《修真辩难参证》Vol. 3

“Root” has no fixed, unchanging origin, and you yourself do not know what it is. I have a few words for you; once you hear them, you will naturally understand.” He then recited this verse: “In your previous life your surname was Yuan; in this life it is Lu. In your previous life your name was Chengde; in this life it is Wogu. This is the karmic connection between your previous life and this one. Look carefully into the path you have traveled. The words have been made clear; you should understand them soon.”

On hearing this, the disciple suddenly awakened. He knelt and offered this song: “Now I understand the previous life and this one: other people are me, and I am other people. Only by opening the primordial chaos and entering the spirit cavern did I see that there was originally a trace of true nature. This trace of true nature is like dew and lightning. It has neither beginning nor end, and no fixed form. It sustains Heaven and Earth, is beyond comprehension, and transforms amid deep obscurity and haze. Thankfully, my revered teacher secretly revealed it to me, and I came to recognize this ancient and genuine thing. My true face is right before me. Why establish practices elsewhere?”

As master and disciple spoke back and forth, dawn came unnoticed in the east, and the land grew bright. The disciples each went off to attend to their affairs. Wu Yuanzi, too, strolled alone to the Pavilion for Cleansing the Heart.

Supplement

Pre-Heaven Jing, Qi, and Shen

The Venerable Ziqing said: “The Jing spoken of here is not the Jing produced through sexual union between a man and a woman, but the saliva from the mouth of the Jade Emperor. The Qi spoken of here is not the breath, but the Qi of Great Simplicity. The Shen spoken of here is not the mind at work in thought, but the spirit that may be spoken of alongside the Primordial Beginning.” These are what are called Original Jing, Original Qi, and Original Shen. “Original” refers to what is fundamental and exists before birth. These things were already present before the human body took shape; later, what was formless became form, and what had no substance became substantial. They come from the time before one’s parents joined in union.

During sexual intercourse, before the father has ejaculated and before the mother’s body has been impregnated, something subtle and hard to perceive is already passing between them in the union of their feelings. It mingles into one and continues to gather. Then, when semen is released and the mother conceives, essence and blood blend together, enclosing this true root of life as it gradually develops into form. At this point, Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) are already contained within the body.

Though they are called “three,” they were originally one. “One” refers to Hundun, the undifferentiated source in which all things are whole and unseparated; “three” refers to the wondrous functions into which this source differentiates. “One” is the fundamental substance; “three” are its functions. The fundamental substance of Hundun is pure and undivided. Contained within the body, it manifests as the Qi in which Jing and the blood vessels are joined, and as Shen, the numinous, active spirit. The three unite as one, while the one also appears as three. The “three grades of superior medicine”—Jing, Qi, and Shen in cultivation—refer to their functions; their completeness and perfection refer to the fundamental substance. It cannot be described only as three, nor only as one.

Practitioners often fail to understand that the three are originally one and that the one can also divide into three. Some hold fast to primordial unity but become attached to emptiness; others cultivate the three grades of Jing, Qi, and Shen but become attached to outward forms. Attachment to emptiness or to appearances alike departs from the subtle principle of returning to the source.

“Returning to the Origin” means restoring primordial Jing, primordial Qi, and primordial Shen to their source. To cultivate the Dao, one must first understand that these three are latent within Hundun. Apart from Hundun, they are not the fundamental substance of innate Jing, Qi, and Shen; once separated from their fundamental substance, they are no longer primordial.

The Jing of the Heart Seal says: “The three grades of superior medicine are Shen, Qi, and Jing; indistinct and elusive, remote and obscure; unseen and unheard. Guard the presence within the absence, and in an instant it can be achieved.” The text following “it is called indistinct and elusive” is damaged, so it can only be understood from the words that remain.

The Scripture of the Heart Seal says: “The superior medicine is divided into three kinds: Shen, Qi, and Jing. They are indistinct and elusive, distant and obscure; they cannot be seen or heard. Preserve the vitality that has form by means of what is formless, and you will soon achieve results.” The terms “indistinct,” “obscure,” and “being and nonbeing” show that these three fundamental things have no concrete shape.

Original Jing, the subtle vitality inherent from before birth, is pure like a pearl or a dewdrop, unmixed with anything else, and nourishes the whole body. Original Qi, the vital energy inherent from before birth, is like mist, passing through the body’s meridians. Original Shen, the numinous and lucid spirit of mind inherent from before birth, is supremely potent and sacred, governing all activity. Recognizing and mastering these three fundamentals can prolong life. For those who study the Dao, discerning them offers hope of succeeding in cultivation.

A commentary explains that if those who study the Dao can recognize the Three Treasures within the Primal Undifferentiated State—the state in which Heaven and Earth have yet to divide and all is one—they will naturally be less likely to go astray. The scripture says these things nourish the body, showing plainly that although they are formless, they are not entirely void. Once you have recognized them and learned to preserve them, you will not cling to emptiness; once you have grasped the essential instruction to work “from nonbeing,” you will not cling to outward forms. The important teachings of the sages of old lie in understanding them with care. Simply hearing them without understanding can lead you astray. If, even after reading this, you still cling to forms or to emptiness, there is no way to persuade you.

Postnatal Jing, Qi, and Shen

Postnatal Jing is the essence produced through sexual union between man and woman; postnatal Qi is the breath; postnatal Shen is the mind and spirit involved in thought. These three have discernible forms and arise only after birth.

Through sexual union, the essences and blood of man and woman mingle and form an embryo. In the womb, the fetus has only Original Qi; it does not yet have breath. After ten months of pregnancy, when the fetus is fully developed and leaves the mother’s body, it cries out and draws in the tangible Qi between Heaven and Earth. This Qi enters the Dantian and combines with Original Qi. From then on, Qi passes in and out through the mouth and nose, connecting with the Qi of Heaven and Earth outside. This is where breath comes from.

At this same time, postnatal Shen—the consciousness formed after birth that distinguishes things and engages with activity—also arises. This awareness is the discriminating consciousness that undergoes the cycle of birth and death and is continually reborn. At birth, it arrives first; at death, it departs first. It is what acts when one is reborn as a human or an animal, does good or evil, and undergoes the passage from birth to death. It is inseparable from the departure from one body and entry into another, the move from an old dwelling to a new one.

When a baby emerges into the world and cries aloud, this is a sign that this awareness has entered the body. The scripture holds that if a newborn does not cry, it will not be able to speak, because its awareness has not entered the body. At birth, Shen and Qi work together to form the foundation of postnatal life, enabling this illusory body to grow.

As for sexual essence—the seminal fluid associated with sexual desire and reproduction—it develops later still. A person has no such essence in the womb, nor immediately after birth. At the age of two times eight (traditionally, about sixteen for a male), primordial Yang Qi becomes abundant and reaches fullness. After that, it turns from flourishing to decline: when Yang reaches its peak, Yin begins to arise; as Yin grows, Yang recedes. Once Yin takes the lead, the formless Yin gradually develops into tangible Yin matter.

The scripture then describes how seminal fluid forms. The kidney orifices—the reproductive passages governed by the kidneys—open, and the true Water is depleted, allowing desire-fire to arise unseen. Once stirred, this fire surges upward, burning through the whole body and exciting its blood vessels. The fluids of the five organs and six viscera also boil, rising and gathering at Baihui, the Hundred Meetings point at the crown of the head, where the meridians converge. Qi and blood then descend from Baihui, pass alongside the spine through Shenshu, the Kidney Shu point, and continue down to the Weilü, near the tailbone, finally reaching the reproductive organs and being discharged.

The scripture holds that this seminal fluid is not present from birth, nor was it already stored inside the body after birth; it is formed through changes in Qi and blood. The kidney orifices are merely the channels through which essence is discharged. Essence is not stored in the kidneys all along.

The “essence produced through sexual arousal” spoken of here is seminal fluid produced through sexual intercourse or the stirring of sexual desire. Without intercourse or arousal, this fluid does not arise. Nocturnal emissions also result from arousal. If an emission occurs occasionally without any obvious arousal, it is because the Kidney Qi is weak and the blood vessels cannot contain it, while pathogenic Fire drives the fluid outward. This is how essence produced through sexual arousal comes about.

When Yang reaches its peak, it turns and gives rise to Yin. Seminal fluid arises from this, as do thoughts and a quickening of the breath.

Those who study the Way should understand that these three things come into being only after birth; they are not things that were present before birth. Can one rely on things formed after birth to preserve life and prolong one’s years, or even to transcend the changes of Yin and Yang? Those who study the Way should consider this carefully.

A commentary for comparison says: The sages of antiquity carefully guarded these three things within the body, because by returning them to their source, one could bring the three back to unity and return what is post-heavenly to what is pre-heavenly. On examining the methods of cultivation, the key comes down to the two words “from nothing.”

The pre-heavenly True One Qi (the original Qi that is inherently present before birth, pure and undivided).

Yuan Duchong says, “The primordial Qi comes from within the void.” The Wuzhen Pian says, “The Dao gives rise to one Qi from within the void, and this Qi in turn gives rise to Yin-Yang.” Daoguang says, “There is something that existed before Heaven and Earth: nameless and formless, originally still and empty. It can govern the myriad things, yet does not wither as the seasons change.”

These statements all mean that primordial Qi is the fundamental Qi of life in the myriad things. It comes from the void and is the ruler of all things, the source of Heaven and Earth. It has no shape or appearance, no sound or smell; it cannot be seen, heard, or touched. Yet though formless, it can generate forms; though without appearance, it can generate the myriad appearances. If called spirit, it is the unseen “spirit”; if called Qi, it is the true and unitary Qi; if called essence, it is the true and unitary essence. It is also called the “true seed,” the “Golden Elixir,” or “the deathless formula of the other family.”

In cultivation texts, “primordial Qi,” “spirit,” and “essence” are technical terms for the primordial source regarded as the root of life. They do not mean the breath of everyday breathing, the spirit involved in thought, or the essence produced through sexual intercourse. Nor are they the same as the original essence, original Qi, and original spirit discussed in postcelestial cultivation.

Original essence, Original Qi, and Original Shen—the precelestial essence, Qi, and spirit spoken of in Daoism—manifest as Yang in the postcelestial state, but return to Yin in the precelestial state. They differ from the precelestial Qi of True Unity: this Qi of True Unity remains undamaged through countless kalpas, stands supreme beyond the myriad kinds of things, is not bound by life and death, and does not fall into the distinction between being and nonbeing. It is the root of postcelestial essence, Qi, and spirit, and the ruler of precelestial essence, Qi, and spirit. It is a thing of utmost Yang, a treasure of Heaven, known to very few.

This treasure is neither inside the body nor outside it. It does not belong to the five aggregates or eight consciousnesses of Buddhism, nor is it among the five viscera and six bowels, the six sense gates, or the bones and acupoints throughout the body. Rather, it lies at the “one aperture of the Mysterious Pass,” the crucial locus in Neidan cultivation that points toward the precelestial source. To seek it deliberately is to cling to form; to hold on to it deliberately is to fall into emptiness. It cannot be attained through thought or explained through words. It is present from the beginning, but only when Yang Qi stirs does it manifest in a Yin state. Once it disperses elsewhere, it no longer belongs to me.

Those who attain the Dao use methods of cultivation to draw it back. They transform solid form into the void and being into nonbeing, so that symbolic signs emerge from emptiness. Once they have gathered it, they refine it with the Yin Talisman and Yang Fire—the methods for balancing Yin and Yang and gently nurturing and refining in Neidan cultivation—forming an elixir the size of a millet grain. Swallowing it allows the precelestial treasure to transform postcelestial things: being arises from nonbeing, and Yin turns into Yang. The Three Corpses and Five Thieves—the bodily and mental distractions and desires said in Daoism to obstruct cultivation—disappear, and the eighty-four thousand hair spirits throughout the body, symbolic of its many spirits or life functions, all become protectors of the Dao. Thus it is said: “Swallow one Golden Elixir, and only then do you know that your destiny is not ordained by Heaven.”

Those who are deluded do not understand that this precelestial Qi of True Unity is the ancestral Qi from which all things arise.

Those who are confused do not understand the “primordial Qi of the true One” (the source Qi that existed before Heaven and Earth were divided). It is the ancestral Qi from which all things arise, the numinous root present when primordial chaos had not yet been differentiated and the undivided state was just beginning to separate. Some mistake original Qi for the primordial Qi of the true One; others take the breath of the Dantian to be this Qi. Some believe that keeping the body and mind centered and balanced means holding on to it; others think that observing emptiness and stilling thoughts means contemplating it. Still others refine minerals into elixirs or gather and refine so-called “red lead and plum blossoms,” treating these as ways to ingest the primordial Qi of the true One. How could any of these mistaken methods amount to a real understanding of it?

The primordial Qi of the true One is the ancestral Qi of primordial unity, from which Heaven, Earth, and all things are generated. It is vast without limit, yet so subtle that there is no distinction between inner and outer. Movement and stillness are one; Yin-Yang is blended into a single whole. In the precelestial state, it arises before Yin-Yang; in the postcelestial state, it is contained within Yin-Yang. It is therefore the true “One,” not a false “one.”

If it is the true One, how could it be kept through grasping or holding on? If it could be grasped, it would not be the true One; whatever was grasped would necessarily be only an illusion. And how could it be observed through contemplation and the stilling of thoughts? If it could be observed in this way, it would not be the true “One”; what was observed and held on to would necessarily be false as well. As for the various schools and unorthodox practices, they are like taking a thief for one’s child, abandoning the true path to follow a crooked one. They have no real understanding of what the Qi of the true One is. No wonder some people practice until old age without accomplishing anything, finally falling into emptiness and futility.

When Wuyuan first met the Elder of Kangu, the elder showed him the Great Way of cultivating the Real, making many things clear. But he remained puzzled for thirteen years by the words, “The precelestial Qi comes from emptiness and nothingness,” because he had never experienced it himself. He read every alchemical text he could find and still did not understand what it truly meant.

Later, he met the Venerable Xianliu, who laid bare the source for him. Like biting through a hard iron pellet, the venerable explained it in just a few words, and Wuyuan suddenly understood. He then realized that “emptiness and nothingness” truly meant emptiness and nothingness, and that the “True One” truly was the True One. It is not something that originally belongs to oneself and can be possessed, nor is it something obtained from another. It cannot be expressed in words, images, or pictures; it can only be experienced through the mind and understood through Shen (spirit). When it unfolds, it fills the heavens and earth in all directions; when it contracts, it lies hidden in the deepest obscurity. It pervades heaven and earth and is the foundation within the hearts of sages and worthies. Becoming a sage or worthy, an immortal or a Buddha—all arise from this. If one recognizes this precelestial Qi of the True One, the foundation of cultivating the Dao is established, and everything else is secondary. As the ancient immortals said, “Obtain the One, and all things are complete.”

Once you receive the oral instructions, practice according to them, and you can find a gateway to the Dao everywhere. The ancient immortals said, “Any willow can tether a horse; every household threshold leads to Chang’an.” This means that if you practice with sincerity, you can come to understand the True One through seeking it. But without entering the realm of natural authenticity, you can never attain it by mere luck. What Wuyuanzi describes is the precelestial Great Way; the essential task of cultivation is to return to the root and restore the origin. Unless body and mind can enter the state that precedes the precelestial, the Mysterious Gate—the crucial aperture through which one recognizes the Dao in cultivation—will not open.

Thus, according to this teaching, if one cannot enter the realm of natural authenticity, the precelestial Qi will not appear, and what one attains will not be real. If one can maintain and practice Zhiguan (stilling distractions and observing the mind), begin working from before the precelestial, and enter deeply into the realm of natural authenticity, then the whole spirit has already realized the True One. To seek the True One by means of the True One is as easy as turning over one’s palm. How could one mistake something false for the real?

As I have heard it, and as this passage presents the matter, practitioners should take particular care to avoid two kinds of materials used in alchemy: “red lead and plum kernels” and “the five metals and eight minerals.” Ancient practitioners used them too, but only as “seed agents” in alchemical work—that is, as media that initiated and assisted the alchemical method, since they could bring forth subtle effects. To take them as medicines is absolutely not the way of the immortals’ cultivation, so this practice must be firmly rejected.

Apart from these two kinds, other methods of cultivation may be used to verify one’s progress, but all should take alignment with Wuwei (non-action) as their guiding principle. Cultivation has no fixed sequence, though one should begin in turn with inner observation, outer observation, and distant observation. Once one reaches the state in which there is nothing left to empty and no stillness left to seek, one should go further in pursuit of the sacred Dao, shatter emptiness, and thereby arrive at a state that is neither two nor one with the precelestial True One, which exists within emptiness—the original ground of being that is true from before birth. This is the Dao of attaining the precelestial True One. I received this Dao from my late master Taixu, and also sought confirmation of it from the Perfected One of Jizu. I have written these words to add what Mr. Wuyuan did not discuss.

True and False Body and Mind

People today all speak of body and mind, yet they know only the body and thoughts formed through illusion, and do not know the true body and mind. No wonder that, abandoning what is real to pursue what is false, they grow weary and decline in body and mind before their allotted years have run their course: they look alive on the outside, while their souls seem already to have fallen into a ghostly lair.

Why do I say this? The illusory body is the fleshly body; the illusory mind is the ordinary human mind. The eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and intention all arise from this illusory body. Joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, love, aversion, and desire are all thoughts produced by the human mind. The six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and intention—can at any moment damage one’s life; the seven emotions and deluded thoughts can also bring a person to death. When external things stir the senses and emotions, people are quick to form thoughts and react. How many can avoid being harmed by this? To take the illusory body and mind as real is like mistaking a thief for one’s son and a servant for one’s master. Once one’s allotted life no longer continues, where are the body and the mind? They are merely illusory things; there can be no doubt of it.

As for the true body, it is the “Dharma Body” (the real body that transcends the flesh and is the foundation of cultivation). The true mind is the “Heavenly Mind” (the mind that is clear by nature). Yin-Yang and the Five Phases are what the Dharma Body gives rise to. The Infant, the Maiden, the Wood Mother, the Metal Father, and the Yellow Matron, as well as coral, giant clam shell, crystal, jasper, and gold, are all metaphorical names arising from the Heavenly Mind. Among these, the conditions associated with the five natures can all become seeds for cultivating the Dao; the five kinds of supreme treasure, symbolic treasures in alchemical texts, are the resources on which alchemical practice depends. Gathering, refining, and cultivating them can bring a person back from death and restore youth.

Yet many people do not recognize what the Dharma Body and Heavenly Mind give rise to. Thus the Dharma Body is buried, while the illusory body (the unreal fleshly body) takes control; the Heavenly Mind recedes, while the human mind (the mind shaped by desire and discrimination) rules. As a result, people pass through birth and death, life after life, without end.

The Dharma Body supports the heavens above and stands upon the earth below. It has neither head nor tail, neither back nor front, and rests at the center without leaning to either side. In its strength, it can shatter empty space; in its gentleness, all changes in the myriad things can return to stillness. In its solidity, it sinks not in water, burns not in fire, and passes unhindered through metal and stone. Tigers cannot harm it, and weapons cannot wound it. It is where the root of life resides.

The Heavenly Mind is neither stained nor attached to purity. It is utterly empty yet numinously clear: in stillness, it is silent and unmoving; when it encounters things, it responds and reaches through them. In stillness, it hears no sound and smells no scent; in motion, its workings are unfathomable. To describe its form, one might say it resembles a crescent moon, an upturned bowl, or a tiny millet grain. It falls into neither of the extremes of form and emptiness, yet can appear within both; it is neither being nor nonbeing, yet can manifest amid both being and nonbeing. It is where human nature resides.

Once one understands the Dharma Body and Heavenly Mind and uses them to cultivate nature and life (cultivating one’s nature and refining one’s life), awakening to one’s nature and cultivating the root of life become as easy as turning over one’s hand. Thus the ancients said, “In the end, the two words ‘body’ and ‘mind’ are hidden within the ten thousand volumes of alchemical scriptures.” Indeed, the illusory body and the human mind, too, are where one’s nature resides.

If we understand body and mind and use that understanding to cultivate nature and life, awakening to nature and life becomes as easy as turning over the palm of one’s hand. Thus the ancients said, “In the end, the two words ‘body’ and ‘mind’ are concealed within the ten thousand volumes of Elixir texts.” If this refers only to the illusory body and the thoughts of ordinary people, then these are plain for all to see, and even ordinary men and women know them. Why, then, do the ten thousand volumes of Elixir texts conceal them instead of explaining them directly? If something is being withheld, there must be a secret too difficult to state openly. Can we really take these simply to mean the body and mind that undergo illusory change? Alas, how difficult it is to know body and mind! Without spending decades probing their principles, one cannot readily encounter the Dharma Body—the true ground spoken of in cultivation—or understand the Heavenly Mind, the mind that is innately clear and bright. If we do not know body and mind, how can we cultivate nature and life? Those who study the Dao should apply themselves diligently.

A commentary on the text says: The true body and true mind discussed here are originally present in everyone. Those who are deluded have lost them, while those who awaken recover them. Cultivators of old passed down formulas for summoning and reclaiming them: some used their own work in cultivation to restore them, while others established a medium to draw them back. They could overcome deviations and bring them back because the real and the illusory originally emerge from “the One.” They differ only in their order of arising, so distinguishing them is not difficult.

“The One” is the original substance; “the Origin” is its function. Follow the function outward, and one falls into the acquired state; return to the original substance, and one comes back to the primordial state. Those who study the Dao and grasp this can distinguish substance from function. The secrets that the scripture says are difficult to put into words probably refer to subtle methods of summoning and reclaiming, such as carefully preparing the ground and planting the seed, or using the false to restore the true. These methods do not depart from body and mind. Once we discern the real from the illusory within body and mind, cultivation has a direction, and everything can accord with principle.

True and False Nature and Life

The Book of Changes says, “Probe the principles of things, fully understand human nature, and thereby come to know Heaven’s mandate.” The ancient Immortals said, “If you cultivate nature but not life, then through countless kalpas even the yin spirit will find it hard to become a sage. If you cultivate life but not nature, it is like having wealth in the household without an owner to manage it.” These sayings all speak of the dual cultivation of nature and life. Nature has its principles, and life has its principles; without the work of probing those principles, we cannot know them.

Human beings have an innate nature and a temperament shaped after birth. They also have a destiny determined by the celestial order and a life brought to fulfillment by the Qi of the Dao. Innate nature is the innate capacity for understanding and action that people are born with, enabling them to grasp the principles of all things and respond to all kinds of circumstances. Temperament shaped after birth varies according to whether the Qi one receives is clear or turbid, upright or deviant; this gives rise to differences in wisdom and folly, intelligence and ineptitude. Destiny determined by the celestial order consists of lifespan, hardship or success, wealth or rank, and adversity as allotted by Heaven, with each person’s allotment differing in length and degree. Life brought to fulfillment by the Qi of the Dao is vigorous and pure, unconfined by life and death, enduring, and in harmony with Heaven and Earth, beyond the limits of Yin-Yang transformation.

Innate nature is true; temperament shaped after birth is false. Life brought to fulfillment by the Qi of the Dao is true; destiny determined by the celestial order is false. The true belongs to what is innate, the false to what comes after birth: what is innate lies beyond Yin-Yang, while what comes after birth exists within Yin-Yang. The two kinds of “true” and “false” are distinct, and so nature and life are distinct as well. If those who cultivate the Dao understand how to cultivate innate nature to transform their acquired temperament, and refine the life brought to fulfillment by the Qi of the Dao to transform the destiny allotted by Heaven, they will have mastered the way of cultivating nature and establishing life.

“Nature” arises from the heart-mind. The heart-mind is the dwelling place of Shen (spirit); when the heart-mind is clear, Shen is still, and when Shen is still, nature becomes settled. Thus, the transformation and cultivation of nature depend on the heart-mind. “Life,” by contrast, is set in motion when a person’s heart-mind makes a single appeal: when something is sought, there is a response; the response sets the movement of Qi in motion, and this movement of Qi is the foundation of life. Here, “body” refers to the human form, so the transformation and cultivation of life depend on the body.

The scripture also says that life belongs to “the other’s household,” while nature belongs to “my household.” This uses the contrast between outside and inside as a metaphor: first, one seeks from outside oneself a method for cultivating life that can make one immortal, thereby securing life; then one seeks what one originally possesses within oneself in order to complete the cultivation of nature. Body and heart-mind are originally one; nature and life are also interrelated. Therefore, both nature and life can be cultivated to completion.

Those who follow unorthodox and deviant paths do not understand what “life” means. Some take Qi formed after birth to be life; some take the turbid Jing in the kidneys to be life; others take the function that issues commands to be life. Nor do they understand what “nature” means. Some take keen, perceptive awareness to be nature; some take dull emptiness and stillness, extinguishing everything, to be nature; others take the temperament bestowed on a person to be nature. These views speak of life without understanding its essential point, and speak of nature without understanding its root.

What is nature? It needs no deliberate recognition: following the patterns of Heaven is nature. Being perfectly integrated and unobstructed, radiant and bright, pure and unstained, open and manifest—these are all nature. The “moon cave” in “When Qian meets Xun, observe the moon cave” (a Neidan term for discerning the principles of nature amid Yin-Yang transformation) is also nature. The “mystery” in observing the wonders of all things with a mind free of desire is nature as well.

What is life? When man and woman unite, their Jing and Qi combine, bringing forth the myriad things: this is life. The impulse of life, elusive and hard to grasp, and the subtle essence hidden in the deep and distant darkness are also life. The “Heavenly Root” in “Where Earth meets Thunder, see the Heavenly Root” (a Neidan term for the root of Yin-Yang interaction and the sprouting of Yang Qi) is also life. The “aperture” in observing the essential workings of all things with a mind that has desire is life as well. By probing the impulse of life within the elusive and the subtle essence within the deep, one can understand the root of life. Only by fully understanding nature and life can one truly know them; only after knowing nature and life can one speak of cultivating them. Alas, those who truly understand are already few. How much rarer are those who can put this cultivation into practice? Why do students of the Dao not distinguish these matters clearly sooner?

Commentary: The principles of nature and life have now been fully laid out. Yet without decades of diligent practice, they are still difficult to understand completely.

The relationship between precelestial and postcelestial Yin-Yang.

The precelestial Yin-Yang refers to “being” and “nonbeing”; the postcelestial Yin-Yang refers to the Yin and Yang of the heart and kidneys. The precelestial Yin-Yang of being and nonbeing has no physical form, while the Yin and Yang of the heart and kidneys have concrete manifestations. “Being” refers to the single Yang line within the Kan trigram (symbolizing water and the kidneys). It is called true Yang, also known as “wondrous being.” “Nonbeing” refers to the single Yin line within the Li trigram (symbolizing fire and the heart). It is called true Yin, also known as “true emptiness.” Since they are called true Yin and true Yang, they are not the false Yin and false Yang found in the postcelestial body.

True Yin and true Yang belong to the precelestial realm and move within the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); false Yin and false Yang belong to the postcelestial realm and are stored within the human body. Postcelestial Yin and Yang exist as long as the body does, and vanish and decay when the body dies. Precelestial Yin and Yang, by contrast, arise from the formless and move within the imageless; they do not decay.

The Yin and Yang of the heart and kidneys come from the essence and blood formed through the union of one’s parents. They have Qi and physical substance, and so change along with the body’s life and death. Precelestial Yin and Yang, by contrast, come from the “Dharma Body” (the fundamental nature that transcends the physical body). Born from the single Qi within the void, they have Qi but no physical substance, and can therefore endure as long as Heaven and Earth. This is the difference between the precelestial and the postcelestial.

Although precelestial Yin and Yang arise in the precelestial realm, once a person has a body they are stored within the postcelestial realm, and thus also belong to the Kan and Li trigrams. Kan has Yin on the outside and Yang within: the outer Yin is postcelestial Yin, and the inner Yang is precelestial Yang. Li has Yang on the outside and Yin within: the outer Yang is postcelestial Yang, and the inner Yin is precelestial Yin. This, too, explains the distinction between the precelestial and postcelestial through the structure of Kan and Li.

Postcelestial Yin-Yang operates only within the human body, changing in accordance with the natural patterns of physiology. At the Hour of the Rat, around midnight, Yang Qi first arises: a current of Yang Qi rises within the kidneys and circulates through the blood vessels during the day. At the Hour of the Horse, around noon, Yin Qi first arises: a current of Yin Qi descends within the heart and circulates through the blood vessels at night. Yin and Yang alternate in their movement, cycling without end through day and night. When a person moves from having prenatal Qi latent within the body to engaging in postcelestial life activities, excessive worry can damage the spirit, while indulgence in sexual pleasure can deplete Jing and Qi. As the spirit gradually declines, original Qi is also consumed without one’s noticing. When Qi is exhausted, the person dies.

Prenatal Yin-Yang, by contrast, operates in the Void and reverses the ordinary patterns of creation and transformation. When a practitioner encounters the “living Hour of the Rat”—the moment when Yang Qi stirs within—the Yang Qi is reborn at the Kan position, which symbolizes Water and the kidneys. The practitioner must then advance the Yang Fire, using intent to propel Yang Qi upward and help it grow. When the “living Hour of the Horse” arrives—the moment when Yin Qi stirs within—Yin Qi joins at the Li position, which symbolizes Fire and the heart. The practitioner must then retreat the Yin Talisman, gathering Yang Qi and nurturing it with a gentle Yin method, thereby nourishing the Dharma Body, the form of body and mind attained through cultivation. Once the Dharma Body is complete, after ten months of abundant Qi and full nurturing, the practitioner emerges from the “sacred embryo,” the inner embryo symbolizing the fruits of cultivation, and can become an immortal. This is the difference between prenatal and postcelestial Yin-Yang.

Alas, even postcelestial Yin-Yang within one’s own body cannot bring a person to complete realization of nature and life. Those who take sexual intercourse between men and women to be Yin-Yang and use it to practice heterodox arts commit sins beyond words. If students of the Dao can clearly distinguish prenatal Yin-Yang from postcelestial Yin-Yang and promptly seek a true teacher’s confirmation, they may perhaps attain success. If they cannot distinguish true Yin-Yang from false, and imagine that a few words alone will let them seize the workings of creation and transcend the ordinary to become sages, how could that make sense? How can students of the Dao fail to consider this again and again?

Canzheng observes that this analysis is exceptionally precise and that students should follow it, for it gives the correct path to Daoist cultivation. If they investigate it further and put it into practice, it will naturally have great effect. This differs from heterodox schools that misunderstand “taking from nearby and taking from afar” to mean using external things, while remaining bound to methods based on tangible forms and appearances. Wuyuanzi’s statement, “The mystery cannot be understood through a word or two,” points precisely to the profound workings contained within it. Yet if one can truly begin before the prenatal state, everything will naturally come together at every turn.

My late teacher, Venerable Taixu, said: “When you cultivate to the state of selflessness, you will understand that the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are originally one, yet each is also divided into three. This means forgetting distinctions and merging into unity. The perfected people of antiquity could take the Three Powers as their own Dharma body—the true embodiment attained through cultivation—and take being and nonbeing as Yin and Yang, and True Unity—the pure and unified source—as the Supreme Ultimate in its undifferentiated state. Being and nonbeing do not change through movement, and neither movement nor stillness can make them cease. Clear and tranquil, they remain constant: this is what I call the Heart of Heaven. The perfected people of antiquity could achieve this, and those who study the Dao should likewise take being and nonbeing as Yin and Yang, and True Unity as the undifferentiated Supreme Ultimate. Being and nonbeing do not change through movement, and neither movement nor stillness can make them cease. Clear and tranquil, they remain constant: this is the Heart of Heaven. The perfected people of antiquity could do this, and those who study the Dao can follow their example, moving from a temporary achievement to a lasting one, and from effortful practice to ease and contentment. Is that not wondrous?” My teacher’s teaching was this subtle.

These words supplement aspects not addressed in Wu Yuanzi’s discussion, so I have recorded the relevant corroborating points.

The Inner and Outer Five Phases

When the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—come together, the Golden Elixir takes shape. When the Golden Elixir is depleted, the Five Phases disperse. This is an inevitable principle. But Yin and Yang have inner and outer forms, so there is more than one set of Five Phases. Why is this so? Because there are inner and outer Five Phases, both in Heaven and on Earth.

The Five Phases of Heaven are called “cycles,” while those of Earth are called “Qi.” Heaven’s Five Phases correspond to the ten Heavenly Stems: Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, and Gui. Earth’s Five Phases correspond to the twelve Earthly Branches: Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, and Hai. Jia, Bing, Geng, Ren, and Wu are Yang and outer; Yi, Ding, Xin, Gui, and Ji are Yin and inner. Yin, Shen, Si, Hai, Chen, and Xu are Yang and outer; Zi, Wu, Mao, You, Chou, and Wei are Yin and inner.

The Five Phases described here are fundamentally a single system. Why, then, are they divided into four systems? Because the Five Phases arise from the two Qi of Yin and Yang. The laws of Heaven divide into Yin and Yang, while the laws of Earth divide into softness and firmness.

The Five Phases of Heaven arise from the transformations of Heaven’s Yin and Yang. Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth each have Yin and Yang Qi: Jia, Bing, Geng, Ren, and Wu are Yang; Yi, Ding, Xin, Gui, and Ji are Yin. This is the Five Phases of Heaven’s Yin and Yang. The Five Phases of Earth arise from the transformations of Earth’s firmness and softness. Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth each have Qi of firmness and softness: Yin, Shen, Si, Hai, Chen, and Xu are firm; Zi, Wu, Mao, You, Chou, and Wei are soft. This is the Five Phases of Earth’s Yin and Yang.

The Five Phases of Heaven are primarily active, though stillness also exists within their movement. Stillness within movement is represented by Yi, Ding, Xin, Gui, and Ji. The Five Phases of Earth are primarily still, though movement also exists within their stillness. Movement within stillness is represented by Yin, Shen, Si, Hai, Chen, and Xu.

Viewed as a whole, the Five Phases of Heaven are on the outside and those of Earth are on the inside. Viewed according to their respective classifications, Jia, Bing, Geng, Ren, and Wu of Heaven are on the outside, while Yi, Ding, Xin, Gui, and Ji are on the inside; Yin, Shen, Si, Hai, Chen, and Xu of Earth are on the outside, while Zi, Wu, Mao, You, Chou, and Wei are on the inside. This is the principle of inner and outer, Yin and Yang, embodied by the four systems of the Five Phases.

The human body is like this too: it contains the Five Phases of the Heavenly Stems and the Five Phases of the Earthly Branches. The “Five Phases of the Heavenly Stems” refers to the five yin aspects: original nature, original emotions, original Shen, original Jing, and original Qi. The five yang aspects are benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. In the “Five Phases of the Earthly Branches,” wandering hun souls, ghostly po souls, cognitive Shen, turbid Jing, and deluded thoughts are yin; joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, and desire are yang.

The yang aspects of the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys, and the yin aspects of the stomach, gallbladder, triple burner, bladder, and large and small intestines, belong to turbid substances formed after birth, with visible form and appearance. They are not included in the four sets of Five Phases discussed here. The “four sets of Five Phases” brings together the Dharma Body—the body of inner, pure nature—and the Illusory Body, formed from physical form and acquired consciousness. In this account, the Five Phases of the Heavenly Stems govern the movement of the Five Phases of the Earthly Branches. Considered separately, the Dharma Body uses benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness to govern nature, emotions, Shen, and Qi. The Illusory Body, in turn, is made up of Shen, hun and po souls, and thoughts, and includes joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, and desire. These are different classifications of the Five Phases in Heaven and Earth and in the human body, both inwardly and outwardly.

The Five Phases follow patterns of generation: Metal generates Water, Water generates Wood, Wood generates Fire, Fire generates Earth, and Earth generates Metal. They also follow patterns of overcoming: Metal overcomes Wood, Wood overcomes Earth, Earth overcomes Water, Water overcomes Fire, and Fire overcomes Metal. There is also the principle that overcoming is contained within generation, and generation within overcoming. Generation containing overcoming is the pattern of acquired, forward movement; overcoming containing generation is the pattern of innate, reverse movement. When students understand how the Five Phases generate and overcome one another, and distinguish forward movement from reverse movement, their principles will become clear.

The commentary says that this passage explains subtle principles. One should reflect on it repeatedly in daily life and put it to the test in practice, until each layer of meaning is understood and clear in the heart. One should keep practicing and recognizing the innate principle of reverse movement, “generation within overcoming.” Once the patterns of generation and overcoming are understood, and forward movement distinguished from reverse movement, the principles of the Five Phases will become clear.

This concise discussion of cultivation should be pondered repeatedly in daily life and experienced firsthand during practice, with each point clearly understood. Through continued study and repeated practice, the steps will become familiar; then even when you find time to practice amid a busy day, you are less likely to lose your way. When you reach a state of self-forgetfulness, you will naturally follow the essential principles of cultivation. Practitioners should not mislead themselves: a deviation as slight as a hair’s breadth may lead to an error a thousand miles away.

From birth, we often stray from the Dao (the Way) and turn against our original nature. Our minds lose any measure or restraint in how they open and settle, falling far short of the undisturbed inner state of an infant. At the beginning of cultivation, body and mind must return to emptiness and stillness. Settle the mind without deliberately trying to strengthen anything or trying to forget anything. Keep this clarity and quiet at all times and in all places. The saying, “Only quiet the agitated mind; do not extinguish the illuminating mind,” means that restless thoughts should subside while clear awareness remains. Once body and mind become naturally empty and still, without striving for emptiness, and naturally quiet, without striving for quiet, then turn your attention inward. Everything that appears within the mind arises from innate nature; simply observe each thing calmly. With continued practice, inner visions will grow increasingly pure. Only then can you begin to sustain them and consider what to accept or set aside, without falling into error.

To get to the foundations of cultivation, first read this discussion thoroughly and repeatedly, then practice each step in sequence, making sure each one is realized in your own experience. Set aside distracting thoughts and attachments; do not let what you see disturb your resolve, and do not rush to ask what results the practice will bring. It is especially important to lose track of time and dates during practice. Once the various ailments of the body have been dispelled, you will naturally proceed step by step in accordance with the rules, and come to experience the subtle wonder of “each drop returning to its source”—that is, the gradual return of the smallest gains from cultivation to their root. Practitioners should not dismiss these words as mere repetition of old sayings. Even with wisdom surpassing that of Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, disciples of Confucius renowned for their virtue, one cannot enter the Way without genuine practice. Such is the teaching left by my late teacher, the Elder Taixu. Grateful for the compassion of Wu Yuanzi, I have therefore copied my teacher’s instructions to share with those who are of like mind.

Medicinal agents are divided into internal and external agents, and cultivation practice likewise has two stages. Those who cultivate the Dao but do not understand both kinds of agents are like blind people trying to walk or deaf people trying to hear: in the end, they will never find the path of cultivation.

What are internal and external agents? The internal agent is something already present within oneself, while the external agent comes from “the other.” The internal agent within oneself is called “numinous mercury,” and the external agent from the other is called “true lead.” Numinous mercury is not actual mercury, and true lead is not black tin; both are treasures formed before birth, not the turbid substances of the mundane world.

Numinous mercury is also called the “Maiden,” likened to a wife and associated with the inner. True lead is also called the “Infant,” likened to a husband and associated with the outer. Though numinous mercury is a treasure bestowed from birth, it is prone to agitation and disperses when exposed to fire. Without true lead to restrain it, it wanders in every direction and is difficult to gather in. This muddles the true and the false during cultivation, so that benefits instead give rise to harm. True lead must therefore subdue true mercury, bringing lead and mercury together like a harmonious husband and wife. Then, when the proper firing process is applied, cultivation can bear fruit.

Numinous mercury is already within oneself and need not be sought outside. True lead is different: after “Yang reaches its utmost and Yin begins to arise”—when Yang energy reaches its peak and Yin begins to emerge—it moves in “the other’s domain” and no longer belongs to oneself. One must first find true lead and bring it back within, then join it with true mercury, so that Yin and Yang do not fall into disorder. Since lead belongs to “the other” and mercury to “me,” this is called the inner and the outer, or the distinction between the other and the self.

In the alchemical classics, “the seven returns” means returning true mercury to its original nature; “the nine restorations” means restoring true lead to its original nature. “The other’s domain” does not mean another person’s actual home. It refers to the external side to which true lead belongs before it returns.

In alchemical scriptures, “seven returns” means bringing true Mercury—an alchemical term for the yin substance or yin essence within the body—back to its original nature. “Nine restorations” means restoring true Lead—an alchemical term for the yang substance or yang essence within the body—to its original nature.

The “other’s household” mentioned in the scripture does not mean treating another person as “other,” nor does it mean that there is literally an external household. Before true Lead arrives, it is called “other” or “outside”; once true Lead arrives, it belongs to “me” or “inside.” The terms inside and outside, me and other, refer only to whether true Lead has yet to arrive or has already arrived.

At the beginning of a person’s birth, when they receive primordial Qi, Lead and Mercury are originally a single Qi, with no division between inside and outside, or between me and other. Later, as this Qi reaches its peak and then begins to wane, Lead and Mercury come to occupy opposite sides, giving rise to the language of me and other, inside and outside. Lead and Mercury, however, have two distinct meanings, and these must be distinguished.

When cultivating the restored Elixir—the preliminary elixir produced through refinement—black Lead is used to subdue red Mercury, so that Lead and Mercury combine and form the restored Elixir. This is the first distinction between the two kinds of medicine, inside and outside. Once refined, the restored Elixir is also called true Lead. True Lead is taken to transform one’s own yin Mercury, quickly drying it up; then the dried Mercury is used to nurture true Lead, forming the Great Elixir, the further-refined elixir. This is the second distinction between the two kinds of medicine, inside and outside. If students understand how these two layers of inner and outer medicines relate, they can clarify the stages of cultivating the restored Elixir and the Great Elixir.

Can Zheng observes that the text explains inside and outside, me and other, with great clarity, enabling students to recognize the key to cultivation. Its further explanation of the two layers of inner and outer medicines is especially valuable, since it also makes the subsequent stages of cultivation easier to trace. Can Zheng adds that what Wu Yuanzhi describes still belongs to the lesser restoration. The essential method of the Great Restoration is to place body and mind before the primordial state, so that they draw together the primordial unity of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, the Three Powers, and bring the whole body back to primordial unity. The key to its function lies in the words “from nothingness.”

The saying “When the Non-Polar stirs, the first thing to appear is the One” does not use “nonbeing” to mean the emptiness praised by later Buddhist thinkers. It means that, from a state of being utterly full, one comes to cling to nothing in that fullness, and only then can one enter true nonbeing. Attaining and experiencing this state is called “nonbeing.” It is the foundation of all things and the source of the Three Powers: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity. Attaining this nonbeing is the Great Return Elixir. My late teacher, Elder Taixu, once explained it in this way. I have recorded his words to supplement what this discussion has not yet fully revealed.

The Lesser and Greater Return Elixirs

The Wuzhen Pian says, “The splendid Golden Elixir is completed in a single day.” An ancient scripture also says, “The Return Elixir can be completed in an instant, but nurturing it with warmth takes ten months.” Alas, how can the Way of the Return Elixir be easy to understand?

The Return Elixir is divided into the Lesser Return Elixir and the Greater Return Elixir. The Lesser Return Elixir is called the Golden Elixir; the Greater Return Elixir is called the Great Elixir of Golden Liquid, the Seven Returns and Nine Reversions.

The Lesser Return Elixir means returning from the acquired state to the primordial state. It uses “lead” to subdue “mercury” and “water” to harmonize “fire”; it pairs the Golden Youth with the Jade Maiden, has the Black Tiger ride the Red Dragon, and makes the Tortoise swallow the Vermilion Bird. These are all symbolic expressions in Neidan (internal alchemy), describing the harmonization of forces such as Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The practitioner uses an external or opposing force to harmonize the self, restoring what already belongs to them to its proper place and recovering their original true nature. This is the Way of the Return Elixir, hence its name; it is also called the Golden Elixir. A scripture says, “Only when the gold returns to the original nature of life can it be called the Return Elixir.” This refers to the Lesser Return Elixir.

It is called “lesser” because it merely restores what was originally there: what had been depleted is replenished, and what had been lost is returned. Although the elixir has been refined, it has not yet undergone the tempering of the fire phases. If one is careless even for a moment, it may still be lost again after being gained; hence it is called the “Lesser Return.”

Building on this, one cultivates further and repositions the furnace and cauldron—a term in Neidan that metaphorically describes the body, mind, and conditions for refinement and nourishment. The Reverted Elixir, already refined, is continuously warmed and nurtured until body and mind reach a state of utter emptiness and stillness. At this point, Yin reaches its limit and turns into Yang, and primordial Qi begins to sprout anew. One then applies the Yin Talisman and Yang Fire, terms for different degrees and methods of circulation in Neidan, gradually drawing out and adding to it until it develops from nothing into something, from faint to manifest. After ten months of warming and nurturing, the Elixir embryo matures and emerges from the dharma body—the body brought forth through cultivation—like ripe fruit falling from its stem. This is called the “Great Elixir.” As for opening a new heaven and earth, repositioning the furnace and cauldron, and bringing forth descendants who continue and multiply generation after generation, ultimately becoming Great Luo Perfected Ones in the ten directions, this already goes beyond the scope of the Lesser and Greater Reverted Elixirs.

People in the world do not understand the difference between the Lesser and Greater Reverted Elixirs. They speak vaguely of “the Way of the Golden Elixir,” imagining that a word or two from a master will be enough for them to succeed. How foolish! Other heterodox paths are not even worth discussing. Even among those who speak only of the genuine methods they have obtained, some know how to refine the self—that is, cultivate the mind and nature—but do not know how to gather the ingredients; some know how to gather the ingredients but do not know how to set up the furnace and establish the cauldron; and some know how to set up the furnace and establish the cauldron but do not know how to harmonize them. Others understand only the Lesser Reverted Elixir, not the Greater Reverted Elixir, and so abandon the work halfway through. Alas! Cultivation begins with deliberate action, but ultimately returns to Wuwei (non-action). If one knows only how to begin and not how to bring the work to completion, attaining the Great Dao will be difficult. Those who study must understand the process from beginning to end, without the slightest doubt. Only then can they proceed.

[Commentary] The treatise emphasizes setting up the furnace and establishing the cauldron, as did the sages of antiquity. In my view, when people lack worldly resources, even beginning cultivation is difficult; how much more difficult, then, to attain completion? For this reason, the Most High, in compassion, established the method called “planting the seed through an expedient illusion” and transmitted it to the Lü School, the Daoist lineage of precepts. First, one accumulates primordial Qi to strengthen the dharma body; then one receives the “One” to form the Elixir. How magnificent and free this arrangement is!

According to Wu Yuan’s account, these principles are exceedingly subtle. Yet some people lack even the material resources needed to get by, and often fall into poverty or even ruin. How much less likely, then, are those without good roots of virtue accumulated in the past to be fortunate enough to encounter a true opportunity? So I have written down what I have heard, to add what this account has not yet addressed. But to recount the matter from beginning to end is bound to invite slander; it is truly difficult to make learners free of doubt.

Using Good and Ill Fortune

The Wuzhen (Wuzhen pian, a Daoist Neidan classic) says: “From ancient times, calamity and fortune have depended on and concealed themselves within one another, following each other like shadow and echo. If one can transform the vital impulse and the killing impulse, calamity can become fortune in the blink of an eye.” It also says: “Treat the gate that seems to cut off life as the gate of life; do not insist on taking the gate that seems to hold life as the gate of death. Only when you understand how the killing impulse transforms and cycles back upon itself will you know that harm may also contain the grace of life.”

This means that, in cultivating the Way of the Golden Elixir, one must first understand the principles governing change in good and ill fortune. Only then can one advance or withdraw as circumstances require, and act in accord with the right moment. Otherwise, unable to recognize good fortune or calamity and unable to distinguish right from wrong, one will bring disaster upon oneself by acting rashly, like fire igniting within wood. Instead of gaining any benefit, one will be harmed.

What counts as good fortune, and what as calamity? Consider the “medicines” used in cultivation—that is, Jing and Qi and the like in Neidan practice. When the vital impulse has just begun to stir, that is good fortune; once the proper moment has passed, it becomes calamity. The southwest is auspicious, the northeast inauspicious. The spirit free from control by acquired thoughts and delusions is auspicious; the cognitive spirit, shaped by acquired thought and consciousness, is inauspicious. Original Jing and original Qi, the innate and true essence and vital energy, are auspicious; acquired Jing and Qi are inauspicious. The true body, the genuine original self referred to in cultivation, is auspicious; the illusory body, the acquired physical form or deluded self, is inauspicious. Heavenly nature is auspicious; temperament shaped by Qi is inauspicious. The Dao-heart, the original heart aligned with the Dao, is auspicious; the human heart, pulled by selfish desires and acquired consciousness, is inauspicious.

In the process of “gathering and refining” (the practice of gathering and refining), it is auspicious for Water and Fire to harmonize and support one another, and inauspicious when they cannot. It is auspicious for Metal and Wood to unite, and inauspicious when they remain separate. It is auspicious to transform postnatal Qi through precelestial Qi, and inauspicious when postnatal Qi instead damages precelestial Qi. The intensity and pace of the firing process should accord with the right moment; this is auspicious. Using the gentle and fierce firing methods of cultivation improperly is inauspicious. It is auspicious to reduce what is excessive and replenish what is lacking; abandoning the right path for a deviant one is inauspicious. It is auspicious to seek the potential for life within processes of dissolution and elimination; apparent growth that conceals dissolution and elimination is inauspicious.

In the stage of “returning the Elixir” (when cultivation causes Jing, Qi, and Shen to return to a state of gathered unity), it is auspicious to include both oneself and others, bringing the inner and outer into accord; caring only for oneself and disregarding others is inauspicious. It is auspicious for emotion to return to one’s innate nature; it is inauspicious for innate nature to be pulled along by emotion. It is auspicious to accumulate moral principle and allow it to unfold naturally; seizing from outside through force and striving to obtain results is inauspicious. It is auspicious when the Dragon and Tiger (symbols of the two forces of Yin and Yang) do no harm; scattered and disordered Shen and Qi are inauspicious. The arrival of the Yang from the other family (external Yang that can aid cultivation) is auspicious; stagnation of the Yin within my own family is inauspicious. It is auspicious to turn from decline toward renewal; it is inauspicious to stir things up within oneself only to fall into stagnation and impurity. It is auspicious when Kan (symbolizing Water and Yin) arrives and Li (symbolizing Fire and Yang) receives it; it is inauspicious when the other has arrived but I have neither waited nor prepared. It is auspicious to use lead to regulate mercury (using what is stable to restrain what is prone to move); it is inauspicious for Yin to consume and diminish Yang Qi. Once the substances for cultivation have been sufficiently refined, timely gentle warming is auspicious; continuing to refine after they are already full is inauspicious.

For the refinement of the Great Elixir—the fruit of Neidan practice—tortoise and snake coiled together, with Yin and Yang in harmony, are auspicious signs; dragons and tigers in conflict, with Yin and Yang at odds, are inauspicious signs. Forming the elixir in a single moment is auspicious; sinking into a chaotic state for seven days is inauspicious. The partners working together in harmony is auspicious; interference from outside forces is inauspicious. Carefully guarding against danger is auspicious; an imbalance between water and fire, with cold or heat predominating, is inauspicious. A secure seal is auspicious; noticing only after a mistake has been made is inauspicious. When the embryo elixir is mature, shedding the womb and transforming is auspicious; trying to extract it before it has matured is inauspicious. These are the principles governing auspicious and inauspicious changes in Neidan and Waidan practice. You must understand each level thoroughly and attend carefully to every detail before beginning the practice.

You must also understand the changes in the hexagrams of the Book of Changes: the great fruit of Bo (Stripping), the calamity of Fu (Return), the disorder of fate in Tai (Peace), the joyful event after Pi (Standstill), the voicelessness of Guai (Breakthrough), the concealed radiance of Gou (Coming to Meet), how Ji Ji (After Completion) ultimately turns to disorder, and how Wei Ji (Before Completion) ends in brightness and good fortune. Inauspicious signs may conceal good fortune, and auspicious signs may turn into misfortune. Good and bad fortune are not fixed; change has no constant pattern.

If your understanding is inaccurate, your practice will go awry. A difference of a hair’s breadth may lead to a thousand-mile divergence in the result. If you truly understand how auspicious and inauspicious changes unfold in practice, see them clearly and precisely, and know when to advance or withdraw, speed up or slow down, diminish or increase, you will respond with ease, and make progress at every step of the practice.

[For further consideration: This discussion is exceptionally precise, and students must not overlook it. Yet there is also an extremely concise and subtle secret: if you keep your thoughts clear and calm at all times, you can naturally reach the highest state. The method discussed by Wuyuanzi still belongs to the lineage of the Earthly Immortals, as Master Qiongguan said: “Its method is elaborate and difficult; success is not easy.” The method I describe belongs to the lineage of the Celestial Immortals: “Take the body as lead, the mind as mercury, stillness as water, and wisdom as fire.” Look closely at the timing and regulation of the fire in practice, and the key lies entirely in centering and harmony. This method speaks neither of hexagrams nor of weights and measures.]

The Wuzhen Pian says, “First take Qian and Kun as the cauldron and vessel; then gather the medicines of the Crow and Rabbit and refine them. Once these two medicines enter the Yellow Path, how could the Golden Elixir fail to form?” It also says, “In the crescent-moon furnace, a jade bud appears; in the cinnabar cauldron, mercury is brought to rest.” From this we can see that understanding the furnace and cauldron is the first essential of cultivation. Without them, where can the medicines be gathered? And where can the Golden Elixir be refined?

The furnace and cauldron described here are not external vessels made of bronze, iron, or clay, nor objects found in a woman’s bedchamber. They refer to the furnace of creation through which the Dao gives birth to the myriad things, and to the cauldron of its numinous radiance.

The ancients took Qian as the cauldron and Kun as the furnace, drawing on Qian’s strength and vigor and Kun’s yielding receptivity. The “crescent-moon furnace” and “cinnabar cauldron” likewise describe the harmonizing of Yin and Yang, of strength and softness: the crescent moon symbolizes Yang arising within Yin, while cinnabar symbolizes Yin contained within Yang. Yin can temper Yang, and Yang can temper Yin. Only when strength and softness come together do they form the true furnace and cauldron of Daoist cultivation. To seek a furnace and cauldron apart from the principle of harmonizing Yin and Yang, strength and softness, is to stray from the right path.

The alchemical crucible and vessel—a term in Neidan cultivation that metaphorically refers to the conditions for refining and nurturing—also take different forms. There is one crucible and vessel for refining the Returning Elixir, and another for refining the Great Elixir. For the Returning Elixir, Heaven and Earth (Qian and Kun) serve as the crucible and vessel, while the Crow and Hare, symbols of the sun and moon, serve as the ingredients. For the Great Elixir, emptiness serves as the crucible and vessel, and the One Qi as the ingredient. This is the distinction between the Returning Elixir and the Great Elixir.

Yet in cultivating the Returning Elixir, there is also the Kan-Li crucible and vessel, with Kan and Li symbolizing water and fire. These must be clearly distinguished as early as possible. This kind of crucible and vessel is most crucial. Without understanding it, even if one knows that Heaven and Earth serve as the crucible and vessel, one cannot immediately form the Golden Elixir.

Why is this so? The crescent-moon furnace is where true fire arises, while the cinnabar cauldron is where true water arises. Once you understand these two kinds of crucible and vessel, you can use water to harmonize fire, bringing water and fire together in one chamber. The primordial Qi, the original Qi that exists before acquired discriminating consciousness takes shape, then comes from emptiness and naturally congeals into the chamber of the utmost subtlety, the inner space where the elixir is nurtured. Once this treasure has congealed, place it in the cauldron of emptiness and set it in motion with natural true fire. Substance can then arise from what has no substance, and form from what has no form. When Shen and Qi are complete, the sacred embryo—the term for the elixir body formed through Neidan cultivation—takes shape and emerges. At this stage, even the crucible and vessel of emptiness are no longer needed.

As for the cultivation secrets of a still higher level, they have their own crucible and vessel and cannot be obtained through words. Alas, the crucible and vessel originally have no crucible and vessel, and the furnace is not truly a furnace. People in the world have understood neither of the two words “body” and “mind.”

[Commentary] The whole passage discusses profound and mysterious principles, yet expresses them with great clarity. At the end, it points to the two words “body” and “mind.” Without orally transmitted instructions, how could one know the secrets of a higher level? Since Master Wuyuan has already pointed them out directly, students should naturally grasp their meaning.

He speaks of Qian and Kun, Kan and Li, and emptiness. At the “crescent-moon point,” he identifies the place where true fire arises; at the “cinnabar point,” the place where true water arises. He also says: “Understand this cauldron and furnace—a metaphor for refining and nourishing body and mind. Use water to harmonize fire, bringing water and fire together in one chamber. Then primordial Qi will arise spontaneously from emptiness and condense into the supreme treasure. Once the treasure has condensed, place it in the cauldron and furnace of emptiness and refine it with natural true fire. Let what has no substance acquire substance, and what has no form reveal a form. When Shen and Qi are abundant and the body is complete, the sacred embryo—the pure Yang body attained through cultivation—will emerge, and even the cauldron and furnace of emptiness will no longer be needed.”

Wuyuanzi has explained the principles fully, and goes on to make the point still clearer: “In the end, it comes down to body and mind.” The higher stage of cultivation he describes has another kind of cauldron and furnace: follow the generative transformation of primordial Qi, and Qi itself will transform in turn, until body and mind return to emptiness, with no distinctions at all. In the state the ancients called “shattering emptiness,” what cauldron, furnace, or timing of the fire could there be?

Wuyuanzi understood this well, and so said: “There is no cauldron within the cauldron, and no furnace within the furnace.” As for the method of cultivation, it still comes down to “clinging neither to being nor nonbeing, and maintaining stillness and movement alike.” Thus, when Jing and Qi gather, they can condense into a body; when they disperse, they transform back into Qi.

The Inner and Outer Timing of the Fire

The ancient immortals said: “True fire has no fixed timing, and the great medicine is not measured by weight.” The Wuzhen Pian says: “Even if you understand cinnabar and black lead, without understanding the timing of the fire, it is all in vain. In the end, everything depends on the work of cultivation; the slightest error, and the Elixir cannot be refined.” These sayings all concern the timing of the fire.

Later readers did not understand the purpose behind the ancients’ words. Some fixated on the phrase “the true fire has no fixed timing,” and ended up either falling into quiescent extinction or becoming oblivious to their bodily form. Others fixated on “not knowing the fire timing is also to be at ease.” Not understanding why the ancients said this, they became doubtful about specific hours and turned to the mistaken belief that medicinal substances should be gathered according to the year, month, day, and hour. Still others were puzzled by what seemed to be contradictions in the scripture, yet refused to investigate further. Alas! The ancients each had a subtle purpose in their way of speaking. Though their wording differed, their meaning was the same.

“The true fire has no fixed timing” means that the true fire—the intention and movement of Qi used in Neidan cultivation—has no set, unchanging moment. When the Yang Qi begins to emerge, advance Yang; when the Yin Qi begins to emerge, withdraw Yin. It does not mean that the true fire runs continuously with no timing at all.

“Not knowing the fire timing is also to be at ease” means that applying the fire timing still depends on the appropriate moment. The practitioner first refines the self—cultivating the mind and nature and settling oneself—and waits for Yang Qi to emerge. When Yang arises, that is the moment to advance the fire; when Yin arises, that is the moment to withdraw Yin. This does not mean acting at fixed times set by the calendar.

“Has no fixed timing” and “one must know the timing” point to the same essential principle. The Rujing says: “Within a single day there are twelve double-hours; wherever the mind and intention reach, there one may act.” This means that the moment when Yin or Yang arrives may arise during any of the twelve double-hours. Anticipate and discern these changes: when Yang comes, advance Yang; when Yin comes, withdraw Yin. The arrival of either Yin or Yang is a moment when one may act. The scripture makes this quite clear; why parse it any further?

In Neidan (internal alchemy) practice, “fire timing” (huohou) takes many forms: inner and outer fire timing; the timing for gathering the medicinal substances, refining them, combining the Elixir, forming the Elixir, warming and nourishing it, releasing it, and taking it; the timing for forming and releasing the embryo, cultivating nature and life; and the timing of gentle cooking and vigorous refining. The terms are numerous, but what matters is judging the measure precisely: discerning whether the fire should stop or continue, whether it is too weak or too strong, and adapting its use to the moment without the slightest error. Ah! The key lies in grasping the moment of the “full moon”; when the “zi hour” (one of the traditional divisions of the day) arrives, the subtle art is transmitted from teacher to student, heart to heart. How could the mysteries of fire timing be easy to understand?

Some people today do not realize how subtle fire timing is. They seize on the ancients’ saying that “a word or two can open the mystery” and conclude that fire timing needs no explanation at all and cannot be taught. They fail to understand that the wonder of “a word or two” lies in a wise teacher whispering close to the student’s ear and pointing out one secret of Heaven’s workings. It does not mean that fire timing itself can be fully conveyed in just a few words.

Every craft in the world has many rules. How much more so a great undertaking that concerns the cultivation of nature and life: how could it be fully understood from only a word or two? Why do those who study the Dao not think this through carefully?

[Commentary] The explanation here is exceptionally detailed and indeed describes the methods of the earthly immortals, practitioners who have achieved success in cultivation. From what I have heard, the key is to understand the timing and discern the fire. One who recognizes the moment and knows the proper stage can advance or withdraw in due measure: using gentle fire when gentle fire is called for, and vigorous fire when vigorous fire is called for. In this way, nothing will be amiss. How to maintain and care for the process is up to the Dao practitioner.

Eliminate restless activity without erasing awareness. When the moment for cultivation arrives, you will naturally perceive it. Adjust flexibly to the circumstances at hand so that body and mind attain equilibrium. The mind should not cling to one extreme; what matters is recognizing the moment as it passes, without strain. If you pursue stillness single-mindedly until you sink into blankness and dullness, you may not know when the time has come or notice when the opportunity for cultivation appears. This can cause great harm. If you can truly settle your attention in quietude and make the mind open and clear, you can preserve awareness without deliberately observing. A spark of clarity remains present throughout. How could you miss the moment, or allow the opportunity to be obscured?

If you set this essential teaching aside and pursue other methods, then even if you understand the trigrams, the line statements, and the like, the methods will become complicated and trivial, disturbing body and mind and making it difficult to ensure that not a single error occurs. The orthodox lineage that honors the Way of the Supreme One (Taishang) sets all of this aside. It takes “attaining emptiness” and “attaining unity”—making the mind empty, still, and concentrated—as its foundation, and uses equilibrium, harmony, clarity, and calm as its principles of practice. Chen and Bai, the two patriarchs of the Southern School, are said to have received the endorsement of Zhong and Lü, the teachers of the Lü School. Chen criticized the book Awakening to Reality (Wuzhen) for “not applying the mind universally.” Bai’s inscription praising an image of Ziyang also contains a criticism: his phrase “still carrying something of lead and mercury” refers to this point. Lead and mercury are common symbolic terms in Neidan cultivation.

These teachings, however, must be contemplated carefully, with their essential meaning understood gradually through quiet reflection. Once their central principles are fully clear, and you have also reached the utmost emptiness and stillness without losing lucid awareness, you will certainly recognize the moment when it comes and know when the opportunity for cultivation appears. How could the various stages of the firing process—the discernment of timing and advance or withdrawal in cultivation—not conform to their proper measure? The Lü School’s fundamental aim is simply to return single-mindedly to the precelestial state, bring cultivation to equilibrium, and preserve the essential teaching transmitted from the heart.

Some people say that oral instructions consist of only one or two sentences: secret methods passed on in a low voice, with the teacher leaning close to the student’s ear. They worry that stating them openly may cause later students to become suspicious and stray onto unorthodox paths. This claim deserves careful examination; it is not, in fact, an accurate one. In my view, the Confucian teaching called “Unity”—the principle that runs through beginning and end—is also expressed in just one sentence. Perhaps it is a subtle insight that dawns suddenly when one is close to completing one’s studies. It is also a supreme principle.

Even if a teacher really does speak close to a student’s ear, it must be because the student is sitting upright before the teacher and has encountered an obstacle at a crucial point in practice. The teacher notices the student’s expression and then offers guidance. The teacher cannot speak loudly for fear of startling the student; this does not mean the teacher intends to pass on secret methods in private. Students should not misunderstand. This passage is important, so I cannot leave it unexplained.

The Other’s House and My Own

The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality), an internal alchemy text written by Zhang Boduan in the Northern Song, says: “Do not treat contrived tricks and artifice as your practice; recognize the deathless formula that comes from the other’s house.” It also says: “This treasure is found in every household, but fools cannot fully recognize it.” Both statements point to the source from which the precelestial medicine—the precelestial essence and Qi spoken of in internal alchemy practice—arises.

Later generations failed to understand the hidden meaning of the ancients. Seeing the words “the other’s house” and “every household,” they guessed that these referred to women and so took up the path of bedroom alchemy: interpreting or practicing alchemical methods through sexual union between men and women. Their conduct became corrupt, they committed all kinds of sins, and they sank to the level of beasts. Their numbers are beyond counting. How could they know that precelestial Qi comes from nothingness? How could it be sought in things that have form and appearance?

Human beings receive precelestial Qi, and their bodies take shape with the help of their parents’ vital essence and blood. The body therefore already contains this precelestial Qi. Yet this Qi grows day and night; when Yang Qi reaches its height, it turns into Yin. Yang Qi in the Qian Palace (the direction or state symbolizing pure Yang) flows into the Kun Palace (the direction or state symbolizing pure Yin). Qian then becomes hollow and turns into the Li trigram, while Kun becomes solid and turns into the Kan trigram. “Li” means that Yang Qi has departed; “Kan” means that True Yang has sunk within it. Since Yang Qi has sunk into Yin, it no longer belongs to “me,” and is therefore called “the other’s house.”

Wuzhen (Wuzhen pian, a Daoist classic on internal alchemy) says: “To know where the medicine arises, look only to the southwest; there lies its source.” Here, “southwest” refers to the Kun position, one of the directional positions of the Eight Trigrams (Bagua). It symbolizes the point where Yin energy reaches its utmost and Yang energy begins to emerge.

Ziye says: “The medicine appears in the Kun position in the southwest. How can you seek the Kun position apart from the human body? The principle has already been made clear. Remember it well, for when you encounter it, you may fail to recognize it.” The person spoken of here is called the “Immortal Person,” or the “True Person,” one who has attained mastery in the Dao. An ancient immortal said: “If you wish to make a person immortal, seek the Immortal Person.” The “Immortal Person” is the “immortal formula in the other’s house”—that is, the key to seeking longevity through cultivation.

“My house” refers to one’s own True Yang, the innate Yang energy, having dispersed; this is why the Li trigram represents “me.” “The other’s house” refers to True Yang being confined by Yin energy; this is why the Kan trigram represents “the other.” The distinction between Kan and Li gives rise to the terms “the other” and “me.” This distinction applies only while Yang energy has not yet returned. Once it has returned, “the other is me, and I am the other”: the two are in fact one, with no distinction between them.

The Yellow Crane Ode says: “Imitating the way men and women conceive and give birth, one must set the celestial mechanism—the marvel of natural generation—in motion.” This statement reveals a celestial secret. “Imitating” and “revealing” here use worldly language to disclose the Daoist method; they do not refer to sexual intercourse. “The other and I” refers to the relationship between Kan and Li in Daoist cultivation. Later generations, failing to understand the subtle intent behind the ancients’ wording, mistook “the other’s house” to mean an outside person and went on to behave like animals, bringing disgrace upon the Daoist tradition. Such people may not even earn the chance to be reborn as human beings in a future life. How, then, could they hope to become immortals?

In alchemical writings, “other and self” describes the relationship of Yin and Yang; “host and guest” describes how they are used; “inversion” describes attraction and drawing in; “being and nonbeing” describes movement and stillness; “dragon and tiger” describes nature and emotions; and “lead and mercury” describes what floats and what sinks. At root, all these expressions concern Yin and Yang. Look deeper, and they all concern nature and life; in truth, they also all concern one’s own body and mind.

Some people in the world, deluded by their innate dispositions and burdened with sins, do not understand the great Dao of the sages. They treat women as external objects of cultivation, regard a girl’s first menstruation as a supreme treasure, and take plums to be an elixir of immortality. What they practice is not the sages’ Way; it is a slander of that Way. As the scriptures say, they will fall into the hell where tongues are torn out.

Alas! There is something found in every household that no one can claim as their own, because its workings are invisible. To seek it, the key is to possess “Dharma wealth”: the teachings and provisions needed to cultivate the Way. One must seek it within “the Divine Continent and Red County,” an old name for China, because what can be seen cannot necessarily be put to use. What can be used is invisible; what can be seen may not be usable. If you do not possess it within yourself, how could another person put it to use? If it cannot be discerned within, why seek it outside? How could anyone know this secret without mastering Yin and Yang, understanding the transformations of creation, and recognizing the “primordial One Qi of the precelestial,” the original Qi that Daoism says precedes the formed world?

Commentary: Wu Yuanzi points out that this passage directly dispels layer upon layer of delusion and makes a considerable contribution to clarifying the arcane teachings.

The Supplementary Evidence for Discerning Difficulties in Cultivating the Real holds that Wuyuanzi’s explanations break through layers of obscurity and have made a substantial contribution to Daoist learning. Unfortunately, he did not clarify the precise meanings of the words “method” and “person” in the phrase “method of immortality.” Wuyuanzi revered and trusted the ancients, but could not explain the matter clearly. Perhaps the ancient sages concealed the principles too deeply: they were not thorough in their intent, revealing something while leaving the rest unsaid, and thereby misleading later students. The author says this was also why Patriarch Zhang suffered Heaven’s punishment three times. People today mistakenly believe he was rebuked for recklessly revealing secrets, and regard him as the Chicken-Foot Daoist, a Perfected One who remained in the world.

The Daoist explains that the “method of immortality” mentioned in the Wuzhen pian is the “Red District of the Divine Continent” spoken of by Bodhidharma, also called the “Palace of the Great Red Heaven” in the Daoist Canon. The phrase “person who does not leave it,” used by Ziye, refers to the “people of the Great Red Heaven”; hence the term “Perfected Person.”

The “Palace of the Great Red Heaven” mentioned here is the place where the human origin resides: a person’s fundamental primordial Qi, the root of life. When this human origin is depleted, it must be restored by seeking it there. In terms of the body, this place lies between the heart and abdomen. The statements in the text and the place Bodhidharma sought therefore both point to the same location.

In principle, humans bear Heaven and stand upon Earth. In terms of direction, Kun lies due north in the pre-Heaven Bagua, and southwest in the post-Heaven Bagua. The ancient sages apparently believed that the human origin was attached to the Kun position, and so called it the “immortal person of the Kun direction.”

In addition, the Falu—the talismans and documents used in Daoist magic and ritual—calls Qian the “Heavenly Gate,” Gen the “Earthly Portal,” Xun the “Ghost Road,” and Kun the “Human Gate.” Those who study the Dao can grasp the meaning from this. This account comes from the Lü school, and the author cites it to supplement what the preceding discussion had not yet explained.

The Wuzhen pian says, “The White Tiger’s first menstrual flow is the most precious treasure.” It also says, “When Lead encounters the first arising of Gui Water, it must be gathered at once.” Both passages refer to the “first menstrual flow” as the innate, primordial Qi of unity. The White Tiger belongs to the West and corresponds to the Dui trigram and to Metal among the Five Phases. “First” refers to the primordial Qi inherited from the beginning; “flow” refers to its constant course of movement.

The primordial Qi is hidden within the Kan trigram, trapped by Yin Qi and unable to reveal itself on its own. The Dui trigram symbolizes the youngest daughter. It contains the true Earth of the Kun palace, which can act in the mother’s place and stir the Yang Qi within Kan, causing it to return to Kun and appear as the “first menstrual flow.” This is also called the “crescent moon of the third day,” the “heart of Heaven and Earth,” “innate Qi,” or “true Lead.” When Yin reaches its utmost, stillness at its deepest gives rise to movement, and Yang Qi has just begun to return. This is the constant course of the primordial Qi, hence the name “first menstrual flow.” “First menstrual flow” describes it in terms of its essence, while “Lead encounters the birth of Gui” describes it in terms of its function.

The “Lead” in question is King Water. Ren Water is clear; Gui Water is turbid. When Ren Water first arises, it is clear and bright like a dewdrop, yet difficult to obtain and easy to lose. As soon as it appears, it must be seized. Any slight delay allows Gui Water to arise. Once Gui Water appears, King Water goes into hiding and falls into the postcelestial state, where it is no longer suitable for the practitioner to gather. To gather King Water is to obtain the true “first menstrual flow.”

This “first menstrual flow” comes into being before the postcelestial, yet can persist within it; Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things are generated from it. Following its transformations leads to death; reversing them opens a path back to life. Becoming an immortal or remaining an ordinary person depends on this. Immortals and ordinary people were originally no different. But when Yang Qi develops to its utmost, it gives rise to Yin Qi, and the Yang within the Qian trigram shifts into the Kun palace: the middle of Qian becomes empty, turning it into Li; the middle of Kun becomes full, turning it into Kan. The primordial Qian and Kun thus become the postcelestial Kan and Li, and the true “first menstrual flow” lies hidden.

Great adepts—those who have attained mastery in cultivation—use a method to gather and refine this “First Jing” within the space of one double-hour, causing it to congeal into an elixir called the Golden Elixir. It is said that taking the Golden Elixir can restore youth and grant immortality. From this we can see that the Golden Elixir is the “First Jing”: before refinement it is called the First Jing, and after refinement it is called the Golden Elixir. They are in fact one and the same, not two different things.

In later generations, some confused people failed to understand the profound meaning of the ancestral masters and mistakenly took the First Jing to mean the menstrual blood of a girl having her first period at age fourteen. Alas, the First Jing does not refer to that kind of blood, but to the purest and clearest “Jing” spoken of by the sages. “Jing” means a path, and a path is the Dao. The character “Dao” is made up of the components “head,” “step,” and “stop”; “step” and “stop” symbolize Qi in motion and at rest. Is not the root of Qi what is called the “First Jing”? Thus, the Dao is the First Jing, and the First Jing is the Dao.

The First Jing spoken of here has no form or image, no sound or smell. Any attempt to compare it to a concrete thing will lead one astray; words and discussion cannot express it accurately. It cannot be drawn, but can only be understood through the heart. It is therefore not the turbid menstrual blood of common understanding.

“Five thousand and forty,” too, has no sound or smell. To compare it to a concrete thing would be inaccurate, while discussing it in words would lose its original meaning. It cannot be drawn, but can only be understood through the heart. Clearly, this does not refer to turbid menstrual blood.

The expression “five thousand and forty-eight Yellow Path” refers to the mystery of Yin reaching its utmost and Yang beginning to emerge, as primordial Qi rises again. It does not designate a fixed period of fourteen years. Fourteen years comprise five thousand and forty days; where, then, should the remaining eight days be placed?

“Five” is the generating number of Earth, “a thousand tens” is its completing number, and “four” is the generating number of Metal. Earth corresponds to the Kun trigram, and Metal to the Dui trigram. The movement from Dui to Kun symbolizes Yin reaching its utmost and Yang beginning to emerge. “In the southwest, find a companion; the moon appears in the direction of Geng” describes precisely this process. Is it not speaking of the beginning of the circulation of the menstrual Qi?

The “eighth day” refers to the moon’s first quarter, when it reaches the waxing half-moon. The Qi of Metal and Water is then equally divided, Yin and Yang are in harmony, and the moon stands at the very center of the Yellow Path. This symbolizes Yang arising within Yin, with Yang circulating and returning to the middle course. Understood this way, it accords exactly with the teaching of the “five thousand and forty-eight Yellow Path.” The eighth day is one day beyond the seventh: the cycles of Heaven and Earth renew themselves after seven days. When Yin reaches its utmost and Yang is born, the eighth day follows the seventh; Yang circulates and gradually grows, returning to the middle course. This, too, accords with the teaching.

The “eighth day” can also be understood as “three and five joining”: when three joins with five, Yang is pure and unified, and Qi is whole and undivided, centered and without deviation. It is like the full moon on the fifteenth, its light complete as it travels at the center of Heaven and Earth. This likewise accords with the teaching of the “five thousand and forty-eight Yellow Path.” Renewal after seven days, the waxing half-moon on the eighth day, and the joining of three and five all describe stillness reaching its utmost and turning into movement, as Yang begins to circulate. This is the beginning indicated by the term “Yellow Path.”

The ancestral masters spoke in profound and weighty terms. How can we make careless conjectures based on the worldly claim that women have their first menstruation at fourteen? A woman’s first menstruation at fourteen belongs to Yang reaching its height and turning into the birth of Yin; it is not Yang arising when Yin reaches its utmost. Blood belongs to Yin, and the flow of menstrual blood is a sign that Yin is emerging and manifesting. How could one mistake this visible substance, menstrual blood, for primordial, pure Qi?

The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality), a Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) classic, says: “When bamboo is split, it should be mended with bamboo; to hatch a chick, one should use an egg.” The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three), a Daoist alchemical classic, says: “Things of the same kind are easy to work with; when they are not of the same kind, it is difficult to achieve success with skill.”

This means that if something in my own innate foundation has been depleted, I must replenish it with what is innate within me. Only then is it truly a seed of the same kind. If the foundation of my nature and life is unstable, I must likewise draw on what belongs to my own nature and life to restore it. This is what makes it something of the same kind, and makes the work easy to carry out. If I abandon what I originally possess and seek instead what belongs to someone else, how could that count as a true seed of the same kind?

Everyone has their own nature and life. Another person’s nature and life cannot be given to me, just as mine cannot be given to another. This is self-evident. If a man could attain the Dao by obtaining a woman’s first menstrual blood, why could a woman not attain longevity by obtaining a man’s semen? If a man must rely on a woman to cultivate the Dao, then a woman must surely rely on a man as well. This, too, is self-evident.

I urge my fellow practitioners to fill in the pit of wrongdoing without delay, open their eyes, distinguish the deviant from the orthodox, and see right and wrong clearly. Accumulate De (virtue) and do good, as a lasting plan for the future. Do not try to make a living in a state of delusion, and do not search for a pearl in a pitch-black barrel.

[Supplementary Commentary] Well said! This argument is like a seasoned magistrate passing judgment on a case: not a single word can be changed. Hang it on the gates of the capital, and who would dare say otherwise? On the strength of this essay alone, its author would surely be revered as a leader among the immortals. It is a pity that when he discusses the “true seed of the same kind,” his perspective is still too narrow and his explanation too limited. It seems that he has not yet received the full transmission from a true master on the work of the level of emptiness.

Human beings stand alongside Heaven and Earth as the “Three Powers,” all brought forth by the primordial, true One—the original Qi that precedes Heaven. Seen through the principle that things of the same kind communicate with one another, Heaven, Earth, humanity, and the myriad things ultimately all share a single Qi: the One divides into three, and the three return to the One. Even when a person’s body has suffered depletion because Yang Qi is excessively abundant, replenishment should be sought at the shared source from which the Three Powers arose. The ancients said, “Mend bamboo with bamboo”: when bamboo is damaged, it should be repaired with something of its own kind. If we do not seek the common origin of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, where else could we find restoration?

Once you understand this principle, you should never depart from the true One. Use the single Qi to seek a return to unity, just as the mind can direct the body. The Qi of the true One descends of its own accord and nourishes the body. After depletion, what could be so difficult to repair? It is only because people are deluded: they follow external things and chase after mere branches and leaves, not knowing how to return to the root and restore the origin. Thus Yin Qi gradually grows while Yang Qi gradually wanes.

Since Wuyuanzi understood the subtle art of return, why did he not fully exercise his wisdom, persevere day after day, and set an example for the world through his own practice? Begin by verifying it within yourself: when the Yin Qi in the body is exhausted, the Yang Qi becomes pure. In cultivation, make a hundred times the effort of others and persist without wavering. Move from forcing yourself to persevere, to doing so with ease and composure; then, from composure, advance toward attainment. Do not dismiss small gains or rush to succeed. Persist from each moment to each hour, each day, each month, and each year. Why seek some other method of practice?

Mountains, rivers, and the earth—there is nowhere that is not a cauldron. Every living being is a medicinal substance. How should one gather the medicine, condense it, cook and refine it, and nurture it with warmth, so that it may come into being and undergo transformation, continuing until the void is shattered? Wuyuanzi has already grasped these principles and been charged with putting them into practice. Would it not be deeply gratifying if he could set an example for the world through his actions? Do not say that his virtue is not yet sufficiently lofty. There are also three books titled Books for Healing the World, which can be promoted alongside this work without conflicting with it. Alas, someone as self-respecting and self-cherishing as Wuyuanzi has attained such a level of learning. Though the cosmos is vast, could there be even two or three people of such resolve and virtue as Wuyuanzi? During the Qianlong and Jiaqing reigns, several venerable immortals dwelt in Tushen, yet Wuyuanzi never met a single one of them. I truly do not understand why. I write these words to remind myself.

Subduing and Refining the Nine Cauldrons

The Cantong (Zhouyi Cantongqi, a Daoist alchemical classic) says: “The sages of old held the primordial Qi in their hearts and kept to their true nature. They devoted themselves to refining and nurturing the Nine Cauldrons, and when their work was complete, they concealed their traces.” The ancient immortals also said: “Subduing the breath does not mean swallowing it. To take in the breath, one must first subdue it. Taking in the breath alone cannot bring long life; to attain long life, one must first subdue the breath.” These are key teachings in the alchemical scriptures, yet later generations did not understand them. Those who practiced ingestion techniques used the Nine Cauldrons to refine medicines; those who practiced chamber alchemy transformed nine women and gathered their Qi. Alas, how could the essential meaning of the “Nine Cauldrons” refer to iron cauldrons or women’s cauldrons? To mistake them for iron cauldrons or women’s cauldrons is to turn the heavenly ladder by which the patriarchs guided the world into a pass to the underworld. How lamentable.

“Subduing and ingesting” means subduing and refining innate Qi until it fills the abdomen; it does not mean ingesting elixirs made from minerals, herbs, and trees. The “Nine Cauldrons” refers to the nine revolutions of the Golden Elixir, reaching a state of pure Yang without Yin. It does not mean replacing nine cauldrons over a furnace fire, nor does it mean using nine women, as in chamber alchemy.

Primordial Qi—the source energy that existed before Heaven and Earth separated and before the myriad things came into being—cannot be seen, heard, or grasped by hand. The “abdomen” mentioned here does not mean taking medicines made from minerals, plants, or other substances. The “Nine Cauldrons” refers to the Golden Elixir perfected through nine transformations, reaching a state of pure Yang without Yin. It does not mean replacing nine cauldrons over a furnace fire, nor does it refer to the use of nine women in the alchemical method known as “women’s elixir.”

Primordial Qi cannot be seen, heard, or grasped. Like dew or lightning, it comes and goes without a trace: hard to obtain and easy to lose. The perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, uses the substantial to make the insubstantial, and transforms the formed into the formless. Years of accumulation are condensed into a month, a month into a day, and a day into one double-hour. Within that double-hour, one seizes the vital energy of three thousand six hundred years and turns back the pivotal cycle of the seventy-two pentads, the seasonal units of five days used in ancient times. One gathers and subdues this point of primordial true Yang, brings it into the furnace of creation, and condenses it into a sacred embryo. This is called “ingesting what has been subdued.”

Once the sacred embryo has formed, natural true fire is applied to refine away all remaining Yin and reveal the countenance of Qianyuan, the source of pure Yang. In this way, one cultivates an indestructible substance like vajra, called the “Great Elixir of Nine Transformations.” This is called “refining the Nine Cauldrons by subduing them.” All of this cultivation takes place within oneself: after the embryo has formed, natural true fire refines away the remaining Yin, reveals the original aspect of Qianyuan, and cultivates an indestructible substance like vajra. This is the Great Elixir of Nine Transformations, also called refining the Nine Cauldrons by subduing them. It condenses from the void, has no male or female form, and does not depend on the human body or constitution. Thus the ancient immortals said, “Originally, there is no cauldron within the cauldron, and no medicine within the medicine.” The furnace, cauldron, and medicinal substances described in the scriptures borrow images of heating and refining in a furnace to explain the method of cultivating the Golden Elixir; actual furnaces, cauldrons, and medicines are not involved.

The Golden Elixir (the perfected state sought through Neidan cultivation) is Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), the source from which all things emerge before they divide and Yin-Yang takes shape. Taiji contains a single Qi. When this Qi moves, Yang arises; when it settles, Yin arises. Movement at its extreme must turn into stillness, and stillness at its extreme must turn into movement. When Yang reaches its peak, it turns into Yin; when Yin reaches its peak, it turns into Yang. Yin and Yang depend on one another and are each other’s root. From this come the Four Images, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), the sexagenary cycle, and all things in the world. This is the way creation and transformation proceed in accordance with the natural order of change.

To fully realize one’s nature and fulfill one’s life, one must go beyond the natural course of creation and transformation: transform the changes of life and death, reverse the Five Phases, turn back the movement of Qi (the flow of energy within the body), return to the undivided Qi of primordial chaos, and restore Taiji to its original state. How could such work be accomplished by a tangible furnace and vessel?

To refine the Golden Elixir is to fulfill the aim of realizing Taiji in its completeness. Taiji is a complete whole, yet when completeness reaches its extreme, it may begin to diminish; cultivation is therefore needed to preserve it. Taiji itself has never been diminished; diminution appears only when Yin and Yang divide. To restore Taiji to wholeness, one must first harmonize Yin and Yang. When Yin and Yang merge and a single Qi circulates, one returns to Taiji’s original state of undivided unity. This is called “gathering the medicine and refining the Elixir.”

Because the “medicine” that is gathered must be mixed and transformed, the place that holds and blends it is called the “vessel.” Because the medicine must be refined, the place of refinement is called the “furnace.” Since it becomes true through refinement and endures without decay, it is called the “Golden Elixir.” In fact, “vessel,” “furnace,” and “Golden Elixir” are all borrowed names and symbols used to make the underlying principles clear. Since these names and images have no literal existence, how could there be any base and perverse practice that makes a woman the vessel and the body the furnace?

Alas! Ever since I learned the secret of long life, I have searched the seas year after year for a kindred spirit. Yet I do not know who can truly understand me. Still, let anyone who will try to grasp this wild talk with an attentive heart.

The Canzheng says: “This book’s analysis is exceptionally penetrating and greatly benefits the study of the arcane. It contains subtle principles capable of turning the workings of Heaven and Earth. The key to entering the teaching lies in the opening passages on ‘the ancient immortals’ and related matters; the most crucial instructions are the four verses at the end; and the central method of the entire text is ‘transforming traces and withdrawing into obscurity’—erasing one’s traces and remaining concealed. In essence, what it teaches is simply to embrace primordial Qi and preserve one’s original nature.

“Primordial” is the source of “the One,” while “the One” governs the primordial. Without the One, the primordial dissipates; without the primordial, the One cannot endure. This is what it means to embrace primordial Qi and preserve one’s original nature. To preserve one’s original nature so that primordial Qi transforms into the One: this is the method of cultivation. Its subtle workings conceal the meaning of using appearances as a means to return to one’s true nature.

“The way that is like this yet not like this, not like this yet like this, and in truth has no such ‘this’ at all” means that attachment to both sides dissolves at once. Those able to understand this must possess complete De to encounter it. Since ancient times, kindred understanding has been hard to find—a source of deep regret.

The Mysterious Pass and Its Single Opening

The scripture says: “The Daoist tradition has 3,600 methods of practice, and everyone clings to one fundamental path of their own. Know that the point of the Mysterious Pass and its key opening is not among those 3,600 methods.”

The “Mysterious Pass and its single opening” is an exceedingly profound and subtle gateway. It is where life and death are distinguished, and where ordinary people and sages part ways. Since ancient times, this has been a secret transmitted from master to master, generation after generation; it cannot be understood through guesswork. Later generations of those who study the Dao, if they do not meet a true teacher, may mistake the nostrils, the space between the eyebrows, the anterior fontanel (the suture at the front of the crown), Baihui (the acupoint at the crown of the head), the throat, the spine between the shoulder blades, the coccyx, the heart aperture, or places such as the Yellow Court (a site within the body used in Daoist Neidan cultivation), the Dantian (energy center), Guanyuan, and the Sea of Qi for the Mysterious Pass and its single opening meant here. None of these is the Mysterious Pass and its single opening spoken of in this text.

The so-called “Mysterious Pass” has no shape and no fixed location. It is neither something nor nothing, so how could one say that it lies in a particular direction? If it is regarded as something with a location that can be pinpointed, it becomes a visible, formed thing and can no longer be called the Mysterious Pass.

This aperture is not attached to the physical body, yet it does not leave the body. To say that it is not attached to the body means that it is not any tangible thing; to say that it does not leave the body means that it cannot be sought outside the body. It is neither an external thing nor an internal one. Thus it is said to lie where inside and outside do not apply, a place that holds a special heavenly secret.

The ancients did not dare to write this meaning out plainly, yet they did not wish to keep it entirely secret. So they used many names to evoke it, such as “the Abode of Life and Death,” “the Gate of the Mysterious Female,” “the Altar of Dragon and Tiger,” “the Aperture of Tortoise and Snake,” “the Gate of Wu and Ji,” “the Pass of Life and Death,” “the Gate of Punishment and Virtue,” “the Portal of Yin and Yang,” “the Gate of the Myriad Wonders,” “the Palace of the Rarefied and the Subtle,” “the Ground of Immortals and Buddhas,” “the Aperture of Nature and Life,” “the Chamber of the Original Spirit,” “the Cavity of the Void Origin,” and “the Land of Awe-Inspiring Sound.” These different names all refer to the same aperture.

Perfected Ziyang (Zhang Boduan, a Daoist Neidan practitioner) said: “This aperture is no ordinary aperture; Heaven and Earth together have formed it. It is called the cavity of spirit and Qi; within it lie the essences of Kan and Li.” Here, “Kan and Li” refer to the water and fire trigrams in the Book of Changes. In Neidan terminology, they are often used to symbolize Yin-Yang Qi. These words have already revealed the heavenly secret of the Mysterious Pass, but regrettably, people have failed to grasp their meaning.

Today, Master Wuyuan spares no effort to bring the Patriarch’s thought vividly to life once more. He expounds what the Patriarch left unsaid and reveals what remained undisclosed. Through inner contemplation and heartfelt accord, he tells his fellow cultivators:

“This opening resembles the immortal realm of Penglai: narrow on the outside, vast within, and unfathomably deep. It is neither round nor square; black and white join, and darkness connects with light. Its entrance is five zhang high and four chi wide, with two doors, one opening and one closing. A Green Dragon coils to the left, a White Tiger lies to the right, a Vermilion Bird flies above, and a Black Tortoise—a divine creature formed of a tortoise and a serpent—crouches below. In its indistinct depths dwells a Realized One named the Spirit of the Valley, honored as the Long-Lived Elder. By day he eats millet porridge; by night he drinks the wine of primordial chaos. Sometimes he gives voice to a chant; sometimes he presses his lips shut. With each exhalation, the opening’s gate swings wide; with each inhalation, it closes.

“That is why the Dao De Jing says: ‘The Spirit of the Valley never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female. The gateway of the Mysterious Female is called the root of Heaven and Earth.’ This opening is the source from which Heaven, Earth, and humanity are born, and the home to which sages, Buddhas, and immortals return. Setting up the furnace and cauldron, gathering the ingredients and refining them, forming and releasing the Elixir, and the methods of cultivation involving both action and Wuwei (non-action) all take place here.

“Yet this opening does not lie among the ‘Four Greats’ that constitute the human body—earth, water, fire, and wind. It rests in a realm of stillness and emptiness. Seek it with intention, and it cannot be found; seek it with no intention at all, and it still cannot be attained. Cultivators must first search for this opening and come to truly know it. Only then can they begin to obtain the ‘Heavenly Treasure’—the precious essence and Qi of Neidan cultivation. Without understanding this opening, even the most diligent practice will ultimately bring no progress. Should those who study the Dao not spur themselves on and devote themselves to investigating its principles?”

After careful examination, comparing this debate with teachings passed down through a teacher’s lineage shows that Wuyuanzi’s views were inferred from books and had never been confirmed by a true teacher. His mistake was to rely solely on books to grasp the key points of cultivation and to rush after definite understanding; he had already become deeply trapped in this pursuit. The so-called “Three Corpses”—spirits in Daoism believed to disturb the body and mind and obstruct cultivation—seized the opportunity to conjure illusions, producing visions of vast, lofty expanses that opened and closed, along with sounds, colors, and other apparitions. He studied on his own without truly understanding, then recklessly used statements from books to validate his experience. He believed he had understood everything thoroughly and could begin cultivating, unaware that he had already fallen into danger. “Jiyi Green Urn Rakshasa Sun Cave” seems to be a borrowed name for a sinister cavern, used to describe the perilous realm he had entered. Had he encountered a true teacher at the time who could have stopped him with a stern rebuke and taught him to settle his mind in the state prior to the primordial, becoming still and stiller while preserving clear awareness, he would not have fallen into barren emptiness and extinction.

Even when one encounters phenomena that seem both present and absent, boundless and without limit, with truth and illusion intermingling and appearing and disappearing, one should respond by following the movement of Qi. Whatever scenes appear or vanish will return to their own source. I continue to observe them carefully, taking the clear, still, mysterious scene as genuine and proper. However often the phenomena renew themselves and circumstances change, I quietly observe the still essence. I do not conjure up a state of chaos and obscurity, but remain clear and calm.

As long as one does not leave the state of meditation, whether the process is described as arising, gathering, refining, coalescing, coming to completion, nurturing, forming, shedding, or transforming, one should observe its natural course and offer it only a little support, without allowing any one aspect to become excessive. This practice begins with the key “thought within thoughtlessness”: thoughts may arise in the mind, but one neither clings to them nor pursues them, allowing the mind to return to thoughtlessness. It is a method of practice used after the Mysterious Pass—the crucial point of insight in inner cultivation—has opened.

Before the Mysterious Pass opens, one should keep body and mind settled in the state that precedes the acquired condition. Gradually, effortful practice gives way to ease and composure, and the state will appear naturally, without any need to pursue it. When ancient practitioners spoke of “pursuit,” they meant returning to one’s original, innate nature; they did not mean deliberate calculation. In ordinary life, as soon as one deliberately turns thoughts over and speculates, illusions are liable to arise forcefully during practice. This was precisely the problem for Wuyuanzi, a Daoist cultivator: it stemmed from his repeatedly pondering and deliberately imagining things while reading. For this reason, practitioners should not rashly imitate the experience he described.

The “barrier” and “aperture” mentioned in the scripture point only to a threshold in cultivation; they do not mean that there is an actual, specific barrier or opening. “Barrier” suggests an obstruction or division, while “aperture” refers to a place through which one may pass or which may contain something. Practitioners must establish their foundation before the primordial state and deepen their understanding of nature. The wondrous state appearing before them is the wonder within the aperture—why seek it elsewhere?

My late teacher, Old Master Taixu, explained it this way, and the teachings of Perfected Masters Zhang of the Disheveled Hair, Li of the Mud Ball, Huang of Chicken Foot, and Li of Bare Feet all confirm his account: when the Mysterious Pass—the wondrous barrier and aperture that appears in cultivation—opens, it has no fixed location and no fixed appearance. If it had a definite location and appearance, it could not be called the Mysterious Pass.

This Mysterious Pass encompasses countless ages before and countless ages after. Its subtle principles and states are fine as dust, leaving nothing out; once stirred, they appear in an instant, following one another like shadow and form. Whether one can enter the Mysterious Pass depends on the moment when the opportunity is triggered. If that moment is missed, whether one arrives too early or too late, one cannot enter. Thus the essential method of the ancient Dao cultivators was first to reach the utmost emptiness and stillness, then carefully discern the moment when movement and stillness alternate and change is triggered. If a response is stirred by deluded thoughts, the Mysterious Pass will also produce a deluded response. The consequences are serious: how could one carelessly set the triggering moment in motion? The ancient sages held that this aperture contains everything and encompasses every state. If practitioners have not truly cast off distracting thoughts and become naturally pure, they will surely find it difficult to enter the true state of the Mysterious Pass.

At this point I sighed with feeling: “Alas, I, Wu Yuanzi, did not hear these teachings in the past. This matter is of great consequence: whether one enters the Dao and realizes it depends entirely on whether one can enter this aperture. How could I fail to add these words to the record?”

This passage recounts that after finishing his account, I drifted peacefully to sleep, unaware of where I had arrived. At first, the stars and moon hung in the night sky. Then I saw distant mountains as if in a painting, with a post station built beside the water. I climbed into the pavilion to look out. The lake stretched wide before me, the moon reflected in its center, and a small boat came rocking toward me.

The person in the boat asked, “Would you like to cross?” He asked three times, but I did not answer. If one can grasp the meaning of this, one takes off one’s shoes and boards the boat. The boatman said, “That will do!” Only after boarding did I realize it was a large vessel. Suddenly, great waves surged across the lake. Though the boat was large, it did not capsize. When the waves subsided, the boat had reached the shore.

By then I was already in the “realm of nowhere”—a state of emptiness and stillness, beyond the worldly realm—so I was not alarmed when the waves rose, nor delighted when they fell. When I took off my shoes and boarded, the boatman said, “That will do”; only once aboard did I discover it was a large vessel. Though great waves rose, the boat did not capsize; when the storm calmed, it had reached the shore. In this state, I was unalarmed by the rising waves and no happier when they subsided. The boatman was greatly pleased with me. So we went ashore together, and yet my shoes had not been taken off.

I did not think this was anything extraordinary, and the boatman agreed. He said, “Someone like you truly understands the matter of the ‘Mysterious Pass’—the crucial inner point in cultivation.” As soon as he finished speaking, the shore before my eyes was no longer a shore but a quiet dwelling. Behind it stood steep cliffs; below them lay a small pond. A young attendant came in from outside and said, “A guest has arrived.” I went out to greet him and saw Master Wu Wuyuan, his hair loose and wearing blue-brown robes, accompanied by four or five others. Among them were two Daoist priests and three elders. They followed a person dressed in white, climbing the slope along a bamboo path. When the Master saw me, he bowed with great respect, and I returned the bow. Once I had straightened up, everything I had seen and heard vanished, and I awoke. The water clock had sounded the third watch.

This is the subtle principle of responsive resonance. I simply do not know who the boatman was. I have therefore recorded this event as a point of comparison.

The workings and changes of the Celestial Dipper’s Qi.

The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three, a Daoist Neidan classic) says: “Follow the movement of the Dipper lodges and set the Yaoguang star in motion; grasp the measure of the Dipper and stabilize the order of primordial Qi.” Zhang Sanfeng says: “Set the Dipper’s pivot and handle in motion; refine the true sun and moon in a single furnace, and sweep away the 3,600 kinds of distracting thoughts.” Those who cultivate the Dao must understand the patterns of the Dipper’s pivot and power, so they can reverse the transformations of nature and regulate Yin-Yang without being constrained by its changes.

Tiangang is the seventh star of the Northern Dipper, also known as Pojun, Yaoguang, and the Marker Star. It is regarded as a high minister of the North Pole, entrusted with weighing life and death and holding the pivot of transformation. It sets the Five Phases in motion, advances the four seasons, and brings forth the myriad things. It leads the stars and serves as the hub of Qi’s movement. Its duties are weighty and its influence far-reaching. People are born endowed with the pure Qi of Heaven and Earth, and they too possess Tiangang Qi. This Qi governs human life and death and holds the reins of one’s life and destiny; its function resembles that of the Dipper’s pivot in the heavens. Understanding this makes it possible to grasp the root of life; failing to understand it means missing what is essential. Yet the Qi of the Dipper’s pivot has two forms, prenatal and postnatal, and they must be distinguished.

Postnatal Tiangang Qi circulates through the body’s twelve meridians, carrying Qi and blood throughout the whole body. Cultivating this Qi means bringing the body’s Tiangang Qi into accord with Tiangang in the heavens, joining the movement of Qi within and without so as to ward off harmful influences. But if one seeks only outside oneself and neglects inner cultivation, the practice becomes hollow and insubstantial. Before it can benefit anything beyond oneself, it will first damage one’s own body.

The precelestial Pole Star, a stellar image used in Neidan cultivation, was originally close and attuned to a person’s original master—their innate nature or true ruler—like a sovereign and minister united in purpose, working together without conflict. Once the original Yang, the pure Yang Qi of the precelestial state, is damaged, the precelestial gives way to the postcelestial. The Pole Star then turns away from its original master and attaches itself to external things. At first it protects a person’s life; later it harms it, like a fierce tiger that runs west and settles elsewhere, no longer mindful of its former master. Why does this happen? The place where the Pole Star is located is perilous; auspicious Qi lies where it points. If it points away from me and toward someone else, life-giving Qi is with that person, while killing Qi falls upon me. As the killing Qi presses in without cease, my life force declines.

Great practitioners seek “the method of deathlessness in another’s household”—a way to cultivate and attain longevity by drawing on Yin-Yang Qi from outside themselves—precisely to obtain the life-giving Qi toward which the Pole Star points. The method of gathering Qi always depends on the Pole Star: when it rests in my household, life-giving Qi is in the other’s; when it rests in the other’s household, life-giving Qi is in mine. Therefore, the Pole Star must be moved to the other’s household, so that its power is not lost. When it rests in my household, life-giving Qi is in the other’s; when it rests in the other’s household, life-giving Qi is in mine. Therefore, it must be moved to the other’s household for the work to succeed. The method of moving the Pole Star is not difficult: simply turn its heel, and it will turn around, look back, and return to its original home to acknowledge its ancestors.

This celestial secret, the key to cultivation, is not revealed through sound or sight, nor does it fall into emptiness and extinction. It is neither something one inherently possesses nor something sought outside oneself. It is clear and manifest by nature, yet people encounter it without recognizing it, often missing it right before their eyes. The saying, “One position before the Broken Army Star; a vow never to pass it on,” refers to this very matter. To say it is not passed on does not mean it is never taught. Rather, one fears teaching it to the wrong person; even ghosts and spirits would not permit that. They would forbid it because this matter is exceedingly rare in the world. Whoever obtains it can govern life and death and take command of their own life, free from Heaven and Earth’s control and from Yin-Yang’s constraints. Only someone loyal, filial, and of high moral character can bear it. A noble person who obtains it can remain steadfast in hardship and uphold the right path; a petty person who obtains it will treat life lightly. No heterodox school or deviant path can fathom its mystery.

Ah! Those who grasp this principle can enter the realm of sages at once; those who lose sight of it remain sunk for a long time. “The golden toad and the jade crow—recognize the truth, and you are a master.” These words mean that only those who can discern the true formula truly understand the art. Sadly, many people do not recognize the “Dipper Star” (the Tiangang star in the Northern Dipper, referring here to a key formula in cultivation).

The commentator says: Those who study the Dao should sincerely treasure this teaching as a guiding precept, for it is a secret path kept hidden by the celestial gods. Wu Yuanzi was so compassionate as to transmit it, and I am deeply grateful to him. If, having learned it, one practices it sincerely, the Three Corpses—the spirits said in Daoism to dwell in the human body and hinder cultivation—will naturally vanish. I have known this teaching for forty-nine years. I wished to pass it on, but never dared, for fear of being condemned for doing so.

In the past, Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) succeeded in refining the elixir three times and lost it three times because he had not yet received this formula. Later, he obtained Master Cui’s Mirror for Compounding the Medicine and verified it with Patriarch Zhong (Zhongli Quan). Only then did he dare to apply the method of the Tiangang. He subsequently received it in secret from the Lü school and safeguarded it through the generations. This is the Heavenly Master’s Heart Transmission. After receiving this formula, even the sages of antiquity did no more than accord with it in secret.

Those who study the Dao in the world all know about “turning the light inward”—gathering the spirit and observing oneself within. How many know that this is precisely the formula for “turning the Dipper Star”? This is what is meant by the saying, “The people may be made to follow the Way, but need not be made to understand it.” From now on, those who study the Dao will at last have a guide. This method can help one form the Returning Elixir, the fruit of Neidan cultivation, and can also be used to overcome… Our late teacher, Elder Taixu, said, “If one wishes to advance in the practice of the profound arts without being troubled by demons at each step, it all depends on this formula for turning the Heavenly Dipper.” Only after receiving it and putting it into practice did I understand that it meant turning the light inward. The master has now transmitted this method; for this, I privately rejoice on behalf of all who study the Dao.

Life and death; punishment and virtue.

The Yinfu Jing says: “When Heaven has a killing impulse, the stars shift; when Earth has a killing impulse, dragons and snakes appear on land; when humans have a killing impulse, Heaven and Earth are overturned.” The Daode Jing says: “Weapons are inauspicious things, not tools for a noble person to use; they are employed only when there is no other choice.” From this we can see that means that destroy life can sometimes protect and nurture life, and punishments, though they may damage virtue, can sometimes bring virtue to fruition. The key is whether one can discern the principles at work; everything depends on the person who applies them.

After birth, people are shaped by their temperament and innate disposition, by the essence and blood received from their parents, and by the influence of the deliberating, discriminating mind—the cognitive Shen—and habits accumulated over many lifetimes. As these influences build up over time, their hold grows ever deeper. The whole body seems entwined with Yin Qi, with only a trace of Yang Qi hidden within the physical form, concealed from view. This is the condition described by the ancients when they said, “The four elements of the body are all Yin; I know not what within it is the essence of Yang.”

Though Yin Qi weighs heavily on the human body, it cannot yet do harm before the stage of postnatal transformation begins, while the body is still governed by prenatal Qi. The person of great wisdom guards against trouble before it arises, firmly protecting true Yang and preventing postnatal Yin Qi from intruding. In this way, one can pass directly beyond the sea of suffering and has no need to use methods of punishment and killing. Methods are devised to remove afflictions; where there is no affliction, there is nothing for a method to address. This is precisely when methods of punishment and killing need not be used.

If prenatal Qi lies hidden and no longer manifests, while postnatal Qi begins to take charge, Yin Qi will erupt all at once, and illness will arise throughout the body. Some afflictions have already appeared, while others have yet to emerge. Some have taken root in habits accumulated in past lives, others in habits formed in this life; some arise from one’s nature, others from human action. Their kinds are many, and their demonic obstructions differ. Without methods to restrain Yin Qi and support Yang Qi, or means to transform what is deviant and return it to what is upright, Yin Qi will continue to grow, eventually exhausting Yang Qi and harming one’s nature and life. At this point, methods of punishment and killing must be used.

Punishment, virtue, life, and killing are interrelated: punishment can bring virtue to fruition, and virtue can also be used to carry out punishment; nurturing life and putting to death likewise depend on one another. The final sentence of the original text reiterates that when Yin Qi exhausts Yang Qi and puts life at risk, methods of punishment and killing become necessary.

Punishment, De, life, and death are four functions that depend on one another. Punishment serves to fulfill De; De, in turn, needs punishment to put it into practice. The function of killing is to preserve life, while nurturing life can also resolve killing. If there is punishment without De, or killing without nurturing life, punishment and killing become too severe and damage the Qi of harmony. If there is De without punishment, or nurturing life without killing, De and nurture lack the power to restrain, and harmful influences from outside may enter unnoticed. Therefore, life and death must be used together, and punishment and De must proceed in tandem. This can lessen unexpected calamities and unforeseen troubles.

Punishment and killing are used to dispel Yin Qi; life and De are used to preserve Yang Qi. When Yang Qi flourishes, Yin Qi naturally recedes; when Yin Qi dissipates, Yang Qi can become secure. Are the functions of life and death, punishment and De, merely minor aids?

If practitioners understand the key to punishment and De, and know how to apply life and death, they can impose restraint when restraint is called for, and bring things to fulfillment when the time is right; nurture life when it is called for, and bring things to a halt when necessary. Punishment contains the intent to bring things to fulfillment, and killing holds within it the potential to nurture life. Through punishment, one preserves De; through killing, one supports life. By responding to adversity in accordance with circumstances, and knowing how to judge when to hasten or delay, advance or withdraw, one can act flexibly without becoming fixed on a single approach.

Further reference: In cultivating the Daoist elixir, practices such as gathering, refining, and nurturing with warmth must all be carried out according to the principles of punishment and De, life and death, as explained in detail above. How to discern and put these principles into practice still requires further explanation, for there are additional methods that enable one to truly understand and apply them. What are these methods? They are to maintain and attend to these four approaches. When all four are in place, practitioners can perceive subtle changes and will not be misled by shifts in the movement of Qi. They can then apply punishment and De, life and death, appropriately, and bring the Daoist elixir practice to completion. This is the key to the study of life cultivation. Yet without a sufficiently deep foundation in the study of nature, it is often difficult to master.

Superior De and Inferior De

An ancient classic says: “Superior De is Wuwei (non-action), yet has nothing by which it acts. Inferior De acts, and has something by which it acts.” It also says: “Those of superior De use the Dao to perfect their form; those of inferior De use techniques to prolong their life.” Both statements mean that superior De and inferior De represent different levels of attainment, and that their methods of cultivation differ as well.

“Superior De” refers to a person whose innate De is intact and whose Qian-Yang (pure Yang Qi) has not been damaged. Here, “undamaged” means that the innate Yang Qi remains unharmed; it does not mean that the person’s acquired body has not yet experienced sexual intercourse. When Qian-Yang is abundant, a person’s innate Qi is pure and subtle, integrated as a whole; the Five Phases converge, the Four Images are harmonized, and all the precious foundations are in place. Without a method to preserve this, Yang at its peak will give rise to Yin, and fullness at its utmost will begin to diminish. Those who understand this hasten to seek a master who can transmit the key instructions. Before Yin has arisen, they adopt the method of “using the Dao to complete the form,” applying the natural True Fire to refine away the Yin within the body. They master the “six” (the rules governing Yin-Yang changes and the six stages used in cultivation) without being controlled by those rules, thereby achieving the effects of acquired cultivation. When Yin is exhausted and Yang is pure, they can attain long life and deathlessness.

“Inferior De” refers to a person whose Yang has reached its peak and in whom Yin has begun to arise. By this point, the innate Qi has dispersed, the Five Phases have separated, the Four Images are no longer harmonized, and all the precious foundations have been lost. If one cultivates using only the Dao of Wuwei (non-action), it is like having no seed in the cauldron: water and fire boil an empty pot to no purpose. One must therefore rely on Yin-Yang transformations and seize the workings of creation, returning from the acquired to the innate. In this way, the foundations lost in the past can be restored: what was absent can become present again, and what departed can return, recovering its former wholeness. Once the foundations are restored, the root of life is secured. One then establishes a separate cauldron and furnace—the body and mind in which Neidan (internal alchemy) is refined and nourished—practices Wuwei, and gently nurtures the sacred embryo, the Neidan formed through cultivation. When the Qi has matured through ten months, one emerges in the Dharma Body, the pure body attained through cultivation. In the end, one too can follow the same path of return as those of Superior De.

Later readers who do not understand what “higher De” and “lower De” mean have simply said that someone whose semen has already been discharged has lower De, while someone whose semen has not been discharged has higher De. This is a serious mistake. The semen produced through sexual intercourse is something formed after birth, the most turbid of the turbid. How could it serve as the basis for judgment?

The claim about “losing one’s virginity at sixteen” refers to “two eights making one jin”: when Yin and Yang develop to their fullest, Yang turns and gives rise to Yin; only after Yin Qi arises does semen form. This judgment is based on the transformations of Yin and Yang, not on age. If age alone were the measure, how could we explain that some people have semen by the age of sixteen, some before they turn sixteen, and others only after they are sixteen? It follows that higher and lower De cannot be measured by phenomena acquired after birth. They must be distinguished by one’s inborn nature: those whose innate endowment is whole are called higher De, and those whose innate endowment is deficient are called lower De. This is the definitive explanation.

Some people who do not understand the Great Dao say, “Life is more important than nature.” Others say, “Nature is more important than life.” (The original text turns to the following discussion at this point.)