《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 12

Extra care is required at this stage. When the fire phase is reduced (tuihuo), a quiet clarity like the ebbing of water appears—this is the time for bathing (muyu: pausing the advance of fire at the proper juncture), and also for nourishing the yellow sprout (huangya), the first tender growth of the inner elixir. In this method, the day the elixir coagulates is taken as the Winter Solstice of the eleventh month; counting ninety days from there marks one bathing interval, corresponding to the solar term of the second month. By the month: from the elixir day as the first of the month, bathe once on the eighth and once on the twenty-third; when the next month begins, treat its first day again as the first of the twelfth month. By the day: from the hour when the embryo forms, the fourth double-hour is mao and the tenth is you; the months are handled with the same flexible reckoning for warming, nurturing, and bathing. When the nine turns of fire are sufficient, the seasonal cycle complete, and the infant (the yang spirit refined within) is about to stir, you must still ask yourself: Is the work of return fully pure? Has all post-heaven ordinary substance been transformed and exhausted? If so, movement and stillness are one; whether you remain in the world or leave it for ascent is entirely up to you—for at that point the body is the world and the earth is heaven; you are truly united with the Dao, and distinctions of entering or leaving, rising or falling, high or low, near or far, ordinary or sage no longer apply. If you have only followed the qi through the stages of penetration, transformation, coagulation, and completion—gaining first little, then much—yet have not been able to melt this bodily form, you must beforehand release a sphere of golden light and suspend it in the void above the crown; this is called the intention pearl (yizhu), corresponding to the heavenly marker star (zhenxing, Saturn).

Master Taixu said: “Zhen” (the stabilizing star) is what governs the Tiangan (the gang stars ruled by the Northern Dipper). It forms when the true Yuan Qi (innate vital energy) of Kun Earth rises and condenses. Where its light shines, life arises; where its light pours in, transformation occurs—humans and all things come into being through it. It sits at the center of heaven—that is, the middle star among the five (Zhen Star, Saturn), higher than the sun, moon, and all other stars.

My teacher Master Niwan (Mud Pill) said: In a human being, it corresponds to the covering bone at the fontanel. This bone is where vital Qi gathers in the body; it only takes shape after birth when one touches the ground. Immortal Lü (Lü Dongbin) called it the “human Zhen.” The radiance it gives forth—the Golden Gate (Jinque) of the celestial realm calls it the “Pearl of Intention (Yizhu),” and the Supreme One uses it to guard the Holy Infant (the yang-shen infant formed in internal alchemy). Those who study the Way must not fail to understand this.

If one obtains the inner medicine too soon—while the Holy Infant is already formed but not yet strong—one may temporarily take this pearl and suspend it in the void above the crown, to make up for work in daily return to the source that is not yet pure and for acquired consciousness (shishen) not yet dissolved, and to ward off enticement and harassment so one is not devoured by demons. This meaning is already explained in detail in what Zhengyang (Zhong Liquan) called the “final move.” Zhengyang said: To refine until the infant is formed—how could that be easy? Yet as long as a fraction of yin breath remains undispelled, bodily consciousness will surely lure outer demons, and they will collude to harass you. The remedy is only to conceal the body of the Dao. If disturbance is slight at first and heavy later, one has no choice but to merge into the Pearl of Intention, letting it melt and transform on its own, so inner and outer obstacles dissolve like ice. In time, this body will equal the ancient buddhas.

Master Taixu also said: The Pearl of Intention is precious to this degree. Yet through the generations, when patriarchs transmitted the scriptures, few explained it fully. For this method was originally meant to save lower-grade practitioners (xiashi) and to supplement those whose root of nature (xing) was not yet thorough. If the light of nature is already fixed, at the final stage one need not use this method again.

Following this step, one penetrates one’s own body with it, and the pearl promptly envelops the whole person. Inner and outer merge in harmony; the acquired, ordinary substance is dissolved and naturally washed clean. The student need only guard a state that is at once empty and still, still and empty again, and rely on that to transform. Then seeing and hearing entirely fade away, until in stillness one no longer even notices “stillness”—and the nature of true constancy is attained. This is the same as when the gongfu of return and reversal (huifan—from the acquired back to the innate) is fully mature.

People’s endowments differ and their points of entry vary: some practice at ease (anxing), others only once they see the benefit (lixing); when the work is complete, all converge on one path. The creator of things (the one who nurtures the ten thousand things) shows no favoritism here. Therefore verification depends on one’s own careful scrutiny; only then can one achieve liuxing zhushi (retaining the form and dwelling long in the world). To exhaust one’s innate nature is precisely to complete one’s allotted life (ming) and fulfill one’s aspiration.

Min Xiaogen (Min Yide, a Longmen school Daoist of the Qing dynasty and compiler of this book) said: We cultivate the Dao—through a lifetime of diligence, solely to verify ascent and elevation; the slightest confusion loses all prior achievement. This chapter cuts away oral transmission yet elaborates on worldly circulated versions—what is the point? Therefore I removed what it described, supplemented in detail what the lineage transmitted, and used the master’s instructions as annotations for corroboration, to show that immortal sages truly had transmission; it is not rootless or groundless.

Nine years facing the wall, cutting off ties to the dusty world—only then does one match the original wish of immortals and sages.

To fulfill one’s original vow, nothing matters more than the practice of mianbi (facing the wall)—undertaken when merit and conduct are already complete yet the physical body has not yet dissolved. Mudan Shi (the Daoist elder styled “Mudan”) said: this is the separately transmitted method of the Western sage, opened by Bhagavat (an honorific rendering of the Buddha’s name) and taken up by Bodhidharma (the first patriarch of Chan). When he appeared in the eastern lands, there was the nine years of facing the wall. For a thousand years afterward, few who carried the teaching in East and West truly grasped its aim; most treated it only as work on xing (completing inner nature) and ming (preserving life). They did not know that when the First Patriarch came, his xing, ming, and cultivation were already utterly complete—hence he could cross the river on a reed, which is clear proof. He still faced the wall for nine years in order to show the supreme person of Zhèn-dàn (the ancient name for China) a method: to practice together “body as this world, this world as this mind,” one must take mianbi as the gate; only then does the vow to govern the human realm begin to reach completion. The method is set out in Patriarch Lü’s (Lü Dongbin’s) Three-Nun Medical-World Merit Secret (a regimen applying the principles of the three sages—Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist—to heal the world); it must be applied before the physical body is shed, hence the instruction to “take this life’s year, month, day, and hour.” Our lineage is Quanzhen (Complete Perfection); the final great work of Quanzhen is precisely this step. The Dao advances through cultivation, and merit ripens through the fullness of De (virtue and power)—hence the accumulation of three thousand meritorious acts and eight hundred conduct-perfections. But as ordinary people, from where are merit and conduct to be gathered and rounded? Only this separate transmission: without expending the slightest effort or spending a single coin, aligning the heart with creation itself and harmonizing through one’s own person—provided sincerity is constant and never broken, no action fails to respond and no merit stays incomplete. The oral formula is utmost in simplicity: only make the heart as clear as Heaven and the body as still as Earth. Thus the heart is Heaven, the body is Earth, and Shen (spirit) is the human being. Practice in this way—why seek remedy outside oneself? These are celestial secrets; ancient sages never assembled and disclosed them—it was Mudan Shi who disclosed them. I received the teaching and wrote it down, and so still name it Revealing Celestial Secrets.

Min Xiaoliang (Min Yide) wrote: The lineage of “healing the world” (yishi—a method aimed at rectifying the age and delivering sentient beings) was originally a secret transmission passed from pillow to pillow within the Discipline lineage (lüzong—the Daoist school that emphasizes precepts). It was always conveyed only by oral instruction; this book at first did not put it in writing, seemingly out of caution. Yet since the table of contents has already listed it in detail, its general outline ought to be sketched briefly. If you do not trust this teaching, please read the Biyuan Tanshi Jing (Scripture of the Jade Garden Altar—the classic transmitted at the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) precept altar). Having received my master’s instruction, I have added this account with care. On the seventh day of the seventh month in the guisi year of the Daoguang reign (1833), the later student Min Yide recorded this respectfully.

Sequence of Stages in Superior-Grade Elixir Methods (the ordered steps of superior-grade Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation): originally set forth by the Daoist Li Deqia of Hengyang, continued and compiled by Jingai Shanren Min Yide, with textual collation by his nephew and disciple Min Yanglin, who had received his teaching.

Refining the Self and Maintaining Sincerity (lianji cuncheng): Cultivation begins with oneself: refine habitual patterns and wandering thoughts, and at all times nurture a heart of sincerity that does not deceive—this is the foundation of the elixir method.

I have observed life in the red dust of the world—that busy, turbulent secular existence—and seen how most people are endlessly occupied, drowning in profit and desire: either dragged down by fame and career, or wasting their years without knowing how to return to their original mind-nature. Now and then someone is born with wisdom and seeks the Great Dao, yet by ill fate falls under mediocre teachers, wanders onto crooked paths, and never awakens in a lifetime. The highest Dao has long failed to shine clearly in the world.

Through karmic ties from past lives I was fortunate to meet a true master and could study the Stages of Practice in the Superior Grade Elixir Method. I now have verified results and dare not keep them private; I must clear away obstacles and open the gate, pointing straight at the level road so others can follow it step by step.

Whoever truly loves this path, with a sincere and steadfast heart and without doubting, should at once lighten attachments, speak less, think less, eat plainly, guard against cold and heat, and balance work and rest, so that the mind stays clear—only then can one hope to reach the rank of immortals.

Therefore one must first preserve sincerity to lianji (refine the self—the preliminary inner-alchemy work of cultivating mind-nature), burn away acquired habits from the postnatal condition, and reveal only the authentic root of the prenatal body. This is what Confucius meant by “subdue the self and return to ritual propriety.”

If a student of the Dao can truly refine away the ordinary mind and keep only true nature, then whether walking, standing, sitting, lying, responding to affairs, or acting in the world, they must constantly sweep away the usual seven emotions and six desires and every kind of delusion; in moments when nothing is seen or heard, silently examine and gather the heart, guard against thoughts as they rise and fall, and gradually reach a state of “not knowing, not aware,” tasting its meaning from within. Then vain fantasies cannot arise. This is the du (vigilant integrity) work at the beginning—holding the heart carefully even when no one is watching.

When worldly entanglements suddenly cease and the spirit grows calm, one gathers body and mind and retreats into a hidden place—returning to the zhonggong zuxiao (Central Palace Ancestral Orifice, the pivotal seat of centered mind-nature and prenatal spiritual alertness in Neidan). From then on one no longer runs outward, but concentrates spirit and settles intent, nurturing one’s original speck of numinous light: responding when response is needed, still when stillness is needed, like the Tai Xu (great void) that holds all things without obstruction—only then can one enter the inexhaustible sacred realm.

This stage of work may take one or two years, or three or four; the longer the accumulation, the better. After this tempering, one may ru yuan (enter the enclosure—seclude in a quiet chamber) and practice the next stage of work.

Min Yanglin said: What is meant by “refining the self and preserving sincerity” is, when traced to its source, the same line of heart-method as Confucius’s “restraining the self and returning to ritual.” The original passage here was vague and did not show the actual practice instructions; it also said this differed from Confucius’s meaning of restraining the self and returning to ritual, which must be a textual error. Following my teacher’s instruction, I have revised it to be more concrete. This section of practice is specifically for nourishing and opening the Mysterious Pass (the key aperture in internal alchemy). Students differ in quick or slow aptitude, so there is the earnest teaching that “one or two years, or three or four— the longer the accumulation, the better.” The eleven sections below all follow what my late master compiled, with corrections verified.

Laying the Foundation and Cultivating the Inner Medicine (establishing the root and nurturing the inner elixir)

Only after the student has completed the prior work should they choose a quiet place and set up a round chamber (a circular sealed room for silent cultivation), far from worldly atmosphere. Enshrine the Patriarch Donghua (Wang Xuanfu), Patriarch Zhenyang (Zhongli Quan), Patriarch Chunyang (Lü Dongbin), Patriarch Haichan (Liu Haichan), Patriarch Chongyang (Wang Chongyang), Patriarch Ziyang Zhang (Zhang Boduan), Patriarch Xinglin Shi (Shi Tai), Patriarch Daoguang Xue (Xue Daoguang), Patriarch Niwang Chen (Chen Nan), Patriarch Yuchan Bai (Bai Yuchuan), and the patriarchs of the northern line, together with the transmitting master of this lineage’s scriptures, with ever-burning lamps and incense offerings. Day by day gradually gather body and mind, collect Shen and Qi (spirit and vital energy in inner cultivation), and bring them together into the central ancestral aperture of the middle palace (the ancestral opening at the body’s center), holding to the formula of “embracing the original and guarding the One” (holding fast to the primordial unity without division).

Min Xiaokan said: In upper-grade elixir method, one’s own body is the altar, furnace, cauldron, and hearth. Speaking now of entering the round chamber and enshrining the ancestral line still addresses students of middle and lower aptitude, so that from the patriarchs’ presence “majestic as if present”— a still realm without form or sound— they may cultivate all the way to where even “nothing” is gone. If slackness arises midway, these images serve as a visible warning so the mind does not abandon the practice; sincere reverence is kept constant. Those of highest wisdom, with one movement, align with Heaven and ceaselessly strengthen themselves. This is what is meant by “the Lord is upon you— how could there be a divided heart?”

Human innate nature (yuanxing)—the nature one originally possesses—is the Golden Elixir, is the great Dao, is the True Person without rank (wuzhen ren), the true self that holds no official title. Ordinary people do not understand what cultivating the Golden Elixir actually cultivates, so in the end they never succeed. How many people of real aspiration have been wasted for lack of guidance? If one knows that in the elixir path Yuanshen (original spirit) is one’s own yuanxing, something one already has, and further borrows the pre-heaven primordial Qi (xian tian yi qi) within the body to refine and transform it into a pure Yang body (chunyang zhi ti), how could cultivation fail? Patriarch Wang said: “The original yuanxing is called the Golden Elixir; with the four falsities (the illusory body composed of earth, water, fire, and wind) as the furnace, refine it into one mass.” That is exactly the meaning. The ancestral aperture of the central palace (zhong gong zu qiao) is what the Supreme Venerable (Taishang) called the Mysterious Female Gate (xuanpin zhi men), the gate through which the ten thousand things arise. The whole work of cultivating the Golden Elixir lies in this aperture. What is meant by “guard the One and all affairs are complete” (shou yi er wan shi bi) refers precisely to this place.

According to Min Xiaogen, on careful personal verification, the middle palace ancestral aperture (the single aperture at the center of the human body spoken of in internal alchemy—not a bodily organ with visible form) is indeed the Gate of the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin), the portal through which all things arise in Daoist teaching. But this “center” must be recognized for what it truly is: it must not be taken for something with shape or a fixed location. It is the center that is neither biased nor leaning, neither excessive nor deficient. Therefore it has no direction and no inside or outside.

It is called the pearl, the grain of millet, also Mani (the wish-fulfilling jewel), Sheli (here meaning refined essence), the Golden Elixir, and Taiji (Supreme Ultimate)—these many provisional names all refer to what is taken in, planted, refined, perfected, released, and transformed within this “center.”

To open and enter this middle palace and ancestral aperture, the key lies solely in the work of overcoming the private self until it is thoroughly mature, so that it happens naturally—until emptiness reaches its utmost and stillness is solid and real. Only then has one truly entered within. Lose emptiness and stillness for a moment, and one falls outside the aperture. Only by following what should move when it should move and what should be still when it should be still, without mixing in one’s own thoughts, does one align with the Dao everywhere.

This aperture the Daoists call Xuanpin. Push to its crux, and it is also what Confucians call the line between human and beast, and Buddhists the line between demon and Buddha—all hanging on the subtlest single thought.

Yet this mysterious aperture has yang on the left and yin on the right, hence the name Xuanpin (“mysterious female”); its distinction from human versus beast and demon versus Buddha is still not quite the same. Why? Because the yang here is true yang and the yin is true yin—both belong to the pre-heaven (xiantian) realm—so together they may be called the mysterious aperture.

Nining (Mud Pill; Patriarch Chen Nan of the Southern Lineage) said: When the mechanism moves, one enters the “mysterious”; when it is still, one enters the “female”—that is the natural supreme Dao. Yet the Essay on Distinguishing Doubts in Cultivating Immortality also says, “Where a thought stirs, that is Xuanpin.” How are we to understand this? That is speaking from stillness while observing the arising of thoughts—the Confucian and Buddhist divide between human and beast, demon and Buddha. As for the preface to the Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir, it says, “It is within your own body; do not seek elsewhere”; hence the main text says, “This aperture is no ordinary aperture; Heaven and Earth together compose it.”

Nining also said: This is only a provisional expedient method—but without seeking from here, there is absolutely no way to enter. Why? This aperture is so large it has no outer bound, so small it has no inner limit; thus a single grain of millet can hold the great thousand worlds and also contain the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity).

Among the pointers of various masters, Purple Yang (Zhang Boduan) spoke most closely to the point. The expedient method that my ancestor Nining compassionately revealed carries a profound intent!

The Three Powers all lie within the mysterious aperture—could my body be outside the mysterious aperture? Since the body is within the aperture, could the ancestral aperture in the body lie outside the mysterious aperture? Therefore one should trust entering straight through the ancestral aperture, then bear it by cutting off thoughts and forgetting attachments—and truly one is at ease everywhere. I dare not hoard this meaning privately; I respectfully tell fellow practitioners, hoping only that you will quiet the mind and verify it for yourselves.

Within the human body, below the heart and above the kidneys, at the center roughly one cun and two fen, lies the aperture where the congenital primordial ancestral Qi (the innate vital energy one is born with) resides. Those who study the Way must first recognize this path before they can cultivate and enter the Great Dao; they must also gather and elevate each aspect of the body so that the Yuanshen (original spirit) has a proper place to dwell. The ancients said: “There is a precious pearl, sealed within the mountain of form.” Yet people do not know that this pearl lies within the six roots (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) and constantly radiates great light. Most fail to awaken to this, and so waste a lifetime and die in vain. Here the path is made clear so it may be seen. Though the body has six roots, all issue from a single root. What matters is that the Three Treasures (Jing, Qi, and Shen) merge into one, the Four Images (the four inner alchemical correspondences of body and mind) harmonize and unite, and return to emptiness; so that body, mind, and intent do not move rashly, and the acquired spirit is gathered back to the central palace (the central position in the body); constantly aware and always guarding the regulated center (the upright, unbiased middle), practicing the work of embracing the One and holding to unity. When this becomes fully mature over time, Jing, Qi, and Shen are complete, the Xuanpin (the gateway of yin-yang generation and inner-alchemy foundation) is firmly rooted, can produce true Qi, and transform true lead (the inner-alchemy medicine formed from true Qi); then one may study the subsequent formulas, and the practice will respond accordingly. This is the profound mechanism for verifying attainment as a celestial immortal. Those who obtain it enter the sage’s realm at once; without great wisdom, who can grasp its depth?

Min Xiaogen said: Although what this section describes is a provisional expedient method, it must still be used as the mysterious key.

Min Xiaogen says: What this section teaches, though it belongs to provisional methods (expedient ways to begin, not the ultimate truth), if one does not rely on them in practice, there is no path for cultivation. The Mysterious Pass (Xuan Guan)—where Yin and Yang meet and vital impulse first stirs in internal alchemy—is exceedingly deep, and hard to open. The way to open it lies not in deliberate contrivance but in the four words “empty, still, unmoving.” What is called the gateway is precisely this root; what is called practice is merging into one, harmonizing and blending, and the work of return, dispatch, gathering, and absorbing. When one returns to the original palace and has penetrated the mysterious aperture (the opening where the Mysterious Pass resides), that is only the first step of the provisional method. Constant awakened awareness (shijue juezhao) is the essential of the second step; holding unwaveringly to the center moment by moment is the practice of the third step. Students who cultivate accordingly hold to embracing the origin and guarding the one. What is the origin? It is the primordial ancestor Qi (yuan shi zu qi), the pre-heaven source breath. What is the one? It is the original inherent nature (benlai yuan xing), one’s innate original spirit nature. When practice matures over time, it naturally becomes pure and ripe; only after that ripeness are the Three Treasures (Jing, Qi, Shen) fully complete. The text below does not yet say the foundation is established, because this is still only the initial base where the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin)—the gate of Yin-Yang generation—first takes form; post-heaven Qi has not yet turned into pre-heaven Qi, and original life (yuan ming) is not yet restored. When Qi returns and is transformed into primordial Qi, true lead (zhen qian)—authentic pre-heaven yang Qi—then arrives. When true lead is about to come, one can take up the next set of oral instructions. Students must grasp this clearly: it all happens in the brief instant of the living zi (huo zi)—the moment yang Qi first rises, not the clock hour of midnight—when suddenly lead arrives and mercury responds (yang arrives and yin essence answers), and condensation follows; that depends entirely on the work of refining the self and building the foundation (lian ji zhu ji) already being sufficient. Master Taixu said: “When one yang is generated, yin responds accordingly; by principle, one need not seek—it comes of itself.” Master Niwang said: “Do not fear that true yin will not come to meet you; fear only that the yang you generate may not be true.” From this the student may gain insight.

Once the earlier work has become pure and mature, one then turns to the practice of “storing the spirit and entering the qi cavity”: draw the eyes, ears, and nose inward—the eyes not looking outward, the ears not listening outward, the nose not smelling outward—so that the Yuanshen (the inborn divine spirit native to human beings) all settles back into the qi cavity (the place Neidan masters treat as the seat of stored qi, usually the lower dantian region). Breath then evens out on its own, fine and continuous, as if there yet as if not. That is the true secret for nurturing the medicine (cultivating the inner alchemical substance).

Chen Xubai said: “Drop the eyelids, seal the mouth, check desire, even the breath, leave bodily ties behind, drop clever scheming, and you come close to zuowang (sitting in forgetfulness of self and outer things). I tell you to stay all day as quiet as a fool—only then can you refine the wish-fulfilling pearl (a figure for the completed inner elixir).” Bai Yuxian said: “I once met a bright master who gave me the true formula: simply store the spirit in the qi cavity.” All of this is the oral teaching for building the foundation (laying the groundwork for Neidan).

Long ago Patriarch Liu of Ming’an said: “When you start, set the elixir foundation; do not push the zi and wu (hours). Only when in stillness a first stir appears is it the hour when gui gives birth.” Such lines were for those just entering seclusion (first entering the quiet room for closed practice). “Setting the elixir foundation” means only the phase of nurturing the medicine—not gathering the great medicine.

“Do not push the zi and wu” warns lest people take it for the body’s zi–wu microcosmic circuit, or think they must work only at midnight and noon; hence “do not,” to mark the order of practice. “Hour” here is the hour of the Ru Yao Jing: “In the twelve double-hours, wherever mind-intention reaches, you may begin”—why fix on zi and wu alone?

“In stillness a first stir” is yin at its limit and yang arising, stillness and emptiness pushed to the utmost; that stir is the hour when gui gives birth (when primordial yang has just moved). The patriarch cleared the fog: the moment yang appears, take it at once; do not wait until gui water is full and the window turns risky, wasting spirit for nothing.

If you gather only after gui is full, you get yang qi that follows the ordinary seasonal rise—not the great medicine. Only gathering at that first stir in stillness yields the primordial yang before the ten thousand things are formed—the subtle root that begets heaven, earth, humankind, and the myriad beings—namely the primordial one qi (xiantian yi qi).

Min Xiaogen said: Upon careful investigation, the “yang arising” (yang sheng) at the very beginning of practice, though it occurs naturally, is still only a provisional expedient method. What is generated and gathered at this stage is merely the yang qi of the whole body; though it is called xiantian (prior heaven), it in fact still belongs to houtian (posterior heaven). Even the yang arising spoken of in Ruyaojing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine, a classic Neidan text on gathering medicine and refining the elixir) is no longer counted as an expedient method; yet since it says “when intention arrives,” it still arises from intentional thought—and what is aroused in this way is still houtian within xiantian, hence it is called “not the great medicine.” This distinction is extremely precise.

Niwan (the Mud-pill Immortal) said: “Within the twelve double-hours, when vital impulse suddenly bursts forth, that is xiantian zhi qi (prior-heaven vital energy)—it must not be slighted. If a person can gather it in time, it is a supreme treasure. Ancient sages who obtained it, when form and spirit were not yet fully replete, used it to repair and consolidate yin'e (the protective boundary of the elixir foundation), or to cultivate the spirit chamber and yellow chamber (the locus where the elixir embryo is conceived and nourished), and so on.” This teaching has been reported in detail many times by Yang Lin among his disciples; fellow practitioners may all investigate it.

As for true “zi yang sheng” (yang arising at the zi hour) and thereby obtaining the great medicine, these too cannot be taken as fixed dogma. Taixu said: “When the season and moment correspond and mutually resonate, and the self is already utterly empty while stillness is deep—what is obtained cannot be measured, and what is generated cannot be fathomed. If one has not yet reached emptiness and goes to seek stillness, or has only become empty but has not yet settled in deep stillness, there is absolutely no principle by which anything can be obtained.”

Yide therefore often told people that the method of “guan fu” (observing return to the root) never goes beyond the two lines of practice: “attain utmost emptiness, guard deep stillness.” How many truly know these instructions? Yide is now old; once he returns to emptiness, if the instructions cannot be passed on, it will be like a hairless lion roaring without sound—regret is unavoidable. Therefore the “time” (shi) discussed in this section is clarified in detail and annotated here; may those who see it cherish and embody it.

Scripture on the elixir says: “When Heaven obtains this ‘One,’ it becomes clear and bright; when Earth obtains it, it becomes tranquil and secure; when a human being obtains it, he can attain long life.” The pre-heaven primordial Qi spoken of here—the lump of original vitality one already possessed before birth—comes from emptiness, yet it is not that there is nothing at all in empty void. The meaning is: stillness is guarded to the utmost, entering directly into empty void. One abides in a dim, obscure state beyond clear perception; great chaos is thoroughly settled, and spirit and clarity arrive on their own, while that single point of luminous awareness stays ever clear. Only then is it true pre-heaven: it seems empty, yet in fact it is not empty.

Min Xiaoge (Min Yide, a Qing-dynasty scholar of the Dao) said: the pre-heaven spoken of here is not only the pre-heaven within the body, but the ancestral Qi of Taiji (the primordial Qi from which Taiji itself issues)—not the Qi transformed by the yin-yang pairing of Heaven and Earth, with its mix of empty and full. That is why it can be empty yet not empty. In his reading, “this pre-heaven” refers to the Qi of Taiji, while “yet not wholly absent in empty void” touches the circulating Qi of the three powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity). The practice now taught is to carry stillness to the point of emptiness; the intent runs very deep: emptiness is the root substance, stillness is the method; without stillness one cannot obtain it, and if one does not still within emptiness, what one obtains is incomplete. He feared students would think this contradicted the practice notes given earlier, and therefore explained it with special care.

The ancestral Qi of Taiji, once obtained, can serve as the “mother” and enable formation of the embryo; the circulating Qi of Taiji, once obtained, can only serve as “nourishment” for nurturing. Both belong to the great medicine, yet they differ. Taiji arises from the pairing of Heaven and Earth, while this ancestral Qi is again the source from which Taiji itself springs; obtaining it allows formation of the embryo, hence it is called the mother. Circulating Qi is the Qi emitted within Taiji by the three powers: relative to the creation of Heaven and Earth it counts as pre-heaven, but relative to cultivation it is already post-heaven. Its purity and turbidity are uneven; it can only be gathered for cultivation and nurturing, hence it is said to serve as milk and feeding. Those of middling or lower capacity who rely on this alone to form an embryo produce only a phantom image, not the true holy infant (the genuine immortal embryo); they must still follow the later formulas in practice. The purpose of distinguishing this clearly is to show that people’s innate capacity differs, and the elixir they achieve differs as well.

Ren is yang water, meaning the formless clear qi; Gui is yin water, meaning the material form that congeals when the medicine has aged past its time. Alchemists favor yang and shun yin; Gui water is what the elixir path rejects. When true yang first arises there is only qi and no material form—it is purely yang qi; delay even slightly and material form appears. Once form exists, it becomes Gui water, heavy and turbid, sinking down, unable to reverse and rise. Hence Patriarch Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) has the line: “When lead meets Gui’s birth, gather at once; when metal meets distant view, it must not be tasted.” Lead means true yang qi; when Gui water is about to form from it, one must harvest immediately; metal means the medicine—past its season and grown old, it must not be used. Saying “Gui’s birth” means fearing that it will arise, not welcoming it; only when one does not mistake Gui’s birth for yang’s birth is one correct. Once yang qi has arisen, one immediately uses true intent (single-pointed mind) to gather it into the central palace (the place in the body where yin and yang meet), to unite with the true yin in Li (the Fire trigram, the heart)—this is the first step of dragon-tiger copulation (union of yin and yang qi).

Min Xiaogen (Min Yide) said: The elixir path favors yang and shuns yin; the above is indeed an unalterable verdict. If one seeks only health preservation, even if past time one need not discard it, but there is another method: after qi penetrates to the crown, let it spread through the whole body, forget the body to nourish qi; when coolness reaches the heart, it turns into true yin, opening the four limbs, returning through the hundred channels, moistening sinews and joints—this too is a wonderful secret for replenishing the physical body (se), only one must strictly avoid letting it remain in the palace and turn into liquid. Taixu Weng (the senior cited in the text) spoke thus for elderly practitioners; it resembles what Perfected Shi Xinglin (Shi Tai) called the return-and-restore method; the young and vigorous must never settle for this practice.

The alchemical classics say: “The dragon emerges from fire”—meaning the dragon is born in Li (Fire in the Bagua); and again: “The tiger is born toward water”—meaning the tiger is born in Kan (Water in the Bagua). The method of making the elixir is: at first use the dragon to draw the tiger, then let the tiger respond to and harmonize with the dragon. When you reach xu ji jing du (the mind utterly empty and utterly still), simply sink the Yuanshen (innate primordial spirit) into the Qixue (the place where Qi gathers), and let it breathe in and out on its own—without the slightest artificial contrivance, and without a subjective mind that calculates or seeks results. You must be at ease and unforced, and must not cling; once you cling, discord arises instead. Only then does this fit the working of Shen (spirit). Over time, breathing need no longer be regulated; naturally it becomes full, smooth, and flowing. If you must rise and act, first sit with eyes closed in stillness, let it return to the original cavity, and wait until stillness is extreme—only then get up. Remember this well. If you have unavoidably already risen, after the matter is done resume the prior practice; that too is a remedial way to adjust.

Min Xiaogen said: On careful reading, these opening lines refer to the Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir. Wait until stillness is extreme before rising—remember this well. If you have unavoidably risen, after the matter is done resume the prior practice; that too is a turning, remedial method.

Min Xiaogen says: The passage beginning with “at the start” corresponds to “true earth captures true lead” in the Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir—using true earth to hold true lead in place. The passage beginning with “next” corresponds to “true lead governs true mercury.” The passage beginning with “simply take” corresponds to “lead and mercury return to true earth.” The passage beginning with “let it” corresponds to “body and mind are still and do not move.” The essential aim of the practice of refining the elixir is complete by this point. If students still do not understand dragon and tiger, they need a clear teacher’s guidance to know that these are metaphors for heart-mind and body before cultivation has begun. The crux of this section of oral instructions lies in the two uses of ting (“heeding”): first, “you must not attach to it,” and second, “once you have intention,” a warning pushed to the utmost. It also says “you must,” “you must not,” “on the contrary you will produce,” and “only then does it accord”—how earnestly it admonishes. Still fearing that people will rush for results, it adds phrases like “over time.” When we read, our aim is to understand clearly; we cannot skim past it lightly. Most learners in the world fall into this fault, so a few extra words of advice: where there is fault, reform it; where there is none, strive all the more. The ancients said: reading requires discernment—nothing more than careful thought and personal realization.

Before the winter solstice, one must apply effort in advance for forty-nine days, so that one yang returns while still under five yin; use this single breath of primordial Qi (xian tian yuan qi) to transform the post-heaven spirit, thereby forming the yang spirit. This is a rare method in the world—how could its subtlety be easily exhausted in words? Only when laying the foundation (zhu ji) one cultivates the “medicinal ingredients” separately from the work of gathering the great medicine can one be called someone who truly penetrates this Way—not mixing the two as one affair.

Min Xiaogen says: What is meant here by "beginning work early" is to practice keji—restraining selfish desires and purifying the mind. To cultivate the supreme Great Dao, one must first open the Mystical Opening (the single Mysterious Pass of internal alchemy, xuanguan yiqiao); if this opening is not opened, it is hard for gongfu to truly enter. It cannot be opened by moving qi through circulation and transport; one must rely on keji. When the self is purified, thoughts naturally cease to be scattered, and the will can become pure and unified; when both will and thought are restrained to singleness, the Mystical Opening will naturally open wide. My teacher Master Taixu has already explained this in detail. I only fear that some may harbor the mind of expecting results on a fixed schedule, and so was compelled to mention "forty-nine days." Students should ask themselves: if the heart is not yet pure, why not begin cultivation from the summer solstice? Why not even from before the winter solstice of the previous year? This is what the first chapter means by "the longer the accumulation, the better"—it is not a fixed date or fixed pace.

There is also a great point of doubt that few alchemical texts ancient or modern have addressed, and this book does not address it either—I do not know how many aspirants it has misled. Now that I know, I dare not leave it unclarified. Works such as Patriarch Bai Ziqing's (Bai Yuchan) Lectures on Cultivating Immortality and Dispelling Doubts are recited in nearly every household among my disciples, yet when they read, most let it slip past in a glance. What is the doubt? It is the single character "cai" (to gather/take). Those unwilling to verify it in their own body take it like viewing flowers from horseback—they never even feel the word is doubtful, so why bother to clarify? Those who wish to verify it, however, take "gathering" as something to actively do, blindly seeking and wandering everywhere, thus entering side paths and casting this treatise behind them—truly lamentable.

Does the Lecture not say: "Take the body as lead (the yin substance within the body), the heart as mercury (spiritual clarity within the heart), fixity as water, and wisdom as fire"? It also says: "Take essence, spirit, soul, and will as medicinal materials; walking, standing, sitting, and lying as the firing schedule (the rhythm of refinement); purity, stillness, and naturalness as the method of application." Speaking of the refining method, it says: "Take the body as altar, furnace, and cauldron; the heart as the chamber of spirit; sitting upright in fixity (jingzuo xiding) as gathering; vigilant care and attention as tending the fire; rising and stopping as advance and retreat; interruption and inability to maintain singleness as what must be guarded against; application as drawing and adding; steaming and bathing by True Qi (xianzhen primordial qi) as ablution; ceasing thoughts as nurturing the fire; subduing body and mind as field battle; concentrating spirit and gathering qi as defending the city; forgetting cunning and cutting off deliberation as slaying and giving life; the place where thought stirs as the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin, the pivot of movement and stillness); merging into one mass as union; returning to the root and restoring life as elixir completion; shifting the spirit as changing the cauldron; having a body outside the body as shedding the shell; returning to the origin and restoring the fundamental as the true aim; and shattering the void as ultimate completion."

How clear this is! Gathering lies solely within sitting upright in fixity—it is not some separate active undertaking. If this knot of doubt is not resolved, one's direction will be entirely reversed, a lifetime without achievement, yet blaming it on insufficient merit and giving up—most pitiable. I hope fellow practitioners will first verify that character "pei" (cultivating/nurturing). Though the stages form three vehicles, there is no second formula for the gathering technique.

Kan-Li Copulation (Water and Fire Intercourse)

When a cultivator has achieved visible results in laying the foundation, they must still not relax. They should continue as before to regulate nasal breathing, seal the tongue qi, gather ear resonance, and close the grain path (anus). When the Four Emblems harmonize, they return to emptiness. One must keep body and mind unmoving, draw the post-heaven spirit back to where the True Person’s breath resides (the seat of true breathing), guard it without loss, and let it meet with Qi (pre-heaven vital energy). Then one naturally becomes utterly still and empty. Suddenly one may feel a slight stirring at the sea bottom (the perineum), and light shines through, like a new crescent hanging in the southwest—just as the moon on the third day appears in the geng direction (west). This is the first emergence of metal qi. A point of heat in Kan (Water) rises toward the heart sovereign (the heart, which belongs to Li Fire). With intention, one gently guides it downward along the Yellow Path through Weilu, Jiaji, and Yuzhen, into the Mud Pill and through the Nine Palaces (from the tailbone up the spine to the brain), then down from the upper palate. It is warm like a drop of water, fragrant like ghee, tasting like sweet dew. Send it into emptiness with the gaze; receive it in the mind within non-being, and it returns on its own to the cauldron (the dantian). This is the subtlety of Kan-Li copulation.

Min Xiaogen says: The “return and restoration” method discussed here is essentially the entry-level practice of embryonic breathing (taixi). Earlier masters said that after one reaches the utmost emptiness and steadfast stillness, light may show through the “curtain,” like a crescent moon. Such accounts are established lore, yet not everyone experiences them the same way. Some see something like a grain of rice or a bead, usually in the abdomen—called the Kun position or the Geng direction—which merely indicates that metal qi (jinqi) is just beginning to appear. The phrase “a bit of warm qi rising toward the chest” is likewise not a fixed sign; one need only use intention to guide it smoothly downward. As for the original wording “pass through the tail gate (weilü) along the Yellow Path and over the Jade Pillow (yuzhen),” that is a serious error, surely a textual slip; hence it is corrected to “along the Yellow Path, pass through the tail gate,” with “through the jiaji, penetrate the Jade Pillow, enter the Mud Ball (niwan, upper dantian in the brain)” added.

In the human body there are three passages, called the Black Path, the Red Path, and the Yellow Path. The Yellow Path runs straight upward along the midline in front of the kidneys and behind the navel—that is, along the midline in front of the spine and behind the heart, up to the Mud Ball. The Red Path ascends in reverse from the Crimson Palace (jiangong, heart region), joins the Black Path, attaches to the Yellow Path, rises in due order to the “anchoring” position (crown), then again joins the Black Path, attaches to the Yellow Path, and returns to the Crimson Palace. The Black Path starts from the Sea (lower qi sea, qihai), joins the Red Path, attaches to the Yellow Path and moves in reverse, passes through the tail gate, penetrates the Jade Pillow, then from the anchoring position joins the Red Path, attaches to the Yellow Path, runs along the forehead to the Pool (Huachi, Jade Pool in the mouth), then descends smoothly to the Crimson Palace and returns again to the Sea.

That is how the three routes work. Few people know why they are named as they are; in fact they correspond to the three treasures of body, mind, and intention. Mind belongs to Qian (Heaven); Qian’s proper place is in Li (Fire), whose color is red, hence the Red Path—the Ren vessel (conception vessel) in the body. The Ren vessel tends to flare upward; in practice it must be made to descend. Body belongs to Kun (Earth); Kun’s proper place is in Kan (Water), whose color is black, hence the Black Path—the Du vessel (governing vessel). The Du vessel tends to sink downward; in practice it must be made to rise. This is what is meant by “inverting Yin and Yang”: the Du is yang and the Ren is yin. Calling them Du and Ren takes Qian’s firm strength and Kun’s yielding softness as their meaning. Intention belongs to earth; its color is yellow, hence the Yellow Path.

Such is the old teaching, yet its profound meaning can hardly be fully exhausted. As the scripture calls red and black the human path and yellow the immortal path: the Governing Vessel (Du mai, the yang channel along the back midline) is yang, and the Conception Vessel (Ren mai, the yin channel along the front midline) is yin. They are named “Governing” and “Conception” to echo the vigor of Qian (Heaven) and the yielding of Kun (Earth)—Qian stands for Heaven and governs strength; Kun stands for Earth and governs softness. Intention (yi) belongs to Earth; Earth’s color is yellow, hence the name Yellow Path.

Though the formulation is thus, the hidden sense still resists being spoken to the end. How can one fail to grasp the scripture’s intent—that red and black are the human way and yellow the immortal way?

Yang Lin, a disciple of the lineage, wrote a commentary on the Four Hundred Words on the Golden Elixir (a neidan classic by Zhang Boduan) that explains this with exceptional clarity. The commentary says: Kan is the body and Li is the heart; what underlies Kan and Li is intention (yi). In the innate state (xiantian, the original undivided condition), Kan lies in the west and belongs to Po (the corporeal soul); in the acquired state (houtian, after birth), it shifts to the north, where Po has dispersed and become jing (essence). What now runs through innate and acquired and unites essence with Po into one household is the body. In the innate state, Li lies in the east and belongs to hun (the ethereal soul); in the acquired, it shifts to the south, where hun has manifested and become shen (spirit). What now runs through innate and acquired and unites spirit with hun into one household is the heart. Only Earth at the center gathers the Four Images (sixiang, the emblems of the four directions) and is the root of innate and acquired Kan and Li; it does not change its place because of innate versus acquired—this is intention (yi). With this central Earth to settle the body and gather in the heart, body, heart, and intention are fully returned to one place—without dividing the mind and without ceasing—gradually nourished until a true body is formed, growing until it is full and vast, able to generate the ten thousand things. Is this not the ten thousand things already complete within me, and the three realms (desire, form, and formlessness) gathered into this single person?

So runs the commentary. Used to align and grasp these three paths, the matter becomes as plain as seeing one’s own palm. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) said: “If you wish to cultivate the immortal path, first fulfill the human path; without cultivating the human path, the immortal path is far away.” Master Niwan said: “Neither the immortal path nor the human path lies outside this body.” When people misunderstand and search outside the body, they find no way in. This is because they do not see that red and black are the human condition; only when a person is purified and returns to white can they return to yellow. Master Taixu said: “The sacred work of neidan (internal alchemy) is nothing other than reversion (huanyuan, return to the origin).”

Master Xu said: “The sacred work of the elixir path is nothing beyond return-and-reversion.” The substance obtained appears in red and black—these arise from Li and Kan (Li belongs to heart-fire and is red; Kan belongs to kidney-water and is black). To study return-and-reversion, one must refine through Li and Kan until post-heaven is fully sent back into pre-heaven; then the ordinary person naturally becomes the sage.

A common failing among students in the world is haste: they often leap ahead out of turn and thus invite “yellow turmoil” (a deviation in which true qi mistakenly surges to the crown) and alarm and doubt. I have already explained this at length in my commentary on Transmission of the Immortal’s Heart. Fellow practitioners who consult it will see that I did not invent this view without cause.

This text holds considerable subtle meaning and is indeed a rare work among elixir families. Yet repeated copying introduced wrong characters and dropped lines. Without correction, there would surely be harm such as yellow turmoil—the stakes are not small. Though it has now been emended, the fine meaning is still not fully spelled out; later students will still find it hard to follow in practice, and progress may be blocked—this cannot be ignored.

The word for passing Yujin was also changed from “pass over” to “penetrate.” The Yujin pass (a gate in the governing vessel behind the brain) has a small aperture and firm bone—it is also called the Iron Barrier. While the student’s post-heaven ordinary substance is not yet fully transformed, if one lets qi cross the pass and descend at will, yellow turmoil will result: in mild cases, head distension; in severe cases, injury to the brain—an even fiercer calamity. This must be understood.

The phrase below, “the eyes escort while intention welcomes,” means gathering heart and eyes together back into emptiness. The word “cauldron” in the next section refers to holding the correct position and concentrating life (an ding ben wei, ning ding xing ming)—do not hastily take the head as the Qian cauldron (often mistaken for the upper cauldron at the crown).

This is the entry method for fetal breathing (breathing as subtle as a fetus in the womb)—already not to be taken lightly. Unless one reaches utmost emptiness and solid stillness, fetal breathing cannot be obtained. Patriarch Qiu of Eternal Spring’s small heavenly circuit is exactly what this section describes: nothing but abiding in true constancy without duality, with heart and breath mutually relying—that alone.

Xiao Gen (the style name of Min Yide) also wrote: The three chapters above were revised according to the original text and belong to the orthodox transmission, without error. Below them were nine further chapters, titled “Gathering Medicine and Returning to the Furnace,” “Celestial Cycle of Fire Phases,” “Union of Qian and Kun,” “Ten Months Nurturing the Embryo,” “Transferring Spirit and Changing the Cauldron,” “Three Years of Suckling and Nurturing,” “Refining Spirit and Returning to Emptiness,” and “Awaiting Imperial Summons and Ascending.” Most of these expound in fragmented, indirect ways and belong to the middle and lower grades of practice. They also discuss weights and measures, hexagram lines, and mix in methods such as counting breaths and swallowing saliva—all of which are not upper-grade work and do not match the aim of this book. They were inserted by people who did not understand the path.

I read them again and again until my mind grew confused; for three days and nights I could hardly sleep or eat. On the morning of the fourteenth day of the tenth month, while sitting in quiet meditation my heart stirred and I took up the brush and wrote straight through, not knowing whence the opening came. I rewrote the nine chapters under the same titles: I removed “Three Years of Suckling and Nurturing” and replaced it with “Nurturing Wisdom in the Mud Palace” (niwan refers to the Mud Palace in the head); I removed “Awaiting Imperial Summons and Ascending” and replaced it with “Uniting with the Dao in True Realization,” completing the set of nine. I cleared away all fragmentary doctrines and pointed directly at the correct path. This is the subtle accord my master Taixu spoke of as “people of one heart, one mind.” The original nine chapters are no longer reproduced here, so as not to hinder students; readers will understand.

Once Kan and Li have joined (Kan is water and governs the kidneys; Li is fire and governs the heart—their union is “water and fire already in harmony”), body and mind are already blended into one, but they have not yet been refined and condensed into something subtle and firm. When you send the gaze inward and meet the process with intention, still take reaching emptiness and void as your foundation and holding to clarity and stillness as your method. Do not count the hours; keep practicing until emptiness reaches its limit and stillness runs deep, and you gradually enter a dim, chaotic, naturally silent depth.

Suddenly thunder breaks out, and in the middle of it something like silk tearing—that is the pivot of the “heavenly root” (the root from which yang stirs) opening. At once the dantian (the lower field where essence is stored) grows hot, and both kidneys feel as if boiling water. When you have this sign, instantly gather the whole body’s attention at the “ocean floor” (the region of the perineum), send the gaze inward and turn it toward the lü gate, and with intention draw what rises upward through it; the three passes (weilü, jiaji, and yùzhěn) rumble like thunder, “dragon thunder” like fire shoots straight up the cloud path, and then you feel breath and vapor gather in the mud pill (the upper dantian at the crown)—that is “wind arising in the moon cave.” Next you feel a round light well up inward between the brows; without knowing it, it crosses the magpie bridge (the passage opened when the tongue touches the palate) and descends the “heavy tower” (the throat). You only feel a flavor like borneol’s sweetness and mint’s coolness, seeping into heart and spleen—that is “the moon bright in the crimson palace” (the heart, also called the middle dantian). Then send it back to the “earthen cauldron” (the lower dantian, the furnace of refinement)—this is called gathering the medicine and returning it. The “cauldron” is a hexagram name in the Yijing; it is also what earlier alchemical formulas mean by “within one double-hour, two watches obtain the medicine.” Then silently circulate the weekly fire timing (following the rhythm of the celestial circuit to manage the fire)—this is called “four watches sealing and fixing.” What is obtained thereby is called the jade-fluid elixir returned to the cinnabar form; it has no fixed substance, yet there are likenesses one may compare. The Perfected One of Purple Yang (Zhang Boduan) said, “Take the solid in the center of the Kan position and break open the yin within the belly of Li”; he also said, “Grain upon grain, from the finest to the manifest”—such are the secret instructions for gathering and storing the medicinal material.

Min Xiaogen (Min Yide, a Qing-dynasty Daoist priest and compiler of this book) said: The method here for refining the Gu Shen (the valley spirit—the deeply hidden original spirit and vital spark) is qu kan tian li (taking from Kan to fill Li). That means drawing the yang from post-heaven Kan (Water, which holds a trace of true yang) and filling the hollow in post-heaven Li (Fire, whose center is yin), so that pre-heaven Qian and Kun return to their proper places.

Zhou Tian Fire Phases

Patriarch Xue (Xue Daoguang) said: “The moon’s fullness hinges on the secret oral instructions; the wonder of Zishi (midnight) in the double-hour cycle depends on transmission heart to heart.” He also said: “The number of breaths in the Zhou Tian must be counted with utmost lightness and fineness, like a jade clepsydra dripping on a cold night—just enough to match the fire phases.” This is the orally transmitted Zhou Tian fire phases (the rhythm of breath and intent’s advance and retreat over one full circuit). Hence Perfected Cuixu (Chen Nan) said: “Among ten thousand sounds the wind has just risen; over a thousand peaks the moon is full—then you must promptly issue the right command, and the Zhou Tian can turn.” That line comes from Patriarch Shi (Shi Tai), cited to confirm Patriarch Xue’s oral formula and to teach one to practice at the hidden moment when inner and outer nature align.

Master Hengyang held: In any elixir work, fire must be lit as yang rises at true Zishi, or the fire power is not whole; other hours are not the same. At midnight Zishi, the sun stands in the north, and it is also when human qi reaches the Weilü (the lower gate of the Governing Vessel). Kindling fire then matches the moment when inner yin is at its extreme and yang first stirs. Using heaven and earth’s true Zishi together with the body’s “living Zishi” (when yang naturally stirs within), both are set in motion—inner and outer unite. That is the subtle pivot of heaven and human initiating together, and thus one can fully borrow heaven and earth’s creation to form the elixir. “Stealing” here is the cunning gathering spoken of in elixir classics—not ordinary theft.

This explanation is very clear and apt. Those who truly hold the formula need not all practice in this way alone, yet it can still unpack the heart-transmitted secret of Patriarch Xue. As for the Zhou Tian counts he gives: from Zi to Si—the six yang hours—correspond to the tally of the Qian hexagram in the Yijing, two hundred sixteen in all; of these, the thirty-six yang at Mao hour, at “bathing” (pausing advance and retreat of fire at Mao and You), one should extinguish fire and not use it, so what actually runs is one hundred eighty. From Wu to Hai—the six yin hours—correspond to the Kun hexagram tally, one hundred forty-four; the twenty-four yin at You hour, at bathing one stops the talisman and does not use it, so what actually runs is one hundred twenty.

Together this makes three hundred breaths; counting together with the Bathing phases (stages in the fire timing when advance and retreat pause and the breath is allowed to settle evenly), that is three hundred sixty breaths in all; add the intercalary remainder (numbers borrowed from calendar intercalation to make the count complete) of twenty-four, and you have three hundred eighty-four breaths.

Using this number to explain “Zhou Tian breath-count, finely, finely counted” (feeling the breath of one full orbital circuit in the most subtle way) is indeed apt and clear; but if you teach practitioners to fix their minds on counting stroke by stroke during practice, even the Advance Fire (the stage of intensifying the fire timing) would already be too forceful and fussy, and the Retreat Talisman (the stage of easing the fire timing) would certainly fall into disorder—and how is that different from combing silk only to tangle it? Does it not run counter to what Bai Ziqing (Bai Yuchan) said—that working the fire must have advance and retreat, chou tian (drawing out and adding as circumstances require), and Bathing?

You should know: after Patriarch Xue finishes “Zhou Tian breath-count, finely, finely counted,” he immediately says “jade clepsydra sounds cold, drop by drop the talisman” (like a jade water-clock dripping in a cold night)—and that is to show the key to putting hands to the work: the intent is to teach people to have the breath-count clear in mind in ordinary times, and during practice to apply it according to the Zhou Tian through the spirit’s operation—not to dead-count on the spot. Bai Ziqing’s saying to apply it through tranquillity, purity, and naturalness is exactly this meaning; Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) saying “the fire timing need not be rigidly tied to clock hours; Winter Solstice need not be fixed at zi hour; for the method of Bathing, mao and you are also only figurative comparisons”—is the same meaning.

Therefore the original illustrated explanations, and all sorts of petty phrases about nasal inhalation, swallowing, sinking the palm, wheel positions, and the like, are entirely struck out, lest they block the mind’s eye. One only hopes that when students’ practice reaches this point, they silently take in “finely, finely” and “drop by drop” and follow that in practice; then naturally there will be no leakage of intention, and they will only feel heart and breath mutually depending—breath regulated, mind quiet—and that is the moment when the Jade Liquid Returning Elixir (a Neidan image for the first maturing of internal refinement and the return of essence and Qi) is complete.

Patriarch Xue also said: sages transmit the medicine but not the fire; since antiquity few have truly known the fire timing. Do not treat the fire timing as child’s play; you must carefully work it out together with the immortals.

From this we can see that the specific teachings on how to use the fire are not handed down precisely because practitioners might follow those words literally in practice and thereby obstruct the true huohou—the pacing and measure of fire in refinement (the urgency, slackness, and rhythm of fire during operation). Hence it is also said: “Do not treat it as child’s play; you must investigate it together with utmost care.” The learner should know: medicine is fire, and fire is medicine. When body and mind have already joined and you gather and apply them, that is called medicine; when body and mind have already subtly united and condensed, and you deliberately maintain that state of full harmony (baohe taihe), that is called fire. How can one take inhaling heaven’s wind, swallowing earth’s fluid, counting positions on the palm, or shifting breath step by step according to palace positions to be the huohou of circulating the zhoutian (a full cycle of internal qi)? That is almost like “counting sand while singing tally”—surface reckoning with no real substance—and only scatters the zhenyi (the single-minded, authentic intent). It is exactly what the warning against treating huohou as child’s play is meant to guard against. Students of this lineage must distinguish clearly.

Min Xiaogen (Qing-dynasty Daoist Min Yide) said: By middle antiquity, bodies whose yang qi had never been damaged had become rare, so the three gongjue (practice formulas) on Kan-Li union (water and fire joining), gathering medicine and returning it to the ding (the dantian “cauldron”), and zhoutian huohou were established. This is the jade liquid returning elixir (yuye huandan), aimed solely at replenishing post-heaven yang jing, yang qi, and yang shen that have already leaked away, so that the body again resembles the tongshen (the pure yang body before loss through emission). If someone hears the Dao while still young and is willing to begin, first practicing lianji zhuji (tempering the self and laying the foundation), one may undertake Qiankun union—this is the supreme vehicle and truly the most direct upper-grade dandan (elixir) method. When no such person exists in the world, one can only insert these three middle-grade dandan formulas within the upper-grade method, making up post-heaven deficiencies; only when one matches the body of pristine childhood can one proceed to the Qiankun union described below. What was originally recorded was clearly lower-grade dandan practice and could not have been written in the hand of Hengyang (the original author); therefore it was removed and not preserved.

Qiankun union is the work in which Qian (Heaven, pure yang) and Kun (Earth, pure yin) join.

Building on what the three preceding treatises on cultivation have explained: once Kan (Water) and Li (Fire) have joined and formed the “medicine,” that medicine is gathered back and placed in the cauldron for firing; when the firing reaches completion of the microcosmic orbit (nei qi circulating once through the body), the positions of the pre-heaven Qian (Heaven) and Kun (Earth) are fixed. From this point on, you must never again seek by outward forms and appearances; still empty the heart until emptiness reaches its limit; solidly fill the belly and hold stillness with utmost steadiness; with inner sincerity, observe for yourself the return of the one Yang—you will naturally attain the great stillness (dading) of condensed, unmoving presence.

In a moment of pure refinement and singleness, vital impulse suddenly stirs; at once the present forms of self and cosmos slip away, and you feel only vacant clarity, boundless and bright. The instant this awakening arises, gather it in immediately; breath at once grows still, and you enter the aperture (the body’s vacant, numinous pivot) in confusion—no knowing, no awareness, no sound, no taste. This is fully opening the Pass (xuanguan—the gateway to the pre-heaven realm) and penetrating that one aperture.

After a while, a single point naturally drops into the Huangting (the body’s central court)—only then does pre-heaven qi return and circulate on its own through the six directions (above, below, and the four quarters). Then you know: this body was always altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove; the heart is the chamber where spirit dwells, and within it you are nothing but true intent (zhenyi). You feel breath fresh and spirit clear, body harmonized and heart at ease; heaven, earth, sun, and moon seem soft as cotton—this is called the Golden Elixir returned (jinye huandan—the inner elixir condensed from essence and qi). You sense something round and luminous, flashing like a primal pearl on a crystal dish—yet in truth without form or image. What the sages call “the solitary clarity of emptiness and spirit,” and what past masters call “Qian and Kun merged, my Taiji complete”—is precisely this.

When students of the Way reach this stage, they must all the more carefully guard this subtle place, using it to wash the heart and withdraw into hiddenness—no thought, no design, no deliberate action—so that emptiness naturally never exhausts. This method is the ten months of nurturing the embryo (shiyue yangtai—after the elixir forms, stillness like carrying a pregnancy for ten months). Bai Yuchan (the Song Daoist master) said: “In a moment it congeals; in ten months the embryo is round—neither hexagram lines nor weights and measures.” The method is inherently simple; only superior practitioners can learn it; the step most easily brought to completion is this one.

The ten months of nurturing the embryo is precisely this stretch of quiet cultivation.

Once the spiritual elixir spoken of earlier has been settled in the spirit chamber—the place where it is housed and nurtured—this is precisely what the ancients meant when they said that the elixir furnace and the He Che (Qi circulating along the Ren and Du meridians) need no further strenuous effort, like a crane nurturing its embryo or a turtle regulating its breath, so that the breath flows on unbroken. Wang Chongyang (founder of the Quanzhen lineage) said: “Once the sacred embryo (Shengtai, the fetal body formed after the elixir coalesces) has condensed, nourish it with Wenhuo (gentle fire—steady, mild intent and breath) and let spirit and breathing settle naturally.” The Patriarch Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan) said: “There is no need to keep manipulating Huohou (the timing and intensity of the firing process); the furnace will stay warm of itself.” The Patriarch Xinglin (Shi Tai) said: “To practice only Qi cultivation is wasted effort; to practice only spirit preservation is likewise futile. The secret of the elixir formula lies simply in dwelling all day in empty stillness.” These are the true oral instructions for nurturing the embryo.

Although one has already obtained the great medicine and seen the five colors appear together—what people then call “forming the embryo”—the transformation has not yet taken place. Hence the immortal masters say: “Treasure in the Dantian (the lower abdominal center of refinement) is not yet true treasure; only when the spiritual embryo is formed anew is it the sacred embryo.” After obtaining the elixir, the ten months of nurturing the embryo truly begin. From then on one must guard it moment by moment and watch it constantly, like a dragon tending its pearl or a hen brooding an egg: warmth must never break off, and only then will the spiritual embryo grow firm day by day. Rely chiefly on a gentle mind: no thought should arise—for when thought arises, the fire turns too hot; the mind must not scatter—for when it scatters, the fire turns too cold. Seek neither excess nor deficiency; in the furnace, “warm and mild” is enough, and there is no other method. If you deliberately fabricate again, danger comes at once—be utterly cautious, utterly cautious!

Through the ten months, from start to finish it must be as constant as a single day: always preserve the equilibrium before the seven emotions (joy, anger, worry, thought, grief, fear, and shock) have stirred, and moment by moment guard the original nature before the eight consciousnesses (those of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, together with Manas and Alaya) have been tainted. Only then is one truly cultivating and refining, so that spirit is complete and the fetal body can transform. If elixir fire flares with heat, visualize between the two eyebrows a black sphere about the size of a bowl, draw it into the spirit chamber, and the heat will subside. This point must not be overlooked.

After the work of ten months’ embryo nurturing is complete, qi is full and shen is complete; the infant shows its form—this means the embryo has transformed. If dan fire flares with heat, visualize a bowl-sized black sphere between the eyebrows and draw it into the spirit chamber (the place where the original spirit is settled); the heat will naturally subside. This point must not be overlooked.

When the ten-month embryo work is finished, with qi sufficient and shen whole and the infant manifest, and it has already left the womb, one may move the spirit and change the cauldron (relocate the spirit to another locus and shift the vessel that cultivation relies upon). Qiu Chuji, the Eternal Spring Immortal of the Quanzhen lineage, held that this means ascending straight from the central palace within the body to the Upper Yellow. The Upper Yellow is called the Mud Pill Palace, also named the Heavenly Valley—it is the purest place in the human body.

This infant is entirely condensed from the pre-heaven (the original endowment before it falls into post-heaven turbidity); it is not ordinary jing, qi, and shen. Whether hidden or revealed follows the mind; it can pass through metal and iron without leaving a trace. Calling it embryo or calling it infant is only metaphor.

Patriarch Xue therefore said: what the Supreme Heart Transmission of the Most High means by “preserve it like an infant” is that one should nourish it as one would nourish an infant—using what has form to verify what is empty, a compassionate pointer. Duan Yang said: “Once the Dharma body has condensed, the spirit should be all the more settled.” Hence the step of relocating to the Heavenly Valley—not merely for its purity, but to emulate nature. Ordinary people do not grasp this and talk instead of going in and out, hiding and appearing. The student should still keep inner silence and stability, sit upright in the true position, not be misled by hun and po, and make inner and outer clear and bright.

Xiao Zixu said: when the spirit moves to the Heavenly Valley, it is precisely for refining nature (xing). When the three flowers gather at the crown and the five qi converge at the origin, even if for a time myriad disturbances arise, one can still sit upright in wuwei (non-action), guarding with wisdom—then the efficacy of opportunity arriving and naturally settling in stillness appears. Yet few students can remain steady; they are often unsettled by alchemists’ talk of the yang spirit (pure yang shen) showing form and similar marvels.

Patriarch Xue therefore said: the great Dao has no form—what form could it have? The great Dao has no name—what numinous sanctity could it have? All titles and supreme talk of marvels are nothing but using this to explain that—the wondrous use of making the false real. Its highest divine work lies entirely in cultivation at the moment of moving the spirit to the Heavenly Valley. Alas, this transmission has long been lost in the world. Those who receive it later must not treat the principles of nature (xing) as unrelated to the work on life (ming). Know that the purple-gold body (the accomplished body, bright and pure) is the condensation and manifestation of the one qi of emptiness—so if you wish to hide, it vanishes at once; if you wish to appear, it is manifest at once.

Patriarch Xue also said: the hidden meaning within can only be grasped in the heart by one who can experience the interval between great movement and great stillness. Do not mix in guesswork and debate; one must be reverent and careful.

Nourishing Wisdom in the Niwan

The niwan (Mud Pill Palace) is the heavenly valley of the whole person—like the North Pole among the stars of the Big Dipper, like the celestial anchor (tianzhen) in the world, like the Jade Clarity Heaven among the three heavens of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the highest of those realms.

Once the practitioner has moved the shen (spirit) to the heavenly valley, there is no other method to add; the moment you mix in artificial effort, you fall at once into illusion. The ancients were very clear on this. There is only one way: a dark, silent mind in deep stillness.

Because one still dwells in the human world, the true self has not dissolved, and true spirit is not yet complete—you cannot yet turn like the stars toward their pole, still less join the three heavens in one purity, nor merge with the celestial anchor as one. The celestial anchor is without self; you still cling to an “I.” The anchor star (Saturn) in the sky is condensed from a great block of true gold—block yet not block—so it can follow the heart of Heaven in one mind, living and transforming as it goes. Those who refine the golden elixir rely on their own true self, dharma body, and true spirit to condense; once they receive the Great Creation’s dot of refined essence and rise to abide in the heavenly valley, they should take the anchor star as their model and accord with Heaven. The anchor star can illumine the three powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity); I too must be able to illumine the three powers—only what I illumine is the three powers within this one body. If inner and outer are not both melted away and forgotten, free and without self, how can one penetrate the three realms, follow Heaven wherever one is, make movement and stillness one, and make gathering and dispersing not two? This was never something those without spirit-wisdom could expect, and it is certainly not something spirit-wisdom alone can preserve for long.

Patriarch Xue therefore said: when Pure Yang (Lü Dongbin) speaks of “emulating Heaven and modeling Earth,” how easy is that? Without relying on emptiness to the utmost and serene sincerity (xuji jingdu), it is hard to live in the dust yet step beyond it. For those who can reach it, the key lies in tempering oneself amid the world—what is called nourishing wisdom in stillness and refining wisdom in activity. Xinglin (Shi Xinglin) commented: the fear is only that you do not see through things and cannot let go, so you must refine further. I hold that the method of refining is nothing outside the word “sincerity” (cheng). Sincerity is not only completing oneself; it is also used to complete things. Thus in stillness, if there is sincerity, spirit naturally brightens; in activity, if there is sincerity, nature naturally clears through. When nature is clear through, spirit naturally settles deeply, and there is no worldly feeling under heaven that cannot be released; when spirit is bright, nature naturally rounds and penetrates, and there is no principle under heaven that cannot be seen through. This is the true investigation of things and extension of knowledge until the will is sincere; rectifying the heart and cultivating the person follow without forcing, like an echo answering a sound. This is the real secret of nourishing wisdom and refining wisdom. Here you must not use knowing to chase knowing, nor use discriminating mind to chase discriminating mind, nor use spirit to chase spirit—you only stabilize that place where “I am not spirit and yet am what spirit is,” and from there forge the nature that is sincere and therefore bright. Ming (life-destiny) is also within this. The noble person does not cultivate only xing (inner nature)—this is the work of refining shen. Going further to return to emptiness (huanxu), the foundation lies here.

Refining Spirit and Returning to Emptiness

The previous stage is that settled concentration gives rise to wisdom; the crux is to reach the utmost stillness and then set movement in motion again—therein lies the subtlety of what the Daodejing calls “empty yet never exhausted; the more it moves, the more it brings forth.” Though empty, it is not depleted; the more it is activated, the more it generates. From this one obtains great wisdom and great spiritual powers. But if one keeps activating without knowing how to return, how can wisdom be preserved, and how can the spirit avoid exhaustion? Hence the patriarchs (masters of former generations) also left the oral formula for “refining the spirit and returning to emptiness.”

The formula is this: amid all kinds of activity, alone uphold the inward taste gained from quiet observation. Regard this body and this world as immensely vast; within them the flow of qi—its hidden and manifest changes—has no fixed pattern, yet all is one with me. Look again at the ordinary person adrift in it, tiny as a single grain of millet, merely tossed by affairs. I alone embody what is real and constant: when things come, I accord with them—neither clashing with things nor casting them away. The ordinary person’s seven emotions (joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, desire) and the eight modes of consciousness flicker in and out; nothing more than the pervasive primordial qi (fanqi) filling everywhere. I only guard my own vast original essence (yuan jing), melting until even empty space is shattered. Then one feels things and self penetrate as one, all riding the circulation of the six qi (liuqi) of heaven and earth; ordinary people and sages share one heaven, with no further split between form and spirit. The mandate of “level ground becoming heaven” (pingdi chengtian)—completing heaven and earth’s transforming work—is entrusted to the sovereign lord; I do not grasp that authority. The responsiveness of “spirit present, transformation wherever it passes” (cunshen guohua) is handed to the flow of qi; I do not expect results. Just as the light of sun and moon necessarily shines, while sun and moon themselves have no deliberate intent—therefore they pierce past and present and stay bright, and through myriad kalpas (wanjie) do not decay. What is called refining and what is called returning are no more than this. To call them refining and returning is still a provisional method. One who is skilled at returning to emptiness is like one who has caught the fish and forgets the trap (de yu wang quan)—one need no longer cling to the method.

Refining Emptiness and Uniting with the Dao

Light necessarily reaches; sun and moon do not raise a thought—therefore they run through past and present and stay luminous, and through myriad kalpas they do not perish. Speaking of refining and returning is only thus; naming it refining and returning is still convenient provisional teaching. One skilled at returning to emptiness need only be like gaining the fish and forgetting the trap. Refining emptiness and uniting with the Dao is to refine this “emptiness” further so that it merges with the Dao, until the method itself no longer lingers.

What was described earlier as “returning to emptiness” (huanxu) already reaches the point where there is no barrier between the ten thousand things and the self, yet the mind still retains the distinction between “things” and “I.” Until that view is removed, self-restraint is not complete; one must, as the saying goes, take one more step at the top of a hundred-foot pole. The patriarchs also transmit a separate formula for “refining emptiness to unite with the Dao” (lianxu hedao)—burning away even emptiness itself and becoming one with the Great Dao. Only with that can one truly merge with the Dao.

This life and this body are ultimately illusory; though we see and hear, unless we shatter this layer of empty appearance, bias remains—here solid, there empty, or here empty, there solid. While that view persists, gradual erosion cannot be avoided; when worldly causes strike, one falls back into the tumult of the red dust. Thoughts come and go, pulled by deliberation—how then can one sever thoughts and forget feelings? The only way is to forget both the real and the illusory alike and wholly leave things to nature (ziran); only then does one naturally accord with the Dao. What is called “refining” is simply the phrase “break through empty space”—in that instant one merges with the Dao of nature.

This Dao is like the great thoroughfare on Jambudvipa (the human world as described in Buddhist cosmology); all things pass through it. “The royal way is level as a whetstone, straight as an arrow”—the worry is not reaching the end but unclear eyes, weak feet, and a divided will. Alas, the world has lost the correct path; people lack this clear eye within, and false teachers and impostors point to side paths and hand out wrong crutches, even driving south while claiming to go north.

The Supreme Lord (Taishang), pitying the world, sent down Master Li of Hengyang to expound the graded practices of Golden Elixir (jindan) cultivation; yet peddlers of the Way stole the true transmission and mixed in false doctrine to deceive the world for private gain. They do not see that this Way resides in the human heart, belongs to no exclusive division among Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist teachings, and is not limited to any one lineage. Everyone possesses an indestructible innate knowing and capacity that connects directly to the heart-transmission of the Supreme Lord. The Hengyang line stems from the Southern School (Neidan) and also received the Northern School (Quanzhen); both are under Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin)—one lineage, one transmission—how could their words differ in essence?

When I encountered this book, I found truth and falsity tangled together and therefore patched and edited it, like speaking in one room and hearing one’s own voice answer back. I intend to leave it for later students, to meet the seeking of fellow practitioners. May those who come after receive this heart-transmission: neither doubting metaphorical and borrowed language, nor exhausting spirit and body. With a single-minded stillness, see the original face directly; when not a single thought arises, the wheel of rebirth stops; karmic obscurations countless as sand grains vanish with each thought; equal with all beings, one shares the fruit of purity and stillness. How direct, how joyful—and what is there to hesitate about in accepting it here and now?

When practice reaches its utmost, one naturally receives it fully and returns it fully. The Yellow Emperor losing the pearl and finding it again, and Zengzi on his deathbed showing his hands and feet intact, are both scenes of the completion of this single move of “refining emptiness.” Disciples of the three teachings ought all to awaken to it at once.

Merging with the Dao in Truth

When cultivation reaches “refining emptiness and merging with the Dao” (the final step of neidan, in which even emptiness is refined and one becomes one with the Great Dao), there is no further method to apply. Measured by attainment, one has barely reached the sage’s stage of “knowing destiny” (zhiming—understanding Heaven’s mandate). The sequence of yielding consists only in repeatedly tempering speech and silence, action and stillness, until they are pure and mature. Then one acts without forcing yet naturally fits the measure, and the mind thinks without deliberate effort yet is naturally right—at ease and aligned with the middle way. Ordinary people only see that when he speaks, hexagrams and lines appear; when he is silent, images and signs appear; in action he keeps company with Heaven; in stillness he roams with Heaven. The eight hundred meritorious deeds are naturally complete, the three thousand virtues naturally fulfilled—like Confucius doing as he pleased without overstepping bounds, or Yao and Shun following desires that accord with what is fitting and thereby governing well. This is what Mencius called a “Heavenly person,” what Buddhism calls a “Mahayana golden immortal,” and what our tradition calls a “upper-grade celestial immortal.” Applied in the world, the state is well governed and all under Heaven is at peace: every move becomes the constant way of the world, every act the world’s standard, every word the world’s model; those far off look up in admiration, those near are never wearied. When spirit and penetration enter the Great Void, there is nothing that cannot be borne and nothing that cannot be sheltered; one is born with the ten thousand things without harming them, and circulates through the six directions (above, below, and the four quarters) without ruling over them. One opens and closes in cycle like Heaven and Earth, yet without Heaven and Earth’s defects, sorrow, or joy. The patriarch’s saying that one “rides alongside Fuxi and stands shoulder to shoulder with Yuanshi Tianzun” means in truth that one has already dissolved together with Fuxi and Yuanshi into the boundless. This chapter was originally titled “Awaiting the Edict and Ascending in Flight,” claiming that at this stage one must still accumulate merit and conduct and wait for Heaven’s decree to descend, for phoenixes and cranes to come and welcome one, and for soaring ascension— that view is narrow and still belongs to the effects of middle- and lower-grade elixir completion; it cannot verify upper-grade elixir methods, so the title has been changed accordingly; students need not doubt.

Elucidation of the Thirteen Rules of Ancient Health Preservation

First rule: Grasp the hands firmly (thumbs pressing the knuckles while making fists—a hand seal for guarding the shen), close the eyes, and let the heart sink into deep quiet.

The human body in fact has only one heart, yet it goes by three names: when it rests in its original place, it is called the human heart (renxin); when spirit and mind gather in the head, it is called the celestial heart (tianxin); when spirit and mind gather in the abdomen, it is called the earth heart (dixin). Their functions also divide into three: the celestial heart generates jing (essence), the earth heart generates qi (vital energy), and the human heart generates blood. In practice one should perform wugu (holding the fists firmly), close the eyes, and let the heart grow still and settled.

To gather the human heart inward, one must first perform wugu. Wugu means placing the tips of both thumbs between the hai and zi crease-lines in the center of each palm (hai and zi are branch names marking positions on the hand), then wrapping the thumbs with the other four fingers to form fists. The heart is the most restless and subtle of all; wherever a thought alights, it stops there. The heart also partakes of yin and yang—it is both odd and even—which is precisely what is meant by the heart in its proper place. Observe where it lodges: it lies in the centers of both palms. Once one presses the hai and zi creases and holds the fists, the human heart can abide in its proper place. When the heart guards its proper place, the qi of the whole body naturally gathers around it in mutual support; there is no need to summon it deliberately—it will collect above, below, and on all sides around the Jiangque (the crimson palace where the heart resides).

In ordinary people, post-heaven qi (the qi produced after birth from food, drink, and breathing) is moist, smooth, and warm in quality; where it gathers it resembles clouds and mist. When it reaches the heart’s proper place, these cloud- and mist-like substances must first turn into essential fluid (jinye), drip downward, and touch the heart—then they become blood. This cannot be completed in an instant, so after wugu one must still practice mingxin (sinking the heart into deep stillness, free of scattered thoughts). Mingxin must be sustained before its subtle effect appears; for this reason health cultivators always combine wugu with mingxin. This work must be carried on for a long time: first, because the heart is inherently hard to still, and asking it to sink calmly into deep silence is even harder; second, because only when the heart is both still and stable is the ming truly achieved, and only then will the qi of the whole body come to pay homage and assemble. When qi turns toward the Jiangque, it is not enough for it to arrive once and then turn into fluid; unless it gathers long enough and thoroughly enough, the cloud-and-mist effect will not appear. The heart must already be still and settled before the qi that gathers can be harmonized to the utmost, and only then will the moment of transformation reveal itself.

This is a settled principle—how can one still cling to the idea that success will come at once?

My teacher said that among people in the world, when phlegm and fluid accumulate in the middle palace (the region of the spleen and stomach) and turn into stubborn chronic illness, there is no other cause. It often happens right after a meal, when the spleen is weary—whether one sits blankly with the eyes open, or sits in a drowsy, heavy stillness with the eyes closed. Then the qi above, below, and all around the crimson palace (the region of the heart) gathers to guard and support, and before one’s eyes there may appear scenes like clouds and mist. Yet one gets up before the liquid has fully transformed, or after it has transformed one does not know the secret of inner nourishment and only seeks ease and comfort. The liquid that drips down does not enter the heart; instead it falls aside to the left and right of the middle epigastrium (the center of the stomach cavity), where it becomes phlegm. Over time it builds up and becomes phlegm-and-fluid illness.

Many who practice cultivation in the world also suffer from this kind of retained fluid—and again there is no other cause. They simply refuse to put real effort into the work of stilling the mind (mingxin). When the incense has burned only an inch or half an inch—a very short while—they switch to some other practice, and stop halfway while the numinous liquid has not yet transformed into blood. I know this illness well, so I always urge people to apply themselves sincerely at this step. I do not mind being tedious and have explained as above; whoever reads this must not treat it as stale talk and dismiss it. Alas! After the liquid has dripped down and turned to blood, if one does not go on with the work of regulating the heart-mind, another frightening illness will arise. That principle will be explained in detail later.

Second: press the tongue against the upper palate (the tip of the tongue lightly touching the upper palate), and with single-minded intent regulate the heart-mind.

In the human body, there is no place not ruled by the heart-mind. What is empty and open is the substance of the heart-mind; what is full and active is its function. The substance and function spoken of here are only on a coarse level; the deeper meaning lies in qi and blood. Because this one heart-mind governs the whole body, it is said that the body has nothing but the heart-mind.

When ancient sages taught cultivation, after closing the eyes and quieting the heart-mind, they had one place the tongue against the upper palate and single-mindedly regulate the heart-mind—what was the purpose? The tongue is the sprout-orifice of the heart-mind, the gate through which the heart-mind shows outward. With the tongue on the upper palate, spirit and heart-mind follow and ascend. Spirit commands and leads qi; qi in turn leads blood. Through this chain of effects, one’s own spirit has already risen to abide in qianyuan (the primordial position symbolized by Qian, here the upper region of the head), and within that is already contained the subtle use of visualizing niwan (the upper dantian in the brain).

This is merely to lightly visualize one’s own niwan; sometimes a bright, shining quality of qi appears. One then uses this single beam of light to envelop the entire body, front and back, and proceeds to the next stage of work. What is meant by advancing further in practice is first to regulate the breath: watch one’s breath follow this light from the crown, mouth, heart, and abdomen in sequence; then make the head empty and make heart and abdomen empty as well. This is the secret of “preserving emptiness.” Its subtlety lies in maintaining the intention of emptiness and step by step extending it from inside the body to outside. “Regulating” means: wherever it is not empty, use intention to make it empty; wherever it is not open, use intention to make it open. When you wish to reach outward yet feel as if walls press tightly inward, use intention to disperse and release—then the quality of qi naturally opens and flows. If it feels as though something holds the qi as if caught in a net, use intention to release, loosen, and free it. The knack is only to place the heart-mind in the land of wuheyou (the place where nothing exists)—the state of utter void. Even this must be grasped inwardly by the practitioner. This is what is called regulating—regulating with single-minded intent.

I heard my teacher say: Many people in the world who spit blood from the collateral vessels, and those with red turbid discharge, intestinal bleeding, red leukorrhea, and similar bleeding disorders, mostly owe their illness to the causes described above. After eating, when drowsiness sets in, blood would normally be nourished and generated; yet before that blood has entered the collateral vessels, been stored in the liver, and governed by the spleen, the person suddenly rises to attend to business, and the blood runs wild with nowhere to go. After stagnating, it erupts outward and gives rise to various alarming conditions. Many who practice life-nourishment find initial effects when they first practice, but before long suddenly develop all kinds of disorders and stop—such cases are numerous. This is not for some other reason; it is that the work of regulating the heart-mind was not carried out fully and smoothly. I know this fault well, so I do not tire of explaining it at length, as above.

Section Three: Spirit Traveling to the Water Mansion; Rubbing the Waist and Kidneys with Both Hands

Blood is the root of essence (Jing), and essence is the source of qi. For blood to transform into essence and essence into qi, the spirit (Shen) must travel to the Water Mansion—the lower watery region in internal alchemy, governed by the kidneys. If the spirit does not travel there, the water grows cold and cannot transform; what accumulates below is merely sluggish fluid, not true essence at all.

The ancients said: when the kidneys are warm, essence is produced; when the heart is cool, blood is produced. From these two lines one can see that spirit traveling to the Water Mansion benefits not only the kidneys but also the heart.

The method is this: use the gaze to guide heart-qi inward, sending it from behind the heart into both sides of the waist, where it circles separately around the left and right kidneys. In this way the blood that is generated descends with the qi and is distributed to both kidneys. Then, with the eyes and spirit continuously directing and circling, warm qi naturally arises and gradually becomes intense heat, as if boiling or roasting; the blood that descends with the qi is at once transformed into pure white true fluid. This substance is what people call essence (Jing).

But if this substance has not passed through such intense heat in both kidneys—left and right both hot as if boiling or roasting—and then, after meeting in front, ascended to the navel wheel (the pass where qi moves to and from the navel region), and been greatly refined by extraordinary true fire, it will only follow the previously accumulated fluid and lie hidden beside the bladder. When minister fire (the fire lodged in the gate of life and kidneys) stirs, it is released along with it—this is what people call seminal emission and white turbidity.

Therefore the secret lies entirely in working on both sides of the waist and both kidneys, keeping the waist and kidneys constantly very hot; then the pass at the navel wheel naturally becomes very hot as well, and essence on its own transforms into qi.

There are illnesses called red turbidity and red leukorrhea. This happens when descending heart-blood reaches the waist but, without being baked by true fire, enters the bladder with the airflow and lies hidden and stagnant; later, when affected by external pathogenic influence, it is stirred and released. In men this is called red turbidity; in women, red leukorrhea.

From this one can understand: the two kidneys must not be neglected in rubbing. The saying that shen must roam in the kidneys—the subtle point lies in the waist. If the waist has not been warmed once by zhenhuo (the true yang fire refined and nurtured within the body), then [qi/shen] follows the qi current into the bladder and hides there in stagnation. Later, when one is stirred by waixie (pathogenic influences from outside), it is drawn out and released: in men this is called chizhuo (turbid discharge with a red color in urine or emissions); in women, chidai (red-colored vaginal discharge). From this one can again see that both kidneys must be rubbed, and that shen roams in the kidneys—there is real meaning in that.

Here the text does not label the practice as “shen storing,” “shen moving,” “shen massaging,” or “shen revolving” (using shen to guard, circulate, knead, and turn within). It only speaks of shuang ca yao shen—rubbing the waist and kidney region with both hands—because beginners’ shen is not yet sharp, qi not yet strong, and fire not yet sufficient. In the gateways, acupoints, and meridians (the doors and pathways through which qi enters and leaves) there is often accumulated phlegm blocking the way. At that stage, if one only teaches guided inner work, it is hard for people to grasp; benefit may not appear, while illness can instead pile up. So, as a last resort, one is taught to use the hands to rub.

Alas—this was the predecessors’ reluctant expedient, born of dushi (delivering the world), so the teaching stops at this point. Yet some look down on it, thinking it is not neiyun (inner circulation with shen inside the body) but merely waigong (work done on the outside of the body). They set it aside and fancy themselves lofty in aspiration. Then various ailments arise, and the practice is finally abandoned. Pity! Knowing both the subtlety and the abuses in the world, I do not shrink from length and have explained it in detail above. Reader, do not treat this as ordinary old talk and pass it by.

Whoever practices this: when rubbing, do not use force. Let the mind turn with the palms, penetrating from outside inward, round and round without end. Do not count strokes; simply rub until the area is thoroughly hot. Do not imitate the vulgar monk who rushes through the Shousheng Jing (scripture on the causes of rebirth) as empty formality—take that as a warning.

Why? In the whole person, when qi and blood are vigorous, illness cannot invade. Shen is master of qi and blood; qi and blood are the root that nourishes shen. Qi and blood are the treasure of the body—everyone knows that, yet few know how to conserve them. Day by day, month by month, they decline; when one wishes to recover, there is no remedy.

If one can truly practice as described above, with sincere effort and long-term persistence without neglect, how could longevity not be achieved?

Fourth: Focus the spirit-mind (Shen) at the Weilu (the lowest end of the spine—the starting point of the Du meridian in Daoist cultivation), and frequently raise the shoulders.

This practice is a method for beginners who follow the above cultivation to correct deviations, and is also an essential practice that wellness practitioners must carry out. “Xin” (heart/mind) here refers to Shen (spirit). If one can truly practice to the utmost as described above, it means the spirit-mind is focused at the Weilu and the shoulders are frequently raised.

This practice is a remedial method for those who have just begun according to the preceding instructions, and it is a youwei (deliberate, action-oriented) gongfu that health cultivators must employ. The “heart” (xin) spoken of here means Shen (spirit). If one can truly cultivate to the utmost as described above, true Qi (innate vital energy) will naturally burst open the Weilü (the gate at the lower end of the Governing Vessel, the pass at the coccyx and sacrum), and warm current will rise along the spine, lifted layer by layer until it reaches the crown. In that case one need not fix the mind in forced concentration, nor repeatedly shrug the shoulders.

But beginners have already weakened their true Qi and their spiritual power is feeble. The Weilü stays closed and will not open; the Jiaji (mid-spine gate) has twenty-four segments, and each segment is clogged with phlegm and stagnation. Without this youwei approach, opening the passes is hard enough; to thread upward segment by segment, how could there be no obstruction? This work also cannot be stopped halfway. If the Weilü does not open, Jing (essence) cannot be held firm, and Qi that has already descended and settled in the body will not rest quietly in the abdomen: at best it becomes distended belly, flank pain, anal abscess, or hemorrhoids; at worst palpitations and anxious heart; even in mild cases sore teeth, red eyes, and dizziness. Even if by luck the Weilü opens and Qi reaches the back, stopping midway can still bring ailments such as back abscess, “mouth-facing” sores, or occipital and nape carbuncles.

Therefore the ancient masters, having no alternative, transmitted this youwei method to dispel these disasters. The formula is: fix Shen entirely at the Weilü, and at the same time at the anus adopt the posture of holding back a bowel movement—then Qi will shrink inward and be drawn up. Proceed thus and the Weilü will surely open. Then incline the head slightly forward, intend from below to lift upward, and raise both shoulders; Qi will ascend segment by segment through the Jiaji. Each time it passes a segment, add another upward lift and shoulder raise, until you clearly feel the Qi has reached Yuzhen (the gate at the occipital bone). Then you may continue with the practice indicated below.

This section is the arcane formula spoken of in the alchemical classics as the “one step of the Yellow River flowing backward” (the step in which Qi does not flow downward and leak away, but turns and surges upward along the Governing Vessel). There are three passes: first Weilü, second Jiaji, third Yuzhen. At this point only two of the three are open, so to get past this stage you must still follow what is indicated below, because the Yuzhen pass has not yet been cleared.

Fifth instruction: Direct the gaze toward the crown gate, then knock the teeth and stir the mouth.

What is meant by “directing the gaze” is not opening the eyes to look outward, but closing them and turning the eyeballs downward while letting qi rise upward—as if the spirit were sinking into a deep abyss yet the mind single-mindedly pours upward. Only such “seeing” is correct. The phrase “crown gate” (dingmen) is marked so that the practitioner can check whether this qi has already passed the Jade Pillow (the pass at the back of the head on the Governing Vessel).

There is also an extremely subtle secret formula that health cultivators must practice but rarely disclose. The key still lies in the two words “crown gate”: “crown” is the highest point, and “gate” is the Heavenly Gate. One must guide this qi to rush straight up from the Jade Pillow pass, visualizing it shooting into the sky until one feels a vast, dim depth—as if sun, moon, and stars were still beneath one’s own spiritual light—only then is it enough. In this way the body’s acquired turbid qi is transformed into innate clear qi (the original innate vital breath). Only after reaching this stage does knocking the teeth and stirring the mouth (lightly tapping the teeth and moving the tongue in the mouth to produce saliva) avoid becoming sluggish and muddled.

The Heavenly Gate spoken of here is not a gate in the heavens; it is one’s own crown of the head—the portal where one connects with heavenly qi. This gate is where the body’s true qi of the celestial gang (qi in resonance with the gang force of heaven) resides; when this qi descends from above, all yin influences are transformed. Once this pass is cleared, the three passes of the body (Weilü, Jiaji, and Jade Pillow) fall like splitting bamboo—one need not expend further “troops and generals.” This is the treasure of those who cultivate inner life. To obtain this single qi, one must break through the pass and rush upward to link with the celestial gang of heaven; otherwise it merely condenses at the crown gate and cannot be used for oneself. Even if one later switches to another method and refines diligently, one may still ride clouds and command the void, with the spirit entering and leaving through the Heavenly Eye (the inner aperture between the eyebrows)—that is already very advanced, yet it is still only one path among immortals.

As long as one obtains this stream of Qi and continues to cultivate, one will naturally attain the marvelous benefit of ascending in broad daylight (living ascension to immortality). My teacher has already explained this in great detail. That is why, at this stage, it is set forth again at such length.

As for knocking the teeth and stirring the mouth, these are only minor techniques for gathering the spirit and guiding the fluids; yet for those who nourish life, they are of great benefit.

Tao Hongjing (style name Zhenbai), in the True Declarations (Zhen Gao), records a man who did not understand cultivation yet lived beyond a hundred years, and the officials of the netherworld bureau dared not approach his dwelling. When the reason was investigated, it turned out he suffered from a wind disorder and his teeth constantly knocked together on their own—simply because of illness. Yet according to Daoist method, when an ordinary person knocks the teeth once, all the spirits throughout the body assemble at once. Although this man’s teeth struck often because of disease, his spirits did not dare leave; the passes and orifices were therefore guarded firmly, his body emitted a radiance, and ghosts could not draw near. There is real principle in this—such is what the Zhen Gao records.

As for stirring the mouth: beneath the tongue are two openings, one leading to the heart and one to the kidneys; alchemical scriptures call this the Fire–Water Splendid Pool (Shuihuo Huachi). When the tongue is stirred, fluids arise naturally; one can also silently draw the Qi that subsequently rises upward into the mouth, making it easy to swallow. Hence it is said that this greatly benefits those who nourish life.

The sixth [practice]: quietly revolve the two eyes and frequently swallow Qi.

Although this passage is addressed to beginners, its principles are subtle and profound. What is meant by quietly circulating the two eyes is to gather and concentrate the spirit. When the ascending qi has already passed the Jade Pillow (the pass at the occiput behind the head), or has already descended into the mouth, sweet dew (the fluid essence produced in practice) will naturally flow down with it. You must use the tongue to stir it and swallow it together with that fluid. Residual qi will also linger in the Mud Pill Palace (the upper dantian in the head) through teeth-knocking and tongue-stirring. When you again circulate the two eyes, you will feel moistness, then warmth, then cool clarity; the spirit-light becomes round, white, and pearl-like, suspended in the empty space before the eyes. The text below says “frequently swallow qi” rather than “swallow fluid”—the intent is deep: beginners tend to have abundant yin fluids and weak yang qi, and fear going astray; swallowing qi is to support yang so the lower field (the lower dantian in the lower abdomen) stays warm, and water and fire in the body stay balanced. This is a secret key for correcting imbalance. Check against the alchemical classics (neidan texts) and you will see this teaching is not groundless. The master says that even if one has already gone beyond the most subtle realms, this work is not wasted—how much more so for beginners. For the Way of the elixir (neidan) takes yang as root; supplementing yang means removing excess yin. The classic says: if yang is not fully spent one cannot become a ghost; if yin is not fully spent one cannot become an immortal. From this one can understand. I hope those who see this will practice without doubt. Only: if the qi you swallow has not yet reached the lower field, you must not stop halfway.

Seventh: settle the spirit, massage the abdomen, and with both hands grasp the two feet.

Although this exercise is explained for beginners, it contains the principle of fire and earth mutually generating each other and the three houses (in neidan: essence, qi, and spirit—or dragon, tiger, and intent) gathering as one. If the qi you swallow has not reached the lower field, you must not stop halfway.

Seventh: settle the spirit, massage the abdomen, and with both hands grasp the two feet.

This stage of practice is explained for beginners, yet it already holds deep meaning: the mutual generation of Fire and Earth, and the gathering of the Three Families—the meeting of Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) in Neidan (internal alchemy). It can strengthen Spleen-Earth, dry and transform dampness, gather Qi and settle the spirit, and bring the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) back into one focus. When the mind and spirit are clear and still, what is turbid and heavy settles into Earth; when you massage the abdomen, Qi circulates and Spleen-Earth follows smoothly. As the hands climb upward, the body naturally bends forward, and the clear, light Qi held in the abdomen passes through Weilü (the pass at the base of the spine) and rises to Niwan (the upper Dantian at the crown). When the feet push against the stretch and the lower legs straighten, Qi spreads outward and reaches the feet; then, under the pull again, the Yang qi of the soles rises from the insteps, ascends to Weilü, and rises together with the Qi moving through the abdomen, passing Jiaji (the pass in the middle of the spine). The fine points are hard to put fully into words; read what comes below and you will see this is not empty talk.

The eighth method is: bow the body, “beat the drum” within, count the breaths, and concentrate the spirit.

Bowing the body continues from the method above, with an added use of Wuwei (non-action—not forcing, letting things follow their natural course). When you sense that the Qi of both feet has already risen from below through Weilü, release the feet, cup the head with both hands, cover the ears with the palms, and tap with the fingers below Yuzhen (the pass at the occipital region), so that a drum-like sound is heard inside the body, while you count the breaths and concentrate the spirit.

This method is called fuying (bowing the body). It follows on from the previous practice and adds the application of Wuwei (non-action—not forcing or deliberately straining). By then you already feel the Qi in both feet rising through the weilü (tailgate, the pass at the base of the spine). You then release the feet, cup the head in the hands, cover both ears with the palms, and tap with the fingers toward the area below the yuzhen (Jade Pillow, at the occiput). The sound is like a drum, hence the name minggu (drumming). Drumming is meant to summon clarity and spirit. Bowing the body and striking the drum is to call back your Yang Shen (the clear yang spirit in practice), so that it ascends via the back—one way of what is meant by cheng cha da Han (riding a raft to reach the River of Heaven—a image for the spirit traveling up the back to the crown). When you count the breaths, you sit upright again and do the same. At that point the Shen (spirit) is gathered in the Niwan (mud pill, the upper Dantian within the head), about to “descend to hear affairs” (as if dwelling on high and overseeing the body—a image for spirit presiding from above). Why count the breaths again? The Niwan is where one “hears affairs”; rest still belongs in the Zhonghuang (central yellow—the body’s center, associated with Earth). When counting breaths, the Yang Shen has already withdrawn to the “earth palace.” Counting breaths is for jin yang huo (advancing the yang fire—using the breath to drive yang Qi), meaning each breath returns to the navel region—again “dwelling in peace without forgetting danger.” So the secret of counting breaths is not to count on the ascent, but to fix attention on the moment of descent, so that every breath returns to the navel. Hence what follows on ningshen (concentrating the spirit) is simply using counted breaths as the means to concentrate spirit.

The ninth instruction: sway the waist, move the legs, and with both hands push upward as if supporting heaven.

This passage describes the subtle effect of “stillness reaching its extreme, then movement arises naturally”—something shallow observers cannot guess. After one has focused the spirit in concentration, the flow of Qi within the body easily becomes blocked, so one should first walk slowly for ten or twenty steps; then sit and swing the waist nine, ten, or fifteen times; then rise and shake out the legs, the same number on left and right as for the waist swings. Next perform “supporting heaven” (raising both arms slowly upward as if holding up the sky), three or five times, rising slowly and lowering slowly. These are all gentle daoyin (guiding Qi and blood through movement); the overall aim is for the joints to feel open and unobstructed, without letting the breath grow coarse.

Tenth: Left and right draw the bow; calm the heart and quiet the breath.

This section has no deep hidden meaning; practitioners need only follow it. That is, with a calm heart and even breath, open and close to left and right as when drawing a bow.

Eleventh: No self, no others; the heart like still water.

On the surface this looks like a bias toward xinggong (cultivating inner nature), but in fact it is the remarkable verification that appears when those who cultivate ming (life-essence) are truly grounded in practice. Without this step in every session of work, success is impossible. The method is broadly the same as at the start of practice: proceed again with a mind “not stained by a speck of dust” and “all sounds stilled into emptiness,” and you will naturally arrive at this genuine state. If you truly reach it and sustain it for a long time, you are not far from the Great Dao (the fundamental Way).

Twelfth: The whole body constantly warm; day and night full and harmonious.

When gongfu has reached this point, one is close to becoming an immortal. But the reason one can be like this still comes from what went before—it is not something obtained by luck. “The whole body constantly warm” means the entire body is often warm; “day and night full and harmonious” means one feels replete and at ease both by day and by night.

Thirteenth: Stillness and movement are not two; harmonize light with dust.

At this stage one has already risen above disxian (immortals who remain in the human realm), and it is not the realm of shuixian (immortals of another kind of transcendent domain) either. What remains to be awaited is only the munibaozhu (the “luminous pearl”—a metaphor in Neidan for the radiant treasure of completed inner cultivation, originally the Buddhist mani pearl). This may be beyond what those who merely pile up practice without full ripening of gongfu can reach on tiptoe. “Stillness and movement are not two” means movement and stillness are no longer treated as separate; “harmonize light with dust” comes from the Daodejing and means to dim one’s own brilliance and blend with the dust of the world.

The thirteen sections above have long been held in high regard and are essentially the principles that practitioners of nurturing life (yangsheng) look to as their guide. Yet when those who cultivate have not received the true secret transmission, harm often follows. On the basis of what my lineage passed down, checked against alchemical texts (works on refining the elixir), I have brought the material together and set it forth under the title Elucidating the Subtle (Chuanwei). The language is plain, but the meaning runs deep. I do not adopt the usual worldly talk of dragon and tiger (images for yin-yang), Kan and Li (the water and fire trigrams), hexagram lines, or weights in ounces and taels. Those who practice this Way, when they read it, I trust will not dismiss it lightly or set it aside. Compiled on the fifteenth day of mid-winter in the wuyin year of the Jiaqing reign (1818) by Xiaogen of Mount Jingai (style name of Min Yide, a Liu lineage Daoist priest of the Daoguang period), at the Lougong work station (the place where official duties were carried out).

Compendium of a Narrow View (Guan Kui Bian — “viewing heaven through a tube,” a humble admission that one’s vision is limited)

Xiaogen says: I heard my teacher say that in reading, what counts is inward savoring, and what counts even more is a distinctive eye of one’s own. Now, savoring his digest of Treatise on Immortal Cultivation and Dispelling Confusion (a work that distinguishes true cultivation from error): the Way of the celestial immortal (the highest grade of immortality in Daoist teaching) is utterly simple—so why does it say that only the “superior person” (shangshi) may learn it? That follows Laozi’s “When the superior person hears the Dao, he diligently puts it into practice.” The superior person has a pure endowment and a single-minded aim; desire cannot cloud his original nature, and gain and loss cannot sway his heart. He can habitually settle his mind in the realm of “no-where” (non-attachment to externals) and again and again gather himself into a state “as if dead yet alive” (extreme stillness and inner presence). Therefore he does not turn back after repeated setbacks and holds fast to the work of undivided unity—that is why he can learn it. Otherwise, taking the body as lead and the mind as mercury, stillness as water and insight as fire—this is the inner alchemy (neidan) shorthand that treats body and mind, quiescence and wisdom, as the lead, mercury, water, and fire of the furnace—how direct could the method be? There are no hexagram lines and no ounce-and-tael measures; even cleverness has nowhere to apply, so it might seem that the dullest person could learn it. What matters is that accomplishment in this Way depends entirely on the power of wisdom (huili); that is why only the superior person may learn it.

They compare the body to lead and the heart-mind to mercury—images often used in Neidan (internal alchemy)—and the analogy fits well. When lead and mercury combine, the lead grows supple; when mercury joins with lead, the mercury sets and no longer flows—this is called “mercury dead” (gusi). The same idea applies to body and mind: only when body and mind merge does cultivation become truly effective. When the body is guarded by the mind, it grows warm; when the mind has the body to rely on, it settles. With a warm body and a settled mind, practice has a firm footing and no longer feels like drudgery. This is both the first essential knack at the outset and a constant method never to be set aside. Persist in this over time, and form and spirit can grow equally refined, unite with the Dao (the Way), and return to the true.

Taking meditative stillness (ding) as water and discerning insight (hui) as fire is simply naming two functions; the logic of water and fire is already implied. Ding means the ten thousand sounds fall silent—clear, empty, and always still. Hui means that as soon as a thought arises it is at once removed, and nothing subtle escapes illumination.

Taking the body as the ritual furnace (the place where one settles the practice as if setting up a furnace) and insight as fire is again only two functions; the principle of water and fire is contained in that as well. The ding within it is still the ten thousand sounds silent, limpid and always still; the hui within it is still thoughts arising and being cleared at once, with no detail left unlit.

When the text speaks of taking the body as altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove, and the heart as the spirit chamber—the place where spirit is housed and refined—the intent is profoundly subtle. If you take this “body” to be the physical form (the visible fleshly body), where are altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove to be placed? Pursued that way, one either stalls at the level of an earthly immortal (dishen) or edges toward a water immortal (shuixian). If you take this “body” to be something other than the physical form, then altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove must be set up outside the body; pursued that way, one either drifts into heterodox paths or comes close to “furnace fire”—refining in an external furnace.

Moreover, the text clearly says “body” (shen); it is not speaking of something set up elsewhere. What are called altar, furnace, cauldron, and stove are only metaphors; the body spoken of is the Dharma body (fashen). The Dharma body is the physical body and yet is not the physical body; it is not the physical body and yet is precisely the physical body—it cannot be seen with the eyes or heard with the ears. Thus whatever can be seen with the eyes is not it, and whatever can be heard with the ears is not it. Only when ordinary seeing and hearing are stilled does one truly hear and truly see—and that is the true Dharma body.

Then the heart that can be pointed to here as the spirit chamber is obviously not the heart figured as mercury (gong) in alchemical metaphor. What heart is this? It is the Confucian heart of benevolence (renxin), the Buddhist Buddha-heart (foxin)—in our Way we call it the Heart of Heaven (tianxin). It too must be freed from ordinary seeing and hearing before it can truly be seen and heard. Outwardly nothing lies beyond it; inwardly nothing lies within it—utterly deep and unified. In haste it must not be abandoned; in hardship it must not be lost. Hence it is said: this is the crux of refining the elixir (liandan).

Read again the passages on “gathering” (caiqu): they mean that one must sit upright in stillness (duanzuo). Outwardly without outer limit, inwardly without inner limit, deep and unified—never to be dropped in urgency, never lost in turmoil—therefore it is called the essential point of elixir refinement.

To further savor what the text says: speaking of gathering and taking means sitting upright and practicing concentration; speaking of firing the cauldron means holding and tending; speaking of advance and retreat means acting and stopping; speaking of embankments and dikes means breaking off at times and resuming at times, with the mind not single-pointed; speaking of extracting and adding means application—and application is clear, quiet, and natural. Speaking of fire timing means walking, stopping, sitting, and lying down; speaking of medicinal ingredients means Jing (essence), Shen (spirit), Hun (soul), Po (corporeal soul), and Yi (intent). The text further says: using true Qi to steam and nourish is bathing; stopping thoughts is tending the fire; subduing body and mind is field combat; gathering spirit and Qi is defending the city; forgetting cleverness and cutting off deliberation is killing and giving life; where intent first stirs is the Mysterious Female; merging into one whole is union; returning to the root and restoring life is the elixir formed; shifting spirit and changing the vessel, having a body outside the body, is shedding the shell; returning to the origin and source is true emptiness; shattering empty space is ultimate completion. Such instruction truly lays everything out on the tray. To meet it yet not practice, or to practice yet not diligently—ultimately falling to the rank of lower ghosts—how regrettable!

Xiao Gen said: Listening to the master, what is recorded above has indeed been laid out completely, but one should still extract and savor the essential points within, so as not to fail the compassionate heart of the holy teacher’s revelation.

The phrase “maintaining, holding, reflecting, and attending” has four meanings, but in actual practice they fall into two kinds. The four are: “maintaining” (cao) for walking, “holding” (chi) for standing still, “reflecting” (zhao) for sitting in quiet, and “attending” (gu) for lying down. When one moves, the mind easily scatters outward; when idle, it easily slackens and neglects; when sitting, it easily grows dull and confused; when lying down in drowsiness, it easily forgets—so the holy masters marked out these situations to make the teaching complete. The two kinds of use are: “maintaining” and “holding” require exertion, and one employs these two words only when the spirit rests in the lower pole (the lower region, roughly the lower Dantian) and one must seek support toward the middle and upper regions. “Reflecting” and “attending” do not use force; they are appropriate when the spirit dwells in the upper pole (the upper region, roughly the upper Dantian and Mud Palace)—only then is the method correct.

Speaking of advance and retreat, these are called “acting” (zuo) and “stopping” (zhi). Do not interpret these two characters as doing and ceasing in ordinary practice; they refer to advancing the Yang fire and retreating the Yin talisman (in Neidan, the advance and retreat of regulating the fire phase). “Acting” means advancing the Yang fire; “stopping” means retreating the Yin talisman. Advancing the Yang fire is not pushing the breath of respiration forward; rather, after the breath is evened and regulated, one lets it descend and holds it there for a longer time—much like the effect of holding the breath. Retreating the Yin talisman means the mind-intention withdraws slightly backward, and one immediately performs the work of releasing all entanglements.

Speaking of embankment and guard (protecting the practice and preventing breaks and loss), one speaks of “broken continuity and lack of single-mindedness”—when broken, connect again; when not single-minded, become single-minded. If practice is interrupted because something obstructs it, resume it; if this work is neglected because one also does other practices, drop the others and still devote oneself solely to this one—that is “when not single-minded, make it single-minded.”

If one identifies “application” (yun-yong) solely with “withdrawal and addition” (chou-tian—the decrease and increase by which internal alchemy adjusts the fire phase), that should be checked against the earlier line “tranquility and naturalness as application”: the two confirm each other, and the meaning becomes clear—genuine application is tranquility and naturalness. As for setting aside other methods and still devoting oneself exclusively to one practice, that is what “otherwise, specialize” (bu ze zhuan) means.

Formulas such as “bathing” (mu-yu—the scheduled pause in the fire phase for gentle nurturing) and “nurturing the fire” (yang huo) should be followed straight from the original text in practice; there is no need to overthink them, so no further notes are added here. Only the final phrase “no-thought within thought” (nian zhong wu nian) calls for careful reflection: practices like concentrating the spirit (ning shen) and quiet stillness (jing ding) all depend on true intent (zhen nian)—what is meant by true intent is that single sincere mind present while you sustain and watch over the work.

Transmission of the Immortal Heart (Tianxian Xin Zhuan): transmitted by the Taixu lineage; compiled and expounded by the later student Min Yide (style name Xiaogen). Preface.

Cycles of fortune and constraint have no fixed, unchanging norm. The age may flow freely or choke up; the Way’s fortune may shine clear or fall dark—and the pivot lies in human beings; Heaven and Earth only turn accordingly. Before the middle antiquity, each person’s spirit was whole in itself; fortune was not blocked, and the Way was not dimmed.

People today chase only outward form and reputation, straining to reject emptiness, stillness, and silence. The disease begins with teachers: at first they misread subtle words and forgot “purity” (read as zhěng, meaning whole and unmixed)—when nature and disposition are not pure, one falls; thus they mislead themselves and others. Then those who use words for private gain join in and recruit followers; most students sink into their methods and never repent until death, wholly failing to see that Subtle Being and Subtle Non-being truly depend on each other, and that sages use this very relation to observe the hidden pivot. So its function is this: the unfeeling and the feeling are one, not two.

Teachers in recent times do not see this layer; students do not awaken to it. Custom hardens into habit, and all fall into the blockage and exhaustion of the lower epoch (xia yuan)—body, world, and the Way’s fortune are nearly beyond asking. The Maker of things can do nothing about it; among the ten thousand things, humans are the most spiritually endowed. To turn this fortune around, one must first take ancient sages as model.

Whom do we mean by “modeling antiquity”? In our land there is Fuxi; in the Western Regions there is the Compassionate One (Shakyamuni); in the Eastern Land there is Taiyi—all enlightened and nurtured the upright, kindly transformed hearts, and left subtle teachings for later ages. The scriptures of the Three Teachings are still here; read them with a washed heart and you will know that world and self are not two matters, and that nature (xing) and life (ming) are originally one thing. Then you know that what governs the world is the human being, and what governs the human being is spirit (shen). The Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity) run through as one thread—such is the principle.

Did not Taiyi say: in this life’s body of a person, the heart is Heaven, the body is Earth, and thoughts are the person? Sincerity of intent, rectifying the heart, cultivating the person, ordering the household, even governing the state and pacifying all under Heaven need not be handled as separate tasks—begin only from purifying thoughts and returning to reverence, and come back to this spirit. The Three Powers as one continuous thread—that is precisely the meaning.

Taiyi—not only the supreme deity revered in Daoism, but also the primordial “One”—did he not say: in the body of a human life, the mind is Heaven, the body is Earth, and a single thought is the person. Sincerity of intention, rectifying the mind, cultivating the self, regulating the family, and on through governing the state and bringing peace to all under Heaven need not be handled as separate tasks; it is enough to begin by purifying thought and returning to sincere intention. The method by which the perfected persons of high antiquity governed the world did not rely on institutions outside the person, nor did they seek maintenance beyond thought itself—they simply carried their own proper share to the utmost and took that as achievement. If every person took fulfilling oneself as learning, how simple it would be—and how profoundly subtle, quiet, and at ease! That people can complete this learning through themselves is nothing more than emphasizing letting aspiration and thought return to empty stillness. This is what is meant when it is said: the root of all under Heaven is in the state, the root of the state is in the family, the root of the family is in the person. I will explain further: the root of the person is in the mind, and the root of the mind is in spirit (Shen). When spirit is not empty, it is not clear and bright; when it is not still, it is not at peace. Without clarity and without peace, how can spirit be refined and pure? Therefore learning honors empty stillness, and the movement of the Dao depends entirely on this spirit.

After the Three Dynasties, people competed for achievement and took visible results as sufficient grounds for trust—thus opening the first breach of craftiness and falsehood. Then the movement of the Dao grew obscure, and the age’s fortune closed day by day. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin), pitying the world, opened the school of “healing the age”—that is, curing the way of the world through one’s own cultivation. My ancestor Elder Li of Niwan assisted from the hidden realm. Alas, worldly custom grew ever more thin; the multitude was stained with defilement, and only my master Elder Tai Xu was found among the vast many. He carried on the lineage without break, could guard empty stillness, acted in the mean without leaning toward merit, and brotherly love arose wholly from the heart’s own nature. In the bingwu year of the Qianlong reign I first heard of this in the Dadi Cave within the Gaitian grotto-heaven; the immortal Qiu Pengtou silently confirmed and transmitted it in a state of unknowing without contrivance, and I had long since engraved it in my heart. Now I deeply regret that my learning does not match my teacher’s and that I cannot spread this wordless heart-sound to students; I have only compiled three fascicles in two parts, altogether entitled Immortal Heart Transmission. If later students can receive it and truly fuse it into one consistency until spirit transforms, nothing will fail to show immediate effect. To reveal its main thread: nothing beyond the four words—empty, still, constant, and sincere.

The four-character principle begins with making the Shen (spirit-mind) complete, and takes the completion of Shen as the ultimate goal of this practice. In essence, it comes down to this: if one can truly fuse everything into one and enter into Shen transformation, all effects will manifest spontaneously, just as when a pole is erected, its shadow appears naturally. The main thread (central principle) can be summarized in four characters: emptiness (xu, void/immaterial), stillness (ji, quietude), constancy (heng, constancy), and sincerity (cheng, genuineness). The foundation of these four characters begins with completing the Shen. Taking Shen completion as the ultimate goal means nothing more than making Shen the master of one's body and one's conduct in the world. In the first month, on the twenty-first day of the Jiawu year of the Daoguang reign (1834), Min Yide, the Hermit of Jingai Mountain, wrote this respectfully.