can one examine the mysterious pass, the pivotal point in Neidan cultivation that concerns the foundations of nature and life? If the mysterious pass has not opened, one cannot carry out the great joining and union—the Neidan process in which Yin and Yang unite and coalesce. Where is the origin to which one must return? Where is the true to which one must be restored? There is indeed a proper time for the water to clear and the Metal to arise, but if the roots of truth and falsehood remain obscure, how can one recognize their original nature? The reason the alchemical methods of past and present are so hard to understand is that people abandon the root and pursue only the branches.

I know that the Daoist Canon contains the Scripture on the Precelestial Dao and De. The entire text elucidates the substance of the Dao, yet no one seems to know that it must be examined and contemplated with care. Its meaning is profound, but fortunately Master Li Xizhai wrote a commentary on it. I intend to follow his commentary and offer further explanations from the perspective of the substance of the Dao. Yet how many people truly understand and appreciate its meaning? I have privately reflected on it again and again; its sequence and connections have gradually become clear, and the true and the false have become distinguishable. I wish to make it a standard for discerning alchemical methods.

My learning is limited, my abilities insufficient, and I am already advanced in years. I have wished to remain in the world and seek out the immortals, but have had no further chance to meet them. While the true master Shen Taixu was alive, I regret that I did not obtain this book. I had questions but no one to ask, and difficulties no one to resolve. I was eager to write a commentary on it, explaining it through my own experience and inquiry, but I dare not claim that I have succeeded.

Question: The cultivation of the Elixir Way places importance on both timing and the application of effort. Why, then, is it said to be not difficult?

Answer: “Not difficult” refers to obtaining the medicinal substance in a single moment. What is truly difficult is grasping the subtle changes in timing. The Wuzhen Pian says: “Even if one recognizes cinnabar and black lead, without understanding the timing, that knowledge is useless. Elixir refinement depends above all on the work of cultivation; the slightest mistake will prevent the Elixir from forming.” If the timing is judged accurately and cultivation is carried out with care, the task is not difficult.

A commentary says: Changes in timing are extremely subtle, and when the moment arrives, mysterious signs appear. One who understands the principle of “central harmony” will make no mistake, however slight. Without understanding the key to taking the Dao of Heaven Before Heaven as one’s foundation, one may fail to recognize an opportunity when it comes. And without understanding the root of the Great Dao or knowing when the medicinal substance forms, even mastery of timing amounts to no more than the futile use of a method. The author was deeply concerned about this, and so took special care to discuss it.

Question: If the medicinal substance can be obtained in a single moment, does that mean timing and effort are of no use? Why, then, is timing said to be subtle?

Answer: “In a single moment” refers to the result of obtaining the medicinal substance; “timing” refers to the work of cultivation carried out in daily practice. Returning the Elixir—that is, bringing the inner Elixir to completion—is easiest; refining the self—that is, cultivating body and mind and removing selfish attachments and distracting thoughts—is most difficult. The ancient practitioners gathered years of effort into a month, a month into a day, and a day into a double-hour. Within that double-hour, they applied their subtle skill, gathered the medicine and returned it to the Elixir furnace, compressing the work of gestating the embryo for three hundred days into a brief instant. This in itself is the easiest part.

But if one is not diligent in refining the self in daily practice and does not carefully attend to timing, lead may arrive without mercury to receive it, or Water of Kan may come without Fire of Li to meet it. In other words, when the opportunity arrives, one is unprepared and lets it pass by; even if one obtains it, one will lose it again.

[Further Commentary] Our late teacher, Master Taixu, left this teaching: “Understand that refining the self is the work of cultivating the heart and nature, and no method for it is more complete than The True Words of the Singing Dao. This book can serve as a guide to the alchemical classics precisely because it explains the essentials of refining the self. Study it carefully, and combine that study with investigation and personal realization; from this, the Way of the Celestial Immortals can be understood.”

Someone asked, “How can we know when the medicine is about to arrive, so that we can wait for its appearance in advance?” The answer was: “If you do not know how it arrives, how could you wait for it? The Most High says: ‘In the midst of seeming and illusion, there is something real within; in the depths of darkness and stillness, there is Jing. This Jing is true and unfailing; within it are signs that can be verified.’ The ‘thing’ here is not an ordinary thing, but the medicine needed for cultivation. ‘Jing’ does not mean turbid essence, but true Jing. ‘True’ does not mean true in the ordinary sense, but natural truth. ‘Verification’ does not mean ordinary trust, but a sign that can be confirmed. When this sign appears, it is like a tiger’s roar summoning the wind, or a dragon’s call bringing clouds. At that moment, a successful practitioner sets the Dragon and Tiger in motion, brings them together, then gathers them in the Yellow Court’s earthen cauldron—a site in Neidan cultivation that symbolizes the coalescing of Jing and Qi—and forms them into an elixir. Those who understand this crucial secret feel it is within arm’s reach; those who have lost sight of it find it as distant as a thousand miles.”

[Further Commentary] The “seeming and illusion, darkness and obscurity” and the “wind rising and clouds gathering” described here are all wondrous signs that arise in the course of cultivation. If the Mysterious Pass—the crucial bodily and mental gateway in Neidan cultivation—has not opened, these signs will not appear. If the work of refining the self is insufficient, then even if the gateway opens, one will not perceive them. And unless one can settle body and mind in the state that precedes the acquired condition, one cannot know how to refine the self.

To settle body and mind before what is prior to the primordial, begin by observing the Six Purifications (fasting and cultivation). Once the Six Purifications are complete, devote yourself to fasting and purification. Through this cultivation of the fasting mind, practice will naturally deepen. At this stage, there is no distinction between movement and stillness, nor any fixed direction; one enters the true realm of natural mystery. The gateways seem to open, as though a bright gauze curtain veils the emptiness, leaving every place open. Stillness remains just as before, and the curtain dissolves along with it. What appears before the eyes is already within this realm, with no distinction between entering and leaving—so where could there still be an inside and an outside?

When practice reaches this point, all kinds of wondrous visions appear in succession, clear to the sight. I simply cling neither to “being” nor to “nonbeing,” but turn inward to examine myself; yet the inner is no different from the outer, and makes no distinctions. One need only gather the spirit in emptiness, stillness, and quietude. This is what is called the “mysterious function of function,” in which not the slightest error can arise. My former teacher, Master Taixu, once explained the principles of mystery in this way. His words aptly answer and supplement the discussion here, so I have recorded them.

Someone asked, “Is the Yellow Court Earth Crucible simply the Yellow Court acupoint at the body’s central palace?” The reply was: “It refers to the formless, imageless true Earth that takes shape when the Five Phases converge and the Four Images are harmonized. It cannot be equated with the tangible, bodily Yellow Court acupoint. In the Way of the Elixir, the Yellow Court lies neither in being nor in nonbeing, and is not confined to any fixed direction.

“When speaking of gathering the ingredients, it is called the ‘Yellow Dame’; when speaking of refining them, it is called the ‘Earth Crucible’; when speaking of forming the embryo, it is called the ‘Yellow Court.’ Here, ‘forming the embryo’ refers to the formation of the Elixir embryo in Neidan practice. The Yellow Dame harmonizes Yin-Yang; the Earth Crucible cooks and refines lead and mercury (Neidan terms for Yin-Yang essence and energy); the Yellow Court quietly nurtures the Valley Spirit (the inner, numinous spirit). If the Yellow Court acupoint in the postnatal body were taken to be the true Yellow Court, how could it harmonize Yin-Yang, refine lead and mercury, and nurture the Valley Spirit? Lu Ziye said, ‘True Earth has no fixed location; true intention has no form.’ Surely he was speaking of the principles behind the Yellow Court Earth Crucible?”

Someone asked, “Since Earth has no fixed direction and true intent has no specific form, does the sacred embryo also have no direction when it is being formed?”

The reply was, “Having ‘no position’ describes the stage of gathering the medicine. When it is time to form the sacred embryo, Yin and Yang have already joined, and Earth is present within them. At this point, the yellow center is open and permeable, its proper position is within the body, and everything blends into a single current of Qi. The original source of the Elixir—known in Neidan cultivation as the fundamental source—also takes on an image.”

The questioner asked again, “Does the sacred embryo being formed also have no direction?”

The reply was, “It has no direction.”