《古书隐楼藏书》

The Biyuan Tansheng (Platform Scripture of the Jade Garden) preserved in the Gu Shu Yin Lou Cang Shu (Hidden Tower Library of Ancient Books) was delivered by Wang Changyue, Master Kunyang, the seventh-generation lüshi (precept master) who transmitted precepts in the Longmen branch of the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) order of the Great Qing, compiled by his eighth-generation precept disciple Shi Shouping, and revised by the eleventh-generation later scholar Min Yide.

The opening section is the Xinfa Zhenyan (True Words on the Heart-Dharma). In the second year of the Kangxi reign, in the guimao year, on an auspicious day in the tenth month, Master Kunyang opened the precept altar at Biyuan in Jinling (present-day Nanjing) and addressed Ningzhenzi Shao Shoushan and Fuyaozi Zhan Shouchun: From youth I have yearned for the Way, and seen through the emptiness and unreality of human life and the ceaseless shifting of illusory realms. To escape lunhui (the turning of birth and death), one must early cultivate the supreme Great Dao. Though Mount Kongtong is near, Guangchengzi (legendary teacher of the Yellow Emperor) may not grant you an audience; though Penglai is not far, how can an ordinary body reach it? You must leave defilement behind, sweep away dust, wash the heart-mind, purify intent and thought, wear down long-standing habits until worldly notions turn to ash, and discard the body of desire until it is clean. Cut off the root of deluded thinking. All outer conditions cease at once; you advance step by step through keeping precepts and entering concentration; myriad thoughts return to emptiness and stillness, and layer by layer you see clearly in wisdom. Only when you can pull free can you hold steady; only when you see through can you endure. Therefore raise the eyebrows and grasp the knife that severs attachment; open the stride and board straight the boat that ferries the world. One turn of the body leaves the wheel behind; one turn of thought escapes the net. Compassion unextinguished—the ancients said that in saving oneself one saves others; merciful vow ever kept—I wish not only to cross myself but to cross others as well.

I remember when I sought truth and visited the Way, I went to Mount Wangwu and met an enlightened teacher. Above I received the great grace of the Three Treasures (Dao, scriptures, and master); below I relied on my own body’s strength and practiced austerity. I took refuge in the supreme Dharma King and followed the wondrous Way of the Great Vehicle. I met an age of great peace and quiet joy—an occasion rare in ten thousand jie and seldom seen in a thousand lives. How could I not expound the Three Treasures and repay the Four Graces (Heaven and Earth, sovereign, parents, and teachers)! I can only offer a slight wish and share a little clarity from the inch of my heart. Therefore I do not shun the charge of overstepping my place and open the altar to teach precepts; nor do I flee mockery and slander when preaching and explaining the scriptures. It is not to seek fame by meddling, but to break heterodox views and dispel confusion. Heaven’s law tolerates no flowery speech; the utmost Dao rests in straight words. I respectfully pass on the seventh-generation household style of the Longmen lineage to the assembly, recording these frank words from Biyuan for the broad benefit of humanity and Heaven. I dare not use hollow rhetoric; I may speak as things are. Today I transmit this to you precisely to guide the dull and lost and clarify the orthodox teaching. If you are vessels of the supreme teaching, persons of clear vision, this poor Daoist would count it fortune to listen humbly below the wind; I would ask your compassionate instruction to verify what I have heard—that is my wish.

When the two had heard the instruction, they bowed and withdrew, standing to east and west. Then the precept disciple Shi Shouping of Guangling (present-day Yangzhou) bowed with forehead to the ground and intoned: The Dharma originally has no Dharma; it appears as Dharma only because of the mind. The mind originally has no substance; it empties along with the Dharma. When the mind appears, the Dharma King takes form upon the mind; when the Dharma returns to the ruling mind, it returns to emptiness. Understand that clinging to a fixed Dharma is not the mark of completeness; you must awaken that the ordinary mind is the sage mind. Mind is Dharma, Dharma is mind—the heart-Dharma are mutually identical. One who is liberated together in mind and Dharma is the true kindred spirit.

II. Taking Refuge in the Three Treasures

The Three Treasures are the Dao, the Jing (scripture), and the Master (Shi). The Dao is originally empty and void: it has no form and no name, and without the classics it cannot be understood. The Dao is contained in the scriptures—profound and subtle—and without a master’s guidance one cannot grasp their meaning. If you do not take refuge in the Three Treasures, you will surely sink into heterodox paths, with a confused and darkened mind. All who sincerely cultivate the Dao and entrust their nature and life (Xingming) to this path should regard this encounter as a rare opportunity.

First, take refuge in the supreme treasure of the Dao: may all beings always serve the Heavenly Lord (the supreme deity of Daoism) and forever escape the cycle of rebirth. Second, take refuge in the supreme treasure of the Jing: may all beings in life after life hear the correct teaching. Third, take refuge in the supreme treasure of the Master: may all beings learn the supreme vehicle and not fall into wrong views.

These three refuges are the first step that past sages used to lead people into the Dao, and the first gate of entering virtue. Becoming an immortal, attaining the Dao, becoming a sage, becoming a worthy—all begin here. Why? Because nature, life, and birth-and-death are the great karmic matters—subtle and hidden, hard to see and hard to hear. The supreme method of liberation—without a true master (Shi Zhen, an accomplished teacher) compassionately instructing and awakening your spirit—how could you suddenly awaken to the orthodox Great Vehicle, gradually enter the wondrous Dao of emptiness, and not fall into wrong views or stray into side paths?

Therefore, those who have not yet understood the Dao should first take refuge in the classics; those who have not yet understood the classics should first take refuge in the master. When you take refuge in the treasure of the Master, the treasure of the Jing can be heard where it could not be heard before; when you hear the treasure of the Jing, the treasure of the Dao can be seen where it could not be seen before. What was once invisible and inaudible becomes clear in one stroke—all through taking refuge in the treasure of the Master. From this you naturally comprehend the true text, understand the correct law, transcend birth and death, and no longer fall into the cycle of rebirth.

To naturally grasp and penetrate the true Jing (scripture), and to understand the orthodox Dao (the Way), is to transcend birth and death and no longer fall into samsara—the endless turning of life and death. Yet the method of taking refuge in the Three Treasures that I speak of requires taking refuge in the true Three Treasures. Why? Friends! Today people treat the three refuges as something routine: morning and evening they merely recite scriptures and bow before sacred images before the altar, never truly understanding what “taking refuge” means in practice, nor knowing why they came in the first place. Thus they remain sunk in heterodox paths to the end and cannot escape samsara. How then could they comprehend the Great Dao or leave birth and death behind?

The true Three Treasures are these: take refuge in your own yi (intention)—so that thoughts no longer arise and cease—and the treasure of the Dao becomes clear; take refuge in your own xin (heart-mind)—so that its movements meet no obstruction—and the treasure of the Jing becomes accessible; take refuge in your own shen (body)—so that the eyes see as if seeing nothing, the ears hear as if hearing nothing, the nose smells as if smelling nothing, the tongue tastes as if tasting nothing, the hands do not move rashly, the feet do not walk rashly, you are not stained by lust and defilement, you personally practice austerity, wear down sinew and bone, endure hunger, and weary the limbs, casting off attachment to the physical form—then the treasure of the Master (Shibao) can respond.

Those who can move a master’s compassion and receive transmission of the Jing and the Dao must first have taken refuge in their own body, heart-mind, and intention; these are the true Three Treasures. If one’s own ears and eyes cannot forget what they see and hear, one is either lost in form or clinging to sound; while form and sound remain, this body is not true. If the body is not true, how can one move the master? If one can keep the body upright, nourish within the heart-mind the linggen (root of innate spirituality), and align intention with zhenchang (the ever-true, constant Way), then every thought returns to emptiness, still and settled in great stillness (dading)—this is called taking refuge in the Three Treasures.

When the body is free of lust, the Master Treasure responds; when the heart-mind is not veiled and dulls the spirit, the Jing Treasure opens; when intention does not divide between two purposes, the Dao Treasure is clear. When the body is stable, Jing is full and the form is strong; when the heart-mind is bright, Qi is clear and wisdom penetrates; when intention is sincere, Shen gathers and the original nature appears. Once Jing and Qi are sufficient, the transformations of spirit become unfathomably subtle—all arising from taking refuge in one’s own body, heart-mind, and intention as the Three Treasures, from which the Dao, the Jing, and the Master likewise arise. As for how to take refuge in body, heart-mind, and intention—friends!

Each of you must listen closely and with full attention. I will now explain how to take refuge in the three treasures of body, heart-mind, and intention—making body, mind, and will your objects of refuge—so that you may break through dullness and clear away doubt.

Friends! This body comes from the union of the father’s essence and the mother’s blood; temperament, features, and limbs all form in the womb. It is nothing but a mass of impurity—a skin-bag woven from the four great elements (earth, water, fire, and wind) that make up the flesh. The eyes see, the ears hear, the feet walk, the hands move, the mouth speaks, the tongue tastes—yet none of this is anything you can rely on for long. Used well, it can become an immortal, a buddha, or a sage; used badly, it becomes a demon or monster, or sinks to ghost or beast. Turn it upward and it may reach heaven; turn it downward and it falls into hell. Those who receive good karma treat it as something outside themselves; those who receive bad karma use it as the very root of creating karma.

All the more so for you who have already left home and wish to escape birth and death: you must begin by taking refuge in this body—only then is the approach sound. Otherwise, the six senses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) chase outward, and the three poisons (greed, hatred, and delusion) rise within. Myriad disasters and countless trials—the nine demons and ten hardships (the many demonic obstacles and ordeals on the path)—all start from the body. How then can you cultivate and enter the Way?

To take refuge, there is only one method that can subdue this body: uphold the precepts and rein in the unruly flesh. Take the four deportments of walking, standing, sitting, and lying as your main discipline; keep conduct restrained and dignified so the ears do not heed at random nor the eyes wander at random. Let your appearance be solemn and your heart upright and compassionate, so that others who see you feel joy and reverence. When precepts govern the wild body and turn it into a body that accords with the Dharma, the teacher as treasure—the master worthy of refuge—can truly be taken as refuge.

Friends! The first teaching has been explained. Next you must take refuge in the heart-mind. This heart-mind is not the same as the body: it is treacherous and changeable, hard to fathom—like wind over the great sea, the water vast and deep while the wind surges wild.

The first section of the teaching has explained that one must take refuge in this heart. Friends! The heart and the body are not the same. The heart is treacherous and changeable, hard to fathom—like wind over the great sea: the water is deep and vast, the wind fierce, waves and tides surge and clash, rising and falling without pattern, never to be relied upon. Through kalpas of birth and death, there has been no day of release; the sea of suffering has no shore. To take refuge in this heart now, you must see that it is only a lump of flesh and blood, not something good or lasting. It craves sights and sounds and does not fear breaking the law or punishment; it greedily eats and hoards wealth and does not care about losing body or life. It does not fear falling into the hungry ghosts or the animal realm; it is not alarmed by being sent to the knife mountains and burning coals of hell; it does not refuse plague and disaster, and will not even avoid stars falling or mountains collapsing. Every kind of calamity is first stirred up by this heart. The Six Thieves (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and intention—these six, like robbers, disturb your true nature) lead the charge; the seven emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, desire) command the army. If you wish to cultivate but cannot yourself take refuge in and subdue this heart, how can you subdue demons and monsters, clear obstacles, remove perversity, grasp the root secret, understand the correct Dharma, refine the essential aim, and enter directly into the supreme vehicle?

To tame this heart, you still need something to command it: within keeping the precepts, quiet the mind and enter stillness (mingxin ruding)—as if reining in the horse and drawing back the whip, turning back the gale and extinguishing the flame. When the fire of ignorance (wuming—delusion and confusion) flares in the heart, use the water of forbearance (renshui—the power of patience, taking the idea of water overcoming fire) to check it. Turn blazing fire into the wind of wisdom; turn ignorance into great wisdom; turn evil causes into good fruits; turn disaster and enmity into joy; push aside sights and sounds as if they were floating dust; turn negligence into reverence. Do not give rise to murky defilement; do not dispute over right and wrong; do not let going and staying fight, high and low alternate, or gain and loss shift—the spirit no longer spins and churns. Then naturally breath settles and the heart is calm; with a calm heart and settled breath, you can take refuge in the treasure of scripture (jingbao—the scripture as one of the Three Treasures). Friends, once you have used stable concentration to subdue this frenzied heart of flesh and blood, it is wind still and waves flat, the moon rises on a level sea, the jewel shines forth, wisdom penetrates the deep meaning of the classics, and intelligence opens the explanations of the scriptures. After that you must also take refuge in this “intention” (yi—mind-intent).

Having used the power of samadhi to gather in and subdue the restless heart-mind within the flesh-and-blood body, it becomes calm as when the wind dies down and the waves flatten, and the moon rises—light clear as a pearl appearing, penetrating insight linking the deep meaning of the classics, and intelligent understanding reaching the exposition of the scriptures. At this stage one must still take refuge in—entrust the heart to—this “Yi” (intention).

Yi is harder to govern than the heart-mind. Where the heart-mind seeks uprightness, Yi stresses sincerity. Sincerity means careful thoroughness. Once settled, amid fineness one remains utterly clear; not a hair’s breadth is concealed. One does not fall to either side, nor does one rest idle—movement and stillness are one, and light shines everywhere.

Therefore, as long as one has not yet taken refuge in Yi, one must still guard against the heart-mind that seems settled and quiet yet stirs in secret and acts on its own, giving rise to cunning and deceit: changes diverge in every direction, coming and going without fixity, fabrications multiply, now extinguished now born, tricks pile up like dragons and tigers that cannot be seized; like shadow and wind, seeming touchable yet in truth without visible form. The slightest hidden trigger unleashes force like a thousand-weight load, yet no sound is heard; a drop of water can open the course of a ten-thousand-bushel vessel, with schemes beyond counting. Its effect cannot be fathomed—it can swap day for night and steal heaven itself, with stratagems without end.

Once Yi has taken refuge, all of this dissolves like ice melting or a fortress crumbling, and the myriad phenomena return to spring. From here one may enter sagehood and attain truth, may ascend as immortal and complete the Way; in teaching the world, the state is governed and the people are at peace, times are harmonious and harvests are full, and loyalty, filial piety, integrity, and chastity can stand firm. The Three Bonds and Five Human Relationships (ruler-minister, father-son, husband-wife, and the five relations among them) appear through the sincerity of Yi; the nine schools and the three teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) arise from the sincerity of Yi. Between sincerity and insincerity, fortune and misfortune, disaster and auspice, fortune and ill fortune, obstruction and smooth passage—all take this Yi as the karmic condition of life and fate and the retribution of the wheel of rebirth (samsara).

Assembly! If you do not take refuge in this Yi, this heart-mind cannot be stable. If you wish stability, you must take refuge in this Yi. The light of wisdom will naturally shine clear; once awakened, each thing can be understood in turn. Before a thought stirs, the mind-ground is deep and clear as still water; once a thought arises, right and wrong divide at once. Do not obscure the numinous light: mechanisms turn with the pivot, stars shift with the handle of the Dipper. If this Yi is sincere, one may hold the authority over life and death; if this Yi is not sincere, who then holds the handle of the wheel of rebirth? Assembly!

The intent-treasure (yi) within one’s own heart: with a single thought that is sincere and undivided, it can reach upward to the heavens and penetrate downward to the netherworld. Ghosts and spirits are thrown into panic by this intent; sun and moon lose their light because of it; creation itself loses its sovereign power; yin and yang depart from their proper measure; demons and monsters hide and flee because of it; and the rise and fall, flourishing and decline of people are all decided by this intent. Within and beyond the Three Realms (heaven, earth, and humanity—or the desire realm, form realm, and formless realm), nothing is more exalted than this “intent.” Release it, and it appears as being; gather it back, and it returns to non-being. Moving freely in every direction—nothing is outside this intent.

When this intent turns upward in reverence toward Yuanshi (the Primordial Beginning), it becomes ancestral qi (zuqi); when it settles in the center and returns to Lingbao (the Spiritual Treasure), it becomes Brahma qi (fanqi); when it descends and takes refuge in Taishang (the Supreme Venerable), it becomes true qi (zhenqi). When it spreads wide, it is vast qi (haoqi); when it gathers and becomes mild, it is primordial qi (yuanqi); when it is compassionate and benevolent, it is yang qi; when it is sorrowful, angry, or punishing, it is yin qi; when it is greedy, irascible, or violently impatient, it is blood qi (xueqi); when it is lustful, murderous, thieving, or deceitful, it is deviant qi (xieqi); when it is stubborn and closed off, it is demonic qi (moqi); when it is cruel and benighted, it is monstrous qi (yaoqi); when it is harsh, cutting, unjust, and oppressive, it is resentful qi (yuanqi).

All of this happens because the multitude do not take the master as their treasure (shibao) in the body, but instead indulge fierce and overbearing conduct; they do not take the scripture as their treasure (jingbao) in the heart, and so they are often dulled and dark; they do not take the Dao as their treasure (daobao) in intent, and thus their minds are chaotic, troubled, and constantly shifting. When intent is skewed and not sincere, sincerity is lost; once the center is lost, the light of wisdom cannot arise, meditative stability cannot hold, precepts cannot be strictly kept, shen (spirit) cannot gather, qi cannot assemble, and jing (essence) cannot transform. Therefore the body cannot be cultivated, the heart cannot be stilled, and intent cannot be made sincere.

People of the assembly! I now set forth the Great Dao clearly, pointing directly to the human heart (zhizhi renxin). If you do not promptly and early subdue body, heart, and intent—transforming them into the true body of the three treasures (corresponding to Dao, scripture, and master)—and thereby transcend the cycle of rebirth (samsara), and then one by one take refuge in the three treasures of Dao, scripture, and master as handed down by the awakened ones and knowers of the world, you will not fail to honor this precious karmic bond of leaving home.

If anyone can truly practice according to the three great gates of precepts, concentration, and wisdom—keeping precepts, entering meditative stillness, and generating insight—with firm faith, without hesitation or regret, it can be affirmed that such a person will surely attain the Dao. If one deviates even slightly, fails to follow through, and slackens on one’s own, that is heavy karmic offense and thin merit: one cannot understand the Great Dao; the celestial spirits will not accept one either—how then could one hear the supreme, utmost true, and pure path of liberation?

When you meet such people, do not grow angry or rebuke them harshly. You should feel compassion and use gentle, fitting means to guide them into the Way. This is what is called taking refuge in the Three Treasures (taking refuge in the Dao, the scriptures, and the teacher). Then the disciples who have received precepts bow their heads in refuge and compose a hymn, saying: The Great Dao is originally clear and empty; it cannot be spoken through names and forms. Because the scriptures are subtle, they were written down in words. Were it not for the teacher expounding the meaning of Yuanshi (the Primordial Beginning), how could muddled and deluded people understand? When light continues without break, this is called Quanzhen (Complete Perfection); fully obtaining the true origin, one can transcend birth and death. Those who know and awaken first cherish deep compassion and lead countless worthy people into the gate of the Dao.

“Three: Repentance of Karmic Offenses (with Repentance and Vow Text appended)” is a section title meaning repentance of one’s own karmic offenses, with appended texts for repentance and making vows.

Everyone! Having taken refuge in the Three Treasures—the Dao, the scriptures, and the master—you must earnestly practice this subtle cultivation. The Supreme Venerable (Taishang Laojun) said: misfortune and blessing have no fixed gate; people bring them entirely upon themselves. The retribution for good and evil follows the person like a shadow clinging to the body—it never leaves. Therefore, in heaven and earth there are spirits who oversee faults and, according to the weight of each person’s offenses, reduce and cut short their allotted lifespan (the ancient measure by which life was reckoned). These faults, great and small, number in the hundreds. Whoever seeks long life must first avoid them. What we call karmic offenses are precisely these faults.

Today some practitioners blind their own clear knowing, deceive their true nature, see only others’ faults, and do not know their own wrongs. This single failure—to know one’s own faults—already makes the offense deep and the karmic burden heavy. How can one who hides from the heart and dims the self enter the Way? Therefore one must repent. Repentance means reverently facing the sacred immortals (sheng zhen), daring not to conceal past faults, setting vows with heartfelt urgency, and resolving never again to repeat former errors. Only then can one advance upward.

I now do not fear being blamed or reproached; I will lay bare how people in the world hide from the heart and dim themselves. Listen, each of you, and you will understand naturally. What is hiding from the heart and dimming oneself? The mouth talks loftily while the heart craves wealth and goods; outwardly one plays a role and puts on rank, inwardly one schemes at every turn. One has received precepts yet does not keep them, and when exhorting others does not fear being shown one’s own faults. Outwardly one is a Daoist priest, yet in secret one keeps company with the unruly. What one says fellow disciples do not believe; in public affairs one often covers up one’s own errors. One hears the Way but does not practice it, knows the rules yet deliberately breaks them. One uses cleverness to cheat the simple-minded and treats taking advantage as the footing of one’s life. One easily gives rise to ignorance and wrath (wuming), and is often stubborn and defiant. One calls what is not, what is; what is, what is not. The false becomes true, the true becomes false. One points at a deer and calls it a horse, hangs a sheep’s head and sells dog meat. One does wrong in hidden rooms and plays tricks even in broad daylight under the clear sky. In the belly one calculates in secret; in the smile one wears dullness and delusion.

Secretly scheming against others while wearing a smile on one's face—this is what people call “a knife hidden in a smile.” Every kind of crooked conduct, each act that turns away from the right path: the doer knows it in his heart. Those who truly do not know are the dull, the foolish, the deluded, and the reckless. To know something is wrong and still do it on purpose—that is what makes a schemer, a villain, a deviant, or a petty person. Is this not hiding from one's own true heart and deceiving oneself? Their karmic burden is heavier than that of the dull, foolish, deluded, and reckless. Why? The dull and foolish lack wisdom; they err through ignorance. They can only harm themselves, not others; even if they harm others, in the end they too will be harmed by others. Only the scheming and wicked are insidious and cunning: they profit at others' expense and also blind themselves to cheat their own hearts, as if they could keep Heaven and Earth from seeing their treachery and spirits and ghosts from knowing their evil. They lay snares with clever devices and often cloak their actions; their plots run deep and their arrangements are tight, and they twist and strain to patch and cover every gap. They set nets for others, yet others cannot tell where the net was cast; they push someone into a well, yet others cannot guess who dug it. Such people are many in the world, but this way has no place in cultivation. If one had this mind before taking refuge in the Three Treasures (Dao, scripture, and teacher), then now that one has received the precepts (Daoist vows), one should change one's ways and repent at once. Lately the spirit of the times in the Dao has weakened; discipline has largely grown lax, the teaching of the Dao has declined, and Daoist priests (huangguan) have failed in instruction—among those in the feathered robe (yuliu, members of the Daoist community) who have been admonished again and again, many have broken rules and violated precepts. I now spare no bitter words and warn you once more: you must repent not only the offenses of drifting and sinking through kalpas past, and the offenses owed to parents across many lives, and the offenses owed to your present parents and to the Nine Mysteries and Seven Ancestors (jiuxuan qizu, ancestors through the generations)—even your own former offenses must quickly be cleansed inwardly, in the heart. Every improper, wandering thought and every subtle delusion must be confessed for past wrongs and repented for past faults, so that the quality of your cultivation (daopin) may be achieved. Otherwise it is like covering your ears while stealing a bell—deceiving yourself—how could you obtain liberation? You would be far from the Great Dao.

One must promptly cleanse past karmic offenses in the hidden depths of mind and heart. Every improper deluded thought, every slightest wandering notion, must be met with repentance for earlier wrongs and reform of past faults—only then does one enter the rank of cultivation. Otherwise it is like plugging one’s ears while stealing a bell, deceiving oneself; how could liberation be possible? The Dao would then remain far away. I now compose a repentance text for the community to recite morning and evening.

Repentance and Vow Text

From the day we received precepts until today, we have coveted only the empty reputation of ordination and have not truly embodied and upheld the precepts in practice. We wear the robes in name only; rules and alms bowl are passed on as mere form. We neither advance on the Precepts of Initial Truth (Chuzhen jie, the Quanzhen preliminary precepts) nor avoid lapses on the Middle Ultimate Precepts (Zhongji jie, the next stratum of precepts). Lacking wisdom in the heart, we fail to earnestly seek instruction from an enlightened teacher; when unenlightened ignorance (wuming, dullness and delusion) arises in our nature, we often cannot bear with fellow practitioners in patience. Narrow in mind, we cannot tolerate others; biased in intention, we repeatedly transgress. Not knowing true awakening, we take illusion for reality; not discerning root causes, we mistake the thief for our own child. We treat the worthy as villains, inverting right and wrong; we take gentlemen for petty men, unable to distinguish what is and is not. Sometimes when soliciting merit funds we confuse cause and effect, and money and grain all go into private pockets; sometimes when reciting scriptures we misread characters and are wholly unaware in mind and heart. Sometimes at the sight of beauty the mind stirs with lust; sometimes upon hearing the words of sages we doubt in the belly and boast of ourselves. Such failures of conduct only keep us forever sunk in the mundane world. If from now on we do not turn and renew ourselves, the day will come when the path ends at dusk and we will sink like a stone to the bottom of the sea. If we still act willfully thereafter, when the bell tolls the last watch and the great limit approaches, we will finally know the sword trees and knife mountains (hellish torments in the underworld). Therefore today, with heart-incense, heart-lamp, and heart-water (offering sincerity as incense, lamp, and pure water), we make offering; with all sincerity of returning body, returning spirit, and returning life (gui shen ming—devoting body, spirit, and destiny to refuge), we pray. Moment by moment we plead in low voice, gazing toward the cinnabar heavens (danxiao, the celestial realm) to petition fate; morning and evening we urgently lift our hearts toward the golden palace (jintque, the court of heaven). Relying on the sincerity of fasting, purification, and bathing, we do not fear hard toil. Turning again and again we kowtow and beg the compassionate mercy of our teachers; we set offerings and lament in petition: may heaven forgive! From this time forth may we utterly remove all evil and forever be good people; from now may we strive to serve the true Dao and painfully, earnestly hold the Precepts of Initial Truth. If we again violate the former precepts, may we suffer heaven’s punishment in life and fall into Fengdu (the nether administration) after death; if we breach the former regulations, may we suffer extreme punishment in the yang realm and be buried in Avīci (wujian, unbroken hell) in the yin realm. We only wish that after repentance offenses be extinguished and blessings arise, disasters fade and knots untie, that on the ground of awakening ice and snow melt away, and the hazy heart-moon shed bright light. May the pitch-dark room grow bright again, and the sunlight of wisdom enter the night; may the path of cultivation open wide, and we not again lose the way.

The sprouts of good roots grow without cease, and sweet dew—the grace that descends from heaven—drops upon withered branches. The primal order (yuan gang) of the cosmic source spreads the benevolence of rebirth and renewal; the Dharma rain—the shower of grace in teaching and deliverance—falls in abundance, so that what had withered awakens again. Thus guilt may be remitted, evil names struck from the black ledger that records offenses, and names entered upon the green scroll—the register of those who ascend to truth and receive blessing. One diligently cultivates great ding—the depth of mind in profound meditative absorption—and guards and stabilifies the true body.

All eight consciousnesses—the modes of mind comprising eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind, manas, and alaya—are wholly relinquished and purified; every sort of obstacle and every demonic disturbance scatters like drifting clouds. The karmic threads of past, present, and future lives are seen through with clarity, and the nine primordials and seven ancestors—the spirits of the ancestors through the generations—ascend to the rosy heaven. The divine wind spreads far and is made manifest; myriad Qi, primordial vital energy, rises upward, and the fluids and essences flow freely. The spirit of the lineage revives without end, and the stream of the teaching continues from the patriarchs’ seats. Whether one goes forth or stays at home, all is auspicious and the storms of the world are stilled; whether one is hidden or in plain view, all is secure and peaceful, enjoying the sun and moon within the gourd—the passage of time in the inner realm of cultivation within the heart.

We further pray that teachers and fellow disciples, household and clan, all people upon the great earth, and donors and faithful throughout the world may each open the light of the heart and each have the heaven of fate clear and shining. May the seasons be harmonious and the years abundant, the state secure and the people at peace. May warfare cease and the disasters of water and fire be balanced and eased. May the imperial foundation be firm and the imperial enterprise long flourish. May the sage emperor enjoy myriad years of life and the ministers who assist the throne be wise and good. May all people be of one sincere heart and every land rejoice in walking the Way. Together with all living beings, may we return to stillness. We humbly ask that holy compassion grant assent, bend to regard us, and deliver beings.

The foregoing is the text of confession and vows; it should be recited morning and evening with sincere devotion. One must let the dharma-body of one’s practice face reverently toward Shangdi, the sovereign heaven; in every thought return with sincerity, in every heart hold shame, in every line recite clearly, and in every word taste it within repentance, advancing with vigor. Set aside together the cares of life and death, hardship, hunger, and cold, and hold only to precepts and ding—discipline and meditative absorption—and one’s path ahead will naturally find its place.

Record of the Biyuan Altar, fascicle one, section four: “Cutting Off Obstacles.”

Those who cultivate but have not yet cut through their obstacles find their minds sealed shut and dulled; those who have not cleared away stagnation remain foolish and dim. The mind in its original state is as bright as the sun in an open sky, while wandering thoughts and emotional desire are like passing clouds. When mist blocks the heavens, how can the sun shine through? When desire clouds the spirit gate—the opening through which the mind’s spirit becomes clear—how can innate spiritual responsiveness (the subtle working of primordial clarity) merge and flow freely? This is a major fault on the path of cultivation.

I will now point to the root of the illness. In Daoist teaching, obstacles fall into two kinds: obstacles of principle (attachments formed by clinging to doctrines), and obstacles of affairs (obstacles that arise in how one acts). Without understanding affairs, true and false are hard to tell apart; without understanding principle, right and wrong are hard to distinguish. If one rigidly holds to doctrine when discussing practical matters, becoming pedantic and inflexible, one blocks the heart with obstacles of principle; if one cares only for action while harming principle, turning perverse and contrary, one lets affairs betray and harm one’s original nature. Whether in principle or in affairs, wherever there is clinging, there is obstacle.

Let me explain the word “obstacle” in more detail. Friends: the countless scriptures and classics were written by those who awakened and knew first, so that later generations would do good, study well, awaken to the Dao, and cultivate truth (xiuzhen). Yet sentient beings do not do good but turn to evil, do not study well but learn what is harmful, do not cultivate truth but traffic in falsity, do not awaken to the Dao but corrupt the teaching—this is using affairs to obstruct the original mind. There are also monastics who do good yet cling to goodness, study well yet cling to being “good,” cultivate truth yet become excessively rigid, awaken to the Dao yet remain attached to appearances and enslaved to external traces—in what is good they never find release; this is using principle to obstruct the original mind. Still, those who have these two kinds of obstacles are at least people who wish to advance.

There is another sort of cultivator whose mind-ground is not yet clear and whose innate spiritual pivot (the primordial turning of spirit) has not yet moved, so that obstacles arise everywhere. When they see those striving upward on the Dao expounding scripture and explaining precepts, they praise them in public while secretly stirring fundamental ignorance (wuming—delusion and afflictive turmoil), giving rise to a heart of obstruction and thoughts born of ignorance.

Friends, if the heart of obstacles is not removed, how can one escape the sea of suffering? Boat, raft, sail, and oars are all at hand—one could cross the sea, yet one neither crosses nor dares to. Why? Know this: this very heart of obstacles is like black clouds suddenly rising in the sky, pressing down in vast darkness; one sees wind and rain coming and the danger of fierce waves and raging seas, and so one dares not cross, cannot cross.

Friends, the sea of suffering is boundless; turning back is the shore. The obstacles of the cultivator are like black clouds rising on all sides, steaming up to veil the heavens; when they are cut off, it is like calm waves and still wind—secure and at ease—only then can one ferry across the sea of suffering.

Have you not heard what the Gaoshang Yuhuang Benxing Jijing (Scripture of the Jade Emperor’s Original Activities, also called the Huangjing, a Daoist classic on the Jade Emperor’s original conduct) says? It is only because sentient beings’ obstacles run deep that they cannot behold the compassionate countenance of the Shangdi (Supreme Emperor—in this scripture, the Jade Emperor). It also says: all such obstacles—each of you should cut them off. Therefore the Huangjing opens by speaking of cutting obstacles.

The method of cutting obstacles is to give rise to great wisdom: do not give rise to doubt; do not give rise to greed and anger; do not give rise to lust; do not give rise to jealousy; do not give rise to killing; do not give rise to ordinary feelings and ordinary thoughts (worldly emotions and ideas); do not give rise to dullness and defilement (torpor and taint); do not give rise to sound and form; do not give rise to right and wrong; and do not give rise to aversion and attachment, discrimination, arrogance, and clinging. Gather the spirit in stillness and clarify thought, so that the myriad spirits are subdued and harmonized (the mind-spirit is collected and the various faculties of consciousness are pacified and brought to rest). Let the heart be as empty and vast as the Great Void (Taixu)—inner and outer pure and bright, holding nothing it cannot contain, receiving nothing it cannot take in.

Do not let outer devils disturb the supreme Dao, drag you away from the True Source of the Dao (the root of the Great Dao), ruin the spiritual root (the foundation of innate spiritual nature), or steal away the supreme treasure (one’s most precious original authenticity). Otherwise one will fall for kalpas beyond counting into the ordinary world, caught in the net of the mundane; myriad demons will assail; for hundreds of thousands of kalpas one will not hear the wonderful teaching; ghosts and spirits will seize and punish; one will turn in birth and death. Therefore you should be single-minded in devotion (zhixin—sincere and undivided intent), well guard and uphold the True Source, and not let it be lost. As said before, each of you should cut off these obstacles yourselves. The admonitions above are all provisions concerning obstacles.

Unless these obstacles are cut off, the six senses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) will be defiled, and the three karmas—the deeds of body, speech, and mind—will entangle you without end, so tranquility cannot be achieved. Without tranquility, how can you behold the compassionate countenance of the Jade Emperor (Yuhuang Shangdi)? From where would the seventeen great illuminations and thirty meritorious qualities arise? Therefore the Jade Emperor’s illumination and merit make him the holy teacher of all buddhas and sovereign lord of the myriad heavens. The wondrous scripture in three scrolls and five grades is entirely the fruit of cutting off obstacles. People of the assembly, obstacles in the world are many; the Huangjing (Gaoshang Yuhuang Benxing Jijing, Scripture on the Jade Emperor’s Original Acts) only lists categories and examples so that you may grasp the general idea and understand the method of aligning with heavenly principle. You must understand: subtle obstacles in the world are countless as threads; each stirring of the heart and flicker of thought cannot be enumerated one by one.

For example, when reading and chanting scriptures, their profound meaning is hidden; if your own intelligence is limited and you cannot grasp it, you should know that the aperture of your heart is not yet clear and your light of wisdom is still small. If you then refuse to humble yourself and ask guidance from those more accomplished, that is dullness and defilement (a clouded, clinging mind). After understanding, you still doubt—fearing the person spoke untruth—you ask another, and when the two answers differ, your mind is troubled and crossroads multiply: is this not an obstacle? Again, companions recite together; the other finishes first while you lag, and irritation rises—is this not an obstacle? If you finish first while your companion is still awkward and you rejoice at that, is this not an obstacle? If you are capable and another is dull, and you harbor deceit, is this not an obstacle? If you see someone doing good—giving alms or performing meritorious acts—and you are poor while they are rich, jealousy arises; if you are rich while they are poor, only arrogance and self-importance (jiaojin) swell—is this not an obstacle?

Reading the classics, one may suddenly gain a flash of insight—having grasped only a little, one decides one is right and goes to preach to others; when someone of greater understanding appears, one refuses to accept it inwardly. Is this not an obstacle? Or again: in seated meditation and cultivation, one may by chance touch upon a subtle state and then boast of it. Is this not an obstacle? Or again: having heard a fine teaching, one clings to it fixedly in the mind, knowing only that one side and not how to adapt—is this not an obstacle? Or again: living among fellow practitioners and following a master to hear the Dao, when the master says others understand while you remain dull, you do not examine yourself but instead envy those who have gone ahead. Is this not an obstacle?

As for hoarding wealth and being unable to part with a single coin even at death; all emotional entanglements, attachments, and habitual cravings indulged without release, unwilling to cut them off—like being obsessed with zither, books, chess, or painting, with every sort of thought hanging as a blockage—these are all obstacles. Some people take talisman arts (the methods of drawing and applying talismans) for miraculous powers; others dismiss them as inferior methods of deliberate action (youwei). When others take pleasure in something, you grow jealous; when you cherish something, others grow averse—these too are obstacles.

Since you all seek to leave the world (chushi—to transcend worldly birth and death) and wish to escape the wheel of rebirth (lunhui), you ought to practice the work of leaving the world and preserve the path of transcendence. These obstacles are all ties and veils that block the spiritual gate (lingguan—the passageway of the heart-mind), miasmas that bewilder awakening. How then can you leave the world? If you are willing to cut off each obstacle one by one, sever the roots of entanglement, and dispel stray thoughts until your breast is as vast as the great void (taixu), the heart-mind becomes lively; everywhere it is rounded and clear, wisdom arises naturally, and the heaven of your nature (xingtian—the innate heart-nature) grows bright. Within it, the myriad subtle applications are precisely the pivot of life and death’s coming and going, the utmost of unity between Heaven and humankind (tianren heyi)—spontaneous and natural, not something the discriminating mind can know.

Ha! Obstacles—obstacles! It all comes down to whether everyone can cut them off. Then the precept master (the Dharma teacher who expounds discipline) taught the Dharma, speaking of the utmost unity of Heaven and humankind: it is spontaneous and natural, not something the mind of discrimination can grasp. Ha! Obstacles, obstacles!

Whether one can cut it off depends entirely on the assembly themselves. The Vinaya Master then taught the Dharma: “From the moment virtuous nature descends from Heaven, this bright mandate of Heaven is no empty show. When one can illumine the inner Spirit Platform—the mind’s place of clear awakening—even the finest detail cannot be hidden. Once the heart opens wide, the eye of discernment at once grows clear.”

Five. Abandoning and Cutting Off Aff Bonds

Assembly, you have already understood the harm of obstacles. Aff bonds—emotional entanglements and clinging that will not let go—are more severe still. Why? The mind of obstacle arises only when circumstances appear; when circumstances pass, it is empty again, so the harm comes and goes and is temporary. Aff bonds are the karmic root planted from beginningless kalpas down to this life. Therefore sages, immortals, and buddhas alike only exhort beings not to be attached to external appearances (zhuó xiàng), not to be bound and stuck, not to be greedy and clinging. Confucianism, Dao, and Buddhism all warn later generations not to be tangled by aff bonds. Aff bonds are the spring of every demon and the root of every harm.

Delusion life after life and falling for many births—all from aff bonds. Failing to attain liberation and not discerning True Emptiness (the truth of ultimate stillness and void)—all because of aff bonds. Living under the law’s punishment, dying and sinking into hell, meeting fire and water, dying in war and the blade—all from aff bonds. Cutting off heirs, breaking precepts and violating discipline—all from aff bonds. Nine generations bearing calamity, lineage and ritual offerings declining—all from aff bonds. Birth, aging, sickness, and death; perverse temperament; an unwell body; difficulty advancing in the Dao—all from aff bonds. The six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind) impure, the six thieves (afflictions that ride the six roots) rampant, the six consciousnesses (discriminations aroused when the six roots meet objects) wrongly dividing, sinking into the six paths of rebirth—all from aff bonds. Within Heaven and Earth and among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), the flourishing and withering of the ten thousand things and the arising and perishing of the ten thousand images—all from aff bonds. If you wish to leave the world and transcend birth and death, yet do not cut off and abandon aff bonds while expecting the mind to be clear, pure, liberated, and at ease—that has never been.

Speak first of aff bonds among lay people: ruler and minister, father and son, husband and wife, brother and friend. The former sages already explained the five presences, the five cessations, and the five deviations, and how when feeling moves it can still hit the mark; kin are close or distant by degree, and the worthy are honored high or low by rank. Starting from this innate empty-luminous quality of the human mind, add restraint and completion so each person rectifies nature and life (xìngmìng), and the whole cosmos can keep its greatest harmony.

In the undifferentiated primordial Qi—the Qi of heaven and earth when they were first merged as one—there is no longer any “love attachment” (aiyuan: clinging born from fondness and emotional ties) that still needs to be cast off; only then is the path purely natural quietude and liberation. That point will be explained more fully later. For now, speak only of those who have left home to cultivate—the lay patrons and devotees (tanxin) gathered here today to hear the teaching. You should purge extraneous love attachments completely. Even what seems legitimately lovable within proper bounds need not be clung to; every bond that looks like affinity but is destined to end should be seen clearly for what it is, restrained, and allowed to pass.

Everyone, love attachments bewilder people, yet you are wholly unaware. How so? When a thought stirs in the mind and you favor and dispatch yourself to chase after something, that is love attachment. Every object great or small, coarse or fine; every kinsman near or far; every matter inner or outer, crooked or straight, right or wrong; every method of the sages and of the Three Teachings—Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist; every principle in the classics and scriptures; every subtlety of heaven-and-earth, yin-yang, and cosmic creation; every marvelous, uncanny technique; every path of the Qingwei, Lingbao, and Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) lineages of Daoism; even famous mountains, grotto-heavens, celestial palaces and sacred realms; even the seven treasures and eight rarities, the River Chart (Hetu—a legendary auspicious diagram) and the omen of the spirit tortoise; your own body and mind, the five viscera and six bowels (internal organs), teeth, tongue, and essential Qi; mountains, rivers, great earth, grass, trees, birds, beasts, and insects—as soon as thought covets them, intention settles on them, the mind dwells on them, spirit concentrates on them, feeling lingers on them, nature delights in them, the mouth wants them, the body takes joy in them, and dreams wander among them, all of that is love attachment. As long as a single thought of it remains, you are bound and cannot attain quiet liberation; in the end you are only someone sunk in worry and suffering.

Fellow cultivators: Once you sink into obsession and clinging, love and entanglement arise; once you awaken, those bonds of affection die away. You must be aware in every moment and take responsibility for everything yourself. Whenever the mind attaches even slightly to something cherished, cast it off at once—do not let it rise again through circumstances. If you love sleep, you should sit in meditation; if you love sitting, you should walk. Rejoice in letting go, and the spirit naturally becomes lively; rejoice in having nothing, and the numinous nature naturally becomes empty and free. When you hold to nothing at all, the myriad entanglements do not arise. One who has awakened generates light within the heart, is not pulled by states, is not shaken by outer things, and is not disturbed by affairs. Over time, wonders arise without cause, and the yuanqiao (the innate vital aperture that Neidan adepts regard as where prenatal vitality opens) is opened.

If today you do not uproot it and tomorrow you do not cut it off—if you discard but not thoroughly and remain entangled—then robe and alms bowl become a net, straw sandals and bamboo staff become bonds, famous mountains and sacred sites become a prison, and senior brothers and Dao companions all turn into enemies. Even oral formulas and true words can become arsenic, and the authentic Dao mind can be twisted into the mind of an asura (a being in the six paths, fierce and fixated on karmic reward), seeking merit alone. Can you not be careful? Can you not grieve? Can you not endure the pain of letting go and cut it off completely?

Long ago there was a Daoist who, after meditating for a long time, saw a numinous vision: light above his head, the five colors bright and clear, like clouds and mist, like brocade. In the light he could see rivers, mountains, the earth, and the ten thousand things. His heart rejoiced; he thought he had obtained the great unobstructed light of Shangdi (the Supreme God). Thereafter he sat day and night, fixing his mind on that light—but the light no longer appeared. He did not understand that this was a phantom realm, not reality, and still strained to visualize it, forgetting the ten thousand thoughts, thinking only of brightness. After long fixation he became dull and stupefied, his body stiff as wood or earth; others thought he had entered the supreme Dao.

A certain Daoist practitioner spent six years in seated meditation practicing cunxiang (visualization)—the Daoist method of closing the eyes and inwardly contemplating scenes such as radiant light. His Shen (spirit) and awareness grew steady and concentrated, and even his physical form changed, though he himself did not notice. One day his breathing turned rough and rapid. His companions kept watch beside him, hoping that once he emerged from stillness they could seek the Dao from him. Only one cultivator among them saw that he had already zhaomo—gone astray in practice, caught by illusory visions.

Around midnight, the man in deep meditation suddenly spread his arms as if about to fly. The others lit lamps and candles and offered incense and flowers, bowing to him in reverence. He then ceased breathing, and a moth flew from his mouth and dashed into the flame, dying in the fire. The cultivator took the moth and told the Dao community: this body belonged to someone who practiced the path of visualizing light. Because he craved light and bonded with it, he became like a moth; when the yuan (karmic affinity) ripened, his form transformed and he passed into another species. If craving and yuan are not cut off, the outcome is always the same. How pitiful—and how urgent it is to sever them at once!

Whatever the mind clings to becomes yuan; yuan arises from clinging, and clinging in turn chases what yuan attaches to, so the two bind each other and release never comes. Thus in rebirth a father may become a son, a grandfather a grandson, a man a woman—face and body exchanged, name and lineage altered. Deluded ordinary people take this for reality—both dreadful and lamentable. The community should understand this.

Jiexing jingyan—“maintaining discipline and conduct with strict purity”—is the title of the sixth section: it means that holding precepts and how one acts must be refined and rigorous.

Those who cultivate the Way have already renounced emotional attachment and cast off worldly ties, sincerely seeking to leave the mundane world and resolve the matter of birth and death. If love and attachment are not severed and desire arises again, the heart remains entangled and falls back into the net and snare, so that liberation is ultimately impossible. One must guard against calamity before it shows itself; otherwise the effort of the past is wasted and future demonic obstacles cannot be avoided. Therefore one should follow the ancient sages and gather the mind within the precepts.

This “precept” is a demon-subduing pestle that suppresses evil spirits; a talisman that protects life and adds fortune and longevity; a ladder to heaven by which one may reverence the Three Pure Ones (Yuanshi Tianzun, Lingbao Tianzun, Daode Tianzun) and transcend the mundane to become sage; a lamp on the path that dispels the six desires (those arising from eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) and breaks through darkness; a immortal vessel and precious raft that ferries beings across the sea of suffering; a compassionate bridge and ford that leads beings out of the river of attachment. It is the safeguard of those who cultivate and the master outline of entering the Way. Immortals and sages have no other gate—they all enter through keeping precepts; sages and worthies have their own path, and all walk it through guarding precepts. Precepts are truly the thoroughfare and vital road of immortals and perfected ones, and the central gate and correct path of the wise.

The assembly, having through karmic ties from past lives in this life been able to hear the precept teaching, has received great good fortune; if one does not earnestly practice in strict accord with the precepts through diligent effort, that good fortune becomes a grave fault. Precepts are the prohibitions of the Primordial Metropolis—the rules set by Yuanshi, Lingbao, and Taishang—with the Heavenly Bureau of the Azure Heaven (Nüqing Tiancao) constantly inspecting, divine soldiers guarding, and heavenly generals patrolling. Those who observe them have merit recorded on red registers; those who violate them have faults written in black records. Not a thread or hair is missed; even as fine as a needle tip or hair, nothing is in error. Today many who receive precepts are ignorant. “Ignorant” means only that they have not yet understood this principle. Once understood, one should keep them strictly and not violate them; if one violates and goes against them, the black record notes the fault without omission, not a hair’s breadth off.

Today, most of those who receive the precepts do not understand what they mean. Why say they are ignorant? Simply because they have not grasped the rationale of the precepts. If one truly understood, one would hold them strictly and never break them; to violate the precepts is precisely to be ignorant. Therefore among the community, those who have already received the precepts must earnestly investigate this word “precept.” What is a precept? A precept is to forbid and to restrain. What is being restrained? And why did you receive the precepts in the first place? If you came for the sake of the precept teachings, you should practice them day after day (live by them and keep them); if you cannot keep them day after day, why receive them at all? Such an attitude is not coming for the precepts but from selfish motive—only to borrow the empty title of a precept-holding Daoist and to gain the master’s robe and bowl (the ritual garment and alms bowl). Otherwise, why not observe the pure rules?

When I think carefully about our Daoist tradition, ever since the Seven Perfected Ones (the seven patriarchs of the Quanzhen Northern lineage) spread the teaching, the vigor of the school has declined. Precepts and dignified deportment have not been clearly upheld in the world for four hundred years. It is only because no one in the tradition stepped forward to bear this responsibility; the lamp that illumines the Great Dao has never been trimmed and lit, practitioners walk in darkness, even the staff that supports the body has been cast aside, and they have lost their grip. No wonder heterodox paths flourish everywhere while the quiet, liberating, upright Way is seldom heard. Now fortunately the Dao’s fortune is rising again in an age of prosperity: above, the emperor’s blessing and peace under heaven; in the court many officials believe and turn toward goodness, protecting the true teaching within the tradition; and patrons (tanyue) give generously so that robes, headcloths, caps, and bowls are all ready at hand. This is hard to meet in a thousand lifetimes and rare in any age—it is all because your karmic ties from past lives have brought you to this moment. Having received the precept teachings, you ought to examine the word “precept” with care: what does precept mean? Alas, among those who receive the precepts, the wise and the foolish are mixed.

Foolish people who first came to receive the precepts still had good intentions at the start. Once the precepts were received, however, they hid and covered over their original mind and could not keep the precepts. Was that not a waste of the sincere heart they had when they took the precepts? A precept robe and precept cap—the garments and headcloth given at ordination to mark one as a precept-holder—were thrown away as if into the eastern ocean: some were pawned or sold, some were turned into everyday clothes, some were cut up to patch sleeves, insulting the celestial gods and ruining the sacred hall. The pure alms bowl (the clean bowl used at ordination, which should never be put to ordinary use) was turned into an incense burner and used to hold coins and rice. Then they broke fasting and precepts, drank wine and ate meat, and did whatever they pleased—wisdom extinguished, the root of becoming an immortal cut off.

Such cases can be matched one by one against ready-made precedents. Once there was a precept-holder who destroyed his precept conduct, defiled the precept scriptures, then sold the precept scriptures and precept garments, discarded the precept bowl, and suddenly died. He saw many ghost runners shackle him with chains and escort him to the underworld court. There stood an yamen of great majesty; ghost runners lined both sides, chaining many people—all fellow cultivators from daily life who had come here after death for breaking precepts. The precept-holder was greatly shocked and asked, “How did you all end up here too?” They said, “We do not know why; one after another we have all met here.” He saw a plaque above the gate bearing three large characters: “Examination and Verification Office.” He asked the ghost runners why it had that name. They said: These are newly established tribunals under the heavenly statutes, two in all, devoted solely to the precepts of monks and Daoists. Whenever anyone in the world of the living resolves to receive the precepts, the Earth God and Kitchen God register their name in the ledger.

On such-and-such a day one received precepts; on such-and-such a day one kept the precepts with merit; on such-and-such a day one transgressed—all must be written down. When someone broke a precept, someone betrayed the Way and failed their master, someone ruined the precepts and harmed the teaching, someone sold ritual vestments, someone defiled the alms bowl, someone slandered the precept master who transmitted the precepts, someone schemed against donors, someone was wicked, greedy for wealth, or indulged in lust—each item must be recorded in detail. Every month reports are submitted to the various offices for verification; they must first be checked in this office before they can be sent to the other departments.

Those who have received precepts, if their virtue is lofty and their commitment to the Way is strict, need not go to the Yin offices (the underworld bureaus that examine merit and demerit at death). Those who have not received precepts must in the end be examined and struck from the register in this office first, then be summoned to die within the allotted term; without having been reviewed by this office, the other departments will not sign warrants to take anyone. Disciples who have received the precepts, listen: this person who had died came back to life after one night and half a day and told this case for all to hear. You can scrutinize others’ faults with fine clarity, yet when it is your own fault you are entirely unaware. Day after day you indulgence yourself, piling up boundless karmic offenses, and still you conceal them—this is called deceiving your own heart.

Once you have received the precepts, day and night examine what you think in your mind and what you say with your mouth: if it is good, do it; if it is evil, correct it—do not cover up, do not excuse yourself. Before a fault has been discovered or you have yet to awaken to it, at once make a heartfelt confession before the sacred perfected ones (Sheng Zhen), study the precept scriptures and regulations in detail, and diligently seek out enlightened teachers to deepen your learning. Honor your teachers as you would your parents; honor your fellow practitioners as elder brothers; delight in the Way as you would in being close to a spouse; cherish the scriptures as you would fine jade.

To guard precepts is to guard them in the heart, like holding something in your hand: what you hold is lost the moment you let go; the precepts in your heart are broken the moment you slacken. The laws laid down by earthly kings bring punishment when violated; the Dao of Heaven—the Nüqing precepts (the heavenly precept texts in Daoism)—bring retribution when violated. Do not say the underworld court (Yinsi, the office that judges in the netherworld) is dark and unseen—life and death, birth and passing, all lie in your own heart. Do not say the precept spirits (deities who watch over observance of precepts) are hidden and do not appear—every going out and coming in is only in your own thoughts.

The four words “precept, practice, purity, and strictness” are explained thus: subduing the heart and yielding to the Dao is called precept (jie); patiently persisting in doing it is called practice (xing); not mixing in a single stray thought is called purity (jing); not transgressing in the slightest hair’s breadth is called strictness (yan). Not changing from beginning to end is called upholding precepts (chi jie); not wavering even in utmost poverty and hardship is called guarding precepts (shou jie).

You who have already received precepts cannot even remember what the ten precepts are. That is name without substance—why act this way! Yet one thing I must tell you, so you may follow it with confidence: the Lord of Heaven has always taken cherishing life as his heart; his compassion is vast, and he wishes to save all beings. If someone violates the precepts but from then on repents, if the true heart shines forth again and he again observes the precepts with purity and strictness, not daring to offend a second time—such earnest repentance will move Heaven’s heart to pity, pardon his faults, and let him return to his root nature (benyuan).

I will now relate another account of cause and effect—first violating precepts, then again guarding them—for you to hear. A precept-holder himself said: After receiving precepts I suddenly met with demonic trials; I broke fasting and violated precepts and did everything forbidden. One night in a dream I came to the underworld court and watched a trial. Many ghost judges in the netherworld lit gauze lamps and set out incense tables.

After a little while, he saw the King of the Underworld step out through the great gate, his retinue and majesty like those of an earthly Son of Heaven. Then he heard the judge announce: “The celestial envoy has arrived—quickly set out the incense table to receive the imperial decree,” just as in the yang-world offices when a decree is received. The envoy was an immortal official, wearing a golden lotus crown and a five-cloud crane cloak (a Daoist robe patterned with five-colored clouds and cranes), holding a yellow tube (the yellow case for the decree) as he handed the document inside; none of the ghosts could follow him in. The Daoist who had come here in the dream also wanted to enter, but a ghost soldier shouted: “Where did you wandering soul come from, daring to barge into this solemn hall?” Another ghost soldier said: “Judging by your dress, you do look like a Daoist.” That ghost said: “A few days ago the decree ordered: when anyone who cultivates the Way and keeps the precepts reaches the day of death’s end, he may enter in cap and robes; those with bright inner light enter by the main gate, those with faint light by the east side gate, and those with no light have their precept names struck from the register (the name recorded when one received the precepts), are shackled, and held outside the west side gate to be examined according to their tally. You, Daoist—there’s no bright light on you, only a mass of black qi, the same as me—yet you pretend to be a Daoist. Go, go!” As he spoke, he raised an iron staff and pressed forward. The precept-holder (an ordained cultivator) woke at once, the dream still vivid in his mind. He immediately got down from his meditation couch (the bench used for seated meditation and rest), hurried to wash his face, lit pure fire and incense, and was filled with fear; he repented in grief, corrected his past faults, and kept the precepts even more strictly.

Another day he again dreamed of wandering in the underworld (the yin realm), the same place as before. Ghost soldiers bearing iron staffs and chains knelt and asked: “May we ask where the immortal master wishes to go?” The precept-holder answered: “I have only wandered here in my travels; I dare not disturb the King—I will return now.” The ghost soldiers said: “The King surely has rules—we must ask where the immortal master intends to go.” The precept-holder again replied: “I wandered here in my travels; I dare not disturb the King—I am going back now.”

The ghost soldiers (underworld attendants) said: “Our king has a fixed rule: whenever an immortal elder whose precept practice shines passes through, he must sit in the tea hall so we can ask his name and title and enter them in the register for verification.” The disciple who kept the precepts answered: “I have no official business; I will not sit.” He turned at once—and suddenly left that realm. When he awoke, he told the assembly.

On the first journey he was beaten and scolded by ghosts; on the second he was received with kneeling welcome and asked his name—all because in his heart he had advanced in one case and fallen back in the other, and treatment differed accordingly. Had he not repented of his former faults, he would still have been his old self. Clearly the way of spirits and the way of the living world follow one principle; how can we not hold it in awe?

Assembly! Time slips away easily; let your inner nature stay bright. Do not wait until impermanence (death) arrives and you walk in the darkness of the underworld court (yinsi); Ox-Head grants no favors, and Horse-Face shows no partiality. Wrongdoing must be corrected at once—it all depends on strict, luminous precept practice. Among ten thousand methods and a thousand gates, cultivating the mind is the supreme path. The sea of suffering has no shore; follow the precepts, and wisdom will shine.

The first and greatest fault that cultivators find hardest to remove and hardest to put in order is a single character: chen—anger and resentment. When anger stirs, one either clings to the “mark of self” (taking the ego as too solid and too heavy) or clings to the “mark of others” (treating people as opponents). Within this anger lie the six desires and seven emotions; countless wrongs all arise from irascibility. Once anger moves, it is called the “karmic fire of ignorance” (the fire of karmic affliction lit by dullness and not-knowing). Among the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion, the poison of anger is one. If anger is not released, inward it burns oneself; outward, angry words burn others. It scorches the “spiritual pass” (the gate in body and mind where spirit flows) utterly clean and ruins the “Dharma body” (the pure body realized in cultivation). Then the six bowels cannot stay clear and at ease, and the five viscera cannot stay balanced. When the ears hear someone revile me, anger rises from the liver; flame meets gale, and the “root of hearing” (the faculty of hearing) suddenly seems blocked like a window shut and an orifice sealed. When the eyes see someone bully me, anger rises from the kidneys; flame meets gale, and the root of sight suddenly seems shut like a door barring the way. Without noticing, the mouth speaks angry words; hatred bursts from the heart; poisonous schemes well up in the gall: above, one fears neither Heaven, Earth, nor the spirits; in the middle, one fears not one’s own life and death; in the hidden realm, one fears not the oil cauldron or sword trees (hellish torments); before the magistrate one fears not beheading, strangulation, exile, or banishment—and with this speaking tongue one fashions a thousand kinds of karma. Why do ear, eye, mouth, and tongue suffer so? Only because this “fleshy clump of heart” (the ordinary blood-and-flesh mind) cannot be subdued, and relies on a little qi and blood to domineer and play the tyrant; when the affair passes and the mind calms, it turns cold again. The bodies of sentient beings in the world are all formed from qi and blood. This root of anger was planted long ago by the karmic fire of ignorance, from kalpas without beginning (endless past). So when things go as one wishes, there is joy; when they do not, joy turns into enmity.

When you meet circumstances that displease you and give rise to anger, that is the root of calamity that plunges you into the cycle of rebirth (the unending round of birth and death). Since you have already left home as monastics, your original aim was to escape birth and death; yet if the root of anger is not cut, the “poison dragon” (the qi of violent rage) will invade the celestial root (the key locus within inner cultivation where yang qi arises). If you wish your body to slip free of the world’s snares, it is because nature and life (xing and ming) matter above all; when this root of anger is not extinguished, qi blocks the moon cavern (the inner locus tied to life and essence in practice). Your original nature is good, but one burst of anger turns it into a poison dragon—do not kindle the fire of rage, for when it burns it harms the body. Life could endure, but one burst of anger turns it into a fierce tiger; toxic qi arises again and again, and when qi rushes wildly, true primordial vitality is lost. Not understanding the principle of birth and death comes from failing to cherish nature and life; nature and life cannot stand firm because fire-qi runs too strong. Then the six senses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) cannot be gathered, the limbs tremble and posture turns hollow and aggressive, the five faculties cannot function properly, fire-nature flares from every pore—harm on every side, cutting short the years heaven allots and shortening lifespan.

Assembly, to sever the root of anger, first subdue evil thoughts. What are evil thoughts? Inability to bear humiliation is an evil thought. The great sage Confucius said: “Guide people with generous gentleness, and do not repay what is without the Way.” If for a single day the heart cannot endure, for that single day one is still a bad person. How can a bad person enter the Way? One who cannot bear insult cannot tame the mind—like a poison dragon or fierce tiger, knowing only how to humiliate others and refusing to be humiliated oneself: competing to win, seizing the spotlight before others, venting temper and playing the tyrant, voice and bearing harsh. Playing the hero, posing as a bold champion; scrambling for fame and gain, boasting of merit and leaning on power, using strength to bully the weak, looking down on elders and trampling the small. Sometimes one eagerly serves the crowd, yet does not see that whoever can save people can also harm them. Sentient beings drift in delusion and never think deeply or far ahead; the Way of Heaven is skilled at requital, and grievances cannot be undone—always because the root of anger is never cut. One flash of anger must insult others; unwilling to be shamed oneself, one fails to see how vast the difference is between being insulted and insulting others. Assembly, this word “humiliation” covers an exceedingly wide range.

Suppose someone commits adultery with another man’s wife or concubine: he gives no thought to the shame brought upon her husband, her children, her ancestors, or her whole clan. Yet the moment someone commits adultery with his own wife or concubine, he flares up in anger and hatred, feeling that he has lost all face; he fears that if word gets out, not only he but also his parents’ and ancestors’ merit, and his descendants’ family reputation, will all be ruined—so he refuses to let the offender off, grabs knife or club, burns with rage, and at once a murderous intent arises. He never turns the thought around: “When others dishonor me, I react like this—if I dishonor them, how will they react?” The word “dishonor” covers a very wide range. Being dishonored by others and dishonoring others yourself are worlds apart.

If in this life your wife or daughter is violated, that is necessarily the ripening of karma from a previous life (causes carried over from past existences). The wrong of violating others’ wives and daughters in a past life becomes, in this life, your own wife or daughter being violated. That is the inevitable cause and inevitable effect among human beings. When you hear this, what will you do? If in this life your wife or daughter is violated, there must be prior-life karma; the debt of lusting after others’ wives and daughters in a past life becomes, in this life, others lusting after yours. That is a cause and effect that must occur among people. Having heard this, you must on no account stir up lustful thoughts again.

I speak plainly to the assembly: these people’s very lives exist because of lust. As long as the mind of lust is not uprooted, the root of birth and death is never cut. Because of lust there is the physical body (the flesh that decays); if you wish to leave the physical body behind, you must wash lust clean from the mind. Once lust is removed, only then can a Dharma-body (the true body that does not rise and fall with the flesh) be born within this decaying physical body, and thus birth and death be ended. This is sober truth—do not treat it as idle talk and let it pass.

He was about to leave the hall when he suddenly met his wife passing along the corridor. They came face to face before she could step aside. After thanking the host for the meal offering, this precept-holder departed. Having seen his wife by day, when he sat in meditation at night his mind still clung to her; he pictured her features in his heart, then rose to kneel before the incense and confess before lying down again.

Then he dreamed he had died and been reborn in a new womb. Grown up, he married a handsome wife and they lived in harmony. Once, going out, he saw a Daoist by the roadside begging alms and felt joy; he took him home, offered a vegetarian meal for merit, and called his wife out to meet him, then bowed his head to the ground. When he looked back and saw the Daoist beckoning his wife with his hand, rage flared in his heart; he got up, went straight into the kitchen, took a cleaver, and was about to strike him. He tripped, fell, and woke—still burning with anger—then realized it was a dream and broke out in a cold sweat. On reflection, the Daoist’s face in the dream was the very host who had given the meal at the rice shop; the wife in the dream was the woman he had met under that shop’s corridor.

Friends, this precept-holder had only just begun to apply himself. Though his precepts were firm, his dingli—the power of a mind settled and unmoved by outward circumstances—was not yet solid. What he saw by day, he thought of by night; suddenly false seeing and hearing arose. When deluded thoughts ran deep, entering a dream became a full jingjie (realm/experience).

There was also a cultivator whose observance of precepts was firm: he never spoke rashly and did not let his thoughts wander. When others insulted him, he did not brood on it; when struck he did not strike back, when reviled he did not answer back—he looked only at his own faults and did not fix blame on others. One day he was carrying a load on the road when a donkey came galloping toward him. He stepped aside to let it pass, but the donkey butted him with its head. Unable to dodge in time, he fell; the donkey tore his clothes with its teeth and then ran off.

One night a cultivator was seated in meditation. After entering deep absorption, his consciousness grew hazy. Suddenly a figure in white appeared to thank him and said: “I am the donkey that once bumped into you on the road. In distant past lives we had tied a knot of enmity and retribution; now that grievance is undone and we are both free. I am about to leave the bitter realms of suffering and be reborn as a human, and I came especially to tell you. On such-and-such a day next month, please come to such-and-such a place and perform deliverance rites for me”—meaning rites to help a being leave the suffering of karmic payback. With that, the figure vanished.

The cultivator had clearly seen and heard, and he knew it was real—yet it was neither fully dream nor fully waking. When he rose, he continued his usual meditation. On the appointed day the next month he went there and found the whole household joyful, as if celebrating good news. When he asked others, they said that very night this family had had a child. The cultivator was deeply shaken. He noted the name in secret and vowed to deliver himself first, and only then deliver others.

To the assembly: If you are such people, enmities rooted in the past may only be settled in this life. Disciples who have received precepts must arouse their own resolve: forbear insult, release grudges, bear hardship and difficulty, not counting shame, willingly accepting loss—resolving enmity, accepting karmic consequences, and subduing this mind, enduring everything. Grip the “precept knife”—using steadfast precepts to cut through afflictions—and constantly slash your own afflicted fire born of ignorance. At every moment wrap yourself in the word “forbearance” as in a garment. Let others scold and strike you; gladly accept being wronged; hear slander and follow with humiliation—yet none of it may break this single point of precept-mind. Even if you are unjustly implicated and suffer the penalties of the law; even if lightning strikes on a clear day, fire or thunder strikes, flood or banditry, wolf or tiger seizes you, plague or snake bites, demons press or ghosts delude, goblins cling or essences harm—even if the world twists words to ruin your name, enemies curse with vicious mouths and harm your kin, even to the point where you cannot flee and limbs are cut away—still this one point of precept-mind must not break.

Even when you reach the point where there is nowhere to flee, your limbs are cut away, you cannot dodge, and this body is destroyed—that too is entirely the karmic reckoning fixed by past causes and conditions, the limit of your allotted span arriving, hard to refuse. You can only accept it in peace, align with Heaven’s heart, pay old debts, and answer prior causes. Do not give rise to thoughts of resentment, lest you harm the precepts you have received. You should reflect: when others deceive me, after all I once deceived others; when others afflict me, I once afflicted others. As for meeting demons and hardships, suffering harm and disaster—all of it was made by your own hand in former lives; you reap what you sowed.

From the day you receive the precepts onward, all evil karma disperses as your mind turns, and naturally the six desires (those arising from eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) no longer arise, the three poisons (greed, anger, and delusion) are extinguished, body and mind grow light and strong, temperament settles in peace, distress subsides, and enmity is resolved.

Assembly: The resentment accumulated since beginningless time (the boundless past without a first beginning)—from today you should at once awaken conscience. Whatever wrongs, faults, and debts there are, you willingly bear them and repay each in turn; only by harming yourself to benefit others can you attain liberation. From then on you forever return to purity, merging again with the pure and undifferentiated source of the great void (taixu) and primordial chaos, preserve the spirit and dwell in silence (cunshen shoumo), and gradually ripen the perfect reward body (the complete body achieved through cultivation).

Otherwise, if debts from past kalpas you refuse to repay, and humiliation in this life you refuse to bear, retribution in lives to come will surely not spare you. How can this body transcend, this mind empty, this Dao be cultivated? You cannot even endure a few words now—how at the brink of birth and death will you depart in pure clarity?

Assembly: When you can endure, the fire of ignorance (wuming, delusion and folly) goes out and the five viscera naturally grow cool; when you can endure, the waters of the Jasper Pool (huachi—the place in the mouth where saliva gathers, in inner cultivation a metaphor for the elixir produced by refinement) arise and the six bowels naturally harmonize in ease; when you can endure, the other’s wish is fulfilled, resentment naturally dissolves, and you are at peace with one another.

When one can forbear, the breadth of mind embraces all things, and the heart naturally opens wide. As a rule, if someone insults me and I do not treat it as insult, that insult tends to return upon the one who offered it; if I insult others and they suffer humiliation, they will surely repay me with insult in turn.

When one can forbear, the heart’s qi stays even, liver fire does not flare, and it transforms into the green spirit of the east that relieves suffering (Qinghua Jiuku). When one can forbear, the spirit of the heart grows kind, heart fire does not blaze, and it transforms into the Southern Dipper that dispels calamity (Nandou Xiaozai). When one can forbear, fluid in the lungs arises and moistens the stomach throughout, transforming into the sweet dew of the Jade Pool (Yaochi Ganlu). When one can forbear, kidney essence is not wasted, distress at the upper and lower roots of primordial qi (Shangxia Yuan) is released, and it becomes the spirit spring of Xuanwu (Xuanwu Lingquan). When one can forbear, spleen earth does not dry out, the body feels light and at ease, and it becomes white snow and yellow sprouts (Baixue Huangya) in internal alchemy. When one can forbear, the cultivation body (Fashen) has no leakage, Dao qi and spirit can communicate, and a solemn, beautiful form appears before the eyes.

Those who forbear in affairs of state surely benefit the court; those who forbear at home surely benefit kin; those who forbear in themselves surely benefit the spirit; those who forbear in the heart surely benefit life and fate; those who forbear within the teaching surely benefit fellow practitioners (fazuan). Such are the goods of forbearance.

If one cannot forbear, the heart is not empty and still, the spirit is not clear and bright, qi is not strong, measure is not broad, the chest is not open, vow-power is not great, merit is not complete, practice is not finished, insight is not thorough, thought is not deep, wisdom is small, fortune and virtue are shallow, and the foundation is thin.

When one hears the Dao yet fails to understand it, cultivation meets obstruction at every step: others loathe and reject you, envy you, detest you, vex you, and treat you with contempt and neglect. Ghosts in the nether world often punish you; sleep brings fear and unrest; in broad daylight spirits rebuke you; and ailments such as scabies, leprosy, madness, and rashes arise. The roots of grievance from life after life are not cleared away, and retribution in lives to come grows heavier still. The sea of suffering already surges without rest—why needlessly stir up more waves?

Everyone, have you not heard? De (Virtue/Power) is the foundation; where there is forbearance, De becomes vast. Heaven shows no favoritism—it only aids those who possess De. Among you, the wise and the foolish differ: some lose De for the sake of wealth, some for beauty, some for pride and quarrels. Some are shamed because of money, some because of desire, some because of temper; outward causes differ, yet the humiliation is the same.

Confucius said: “In a moment of anger, one forgets oneself and one’s kin.” He also said: “When angry, think of the consequences.” Zengzi said: “Harbor resentment in the heart, and the heart cannot be upright.” How important this precept of forbearance is! How poisonous the harm of anger! Therefore the True Persons and founding patriarchs made renouncing anger the gateway, and forgetting anger the attainment of the Dao; they took patience as the means to subdue the restless mind, and forgetting insult as the fulfillment of the vow.

In the Scripture of Salvation from Suffering, Taiyi Celestial Venerable—the Celestial Venerable who saves from suffering—says: “The veil of flames turns into cool refreshment; the sword-trees become the fragrant Qian Grove (the grove of immortal trees in paradise). Transcending the three realms of suffering, one at last ascends to Yuanshi Heaven (the heaven where Yuanshi Celestial Venerable dwells).”

Everyone, wake up at once and hear this verse from me: Quickly remove the distinction between self and other; urgently awaken to the root of birth and death. Patience can quell the fire of anger; in empty space the True Body (one’s own original true nature) appears. The seven emotions subside as thoughts cease; a hundred acts of forbearance—this is what the ancients praised (as in Zhang Gongyi’s “hundred forbearances”). Only one who willingly bears karmic debt has truly escaped calamity. Myriad karmic obstacles all stem from past causes; what is owed and what is repaid are one and the same. The foolish, once wronged, blaze with anger, and a mass of karmic debt spreads dark and boundless.

Practitioners must above all guard against seeking advantage at others’ expense. When I take an unfair gain, the other party cannot rest content; grievance and hatred may persist through kalpas without release, and one drifts and sinks in that cycle. For this reason strife never ceases in the hall of purity. When right and wrong no longer grip the heart, the mind opens wide like heaven and earth. Immortals and asuras (those of combative temperament) walk different paths: cool, blessed ground often comes through forbearance. When the debt of endured insult is fully paid, cultivation on the Way is complete. This ordinary body has already come to seek the Way—why refuse to take loss? When rage fills the sky and the skin feels as if on fire, even the True Person without rank (our innate true nature, not fixed in any title) may meet the calamity of hungry ghosts.

Eight: Purifying Body and Mind

People of the assembly, now that you have received precepts and taken refuge, you should single-mindedly seek to leave the world and transcend birth and death. Those who truly transcend birth and death and leave the world behind carry the heart of the supreme vehicle—beyond death and beyond birth.

Friends, once you have taken the precepts and taken refuge in the Way, you should single-mindedly pursue transcendence—leaving the mundane world and escaping birth and death. Those who truly transcend birth and death possess the supreme vehicle of neither death nor birth. This Way simply inverts worldly dharmas (the laws and conduct of the mundane world); there is no separate Dharma apart from this. Worldly and transcendent dharmas differ only in the mind; what is applied as forward or reverse differs, yet in essence it is still one Dharma—not merely reversing things in favorable circumstances. Using the reverse within the forward, all dharmas return to no-Dharma, and even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom its workings; following the forward within the reverse, one Dharma disperses into ten thousand dharmas, and yin-yang transformations cannot escape its reckoning. This is not something forged with deliberate intent or pieced together by design; spirit, wisdom, and reason are naturally so—there was never a separate transcendent Dharma set up from the start.

Even so, who ultimately transcends the world? If one insists that a person must be sent from the world to somewhere outside it to count as transcendence, that is mistaken again. If one urges people to move their bodies to a place outside the world—heaven and earth are vast, the world is wide—where exactly is “outside the world”? Listen carefully, everyone: outside the world means outside worldly dharmas. Seeing through that worldly dharmas are not real, that deluded feelings are false, and that all meritorious acts of deliberate effort (consciously wrought virtue and deeds) are like dreams; that things in themselves are without trouble and events are not truly existent—only by keeping this mind pure can one go beyond the world.

Friends, how do we see that this mind can go outside the world? Heaven turns through clear and overcast weather yet cannot transcend; earth splits and collapses yet cannot transcend; sun and moon wax and wane yet cannot transcend; stars may fall far away yet cannot transcend; wind, clouds, thunder, rain, frost, snow, mist, and dew each have their limits yet cannot transcend; mountains crumble, stones are quarried, waters dry up, springs fail, grass withers, wood rots, metal is smelted, jade is shattered—all cannot transcend; people have birth and death yet cannot transcend; things grow strong and age yet cannot transcend; feelings run deep or shallow yet cannot transcend; breath inhales and exhales yet cannot transcend.

If the mind still distinguishes movement from stillness, it cannot leave the mundane world behind. If Jing (essence) leaks outward, it cannot leave the mundane world behind. If Shen (spirit) is dull and scattered, it cannot leave the mundane world behind. When power rises and falls and profit grows and shrinks, none of that can free you either. Every deliberate contrivance falls within formation, abiding, decay, and emptiness—the cycle of arising, aging, sickness, and death—so how could one truly go beyond the world?

Friends, the point is to discover transcendence within ordinary human affairs. The method of leaving the world does not lie in talk; it lies in turning this heart back to its source. Once you see that heaven and earth, the myriad things, and the ways of human life are not the path out, you understand that they are all caught in snares and confined within this world.

When the heart awakens to this and sees that nothing in heaven and earth lasts, and that worldly law and human sentiment are illusory, what then is the true spirit—the innate clarity that belongs to human beings? This true spirit has no form, scent, or sound. Say it is within, yet it is not limited to the body; say it is without, yet it does not come from outside. Every person possesses it; every thing is endowed with it. This is the Dharma King—the awakened lord of the true teaching—through whom one can go beyond the world.

Friends, this single true spirit, this Dharma King, pervades the cosmos from ancient times to the present. Nothing lacks it; no moment is without it—its significance is beyond measure. Buddhism calls it the wondrous luminous true mind; Confucianism calls it Bright Virtue and the ultimate good; Daoism calls it the Mother of the Dao of Perfect Brightness, also named the Ancestral Qi (the source of pre-heaven vital energy). It has many names, more than words can exhaust. That which knows heaven and earth, the myriad things, and the patterns of human affairs—where should you seek it? Right in the Great Learning’s “illuminate Bright Virtue and rest in the ultimate good.” That Bright Virtue and ultimate good dwell precisely in the Dao Mother—that is, the Ancestral Qi.

Bright virtue and supreme goodness dwell in the four cosmic phases of formation, abiding, decay, and emptiness, and in human birth, aging, sickness, and death, as well as in body and mind. Within all of this there is an authentic numinous spirit that is without formation or abiding, without decay or emptiness, without birth or aging, without sickness or death. From ancient times to the present it has always been present and never dimmed; it pervades heaven and earth and moves in and out of the hidden realm. It is unborn and unchanging, neither more nor less, neither lacking nor surplus, neither coming nor going. It can turn Yin-Yang without being blocked by them, can subdue ghosts and spirits without being trapped by them, can command the ten thousand things without being pulled off course by them, can guide human feelings without being shaken by them, and can respond to worldly dharmas without drowning in them. It can transcend the world and also abide within it. In the three realms—desire, form, and formlessness—it moves freely without constraint, governs all numinous beings, and transforms in ways that penetrate mystery and cannot be fathomed. Above heaven and below earth, nothing is more exalted; nothing stands beside it.

Yet this authentic spirit is in everyone, and almost no one can clearly see it. The myriad methods, the three vehicles (voice-hearer, pratyekabuddha, and bodhisattva), and the whole treasury of teachings all arise from here. Every subtle point and hidden turning, once understood, is right before the eyes; once lost, it is as if one has sunk to the bottom of the sea.

Everyone should know: leaving the world to cultivate cannot be separated from the two words “body” and “mind.” The body is false; the mind is true. Go one step further: the mind is also false, and nature (xing) alone is true. You must understand cultivating the true by borrowing the false. Outwardly false, inwardly true: outwardly appearance, inwardly emptiness. Without relying on the active, conditioned physical body, it is hard to complete the inner, non-active Dharma body (dharmakaya). Without this body subject to birth, aging, sickness, and death, it is hard to clarify the inner mind that is clear, complete, and full. Without this lively, responsive mind, it is hard to transcend and realize the vast, boundless nature.

This nature comes from heavenly endowment. At the beginning of life it is utterly unstained, of the same substance and measure as the great void (tai xu): empty and open, as if holding nothing, yet whole and complete, omitting nothing.

If you wish to seek the way beyond the world, you must first each purify body and mind. What, then, is the work of purifying body and mind?

The body becomes a burden precisely because it is produced through the transformation of blood and Qi. Blood and Qi are not imperishable; they are the very root of birth and death and the foundation of misfortune. They weigh on the mind and wound one’s true nature. Craving beauty and indulging desire are only ways of seeking pleasure for this body; scrambling for fame and gain are only ways of securing comfort for it. Breaking the law and suffering punishment, meeting disaster and falling ill—all of these arise from this body.

The Supreme Venerable (Taishang Laojun, author of the Daodejing) said: “The reason people have cares is that they have a body; if they had no body, what cares would they have?” The ancients also said: “One who is not dragged down by physical form is already an immortal of the Great Canopy Heaven (Daluo).” Clearly the harm this body brings is no small matter.

Today you must see through to this: the physical shell is an illusory thing, compounded from the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind. Yet if one speaks of cultivation without going all the way, and only exhorts people to fulfill filial duty, you may reply: “Hair and skin are received from one’s parents and must not be injured.” Father’s Jing (essence) and mother’s blood, condensed through Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), receive the refined Qi of Heaven and Earth and gain the divine efficacy of Yin and Yang. The head is round in accord with Heaven, the feet square in accord with Earth; standing between Heaven and Earth, humankind ranks with them as the third of the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity). Among the myriad things, the human being comes first. Above, one may harmonize with Heaven and Earth; in the hidden realm, one may assist ghosts and spirits; through learning one may aspire to the sages; through cultivation one may attain immortality or buddhahood. How then can one treat this most honored body, endowed with the fullest gifts, as foul dung?

Such words are spoken only so that you who receive the precepts today will refuse to sink, and will not drift with the waves of the world. Do not seek ease for the fleshly body (se shen); only hope that the true nature may return to true constancy (the eternal, authentic nature). Let ambition be able to command Yin and Yang; let form and Shen (spirit) jointly adorn the Dharma realm. If the Dharma body still leaks and is not yet pure, one cannot reach the wonder in which form and spirit are both perfected and united with the Dao in truth.

Assembly, I now explain to you the work of Purification. If you would make this body pure, first cast off worldly things, cut off worldly desire from afar, and in all conduct depart from ordinary worldly ways.

To be content with simplicity, to delight in quiet leisure, to abstain from rich and sweet foods, and to keep away from clamor — these are the foundations. Take refuge in the Three Treasures (Dao, Scripture, and Master), and guard the One Truth (your innate true nature). Cultivate a peaceful disposition; keep hands and feet orderly and restrained. Do not let the eyes look askew or the ears listen to what is corrupt; do not let thoughts scatter; do not harbor schemes and calculations in the heart; do not shout loudly with the mouth. Gather the spirit-light of both eyes inward to illumine the Lingtai (the seat of mind-spirit) without dimness; turn the subtle openings of both ears inward, and constantly hear the natural sound of heaven (tianlai — the inherent resonance of the Way). Speak little and enter silence; return to what is natural and do not act rashly. Hope to be free of regret and stinginess; let the mind not drift; let spirit not be agitated; let the Tianji (heavenly mechanism) be clear and unobstructed; let profound principle (xuanli) merge and penetrate. Cut off meat and strong flavors from the mouth, and quietly dissolve the karmic debts of many lifetimes of killing. Let the body observe precepts, and silently practice the four deportments of walking, standing, sitting, and lying. When the steps are not disorderly, the heart is not flustered; when the hands do not move recklessly, the heart is not restless. In sitting, be upright and centered, without leaning; in lying down, remain spiritually awake, avoiding greedy sleep and dull slumber; in eating, prefer plain food and reduce heavy flavors, so the five viscera stay pure and calm; in speaking, be cautious and unhurried, so the voice is harmonious and smooth. This is called the more outward level of bodily clarity and stillness.

As for the finer work, you must investigate the two characters “qing” (clarity) and “jing” (stillness). What is feared is not that you will earnestly cultivate with all your heart and yet fail to attain the Way, but that you will not throw your heart into genuine practice.

Assembly: To have no second thought in the heart is called clarity; for thoughts not to be mixed and confused is called stillness. For the heart not to cling to appearances is clarity; for thoughts not to stick and stagnate is stillness. For every thought to be perfectly round and bright is clarity; for light to be without obstruction is stillness. To be without a speck of dust is clarity; for myriad concerns to be empty is stillness. For the myriad things not to be able to hide their forms is clarity; for ghosts and spirits not to be able to fathom its subtlety is stillness. For the heart to be like flowing water is clarity; for the nature to be like the bright moon is stillness. For guilt from beginningless time to be extinguished is clarity; for causes from many kalpas past to be fully illumined is stillness. Looking inward at the heart — the heart originally has no heart — is clarity; looking outward at things — things originally have no things — is stillness. When these three are all realized, it is clarity; when one sees only emptiness, it is stillness.

Contemplating emptiness and then letting go of even this “emptiness” is what is meant at this level. Penetrating fully all causes from countless kalpas (aeons) in the distant past is called clarity (qing). Looking inward at the mind, finding no substantial mind within, is called purity (qing). Looking outward at things, finding no substantial things within them, is called stillness (jing). When these three levels are all understood, it is called clarity; when before the eyes there is only emptiness, it is called stillness. Contemplating emptiness and then emptying that emptiness too is called clarity; when emptiness reaches the point that nothing remains to empty, it is called stillness. What was emptied is already gone, and even “nothing” no longer exists—this is called clarity; limpid and ever silent, when silence reaches the point that nothing remains to be silent about, this is called stillness. Responding to affairs with the nature of true constancy is called clarity; responding moment by moment yet remaining ever still is called stillness. Penetrating and bright, never dim or confused, is called clarity; entering the gate of all wonders (the master gateway to the subtlety of the ten thousand things) is called stillness. Transcending the three realms (desire, form, and formlessness) is called clarity; shaking off the fetters of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) is called stillness. Shattering the void is called clarity; pulverizing the void utterly is called stillness. Light gathers in the heavens is called clarity; universally saving all sentient beings is called stillness.

Friends, in this teaching I have spoken only in broad outline. Sages of the three teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism) and the great canonical scriptures, the myriad methods and thousand gates, the subtle uses of all heavens, the thirty-six thousand paths and eighty-four thousand approaches, bodhisattvas as numerous as sands of the Ganges, and innumerable golden immortals (deified perfected ones)—none can go beyond this wondrous method of quietude (qingjing), concentration and insight (dinghui), and Wuwei (non-action). The supreme, unsurpassed great vehicle’s highest, true, wondrous Dao (the Way): the arising of Heaven, Earth, humankind, and the ten thousand things all proceeds from quietude. The Supreme Lord (Taishang) said: “If a person can constantly be quiet, Heaven and Earth will turn toward him.” He also said: “When there is quietude, the world is set right.” Clearly, if you wish to quiet body and mind, hurry to seek awakening.

From today onward, you must set aside all the metaphors you have clung to in daily life—lead and mercury, dragon and tiger, yin and yang, firing and refining, and the like—and rely solely on the method of quietude: extinguish the deluded mind and stop wrongful thoughts, walking steadily on the great middle path; it will not mislead you. This is what is meant by preferring to go slowly rather than take the wrong road, and when there is a straight path, not risking a boat on dangerous waters. If I deceive you with false words, may I fall into hell.

At that time the lecturer (the presiding master) also spoke a verse: “When thoughts are scattered, the mind is not still; when dust-stains are heavy, the body is not clear. Without clarity, it is hard to see one’s true nature; without stillness, how can desire not arise?”

Inward contemplation reveals the body as illusion; returning the light (xin guang shining inward) empties the heart as well. In emptiness and stillness, spirit (yuanshen, the original spirit) appears of itself. Ding and hui—settled clarity and luminous awareness—are the true root teaching. One must heed sun and moon (as figures for yin and yang) and, in ordinary days, embody the practice in body and conduct. Reversing the usual course while “holding the Dipper’s handle” (the handle of the Northern Dipper, a figure for the inner pivot), in purity and stillness one aligns with the Heart of Heaven.

IX. Seeking a Master and Asking the Way

From antiquity, when sages, immortals, and buddhas completed the fruit and became true, none could cross over without a teacher. So master and disciple pass the teaching down line by line, mouth to mouth, heart to heart. The meaning within is one thread throughout—like milk blending with water, like glue and lacquer binding, like qi of the same kind finding each other and voices of the same tone answering each other.

Since ancient times, sages, immortals, and buddhas who attained fruition and realized truth did so only through being guided and transformed by a master. Thus generation after generation masters passed the teaching mouth to mouth and heart to heart, with one continuous thread of principle. When master and disciple truly match, like milk mingling with water or lacquer binding to lacquer, like kindred spirits seeking one another and like voices answering in harmony, sky and water one color and lamp and flame shining together—that is what it means to fulfill the way of master and disciple.

Friends, many people in the world seek a master and the Way, yet most fall short by one layer: they have only the name of master–disciple transmission, not the reality of truly passing on the Way. Today I speak openly, not fearing others’ talk, and explain this principle to you—be sure to keep it in your hearts. Later, when you first serve as someone else’s disciple, you can uphold this decorum; when you yourself become a master, your disciples will naturally follow the example of the ancients. Honoring the master is precisely for the sake of honoring the Way.

Blind and foolish people in the world do not know their own mind and merely drift with outer things. Though they have a thought of the Way, they cannot tell the gate of orthodoxy from heterodoxy; though they have a heart for the Way, they do not know the method of cultivation. Hearing others say, “Nature is realized by oneself; life depends on transmission from the master” (xing is awakened on one’s own, ming must be passed by the teacher), they set out to act accordingly. They may meet Daoists wandering the four directions: patched robe and straw sandals, palm-leaf fan in hand, meditation cushion on the back, passing through cities; or sitting at a street corner with a bowl to beg for food, or walking slowly on the road, all ease and freedom. Where there is a palace or temple they take lodging; where there is a shrine they stay the night. From their mouths pour lofty talk of elixir formulas, tongues like flutes and reeds, speaking of the single aperture of the mysterious pass (the key opening spoken of in Neidan), the weilü and haidi (the sacral region and perineal area), from the mud-pill palace above (the upper dantian within the head) down to the yongquan point (the acupoint at the sole of the foot); they also speak of guarding the center and raising qi, establishing the cauldron and setting the furnace (settling body and mind as the alchemical vessel), prolonging life and dispelling illness, massage and daoyin, the Six-Character Formula and Baduanjin, and elixir classics such as the Wuzhen pian and Cantong qi.

In the alchemical classics, the metaphors never end: lead and mercury, dragon and tiger, silver and cinnabar as husband and wife, sun and moon tied to the hexagram lines, tortoise and serpent nurturing each other in warmth, as well as bathing, forming the embryo, entering the chamber to sit in completion (closed retreat in seated meditation), issuing the yin spirit, issuing the yang spirit—the list could go on and on. Then there are the so-called three thousand six hundred side paths and eighty-four thousand magical arts—who could count them all? Everyone, these blind and foolish people lack wisdom; they cannot tell true from false or orthodox from deviant, and when they hear such talk from self-styled Daoists they believe it. What is even more hateful is another crowd: heterodox teachers who fixate on “cauldron vessels,” swindlers who refine “straw silver,” who use physical allure to move people and use money to bewitch them. Setting aside whether any such genuine method exists at all—even if it did, could ordinary people turn stone to gold, or could the lecherous extend their years? Therefore those who talk endlessly about cauldron vessels, at the sight of beauty their minds stir, in the face of objects their thoughts move; soul flies and spirit scatters, true mercury (the essential vitality) drains downward, the root of the pre-heaven self is overturned, the supreme treasure falls empty, and many end up with consumption illness. Not only do they fail to prolong life—they cut off the very root of life. It is both hateful and pitiable. As for the swindlers who burn and refine straw silver, who speak of sand and ore and of one turn, two turns, warming and opening the point—their tricks to deceive are endless; the foolish and greedy often lose their entire households because of them, and their fault weighs many times heavier than that of the false Daoists mentioned before. I cannot bear to go into detail, lest I invite slander. Those who have already received the precepts should listen as I briefly set out the main points of seeking a teacher and inquiring into the Way. Everyone: this Way of the August Heaven is dim and indistinct, dark and silent— utterly vast, utterly lofty, utterly hidden, utterly subtle; outwardly without boundary, inwardly without end.

This passage speaks of the Great Dao—the One True (authentic spirit, true numinous nature) that everyone inherently possesses. It can weave through heaven and earth and govern the four directions; it can enter the dark and the mysterious realm. It seems to be yet seems not to be; it enters water without getting wet and fire without being burned. Before it there is no “ancient,” after it there is no “present,” yet it nourishes heaven and earth, drives the sun and moon, nurtures the ten thousand things, gives rise to sages, and also completes immortals and buddhas. Whatever can move and whatever holds numinous life—from insects and plants downward—there is no person who does not have it, no place where it is absent. Ordinary daily affairs are all the subtle Dao. Only because people use it every day without knowing it, and because lower persons (those of shallow capacity who hear the Dao without awakening) are confused and cannot grasp it, this One True is lost along with them; even through ten thousand kalpas it is hard to understand. Before one’s parents conceived one, the true spirit did not know where it began; after the spirit departs, this body does not know where it ends. Thus one falls upside-down into the cycle of rebirth and suffers the distress of birth and death. Therefore the source must be pointed out, so people are urged to seek a true master quickly and hear the supreme Dao early.

Yet a true master is hard to meet, and an outstanding disciple is hard to find. If a disciple lacks a genuine heart that seeks to leave the world of suffering, wisdom-nature is obscured; even if a true master appears, spirits and gods will not let him be seen—they cover his wisdom-nature—and if he sees him he will not recognize him as a true master. If a master lacks a universal heart to deliver the world (the broad will to save all beings), even when an outstanding disciple appears, spirits and gods likewise will not let him be seen—they cover his dharma-eye (the eye that discerns authentic teaching)—and if he sees him there is no karmic affinity; many pass each other face to face and miss the chance.

Listen, all of you: a master seeking a disciple is like rolling a mustard seed and trying to hit the point of a needle; a disciple seeking a master is like trying to catch the moon in water. A true master is rarely obtained, an outstanding disciple is hard to seek—not because of wealth or treasure, but solely because of whether this one thought of mind is sincere. Would a master who has the Dao carelessly transmit the Dao to someone who is not upright? Would a seeker of high attainment carelessly take a master? Since the master will not transmit carelessly, he holds the supreme Dao and goes to seek an outstanding disciple; since the disciple will not take a master carelessly, his discernment is already sharp and he is already watchful and looking.

Suppose there are people who will not lightly seek out a master or bow to just any Daoist practitioner at random. With no inner obstruction, their aspirations remain in the dust and bustle of the world, yet their vision is already broad and their hearts spacious. When they meet a teacher who truly has the Dao, they see clearly at once—they can speak of it and recognize it thoroughly. Even a single phrase or half a sentence fits like a mustard seed passing through the eye of a needle.

Suppose there are teachers who do not casually take disciples or lightly transmit and confer the teaching at random. When they meet such an accomplished disciple, how could they not respond with joy and speak freely? Subtle oral formulas, genuine meaning, hidden workings of Heaven that should not be lightly disclosed, and profound secret truths—all are transmitted mind-to-mind as the highest Dao, and the heavenly chapters are conferred directly by mouth. This is how it is.

Assembly, true teachers are not scarce, and disciples are plentiful too. Why say true teachers are not scarce? What your six senses receive all holds teachers within. If the ear hears good words and you follow them in sincere faith, then the faculty of hearing is the introducing master, and those good words are the teaching master. The other five senses work the same way.

Assembly, in learning there is no fixed master—only the Dao is master. Whenever the ear hears fine and wholesome speech, listen with concentrated attention, as if sweet dew fell upon the mind or the purest ghee were poured over the crown. Silently give thanks in the heart that this person has opened your ignorance, pointed the way with compassion and skillful means, and wish that the one who spoke these good words may soon attain profound accomplishment and the supreme Dao. Is that not master and disciple?

If the eye sees all scriptures, the texts of the Three Teachings, and true words and secret formulas, and the mind is awakened thereby, you should bow and praise in gratitude. Such writing is the teaching master; the faculty of sight is the introducing master. Assembly, in seeking a master and asking about the Dao, you cannot cling to one method alone, nor rely on a single path only.

As long as you recognize the Way with genuine clarity and hold firm faith, master and disciple will naturally meet. Yet the master’s compassionate ferry—the skillful means by which one is guided across—does not take a single form; you cannot cling to one method alone or rely on only one path.

Mencius said: “There are many ways to teach. Some nourish people like timely rain; some complete their virtue; some develop their talents; some answer their doubts; some cause people to receive benefit through private reverence and study. Even refusing to instruct can itself be a form of instruction.”

Thus some meet on the road, talk in passing, and at once feel kinship; others know each other until their hair turns white yet remain as strangers as on the first day. Some receive transmission after kneeling and bowing; others only after offering gifts and taking vows. Respect is the inward attitude that should exist before ritual is performed; outward show of respect without sincere intent is not true respect. What matters is whether the disciple is sincere, trustworthy, and devoted to the master and the Way.

Therefore some transmit only after repeated tests—as when Zhongli Quan (style name Yunfang) tested Lü Dongbin ten times; some will not appear until the seeker humbles himself and comes again and again, as when Liu Bei (style name Xuande) thrice visited the thatched cottage. Some follow the master for years without wavering in resolve; some, though they see the other’s sincerity, deliberately impose hardship as trial. Is transmitting the Way and handing down the craft a small matter—something lightly obtained? Hence the saying “three mouths do not speak; six ears do not transmit”—meaning do not speak in improper company, and do not pass secrets where a third person may hear. Supreme teaching is not given to those of middling or lower capacity; middling or lower teaching is not given to those of highest wisdom—instruction must suit the person. As under Confucius: when Ran You (Ran Qiu) asked, “Shall I put it into practice as soon as I hear it?” Confucius said, “Put it into practice as soon as you hear it.” When Zilu (Zhong You) asked the same, Confucius said, “You still have father and elder brother—how can you put it into practice as soon as you hear it?” Ran You was retiring, so he was encouraged; Zilu was competitive and would act as if one man could do the work of two, so he was restrained. These answers must not be swapped or applied to the wrong case.

When Gong Xihu heard these words on two occasions, doubt arose in his mind. Many in the Master’s circle asked about ren (humaneness), yet the answers differed—and the reason lies here: some received the teaching with genuine faith, while others merely happened to overhear it. It may be explained to those who truly believe and accept; it must not be explained to those who merely pass by and listen by chance. Therefore it is said: do not treat what comes easily as something ordinary and unremarkable.

When the Way is taught to hundreds or thousands, the wise find it easy to grasp, while the dull find it hard to put into practice. Even if the hidden meaning is spoken aloud and made perfectly clear, only those with the will to receive instruction can retain it; those who have the will but lack the affinity are like wind passing through the ears—they hear but do not take it to heart.

Shakyamuni Buddha once held up a flower before the assembly and said, “I have the subtle clear true nature, the wondrous mind of nirvana, the treasury of the true dharma eye—do you see it?” Only Kashyapa smiled at the flower. This was teaching openly before the crowd on one level, while secretly transmitting the heart-mind: mind answering to mind, mouth passing to mouth—yet the assembly did not know what was being transmitted or what was being received.

Confucius likewise once said to Zengzi in the presence of his disciples: “Shen, my Way is threaded through by a single root.” Zengzi replied, “Yes.” At that time there were many disciples present; it was the sage teaching the Way before the multitude, while Zengzi alone among his peers entered into accord. The others did not recognize their own minds; though they encountered it, it was as if they had not. They did not know what was transmitted or what was awakened. Zengzi deeply understood self-nature and naturally aligned in secret with the sage’s mind. Long ago, when the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan went to Mount Kongtong to seek the Way, it was the same: those who did not know their own minds encountered it yet did not truly meet it; only those who deeply understood self-nature naturally merged with the sage’s mind.

In ancient times, Xuanyuan Huangdi—the legendary sage ruler of antiquity—went to Kongtong Mountain to seek the Dao from Guang Chengzi, an ancient immortal and a figure tradition holds as one who attained the Way. Huangdi pleaded again and again, but Guang Chengzi would not consent. Huangdi then withdrew to observe purification and quiet fasting, living in seclusion for three months before returning. He approached from the leeward side to welcome him, advanced on his knees, and with humble, yielding demeanor asked for the essential principles of the supreme Dao. Only then did Guang Chengzi speak: “The subtlety of the Dao is profound and hidden in darkness; its utmost reach is dim and without sound. Do not look outward or listen outward; embrace and guard the spirit (Shen) and rest in quiet purity (qingjing), and the body will naturally be upright. You must be pure and still; do not wear out the body, do not stir the essence and qi (Jing and Qi), and do not let thoughts race without end—only then can you attain long life. Be cautious outwardly and gather yourself inwardly; too much cleverness harms the work. I hold fast to the ‘One’ and abide in harmony, and so for twelve hundred years I have not aged.”

What he spoke to Huangdi face to face was essentially these few lines; when he finished, he said no more. If you follow them, that is up to you; if you do not, that too is up to you. This is what it means for each person to fulfill their own path.

Friends: Within the Daoist tradition, the Daode Jing and the Nanhua Jing (the Zhuangzi) hold many profound meanings; the Chongxu Jing (the Liezi) and the Wenshi Jing also contain much true teaching. Add to these the scriptures of the Three Caverns and Four Supplements (Sandong sifu) and thirty-six divisions of extraordinary books—the canon is vast indeed. Who can cleanse the ears and reverently listen to the subtle truth in the sacred scriptures, open the eyes of insight, and penetrate the Dao beyond words? Without awakening, the heart-mind stays dark; even if a sagely teacher appears, you will not recognize him.

Friends: Before you seek a master, first seek within yourself; before you ask about the Dao, first question your own heart. Unless you practice according to the precepts, it will be very hard to receive confirmation of the great Dao from an enlightened master. The crux of the matter is that you must humble and restrain yourselves, utterly remove the heart of arrogance and self-importance (gonggao woman), and become gentle and modest.

First, remove every thought of slander and jealousy. When you meet others, do not boast of your own abilities; guard against the possibility that someone else’s skill is no less than yours. If you encounter a perceptive adept whose discernment is sharp, or someone whose heart is already empty and clear and whose resolve is firm, a sentence or two from them may cut straight through your words midway—you will have no way to argue your way out. Then it is like a corpse laid bare when the snow melts: the truth stands fully exposed, and you cannot deceive those with real insight.

I now earnestly advise you all: to seek a teacher and inquire into the Dao is not a matter of kowtowing a few times before a master and calling out “Master” a few times and considering the matter finished. Today ordained disciples slight their teachers and neglect the Dao everywhere one looks. You must quickly turn back and examine yourselves, repent before the patriarchs of every generation for contempt and arrogance, cast off old habits, and revere the treasured teachings of the tradition—the scriptures and precepts the Dao holds sacred. If your heart is truly sincere and you earnestly seek a clear-sighted master, Heaven will not shortchange you; the perfected immortals (xianzhen) need not be chased—they will come of themselves. You need not fixate on how far you must travel or how soon or late the meeting will be.

Hear my verse: In seeking a teacher, first restrain yourself; in asking about the Dao, your intention must be genuine. Only with a sincere heart can you awaken to the Dao; only with earnest intent will you meet a worthy affinity. Such an affinity is hard to meet even across myriad kalpas; through a thousand lives you have arrived at this day. If you can understand what I say, you may suddenly awaken to the root that has not yet arisen.

Bi Yuan Tan Jing (Jade Garden Platform Scripture), middle fascicle. X. “Dinghui dengchi”: samadhi (ding) and wisdom (hui) are upheld together—balanced on both sides, neither leaning toward blank stillness nor toward clever understanding alone.

Fellow Daoists: Those who have already received the Precepts of Initial Truth (the ten basic precepts for first entering the path) and wish to go on and receive the Middle Ultimate precepts must first, in secret, earnestly uphold and actually practice the subtle virtuous conduct in those ten Initial Truth precepts; only then may they proceed to receive the three hundred great Middle Ultimate precepts.

What is the difference between the Middle Ultimate precepts and the Initial Truth precepts? In principle, one precept already embraces all precepts, and one truth already embraces all truth. Why then, after Initial Truth, is there Middle Ultimate, and after Middle Ultimate there are the wondrous Celestial Immortal precepts, with a clear order of before and after? The point is in fact easy to see; I will set it out for you now.

The ten Initial Truth precepts you have received are meant to restrain the physical body (the flesh body), so that amid wind and waves you can hold yourselves steady and not allow reckless disorder in action or irregular rising and resting. The three hundred great Middle Ultimate precepts teach you to subdue the stubborn, unruly mind and not allow idle fantasies or a scattered heart and intent. The wondrous Celestial Immortal precepts (the refined precept teaching of Celestial Immortal rank) teach you to liberate true intent and not allow clinging and attachment.

The ten Initial Truth precepts are relatively coarse; the three hundred Middle Ultimate precepts are finer. Initial Truth precepts restrain the six roots outwardly (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind); Middle Ultimate precepts sweep away the six defilements inwardly (form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects). The wondrous Celestial Immortal precepts enable the three bodies to attain liberation, the eight consciousnesses to be extinguished, and the nine demons and ten difficulties no longer dare to invade.

The Initial Truth precepts were established because you have awakened to past faults, deeply repented old errors, and reflect that life’s span is limited and birth and death are uncertain. Since you left home to become Daoist priests, you are called Quanzhen (Complete Perfection, “preserving one’s original authenticity”). Yet think carefully: from the day you left home until now, when have you truly perfected any authenticity? You let the years slip by in vain and grow old step by step like laypeople.

Think about it carefully: from the day you left home until now, have you ever truly achieved anything “authentic” in cultivation? Year after year you have let time slip away, growing old little by little no differently from laypeople. Day after day you cross mountains and wade rivers, rushing north and south; though you may have paid homage at a few famous peaks, you have merely seen a bit more rock and timber than ordinary folk—ultimately as exhausting as laypeople going out to trade and do business. Sleeping in the wind and eating in the open—what was it all for? Have you ever met an immortal? The oral formulas passed around are nothing but what laypeople up and down the line repeat to one another. With their worldly eyes and mortal flesh, they recite a few pages from the elixir scriptures (classics on cultivation), memorize scraps of phrases by rote, and call that “swallowing stones”—swallowed but never digested, with no sense of the flavor at all. Thus they are no different from laypeople; how could they transcend the world and rise above the ordinary?

Today you have received the Initial Truth Precepts (Chuzhen jie)—this mind that can recognize its faults shows that your original face is still there. Why not turn your everyday false heart into a true heart, false intent into true intent, false mask into true face, lay bare your sincere heart, and repent in earnest? From the day you take these precepts onward, you are called disciples under the Initial Truth Precepts.

These Initial Truth Precepts are the four great deportments of practice (standards for walking, standing, sitting, and lying down), used to correct the outward bearing of the body; they do not concern the Dharma Body (the true body you inherently possess), nor do they directly engage Samadhi or Wisdom. It is only because your temperaments are too restless to settle that the Ten Precepts are applied to rein in this physical form. If you can uphold the precepts accordingly, this body can grow quiet and enter Samadhi (ding); from there you advance to the Central Ultimate Precepts.

Assembly: the Central Ultimate Precepts are the work of Samadhi; they differ from the Initial Truth Precepts. The Initial Truth emphasis falls on the character for “precept” (jie); the Central Ultimate on “samadhi” (ding); the Celestial Immortal Precepts on “wisdom” (hui). In the beginning the Heavenly Lord (the supreme honored deity of Daoism), taking pity on living beings, established these Precepts, Samadhi, and Wisdom as the training to subdue body, mind, and intent—this is the wondrous treasure of the Golden Elixir that lifts one out of the world. Apart from this precepts–samadhi–wisdom, there is no other gate. However many methods there may appear to be on the outside—even eighty-four thousand—they cannot escape these two words, “samadhi” and “wisdom.”

No matter how you consume divine elixirs, refine the golden-liquid returning elixir, ascend in broad daylight, or have your whole household lifted heavenward in bodily flight—or deploy every sort of supernatural transformation—apart from precepts, concentration, and wisdom, there is no other gate. Outwardly there may be eighty-four thousand methods, yet none escapes the two words “concentration” and “wisdom.” Even if you add to those immortal arts the many techniques of corpse liberation when form is exhausted and emptiness remains, standing transformation, sitting death, rebirth through transmigration, seizing a body or borrowing another’s form—still the light of concentration and wisdom stands unmoved. It illumines those powers as a bright mirror set in a courtyard: whatever goes out or comes in, each leaves its trace, yet all remain within concentration and wisdom and cannot step outside them.

Friends: the “central” in “central pole” (zhongji) is the Celestial Pivot (Tianshu) over which Doumu (Mother of the Dipper) presides—that unmoving hub; “pole” (ji) is the pivot whereby the Southern Pole registers birth and the Northern Pole registers death. The great hinge of life and death lies entirely in the Dipper’s handle turning in secret at this numinous hub-pole. The two characters “central pole” hold sway over heaven and earth and grasp the handle of birth and death. This “center” is neither inside nor outside, neither left nor right, neither before nor after; it is unbiased, without excess or deficiency. It is the center of “hold fast to the center” and “bring harmony to fulfillment,” the center of Laozi’s “much speech leads to exhaustion; better to keep to the center,” the center by which the noble person walks the middle way—the center that stands upright without leaning.