《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 15

This passage is a textual study of the “bi lu” (script talisman) corpus—the liturgical texts written by hand for transmission and register conferral (chuandu shoulu). When one compares the added character “wan” (play) as it appears in various editions, it does not match the usual form of the “bilu” (written record) rite at all; the discrepancies are many, and for a long time there was no settled view. Checking the version of this rite personally compiled by Perfected Lin Lingsu (a Northern Song Daoist master), not a single line mentions bi lu.

Turn next to the Suzhou edition in five-character verse: the text embeds the character “wan,” and though the added graphs look the same as in the ancient four-character edition, the whole is cast in rhyming lines, with meaning arranged according to the classics (jinglun)—organizing sense by canonical order—which makes it quite suitable as a base text for the bilu rite. Only from the closing phrase “qi shou zhen gu nai” (Qi receives truth and holds firm—translating the sense of the line ending in “gu nai”) downward there is no wording that closes the full scripture; it seems the ending is missing. The Suzhou text came from fa jia (practitioners in the Daoist lineages that perform ritual methods), so the author asked them again. They said the ritual text indeed ends at that line; at transmission (formal conferral of the register and methods), however, a few sentences are transmitted orally and may be recited further according to the method being performed—matters they dare not disclose casually.

Min Yide (who here calls himself “Yide”) took this as a clue and, from that ancient five-character edition long used as the bi lu rite’s jie jing (closing scripture for the whole rite), appended the four lines—“Qi fang yuan de qiu; San huang wu di pai; Wu jing si zi shu; Kong Meng jiao wu lei” (roughly: Qi guards the mound of primordial virtue; the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors transmit; the Five Classics and Four Books; the teaching of Kong and Meng without distinction of kind)—after the Suzhou text. Thus the sense runs smoothly, beginning and end cohere, and the rhyme scheme holds throughout; he therefore treated the Suzhou version as one recension and the ancient version as another.

He also reflected: why does the added “wan” match the four-character edition in his own collection? If this rite were truly meant for bi lu, why does it not resemble the form of “wan” added in his own bilu rite? And why, when those fa jia use this rite to perform various methods, do they all obtain efficacious response? The reason is that the added “wan” takes its meaning from the authentic purport of the Yu wen (Jade Scripture) lineage of Yuanshi (the Primordial Lord of the Daoist pantheon); using it to carry out the various methods, every kind of correspondence is as it should be. What they mean by “a few lines orally transmitted, flexibly continued according to the method” is that for each method performed, a separate mnemonic formula is preserved.

Practitioners treated this transmitted edition as the Zongchi ke—a comprehensive liturgy that gathers and coordinates all methods—and did not question that status. Yet although they honored it as a general liturgy, once Min Yide obtained the text he intended to fix it as a specialized liturgy devoted to bi lu (writing fu lu, talismans and registers, with the brush). Held up as a general liturgy, it would by rule have to incorporate the character wan; fixed as a brush-talisman specialty, it would by rule have to incorporate the character yuan, in line with established forms. The decision was therefore to use yuan and not wan. When the revised version was shown to fajia—masters skilled in ke yi (liturgy)—their first reaction was surprise; after Min Yide explained the reasons, they responded warmly in approval and said that the forebears had returned from the Ba region (present-day Sichuan and Chongqing), and that this method of deliverance and salvation had been handed down through generations; when the rite is performed, additional closing formulas for actual use are appended, and the various gates of practice were never a single identical method. For brush talismans, this script and this closing language matched the ritual form exactly. They also asked that the two five-character drafts Min Yide had settled be preserved.

That fajia should revere a secretly transmitted liturgical text is only fitting; that Min Yide, having gained understanding, wished to share it with like-minded colleagues is likewise natural. Since he had already annotated the passage, points that remained unclear could be left in doubt; but knowledge that was already clear yet not explicitly corrected—what use would such knowledge be? For that reason the liturgy was finally established as the authoritative version for ji lian (memorial rites for the dead combined with refinement and elevation), with its closing scripture recorded separately at the end, and sentences such as those referring to the “lineage of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors” were no longer placed together at the close of the scripture. This note of textual investigation is offered for correction by those who are thoroughly versed in the classics.

The foregoing is the textual collation of the closing language in the ancient five-character version.

In the Su edition in five-character verse, the passage in the main text must be read on continuously with what precedes it, taking “Qi shou zhen gu nai” as one sentence—here qi means the primordial breath of Daoist teaching. That sentence was composed by the zongshi (patriarch of the lineage) as a continuation of the original text; the copied manuscript ends at this point. The four lines that follow were always present in the ancient five-character edition and appear at the end of the scripture together with seven other lines such as “Qi fang yuan de qiu” and “Qi shou zhen gu ling.” When reading this edition, I suspected the latter part was incomplete and questioned the fajia (Daoist practitioners who perform ritual and liturgy). They too said that these four lines originally existed but were passed down only from master to disciple by word of mouth and were not committed to writing—a account matching the appendix in the ancient edition I possess. I have therefore supplied and revised them to bring the scripture’s meaning to a close.

According to the four-character-per-line recitation method, this method was transmitted from the Yuqing (Jade Clarity) Divine Mother—a figure of the Yuqing realm—and its source is very ancient. In the Jin dynasty, Xu Xun, magistrate of Jingyang County, received it from the Mother Chen (the immortal mother who passed the teaching to Xu Xun); thereby he ascended in flight and was recognized as Grand Master of Remonstrance. For a long time it remained a pillow-secret text among people of the Xuanmen (the Daoist tradition). I obtained this method from Taixu Weng (the Master of Grand Emptiness), who said: “Read it until it is familiar, and understanding will come of itself.” I kept to it for more than thirty years; in a dazed way I seemed to grasp something, and when I examined it further, understanding suddenly opened fully, and I annotated it according to what I saw. I dare not say this is the correct interpretation; I only wish to append it at the end of the kind of views wise people and humane people hold.

Luo san lan bo, dai qia tai li

These two lines trace and reveal the subtle realm at the opening of Longhan (the primordial cosmic era in Daoist cosmology). Luo means spread out, laid open; the character luo paired with “wan” (to play with, to contemplate) is used chiefly to point to the tip of the jade [script].

Luo san lan bo, dai qia tai li

These two lines look back to the subtle realm at the beginning of Longhan. Luo is the manner of spreading and covering. Adding “wan” to luo is meant to mark the true script of Yuqing Yuanshi (the Primordial Lord of the Jade Clarity realm) and the meaning of the hidden names and taboo designations of the heavens. This scripture is also called the Taixuan Jade Scripture (Taixuan yujing); it has ninety-six characters in all, and in the original every character was marked with “wan.” Now, for brevity, “wan” is added only on the first character, to preserve the ancient form. San refers to the Three Realms. Lan is the color of heaven. Bo is the pattern of water. The meaning is: what embraces the Three Realms is only water and heaven. Dai means to reach, to extend to. Qia means to congeal, to coalesce. Tai is simply “platform” or “terrace.” Li means to cling, to adhere, and also emptiness. What is said is: when, reaching the point where turbid yin congeals downward, something high and level like a terrace clings and shows through on the surface of true water—that is earth. Such a vision does not appear until one reaches xuji jingdu (the mind utterly empty and profoundly still).

These two lines set out the rules for beginning inward circulation. “Hall” (tang) means the Hall of Operation—that is, the Heavenly Eye (the point between the eyebrows where attention rests in inner gazing). “Turn” (yun) is rotation and circulation, carried out as when one polishes a mirror. “Push” (tui) means to remove and clear away. When cloud-like qi is dispelled, the hall becomes bright as the moon; the method is to close the eyes and circulate one’s inner gaze, and mist and clouds will naturally scatter. “Enter” (ru) means to turn inward: from the Heavenly Eye the gaze is carried within—this is the first stage of inner contemplation (neiguan). “Continuous” (lian) means without break; “vast” (guang) means lofty and wide. “Spirit” (ling) refers to the Lingtai (Platform of Spirit, where mind and spirit abide); “capital” (du) is like a royal city, pointing to the Three Dantian and Nine Palaces (the upper, middle, and lower energy centers and the nine inner palaces). Another reading takes the opening “hall” as “adding intention” (jiayi), from the saying that adding earth (tu) forms the character for “hall” (tang)—intention belongs to the phase Earth, so to add intention is to add earth. In this inner gazing, one must first concentrate the qi until it is soft, drop all worldly entanglements, and let a single point of numinous clarity stand alone; then one lightly raises the true intent and applies the secret method of circulation above—only then do the visionary signs appear. Yet one must not cling to those signs; the mind must also keep to emptiness. Emptiness is the root substance of the Dao; to fix on what appears as “being” and forget emptiness is invariably to be caught with no escape—hence the warning.

Yuluo—that remote, densely ordered realm in the heavens—lies immeasurably far; what it nurtures does not, in the end, slip away into separation and loss.

"Yu" means flourishing abundance; "luo" means vast without limit; "shu" means distinct from one another; "miao" means distant and hard to fathom. This describes broad mountains and rivers, splendid palaces, many people, diverse customs, and differing temperaments—places too far for boats to reach and for thought to penetrate. It is used to portray what is within a person, just as one portrays what is without. If one cannot settle oneself, inner obstructions (neizhang—the inner veiling and hindrances) arise at once. The method is only to embrace them with emptiness and stillness (xujing), to illuminate them with numinous clarity (lingming), so that they are neither excessive nor deficient; only then is one roughly in order.

The method has four aspects: yu, fu, chao, and san. What is yu? Nurturing and guiding transformation. What is fu? Brushing away and putting in order. What is chao? Giving feathers and wings to help it ascend. What is san? Opening and releasing it. Yet one must let the person know for themselves how to rest in their proper place, know for themselves how to remove obstructions, know for themselves how to be diligent, know for themselves how to awaken—only then is there no harm. These methods broadly begin with regulating the heart-mind (xin); when the heart-mind is harmonized, qi (vital energy within the body) naturally flows in harmony.

"Zhao sheng tian heng, zhi shi ming qian"—these two lines teach one this: if one can treat carefully the first stirrings of signs and portents, the boundary between human and beast can be decided; if one can trace back to the beginning, the paths of light and darkness can be opened through. Zhao is omen or sign; sheng is the arising of a thought. The way of Heaven and Earth is nothing but one vertical and one horizontal; when a thought moves, it comes down to whether one is human or beast. Humans stand upright with head toward Heaven; beasts carry sun and moon on their backs and crawl horizontally—hence "tian heng" (Heaven's horizontal). When a sign arises, there must be a beginning of stagnation; wherever stagnation holds, no bright light enters—hence "ming" (darkness). Qian means to shift and leave, and carries the sense of repenting and turning toward the good.

"Ting pan bao ji, you xuan wo cheng"—ting is the inner court, pan is contemplation, bao is holding within, ji is oneself; you is planning, xuan is the subtle and mysterious, wo is grasping, cheng is the fitting measure. That is: within the inner court, contemplate and guard oneself; plan according to the mysterious way, and grasp the even, unbiased measure.

These two lines teach that one should take constant mindful attention and responsive awareness as the foundation, and must not be negligent in sustaining one’s cultivation practice. “Ting” (court) refers to the tiāntíng (the forehead, regarded in Daoism as a place where spirit and qi gather). “Pan” means to look—to turn the gaze inward and keep watch. “Bao” means to hold fast and protect firmly. One’s own nature (ji) is prone to shift, so one reading takes the character as suggesting “gai” (change). “You” means what is good and right. “Xuan” is the mysterious utmost point. “Wo” is to grasp and hold. “Cheng” is to weigh and balance. The commentary says: the upper line carries the idea of trying to draw upon tiāngāng (the qi associated with the handle of the Big Dipper) to stabilize and protect wùjǐ (central earth; in internal alchemy often the true intent or “middle earth”); the lower line carries the idea of weighing what is heavy and light so that this xuan (mysterious) work may be brought to completion.

“Sha fu yan ming, gui hui he zi.”

These two lines read like hanging out a picture of great peace and order. “Sha” means many or numerous. “Fu” is Heaven-bestowed blessing: one may receive and enjoy it, but must not speculate or talk about it recklessly. “Yan” is a pervasive, mist-like qi. “Ming” is brightness without night. “Gui” takes the sense of evergreen endurance. “Hui” refers to sānhuá jùdǐng (essence, qi, and spirit gathering at the crown) and wǔqì cháoyuán (the qi of the five viscera returning to their original source). “He” is the subtle efficacy of metal and wood joining, water and fire achieving mutual completion (shuǐhuǒ jìjì), and qián and kūn blending as one. “Zi” is unceasing generation—like pine and cypress in full vigor, with posterity none failing to inherit.

“Cun le xian le, bai fen tian hou.”

These two lines follow directly from what precedes and teach self-examination. This is what the Ganying Pian (Yingshen Pian, Taishang Ganying Pian) says: to cultivate toward becoming a celestial immortal, one should accumulate thirteen hundred good deeds; to cultivate toward becoming an earthly immortal, three hundred good deeds. “Cun” is to preserve emptiness and hold fast to what is real. “Le” is to delight in doing good and to take joy in giving. “Xian” is to value virtue and treat appearance lightly—“to esteem the worthy and change one’s attitude toward beauty” (xián xián yì sè). “Bai” is the number of fullness and completion. “Le” (restraint) is like reining in a horse at the water’s edge and stopping in time; taken together, whether rich and honored one does not indulge, whether poor and lowly one does not change one’s purpose, whether facing force one does not submit—in every case one must be able to restrain oneself. “Fen” is to rouse and exert oneself. So-called “bai fen” is nothing other than taking Heaven and Earth as one’s model. “Tian” is the Way of Heaven. “Hou” is the Way of Earth—Heaven and Earth level and correct, each attaining its fulfillment. The commentary notes: in the Yishi Xuanke, “hou” is written as “gou”; judged by the basic meaning, the intent is even more profound and may be kept for reference.

“Tu cheng yuan ping, mi jie zhang sheng.”

These eight characters are not explained phrase by phrase in the commentary. On the surface they say: earth is formed into a level, upright enclosing wall; it spreads and condenses, becomes clear and manifest, and gives birth.

These two lines continue directly from the previous sentence and explain the method of defense.

“Tu cheng” (tu cheng) means that the mind has no stray thoughts and the intention is free of impure qi. “Tu” refers to yi tu—the “soil of intention” in neidan, where mind and intent are likened to cultivated earth—and “cheng” means leveled and complete: that inner soil is even, upright, and stable. “Yuan ping” (yuan ping) is nipping trouble in the bud. “Yuan” is a rampart wall built of earth and stone; “ping” here means level ground—flat, settled terrain. “Mi jie” (mi jie) is thorough guarding and tight blocking: “mi” is meticulous, “jie” is firm. “Zhang sheng” (zhang sheng) indicates that one is already prepared. Another reading holds that in antiquity both “zhang” in the sense of “manifest” and “zhang” in the sense of “barrier” could be written with the same character; here it should be understood as “barrier.” The old text indeed has “zhang,” and this reading fits well. On this view, the word further explains “yuan”: it is like raising a barrier to protect “sheng.” “Sheng” means the arising of jing, qi, and shen. The overall point is to guard the guan qiao—the critical orifices in practice—called inner protection, hence the name “yuan” (rampart). It also implies inwardly: when thoughts do not arise, external demons (wai mo—outside disruptive forces) naturally die away.

“Zhang jie lu miao, Lai Meng long deng.”

These two lines describe how to lay a lasting foundation, with an effect of half the effort for double the result. The secret is planting camphor trees (zhang shu) for protection. Here “zhang” should be read as “camphor” (zhang), so that both land and distant waters are fully enclosed and firmly bound. The mountains Lai, Meng, and Long are included within that enclosure, so ascent can be made without danger. Camphor is cold-hardy and long-lived; it suits high and low ground alike. Within a few years after planting, ramparts and towns form naturally—hence the great return for little labor and freedom from collapse and decay. People in the western regions still follow this ancient method in places. It is a metaphor for using sheng qi (the qi that sustains life) to guard every orifice.

“The eight characters ‘Ning xie quan xin, Di ni tuo lai’” are also hidden language and must not be read literally as fierce beasts, tools, or ghosts and spirits.

These two lines follow directly from the earlier word for “ascending” yet open another layer of meaning. It is as if to say: when one has reached the top of a hundred-foot pole, one must still take one step further; the most perilous place is Pingdu (Pingdu Mountain, that is, Fengdu—the “dark capital” or ghostly realm in Daoist lore), the very moment when the void is shattered to pieces and the state of emptiness itself is broken through. Once this is understood, one can act effectively everywhere—why worry about Ningxie, why worry about Tuoyin? In the end it all comes down to a single word: xin (faith, sincere trust). Speaking of “quan” (the ritual pillar) and speaking of “Di Zhi” (the Lord and the title Zhi) is to set forth the method of cultivation. Without clear, genuine xin, how would the spirits observe and respond? Hence “Ningxie quan xin.” Immediately after, “Di Zhi Tuoyin” makes plain that this xin is already present. The power of xin is truly great.

Ning and xie are names of two beasts. They can tell the worthy from the deluded; their nature is fierce, and they are adept at tearing and biting—so Confucians use them as images for outspoken remonstrating officials. Quan is the name of a ritual “law pillar”; there are five such pillars in all—this is one of them—erected to smelt and refine human dispositions and natures. Xin means clear, sincere trust. Di is the High Lord (Shangdi). Zhi is one of the Lord’s titles, used in the context of Ziwei (the Purple Forbidden Enclosure where the Heavenly Thearch dwells). Tuoyin are divine beasts of the dragon kind; the High Lord employs them to guard hidden treasures: Tuo oversees what enters, Yin oversees what leaves—each is employed according to its inborn nature, and thus each can hold to its duty. Who commands them? It is xin—that is, the true seed, the master within (in inner cultivation, the person’s authentic heart and ruling awareness).

Namomo (namo)—here also naming a type of divine beast of the dragon kind, which the High Lord uses to guard treasures: Tuo handles entry, Yin handles exit; each takes office by its native character and therefore keeps its post. What can employ them is likewise xin—the true seed, the master within. “Namomo jue fa, cheng jin you yan”: namomo means reverent salutation and taking refuge—saluting this method (fa), crossing the ford (jin), and extending into the hidden, secluded realm (you).

These two lines summarize the meaning of the entire scripture. They are like saying: this is the sacred canon and teaching handed down from generation to generation by sages, preserved to guide those who come after; by this dharma vehicle (fa cheng), no ford cannot be crossed, no darkness cannot be illuminated, no distance cannot be reached, and no what is stale cannot be made new. Hence it is called “Nang Mo Jue Fa” (the jade-law vehicle of former teachings), and also “Cheng Jin You Yan” (the vehicle that ferries across at fords, extending through the obscure and remote).

Nang means former times; mo means canon, instruction, and mandate; jue is the name of fine jade; fa is dharma or principle; cheng is the dharma vehicle—the vehicle of the teaching. Cheng has many names, such as the Great Vehicle, Lesser Vehicle, Middle Vehicle, and Supreme Vehicle (these terms originally distinguished the depth of teaching and the beings to be liberated). All of them are means by which people rely on practice and use them as a bridge to cross over. Here the name is “Jue Fa Cheng” (the jade-law vehicle). The function of the cheng is indeed vast.

Jin is a thoroughfare or ferry—crossroads and fords. You is gloom, winding paths, and depths. Yan is long duration and far reach—extending and connecting without decay. This means that this scripture is the constant Dao (chang Dao) that does not change through the ten thousand ages.

It is also noted that “Nang Mo” is written as “Namo” (a term of reverence and homage) in the Yishi Xuan Ke; the meaning is even more profound and may be kept in mind for further study.

“Sun, moon, and stars—the radiance that rests and gives life to Qi”: the sun, moon, and stars shed their light; the Qi of life and nature (ming and xing) thereby settles and arises. (Qi is vital breath; in Daoism it often denotes pre-heaven Qi.)

These three lines are the patriarch’s explanation of why the sages of old transmitted the Jade Scripture (a supreme classic) and had people uphold it—words meant to encourage later students. Fang means to fortify and to practice shendu (to remain vigilant in moral conduct even when alone). Yuan is the primordial good—the mind’s original condition. De is the virtue within the heart: genuine moral character truly realized inwardly. Qiu is the taboo personal name of Confucius, the supreme sage and first teacher. Shou means imperishable; zhen, undefeated; gu, unbroken. Ling is the taboo name of Taiyi Tianzun (a supreme deity in Daoism).

“Long-lived as heaven and earth” means that heaven and earth do not decay, and the Dao does not decay. Buddhist scriptures do not interpret it in this way. That heaven stays constantly clear and earth constantly tranquil still depends on this qi (vital energy) for enduring existence—it is not that heaven and earth subsist by themselves. That is the power of this scripture. The one who can grasp its meaning and thereby preserve heaven and earth is Vairocana Tathāgata (the Dharma-body Buddha in Buddhism); hence the phrase “long-lived as heaven and earth—jing.” Jing is the taboo name of Vairocana Tathāgata. The sense is: whoever receives this scripture and through it makes heaven and earth long-lasting is Vairocana Tathāgata. Understand that he is “nature” (xing) itself—not some individual person in the mundane world. Because Buddhism exalts nature, he is honored as the Tathāgata Buddha. The foregoing is a general encomium to this scripture’s immense power.

The patriarch’s appended text ends here. What follows is the practitioner’s zhuci (prayers and vows recited to the gods) and must not be treated as scripture.

“Your subject now upholds and recites [this scripture]; may [the blessings sought] be thus…”: the disciple presently holds and chants it, praying only for what is vowed. Chen (“your subject”) is the ritual petitioner’s humble self-designation before the divine.

These two lines are invocatory prayers recited by practitioners. Each person’s prayer differs, and each wish is not the same, so the scripture only says “and so forth” (yun yun). According to the Qinglü and Chiwen, all upward memorials, deliveries, summary memorials, formal submissions, and every kind of invocatory text must be drawn from the classics; what is improvised on one’s own is penalized under the precepts. Therefore this passage of prayer is best made from ready-made phrases. On close examination of this scripture’s prayers, only the Yishi Xuanke composed by Niwan Patriarch Li (Niwan refers to the Niwan Palace in the head) can follow directly after the three lines above. My late master Master Taixu said the three lines above come from Patriarch Lü; below those three lines, later students who aspire to carry on the sage’s Way must uphold and empower the text composed by my master Niwan Patriarch Li and continued by my master. Students should strive to practice this.

Three-character archaic text of the Great Grotto Jade Chapter Scripture

“Luo san lan”: Luo means to spread out and array; san means the three realms; lan means color, describing a scene when hues are clear blue. This is the appearance when Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate) has not yet divided. The form with the character gan beside it was added in subjugation liturgy (rite for subduing malign forces), hence that writing.

“Bo dai qia”: Bo is the ripples of water; dai is to arrive; qia is to meet and coalesce. This is the appearance when Taiji is about to divide.

“Tai li tang”: Tai symbolizes the earth floating up; li is to adhere; tang is the Bright Hall, a metaphor for true essential intent (zhenyi), and also an alias for “Yuntang” in the human body.

“Yun tui ru”: Yun is surging and rubbing; tui is to push and send outward; ru is to turn and send inward.

“Lian guang ling”: Lian is to connect and penetrate; guang is vast openness and greatness, that is, the spacious dwelling (guang ju); ling is the Spirit Platform (lingtai). Here the imagery is within the human body. “Du yu luo” is still beauty, lushness, and all-pervading spread.

“Shu miao”: Miao is distant. Kuang and da mean the spacious dwelling; ling is the Spirit Platform—still the imagery within the human body. “Du yu luo” is still beauty, lushness, and all-pervading spread.

“Shu Miao Yu” (Special, Vast, and Nurturing): Shu means singular, remote, or set apart; miao means deep, far-reaching, or open and empty; yu means to bring forth and to nurture.

“Fu Chao San” (Not Rising, Not Scattering): Fu means to restrain or remove; chao means to surge upward; san means to open out or disperse. This describes the balance one should keep when harmonizing spirit-mind (shen) and breath (qi).

“Zhao Sheng Yao” (Omen, Growth, and Early End): Zhao is an omen, the hinge by which things begin to grow, and can also mean the heart as ruler naming itself. Sheng is growth; yao is what cannot last—cutting off before its time.

“Heng Zhi Dai” (Crosswise Blockage and Danger): Heng is obstruction and going against the flow; zhi is sticking and stagnation; dai is peril. This refers to the trials met on the path of cultivation.

“Ming Qian Ting” (Dark Depth, Ascent, and Inner Courts): Ming points to the deep northern Xuanque (Mysterious Pass)—the crucial xuanguan (pass of mystery). Qian is movement that rises; ting is the heavenly court: nirwan (mud-pill palace at the crown), jiangong (crimson palace at the heart), and huangting (yellow court)—the inner “palaces” of practice. The sense is rising from the hidden depth to reach these inner landscapes.

“Pan Bao Ji” (Gazing, Holding Firm, and the Self): Pan is the eye observing things; bao is to guard, make solid, and stabilize; ji is to change, and also the stirring of intention (yi). It teaches that the shift from ordinary to sage follows knowable principles.

“You Xuan Wo” (Good Counsel, Utmost Mystery, and Canopy): You is goodness; xuan is the utmost; wo is curtains and canopy—a image for protective nurturing. One is taught to guard good intent and true qi (innate pre-heaven vital energy in the body).

“Cheng Sha Fu” (Matching, Multitude, and Blessing): Cheng is to match or be worthy; sha is many; fu is blessing from heaven, also the blessed land or immortal realm. This is the fruit of that guarding and nurturing.

“Yan Ming Gui” (Mist, Brightness, and Cassia): Yan is dense, swirling qi; ming is a sky without endless night; gui (cassia) suggests evergreen, never withering.

“Hui He Zi” (Gathering, Harmony, and the Child): Hui is the three flowers gathering at the crown (san hua ju ding—essence, qi, and spirit meeting at the top); he is like lead and follow in harmony; zi is unceasing generation. In inner work, yin-yang harmony often describes this union and new birth.

“Cun Yue Xian” (Preserving, Delight, and the Worthy): Cun is cun wu shou you—resting in emptiness yet not abandoning what is real; yue is joy in nurturing and transforming.

Cun le xian: Cun means to hold to emptiness while not losing what is real—to guard stillness and clarity without abandoning concrete presence. Le means to take joy in nurturing worthy talent. Xian follows the sense of “value the worthy and ease off fixation on surface appeal”: esteem de (virtue) and treat outward show as secondary.

Le bai fen: Le is restraint, not letting oneself run loose. Bai points to the gate in practice when one has climbed as far as the proverbial top of a hundred-foot pole—going higher from there. Fen is bold, tireless advance.

Tian hou tu: Tian is the way of Heaven, hou the way of Earth, tu the way of humanity. The line continues from fen above.

Cheng yuan ping: Cheng is to arrive at evenness and peace. Yuan suggests a rampart or wall that keeps outer trouble at bay. Ping is untroubled calm. The image is that when one’s work reaches Tai Ding (great settling) and shen (spirit) rests in zu qiao—in internal alchemy, the root of xing (nature) and ming (life)—there is a depth of effect that cannot be measured from outside.

Mi jie zhang: Mi is thoroughness, jie solidity, zhang what shows forth of itself without forced contrivance. This line likewise follows from yuan.

Sheng zhang jie: Sheng is self-arising growth. Zhang is the evergreen camphor tree; in old custom, planting camphor sheltered communities, and places were called “camphor cities.” Some regions in the Western Territories still used that approach, as noted in works on those lands. Jie here is to bind or stake camphor in place, using living wood where one might otherwise pile earth and stone for protection.

Lu miao lan: Lu is dry ground, miao open water. Lan is a barrier that marks inside from outside, close in meaning to yuan; historically lan and the word for railing were written with related forms. Again the thread runs from yuan.

Meng long deng: Meng is the unformed mind of the beginner, long dense simplicity, deng enrollment or ascent into the record. The phrase names the sort of place where Heaven registers those it selects.

Ning xie quan: Ning and xie name fierce, greedy, violent beasts. Quan is a ritual pillar cast from fine gold, which the Lord on High employs to restrain and subdue them.

Xin di ni: Xin is read here as shen—to extend and lean upon. Di is the Lord on High and also the foundation; in the body it lies about one cun and three fen behind the navel, at the qi aperture, also called xuan guan yi qiao (the single pivotal opening in neidan). Ni (written with the ghost radical doubled) is a secret designation linked to Ziwei (Purple Tenuity), used in campaigns of judgment and subjugation; it is pronounced like “ni.”

“Heaven, Earth, and the Multitude”: Heaven is the secret designation of the Three Heavens; Earth, of the Three Earths; Multitude (zhong), of the Three Sovereigns. This too is praise verse, speaking of the precious hidden meaning of the Three Heavens, Three Earths, and Three Sovereigns. The text does not say “Heaven, Earth, and Humanity” in order to praise the Jade Scripture (Yujing). Another reading: it says “Heaven, Earth, and Multitude” rather than “Heaven, Earth, and Humanity” because another layer of function is implied—something ritual specialists (fashi, those who practice ritual techniques) hold in the highest regard.

“Xuan, Ruo, and Zhao” (xuan, ruo, zhao): Xuan is the taboo name of the sun; Ruo, of the moon; Zhao, of the Heavenly Gang (the handle of the Northern Dipper). These are called the secret taboo names of the Three Luminaries; ritual specialists cherish them—it is again praise verse.

“Extinguish evil essences” (mie xie jing): one phrase gathers all categories. The transmission here belongs to subjugation methods, so this line is added—likewise praise verse.

“Guard primordial virtue” (fang yuan de): Fang means guarding against the subtle before it grows; yuan is the head of all goodness; de is “obtaining”—the mind grasping the principle and holding it without loss. This states that cultivation does not go beyond this single essential teaching.

“Qiu, Ling, Jing” (qiu, ling, jing): Qiu is the taboo name of the utmost sage and first teacher (Confucius); Ling, of the Taiyi Celestial Worthy; Jing, of Vairocana Tathagata. It comes from the gatha (verse) method of the Heart School from Western Zhu (ancient India), added by the Venerable Bukong when performing the rite, as transmitted by the great being of Bo (Bo Yi lineage).

“Green jar domain” (lü weng yu): the Green Jar is a cave name in the territory of Dali Prefecture, Yunnan, in the region of Zizhao in Tang times. Yu means territory or realm. The matter appears in the Record of the Bai Kingdom (Baiguo zhi): this cave was originally inhabited by rakshas; later the great being subjugated them and settled the place.

“Another spring apart” (bie you chun): transmitted by the great being of Bo—it is the blessing verse used when the great being subjugated the rakshas.

“Om hum hum” (an hong hong): Om (an) is a word of praise; hum hum (hong hong) depicts the heart-light rushing upward.

“Hong hong da” is a phrase that guides beings to the other shore; it means drawing rakshasas (evil demons) into a cave.

“Suo po he” (svaha) is a command word carrying the sense of swiftly subduing.

Classic Scripture of the Great Cavern Jade Seal (Dadong Yuzhang Jing) — Five-Character Ancient Version

The Classic Scripture of the Great Cavern Jade Seal was orally transmitted by the Divine Mother of the Jade Clarity Realm (Yuqing Shenmu Yuanjun), the highest female immortal of the Jade Clarity (Yuqing) realm, to the Primordial King of the Law (Yuanshi Fawang). It gathers the secret names and titles of all heavens and is a supreme treasure of Daoism. Its line breaks and recitation methods differ: three-character, four-character, five-character, and seven-character forms each have their uses. This ritual line was transmitted by a famous figure named Tai in the Spring and Autumn period. Tai was from the state of Lu; Zhuangzi records that his followers rivaled those of Confucius, so that he and Confucius nearly divided Lu between them. The world did not accept him; he suffered foot amputation as punishment and therefore styled himself King Yuan (Wang Yuan). The account appears in the Song edition of the Taiji Sacrificial Refinement Esoteric Ritual (Taiji Jilian Xuan Ke). This ritual line was personally compiled by Perfected Man Lin Lingsu (Lin Lingsu, a Northern Song Daoist priest), who called Tai “Master of Lu” and said he was a spirit split off from the Green Youth Lord (Qingtong Jun, an eastern immortal), who descended to deliver those who had been punished and left undelivered; after death he became commander-in-chief under the Great Compassionate Lord of Supreme Oneness (Taiyi Cizun, the Taiyi Lord who saves suffering souls). He transmitted the five-character Supreme Oneness Esoteric Scripture (Taiyi Xuanjing), instructing ritual masters to circulate the scripture daily at the Celestial Eye (Tianmu—the brow, used in visualization). After long visualization and circulation, a compassionate light appears on the body; when one sits in refinement and releases this light, it guides suffering souls and spirits—no hell realm remains unbroken. A priest who holds the practice for long makes the body equivalent to the Primordial Law Body (Yuanshi Fatì) and merges without duality with the Law King without beginning, ascending to the rank of celestial minister in the Great Luo Heaven (Daluo Tian—the highest heaven). Success is assured in every case. Even at the lowest level, one can deliver nine generations of ancestors (jiu xuan) and oneself attain true official rank; after death one may achieve corpse liberation and ascent on the Way (shijie shangdao—a superior method of liberation through the discarded husk). This is the natural true writing of heaven and earth: a single character holds measureless subtle efficacy and measureless divine power—how much more when they are gathered and chanted. Once this chapter is held, sound goes out and the law follows; myriad spirits obey. It is the root ancestor of all scriptures and the Yuanshi (origin) of all methods. The text has no fixed form: five-character, three-character, seven-character, and four-character versions. Esoteric lines built from single characters interweave, invert, and converge with countless uses and endless mysteries. For subjugation rites one may add cloud heads, ghost feet, “gan,” “wan,” and other such devices (all ways of adding strokes to talisman characters). To perform subjugation, add a cloud head and wrap with “gan,” or use ghost forms in embrace covered by clouds, or follow “cloud wan,” or follow “cloud”—any of these may apply; the seal title of the presiding master (yashi—the one who signs and leads the method) also varies accordingly. Once mixed incorrectly, efficacy is lost. Transmission must be oral; it must not be spread rashly. In this ritual line the presiding master is Wang Tai and the commander-in-chief is Wang Yuan; master and commander are originally one spirit, differing only in the sequence of qi, hence one divides into two. With secret methods, wrap from the cloud head with “yuan,” or add a “wang” character on the left—both are extremely efficacious. This is truly the supreme treasure of the Mysterious Gate and the pearl that never darkens among esoteric ritual lines (buye zhu—a pearl that shines even at night, metaphor for a rare thing), transmitted once in eighty thousand kalpas. The same account is given in detail in the sacrificial refinement line of Patriarch Sa (Sa Shoujian).

“Spreading the three realms, blue waves reach, blending platform and hall in motion”

“Spreading” means to lay out and pervade. “Three” refers to the three realms; “spreading the three” is to lay out the three realms. “Blue” is the color of living Qi (vital breath of life), standing for Heaven. “Waves” are the ripples on water’s surface, standing for Water. “Reach” means to arrive and extend to. “Blending” is the manner of mingling and joining, describing water and Heaven as one. “Platform” is a terrace pavilion. “Attach” means to cling. “Hall” is the bright hall (mingtang); here it takes the sense of “adding Earth”: Earth placed upon water shows through the surface like a terrace pavilion clinging in empty space—this is Earth. “Motion” is turning and revolving.

With the wisdom eye that sees what is real, one glance shows the three realms are like bubbles and shadows, and in a moment they return to emptiness. What appears as form through responsive transformation is still illusion. So this is used as a sharp blow to oneself: do not cling to form and appearance (visible phenomena). Whatever has form must in the end decay. This is precisely to rouse the lingering po and wandering hun (soul aspects that stick and cling), so they are no longer dragged by karmic residue (karma accumulated in past lives), and at once give rise to the mind of liberation—then one can soar and ascend into the clear realm.

“Push aside and enter the lotus, vast spirit; all lush and spread, uniquely remote”

“Push” is to remove stray thoughts; “enter” is to enter the true realm. Only when stray thoughts are removed can one enter the empty, clear, bright realm. This is the work of refining the self (cultivating and purifying oneself)—both the path of saving oneself and the path of saving ghosts. The Great Dao teaches people: first remove thoughts and worries. “Lotus” is the lotus throne, meaning the heart. “Vast” is vast dwelling, like the great metropolis of the world. “All” is beauty, “lush” is flourishing, “spread” is to lay out, “unique” is extraordinary, “remote” (pronounced mù) is quiet and at ease. The meaning is: within this true realm, inside the spirit mansion (where the spirit-mind dwells), there is another heaven and earth.

“Nurture without surpassing, scattered signs; birth, early death, violent death, and lingering begin”

“Nurture” is to foster; “not” is negation; “surpass” is to go beyond; “scatter” is to disperse; “sign” is omen. “Birth” is being born; “early death” is dying young; “violent” is sudden or violent death; “linger” is to remain without dispersing; “begin” is the start. Literally: if nurturing cannot transcend, and omens scatter in confusion, then after birth come early death, violent death, and lingering—and these begin from there.

“Yu” means settling in place and nurturing transformation; “fu” means brushing away and clearing; “chao” means uplifting and extricating (rescuing spirits trapped in darkness); “san” means liberation; “zhao” means the multitude of beings—that is, all sentient beings. The passage means that within the true realm impure scenes still appear at times because the presiding agent, in generating the multitude, fails in its proper role and does not know how to nurture in place, clear away, uplift, and liberate so that beings may be settled. This is an analogy for the work of regulating qi and harmonizing the mind-spirit. Failure to grasp this leads to the harms described below.

“Sheng” carries two senses: receiving life (being born into existence) and granting life (bestowing life on others). “Yao” is premature death; “heng” is death without a natural or peaceful end; “zhi” is lingering in jiuyou (the dark underworld); “shi” is the beginning—the very first moment before anything has started—referring to the time when one receives heaven’s mandate and goes forth to be reborn, when ominous signs are already present. This follows the earlier terms “yu” and “zhao,” spelling out each harm in turn. The presiding agent cannot evade blame, for the power to grant life rests in their hands.

This is a warning to those who practice zuolian (seated cultivation, still sitting and circulating shenguang, spiritual light): in cultivation, when not a single thought stirs, the light of xing (nature) becomes complete; in performing jilian (ritual offering and salvific refinement), when release is thorough, karmic residue from past lives is purified. Those born in response may all become true seed-beings; when the bonds of this life are spent, they may together attain the fruit of the Dao. The ling and qi (spiritual endowment and primordial breath) that humans receive at birth all derive from the cultivator in seated practice—therefore refinement must be complete and ritual release must be thorough. That is the cultivator’s function. Success or failure is judged here; merit and fault both hinge on this.

“Ming qian ting pan bao, yi you xuan wo cheng”: ming is darkness—the jiuyou realm; qian is being drawn out and transferred from it; ting is the heavenly court, whose radiance is the cultivator’s efficacy. Whether the work is accomplished is decided at this point as well; merit and fault lie precisely here.

Darkness (ming) means obscurity, referring to the Nine Nether Realities—the layered, shadowy realms of the underworld. Qian means to shift and break free, to emerge from within. Ting is the Heavenly Court, the realm of light. Pan is a loving, watchful gaze. Bao is to uphold and protect by dharma, like bamboo wrapped in its sheath yet never severed from the plant itself. Ji is the self as a single person—the pivot of the heart, hidden within the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin), the Daoist gate of generation and transformation; Buddhism calls this the “sound of the world,” Daoism calls it a thought or impulse, and Confucianism calls it the substance of the heart; from here voice and intention arise. You is goodness: every word and deed is good. Xuan is the subtle and unfathomable—without end, without fixed place or form—the utmost of goodness. Wo is a spread canopy that shields against wind and dust, belonging to the class of tent curtains; it stands for thorough protection. Cheng means fitting and balanced, free from excess or deficiency.

This passage means: the lineage master who sits in refinement breaks through darkness and turns toward light, gazes upon those to be saved with compassion, upholds them with the dharma, straightens their thoughts, and teaches them to speak and act with goodness, so they may ascend and enter the utmost subtlety; then, like a canopy of shelter, he covers them so they are not touched by the dust of the world. All of this is to temper and fuse their nature and mind until they are firm and solid, each receiving an even, balanced share—neither too much nor too little. Only then is it truly called offering (ji), truly called refinement (lian); only then can it be called “cheng”—fitting. Cheng means matching the even balance of their nature and disposition, after which the fruit of life is granted; then wherever they go, they accord with the Dao in every place. The ancients who sat in refinement and practiced in this way did exactly this. The opposite is empty show, a betrayal of the scripture’s meaning.

“Sha fu yan ming gui, hui he zi cun le”: Sha means many—the multitude of those to be saved. Fu is blessing and protection, and also names those who receive salvation. When refinement is carried out as above, spirits as numerous as grains of sand all undergo salvation and refinement; bright cassia gathers in harmony, and each keeps their joy in preservation.

“Sha” means “many” or “numerous,” and refers to those who receive the rite of refinement and ascension (shou du zhe). “Fu” means blessed protection and also points to those who receive the rite. If the officiant performs seated refinement as described above (the master sits in stillness and conducts the method, refining and transforming the departed), then spirits as countless as grains of sand all receive the master’s blessing. This follows the sense of “wo” (canopy) in the preceding line: the multitude of spirits are covered by granted blessings.

“Yan” is smoke or vapor; by nature it rises and does not sink downward, so it stands for the spirits’ ascending and attaining their fruit. “Ming” suggests the sun and moon in harmony—light that does not go dim. “Gui” is the cassia (osmanthus) tree, green in winter and summer alike, and so suggests not exhausting one’s original yuan (primordial vitality). The phrase means they keep a bright innate nature and long preserve their original goodness; hence “yan ming gui.” Cassia withstands cold and its flowers are fragrant; smoke is soft and reaches upward—so the line is also read as “gao” (high, lofty).

“Hui” is the manner of gathering together. “He” is read as “hu”—mutual response, no longer isolated. “Zi” links what comes before and after. “Cun” is to hold in mind without forgetting, to remember constantly. “Le” is joy one never wearies of. All of this refers to the spirits who receive refinement—the fruit of seated refinement.

“Xian le bai fen tian, hou tu cheng tan ping.” “Xian” is a name for great goodness; “le” means not letting slip or drain away. In continuity with what precedes, every ling shuang (soul-spirit) can be like smoke and never weary of joy—again the refined spirits, again the efficacy of seated refinement. The gist of the line: great goodness is held fast, striving upward toward Heaven, and thick earth becomes level and smooth.

“Xian” (worthy excellence) names the greatest goodness; “le” (restraint) means not scattering with the current but holding oneself in check. This continues the previous passage: when every kind of luminous refined spirit (lingming jingshuang) can rise like smoke and shine like sun and moon, one may be called xian. When one can endure cold like the cassia tree, dwell among others in mutual resonance, advance day by day and mature month by month, never straying from this point, and find inexhaustible joy in it, one may be said to be xian where xian is due and to le (restrain) where restraint is due.

A patriarch of seated refinement (zuolian) excels both at completing true nature and at reining in desire; yet the Great Dao does not stop there. What has been said above still belongs to the karmic fruit of the human and celestial realms and cannot yet be called the Great Dao, because discriminating consciousness (shishen—the mind that clings to distinctions) is still present. Seated refinement must not be taken as the ultimate, nor should one hasten to perform the work of ascending and sending (sheng song—raising the spirit upward). The secret still lies in the patriarch’s great compassion and the skill of returning to emptiness and shattering form (huanxu fensui—dissolving into the void and breaking attachment to bodily form)—what the text below calls “bai fen” (a hundred-fold exertion).

“Bai” (a hundred) is the number of fullness and also suggests going one step further when the pole is already a hundred feet high; “fen” (exertion) is vigorous advance—fearless, diligent progress.

“Tian” (Heaven) is the Way of Heaven: without end, without fixed direction or shape, thick and solemn, clear and still, pervading all things without omission; life and death follow it, movement and stillness are not two; neither “is” nor “is not” can confine it. As large as without outside, as small as without inside, its color deep azure, its function perfectly round. Immortals and buddhas alike obtain this substance—this is the ultimate, and this is Wuji (the Limitless).

Next best is to emulate the great earth: bearing Mount Hua without feeling weight, holding rivers and seas without leaking, carrying all things—hence the name “hou.” Hou means coming after this earth. Taking “behind” as virtue is called “hou” (after): hou is placing oneself behind, not daring to go ahead of all under heaven—the utmost of yielding. “Tu” (earth) may also be read as “ten plus one”: the small ten supporting the great one, yin received by yang—it spreads according to yang. The virtue of the human true intent (zhenyi—in internal cultivation, the earth-aligned, sincerity-holding thought) is exactly this; hence the sound of “tu” (earth) resonates with “du” (sincerity, blocking out falsity)—the meaning of trust and honesty.

“Cheng” (accomplishment) is pacification brought to completion. Whether one models Heaven or emulates Earth, nothing fails to be accomplished. Heaven here means celestial immortal (tianxian); Earth means earthly immortal (dixian). “Tan” (level openness) is selflessness; “ping” (evenness) is not displaying oneself—no self, no fixed thing.

Therefore xian, le, bai fen, tian, hou, tu, cheng, tan, ping—layer upon layer in this way—draws one near to the Dao, but the journey has not yet ended.

“Thorough, solid, manifest, and giving birth to camphor—solid on land, boundless waters, orchids receive grace.” Mi means thorough and meticulous; jie means firm and not hollow; zhang means outwardly revealed; sheng refers to shengqi (qi that arises in cultivation); zhang is the camphor tree, cold-hardy and long-lived. In the West, the tree used to shelter the multitude is the camphor of Zhang city. It grows easily and stays green through the seasons; whether high or low, on land or in marshy waters, planted anywhere it lives there and grows readily. The spread of the body’s zhenqi (true innate qi) is boundless, like a living camphor tree with no fear of withering. It infuses everywhere, as camphor seems to spring up everywhere; on dry ground or by water, one can rely on it to guard the “orchid,” nurture it, and receive the grace of De. Hence “thorough, solid, manifest camphor; solid on land, boundless waters, orchids enfolded in grace.” Lu is dry land and plains; miao is the shore and water-rich places. Lan is the flower of the noble person and the fragrance of kings—a figure for the zhongzi (the primal root-source in Neidan). Meng is the grace of virtue; the Yijing says: “To foster what is upright amid obscurity—this is the work of the sage.” This continues the foregoing and speaks of wondrous transformation. When seated cultivation reaches this point, one has the efficacy of fulfilling both worldly and transcendent aims as the mind intends.

“Hazy ascent, fierce xie, bamboo trap; trust the emperor, ni carried, lai.” Long is a hazy, undifferentiated state: it implies not forcing knowledge but naturally accord with heaven’s patterns, thickness pushed to the limit. Every kind of numinous clarity (lingshuang), through the smelting of lianxing (refining nature), is forged into one; there is neither self nor other.

“Misty” (long) describes the appearance of primordial chaos: not knowing and not cognizing, yielding to the laws of the Heavenly Emperor. When depth reaches its utmost, every kind of numinous clarity is refined and tempered in character until all merges into one—no self, no others; enemies and kin are treated alike, holding only a single expanse of solemn Primordial Qi (Yuanqi).

Only when seated cultivation reaches this stage may you use intention to send them upward to the nine heavens. What is utmost pure, utmost sincere, utmost empty, and utmost unified ascends and attains the realms of Heavenly Immortal (Tianxian), Earth Immortal (Dixian), and Spirit Immortal (Shenxian). Those of the next grade may also be born in the human world or in heaven, appearing as officials or as lay devotees, nurturing life after life and establishing merit everywhere; when that karmic body is exhausted, they ascend together to the Golden Gate. Still lower, they need not lose their original nature: desires lessen, affinity with the Dao grows, and the will to cultivate by gradual refinement arises; when that body is finished, they rise to the Mysterious Realm as aides and arms of the immortals. This is the general outline.

The above explains the character “ascend” (deng). To ascend means to rise, comprising three senses: sending upward, transcendent attainment, and judgment of destinies.

Even the lowest grade—whose nature resembles the fierce beast or the treasure-guarding spirit—can still be guided by the ritual pillar and commanded by the secret talismanic name, so that they have standing and use both in the celestial treasury and the human world. The subtle efficacy of seated refinement lies precisely here.

The fierce beast is a savage creature that hates greed and flattery and bites readily. The ritual pillar (quan) is a dharma column, also called a dharma banner (fazhang), which the Heavenly Emperor erects within the realms to transform those who are not sincere; there are five such pillars in all, and this is one of them. “Faith” (xin) means clear trustworthiness. “Emperor” (di) means root and foundation. The secret name (ni) is a hidden designation of the Purple Subtlety (Ziwei), used to suppress malign influences and settle the simple and honest. The treasure-guarding spirits are divine beasts, all of dragon kind, which the Heavenly Emperor employs to guard treasures: the bearer is loyal and governs receiving-in; the guardian is righteous and governs giving-out. These are metaphors for how human nature may be partial or obstructed yet, through smelting and refinement, can still become fine material. The function of ritual refinement extends this far.

“Homage to the Jade Vehicle of the Law, extending the sun and moon through the ford of the dark”: pay reverence to the Jade Vehicle of the Law (yu fa cheng) to ferry the dark yin realm and prolong sun and moon.

These two lines summarize the whole piece: everything indicated above consists of the fine, praiseworthy admonitions of antiquity, and also “jade-method vehicles” (jue fa cheng)—teachings by which one may transcend the mundane world. By relying on them to cross the ford, one enters what is deep, far-reaching, and long-lasting, like sun and moon; all of this belongs to the constant right Dao, not a one-sided doctrine.

“Nang” (nang) means former times—that is, antiquity. “Mo” (mo) means fine instruction or admonition. “Nang mo” (nang mo) refers to teachings handed down mouth to mouth by ancient sages, immortals, and buddhas. “Jue” (jue) is the name of a fine jade. “Fa” (fa) is method or norm. “Cheng” (cheng) originally means riding in a carriage and also covers boat and carriage—the idea of riding them over mountains and across seas; here it is metaphorical. Hence “upper vehicle,” “middle vehicle,” and “lower vehicle,” as well as Mahayana, Hinayana, and supreme vehicle—all use boat and carriage to stand for the rank of scripture and method. “Jue fa cheng” here has the same force: it praises the jade scripture as thorough and convenient, like a boat or carriage one can actually ride. So “nang mo jue fa cheng” (nang mo jue fa cheng) is language of the highest praise.

“Jin” (jin) is the crossing ford—the ferry at a three-way junction. “You” (you) means deep and remote. “Yan” (yan) means long and enduring. “Sun and moon” takes the sense of light that never goes dark, and applies it to this jue fa cheng: with sincerity one becomes clear, and clarity is sincerity—it carries both of these meanings. The commentary holds that nang mo should be read in the same spirit as “Namo” (homage to the Buddha): only when one reaches no-thought (wunian) is it truly subtle.

“Star” (xing) means stars in the sky; “Dipper” (dou) means the Northern Dipper. Heaven takes the Dipper as its heart; the human being takes the heart as the Dipper. In heaven there are eighty-four thousand star mansions; in the human body there are eighty-four thousand fine pores.

“Qi” (qi) is the prenatal single qi (xian tian yi qi) spoken of in Daoism.

Stars and constellations shine; resting breath guards life. Qi (vital energy) protects the mound of primordial De (virtue/power). Qi prolongs life in firm, numinous steadfastness; Qi prolongs life—the crystal clarity of heaven and earth.

The stars in the heavens are the luminaries of the celestial bodies; dou refers to the Dipper within the heart. Heaven takes the Northern Dipper as its heart, and humans take the heart as their Dipper. There are eighty-four thousand star lodges in the sky, and the human body likewise has eighty-four thousand fine orifices. Heaven and humanity seem separate, yet in truth they are two that are one.

Yao means to shine forth; xi means to be extinguished. Ming (life-destiny) is the mandate of Heaven, which every person receives. When the star-lights shine, life arises; when they go out, death follows—this authority rests in the Dipper, and so it truly is. Yet there are exceptions: only the zhenren (perfected person), one whose cultivation is supreme, can transcend this limit; only the utterly foolish hasten their own death. This is what is meant by saying that the junzi (noble person) can shape their own destiny, the xiaoren (petty person) loses their benming (original destiny), and the yongren (mediocre person) is trapped by fate.

Qi (in the alchemical sense—the refined vital breath) is what qi (ordinary breath-energy) transforms into; it is also shen (spirit). Where shen abides, life is; where shen departs, death comes—this Qi is human life. What moves through inhalation and exhalation, rising and falling, is postnatal qi; it is not enough to rely on that alone for immortality. Qi is the primordial treasure; it looks like qi yet is not the same. Ancients often blurred the two, saying only that Qi is what qi becomes, without grasping that Qi is commanded by shen. When Qi is vigorous, qi circulates and blood flows freely. It is like all being human yet there being emperors and commoners: when the ruler is sage-like, the people are at peace; when shen weakens, qi stagnates. Preserving shen is precisely preserving qi. The distinction between Qi and qi lies here. Qi has no awareness; Qi is keenly luminous. Qi is the substance of the heart; qi is the functioning of Qi. So one may say qi approximates Qi, but one must not say Qi is qi. The two differ in clarity and turbidity, nobility and baseness, priority and posteriority. Only by cultivating with qi and Qi distinguished can one become an immortal; mingling them without distinction and merely nurturing both together yields at best long life. Hence this further explanation—read again the Jade Scripture (yujing), and conviction deepens.

This single character Qi is the treasure jointly revered by the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism. Thus it is said: he who speaks of using Qi to guard yuande (original virtue) is Confucius; he who speaks of making Qi long-lived, upright, and firm is Taiyi (the Great One, a supreme deity in Daoism); he who speaks of using Qi to nourish heaven and earth is the Tathagata (Rulai). Tathagata here means xing (nature).

What is fang (guarding)? It is fangwei-dujian—guarding against the subtle before it spreads. Yuan is the head of all goodness. De is the heart’s attainment. Shou is making this Qi endure. Zhen is keeping this Qi upright and solid, and also carries the sense of protection. What is gu (firmness)? It is consolidating this Qi. Guard with Qi, and protection is complete; primal goodness is preserved and the heart’s de is fulfilled. When Qi is long-lived, the heart is long-lived; when Qi is firm, the heart-substance is solid and outer demons cannot enter. This is the text continued by patriarchs of the Confucian and Daoist gates. The next line is taken up by a Buddhist patriarch, who says: I, the Tathagata, further use this Qi to nourish heaven and earth, so that heaven and earth are pure and tranquil and my sentient beings are secure—therefore the Tathagata also receives the title “Vairocana Tathagata Buddha” (Piluzhena Rulai Fo—the Buddha of all-pervading light). The commentary treats all of this as praise of this scripture.

The scripture comprises ninety-six characters, ending at the character Qi. The commentary says these five-character lines were used by patriarchs to universally deliver the ling-shuang (spiritual essence) of the Three Teachings; to perform the xuan ke (profound rites) of salvation and refinement in Daoist liturgy, one must use this five-character ancient text.

Your subject now recites this scripture according to the teaching method to deliver and save the various souls awaiting salvation (ling shuang, spirits to be redeemed). He prays to rely on the power of the Jade Scripture to fulfill the vows he has made. These four lines are the invocation recited when departing or sitting in seated cultivation (jingzuo xiulian, quiet-sitting practice).

The ancient text of the Great Cave Jade Chapter Classic (Da Dong Yuzhang Jing) in the five-character Su recension is recorded exactly in this way.

The old text had only one hundred characters; it has now been collated to one hundred twenty characters, with the meaning explained in detail in the “Discrimination of the Text” (Bian Ben). The scripture itself has no fixed canonical wording. I previously obtained four versions—in four-character, three-character, five-character, and seven-character lines—each differing in wording. In the dingchou year I went to Suzhou and obtained this recension again from a ritual specialist’s house (fajia, practitioners of ritual and liturgy); the phrasing differs greatly. It is said to have originated earliest in Bashu and flourished under the lineage of Shi Tiezhu, where it showed notable efficacious responses. Therefore I note only the divergent characters; identical wording is passed over briefly. In the original, the character wan (play/study) was marked to the left of certain graphs; that marking is now changed to follow the Yuan-dynasty base text, and the sense is also set out in the “Discrimination of the Body of the Text” (Bianti).

“Luo can lan bo dai, qia tai li tang hui.” Can is read as chuan, referring to the three powers (sancai: Heaven, Earth, and humanity). This means that “luo” embraces the three powers, is complete with the three bonds (sangang), opens the three realms (san jing), and carries the meaning of the three luminaries (san guang: sun, moon, and stars). What stands out most clearly is the Blue Wave Platform (Lan Bo Tai). Tai means the Spirit Platform (Ling Tai), the place where the ruler dwells and finds rest; tang means the Bright Hall (Ming Tang), the site of audience; hui means assembly, the gathering of ministers and officials.

“Tui ru lian guang ling, du yu luo shu mai.” Mai means distant. This says that governance and teaching are complete and widely spread, flowing in abundance and luxuriant growth.

“Yu fu chao san zhao, sheng yao heng zhi dai.” One reading takes dai as the gathering of peril and crisis. Another takes dai as danger, continuing the word zhao (omen/sign), and speaks of the transformation of portents. What may be relied upon is that those above can cultivate “yu fu chao san” (nourishing without exceeding and dispersing), so that souls who died young, died violently, or remained stuck in peril and crisis may be reborn.

“Ming qian ting pan bao, yi you xuan wo kuai.” On the surface this says: in the dark netherworld one rises upward; in the court one awaits the gathering of the bud; plans are settled, and one rests at ease within the dark-colored canopy and curtains.

Ting refers to the court; wo means covering or shelter; kuai means satisfaction. The sense is that people must reform and turn toward goodness, coming before a clear and enlightened court. The court also shelters those who have turned toward good, like a canopy, and only then is the ruler’s heart at ease.

“Sha fu yan ming gui, hui he zi cun lai.” Lai means to rely on, continuing the sense of kuai above: this whole favorable turn of fortune depends on the ruler carrying it through from beginning to end.

“Xian le bai fen tian, hou tu cheng yuan bai.” Bai means destruction or ruin. One should guide the people by correct methods and protect and guard them. If one relies only on city walls for defense, ruin is inevitable.

“Mi gei zhang sheng zhang, jie lu miao lan xie.” Zhang and zhang (barrier) were written with the same character in antiquity, continuing from yuan (wall) above. The zhang beast is a divine creature that eats venomous snakes and also eats no meat; the ancients forbade hunting it and kept it to guard mountain dwellers—one aspect of humane rule. Lan and lan (railing) are the same word, continuing from zhang. Xie means that with such humane rule, it already serves as railing, barrier, and wall; one hardly needs fences anymore, hence xie—it is not a worry.

“Long deng ning xie quan, xin di ni tuo ai.” Quan means completing the ruler’s virtue; ai means obstructing the ruler’s virtuous governance. When the court has upright ministers, flatterers and the corrupt are removed and the ruler can be sage. If one only hoards wealth and does not relieve the people, that obstructs virtuous governance.

“Nang mo yu fa cheng, jin you yan ri zai.” Nang is the past, mo is planning, cheng is following precious norms; jin you is a deep ford, yan ri zai is that time continues and the day is still prolonged.

“Day” refers to the Wisdom Sun (Huiri)—a mind that shines like the sun; “presence” (zai) means self-sovereignty, existing from antiquity to the present without vanishing. This passage sums up the scripture: the methods are all recorded in the Jade Classic (Yujing), but their real application lies in the heart. It is like walking a road—there is no fixed route to look up and follow, and side paths appear along the way; without guidance, the way ahead is dark and blocked, stretching on endlessly, so one cannot go deep. Therefore the Wisdom Sun cannot be separated from where it abides.

The Wisdom Sun is originally complete in every person, fully accomplished in each— even in moments of upheaval it does not leave. It is not obtained from outside; from ancient times to now it has always been luminous. In heaven it is called the sun; in a person it is called the heart-mind. There is no inner-outer split and no you-me division. When something touches you, it reflects; when there are no thoughts it still silently abides—this is called the Wisdom Sun. Precisely because it does not come from outside and cannot be lost even briefly, it is called “presence.” If those in high position can themselves clarify this Wisdom Sun, the state can be well governed.

“Stars” metaphorically stand for ministers and the people; the “Dipper” (Dou) stands for the pole star and metaphorically for the ruler; “command” (ming) is an edict—the ruler’s order; “Qi” (xinqi, heart-Qi) also metaphorically stands for the ruler; “receive” means to accept in submission; “true” (zhen) means sincere; “gu” means stubborn obstruction; “nai” means there is nothing to be done. The meaning is that when the ruler issues commands he should be cautious, because this bears on rise and decline. When commands cannot be carried out, teaching and transformation are not yet complete—one must not abandon cultivation because some resist. One must act as Pan Geng did when he promulgated the edict on moving the capital, or as the Duke of Zhou did in pacifying and building Luoyi—only then is it fitting.

“Qi guards the mound of primal virtue” (Qi fang yuande qiu) means using Qi to protect the hill of primal De (virtue/power); “the lineage of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors” refers to that tradition of rulership.

“Yuan” refers to yuanqi (original vital energy)—the foundation cultivated below; “de” refers to heart virtue—the moral quality seated above. “Qiu” means a hill or mound, connoting loftiness; “pai” means a branch or lineage—transmission from master to disciple, generation after generation. These two lines, together with the two that follow, were not in the original text; they were taken from a five-character archaic version to close the meaning of this section of the scripture.

“Five Classics and Four Books—Kong and Meng teach without distinction of class” is a prayer formula. Another recension writes “Kong and Meng” as “chengda,” meaning the completion of virtue and the full unfolding of talent.

In the seven-character archaic version of the Dadong Yuzhang Jing, this section is not labeled for any particular ritual use; it appears to be text treasured by the liturgical Daoist lineages. Such yuzhang passages are often couched in hidden language, hard to read on the surface; commentators usually highlight key characters in each line to indicate the intent.

“Luo san lan bo dai qia tai”: denotes turning from outer circumstances to inner contemplation, not fixed in one place—the crux is the character “luo” (to gather/encompass).

“Li tang yun tui ru lian guang”: denotes working from inner transformation and circulation—the crux is “yun” (to revolve/operate).

“Ling du yu luo shu miao yu”: like opening a picture of the numinous capital—the crux is “yu” (to nurture/gestate).

“Fu chao san zhao sheng yao heng”: the pivot is “sheng” (life/birth), implying means to turn back premature death and extend life.

“Zhi shi ming qian ting pan bao”: the pivot is “pan” (to look toward/hope), implying the great vow to deliver beings from suffering.

“Yi you xuan wo cheng sha fu”: the pivot is “cheng” (to weigh/declare), implying judgment of merit and blessing like the Purple Tenuity star.

“Yan ming gui hui he zi cun”: the pivot is “he” (harmony/thriving), with the sense of flourishing vitality.

“Le xian le bai fen tian hou”: the pivot is “fen” (to strive/rise), with the sense of ascending another level.

“Tu cheng yuan ping mi jie zhang”: the pivot is “mi” (pervasive/filling), with the sense of reaching everywhere without limit.

This colophon to the Commentary on the Rain-Fragrance Heavenly Scripture Incantation explains the pivotal word in each line of the incantation.

For the line rendered in the text as sheng zhang jie lu miao lan meng, the pivot is meng (obscurity, covering, “beginning innocence”): it carries the sense of meng yi yang zheng—“nourish what is upright in the state of being covered or still unformed”—that is, to preserve purity while one is still in a condition of not-yet-clarity.

In di mang deng ning xie quan xin di, the pivot is xin (faith, sincerity, trustworthiness): the meaning is to make sincerity and trust bright and manifest.

In ni tuo ya nan mo jue fa, the pivot is mo (plan, counsel, “following the old pattern”): it means shuai you jiu zhang—to conduct oneself according to established statutes and precedents.

In cheng jin you yan ri yue xing, the pivot is cheng (to mount, to rely on, to “carry through”): it means wu wei bu xin—there is no detail so small that sincerity does not reach through it; trust extends even to the subtlest point.

The line on fa (dharma, method, norm) again turns on mo, with the same sense of adhering to the old regulations.

The line cheng jin you yan ri yue xing again turns on cheng, again with the sense of “no minuteness without sincerity.”

In dou yao xi ming qi fang yuan, the pivot is dou (the Dipper, the Northern Dipper): it has the import of yi qie wei xin—“everything is only in the mind,” that is, all depends upon the heart-mind; qi here denotes the pre-heaven primordial Qi (vital energy).

In de qiu shou zhen gu ling shou, the pivot is gu (solid, firm, fixed): it means jin gang bu huai—“diamond indestructible”—firm and not to be broken or destroyed.

The closing shi yue yu shu ke jing yan (“this is called the jade book, worthy of careful study”) is roughly drawn from the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture), a classic of Daoist inner cultivation, to gather and seal the meaning of this scripture. The main text of the scripture comprises only ninety-six characters; the final sixteen were composed and fixed by the patriarch of the Gong lineage (Gong Wushang) to instruct those who come after.

Western India (the ancient name for India), Heart School, one hundred and first-generation transmitter Min Zhenxian respectfully sets this forth. I take the liberty of explaining secret passages from the esoteric corpus, briefly as follows: it is not that I dare to interpret recklessly; there is in fact a lineage behind it. Formerly I received from my master Yedepoye (a teacher’s name in Sanskrit transliteration) the Gaduo Leisi Heart Chapter, which states: the script and letters of this school’s classics are all in Sanskrit, and their pronunciation is all Sanskrit sound. Bhagavan, pitying that conditions in the world are not uniform and that local customs differ everywhere, saw that if teaching were carried on exactly as in the original form, it would be hard to spread widely—transmission would be as good as no transmission—so he established the general rule of translating according to local circumstances. Within that rule, some render both letter and sound, as with the Tripitaka scriptures in circulation in the world; some render neither letter nor sound, as with the Sanskrit original volumes in the canon; some translate sound only without changing the written form, as with the swastika (wan) sign in the canon and the like; and there is also the method of inferring from this, where text and meaning are one and penetrate through and through. For writing is the pattern of the mind, and sound is the cadence of the mind; the subtlety within can in principle be grasped universally and entered through the spirit—this is precisely what the Tathagata’s essential aim reveres. I privately embodied this meaning and was therefore entrusted with the whole transmission and charged to one born in Zhendan (the ancient Indian name for China), of the Min clan, granted the name Zhenxian, to inherit the Heart School and become a generation of the later line. Hence I respectfully report this and humbly hope the Tathagata will not go against his original vow and will protect and keep me to the end. After Zhenxian received it, he translated the Wisdom True Words, the Mantra of the Secret Traces Spirit, the two scriptures Great Compassion Upholding the World, and the dharani (esoteric mantra samadhi). Knowing my endowment to be ordinary and low, how could I dare treat mistaken interpretation as truth? Explanations given before were in truth only “each benevolent person sees his own meaning.” Now disciples wish to take them for carving blocks and printing, so the circumstances are briefly set out above; if readers will forgive this, it will be Zhenxian’s great fortune. Respectfully inscribed on the fifteenth day of mid-winter in the jiayin year of the Daoguang reign (1834).

Wisdom True Words. Annotated by Jin Gai Shan Ren Min Yide of the Shi clan. This true words (mantra) was transmitted from Mother Chen (the female immortal master revered in the Jingming Way), treasured and secretly kept by Ancestral Master Xu of Jingyang (Xu Xun, founding patriarch of the Jingming Way); there has never been commentary on it until now.

This mantra (a spell recited in Daoist practice) was handed down from Mother Chen (the female immortal traditionally said to have transmitted Daoist methods to Xu Xun), treasured and kept secret by Patriarch Xu of Jingyang (Xu Xun, founding patriarch of the Jingming Way); until now no one had annotated it. I have recited it for a long time and suddenly seemed to grasp something, so I wrote this commentary, hoping that fellow practitioners who read it will find their eyes and minds opened.

Om: pronounced “an,” a word of praise.

Boluo: bo as in “bo,” luo as in “la.” The bo is a gold vessel, shaped like a bowl but with a mouth somewhat smaller—round and hollow; Taiji (the root of the myriad things) issues from it, light flashing. The human xingzhu (the pearl of light formed from one’s true nature) closely resembles it. To call it boluo is to take this likeness. Luo is a grammatical particle, like “thus” or “as.”

Boluo is also said to be repeated once to round out the meaning, as in “emit light, emit light again.”

Kou san boluo: kou san pronounced “sha,” meaning “many.” Luo is again a particle, like “thus” or “as.”

Speaking boluo again is still repetition to complete the sense, as in “light upon light.”

Kou san boluo: kou san (“sha”) carries the sense of multitude. Kou san boluo describes how nature and principle appear layer upon layer—that is, the myriad forms each distinct.

Repeating kou san boluo again means that nature and principle never cease to arise, as if countless gold bo vessels appear in succession.

Yinniliye (a string of syllables in the mantra, interpreted character by character—not the country name): yin is to attest or conform. Ni refers to the three ni, the utterly sagely; the text names Shakyamuni and the Supreme Lord (Taishang)—meaning that native nature is bright and pure, its splendor vast, fully in accord with Zhongni (Confucius), Muni (Shakyamuni), and Qingni (the Supreme Lord). Li is to belong or be subordinate. Ye is “wild man,” here the advanced junzi (the worthy who goes before later learners). Native nature’s light is boundless; once it conforms to the three ni, its measure already belongs among the advanced.

Miluntuoni: mi is as great as greatness can be. Lun is the image of circulating flow without obstruction—speaking of the light of native radiance. Native nature’s light is boundless; once it conforms to the three ni, its measure already belongs among the advanced.

Mile Tuoni: “Mi” means vastness pushed to the utmost limit; “lun” is the image of circulating everywhere without the slightest obstruction—it refers to the nature-light (xing guang) as vast and all-pervasive, with no hindrance at all. “Tuo” means round and bright, radiating splendor. “Ni” is a veiled name for the sun: in the language of heaven the sun is called “ni,” and Western Sanskrit does the same. This describes the form and function of the nature-light: it not only aligns with the merit of the “san ni” (three sun-related hidden designations), it is virtually identical with the sun itself.

Hanlu Hanlu: “Han” is to conceal; “lu” is dull or blunt. “Hanlu” is like great wisdom hidden deep within, so that outwardly one seems clumsy and slow—concealment taken to the extreme. The phrase is repeated to lead into what follows.

Zheli yu: Picking up from above, it says that ancient sages were glad to bestow the supreme Way on seekers precisely because such seekers embody great wisdom that looks like foolishness. “Zhe” means the ancient wise; “yu” (read like “yu,” “to give”) means to grant or bestow.

Zheli yu: The ancient sages were sure to be willing to give the supreme Way to people like this.

Zheli yu: Said three times in a row to open the next passage—the point is that they were willing to do more than merely grant the Way.

Suoha: “Suo” in the language of heaven means swift; “he” (read like “huo”) is also heavenly speech, describing extreme speed—as quick as the sharp sound “huo.” Following the previous lines, it means not only granting but granting at once. Ordinary wisdom is still not the supreme Way, and the supreme Way cannot be obtained except by those of great wisdom—so it was what the ancient sages cherished deeply. The “ancient sages” here are Yuanshi, Yuanhuang, and Huangren—the holy perfected ones of high antiquity who transmitted the Way.

“Om” is pronounced like “an”; it is a word of praise. “Bo” is pronounced like “bo”; it denotes a vessel, like a bowl but with a slightly smaller mouth, perfectly round and without flaw. Its form is like Wuji (the boundless origin), and it carries its own radiance, dazzlingly bright. The nature light (xingguang)—the light emitted from one’s true nature—is in fact much like it, so the comparison is used. “Bo la” is said again to make the point twice, as if to say “just so, just so.”

“Kou san” should properly be read as “sa”; it describes layer upon layer appearing in succession—that is the sense of the character “sa.” “Kou san bo la” means that many nature-light pearls (xingzhu), each like a bowl, follow the nature light released earlier and appear in turn, each shining forth. Saying “kou san bo la” again is the same kind of repeated emphasis.

“Yin” means to match or accord—that is, to be in conformity. “Ni” refers to the sun: in the divine speech of the highest heaven the sun is called “ni,” and in the Buddhist lands of the West the sun is called “Muni.” This means that my nature-light pearls connect in this way, countless in number, shining forth one after another, and above they correspond with the sun in the sky; their brilliance is so great that it is the same as the sun itself—hence the phrase built around “ni” and the sun.

“Li” means to belong. “Ye” is an honorific for wise rulers of antiquity; “yeren” (wild/unlettered person) here refers to such exemplary figures of old. Having obtained nature light and being in accord with the sun above, one’s station should be counted among the ancient worthies—hence “li ye” in the same wordplay string.

“Mi” means all-pervading without lack; “lun” means turning without obstruction; “tuo” means complete and vast; “ni” again is the sun. “Han” means to contain or hold within; “lu” means dull or slow, and also denotes plain, unadorned substance. “Zhe” is the sage of antiquity. “Li” is joy and delight. “Yu” is read like “yu” and means to give, bestow, or grant.

This says: the nature-light pearl that is all-pervading, unobstructed in its turning, complete and vast, and like the sun, is constantly held within persons of dull, plain temperament—and such plain persons are precisely those favored by the ancient sages. Here the meaning of “han lu” is stated again.

Therefore what follows immediately repeats “zhe li yu” three times, then goes straight to “suo he.” “Suo” means swift; “he” is also written “he” (celebration), with a sound close to “huo” (goods), used to describe “speed”—as in the sharp sound of “huo.” “Zhe” is the ancient sage, that is, the highest sages and perfected ones (shang sheng, shang zhen); “li” is delight in bestowing, and “yu” is to give. The first line continues from “han lu” and states that this is a fixed principle; the second says that this is indeed the fixed principle, with a more decisive tone; the third leads into “suo he” below, meaning not only delight in giving but giving quickly—hence the direct transition to “suo he.” In this exegesis, “ni” within the playful “Indonesia” reading should not be understood as three separate “ni” syllables.

The One-Eye True Mantra

Annotated by Min Chafu of Jingai Mountain, Wuxing.

This mantra is said to come from the Filial Piety King among the Dipper (a spirit in Northern Dipper [Beidou] devotion). For a long time it has been used as a treasured manual for Beidou liturgy. In practice, place a precious mirror before the meditation cushion; with each recitation, bow once until the forehead touches the mirror—worship in this way, without counting repetitions. The lineage is attributed to Guo Fenyang (Tang general Guo Ziyi, enfeoffed as Prince of Fenyang). He recorded this ritual to seek wisdom and placed it before the Wisdom True Mantra. The account is both open and hidden. Because the method comes from the Northern Dipper, it originally had no commentary. Learning the Way depends entirely on wisdom; using it to seek clarity is not improper, so notes were added to aid understanding and recitation. Not daring to keep it private, it was printed and shared with fellow practitioners.

Mantra: Suohe yimu hun ban (suohe is also written suoha, as used in prayer liturgy).

Suo means the myriad principles in thousands of strands. He (pronounced like “huo”) means to gather and unite. Mu is the items or entries. Hun means wholly merged into the Way’s principle, with not a hair’s breadth of human intent mixed in. Ban (pronounced “bo”) is a Sanskrit term for the light of great wisdom; it resembles boluo yet differs: boluo still allows something like a form, while ban is limpid and without boundary. Saying suohe has the effect of gathering all principles into one; saying yimu hun has the meaning of smelting them into mystery. Human nature is originally good but later becomes obscured through habit. To return to the light of wisdom first received, one need only thread all distinctions through a single “eye” and melt them entirely into oneness; then true wisdom is restored—and that is what is called ban. Ban is like the sudden appearance of a boundless realm of luminous treasury—without edge or limit; one can imagine it but hardly put it in words; the meaning is deep and subtle. How it works in the end is explained below.

“Suoke dididi xinban” (in Daoist prayer liturgy, suoke is also written suoha). This line picks up the earlier word ban (merging): when every principle comes together, Xingguang (Nature Light—the inherent radiance of the original nature) brightens anew. The worry is only that the merge is momentary and the root-tendril (gendi) is not yet firm—what joined can easily fall apart, what was already unified can tangle again, and the wisdom-light gained hangs in midair with nowhere to settle.

The myriad things must each be sent back to their own root. Hence the earlier suoke on “yimu hun” (all principles gathered into one vision, utterly undifferentiated) carries a sense of non-knowing, non-discriminating awareness; the suoke here carries following the Di rule in compliant accord. Di is ti (stem): the root-tendril to which a thing is tied; didi is the root-tendril of that root-tendril. The first Di means following the tendril; the second Di means following the principle of that tendril. Xin (new) means stripping away old stains.

Once the thousand threads and myriad principles have converged in the single unified eye and original true wisdom is restored, one must within those myriad principles trace each thing’s root-tendril and then ask what that tendril itself is tied to. Only when the ten thousand things each return to root and gather at the ultimate principle is the meaning of didi truly realized; old impurity is fully renewed, and the wisdom-light that was always complete shines again like a polished ancient mirror. Then the power of yimu hun can stay firm and lasting without flaw. This line explains the one before and digs down to the source—enough to show that learning with a root is like a spring that never runs dry.

This zhenyan (mantra line used in practice) was handed down by the Shangzhen (upper immortals) so that aspirants who keep it may realize wisdom for themselves.

The first suoke suggests broad study then return to the essential, awakening by oneself and dwelling at ease. This suoke suggests dwelling at ease while depth accumulates. The next suoke will suggest that once what is received runs deep, one meets the source on every side.

“Suoke boluo boluo” (suoke also suoha, boluo also poluo—all forms used in prayer liturgy). Luo means to spread and pervade; this line is exactly the sense that when reception has gone deep, left and right one encounters the source.

Svaha, paro paro (both svaha and paro are formulaic words in prayer liturgy. Ra means to spread out and pervade; pa means to moisten and enrich.)

This passage continues the previous one: the manifold principles have already gathered in the “Emperor of emperors” (the supreme sovereign), like great waters stored in the Star Lake (the lake region at the upper reaches of the Yellow River)—full and ready, yet not yet released. That is the sense of svaha here. Pa describes the vast, overflowing xinghai (sea of inner nature): surging far outward and beginning to move. Ra is a grammatical particle. Paro paro means that once ban (prajna/wisdom-as-principle) is set in motion, one wave has barely settled before another rises; pattern forms of itself, layer upon layer, woven without end, with no fixed place or fixed form. The point is that when the newly born ban of the Emperor of emperors pours forth, it is exactly like this.

Guan ban guan ban—“observe ban, observe ban”—means to contemplate this ban again and again.

This passage picks up the meaning of “boluo boluo” from above to explain “guan wo” (observing the self). The first “guan,” taken at face value, means careful scrutiny; the second “guan” is read as “guan” in the sense of penetrating through—seeing clearly through and through, leaving nothing out. When nature and principle already brim over and spread in every direction, vast and luminous, showing the scene of “boluo boluo,” that state is close to “the highest good is like water.” The worry is that the human heart shifts as easily as water spills over: blocked, water floods; flooding, it overflows; overflowing, it runs wild, until it rings hills and drowns high ground and the force can no longer be checked. Only by guiding it along its nature can it run clear and unblocked; the way is simply “to act where there is nothing to do”—to follow nature and not interfere rashly. The wise person’s endowment is good by nature, yet one fear is that desire at first contact will shake it; once shaken, it is taken away, nature grows thin, and heart-and-mind scatter freely. This is the hinge where Heavenly principle meets the human mind, where subtlety meets peril—scrutiny must be fine. Only in the instant before a thought has quite arisen, cultivating by leading from one’s nature, the hidden subtle has its own master; the practice is again that same non-busy acting—this is what “guan” means. What is called “ban guan” is to use the original great light of wisdom to illuminate countless principles, to nourish them directly without injury, with the bearing of clear eyes and keen ears and of governing through wuwei (non-action)—as the Documents of Yu put it, “respectfully carrying out Heaven’s mandate, only in timeliness and in discerning the subtle.” The later “ban” is like the Zhou hymn: “how great is Heaven’s mandate, solemn and unceasing”—Heaven’s mandate is deep and never stops. This points to the method of contemplation; it is also the gist of “ban guan” and the root sense of “ban.” Those who can seek blessing for themselves then have a place to stand. Through ban one aligns with the Emperor—the Heavenly Lord, the sovereign.

“Yin” means to rely on or follow along. The meaning of this character continues from the preceding word “guan” (contemplation). “Yin ban di” means: only by following the “ban” within “ban-guan” (contemplation of prajna) and tracing upward the source of what “boluo boluo” (transliterated syllables in the mantra, pointing to the lineage they signify) represents, all the way back to the “di” in “di di xin ban”—if one abandons this reliance and grasps elsewhere, one drifts further from the Dao and the tianji (innate spiritual responsiveness in the person) is confused and buried. Then, once “boluo boluo” leaks outward, one can suddenly fall into what is foul and low; even if the power of “suohe” (transliterated closing phrase of the mantra) were “complete in a single glance,” how could it be refined into mystery rather than turning into karmic obstruction? So the word “yin” is used with precision: at the boundary between heaven and the human, it marks the central theme of “weiwei”—the human mind is perilous, the mind of the Dao is subtle.

Yin ban suo wa he (“Suo wa he” is also written “suo po ha,” the closing formula used in prayer liturgy. Commentators say: suo means multitude, wa means pervasion, ha means swiftness.)

“Wa” is read like “fu,” carrying the sense of returning to the original beginning; “he” is read like “huo,” as if the breath spits it out sharply, indicating speed. This follows the previous passage: only when one can “yin ban” do myriad principles all revert to that first bit of original intent in the “di,” with effect as swift as sound and its immediate echo. This mantra forms one continuous spell with the Wisdom Mantra above and the Augment Wisdom Mantra below. The opening “suo he” two syllables continue directly from the final line of the Wisdom Mantra above—the line of descent and ascent is clear. The opening “da” of the Augment Wisdom Mantra below is the same idea as “yin ban” in this piece; the reasoning runs through without break. All of this depends on the lead reciter holding the thread in one unbroken line.

Accounts of how this mantra came down do not agree. Some say it was transmitted from Shaoyang Dijun (the Lesser Yang Sovereign Lord); others attribute it to Xu Jingyang (the Jin-dynasty Daoist Xu Xun). The Jiejiezi Bizhuan Ke (a liturgy manual for brush-written fulu talismans) states that it came from Yujing Shenmu (the Divine Mother of Jade Clarity), who passed it to Douzhong Xiaodiwang (the Lord of Filial Piety and Brotherly Love in the Dipper), and then to Han Changli (Han Yu). In the Song, Master Baiguan obtained this text in Xuanggai Dongtian (the grotto-heaven of the Mysterious Canopy); for a long time it remained a pillow-book secret of bizhuan (brush talisman) lineages. I also consulted the Dazang Jiyao, which says the Great Wisdom Venerable (the Song Chan master Dahui Zonggao) spread it in the world and that it seemingly came from the Western Regions. Qingyunzi offers another account: transmission from Donghua (Eastern Florescence), Donghua to Zhenyang Dijun (Zhongli Quan), Zhenyang in turn to the three patriarchs Lü Chunyang (Lü Dongbin), Liu Haichan, and Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan); Zhang Ziyang personally transmitted it to Haiqiong Baizu (Bai Yujade), and Baizu to Helin Pengzu (Peng Zai). Only after that did the mantra circulate widely. Those who practice bizhuan keyi (brush talisman liturgy) cannot do without it.

The mantra runs: dan, ni ye; dan, ni ye; dan, ni ye. Ta, hong, bi zu, bi zu.

“Dan” refers to this circle ○—that is, the heart of the Dao, the heart of Heaven, the heart of the Buddha. “Ni ye” refers to this single brush-stroke dot, the mark that rises from within the circle; hence “ni ye.” Saying it three times in a row is to declare this principle plainly, as if to say: this too is you, and that too is you. What is “ta”? It is this same circle ○. Here the sense is “pointing at the moon” and “pointing at the sun”—mutual confirmation—so it is called “ta,” proving that the dot is the circle above. “Hong” is a word of praise. “Bi” means casting off all stray thoughts and fantasies, as when one shuts a door and does not open it again, not letting the spirit scatter outward. “Zu” is the zuqiao (ancestral aperture)—where one is born, the xuanpin (mysterious female) gate where yin and yang generate and transform, the final homecoming, the realm of nirvana. Repeating the phrase once more leads into what follows.

This passage continues from what precedes it, penetrating one layer deeper into the profound principle after the initial breakthrough has been pointed out. At this stage, the signs of progress are visions such as the Sanskrit phrases “boluo boluo boluo ru” appearing again and again before the eyes, yet none of them can be traced to any source: one can neither guide oneself along them nor break through them further. The holy master, fearing that later students would linger in the wondrous state of the first breakthrough, instructed them to enter right from here, probing and measuring carefully and investigating deeply—hence the further phrase “woli tuoye.” Seeing that the student had already gone deep in probing, the master worried that they might start attaching other interpretations or be hindered by fixation on doctrines and views, and so gave another shout to wake them: “You!” The meaning is: there is no other principle apart from this; it is still your own original face at the next level inward. This is yet another kind of scene after breaking through in meditation, having reached the realm where subtle existence (miaoyou) appears. At the first layer of breakthrough, one sees only the image of a single clear qi flowing and turning in emptiness—that is merely the initial stage of entering the void, and cannot yet be called subtle non-being (miaowu). Going one step further, the ten thousand things all open up: ceaseless generation and transformation, more than the eyes can take in—neither driven away nor held fast. Not only are there city walls and mountains and rivers, men and women like clouds, but everywhere one sees gold for tiles and white jade for steps, adorned with gems of five colors; rare birds and strange plants displayed on every side; the sea of nature and the mountain of benevolence standing clear and lofty, boundless. Within this there are also all kinds of sights and sounds beyond description—three mountains and four seas, Buddha-lands and rakshasa realms, supreme sages and high immortals, ordinary men and women, human and non-human beings—nothing seen unclearly or heard indistinctly. This is what is called subtle existence (miaoyou). Advancing further from here, the situation changes again entirely; that is what appears in the text below.

“Bo-luo, bo-luo, bo-luo, ni ye”—recite this string three times in succession, then add “Wa-li-tuo, ni.” What is marked here is miaoyou (the subtle yet real realm). From this point, advance one step further, and the scene changes greatly; what appears in the following text is exactly this layer.

The syllables are still chanted three times in a row, ending again with “Wa-li-tuo, ni.” The dot beside the circle means “right here.”

This is the ineffable, unfathomable scene that appears again as “bo-luo, bo-luo, bo-luo” after one has gone deeper from the level above. Probe with the hand—you cannot feel its edge; bite with the teeth—you cannot break it. Within it there is nothing to praise and nothing to condemn. Ni ye (“it seems so”) means it appears to be thus, yet cannot be pinned down in fact. The sage master (the teacher who guides cultivation) has the student go in further still and pursue it to the end, and the knot of doubt is thus undone again. One has then verified entry into miaowu (the subtle, empty, true realm). Compared with the time of the first pocan (preliminary breakthrough in meditation), it looks similar, yet the difference is in fact very great. The master fears that people will dwell on this side and leave that, or dwell on that side and leave this, and suddenly give rise to divisive thoughts and walk into heterodox side paths; therefore he again shouts “Ni!” When practice has reached this point, once it is broken open with a pointer, the triumphant realm where myriad paths open at once appears—utterly unlike the miaoyou shown before. Hence there is further instruction below.

“Re-luo, re-luo, mi-tuo, wa-li-tuo, ni.” The dot beside the circle again means “right here.”

These strings of syllables to be chanted in succession are zhouyin (mantra sounds in the scripture—not to be read for literal meaning), used to mark the realms that unfold layer by layer in cultivation; “ni” is the master’s duanhe (sharp shout of awakening), meant to rouse the student so he does not cling to one side only.

This passage follows directly on the previous shout that “breaks through”: every path opens at once, yet one still cannot treat everything now appearing before the eyes as already ultimate. The holy master feared that students would suspect this was mere illusion, refuse to investigate thoroughly, and let spirit-consciousness scatter among the myriad things so that nothing could be threaded through as one. He therefore instructed: what you manifest is what is disclosed under the illumination of wisdom-light (huiguang); why not take everything this lamp of wisdom shines upon and observe each aspect in full round? That is the sense of the old saying, “for now, look at the myriad differences of form and color as they appear, complete as they are.” The next line—“within the finest tip, worlds as many as grains of sand; where there is nowhere to seek, there one sees true suchness (tianzhen)”—means that even in the minutest particle there are worlds in sand-grain number; it is precisely where seeking has no foothold that true suchness is seen, which is the meaning of “each thing is one Taiji (Supreme Ultimate).” For that reason he again had them say “woli tuo” (here “wo” is glossed as “fu,” the belly), and then shouted once, “You!” That expresses the idea that “the Six Classics and Four Books are all annotations written by my own mind,” hence another shout, “You!” At this point one is on the verge of entering the realm of complete penetration (yuantong) and perfect clarity (yuanming); further teaching follows below.

“Dili, dili, mei di woli tuo, mei di woli tuo, you.” ○ (The circle stands for “this”—here, this very spot.)

This continues after the preceding “mi tuo woli tuo,” extending the instruction toward what is extremely vast and extremely deep.

“Dili, dili, mei di woli tuo, mei di woli tuo, you.” ○ (This.)

This continues after “mi tuo woli tuo,” directing inquiry into the root of the great earth, vast and thick, until no further meaning remains to be investigated. It reads like a reply: as if there were no room left, yet one must still go deeper—hence “dili, dili, mei di woli tuo.” That is the student’s own question, because one has already entered the state of complete penetration and perfect clarity. The holy master, knowing this, took up the thread of his words and said: “Mei di woli tuo.” The point is: you are about to enter the wondrous realm of perfect awakening (yuanjue) and perfect stillness (yuanji). He immediately shouted once, “You!” The student, receiving this shout, let go again and again, and a kind of wholly manifest perfect stillness appeared—hence what is shown in the text below.

“Suopo.” ○ (This.)

“Suo” means “all.” “Po” here is “fu” (again/restore)—not the same “wo” as in “woli tuo” above: there it was glossed as “fu” (belly); here as “fu” (again), as if to say what heaven endows is originally just so.

“Suopo.” ○ (This.)

“Suo” means “everything.” “Po” means “return,” and this differs from the meaning of “po” in the earlier phrase “polituopo” in the mantra text—there “po” is explained as “abdomen” (fu), while here “po” is explained as “return” (fu), meaning that the nature Heaven bestows is wholly restored; that is what is meant by yuanji (perfect quiescence, “complete stillness”). Only when native nature rests in yuanji is it truly the whole of what was originally there. This line is the holy master’s pointer: it describes the verification that your original face is fully restored.

“Suopo”—○ (that is, “this”).

This line is the disciple’s own question: the realm of yuanji is the true original face; I should carefully hold this meaning in mind.

“Suopo, he.”

These two lines are the holy master’s deep assent; they carry the sense of crowning him and granting the seal of achievement (mo ding shou ji—laying hand on the crown and formally acknowledging his realization). “He” is pronounced like “huo”; it is a word of congratulation; it can also be read as “extremely swift,” and either reading works.

Commentary on the Heart Mantra for the Offering-and-Refinement Ritual (jilian is the liturgy for delivering deceased souls; the Heart Mantra is its core spell)

Annotated by Min Yide (Min Chafu), recluse of Jingai Mountain in Wuxing.

This Heart Mantra was transmitted from Patriarch Sa (Sa Shoujian). It is used after the five-character Jade Chapter Scripture (Wuyan Yuzhang Jing) and is a treasured secret among lineages that perform the rite. When performing the method, one uses seven grains of white rice and inscribes the four characters meaning “extinguish offenses and ascend”—and the rite is complete.

This heart mantra is transmitted from Patriarch Sa (Sa Shoujian, a founding patriarch in Daoist rites of deliverance and salvation). It is used after reciting the Wuyan Yuzhang Jing (Five-Character Jade Chapter Scripture) and is a treasured secret method in the ritual lineages. The practice is to take seven grains of white rice, inscribe the four characters meaning “eliminate sins and ascend,” then in sequence affix Patriarch Sa’s heart seal, the iron master’s honorific name, the Taiyi honorific name, the Taiyi heart seal, the Primordial Beginning golden writ, and the Jade Emperor’s jade seal. Next, using the Qingling hand seal (a ritual finger formation), trace in the air over the rice while reciting this mantra for as many repetitions as needed until each grain shines with light, then store them in an iron jar. Each night, take them out to perform the rite of feeding the orphaned dead (sacrificing to souls with no one to worship them)—the merit is greatest in this use.

Alternatively, place the rice on the lid of a jar pierced with seven holes in the pattern of the Seven Stars. After the practitioner invokes the master and sits in meditation posture, silently recite the Wuyan Yuzhang Jing and visualize the myriad numinous presences attaching to these ritual grains; the grains will then move of themselves into the holes. If all seven fall through, the souls have attained deliverance in the Southern Palace (the celestial realm governing refinement, promotion, and ascension) and are reborn in the heavens. If only one to three fall, their karmic debts are nonetheless cleared and they may be reborn among humans or in heaven. If four to six fall, they enter the human or heavenly realms of those who cultivate the ten virtues—they are sure to obtain wealth, honor, and a body devoted to great goodness, not far from becoming immortals. If nothing happens in one night, continue the practice; even if you persist forty-nine or eighty-one nights, there is no case where wondrous efficacy does not come. The form of the iron jar is described elsewhere in the Tieguan Liank Ke (Iron Cauldron Refinement Ritual); it is not given here. The mantra text has never had a full commentary; this account dares not disclose everything either, but adds brief notes beneath each line so those who recite may know that oral power (kou gong) is embedded in the words.

“Om” (Chinese transliteration: read as “an”). When chanting, hold a heart of compassion; draw out the sound until you feel something has appeared, then stop. This syllable is used only on the first round; afterward add it once every seven repetitions, or once every nine repetitions.

Suoluo xiu is the mantra syllable that follows.

This passage explains how several mantra syllables are pronounced and how the practitioner should practice cunxiang (holding images in the mind) during the rite.

The syllable suo is read as jin; it has another reading suo. Luo is read as la, and also as lai and as lai (a variant of the last). Xiu may be read in the usual way (xiu), or as shou, or as xiu (in the “elegant/slender” sense). Each of the three syllables has an orally transmitted mnemonic. The overall intent is to visualize the host of spirits moving forward in dignified reverence, then to guide them over with ciguang (compassionate radiance).

In duo-luo-xiu, duo is read as yi, with another reading ru. The gist is to announce to the spirits so they mutually repent and clear away past karmic faults; after duo is intoned, ciguang is used to bring them forward. Elsewhere it is said that duo carries the sense of yi (“wing”), picturing the manner of mutual confession and removal of guilt. The officiant again shines ciguang upon them, like a bright mirror, so the spirits step forward and see themselves in it, and thus awaken the conscience to mutual repentance.

Xiu-luo-duo is language of comfort and encouragement. One should visualize removing fetters and punishments from the spirits, bestowing clothing and food, or administering elixir-medicine to treat illness, so that each may preserve the nature Heaven has given, and gladly accept deliverance (chaodu).

Bo-lu-zha displays the xinghai—the realm in which original nature is clear and vast as the sea. Visualize the spirits bathing therein, and suspend the sacred sun and sacred moon to illumine them.

Hua-lu-zha displays the xinfash—the method cultivated in accord with mind-nature. Visualize countless five-colored lotus flowers arising in the xinghai, together with supreme “heart-incense”; when the spirits behold this, each gains some measure of awakening. The text also says: visualize them bathing there, hanging up the sacred sun and moon to shine upon them; after each has awakened, they soar upward into the lotus, each assuming full lotus posture (jie fu zuo).

Zhen-ling ji-di-zha is the formula of syllables that names the true spirits and the auspicious emperors (ji di).

“Zha” here is taken in the sense of “cha,” a wooden raft. “True spirits” (zhen ling) means those spirits whose minds are awakened and who no longer belong to the ranks of ghosts—hence the name. This phrase serves as a covenant-affirming declaration in the ritual assembly. “Ji Di zha” is comparable to “Taiyi Cihang”—the compassionate ferry that guides and lifts people upward; it is the heart-lotus (xin hua) described in the preceding line. At this stage, maintain the intention of escorting them upward: visualize lotus stems above piercing straight into the heights; they ride wind and cloud, rise into the sky, and gradually merge into a canopy of colored clouds that soar toward the boundless expanse.

“Ma tuo”: “ma” suggests a multitude gathered as one; “tuo” a radiance that is round, complete, and fully suffused. One sees the assembled spirits become a single mass of luminous brilliance and ascend straight into the heavens. Here one need only lightly sustain the thought of sending them onward; when the sending is done, sit in quiet stillness for a good while, then conclude. That is the gist of the practice.

This heart-mantra—the brief formula chanted together with visualization—is not written down in the liturgical corpus but has been transmitted by word of mouth for some five hundred years. Some lineages append after it the robe-transformation and food-transformation mantras (spells that transform vestments and food for offering to the deceased). Qingyunzi held that this reverses the proper sequence and should not be followed, so those additions are not recorded here. That is not an intentional withholding of secrets. The mantra’s efficacy rests on sincere recitation of the Yuzhang Jing (Jade Chapter Scripture). Anyone who wishes to learn this rite should first complete one hundred eighty thousand sincere recitations of the Yuzhang Jing; then, when performing the rite, a few dozen repetitions of this mantra will suffice—the visualization will be complete and further chanting is unnecessary.

“Suoyan xu zixu” is the title of the author’s preface to the sequel Miscellany of Small Talks (Suoyan xu).

To trace his cultivation: he likewise began from the Three Principles.

My Dao was received from Master Taixu. He is an immortal who still dwells in the human realm—he has not departed this world—and was a disciple whom Mud Pill Li Zhenren took under his wing and transformed. The master’s surname was Shen; his given name was Zhenyáng, also known as Yibing. He came from a distinguished family in Wúxīng (the area of present-day Húzhōu in Zhèjiāng). His character and learning were pure and refined; ordinary people could hardly fathom their depth. What he passed on to me was entirely what Mud Pill Zhenren had transmitted to him in person.

The Zhenren was born in Shǔ-Hàn times. His lineage traced to Mother Zhěn (a female immortal who transmitted the Dao in tradition). He wrote a commentary on the Scripture of the Hidden Talisman (Yīn Fú Jīng), an important Daoist classic. In the Táng dynasty he was especially famed for his Daoist arts and styled himself “Eight Hundred.” In the Qiánlóng reign period he came three times to Húzhōu and traveled five times through Sōng Prefecture (Sōngjiāng); wherever he went he left traces of the sacred.

People called him “Mud Pill” (Níwán) for another reason. A man of Huátíng named Wèi Yuán’s mother had died and the family was too poor to bury her properly. The Zhenren lived nearby; hearing Wèi Yuán wailing, overcome with grief and indignation, he asked what had happened. On the spot he took a mud pill, placed it in the mother’s mouth, and she revived at once. The next winter Wèi Yuán had prepared full burial expenses, and only then did his mother pass away. This was divine power shown in the world; people therefore called him by the name Mud Pill—it was not a title he chose for himself.

When Taixu first met him, it was at Héshān Wù in Wúxīng. Heavy snow was falling. Taixu was returning from the city and saw him sitting in the open air; snowflakes could not touch his body at all—within about eight feet around him no snow fell. Taixu explained his circumstances, and from then on they became master and disciple. Taixu was sixteen at the time.

It is said that when the Zhenren walked in the outskirts, children often followed him. He would mix raw flour paste, spread it on his belly; before long it would bake through and give off a fragrant aroma. He would take it down and share it with the children, then they would disperse. On another occasion in the eastern suburbs of Sōng Prefecture, he performed a method for the filial beggar Cáo Dà: he held silver mercury (a substance like quicksilver) in his mouth and poured it out—it became white gold (silver). After that people never saw him again.

When one examines his cultivation, it too began from the Three Principles.

During the Jiaqing reign I traveled along the river and met Yuan Junpei of Changshan. He told me of four works he had received in transmission: first, Collected Records of the Great Void (Taixu Jilu); second, Treasure Raft of Dual Cultivation (Shuangxiu Baofa), a guide to cultivating nature and life together; third, Ancient Methods of Nourishing Life (Gufa Yangsheng); and fourth, Casual Remarks from the River (Heshang Suoyan). The single volume Suoyan had been printed by Zhao Junran of ancient Hangzhou and Xu Jun of Suzhou (Wumen). The book had circulated for many years, and many in Jiangsu and Zhejiang studied it, yet very few achieved real accomplishment.

This spring, when I visited Gusu (Suzhou), I met Wu Junjiang, a licentiate from Shanyang. He brought Suoyan to consult me and said: the book is already concise—why do so many obstacles remain when one cultivates according to it? I replied: what was explained before set out the principle but did not fully unfold the transformations within it; moreover, students in the end could not apply themselves with steady diligence. Even those who pondered deeply were either old or often ill, and still hurried for quick results. The ancient method is not like that. The saying “a seven-year illness seeks three-year moxa” means that a long-standing ailment must be prepared for early—one cannot demand instant success. Students had not yet grasped this, so few advanced to real achievement.

I then transmitted to him the twelve double-hour formulas (koujue for practice aligned with the twelve periods of the day). Wu Junjiang asked further about the “living” zi and wu (not fixed midnight and noon, but taking the hours flexibly according to the body’s qi). I then linked the living year, living month, living day, and living hour into one thread, added several living formulas from the ancient sages on healing and practice, compiled them, and handed them over. I did this because I saw that alchemy books meant to benefit the world, without a master’s transmission, might as well not be transmitted at all, however much the text wished to save others. So I followed the practice formulas and, like a serpent’s trail in ash, threaded the clues invisibly through, marking stages step by step; even without exceptional insight, one could walk the correct path at ease. This borrows the mind to refine form, and borrows form to verify the hours; the emphasis is on non-attachment, and on working at the formula of “not falling into the two sides of being and non-being.” Therefore when one speaks of emptiness, one does not drift without direction; when one speaks of substance, one does not sink into empty illusion.

For this reason the work is named Continuation of Casual Remarks (Suoyan Xu), to develop what the earlier book from the river did not fully express. The wording is plain, but the path of mysterious cultivation is set out directly. From here, if one refines with care, practice can proceed without obstruction. I hope fellow travelers will look back to Ancient Methods of Nourishing Life, Collected Records of the Great Void, and Treasure Raft of Dual Cultivation, and before long walk alongside the ancient sages. I write these lines and place them at the head of the compilation.

On the day of Qingming in the second month of the Bingxu year, the sixth year of the Daoguang reign (1826), Jinxian of Jingai Mountain (Xiao Gen) wrote this autobiographical account. The Sequel to Miscellaneous Sayings was orally transmitted by Taixu Weng, printed by Lu Liuxi, recorded by Min Yide, and proofread by Xue Xinxing.

The ancient sages said: cultivation is divided into three vehicles—celestial immortals, terrestrial immortals, and aquatic immortals—yet the methods of refinement are only three. Which three? Keep the body upright, keep the mind empty and still, and keep the intention genuine. Intention is will (zhi), and will governs both inner and outer; hence it is also called the “master of the house.” These three principles are what those who practice dual cultivation of nature and life must never forget from beginning to end, at every moment.

The practice may be increased or decreased; one need only examine oneself and maintain accordingly—because innate disposition varies in clarity and obscurity, constitution in robustness and frailty, yin and yang in excess and deficiency, circumstances in busyness and leisure, and seasons in winter and summer. What is recorded in alchemical texts is nothing other than formulas for nurturing and replenishing the life aspect of cultivation; in conduct the key is moderation, and in refinement one must also conform to the proper timing. In a year there are the winter and summer solstices; in a month the first and fifteenth days; in a day the hours of zi and wu; the body has its own natural qi mechanism—the mechanism is the sign of impending movement, what one discerns in advance before qi rises or falls. The manifest phenomena differ: by calmly observing the mechanism, one can foreknow fortune and misfortune; once the phenomenon appears, fortune and misfortune are already determined. To change course, one must use intention to maintain at the very first sign; when it fully appears, one adjusts increase or decrease accordingly—this is true skill. The firing process (huohou) is contained within this.

The secret essentials are nothing more than the rising and falling, releasing and gathering of qi; the advantage or disadvantage lies in nothing more than forcing versus natural flow, obstruction and attachment versus smooth passage, and diligent adherence versus doubt and interruption. The ancients compressed a year into a month, a month into a day, a day into an hour, and an hour into a quarter—this is called “attaining the work that rivals creation.” The Mirror for Entering Medicine transmitted this set of formulas; various alchemical classics followed with their accounts, and none who practiced according to the method failed to achieve efficacy. The ancient sages also said one must follow the body and await the opportune moment: the moment is the “living zi hour”—the instant when yang qi naturally stirs, not a fixed clock time; the body is the “body of the Dao”—the body that embodies the Great Dao. In the winter and spring seasons, the qi mechanism is prized for penetrating upward from behind. The method is to start from the lower extreme (the base of the lower body), let qi pass through the Weilü (lumbosacral area), ascend past the Jiaji (between the shoulder blades), penetrate the Jade Pillow (base of the skull), enter the Mud Ball (Niwan, the crown), hold briefly, then descend.

Qi descends again from Huachi (the place in the mouth where saliva wells up, and also where the Ren and Du vessels meet), passes through Chonglou (the throat, shaped like tiered pavilions), pauses briefly at Jiangong (the region of the heart and chest, also called Jiangque, where qi is stored), and then passes through the heart. When Niwang (the brain, also called the Sea of Marrow) receives this warm qi, the fluid in the head can only then be transformed into clear essence. Qi first pierces Weilu, ascends through Jiaji, passes Yuzhen, and enters Niwang; after a moment of focused intent it descends again—it does not simply remain in Niwang. Since Huachi is the palace where Ren and Du intersect, one must also pause briefly when descending. Chonglou is the straight downward passage; Jiangong is the treasury where qi is stored, and the clear fluid descending from the brain can here be transformed into blood.

Qi may divide into two paths behind the heart and descend to the waist and kidneys, where one must again pause briefly in intent. Two channels run from behind the heart to the waist and kidneys. When a person overuses the mind, heart-blood is exhausted and the essence of the two kidneys surges upward in reverse to rescue it—hence those who toil mentally inevitably deplete the kidneys, and soreness and pain in the lower back arise from this. Now, by letting qi retreat downward from behind the heart, blood follows downward and is transformed into white essence; kidney qi is thereby replenished, which is why one must pause briefly here.

When you feel this warm qi each turn inward toward the abdomen, circling and gathering at the navel (qilun), you must hold it there with special care—this is the subtle art of refining fluid into qi. Then direct intent to Mingmen (between the two kidneys) and again hold there for a long time—this is the subtle art of refining qi into refined qi (qi refined to a finer grade).

I have examined the formulas of refinement and nourishment: Mingmen, Jiangque, and Niwang are three places that immortals and ordinary people alike hold precious. If ordinary people can fix attention here, jing, qi, and shen become full; if those who cultivate immortality abandon these three sites, they have nowhere to begin. The Water Palace is naturally cold, Jiangque naturally warm, the lower pole (where yin turbidity gathers below the body) is again where yin dregs collect, while Niwang is the upper heaven where clear qi gathers. Water’s nature is to moisten downward and fire’s nature is to blaze upward; now we wish water to rise and fire to descend—without using intent to command them, they will not obey.

To investigate how cold can turn into warmth and warmth into coolness, one must indeed rely on true intent (the sincere single thought that steers internal practice) to pull the process back on course—yet within that effort there is also an inherent natural order.

The lower burner water palace (where kidney water gathers) naturally holds the Mingmen (Gate of Life between the two kidneys), like a lamp of glazed glass before the Buddha that never goes out day or night. In the heart’s Crimson Gate (heart palace) lies the Jasper Pool, where the “heart sprout” is nourished; above it the Marrow Sea (brain) sends down covering true yin. This is a ready-made, natural true realm—ancient practitioners simply maintained it there in silence with true intent.

Starting from the water palace: at the living zi moment (when yang first stirs—not necessarily the clock hour of midnight), hold it so it does not scatter outward; then silently gather the four-family true fire back into the Mingmen. Yang flourishes on its own; clustered yin clings and is refined by firing—cold becomes warm, and true yang is moistened so that rising and penetrating come easily. Once penetration is achieved, there is also the subtlety of guo hua cun shen (wherever it passes, self-transformation; wherever it abides, spirit is present)—without obstruction. This is the utterly natural meaning of opening the Governing Vessel (the central channel along the back).

Starting from the Crimson Gate: at the living wu moment (when yin first stirs), hold it so it does not stagnate inward; then silently gather the four-family true water to pour into the Jasper Pool. Yin flourishes on its own; clustered yang gladly nourishes it—heat becomes cool, and true yin is smelted so that descending and filling flow smoothly. The downward infusion likewise guo hua cun shen, without hindrance. Then the Crimson Gate is spirit-clear and one no longer feels heat; there is the effect of transforming blood and transforming qi (pre-heaven qi in internal practice), and further infusion into Central Yellow (the middle dantian) opens a new realm, calm on every side. This is the principle of the Conception Vessel (the central channel along the front) opening and taking effect naturally. Then one passes down through Weilu (the gate at the base of the spine) and continues the same pattern of ascending, descending, and nurturing.

The practice verse treats “not yet having passed Weilu” as one circuit of heaven: this method begins at the lower pole (the utmost lower region), returns to the lower pole, and exactly completes one round. The ancients called this set the winter–spring practice method.

In summer and autumn, one should align with the qi of the season, emphasizing smooth forward flow of qi. The method is to accumulate and hold once at Huachi (the place under the tongue where fluid is produced), then guide it downward through Chonglou (the throat) to Jianggong (the region of the heart). Settle the mind in Jianggong until the inner space feels broad, deep, and at ease; one may faintly perceive “xing shui” (nature water) with a bluish gleam on its surface. Such descriptions are only pointers—do not hunt for fixed images or force visible signs.

Suddenly cool fluid may seem to drip from above (keep the neck and back straight, with the head and face slightly lifted); when it reaches the heart palace, the coolness doubles. In the practice, only at this stage does one truly “see” xing shui; what came before was explaining the principle. Then apply “daxian” (great preservation): daxian is not deliberate doing—it is forgetting, and forgetting again.

Let it slip down naturally (“liu” suggests ease and self-so spontaneity). It divides and reaches behind the heart; from there two channels run to the waist and kidneys, where dew may turn to blood and blood to jing. When it reaches the abdomen, the whole body may feel misty and suffused (surplus fluid turning to qi); the lower pole (the lowest part of the body) grows warm (refining qi into Qi—innate primordial vitality). A light sweat may spread front and back, like bathing or being rinsed. Effects can appear before a full cycle is finished; one may stop here. If one stops, forget the warmth for a moment, then gently direct the mind backward. “Gently” fits summer, when the inner landscape favors coolness; if there is no deep cold or stagnation within, sweat permeating the body is enough.

If you then push the practice with forced intent, you will run counter to heaven’s timing. Qi rises from Weilü (the pass at the base of the spine) up to the crown. When the work can already penetrate the passes and ascend the spine, even in summer you may still deliberately guide inward penetration, so as to reach the dormant, accumulated yin hidden within the body—this too is part of the oral formula. When qi reaches Niwan (the upper Dantian in the brain), you must hold and guard it there fully. That holding has its own inner logic.