《修真辩难参证》Vol. 2

This passage begins with “gathering the medicine,” the stage of cultivation in which one gathers and draws in primordial Qi. At the stage of “forming the embryo,” when the gathered Qi is refined and condensed into Neidan (internal alchemy), Yin and Yang join, with Earth among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The phrase “the yellow center penetrates and harmonizes; it takes its proper place and occupies the body” means that Earth resides at the center and harmonizes Yin and Yang, bringing the whole body together as a single Qi. Although the Elixir’s source already has a form, it is not something to which one can cling as a concrete shape. It remains formless, distinguished only by movement and stillness.

Someone asked, “Earth is naturally still, yet now you say it can move. Is that not false?” The reply was, “This does not refer to earth in the ordinary sense, but to primordial true Earth. It has two aspects, movement and stillness: movement belongs to Yang and is called the ‘Outer Yellow Matron’; stillness belongs to Yin and is called the ‘Inner Yellow Matron.’ The Outer Yellow Matron brings the two sides together, while the Inner Yellow Matron conveys and guides at the crucial moment. Thus, although it has a function, it ultimately belongs to stillness.”

The moving aspect is used to gather and draw in primordial Qi; the still aspect is used to refine and transform it. Without movement, how could primordial Qi be summoned and gathered? Without stillness, how could it be condensed into an embryo? This is the distinction between inner and outer, and between movement and stillness.

Someone else asked, “If Earth’s function is divided into inner and outer aspects, are the functions of the Four Images also divided in this way?” The reply was, “When the Four Images join with Earth, they form the Five Phases. The outer Five Phases are used to gather and draw in primordial Qi, cultivating the foundation of life; the inner Five Phases transform and nourish postnatal Qi, cultivating one’s original nature. To cultivate both inner and outer is the Way of dual cultivation of nature and life.”

Someone else asked, “Nature belongs to the inner, and life to the outer. Does this mean there is no life within the human body?” The reply was, “Heaven brings forth the myriad things through Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. Qi forms the body, and principle is present at the same time. Qi is life; principle is nature. Qi cannot be separated from principle, nor principle from Qi. Nature cannot be separated from life, nor life from nature, so one cannot say that there is nature without life.”

Question: Since people have a “life” (ming), surely cultivating their own body and mind to make life whole should be enough. Why, then, must they seek “the other family”?

Answer: “Life” refers to the foundation present from before birth, while “nature” refers to the disposition of mind formed after birth. Once a person’s primordial Qi has dispersed, the foundation of life is diminished. If you cling only to cultivating yourself, what you cultivate is merely an insubstantial disposition of mind. If you cling only to cultivating your body, what you cultivate is something tangible but impure. Even if you can preserve the Qi you still have and keep it from dispersing, how can you gather up the Qi already lost and bring it back? That is why you must use what is called “the deathless method of the other family” to summon and gather the primordial Qi that has dispersed.

Question: Primordial Qi has no form. Once it is lost, doesn’t it cease to exist? How can it be summoned back?

Answer: This is where the secret lies that the patriarchs passed on orally and heart to heart. It is also the Daoist method transmitted only once across countless kalpas. Things return from the place where they were lost. Primordial Qi was lost through “the coming together of a single Yin” (the union of Yin and Yang); now it must be gathered back at the very place where Yin and Yang unite. This thing is therefore right before you. There is no need to seek it elsewhere; you can obtain it by following the natural tendency of things. The Book of Changes says, “If one loses the way but does not go far, one can return; through this, one cultivates the self.” This is what it means.

Yet the most important thing in gathering primordial Qi is finding the right person. Without meeting such a person, primordial Qi cannot return. Ziye said: “The medicine emerges from the Kun position in the southwest; in seeking the Kun position, how could you leave the human realm? The principle has already been plainly stated; you must remember it, for I fear that when you meet, you will not recognize it.” Without a true master’s personal transmission, how could you easily identify this “medicine” and this person?

Precelestial Qi is the Qi produced when true Yin and true Yang unite within the precelestial Taiji. In Heaven it is called “Qian Yuan”; on Earth, “Kun Yuan”; in human beings, “true Yuan,” also called “human Yuan.” The Qi of the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—is called “Yuan,” while the principle received from them is called “One.” “Yuan” is life; “One” is nature. Life is called “self,” and nature is called “other.” In truth, these are all originally one and the same thing, of the same kind and from the same source. Only because they are embodied in different forms have people made a forced distinction among such names as “Yuan,” “One,” “principle,” “Qi,” “nature,” “life,” “other,” “self,” “Yin,” “Yang,” “Dragon,” and “Tiger.” At root, there is only one principle.

Later, those who studied the Dao clung to labels and distinctions among outward forms, each insisting on their own view. Their minds and spirits became confused, and heterodox teachings spread as a result. Even the wise could hardly avoid being perplexed. The root of the problem was misunderstanding the idea that “at root, there is only one Dao.”

This misunderstanding is also connected with the clause “false transmission brings calamity” in the Heavenly Law. The perfected people of ancient times all upheld the ancient Dao, so when they wrote and taught, they often concealed its true meaning. As a result, those who promoted heterodox teachings took their words as evidence for their own claims.

My teacher, the Venerable Taixu, took pity on me and wrote down the essentials of the Lü tradition, then dictated this passage:

“By night, the Vinaya Master Xujing attended to Patriarch Qiu of Changchun at the Hall of the Alms Bowl. Patriarch Qiu explained to him: ‘What is lost through human affairs must be sought again through the human source.’ These words were transmitted orally by my own patriarch, the Imperial Lord Zhengyang. The word ‘human’ in the two clauses must not be understood in the same way: in the first, it refers to human affairs; in the second, it refers to the human source—the root of primordial Qi within the human body.

When primordial Qi is dissipated amid human affairs, it cannot be recovered through human affairs. Only by understanding how to seek the root source in Taiji, the origin before the myriad things divided, can what was lost be restored. Know that the so-called Three Origins of the world—the Celestial Origin, the Terrestrial Origin, and the Human Origin—all have Taiji as their root. In Heaven it is called the Celestial Origin, on Earth the Terrestrial Origin, and in the human being the Human Origin. Once the Human Origin is lost, how can it be restored without seeking its root? Thus it is said: ‘What is lost through human affairs must be sought again through the human source.’

There is also a method of using the apparent to reveal the real and probing what is hidden. The sages of old called it ‘planting the seed.’ One should settle one’s body and mind in the state before the primordial beginning. In this way, not only can the root source be restored, but other attainments will follow as well. For this, one need only wait in emptiness and stillness, gathering the mind and spirit through quietude. This too is the profound application of those two clauses.’

The Vinaya Master Xujing asked: ‘Then why is it also said that “in the Kun direction, there is no death”?’

Patriarch Qiu replied: ‘Primordial Qi dwells in Kun—the Kun position, which symbolizes the earth and its power to bear and bring forth life. It nourishes and generates the myriad things, and the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity all depend on it. That is why it is called the “Gate of Life.”’”

The questioner asked, “If that is so, why is there also the saying, ‘In the Kun direction, one does not die’?”

The Patriarch replied, “The Origin—the primordial, innate foundation of life—resides in Kun, one of the Eight Trigrams and also the southwest direction. It nourishes and generates the myriad things, and Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—all depend on it. That is why it is called the ‘Gate of Birth.’ This means that the Origin resides in Kun. Kun lies in the southwest and has the virtue of bearing, nourishing, and bringing the myriad things to completion. Kun is also called the ‘Human Gate,’ because humans are foremost among the myriad things.

“‘Undying’ means that while the myriad things are born and perish, the Origin has neither birth nor perishing, and Kun is made stable by relying on the Origin. Because the ancient sages understood that the Origin, the foundation of life, resides within Kun, they called it the ‘Direction of the Undying.’ And because the myriad things are born by receiving the Origin that resides in Kun—and humans are one among the myriad things—it is called ‘the undying person in the Kun direction.’ Here, ‘person’ does not mean an immortal or a Buddha; it means the ‘human Origin.’ It must not be mistaken for an ordinary person.

“If people can understand this and receive it with a mind of emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action), the innate Origin can be reestablished and restored. Once the Origin returns, it will naturally gather and coalesce. Why depend on a furnace and crucible? Besides, the furnace and crucible were originally metaphors used by the ancient sages. People of the world do not understand this, and so they have developed all kinds of mistaken and deluded interpretations.” These are the words recorded in The Hidden Secrets of the Lu School.

In my view, the Master’s reply shows that nothing is more important than finding someone who can truly transmit the teaching. The Master also said, “When Qi is lost through its union, by analogy, with a single Yin, it should still be gathered back at the place where that union with a single Yin occurs.” Later, some people twisted this statement and used it as evidence for the teachings of heretical schools. I therefore recount my teacher’s words to clarify what the Master’s reply left unexplained.

Moreover, does the loss of primordial Qi—the vital essence that forms the foundation of human life—occur only during sexual intercourse with women? Buddhist scriptures record cases of “emission through the hand,” the Compilation on Guarding Against Lust records cases of “preferring male lovers,” and medical books also record “nocturnal emission.” Some people, however, say, “One must seek restoration from the very place where the loss occurred.” They also say, “The original thing that was lost is still at its original place, so it is easy to get back.” But according to what I said earlier, neither the original place nor the original thing can possibly be found again. As my late master put it: “At birth, one comes from the Taiji; after death, one returns to the Taiji.” So if one wishes to restore what has been lost, one must seek it from the Taiji. This is the most proper and fitting explanation.

Yet in the gentleman’s reply, the phrase “Where it was lost, there one should seek it again” contains the character “where.” I suspect that later students of the Vinaya school, a Buddhist school devoted to the precepts, misquoted it when passing it on orally; the original character should have been “person.” The difference between these two characters is significant, and readers should examine it carefully. Since the gentleman titled his book Debates and Challenges, these two characters must be distinguished. Readers should investigate them with due care.

In the autumn of the Renzi year of the Qianlong reign (1732), I visited the immortal Huang Ming Shouzhong, who remained in the world, and asked him about the Supreme Way. He was then more than five hundred years old. Born in the Song dynasty, he had come to China at the beginning of the Yuan dynasty and was a man from Yuezhi, an ancient name for the region around India. In the twelfth year of the Shunzhi reign (1655), he had received the Three Great Precepts, important Daoist vows, from the eminent Master Wang of Kunyang. Master Wang said, “From where a person receives life and nature, there one should seek their restoration. Without receiving the mind-to-mind transmission—the essentials of cultivation passed directly from teacher to disciple—how can one return to the root and recover the original?”

However, a person’s nature and life have both precelestial and postcelestial aspects. The precelestial nature and life disperse back into Wuji (the Limitless), while the postcelestial nature and life disperse back into Heaven and Earth. Though vast, Heaven and Earth are a level that comes after Wuji. The formless nature and life within the human body come from Wuji; the postcelestial aspects, by contrast, are formed through one’s parents. These are the “Three Treasures” in their embodied form, usually understood as Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). Thus, after death, when these embodied things lose their support, they return to Heaven and Earth, as the saying goes: “The hun ascends to Heaven, and the po descends to Earth.”

The perfected ones of antiquity sought, through stillness and emptiness, what had dispersed from both the precelestial and postcelestial realms, so that it might return to Wuji. This is because the Qi of Wuji can contain both the precelestial and the postcelestial. “Seeking through stillness” means letting the physical form return to emptiness and stillness, and the Dharma body—the inner body and mind spoken of by practitioners—return to clear, tranquil stillness. One draws in without deliberately summoning, gathers without deliberately collecting, and coalesces without deliberate effort, simply following what is natural. For the Qi of nature can bring the “Three Powers”—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—into harmony.

The Qi of the Three Powers is originally one. It has no coming or going, existence or nonexistence, motion or stillness, birth or death, and cannot be accurately described by any name. We can only provisionally call it Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). People say, “Wuji gives birth to Taiji,” but in truth, within Taiji, both the bounded and the unbounded become manifest. That is why it is called Taiji. This account suggests a relationship between Wuji and Taiji like that between grandparent and grandchild. Within it lies the wondrous efficacy of bringing forth through restraint; this is precisely the returning function of the Golden Elixir in Neidan (internal alchemy).

What I heard from my former preceptor was the same. There are also deeper methods of cultivation, such as “deep plowing and setting the seed” and “using the illusory to inquire into the mysterious,” which involve extensive application and exertion. These teachings cannot be transmitted orally without solemn vows akin to oaths made before mountains and seas. Yet they, too, do not depart from the method of “seeking through stillness.” The teachings on mystery given by immortals who remain in the world and by the preceptors of the Vinaya school who observe the precepts are all of this kind. Still, the supreme Dao of the Golden Elixir has been preserved and followed only by our Vinaya school. Other schools outside the Vinaya have many texts, and there may be some with a heart-to-heart transmission like that of the two preceptors, Shen and Huang. It is not that such teachings have never been heard of; perhaps they, too, are simply not dared to be disclosed.

Someone asked, “One’s nature and life are one’s own, and cultivation also depends on oneself; no one else can take one’s place. When people now say ‘do not leave the person,’ does that mean we should seek help from someone else?”

The reply was, “The ‘person’ here is not an outsider. It is the deathless person—that is, the True Person we originally possess. The immortals of old said, ‘If you wish to live forever and escape death, you must find the deathless person.’ This deathless person is called the Metal Lord, a term in Daoist Neidan that symbolizes precelestial Qi. The Metal Lord originally belonged to me, but wandered elsewhere and, once lost, did not return. Of what I originally possessed, only pure Yin Qi remains. If I rely only on the self I have now to cultivate, how can I succeed? So I must call back the Metal Lord and unite him with the Wood Mother, the counterpart to the Metal Lord in Daoist Neidan, who symbolizes another precelestial element. Only then can the medicine form and the Golden Elixir coalesce.”

The commentator said, “Mr. Wuyuan’s reply has already made this very clear. Yet unless we repeatedly reflect on the preceding words, this principle remains hard to grasp. ‘The deathless person,’ ‘the True Person we originally possess,’ and ‘the Metal Lord was originally something in my own household, but went into another household; I must call him back before I can succeed’—all of these are plainly stated. They mean that precelestial Qi was lost and returned to the formless, undifferentiated source known in Daoism as Wuji, so it must be called back. If we insist on taking ‘another’ and ‘myself’ to mean an external person and the physical body, many doubts will arise.”

The commentator added, “The reply’s phrase ‘unite him with my Wood Mother’ is not quite detailed enough. According to the oral instructions of Master Huang, when the precelestial elements in the human body are lost, it is not only the Metal Lord who departs; the Wood Mother must also have returned. The mind and spirit residing in the body are merely the Metal Lord’s maidservants and concubines. The method of cultivation is to call back the Metal Lord directly, then welcome back the Wood Mother, thereby renewing one’s own foundation. This is what accords with the deeper meaning of the teaching.”

When deluded thoughts stir, the Original Spirit (the innate spirit) scatters, Qi dissipates with it, and Jing and Qi inevitably leak away. The scattering of Qi, flight of the spirit, and loss of Jing always occur together. As a result, the innate foundations of nature and life no longer remain within the body. Only the acquired state of nature and life is left there; this is therefore called “pure Yin.”

One must therefore summon back the “Metal Lord” (a term symbolizing the Metal phase and Yang force) and welcome home the “Wood Mother” (a term symbolizing the Wood phase and Yin force). Only when Metal and Wood unite is the Way of cultivation, which brings forth life without end, complete. If the Wood Mother does not return to her place, calamity will arise like a raging fire, and the Metal Lord will find it difficult to dwell in peace. The passage of essential instructions left by the Master seems incomplete, so I have added this explanation.

Someone asked, “How can the Metal Lord be summoned back?” The reply was, “It is easy to summon him back; the only difficulty is that people may not recognize him. If they truly recognize him, he will return as soon as he is called, just as a voice sent into an empty valley naturally returns as an echo. The Metal Lord left because I had distanced myself from him. Now that I know he is the root that saves life, I draw near to him and cherish him, and he will return at once, without any effort.”

The commentator says: Understand that the Metal Lord left because corrupt ministers held power and a seductive concubine (symbolizing desires that disturb the mind) stirred up turmoil. The Wood Mother went away, and the Metal Lord was consequently left in a position of humiliation. The key to cultivation lies in casting out the corrupt ministers and welcoming back the Wood Mother, thereby restoring clarity to the inner order. After that, commercial affairs (symbolizing the force of the Metal phase) can return to their proper place, and the Metal Lord will come of his own accord. “Without any effort” refers to the Way of dual cultivation of nature and life (cultivating the mind and the foundations of life together).

When we examine the methods of cultivation, they amount to gathering the mind and quieting the breath, entering a state of stillness and emptiness, and persevering until the practice matures of its own accord. Then every part of the body becomes clear and tranquil. The Metal Lord (a term in alchemy often used for the nature of metal or Yang Qi) arrives naturally, and the Wood Mother (a term in alchemy often used for the nature of wood or Yin Qi) returns to its proper place. If even a trace of deliberate awareness or attachment is introduced, problems may follow.

The master’s reply did not address this point. Perhaps he omitted the crucial step of first welcoming and gathering in the Wood Mother, and thus leaned toward deliberate awareness. His answer therefore seems not yet to accord fully with the principle that the Great Way of the Golden Elixir follows what is natural. I offer these remarks with care, for people of clear understanding to consider.

Someone asked, “Once the Metal Lord has been summoned back, can one then receive and preserve the Mandate of life?” The reply was, “Not yet. The arrival of the Metal Lord means that the true seed has been obtained. Only then does the real work begin: seize the moment and cultivate it. Once the Yellow Sprout (a Neidan term for the subtle Qi generated through cultivation) begins to grow, nurture it gently until it matures, then swallow it. Only then can you preserve it.”

[For comparison] I once heard the immortal who dwells in the world, Zhang Pengtou, speak of this. Zhang was using an assumed surname; he was originally the son of Qu Shisi, a loyal minister of the Ming dynasty. He came to Jingai during the Jiaqing era, though he looked about thirty years old. I had long heard of his reputation, so I asked him which school within the Yin-Yang traditions was truly orthodox. The immortal said, “Your teacher, Elder Taixu, must already have explained this to you. Why ask me?” I knelt and replied, “Yes. My teacher said that what is obtained may come from the open sky, from great cities, from alchemical chambers, from ritual altars, or from the seat of the elixir, but none of these is a heterodox path.”

The Immortal said, “One who attains the Great Dao from the expanse of space takes that expanse as the foundation of cultivation and Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—the Three Powers—as the ingredients. This is the highest method of cultivation. One who attains it through methods practiced in great cities takes the six directions—above, below, and the four cardinal directions—as the Dharma Body, and the lively Jing and Qi transformed from the energies of the Dragon and Tiger as the ingredients.

“One who cultivates in a pill chamber, a quiet room for alchemical practice, takes the Dharma Body as the furnace foundation, the basis on which cultivation rests. The Dragon and Tiger remain the seeds and intermediaries: they respond to and unite with what arises from the Yin-Yang conjunction of Taiji, then gather it through intention into the Yellow Court, an area within the body used in cultivation, as the foundation for forming the elixir.

“One who cultivates in a ritual sanctuary, a place set up for Daoist practice, takes the pill chamber as the furnace foundation and the Dharma Body as the Mysterious Aperture, the crucial point in internal cultivation. Following the prescribed methods, one employs the Tiger and Dragon to gather the spirit in the pill chamber, then draws it into the Mysterious Aperture, where the True One, pure and undivided Qi, comes forth. Some preserve this True One and combine it with Original Qi, using the result as a seed for cultivation. Others use the Tiger and Dragon as intermediaries, allowing the Yin-Yang Qi of Taiji to gather within them. The spirit is concentrated in the pill chamber, and the Tiger and Dragon are thereby transformed and brought forth. Then one joins the preserved ‘One,’ born of the union of Taiji, with oneself, returning to the body the True One produced by the Tiger and Dragon: assign the ‘One’ to the Dragon and Original Qi to the Tiger. Finally, gather everything in stillness and let each return to its proper place; cultivation can then cease. These are all superior methods.

“There are also intermediate and lower methods, but your teacher did not tell you about them. Simply follow what I have instructed: make the heart empty and still, quiet the spirit, and forget the breath. If you can do this, what you gain will surely be abundant. If you wish to pursue this Way, first accumulate De through virtuous conduct. The deeper your De, the greater your blessings. Heaven has revealed this subtle Great Dao in order to transform one person and save the people. If your aim is merely long life, Heaven may not take notice of you or grant you its protection. You should assess your own capacity before you cultivate.”

I bowed and received his teaching. That day, five-colored auspicious clouds intertwined and circled around us, then dispersed after a while. The Immortal Master pointed at me and admonished me: “Young man, remember well: even if you cultivate the Way of long life, Heaven may not take notice of you or grant you its protection. You should assess your own capacity before you cultivate.”

I bowed in gratitude and accepted the Immortal Master’s teaching. That day, clouds of five colors surrounded us and only dispersed after a while. Pointing to the sun, the Immortal Master said to me, “Be sure to remember this carefully. The gods of Heaven have sensed and witnessed what happened today. Why not write it down as a record, so that you may pass it on to the world when the time is right?” I now record these words after answering questions from later students, out of gratitude for the Immortal Master’s kindness. I dare not keep them to myself. I only hope that those who aspire to cultivate the Dao will reflect on them attentively and put them into practice; then my wish will be fulfilled.

Question: “Does receiving the true mandate and cultivating the Dao of nature and life also include cultivating nature?” Answer: “If you cannot cultivate your heart and nature, how can you establish nature and life? Nature is where life takes root; life is the foundation that allows nature to endure. Nature and life are originally one. How could nature not be cultivated?”

Question: “Since nature and life are one, realizing and completing the work of cultivating life should also bring realization of nature. Why, then, is it said that nature must still be cultivated after life has been cultivated?” Answer: “The nature cultivated while working on life is the inborn nature endowed from before birth. The nature cultivated after working on life is the nature of emptiness. The former comes from the transformations of Yin-Yang; the latter comes from Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). They cannot be regarded as being on the same level.”

Question: “In cultivating the nature of emptiness, is there a proper measure of timing and effort—knowing when to advance or withdraw, and when to hasten or slow down?” Answer: “The principle of cultivating nature is to preserve the body through the Dao, remain focused, and follow the natural course. Although this is called Wuwei (non-action), it still involves guarding against danger and maintaining careful vigilance. It does not mean doing nothing and sinking into extinction. Only in this way can one reach the state of true suchness and wondrous awakening: purity, truth, clarity, and awakened understanding.”

A commentary on the text says: “The method of cultivating nature depends on whether each person’s innate capacity is keen or dull; there is no fixed measure of timing and effort. If others make one part of the effort, you should make a hundred times as much; if they make ten parts, you should make a thousand. Until you have understood completely, there is no reason to stop practicing. Even after great and complete awakening, you must not grow careless for even a moment.

“To confirm this with the Buddhist scriptures, the practice of Guanyin Bodhisattva illustrates the principle. Practice must likewise suit each person and be sustained over time: do not stop before understanding is complete, and even after understanding, do not slacken in the slightest.”

To verify this with Buddhist scriptures: Bodhisattva Guanyin can see the vast universe clearly, as if viewing the lines on the palm of a hand. Shakyamuni Buddha, too, can clearly see the three thousand great thousand worlds, just as if looking at the lines on his palm. This luminous light of nature—the wisdom that manifests from one’s original nature—may already be said to have reached an exceedingly high level. Yet compared with Vairocana Tathagata, this radiance amounts to no more than one petal in the Tathagata’s thousand-petaled lotus throne. Shakyamuni Buddha’s luminous light of nature seems still to fall short by nine hundred and ninety-nine petals. From this we can understand that human nature has no limit. How, then, can one say that cultivation has a fixed end point?

Someone asked, “Does returning to true thusness and wondrous awakening—accord with the true, unchanging nature and attaining subtle enlightenment—mean reaching the end of the Dao?” The reply was, “Not yet. Only when emptiness itself is shattered is the matter brought to a complete end. If you still regard emptiness as something to seek or rely on, then the idea of ‘emptiness’ remains in your mind, and you cannot be said to have reached the end.”

Commentary: The “end point” spoken of here may be approachable if viewed in terms of the principles of cultivating nature and life. But from the standpoint of the Dao itself, neither nature nor life has an end. Buddhist scriptures say that the four great continents—the four principal regions in the Buddhist cosmos—can be contained in a grain of rice, and that even the tiniest speck of dust can hold them. Considered in their dispersed form, the world’s numbers are as countless as the sands of the Ganges; within each grain of sand are as many minute particles as there are countless, countless sands of the Ganges. The number of things in the world, like the Dao, has no end. People of aspiration should therefore continue cultivating diligently: practice has no end. If one believes that practice has an endpoint, the accumulated virtue and achievements will necessarily be unworthy of praise.

Question: Why do some say, “Cultivate life first, then cultivate nature,” while others say, “Cultivate nature first, then cultivate life”?

Answer: This refers to the gradual practice that must continue even after sudden awakening. People differ in the clarity of their innate endowment and in the sharpness of their understanding. Someone with clear Qi and keen insight may hear a master’s oral instructions and grasp their full meaning at once, recognizing their original face from before birth. They must then continue practicing steadily, protecting this original nature. This is to cultivate nature first and then advance to cultivating life. Someone whose Qi is less clear and whose understanding is slow may not awaken fully at once, even after receiving a master’s oral instructions. They must therefore progress gradually toward sudden awakening, moving from diligent practice to natural stability. This is to cultivate life first and then advance to cultivating nature.

Question: Does cultivating life mean practicing gradually?

Answer: Primordial Qi gradually dissipates, and restoring it also takes place step by step. The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality), a classic of Daoist internal alchemy, says: “For the most part, all depends on the power of sustained practice; the slightest deviation prevents the Elixir from forming.” In other words, cultivation largely depends on persistent effort; the smallest mistake can prevent the Elixir from being refined. The ancient immortals also said: “If words do not reach one another, you are not kin; if the work is not complete, you cannot attain wholeness.” That is, if people cannot communicate their intentions, they are not fellow practitioners; without completing the work, one cannot reach perfection. These sayings all describe the work of gradual cultivation.

“Question: In refining the elixir, the True Fire has no fixed hours, and the Great Medicine cannot be measured by weight. If one receives the correct instructions and continues cultivating, how could anything still go wrong?

“Answer: Saying that the True Fire has no fixed hours means that one need not divide the day into Zi and Wu hours according to the water clock. Saying that the Great Medicine cannot be measured by weight means that until the practice is perfected, the medicine will not take complete form. The Fire’s advance and retreat have no fixed times; they must be adjusted in response to circumstances. Nor is there a fixed standard for when to gather the medicine or when to refine and nourish it. Refining the Golden Elixir (Jindan, or internal alchemy) is extraordinarily subtle and precise. It involves auspicious and inauspicious signs, when to stop and when to continue, whether the Fire has reached its proper degree, the maturity or immaturity of the medicine’s Qi, and the need for urgency or patience. These distinctions must therefore be handled with care.”

“Question: Could you explain the principles of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness, stopping and reaching sufficiency, maturity and immaturity, urgency and patience?”

“Answer: Restoring the precelestial Qi is auspicious; acting in accordance with the postcelestial condition is inauspicious. When the medicine’s Qi has matured, it has reached sufficiency; when the Fire has reached the appropriate stage, one should stop. When the medicine’s Qi has just arisen, it is called ‘immature’; when its moment has passed, it is called ‘overripe.’ To act too hastily before obtaining the medicine, or to persist too slowly after obtaining it, is mistimed in either case. Understanding these principles allows the elixir to be restored and formed into the sacred embryo (the achievement spoken of in internal alchemy), while flexibly applying the methods of going with and against the flow.

“Question: The precelestial Way runs counter to the ordinary course. Why, then, is it also called ‘going with the flow’?

“Answer: This refers to gathering the precelestial Qi so that Yang Qi may return. The term ‘going with the flow’ means thereby accomplishing the work of postcelestial cultivation and causing Yin Qi to recede. To bring Yang Qi back and allow Yin Qi to flow through is for the precelestial to operate without contravening the Way of Heaven, while postcelestial cultivation follows the seasons of Heaven.”

Question: So-called “precelestial Qi” (the source Qi in cultivation, unaffected by acquired physical form and energy) is also generated by Heaven and Earth. Why, then, can Heaven and Earth not act against me?

Answer: Although precelestial Qi is generated by Heaven and Earth, those who have succeeded in cultivation can bring body and mind to rest, as though they existed before the cycles of Heaven and Earth began. When this Qi comes into being, they can cause it to arrive at once, without Heaven and Earth noticing. Thus the top nine line of the “Stripping” hexagram in the Book of Changes says, “A large fruit remains uneaten.” This means that one large fruit is still on the tree, untaken and uneaten. The fruit symbolizes the one Yang Qi that has been preserved: keeping it in place so that it no longer dissipates, as the basis for returning to the source. This is therefore called the “study of the precelestial.”

Question: The “Stripping” hexagram says that Yin Qi gradually wears away Yang Qi. How, then, can Yang Qi be restored after being stripped away?

Answer: The “Stripping” hexagram describes the changes that occur as Heaven and Earth follow their natural course: Yin grows strong and Yang declines, yet one Yang remains, kept from further depletion. The sage reverses this course and takes the remaining Yang as the basis for returning to the source. This is therefore called the “study of the precelestial.”

Question: The “Stripping” hexagram says that Yin Qi gradually wears away Yang Qi. How, then, can Yang Qi be restored after being stripped away?

Answer: The “Stripping” hexagram describes the changes that occur as Heaven and Earth follow their natural course. The sage reverses the workings of creation, turning Yang Qi from “Stripping” toward “Return,” and returning to the precelestial within the postcelestial. “Use six, but do not be used by six” means to make use of the Yin number—six represents Yin in the Book of Changes—without being governed by Yin’s force. In this way, Yin is used to save Yang. “Stealing the mechanism” means grasping the pivot of change in the workings of creation. This principle is something that people everywhere can neither know nor see.

Someone asked, “The Great Dao exists between Heaven and Earth, bright and upright. Why, then, is it called a ‘thief’?”

The reply was: “Heaven and Earth give people Qi and years of life, but only lend them temporarily. However long the loan lasts, it will ultimately be reclaimed. Thus Heaven and Earth secretly take people’s Qi without their noticing. When their Qi is exhausted, they die. The Perfected Ones—those who have succeeded in cultivating the Dao—understand the patterns of creation. Before their Qi is exhausted, they take the Qi of Heaven and Earth in return, while Heaven and Earth remain unaware, and thereby extend their lives. If they do not take it secretly but openly, Heaven and Earth will notice. Even if they can reverse and control the Qi of Heaven and Earth, and happen by good fortune to obtain it, they will already have lost their true Qi and gained only something false. That is why the true mechanism, though visible, cannot be taken up directly; to make use of it, one must remain unseen. Only by acting ahead of Heaven’s timing can Heaven and Earth fall within the scope of my art, and all things become available for my use.”

[Commentary] The Master’s reply was not made up out of thin air, but it is not a proper argument; it remains bound by the common understanding of the word “thief.” According to the Profound Explanation of the Three Sovereigns through the Analysis of Characters, the word “thief” has a subtler meaning: “cang” means to store away, as in a state’s treasury or a household’s granary. What Heaven stores is Wuji—the boundless, undifferentiated origin described in Daoism. What a person stores within the body is the apertures, the bodily openings associated with the movement of breath and with cultivation. The Perfected Ones conceal their names and traces, and so are called “thieves.” This explanation of the word “thief” seems more fitting.

As for the Qi of Heaven and Earth and the human body, Qi has no sound or visible form; it manifests naturally. When a person dies, Qi returns to its source. Heaven and Earth reclaim it in the same natural way, with no deliberate intent to demand or recover it. Therefore, the phrase “Heaven and Earth take people’s Qi while they are unaware” is inapt; it reflects a common turn of phrase in the writings of the various masters. Moreover, from the perspective of the Dao, Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—are not separate from one another, but manifestations of the same Qi. Nothing enters or leaves, and there is no taking or giving. What people call gain and loss are merely their own distinctions and arguments.

To one who has truly attained the Dao, the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are united as one, and the Six Directions—the four quarters, above, and below—are all contained within a single mind. Every thing is encompassed within the Limitless, the source of all things. There is therefore no distinction between gain and loss, taking and giving. In cultivation, what is there to take or give when one gathers in what is essential and casts off what is coarse and mixed? “Gain” and “loss” are merely terms that arise when people make distinctions and keep accounts.

To one who has truly attained the Dao, the Three Powers are united as one, and the Six Directions are all contained within a single mind. All things are encompassed within the Limitless; there is no distinction between inner and outer storehouses. Yet each stored thing has its own place and its own custodian. Taking and giving work the same way: gold is taken from the treasury, paintings from the hall, horses from the stable, clothes from the chest, utensils from the house, grain from the granary, food from the kitchen, and firewood from the yard. Each has someone responsible for it. To take or give, one need only set one’s intention; there is no need to point, gesture, or issue commands. How difficult can it be, then, to return to the precelestial state, the natural condition untouched by acquired distinctions and desires? This is how one can understand the saying, “When one wishes to practice benevolence, benevolence can be realized.” It is only that students of the Dao do not know how to cultivate themselves wholeheartedly. What is there to cling to or begrudge? And where is there anything to seek or ask for?

Some say, “Earth and Heaven are unaware,” and there seems to be some truth in this. But to say that this matter “lies within technique” is a serious error in wording. What is being discussed is the Great Dao of returning to the transformative workings of creation, yet summarizing it with the word “flavor” still follows the customary mode of expression in Daoist writings.

Some say, “Earth and Heaven are unaware,” and there seems to be some truth in this. But to say that this matter “lies within technique” is a serious error in wording. What is being discussed is the Great Dao of returning to the transformative workings of creation; summarizing it with the word “flavor” is also consistent with the customary mode of expression in Daoist writings. Moreover, “awareness” is a central aim of methods of cultivation; the culmination of practice is simply the attainment of perfect, penetrating awakening. One settles oneself before the precelestial state, waits in stillness for the first stirring of Qi, and then gathers it in. This is because, as soon as the Qi begins to appear, it is the “Yellow Sprout,” the term in Neidan for the nascent true Qi, and it has its function. It is not a matter of stealing or plundering while the transformations of Heaven and Earth have yet to be noticed. As human desires and acquired influences recede, the workings of creation return to the Limitless. This shows creation cherishing the Great Dao, and also carries the meaning of falling leaves returning to their roots. Those who understand the return seek only to restore the natural state. That state is already complete, like eating when hungry and drinking when thirsty in one’s parents’ presence; there is no need to reckon whether one is taking or giving.

The principle is originally just as stated. But once it is mixed with the arguments of the various schools, the solemn and upright meaning of the classics can turn into cunning schemes and deception. A hair’s breadth of error can lead a thousand miles astray. How, then, can we be careless with our words?

Someone asked, “People are born by receiving the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases from Heaven and Earth. They are simply one kind of being among all that exists. How can they surpass Heaven? Why do people say that Heaven, too, lies within the reach of my arts?”

The reply was, “Sages can surpass Heaven because they possess the Dao that embraces Heaven and Earth. By embracing Heaven and Earth, they can go beyond the ordinary course of their workings and turn their movement around. Thus they can say, ‘My fate rests with me, not with Heaven.’”

A comment on the passage says: “There is indeed a basis for this claim, but the reason for ‘surpassing Heaven’ has not been fully explained; it remains an expedient account. Students should understand that the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—all arise from the Taiji. Heaven, Earth, and humanity receive the same Dao. Heaven and Earth take mindlessness as their underlying nature, while human beings put the mind to work.”

The process of creation and transformation—the coming into being and changing of all things between Heaven and Earth—has no intention of its own. Yet it entrusts the work of movement and change to Heaven and Earth, and the work of conscious action to human beings, who live between them. Heaven and Earth merely provide the conditions for change to take place. Although the rise and decline of the age follow the transformations of Qi (vital energy), the decisive factor in the fortunes of human affairs, and in whether the course of events strays from its proper path, is people—not Heaven and Earth.

If people can take the Dao (the Way) as their model, and the Dao takes nature as its model, they can quiet their minds and observe the changes in the movement of Qi. Where there is too little, they can add to it; where there is too much, they can reduce it. Whenever changes arise—hardness and softness, strength and weakness, warmth and coolness, dryness and dampness, stagnation and sluggishness, or unrestrained excess—they should be brought back to balance so that none becomes dominant. Only then will giving life and taking life be fitting, and advance and withdrawal be appropriate. Apply this principle to the governance of human affairs, and the course of events will run smoothly; apply it to cultivating Neidan (internal alchemy), and the Elixir will coalesce. In this way, people do not betray the purpose for which the Dao entrusted them with this responsibility. Heaven and Earth each take their proper place, and all things are able to grow. Because people play this role, they are called endowed with wisdom and are able to stand alongside Heaven and Earth as the “Three Powers.”

Those who study and cultivate should understand this principle and observe the Dao at all times, without mixing in selfish motives. Like the sages of antiquity, they should neither take their responsibility lightly nor betray their own innermost nature. Though people possess awareness and the capacity to act, that ability does not belong to them alone: it is bestowed by the process of creation and transformation, and is held within the human body by Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), the fundamental source of all things. This is why it is said that “the human being is the heart of Heaven and Earth.”

The rise and decline of the age are in fact brought about by people; Heaven and Earth do not act in their place. Since people bear this responsibility, whenever anyone lacks a secure place to live, it is as though they themselves were being whipped in the marketplace. Confucians use this to explain the benevolent person’s deep concern; Buddhism and Daoism take the salvation of all beings as their charge. All these teachings arise from the fact that people truly bear this responsibility.

The Master’s reply is a provisional explanation addressed to changes arising in the postcelestial realm. It is not a classical theory and should not be accepted without careful scrutiny.

Moreover, human beings dwell amid the four directions of Heaven and Earth, as tiny as a grain of millet in the vast ocean. Yet, endowed with this mind, they bear a corresponding responsibility. The ancient sages never lightly declined this responsibility because they understood that this mind is precisely the fundamental Primordial One—the original source, the first unity—within the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth. It is so vast that it has no boundaries, yet so subtle that it has no interior limits. Daoists call it the “Dao mind,” Confucians the “Heavenly mind,” and Buddhists the “Buddha mind.” This does not refer to the physical heart, whose only function is to generate and transform blood.

The “Heaven” in the saying “human resolve can overcome Heaven” refers to postcelestial Heaven, not the precelestial. The claim that “the Dao moves in reverse” does not mean going against the Dao itself; it means reversing the direction of the postcelestial and returning to the source. Here, the word “reverse” has the sense of welcoming or turning back, as in “welcoming the bride” in the Zuo Tradition. The word “method” explains how the Dao is put into practice. This distinction is made explicitly to prevent later readers from misunderstanding.

Someone asked, “Could you explain how human effort can overcome Heaven?”

The answer was: “The Dao is a single Qi within precelestial emptiness, the foundation from which Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things come into being. The sage begins the work from emptiness, and so can bring it about that Heaven does not oppose him. Consider how some people are fated to be bereft of spouse or children, die young, or live in poverty, yet through a great act of Virtue or an outstanding good deed, those who were fated to be bereft may come to have many descendants, those who were destined to die young may live long lives, and those who were poor may become wealthy and honored. Virtuous conduct can change one’s fate under Heaven—that is exactly what this means. What, then, is so strange about the Dao being able to overcome Heaven?”

Some who have studied and verified the teaching say: “The Master’s answer is correct, but the principle that human beings can overcome Heaven has not yet been fully explained. Why not plainly describe the practice by which people establish themselves in the emptiness of space?”

This Qi—the original vital energy through which Heaven and Earth operate—arises from Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate). It has no coming or going. What, then, could there be to come and go? It is only through human beings’ responses that it answers and resonates. Qi itself has no intention of its own. Its movement waxes and wanes because human responses are partial; the responsibility cannot be blamed on Qi.

A perfected person understands this principle and establishes themself in “nonbeing,” keeping the mind empty and still. The responses stirred by ordinary people’s thoughts are hard to fathom, while Heaven’s Qi naturally reveals its movements and stillness within the emptiness. A perfected person can discern the beginnings of growth or decline as soon as events show their first signs. By calmly examining them, they can seize the moment and turn things back as soon as a sign appears: what should be welcomed is welcomed, and what should be stopped is stopped, without the least effort. Ordinary people do not understand this principle, yet the subtle wonder of our Dao is already fully present within it, though unseen. It is like quietly reflecting on one’s own mind: one notices a thought as soon as it arises. At the very first stir of a thought, whether to follow it or refuse it is up to oneself. Why wait until the thought has been put into action before trying to suppress it?

The human body itself is Qi. As soon as a thought moves, Qi responds to it, as swiftly as an echo. By extension, the resonance between Heaven and humanity is just as swift. To turn it around at the moment it arises is what it means to “overcome.” There is nothing earth-shattering about it. The Master did not make this point clear, so I have added this explanation here.

Someone asked, “Does cultivating the Dao also require accumulating De?” The reply was, “How could it not? The Dao cannot exist without De, just as Yang cannot exist without Yin. De means doing things for others; the Dao is something one cultivates for oneself.”

“Must those who study the Dao also accumulate De?” The reply was, “How could they not? The Dao cannot exist without De, just as Yang cannot exist without Yin. De means doing things for others; the Dao is something one cultivates for oneself. If students of the Dao do not first accumulate De, they will be rejected by ghosts and spirits. Inner demons will often cloud their minds, preventing their cultivation from deepening. If those who cultivate the Dao do not first nurture their De, they will lack the protection of Heaven and Earth. Outer demons will often obstruct them, making it hard for their practice to progress. Therefore, whether studying or cultivating the Dao, one must first establish De. Only then can misfortune turn to good fortune and danger give way to safety, leading ultimately to realization of the Dao.

“The stages attainable through Dao cultivation have an end, but the accumulation of De can be limitless. After realizing the Dao, the immortals and perfected beings of ancient times continued to accumulate merit and practice good deeds in the human world. Only after completing ‘three thousand meritorious deeds and eight hundred good acts’—the conditions for perfecting one’s merit in Daoist legend—would they receive an imperial decree from Heaven. The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality, a Daoist Neidan classic) says: ‘If you do not cultivate and accumulate hidden De, demons of every kind may at any moment become obstacles to your practice of the Dao.’ How could one fail to cultivate De?”

Commentary: The commentator considers the original reply correct. By practicing the “Three Nuns’ Healing of the World” method described in Lüzu’s Exposition of the Three Nuns’ Discourse on Healing the World, one can benefit the world through self-cultivation, without spending money or exerting effort, and achieve the practical effect of assisting Heaven and Earth in nurturing all things. This method was once regarded as a treasured secret transmission of the Vinaya school, the Buddhist tradition centered on monastic discipline. It has now been printed and circulated for the benefit of the public. Those who aspire to the Great Dao need no longer worry about the demons that the Wuzhen pian says obstruct the Dao; they can also bring benefit to themselves and to the world. The author of the original text did not mention this. The commentator supposes that he probably had not heard of it.

“Is a true cultivator completely destitute, relying on others to provide food and clothing? How can they have money to accumulate virtue?”

“Accumulating virtue does not necessarily require spending money. Good deeds done without spending can sometimes be greater than charitable deeds that cost money. The most important thing for a monastic is to understand ‘skillful means’—that is, to help others in an appropriate way whenever the occasion arises. For example, bear hardship yourself so others may benefit; speak honestly; do not deceive donors; distribute medicine and offer tea; build bridges and repair roads; encourage people to do good. Do anything that may bring even a little benefit to others, and avoid anything that may cause them even slight harm. These are all ways of accumulating virtue and putting it into practice. Continue in this way, and you will build good relationships with people and may also form a bond with Heaven. It benefits others as well as yourself.”

[Commentary] This answer is quite right. Whether one cultivates superior or lesser virtue, one should first uphold good conduct. Do this for three years, and you can repay karmic debts accumulated in the past. Then, by undertaking work to aid the world and save people, you can accomplish great merit.

“Will concentrating on accumulating virtue interfere with cultivating the Dao?”

“How could it? Accumulate virtue outwardly and cultivate the Dao inwardly. Use virtuous conduct to support Dao cultivation, and let the Dao bring virtue to fulfillment. The Dao and De proceed together; inner cultivation and outward good deeds bring one another to fruition. This is the grounded work of sages and worthies. It is unlike the empty talk of the middle and lower Two Vehicles—the lower levels of cultivation—which speaks of Wuwei (non-action) in the abstract and mistakes keeping watch over a single thought for genuine Dao cultivation.”

[Commentary] In my view, the so-called “Great Dao of Healing the World” means aiding the world and saving people through one’s own cultivation. This is the grounded learning of sages, the highest Dao—not the use of spells. Its practical effects are clear and real: one’s own life becomes stable, and society is brought into order. However, one must first open the “Mysterious Pass,” a crucial aperture in Neidan cultivation, before beginning the practice. The work consists entirely of cultivating nature and life, while allowing virtue and efficacy to grow together. This is the highest method of the alchemical Dao. Those who aspire to the Great Dao may cultivate in this way.

The method is as follows: take the head as Heaven, the “Crimson Palace”—the heart chamber in Neidan cultivation—as the capital, and the “Kun Abdomen”—the belly—as the countryside. The most essential instruction in the mnemonic formula is to use intention to welcome the “True Qi of Wuji,” regarded as the Qi of the source, and guide it downward.

In cultivation, regard the head as Heaven, the Vermilion Palace (the chamber within the body associated with the heart) as the capital, and the Kun Abdomen (the belly, symbolizing Earth) as the people’s dwellings. The most important instruction in the oral formula is this: use intention to welcome the true Qi of Wuji (the formless source), guide it downward into the center of the abdomen, then let it pass through the back. In this way, the mind becomes still and clear, the breath calm and harmonious, and the whole body fills with peaceful Qi. This is the aim of cultivation: do not count the years or months, practice three times each day, and do not hasten to ask what results you will gain.

This method of cultivation takes the mind teaching of the supreme Mahayana as its guiding principle. The commentary says that this is the Great Dao described in the Doctrine of the Mean: when the mind is still and clear, welcome the Qi of Qian; when it is calm and balanced, welcome the Qi of Kun, bringing the two kinds of Qi into harmony. This is a method of integrating virtue into the practice of the Dao.

Question: Confucians speak of preserving and nurturing the original mind and cultivating one’s inborn nature; Daoists speak of cultivating the mind and nature; Buddhists speak of illuminating the original mind and seeing one’s nature. The sages of all three teachings take mind and nature as the foundation of their instruction. Yet now you say, “The mind is not the Dao.” This is truly difficult to understand.

Answer: The Dao is the Dao, and mind and nature are mind and nature. This does not mean that mind and nature themselves are the Dao. Preserving the mind and nurturing nature is meant to put the Dao into practice. Cultivating the mind and refining nature is meant to keep them from obstructing the Dao. Illuminating the mind and seeing one’s nature is meant to bring the Dao to completion. In other words, mind and nature are used to cultivate the Dao; cultivating mind and nature in itself is not the Dao. Besides, to speak of preserving, cultivating, and illuminating is already to go beyond pure emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). If completely emptying the mind truly were the Dao, then the mind would be the Dao; simply cultivating the mind would bring long life, and nurturing it would make one immortal. Why, then, seek out teachers and friends and ask for the so-called true instruction that “nature is the Dao”?

Question: If the mind is not the Dao, then is the Dao found in the arising and subsiding, entering and departing of thoughts?

Answer: The mind is the source that draws people into the cycle of birth and death, and it is also an obstacle to cultivating the Dao. When practitioners begin their work, they must first remove it completely so they can advance without being hindered by it. The sages said, “The human mind is perilous and difficult to settle; the Dao mind is subtle and difficult to discern.” The harm the mind does to people is truly great.

Someone asked, “Isn’t the Dao heart simply a heart?” The answer was: “The Dao heart is the fundamental heart of Heaven and Earth. Although it is called a heart, it cannot be understood as an ordinary one. It is empty, luminous, and still; there is no principle it does not contain, and nothing can cling to it. It is the purest, most wondrous Qi among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), and is also called True Yang, True Lead, the True Seed, the Black Tiger, the Metal Lord, True Essence, Divine Illumination, Metal in Water, Yang within Kan, the deathless formula from the other house, the Ninth-Third Young Lord, the Luminous Child, and by other names. In sum, these are all alternate names for the Dao heart.”

The Dao heart has no form or image, no sound or scent, and is rarely encountered by people in the world. Even if one happens upon it, one may miss it right before one’s eyes without carefully discerning it. The sages use methods of cultivation to draw it forth and gather it, accomplishing the “Nine Returns and Seven Reversals”—a term in Neidan (internal alchemy) for the cyclical return of essence and Qi—from the void, and thereby rise beyond the ordinary to become a sage.

In Confucianism, this is expressed as the way of the Mean; in Buddhism, as the way of the One Vehicle; and in Daoism, as the way of the Golden Elixir. Monks and Daoist practitioners of later generations who do not understand the great Way passed down in an unbroken line by the sages, and who falsely claim that Buddhist and Daoist principles differ from those of Confucianism, are profoundly ignorant.

Someone asked, “The Great Way of the Golden Elixir, the path of Neidan cultivation, is the Way of the Mean. Why, then, did Confucius speak so little about the principles of nature and life?”

The reply was: “Confucius did not never speak of them; he simply did not speak of them lightly. The principles of nature and life are profound. They concern the keys to altering the transformations of creation and transforming life and death, and speaking of them can easily leave people astonished and doubtful. The Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean both teach about body and mind, nature and life; they already reveal the secrets of Heaven quite plainly, though people themselves have not noticed. The Ten Commentaries on the Changes, too, are all about investigating the principles of things, fully understanding one’s nature, and penetrating the Way of nature and life. Later generations failed to understand the great principles within them, and argued over their respective religious traditions, slandering one another. How could they know that the gate of the Dao and its principles is the gate of all mysteries, and also the gate of nonduality?”

Someone asked, “Since Confucius spoke of nature and life, why did he not also transmit the methods of the firing process—the rules for advancing and withdrawing, regulating the breath, and so on, in Neidan cultivation?”

The reply was: “Understanding the hexagrams and their changing lines is itself a transmission of the firing process. The principles of good fortune, misfortune, regret, and humiliation in the hexagrams and lines correspond directly to the practical work of adding and subtracting, advancing and withdrawing in cultivation. The secrets of Heaven have already been fully revealed; what matters is whether people can grasp them.”

Someone asked, “Yan Hui was foremost among Confucius’s disciples for his virtue. Hearing one point, he could infer ten; he never contradicted Confucius’s teachings. Though he appeared dull, he could understand and develop their principles, and Confucius greatly praised him. Surely he understood the Way of nature and life. Why, then, did he die so young?”

The reply was: “Whether someone has awakened to the Way of nature and life must be judged by principle, not by the physical body alone. Without awakening to the Great Way, one is as good as dead even while alive. Having awakened to the Great Way, one remains present even after death. What dies is the illusory form; what does not perish is the Dao.”

Yan Hui, also known as Yan Yuan, understood Confucius’s Dao. Even amid hardships that ordinary people could scarcely endure, he remained at ease. Once he grasped a principle of goodness, he held fast to it and never lost it. This shows that he had attained the innate, primordial unity of Qi—the original vital energy believed to be received from before birth—and returned to his source and original nature. No longer bound by the transformations of Yin and Yang, he had reached the state of a sage. Naturally, he was no longer attached to this illusory fleshly body and could even cast it aside. During the siege at Kuang, he said to Confucius, “While you are still here, how would I, Yan Hui, dare to die?” This is also enough to show that life and death are in one’s own hands, rather than governed by Heaven’s decree.

As for Confucius’s remark that Yan Hui “died young, unfortunately,” it was a way of using Yan Hui to encourage the other disciples. If he had truly died young, could someone who understood the Great Dao still have a short life? Would one urge someone who was not destined to die young to learn how to die young? Confucius’s words were already quite clear. How could they be misunderstood?

Someone asked, “After attaining the Dao, can one’s lifespan become as long as Heaven’s? Why, then, did Yan Hui die at thirty-two?” The reply was: “After attaining the Dao, there is another body beyond the physical one. This is called the true body, or the Yang Spirit—a spiritual body formed through cultivation. The Yang Spirit is the true body, indestructible as diamond. Once the Yang Spirit has appeared, looking back at this illusory fleshly body is like looking at a heap of excrement. What is there to cherish? Sages temporarily keep the fleshly body only in order to cultivate the true body. Once the true body is complete, the fleshly body has no further use. Why not cast it aside?”

Question: Confucius lived into his seventies before he died. Does that mean his Daoist cultivation was less advanced than Yan Hui’s, who attained it sooner?

Answer: Confucius devoted himself to saving the world. He intended to put the Dao into practice throughout the realm and use it to awaken the people. By the time of the western hunt, when a qilin was captured in the western outskirts of the state of Lu in Confucius’s later years, he had realized that the Great Dao could not be put into practice in his own age. Yet he could not bear to let it be lost. So he revised the Book of Songs and the Book of Documents, organized the Book of Rites and the Book of Music, expounded the Book of Changes, and compiled the Spring and Autumn Annals. He hoped in this way to awaken the minds of later generations living in ignorance and fulfill, at least in part, his wish to save the world. Once that wish was fulfilled, he left the world. Yan Hui had already attained the Dao and had taken on the task of saving the world before Confucius. Since there was nothing more he needed to labor to accomplish, he could transcend his bodily form and leave the world early.

Commentary: Confucius and Yan Hui both had the ability to determine the time of their deaths, yet neither chose to do so; this can be seen in the classics. Has the Master not noticed this? Perhaps he answered as he did for some particular reason. To state the matter according to sound principle: when Confucius faced danger at Kuang, he trusted in Heaven’s decree. Yan Hui, too, trusted in Heaven’s decree, and so neither feared the danger nor died. Yan Hui’s short life shows precisely that Confucius and Yan Hui followed Heaven’s decree and did not dare defy Heaven’s will by choosing their own time of death. That is why Yan Hui died and Confucius mourned him so deeply. Confucius trusted in Heaven, and Yan Hui did as well; therefore, they were unafraid in danger and did not die there. Yan Hui’s early death was an act of following his allotted fate: he did not dare use his powers of cultivation to defy Heaven’s will. This had nothing to do with possessing some magical art of transformation. If Yan Hui did not dare to die while his teacher was alive, could he have died while his father was alive? This shows that Yan Hui did not go against Heaven’s decree; it was not a matter of whether he possessed an art of transformation.

The teachings of the Three Traditions—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—all stress learning and cultivation in order to establish principles for living. This is precisely so that one may accept one’s allotted fate. Thus, whether one’s life is long or short, one’s attitude remains the same: cultivate oneself and one’s nature, and await Heaven’s arrangements. The Master surely understands this as well. Perhaps he answered as he did here for some other reason. Besides, the earlier answer already said, “Illusion has life and death; the Dao has neither.” Later students should be able to grasp the point from this.

People in the world who cultivate the Dao or study the Dao often do so with private motives. What more can I say? Everything people long for is laid bare in the questions that follow. In the end, there are two failings: greed for long life and a desire for the strange and extraordinary. After hearing my teacher’s answer to the questions below, I fear that more than five thousand people will leave before he has finished. How tragic!

Someone asked, “If the illusory body, made of flesh and blood, cannot attain the Dao, why do people say that the Yellow Emperor rode a dragon up to Heaven at Dinghu, and that Perfected Xu (Xu Xun, revered in Daoism) ascended with his entire household?”

He replied, “These events did indeed take place, but they cannot be understood literally. The Great Dao of the Golden Elixir—that is, the path of Neidan cultivation—teaches ‘taking from Kan to fill Li, and relying on Kun to return to Qian.’ In other words, through cultivation, Yin energy is entirely dispelled and one returns to pure Yang. Once the Dao is attained, all Yin within the body has departed, and the body becomes a Qian body, wholly pure Yang. One breaks through the void and becomes a Celestial Immortal of the Great Luo Heaven. This is what ‘riding a dragon up to Heaven’ means; it does not mean that a physical body truly rides a dragon away from the human world.

“As for ‘ascending with the entire household,’ it means that when a person attains the Dao, their ancestors for nine generations also ascend to Heaven. Another account says that when a cultivator has amassed great merit, the Jade Emperor ennobles and protects the whole family, allowing them to move to a blissful realm in Heaven and enjoy blessings and fortune bestowed from above. Or they may move to a blessed grotto-heaven, a Daoist immortal realm, far from the troubles of the human world. Those who do not understand the meaning assume that the entire family ascends bodily and becomes immortal. Remember: immortals become so through cultivation. Without cultivation and realization, how could anyone become an immortal? From this, you can understand the saying ‘ascending with the entire household.’”

There is another kind of fool who imagines that houses and dwellings must also be abandoned. Consider this: Immortals dwell in the realm of emptiness. Houses, earth, and timber are heavy, turbid things—how could emptiness support them? Besides, Immortals encompass Heaven and Earth and lack for nothing. Why, then, would they yearn for the wooden and stone houses of the dusty world? Alas, even the illusory fleshly body must be relinquished; why cling to earth and timber? Why not think this through more carefully?

Additional testimony: I once asked the Great Void Elder about this. He said, “This principle is absolutely true: cultivating the Dao means using illusory things to refine what is real. First, one transforms red into white; next, white into Qi; then, further still, Qi into Qi—the primordial energy of the precelestial state. Through continuous cultivation, one returns to still emptiness and joins with the Dao, ultimately attaining natural Wuwei (non-action). All of this is done to return to the original precelestial source.

“Yet this does not mean practicing one method today and another tomorrow. It is a complete regimen carried out within a single shichen, a two-hour period. Only through steadfast practice over many days and months, year after year, can it be perfected. When one’s Dao practice is complete and one is about to ascend, the body is composed entirely of condensed precelestial Qi, and one’s clothes and shoes, too, are transformed from Qi. Thus, even when standing in the sunlight, one casts no shadow.”

I visited Elder Niwan, an immortal in Daoist legend, three times to seek his instruction. He replied, “Do you still not understand that ‘returning to the source’—in cultivation, passing from form back into the formless and returning to one’s original nature—is not an illusion?”

As I pondered this, he took my headscarf in one hand and my hat in the other, and had me lower my head to look. I saw only the shadow of the headscarf; beyond it, there was nothing. While I was still astonished, he placed the hat on my head and put the headscarf on his own. I still saw only my headscarf, and could not see the shadow of the hat. Elder Niwan laughed and said, “Now you can grasp it! But cultivation must begin with steady, unadorned practice in order to reach ‘returning to emptiness’—a return to stillness and the formless. Until the subtlest traces have dissolved, subtle images will continue to appear.”

I then brought up the matter of “raising the whole household”—the legend that a cultivator ascends to heaven together with his home. He replied, “There are two ways this can happen: through magical arts, or through the Dao. What magical arts produce is like an illusion; what the Dao produces is real. A survey of accounts from ancient and modern times yields more than seventy cases of raising the whole household and ascending. Only three—Yellow Emperor, Huan Xuan, and Zhenbai, the title of Tao Hongjing—truly ascended through the Dao. As for Boyang (Laozi), Huainan (Liu An, King of Huainan), and Jingyang (Xu Xun), they used magical arts to proclaim the Great Dao. In fact, they withdrew to places such as islands in the sea and continued practicing methods such as returning to emptiness. Whether they had truly attained the Dao is uncertain. These are cases in which the physical body departed together with the home. The Yellow Emperor, Huan Xuan, and Zhenbai ascended bodily; most of the others left their bodies behind and departed—more than eight hundred people in all. Yet without the recommendation of the Three Officials (of Heaven, Earth, and Water) and an imperial edict from the Jade Emperor granting ascension, no one can hope to ascend by chance. Could ascension all be an illusion? Could the immortal Dao not be a state that ordinary people can cultivate and attain?”

That is what my master related. I record it here as a supplement, to corroborate the accounts found in the texts.

My teacher also said, “The so-called ‘sacred art of lifting an entire household’ begins with ‘guarding the egg.’ The key to guarding the egg is to regard Heaven and Earth as your own Dharma Body—the fundamental form contemplated by a practitioner—and let the Qi throughout your body circle and flow like the atmosphere, extending downward to cover the ground and upward to enfold the clouds. Then gradually draw its range in from afar to near, and keep practicing without slackening. When Qi joins with Gang—the protective force around the body—and you have cultivated Gang-Qi to the point where it can shield you, so that wind, rain, clouds, and mist cannot disturb you, the practice will begin to show results. Advance further, until even snakes and beasts cannot enter when a door is open, and your cultivation will have reached another level. Persist until the time is ripe, and moving to another place will no longer be difficult.

“Yet in three thousand years, only two immortals achieved this: the Ancestor Wei Boyang, known as ‘Wei the Patriarch Boyang,’ and the Ancestor Xu Xun, known as ‘Xu of the Distant Journey.’ My teacher Li of the Mud Ball Palace—that is, a senior of the Li family who used ‘Mud Ball’ as his title—believed that the Way of lifting an entire household had little to do with personal cultivation, so I did not dare practice it.

“My teacher also said, ‘When sages of old performed the ascent of an entire household, they were usually driven to it by necessity. Liu An, the Prince of Huainan, and Xu Xun of Jingyang were probably such cases. The Prince of Huainan’s whole family, three generations in all, ascended to Heaven, with the help of the Eight Lords. Xu Xun, meanwhile, accumulated merit by refining the “yellow and white”—a term in alchemy for substances such as gold and silver—and his disciples followed him. Later, after they incurred Heaven’s punishment, he intended to deal with them according to the rules. He therefore turned charcoal into singing girls to test his followers. Of more than eight hundred disciples, only ten, including Yuzhen and Yinzhen, managed to uphold the three precepts. Thus only Changyu and the others were able to ascend; the remaining 791 failed to pass through this ordeal. The Prophetic Text of the Sands of the Dragon was left behind to record the event. The precepts must be observed strictly; these precedents are sufficient warning.’

“My teacher told these stories with a purpose, so I have recorded them here as well.”

Question: If the illusory body—the body made of flesh and blood, not the true body sought through cultivation—has no use, why are there practitioners whose coffins are found empty after they die, while others leave behind only a bamboo staff, or just their clothes and shoes? Does this not mean they took even the illusory body with them?

Answer: These cases cannot all be treated alike. Some people, having succeeded in cultivating the Dao, leave behind the illusory body, and their Dharma Body—the true body attained through cultivation—appears somewhere else. After decades of accumulating merit and practicing virtue, when their cultivation and merit are complete, they ascend to pay court to the Jade Emperor. They do not reveal Heaven’s secrets; they merely appear to die before departing. People in the world do not understand the subtle workings involved. Seeing nothing in the coffin, they assume that the physical body became immortal.

Others have not yet succeeded in cultivating the Dao. To escape calamity, they perform a transformation, leaving a staff, clothes, and shoes in their place while their true body flees far away without a trace. This, too, is not attaining the Dao through the physical body.

The Most High said, “The reason I have great troubles is that I have this body. When I no longer have a body, what troubles could I have?” Thus, what is called shedding the illusory body means letting go of attachment to the body.

Question: Some people preserve their physical form and remain in the world for a long time without leaving the illusory body. Why is this?

Answer: These cases, too, cannot all be treated alike. Some have already succeeded in cultivating the Dao, but their merit and practice are not yet sufficient, so they preserve their physical form and continue to accomplish good works. Others have completed the cultivation of life but not the cultivation of nature: they have focused on refining bodily life but have not completed the cultivation of the mind and nature. Unable to leave the illusory body, they remain in the world in their physical form. If someone has cultivated both nature and life to completion and fulfilled their work, yet still clings to the illusory body and refuses to relinquish it, this is called being a “ghost who clings to home”—something immortals do not wish to become.

Commentary: The commentator believes that a so-called “ghost who clings to home” must be an obstinate immortal who has not understood the study of nature, the cultivation of the mind and nature. Such people have not perfected their nature; nor is the “life” they claim to have perfected the life ordained by Heaven. Rather, they rely on the discriminating mind—the consciousness that makes distinctions and engages in thought—to sustain the illusory body. When people in the world say that they have perfected both nature and life, that is merely a common way of speaking. There is another possibility: a practitioner may aspire to the highest realm, without clinging to physical form, and refine the body until it becomes so subtle that it can no longer be perceived, ultimately achieving complete reception and complete return. There were people like this among the sages of antiquity; they should not be called “ghosts who cling to home.” This distinction must be made clear.

Someone asked, “If one has completed the cultivation of life but has not understood the principles of nature, one will remain burdened by this illusory body. Why not first understand the principles of nature and seek transcendence?”

The reply was, “It depends on what one learned from one’s master in the beginning. If one understands the whole teaching thoroughly, then after completing the cultivation of life, one will naturally continue on to realize one’s nature, shed the illusory body, and manifest the Dharma body. This follows naturally. Some people understand only the principles of life, not those of nature; they can become only Immortals on Earth, living forever without dying. Although they wish to leave the illusory body behind, they cannot. If they know that a higher level of practice remains, they should continue seeking a master and the secret instructions, grasp the final step, and move from deliberate cultivation into Wuwei (non-action). Then they will no longer be burdened by the illusory body. When they reach the state in which there is a body beyond the body and form and spirit are both wondrous, they will unite with the Dao and realize the true.”

Someone else asked, “The Dao of Wuwei is cultivated by people of superior De to preserve form and spirit. Why, then, should people of inferior De also cultivate Wuwei in order to extend their lives?”

The reply was, “People of superior De have suffered no loss to their innate foundation, and the numinous chamber—the place where innate primordial Qi or spiritual nature resides in cultivation—has not yet closed. Once they receive the true instructions, understanding one thing opens the way to understanding everything, and they can pass directly beyond the threshold of life and death. Thus, although they cultivate the Dao of Wuwei, the results of deliberate cultivation are included as well: they understand the principles of nature and preserve their lives.

People of inferior De have already suffered a loss to their innate foundation, and various illnesses follow. Even after receiving their master’s oral instructions, they cannot immediately attain a state of purity and unity. They must proceed step by step, moving from strenuous cultivation to natural stability. Once they have completed the cultivation of life, they ultimately take the same path as people of superior De, and only then can they cultivate Wuwei. This does not mean that people of superior De practice only Wuwei, while people of inferior De practice only deliberate cultivation.”

When Dao cultivation reaches its highest stage, neither being nor nonbeing still applies, and Heaven and Earth alike return to emptiness and stillness. Neither the deliberate methods of cultivation nor the methods of Wuwei (non-action), which follow nature without deliberate effort, are of any use. When the scripture speaks of deliberate action and non-action, it refers to methods for beginning cultivation. The starting methods differ not only for those with higher and lower foundations or approaches to cultivating the Dao, but also for men and women.

Question: “How do the starting methods for men’s and women’s cultivation differ?”

Answer: “For men, the key is refining Qi (vital energy); for women, it is refining the body. Refining Qi means bringing one’s breath under control and causing the Qi to turn back. Once the Qi turns back, one can reach a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, return to the root and restore the source of life. At that point, the White Tiger—a Neidan (internal alchemy) term symbolizing Jing (essence) or the gate through which it is lost—is subdued. Refining the body means making the physical form disappear; the key is to dissolve it. Once the body has dissolved, the Four Great Elements—earth, water, fire, and wind, which constitute the body—return to emptiness and stillness, as though the limbs had fallen away and vanished. The Red Channel, a symbol for women’s menstruation, also ceases.

“After a man subdues the White Tiger, he returns to a childlike body, in which Jing no longer leaks away. He can then form the Elixir and prolong his life. After a woman’s Red Channel ceases, she transforms into a male body—a description in Daoist cultivation of a change in the Yin body. Her Yin, turbid blood no longer flows downward, enabling her to transcend death and be reborn. Thus, men’s cultivation is called ‘refining Qi in the Great Yang,’ and women’s is called ‘refining the body in the Great Yin.’”

Question: “Does a woman refining the body not also need to bring her breath under control?”

Answer: “Women belong to Yin, so their Qi is more easily subdued. The Red Channel is what most obstructs cultivation, so refining the body focuses on this.”

Question: “Does a woman refining the body not also need to bring her breath under control?”

Answer: “Women belong to Yin, so their Qi is more easily subdued. The Red Channel is what most obstructs cultivation; therefore, the focus of cultivation is to cut it off. Once the Red Channel ceases, the Qi will naturally become docile. Men belong to Yang, and their Qi is harder to subdue. For example, a man may need three years to bring his breath under control, while a woman can do so in one year.”

A woman who truly deserves to be called “a hero among women,” receives her master’s oral instructions and practices the “Method of Refining the Form of Great Yin” (a Daoist method of cultivation adapted to women’s bodies and Yin nature), may attain the Dao within three to five years. This method can require less effort than men’s cultivation. Yet it is rare to meet someone with the spirit of such a “hero among women.” The point here is that a woman must be far more resolute and steadfast than a man to achieve success. If she is only as strong-willed as a man, she will often find it difficult to succeed.

Question: The Great Dao makes no distinction between men and women. Why, then, distinguish between them in cultivation?

Answer: The Dao being cultivated is the same, but the methods and their application differ. This is because men and women have different natural dispositions and bodily structures. Thus, although they cultivate the same Dao of nature and life (the cultivation of both spiritual nature and embodied life), their actual practices differ greatly.

Question: How does one sever the Red Channel?

Answer: The Red Channel is formed from acquired Yin energy. When Yin energy stirs, turbid blood flows out. To transform the blood, first regulate and refine Qi. Once the Qi has been transformed, the blood rises and enters the breasts, changing from red to white before circulating throughout the body. This prevents the distress of blazing desire and restless heat. As desire subsides, the True Fire (the innate Qi and vital essence spoken of in cultivation) will appear. From then on, cultivation can proceed steadily and smoothly, and preserving life and the body will no longer be difficult.

Question: Once the Golden Elixir has been perfected, can swallowing it really turn a woman into a man and make an old person young again?

Answer: This explains the principles of cultivation; it does not mean that the body literally changes. After attaining the Dao, a woman refines away the various Yin qualities and reaches a state of pure Yang, the same as a man who has attained the Dao. This is why people say, “a woman turns into a man.” After attaining the Dao, an old person returns to the primordial state and reaches pure Yang, like a child whose life is complete. This is why people say, “an old person becomes a child again.” It does not mean that a person’s appearance or body undergoes some miraculous transformation.

Someone asked, “If the Dao does not depend on outward appearances, why is it not transmitted to people who lack one or more of the six faculties?” The answer was, “People who lack one or more of the six faculties are called disabled; they are considered unable to undertake great affairs. The Dao is the most precious thing between Heaven and Earth. Cultivating it means drawing upon Yin-Yang and seizing the creative power of Heaven and Earth. This is work for a great sage. How could disabled people accomplish something so earth-shaking?”

The answer continued, “They cannot do it, not because they do not wish to, but because their bodies impose limitations and their Qi flow is obstructed. To transmit the Great Dao to them would be like placing a precious and useful treasure where it could serve no purpose. This would surely bring Heaven’s punishment, so one dares not teach it. If people who lack one or more of the six faculties are truly capable of great achievement and exemplary conduct, they may be guided in the shallower methods concerning the principles of nature, so that they can learn the way of coming and going, staying and departing. As for the Golden Elixir Great Dao—the path of cultivation centered on refining and nourishing Jing, Qi, and Shen to form the internal elixir—one absolutely dares not teach it. Only those who have heard the Great Dao understand this secret for themselves.”

Someone asked, “There are also people with all six faculties who have not grasped the principles of life, and understand only the principles of nature. Do they not know the principles of life?” The answer was, “The principles of life concern the methods of Nine Returns and Seven Reversions, and the Great Reversion Elixir of Golden Liquor. They are transmitted only once in countless ages. Unless someone is a true great person with resolute and steadfast purpose and the capacities of a sage, they cannot receive them. A true master, too, dares not teach them lightly. Even if the master were to try, unseen spirits would intervene and prevent it. This is because that person is not a vessel capable of bearing the Great Dao. To transmit the Dao to someone unsuitable is to reveal Heaven’s secrets.”

Cultivating the principles of nature—that is, realizing one’s inherent nature and holding to the center while embracing the One—is a method suited to people of modest or limited capacities and to those who place particular emphasis on moral cultivation. It helps preserve both body and mind. Since these principles are an innate mystery within each person and do not involve taking from the transformations of Heaven and Earth, they carry comparatively little danger. Even so, they should not be taught indiscriminately to people who are unsuitable. Most people who study the Dao have average or limited abilities; those of superior wisdom are rare. Thus the patriarchs used the Way of nature to guide people of average ability, and the principles of life—the methods for cultivating life and the physical form—to guide those of superior wisdom. They established different teachings for different people.

Some teachers understand only the principles of nature and not the principles of life. Some students of the Dao learn only the principles of nature and remain unfamiliar with the principles of life. So these cases cannot all be treated as though they were the same.

Someone asked, “The Great Way of the Golden Elixir—the highest method of Daoist internal alchemy—is said to be transmitted only once in ten thousand kalpas. Does that mean it is close to being lost from the human world?” The reply was: “The saying ‘transmitted once in ten thousand kalpas’ means that this Daoist method is so precious that it must not be passed on lightly. After completing their cultivation, those who have not yet found a suitable successor often remain hidden in the human world for hundreds of years, until they find the right person; only then do they depart. The Patriarch Zhengyang transmitted it to the Patriarch Chunyang, who in turn transmitted it to Haichan and Chongyang. In each case, hundreds of years passed before a suitable successor appeared. The caution of the ancients shows that the Daoist method truly must not be transmitted indiscriminately. The Patriarch Ziyang once transmitted the method three times to unsuitable people and was punished by Heaven on each occasion. This, too, proves that the method must not be passed on recklessly.”

[Supplementary evidence] After the patriarchs Zhong and Lü completed the Way of nature and life, they had not yet found successors, so they remained in the world in their physical forms, retaining their bodies and continuing to live among people. Our tradition knows why they stayed in the world. The Chan school, not understanding this, mocked them as “corpse-loving ghosts.” This shows that what a noble person does is often misunderstood by the crowd. This passage may be added after “A Discussion of Retaining the Physical Form.”

Someone asked, “Is the Great Way of the Golden Elixir—the Daoist path of Neidan cultivation—passed only to people of the highest capacity? Are those of middling or lesser capacity bound to miss out?”

The reply was, “Some of them can attain it too. What matters is how they learn. If they keep their feet on the ground and treat cultivating the Dao as a great matter in life, advancing step by step from low to high and from shallow to deep, and growing more steadfast the longer they study, then they will eventually reap the rewards of enduring hardship. When a Perfected One—a person who has attained the Dao—meets someone like this, he will surely be glad to guide him. But if one’s innate capacity and foundation in cultivation are shallow, and one has no far-reaching aspiration, how could one hope to hear of the Great Way of the Golden Elixir?”

Someone asked, “Is there a method for learning the Dao?”

The reply was, “Whether cultivation succeeds depends entirely on how high or low one’s learning reaches. Whatever one fails to learn will leave one confused; whatever one fails to understand will become another difficulty. One must rely on an enlightened teacher’s instruction, but one must also grasp it for oneself.

“Before hearing of the Great Way, one should already be like someone truly devoted to cultivating for the great matter of nature and life. Such a person is not ensnared by wine, sex, wealth, or anger, and lets go of attachments such as greed, rage, delusion, and infatuation. The Dao is the only thing in the heart; one makes no other plans. One should sincerely draw near to those who possess the Dao, without the least deception, as if revering the deities of Heaven and Earth. One should also resolve to endure hardship, cultivate De, and diligently accumulate good deeds. Never stop before truly understanding the principles; even if understanding never comes in one’s lifetime, have no regrets. With such resolve, sages and worthy ones, along with the deities of Heaven and Earth, will guide one unseen, and a true teacher will be glad to offer instruction.

“People today are not sincere in learning the Dao. Even when they meet someone who understands its principles, they refuse to humble themselves. Even if they do bow their heads, after two or three days they are already demanding the Great Way. At the slightest disappointment, they decide they have no affinity with the Dao and leave at once. They do not build De or do good deeds in their daily lives; they care only about food and clothing and quarrel over worldly affairs. They compete to outdo others and are full of greed, rage, delusion, and infatuation. If they happen to learn a few minor arts from an unorthodox path, they treasure them and think they are satisfied. Even with an accomplished person before them, they assume they already understand the Dao and refuse to ask questions or correct themselves. If they deceive their own hearts in this way, how can they hope to attain the true Great Way?”

A person of genuine cultivation stands apart from ordinary people from the moment they begin cultivating the Dao: they have both ambition and a willingness to learn; they are grounded and sincere, yet intelligent and perceptive. They do not want to waste time or delay their own progress. So before the Great Dao has been made clear, even if they think they already understand its principles, they will not refuse to ask others for guidance and correct themselves. If they deceive their own hearts in this way, how can they expect to attain the true Dao?

After the Great Dao has been revealed and they have awakened to their mind and seen their nature—realizing their original nature—people of genuine cultivation know that deeper stages of practice remain. They continue seeking out enlightened teachers, and eventually receive instruction from Xinglin, a transmitter of Daoist alchemical methods, thereby attaining the Great Dao. Lü Dongbin, also known as Patriarch Lü, failed three times to refine the elixir. Later, after obtaining The Mirror for Compounding the Medicine, written by Master Cui, he succeeded in refining the Great Elixir. Both men were humble enough to seek instruction, and so they gained something from it.

Later seekers of the Dao, however, are often arrogant and conceited. They imagine they have already reached the realm of the sages, refuse to cultivate nature and life—the Daoist cultivation of body, mind, and life—and care only for an empty show, yet still presume they can become immortals. This does not bring blessings; it diminishes them. How foolish!

The annotator’s note: The reply says that Lü Zu (Lü Dongbin) only succeeded in refining the Returned Elixir—the elixir produced through Neidan cultivation—after receiving the essential formula in Cui Gong’s Mirror of Entering the Medicine. This principle is subtle and profound: it can be explained only to those who understand, and is difficult to make clear to ordinary people. If one reads it as a gong’an—a meditation topic for cultivation—without grasping its key, then even a thorough reading of the scriptures may lead one astray, or even into danger. And even if one knows the key, failing to understand what is real and what is illusory within it, or becoming self-satisfied and arrogant, can still cause one to miss the essential point and let the opportunity pass. The problem lies in refusing to cultivate nature and life in earnest—the foundations of body, mind, and life in Daoist thought—and taking pleasure only in playing with abstruse ideas.

The “empty head” refers to the “One” that appears within the Limitless in my Dao-body, the spiritual body formed through cultivation. It is also one of the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—and one of the Eight Lords, a term in Daoist internal alchemy. It hangs at the summit of Mount Sumeru, which symbolizes a high point or crucial part of cultivation. People know to take what lies below the summit and use it as medicine, place it behind the mirror, and then refine it back to the front of the mirror. In this way, one neither becomes attached nor falls into emptiness. To swallow it is called “attainment,” and also “completion.” This is the gong’an of Lü Zu cultivating Cui Gong’s Mirror of Entering the Medicine and thereby refining the inner elixir.

I recall that my honored teacher, Taixu Weng, once proposed an interpretation, saying that the passage held this kind of mysterious meaning. He also spoke of another hidden meaning: once the Mysterious Pass—the crucial point where the Qi of body and mind gathers and manifests in Neidan cultivation—opens, worldly wealth and possessions become scarce. If one obtains this treasure but has nothing to match it, one may still face the danger of “sinking into water and entering fire.” For this reason, I have added these words after the reply above, to show that Master Wuyuan’s answer was not without the oral transmission of a teacher.

The reply that follows probably leaves the matter unstated because the speaker dared not reveal it openly.

Question: “Lü Zu failed to complete the Returned Elixir three times. Does this mean the formula he received was not genuine?”

Answer: “Lü Zu received his Dao teachings from the Perfected Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan); they were unquestionably genuine. If they had not been a true transmission, how could he have refined the elixir? It was only that, although he refined it successfully, he later lost it.”

In cultivating the Golden Elixir, the central achievement of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), one must know how to distinguish the right moment for gathering the ingredients, master the proper measure of heat in refining them, discern good fortune from misfortune when forming the Elixir, know when to restrain and when to replenish during its nurturing, and grasp the right time for releasing it. One must also distinguish genuine ingredients from false ones, know how much to use, and understand whether the method should proceed in accordance with the natural course or against it. Every one of these matters is difficult; even the slightest deviation can lead to a vastly different result.

Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) failed to refine the Elixir three times. He must have overlooked some subtle point in controlling the heat. Thus, the opportunity stood before him, yet he missed it; what he gained, he then lost. So, in learning the Dao, even the smallest mistake can lead to a vastly different result.

Patriarch Lü’s three failed attempts at refining the Elixir must have stemmed from an oversight in some subtle detail of controlling the heat: the opportunity was right before him, yet he missed it, gaining something only to lose it again. Therefore, anyone learning the Dao must understand the process thoroughly from beginning to end and grasp its subtle and wondrous details without the slightest doubt before beginning to practice. Then, when standing before the furnace—a metaphor for Neidan cultivation—there will be no mistake.

Further reflections: In my view, Patriarch Lü was a sage who should have understood the subtle and wondrous principles discussed above. How, then, could he have overlooked something in controlling the heat? Perhaps the method he had received earlier lacked the essential instruction for introducing the ingredients described in Master Cui’s Mirror for Entering the Medicine (Ruyao Jing), a Daoist Neidan text. If one can grasp the principles through this text, innate Qi will gather within, and acquired Qi will transform in turn. Otherwise, it is merely empty talk about abstract principles. Without true Yin Qi to bring things into harmony, true Water and true Fire cannot unite, and the substances of cultivation cannot be transformed. How, then, could they be gathered and preserved for one’s own use? This was Patriarch Lü’s mistake. Once one obtains this book, one need only grasp its meaning from its title and use it in cultivation to form the Elixir.

Patriarch Lü originally began with quietude and stillness in cultivation. After obtaining Master Cui’s Mirror for Entering the Medicine, he used the method of “playing with emptiness” to bring the realm of emptiness to completion, while still adhering to the principle of quietude and stillness. Is it mysterious? Indeed, it is! The title of the book carries such profound meaning. Master Wuyuan understood this, yet did not dare explain it in detail to his students. He answered only here, using the four words “without the slightest doubt” to awaken those with the affinity to seek and learn. In this way, the Great Dao has been disclosed all too readily.

Someone asked, “If we understand the whole course of Daoist cultivation and practice according to the methods, can we attain the Dao?”

The answer was: “A master craftsperson can teach others the rules and methods, but cannot make them skilled in the craft. What a teacher transmits is simply how to identify the true ingredients, regulate the firing process, and grasp the crucial points of cultivation. Whether someone applies these teachings skillfully, makes rapid or slow progress, and sees results early or late depends on the learner’s abilities, strength of will, and natural aptitude. Thus, cultivation of the Great Dao has three methods: upper, middle, and lower. One should choose according to one’s own capacities.

“Someone asked, ‘What are the three methods?’

“The answer was: ‘The upper method is called the Method of Natural Ease, the middle method the Method of Adaptation and Measure, and the lower method the Method of Striving and Refinement.

“‘The Method of Natural Ease means sudden realization and complete understanding: once you grasp it, everything becomes clear. It describes a state of mind that is pure, composed, whole, and bright. Whether walking, standing, sitting upright, or lying down, you never depart from this state. The mind is like a clear mirror or still water, reflecting all things, with nothing concealed. You handle affairs calmly and in accordance with the Middle Way, putting it into practice with ease. This is a state in which Heaven and humanity respond to one another and act together.

“‘The Method of Adaptation and Measure means returning from the acquired state to the primordial state, and reversing the course while following the ordinary way. It uses truth to transform what is false, and relies on what is false to preserve what is true. In cultivation, you adapt to circumstances, choose suitable methods for each situation, and act when conditions are favorable. This is a method in which inner cultivation and outer conditions work together.’”

Those who practice the lower method are often slow-witted and have limited understanding. They must therefore work on their minds and thoroughly set aside worldly affairs. They should temper their resolve, toil with their bodies, endure hunger, and undergo repeated trials. Once they have recognized the good Way, they must follow it steadfastly, bearing suffering others cannot bear and hardship others cannot endure. Where others do something once, they should do it a hundred times; where others do it ten times, they should do it a thousand times. Whatever difficulties and hardships they encounter, they must devote themselves to practice with all their strength, until their original face—the practitioner’s inherent nature—suddenly becomes manifest. From then on, they should continue their work steadily. In the end, they too can follow the same path as those who practice the middle and upper methods. This is a way of achieving through effort and determined practice, beginning with oneself.

These three methods are all secrets passed down orally from ancient perfected immortals. They teach people to choose a practice according to their abilities: if they cannot manage the upper method, they should practice the middle method; if they cannot manage the middle method, they should practice the lower method. In the end, all aim at awakening to one’s nature and preserving life. Beyond these three methods, there is no other way.

[Commentary] The note says: Even if the Supreme Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun), one of the highest deities revered in Daoism, were to return to the world, he would not change this answer. All three methods begin with refining the mind, while also including practices for nourishing life. This answer has already stated the essential points in full. The master’s contribution is truly great! Once the study of nature and life has reached this point, the work of cultivating life will necessarily attain at least the middle level, and perhaps the highest. Read Cui Gong’s Entering the Medicine Mirror (a Daoist classic on Neidan practice) as a further guide, and you are sure to make progress in alchemical practice—especially if you practice the middle or upper method. People like us are suited only to begin with the lower method. Ah, those who study the Dao should understand this: even a person of such exceptional capacities as Patriarch Qiu (Qiu Chuji, an important Quanzhen ancestor) began with the lower method. How much more so for those whose capacities fall far short of his!

I once heard my late master, the elder Taixu Weng (whose Daoist name was Taixu), say that Patriarch Qiu (Qiu Chuji) was the Star Lord Taiyi incarnate, yet still endured seventy-two great calamities, besides countless lesser trials. Falling to his death, freezing, or starving to death did not even count among the lesser trials. He bore these hardships calmly, and in the end was chosen by the Golden Palace, ascended to Heaven, and received a title there, becoming a revered master for all generations. The Five Patriarchs were all posthumously honored as Sovereign Lords, and even Patriarch Liu received an imperial title. Who are we to dare call the comparatively mild trials of the Daoist path hardships?

My late master also said that when Patriarch Qiu had completed his cultivation and was summoned to Heaven, he was so grief-stricken that he could not rise to his feet. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) petitioned the Jade Emperor, saying, “Qiu believes himself to be the Star Lord Taiyi incarnate, yet he endured so much torment. The people of this world have meager natural gifts; if they cannot withstand the trials, the Dao lineage will be difficult to pass on. That is why he grieves.” The Jade Emperor comforted him with a sigh: “If people in this world had even a third of your gifts, they could attain the same fruits of the Dao as you.” On hearing this, the Celestial Immortals in the upper realms all bowed, touching their foreheads to the ground. Patriarch Qiu then gave thanks and withdrew.

This account appears in the Daozang (the comprehensive collection of Daoist scriptures), a great blessing for later students. But it must not be used to console ourselves or ease the demands we place on our cultivation.

My late master spoke of this and still refused to use the story to comfort himself. This shows how deeply he wished to admonish later students. I have therefore recorded these words as a reminder to myself.

Someone asked, “I have heard that immortals are divided into five ranks. Do they all cultivate the same Dao?” The answer was: “They do not. The way of the Celestial Immortal lies in cultivating the Nine Returns and Seven Reversals and the Great Elixir of Golden Liquid, and in the dual cultivation of nature and life, until the body is firm and indestructible and one can manifest countless forms, appearing and disappearing in ways impossible to fathom. This Dao method is transmitted only once in countless kalpas.

“By means of postnatal cultivation, one returns to the prenatal state, causing all things to return to their origin, go back to their root, and restore their life. One then gathers spirit and primordial Qi, preserves the body, and dwells in the world for a long time without dying. This is the way of the Earthly Immortal.

“By receiving the Three Jia talismans and registers—Daoist Fulu used for ordination and protection—and cultivating the wondrous methods of the Three Caverns of Shangqing, one can ride clouds and travel through mist, evade the Three Calamities and Eight Hardships, and come and go freely. This is the way of the Ranked Immortals, also called the Southern Palace method for protecting the body.

“By cultivating the nature of true emptiness, one can discern the past and foresee the future, manifest through the yin spirit, and depart through corpse liberation—a Daoist means of shedding the physical form to become immortal—without falling into an evil destiny. This is the way of the Ghost Immortal, a method of preserving the body through the Dao.

“By subduing body and mind and nourishing Jing and Qi, one can dwell in the world for a long time without suffering. This is the way of entering the ranks of the immortals, a method of cultivating the postnatal foundation.

“Of these five ranks of immortals, only the Earthly Immortal can advance into the ranks of the Celestial Immortals by further cultivating the Dao of Wuwei (non-action). The other kinds each face their own trials, and anyone seeking to attain the Celestial Immortal will encounter many layers of obstruction. Without the Golden Elixir method to illuminate and transform them, success is exceedingly difficult.”

According to what our late master, the Venerable Taixu, taught, if a cultivator obtains as the sacred embryo—the inner foundation formed through cultivation—substance born from the union of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), this is called becoming a Celestial Immortal. If the sacred embryo is substance generated naturally by Heaven and Earth, this is called becoming an Earth Immortal. If it is founded on the original source of true Yin and true Yang within the void, this is called becoming a Spirit Immortal. If it is substance generated within the void through the union of the Dragon and Tiger, this is called becoming a Human Immortal. If one also knows how to draw in the “One” of Taiji and use it to transform this substance, one is called a Water Immortal. Water Immortals undergo transformations beyond measure. Their level is slightly below that of Celestial Immortals, and their achievement amounts to more than simply preserving their own bodies from decay.

Question: Becoming a sage, an immortal, or a Buddha is all called attaining the Dao. Why, then, is it also called the Golden Elixir? And why is it called the “Golden Elixir of Ninefold Return and Sevenfold Reversal, Refined from Liquid Gold,” rather than simply the Dao?

Answer: The Dao is primordial Qi, an undivided unity that existed before Heaven and Earth—in other words, Taiji. The elixir is complete and flawless, lively and vibrant; it serves as a symbol of Taiji. The elixir is the Dao, and the Dao is the elixir: the names differ, but the principle is the same.

Gold, as a substance, has never been destroyed, from ancient times to the present, and can endure as long as Heaven and Earth. Its name is used for its quality of being firm and imperishable. “Nine” is the completed number of Metal; “seven” is the completed number of Fire. Both belong to Yang. “Returning” means going back to a state of pure Yang, without Yin.

The Dao is originally Wuwei (non-action), but the methods of cultivation involve action. Because the Dao itself is Wuwei, the transformations of Yin-Yang inevitably entail some loss. The sages use methods of cultivation, refining with Metal and Fire, both to restore what has been diminished and make it whole, and to preserve what is already whole so that it remains undiminished. One returns to Taiji, then to Wuji, ultimately reaching a silent, scentless, still, and profound state. Heaven and Earth will eventually be destroyed, but this state will not; hence it is called the “Golden Elixir of Ninefold Return and Sevenfold Reversal, Refined from Liquid Gold.” It is called an “elixir” because it has undergone tempering in the fire.

Someone asked, “Is it easier to cultivate the Great Elixir, the highest attainment of Neidan practice, amid the bustle of activity or in quiet?”

The reply was, “Some things deteriorate, but this alone does not. That is why it is called the ‘Great Returning Elixir of Nine Cycles and Seven Reversals, the Golden Liquid.’ It is called an ‘Elixir’ because it is formed through a process like the tempering of fire.”

Someone else asked, “Is it easier to cultivate the Great Elixir amid the bustle of activity or in quiet?”

The reply was, “The Dao runs through waking and sleeping, and extends through darkness and light; it is not confined by movement or stillness. Those who have truly succeeded in cultivation deal with things with lively flexibility: outwardly they are accommodating, inwardly they uphold what is right. Why should they be unable to live among the people or serve at court?”

Someone asked, “Living among the people and serving at court inevitably bring social obligations and entanglements in worldly affairs. How can one devote oneself to cultivating the Dao?”

The reply was, “Living among the people and serving at court are precisely where a cultivator can exercise great influence and reveal the crucial workings of the Dao. This is the highest method of cultivation. The Golden Elixir is already present among people, and must be sought in the human world. The ancients chose great cities with thriving trade and relied on powerful people to accomplish their aims. This is exactly what they meant.”

Someone else asked, “If the Dao is in the empty expanse, yet also among people and in the markets and courts, why is that?”

The reply was, “Precisely because the Dao has no form or trace, ordinary people live by it every day without realizing it. If one can recognize it, then walking, standing, sitting, and lying down are all the Dao. Life among people is exactly where cultivation is suited to take place, and the markets and courts are where it is best put into practice. Does the Dao mean only living in a secluded, quiet place and believing that all things are empty?”

A commentary on this says: “Great cultivators live among the people and serve at court, where they quietly carry out their own great work. Yet living among the people chiefly calls for accumulating De, while serving at court chiefly calls for putting it into practice. De that is not acted upon cannot fulfill its nature as De; only when De is both present and put into practice can the Dao be realized. Wu Yuanzi’s words carry another function of the Dao, which may differ from what I heard before.”

What is meant by “De” is the highest virtue; what is meant by “conduct” is boundless good action. These things require neither a penny nor any exertion: they can be practiced while standing. Even when mingling with a crowd or serving others, one appears no different from ordinary people, so others have no reason to speculate or comment. A person may spend all day in a busy marketplace, yet the mind remains untouched by worldly distractions, as though dwelling in a state of emptiness and stillness. One may be in the court without being confined by it, with a heart that seems to embrace heaven, earth, and the four directions. Sometimes virtue and good action are cultivated together, and one’s aims are fulfilled along with them. Sometimes one devotes oneself first to cultivating virtue, then, when virtue is sufficient, turns to good action. At other times, one focuses first on good action and, once one’s deeds are complete, fulfills one’s aims.

The subtle methods practiced by virtuous people of antiquity draw on the Sanni Yishi (a text devoted to the salvation of the world by three sages), and take the Yellow Emperor’s Yinfujing (a classic on the Dao of Heaven and the workings of change) and Emperor Wenchang’s Yinzhu Wen (a text urging people to accumulate good deeds and cultivate virtue) as foundations for spiritual cultivation. The essential instructions for entering the practice come from the Qingjing Miaojing. Others may not understand these principles; practitioners need only put their whole heart into carrying them out. This is what I heard from the Perfected One of Chicken Foot Mountain, who said it was the customary path of practice transmitted through generations in the Vinaya School.

Someone asked, “Walking, standing, sitting, and lying down are all opportunities to cultivate the Dao. Why, then, is there a special practice for refining sleep?” The answer was: “Refining sleep is a practice for beginners. When ordinary people sleep, their spirit sinks into a state of dullness, and their Qi disperses into the limbs. In dreams, they become confused and disoriented, as though caught in nets, plunged into boiling oil, or fallen into traps; they may undergo every kind of suffering. The energy accumulated during the day cannot make up for what is dissipated at night. Therefore, one must train oneself to subdue the sleep demon, so that the mind and spirit settle within the body, clear Qi rises and turbid Qi descends. In this way, one encounters fewer obstacles and can continue cultivating the Dao.”

Ancient immortals said, “To sleep for one watch is like dying for one watch; to sleep for a day is like dying for a day. If you practice diligently every day and can go a thousand days without sleep, your cultivation will be complete.” They also said, “After a year without sleep, the Lower Elixir forms; after two years, the Middle Elixir forms; after three years, the Upper Elixir forms.” These sayings have a real meaning. However, when cultivation reaches a state in which light arises from emptiness and stillness, and awareness remains clear, it is also fine to sleep: even while the body sleeps, inwardly one is like someone awake. The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three, an important Daoist alchemical classic) says, “During sleep, spirit and Qi embrace one another; on waking, observe the advances and regressions, continuance and disappearance of cultivation.” This shows that sleep itself does not hinder cultivation. But before reaching this state, one should not indulge in sleep. Among earlier practitioners, Zhang Weng of Guoqing in Shu and Zhang Weng, the Sleeping Immortal of Huangzhong, first practiced reducing their sleep and only later slept for long periods. They are examples of “refining sleep.”

Someone asked, “Are the Upper, Middle, and Lower Elixirs three different elixirs?” The answer was: “There is originally only one Elixir; the names vary according to the stages of cultivation. The Lower Elixir is refining Jing into Qi, the Middle Elixir is refining Qi into Shen, and the Upper Elixir is refining Shen and returning to emptiness. The three names describe different stages. When cultivation reaches the state of returning to emptiness, Jing, Qi, and Shen merge into one Qi; this is called the Great Return Golden Elixir of Golden Fluid. The ‘three fields’ (the upper, middle, and lower Dantian) and the ‘three passes’ (the three barriers in the process of cultivation) mentioned in the scriptures mean this.”

For reference: The method of alchemical cultivation is not to refine Jing today, Qi tomorrow, and Shen the day after. Rather, all three forms of cultivation are present together in each moment. A book on alchemy may be divided into many stages from beginning to end, but that does not mean practicing the first stage today and the second tomorrow. Every stage must be integrated into cultivation, with none omitted. Only then can one avoid overemphasizing a single aspect. However, those whose inner gates have not yet opened cannot do this.

The so-called inner gates include the “three gates before” and the “three gates after.” Opening the gates means regulating the movement of the Conception Vessel and Governing Vessel: the three gates before are used to regulate the Conception Vessel, and the three gates after to regulate the Governing Vessel. Only once the Conception Vessel is open can one go on to regulate the Governing Vessel. That is the theory, but in actual practice the process is not carried out mechanically in separate steps; instead, regulation takes place with each inhalation and exhalation.

As you inhale, direct your attention from the Yin Heel point at the sea bottom, a point near the perineum, upward in reverse, passing through the tailbone and spine, over the back of the head, and reaching the crown. Then enter the Celestial Valley, inside the brain, also called the Upper Dantian. The crown is called Kunlun. Next, the Qi descends from inside the brain, passes through the nose to the upper lip, and joins the Conception Vessel, gathering at the Flower Pool, where saliva collects beneath the tongue. This is the method for regulating the Governing Vessel.

As you exhale, direct your attention from the Flower Pool downward along the “nine-storied tower,” or throat, through the chest to the Central Yellow, the Middle Dantian. Continue down through the abdomen and rest at the Sea of Qi, the Lower Dantian, deep behind the navel; finally, reach the Yin Heel point. This point lies in front of the anus and behind the scrotum, where the Conception Vessel and Governing Vessel meet. This is the method for circulating the Conception Vessel.

All of the above are methods of cultivation in which attention guides the breath and visualization accords with the Dao. They are also the methods beginners use to open the gates. Lü Zu said: “When the three threes are opened, half the work is done; when the spirit has opened them, the gentle wind of Xun is at ease.” Here, “the wind of Xun” refers to breathing through the nose. When the mind becomes utterly still and the breath grows so subtle that it seems to stop, embryonic breathing takes shape—the state in which breathing is extremely fine. Reaching embryonic breathing is a wondrous effect that arises naturally after the “three threes” have opened; it is not a separate, special method of practice.

When beginners start practicing the opening of the passes—clearing the body’s channels and apertures—they can begin by following the inhalation and exhalation, using intention to guide the breath. Once the passes are clear, the breath becomes so faint that it seems to stop. This state, achieved through guiding practice, is called fetal breathing. Fetal breathing arises after the three stages of opening the passes; it is not some separate, extraordinary spiritual power.

When beginners first open the passes, they can begin by coordinating the breath and guiding it with intention. Once the passes are clear and the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (the three areas cultivated within the body) are no longer neglected, they should continue their practice until they reach a state of utmost emptiness and stillness. Fetal breathing then disappears, giving way to true breathing. “Breathing” here means cessation. When practice reaches true breathing, the breath also ceases, and the hundred channels throughout the body seem to stop moving. The five viscera and six bowels become calm and at ease. It is at this stage that a trace of primordial Qi is gathered and obtained.

Practitioners should understand that “stopping” and “cessation” describe a state so subtle that one cannot perceive when it begins or ends. In fact, this Qi continues to circulate throughout the body, completing its full course without interruption. The great function of seizing the workings of creation, as described in the alchemical texts, is contained in this moment. Do not take it lightly. If you practice every day, year after year without interruption, you are certain to attain the status of a Celestial Immortal—so much more so, then, the lower stages. The key lies in “two transformations,” “one return,” and “two unions.” Cultivation proceeds through repeated, step-by-step returns. Progress may not be obvious in the short term, but sustained practice will bear fruit. The Book of Changes says, “Returning is not far off,” meaning that one can return to the right path before straying far. It also says, “If one does not maintain one’s Virtue, one may suffer disgrace,” meaning that failure to uphold steadfast Virtue may bring shame. Cultivation must be adaptable and sustained; the key lies with the practitioner. Students should keep this firmly in mind.

Someone asked, “Do essence, Qi, and spirit belong to the postnatal or the prenatal?” The reply was: “They belong to the prenatal. The Scripture of the Mind Seal says, ‘The three grades of superior medicine are spirit, Qi, and essence; indistinct and elusive, remote and obscure; unseen and unheard; hold to existence within nonexistence, and in an instant the work is accomplished.’ How could these be regarded as postnatal, tangible things?”

Therefore, those who truly attain success in cultivation refine and nourish innate Primordial Jing (the essence and Qi originally present from before birth), so the Jing produced through sexual union naturally ceases to leak away. By refining and nourishing innate Primordial Qi, the breath naturally becomes harmonious. By refining and nourishing innate Shen, the spirit troubled by scattered thoughts naturally grows still. Once the innate elements have been cultivated to completion, postnatal Jing, Qi, and Shen are transformed along with them. Practitioners must work diligently at cultivation to attain proof; otherwise, they will struggle to preserve even postnatal Jing, Qi, and Shen, let alone the innate elements.

A commentary says: “The Master’s answer here is such that even if the sages returned to life, they would not change a word of it. Once the innate is cultivated to completion, the postnatal is transformed along with it. Practitioners must work diligently at cultivation to attain proof; otherwise, they will struggle to preserve even the postnatal, let alone the innate. This is to preserve what exists from within nonexistence, and is the essential method of restorative cultivation. That is why it is said that ‘nonexistence’ is the root of all things.” An editorial note observes that this wording seems to change the scripture’s character cun, “preserve,” to cong, “follow.” “Preserve” means to maintain something naturally, while “follow” implies deliberate effort. Beginners must first pass through the stage of “following” before they can “preserve” things naturally. There is therefore no need to change the wording back to the scripture’s cun, “preserve.” The Master changed it deliberately; it was not a mistake.

Someone asked, “If you say that attainment can come in an instant, why also speak of refining Jing into Qi, refining Qi into Shen, and refining Shen to return to emptiness?” The reply was: “Attainment in an instant refers to the result when the elixir ingredient is obtained. Refining Jing, Qi, and Shen refers to the gradual work of cultivation and the subtle art of controlling the firing times.”

Someone asked, “The three grades of great medicine all belong to the innate. Is the Golden Elixir formed by refining these three medicines?” The reply was: “Although the three medicines belong to the innate, they are formless and without shape, and still belong to the Yin category. They cannot form the sacred embryo. Only when they receive the transforming power of the true primordial One Qi of innate emptiness—the single Qi at the source of the innate—can the formless give rise to form and the insubstantial give rise to substance. The three medicines are thereby transformed into pure Yang.”

Someone else asked, “If the formless can give rise to form and the insubstantial can give rise to substance, does the sacred embryo then have form and appearance?” The reply was: “It is transformed…”

Someone asked, “Can something without form give rise to form, and something without substance produce substance? If so, does the sacred embryo also have an appearance?”

The reply was, “This is a Dharma image, an appearance revealed through the stages of cultivation, not a material image—the bodily form of flesh and matter. Though the Dharma image appears as an image, it is not a substantial form in the ordinary sense. It is primordial Qi congealed out of nothingness, and is also called the Yang Spirit. When gathered, the Yang Spirit can manifest a body; when dispersed, it becomes Qi again. It does not drown in water or burn in fire. Tigers and rhinoceroses cannot harm it, nor can blades. It moves in and out without obstruction. This is different from the fleshly body, whose form is easily exposed to harm.”

Someone asked, “What is the departure of the Yin Spirit?”

The reply was, “This is the Jade Fluid Return to the Elixir, a stage of internal alchemy. Once you have awakened to the nature of true suchness—the unchanging reality of things—and your mind is focused and undistracted, your spirit gathers. After long cultivation, when stillness reaches its utmost, the Yin Spirit can travel beyond the body. In an instant it can reach a thousand miles away and discern the past and future. But this is still only the realm of a ghost immortal: the spirit has neither shadow nor form. To attain a body with form, one must still transform one’s appearance and, in a future life, seek out an accomplished master. Only then may one cultivate the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir. Thus, after completing the Jade Fluid Return to the Elixir, great practitioners must go on to cultivate the Great Elixir of Golden Fluid, a more advanced Neidan practice, until they return to pure Yang, without any Yin energy. Only then is the work complete.”

My former master, Elder Taixu, once said, “Those who have cultivated themselves into ghost immortals but have not yet left the fleshly body behind, and who know there is a supreme Mahayana realm and wish to advance to the Great Elixir of Golden Fluid, have a shortcut available. They need only let body and mind become empty, still, and tranquil; cease noticing the breath; close off the information received through the ears and eyes; and cut off thought. With focused sincerity, they should welcome the True Unity of the Limitless—the pure, undivided Qi within the Limitless—as an infant does before it understands the world. Then the Great Elixir of Golden Fluid will naturally be completed quickly. At that point, as though waking from a dream, they will kindle the natural true fire. In refining and nourishing it, they must neither rush nor slacken, but continue to transform and nurture it. When Yin energy has become pure Yang, they can begin to study the way of the celestial immortal.”

In cultivation, one must first refrain from asking about being and nonbeing, birth and extinction. When startled, do not be shaken; when joyful, do not become attached. Apart from maintaining a clear and tranquil state, regard everything seen before you as a dream, an illusion, a bubble, or a shadow. Only then can the “True One”—the original, pure Qi—remain constant, and through it the acquired body can be transformed. “Reliance” means depending upon something: here, it is the True One bestowed by Wuji, the formless and imageless origin. This bestowed True One is the foundation of “Golden Liquid,” a Neidan term for the essence gained through cultivation and refinement. It can transform the body and bring it to fullness. “Bodily Yin” means the Yin aspect within oneself; it is one of the Three Treasures within the self. Within the body it is called “precelestial,” and within Wuji it is called “postcelestial,” yet it remains Yin in nature and can be transformed only by relying on the True One.

At this stage of cultivation, consciousness and sensory awareness in the body will surely seem to weaken. Do not become lax on that account. At first, you may feel as though you cannot hold yourself up; gradually, your strength will return, and then you will enter a state of ease and stability. Your limbs will grow stronger, your complexion will become bright, and your eyes will be alert. Once this has been achieved, use the “Heavenly Dipper,” a Daoist term associated with stellar configurations and internal cultivation, to receive Qi. Turn inward to observe the True One within yourself, and it will grow day by day. As long as you continue cultivating without interruption, you will not only restore your primordial Qi but also have ample worldly wealth. When the proper conditions mature, the “Great Reversion Elixir,” a major attainment in Neidan cultivation, will descend, and there will be no danger of sinking into water or plunging into fire.

It is also said: “If one cultivates only to become a ghost immortal, a kind of immortal still bound by physical form, and does not continue practicing higher methods, then when calamity arrives, one will no longer be master of one’s body. Without a mind that can let go and find repose, and without willingness to move on and transform into a new realm, how could this possibly be achieved?”

Among the writings left by my late master is the following passage. I have carefully appended it to this response to supplement what Wuyuanzi did not discuss, for students of the Dao to consult and reflect upon.

Someone asked, “Do the phenomena people speak of in this world—being reborn, taking over another person’s body, or moving into a former residence—belong to the Yin spirit (the spirit-consciousness that is Yin in nature and constrained by the body)?”

The reply was, “No. The Yin spirit aligned with True Suchness is the Original Spirit, the person’s fundamental spirit. It is called ‘Yin’ because it has not yet awakened to nature and life. As for being reborn or taking over another person’s body, these involve the deliberate use of the cognitive spirit—the acquired consciousness of discrimination and thought—to cling to the seeds of samsara. They have nothing to do with the Great Dao. Thus one passes from one body into another, caught in an endless cycle of life and death. The only difference between such people and ordinary people is that they cannot choose where to dwell and will not be reborn as another kind of creature. How could they possibly realize the mind and see their nature, or enter stillness and leave the body?”

Someone asked, “If a person realizes their nature but not their life, will they become deluded again after being reborn in a future life?”

The reply was, “Some will, and some will not. Those who do not become deluded understand the principles of nature from birth, and seek a method of cultivating the Great Elixir—the attainment of Neidan—to complete the Great Dao. Those who do become deluded forget the path they once traveled and need guidance from an enlightened master to understand the karmic connections of their previous life. For example, Luo the Realized One, the top-ranked candidate in the Ming dynasty imperial examinations, nearly forgot as well, had his father not reminded him. Although he had become deluded for a time, he still possessed roots from a former life—the foundation laid through cultivating the Dao in a previous existence. So a reminder was enough to awaken him. Without those roots, no reminder could have awakened him.

This is not limited to those who have realized their nature. People who aspire to the Dao may spend their whole lives studying it without meeting an enlightened master, then be reborn after death still carrying roots from a former life. From the outset of their new life, they know that this great matter is what life is about. They continue to investigate the Dao, try every possible means, and devote themselves wholeheartedly to its cultivation, without coveting wealth or status. Such people all have roots from a former life. Those without such roots, even if alone, poor, and beset by hardship, would rather die in misery than willingly enter this path.

Someone asked, “If those who cultivate nature wish to complete the Great Dao, they must return to the human world to cultivate again. Since those who cultivate life live as long as Heaven, surely they will never return to the human world?”

The reply was, “Some may still return.”

Someone asked, “Those who cultivate the mind and nature and seek to attain the Great Dao must eventually return to the human world. If those who cultivate nature and life can live as long as Heaven, does that mean they will certainly never return to the human world?”

The reply was, “Some may still return. The path of using techniques to prolong life is difficult to follow unless one is truly resolute, and difficult to practice unless one has exceptional natural gifts. Even if someone is capable of cultivation, they still need a legacy of accumulated virtue from their ancestors, outstanding merit from their own actions, and many favorable circumstances coming together. Only then can they proceed smoothly and complete this great undertaking.

“If their ancestors lacked virtue and their own foundations from past lives were shallow, then even if they press forward with courage, their allotted lifespan may run out before the work is complete, or obstacles may arise just as they are about to begin their efforts. Many people have methods of cultivation but lack the resources, or aspire to follow the Dao but lack the strength. In the end, they die carrying the Great Dao in their hearts. Though they have not attained the Dao, their passage through life and death is clear and distinct, very different from that of ordinary people.

“Some die after completing half their cultivation; others die before they have completed half. Those who die halfway through their cultivation are certain to be born with innate understanding in their next life. Those who die before reaching the halfway point are also certain to retain their longing for the Great Dao after rebirth. So students of the Dao should understand that they may have foundations from a past life and should not give up on themselves. If they lose their human form, regaining it will require passing through long and difficult kalpas.”

Someone else asked, “Can those born with innate understanding cultivate naturally, without seeking a teacher?”

The reply was, “Even people with natural talent and strong powers of understanding still have things they do not understand. Without guidance from an enlightened teacher, they too cannot attain the Dao. Once they receive such guidance, they can suddenly see things clearly and understand them completely. When they begin to practice in earnest, none will fail to attain the Dao.

“I once met two people born with innate understanding: one was Master Gu from Jiangsu, the other Master Wang from Longxi. Gu was captivated by officialdom; Wang was captivated by profit. Though they had insight, they did not regard the cultivation of nature and life as their highest priority. That was their failing.”

I once met two men of innate intelligence and keen understanding: one was Master Gu from Jiangsu, the other Master Wang from Longxi. Master Gu was captivated by the prospect of an official career, while Master Wang was entangled in the pursuit of profit. Though they were perceptive, they did not regard cultivating body and mind or cherishing the root of life as matters of importance, and so they remained lost. People like these two must surely have inherited too little De (Virtue/Power) from their ancestors and themselves lacked merit and good deeds. Their attachments and entanglements therefore continued without end, leaving them unable to escape worldly constraints. What might await them in a future life is even harder to foresee. How could one think of this without sorrow? Should those who later study the Dao (the Way) not begin accumulating De and doing good deeds as early as possible?

Someone asked, “Does this disciple, too, have foundations laid in a previous life?” The master replied, “If you had no foundation from a previous life, how could you have heard the name of the Great Dao, or heard it expounded?”