《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 16

This principle is exceedingly subtle; practitioners must not treat it as an ordinary story and dismiss it after a single reading. It is the ultimate verification that the Governor Vessel (the channel ascending along the spine) is open, the initial foundation for opening the Conception Vessel (the channel descending along the front midline of the body), and the starting point for penetrating the central channel. The Red Palace (the region of the heart) depends on this for tranquility; the Jade Pool (where saliva wells in the mouth) depends on this for purity. The Yellow Center comprehends principle; spirit and qi settle in the mysterious aperture; birth and growth alike receive its shelter. This is where inner and outer medicines meet at the moment of “dividing the gold”—refining and separating the essence in practice.

When the practitioner reaches this stage, the method is simply to empty the heart and keep intentions true, allowing qi (the refined subtle breath of cultivation) to ascend—neither forgetting nor forcing. When qi penetrates fully and turns back, the marrow becomes clear, as if touching the sky’s edge, and visions such as the Jade Terrace and Jade Pavilion, the Immortal Garden and Golden Court, may faintly appear. One should only maintain reverence and solemnity, and strictly avoid pausing to admire them. When effort is sufficient, what appears grows clearer; yet one must know that this still belongs to the body and is not yet the real thing. This pure realm is called the true shadow; what one will verify when the Way is complete will in fact resemble it. The great inward retention (nei shou) at present should only become more wakeful and discerning, guarding against stray thoughts.

Then again, from the Jade Pool below the brain one reaches the Red Palace, and performs another great retention. This retention is weighty in consequence. Though the method is wondrous, it is nothing outside applying effort within the work of wuwei (non-action). The Red Palace is where blood is generated; the heart must be cool for blood to form, hence wuwei is essential. Blood must return into the vessels, so the mechanism of qi must be empty and nimble. If intention is not relaxed, the mechanism still blocks; if inwardly there is no gathering intent, blood will flow wrongly—so one should follow the mechanism and guide it. Chest, back, waist, and belly each have fixed measures; if one violates them, when practice matures and effects appear, outcomes differ greatly, and one may even bring on blood disorders. What are these measures? The posture of the chest need only be slightly backward—that is the secret of emptying the heart and settling the Red Palace; the practitioner should understand this.

At this time one naturally feels the whole body fresh and comfortable; ancient sages called this one circuit of heaven (qi completing one full cycle). Summer and autumn practice proceeds thus; the ancients acted in accord with seasonal time, and the method is so. Yet what has been said above is the usual method for those without illness. If there is illness, there are further methods within, which one must weigh and apply oneself. In all cases, action must accord with the body of the Dao and with the season, then effects will be marvelous; do not cling to fixed views.

If one happens, during summer or autumn, to suffer from long-standing cold that has stagnated within the body, one should still begin by practicing the method that alternates winter and summer cultivation. During the summer–autumn season itself, practice should focus chiefly on bringing the qi downward. If one switches to the winter–spring approach, one must wait until the qi has settled into the abdomen, then apply storing and circulation with vigor—using mind-intent to guide the internal qi in its circuit—until the abdomen feels warm. If the qi then rises in a rush upward, slightly lift the buttocks and send the qi through and past the Weilü (the gate at the base of the spine), up the spine to the crown of the head; success is marked by thorough sweating. After that, in practice one holds only to the single key of “forgetting heat”: when the mind is stilled to the utmost and one can go deeper from a state of hearing and seeing nothing, the feeling of heat drops away of its own accord; then one adjusts the practice step by step in order. That is the method of alternating winter and summer. To practice only the summer–autumn method, one must wait until all accumulated cold has been fully expelled; otherwise it will not only fail to help but can make the illness worse.

People whose constitution has always been prone to phlegm are best treated in summer. At this season the flow of Qi (the tendency of vital energy in the body) moves outward and opens; the practitioner follows that tendency in cultivation. Inner stagnation is carried out with the Qi, and the root of the disorder can be removed. This is the classical method of aligning practice with the season.

The method is as follows: first allow the Qi to descend smoothly. After it has descended, add the sinking-and-infusion exercise (making Qi sink and pour into the lower abdomen). Throughout, wait until you clearly feel Qi moving in the belly and until warmth appears there before pressing further downward; only then apply techniques such as slightly lifting the buttocks to assist the Qi. If you sweat afterward and cannot bear the heat, add the cool-descending exercise (making Qi descend in a cool, clearing way), until the Qi has descended and the chest feels open and at ease.

Once the Qi has descended and the heart region feels cool, immediately follow with concentrating the Shen (spirit) on the Mingmen (Life Gate, the area between the two kidneys, called the gate of life). When you feel Qi pressing and stirring there, add techniques such as slightly lifting the buttocks; sweat will then break through. After the sweat has fully emerged, continue with the cool-descending method. Alternate the two in this cycle. After one week or two weeks (seven or fourteen days), the body will readily grow warm and the Qi will easily rise.

At this stage you should also add sinking-the-abdomen and infusing-the-spirit exercises. The sinking-abdomen method: from the right side of the chest, descend, pass around the navel, turn to the left, hold in the center, then advance forward and descend; phlegm will be expelled with the stool. The spirit-infusion formula: from the left side of the chest, descend, circle the navel, turn to the right, hold in the center and advance forward, attaching the Shen to the Mingmen. Descending from the left is advancing fire (nourishing warmth); descending from the right is withdrawing the talisman (drawing Qi down and back)—each has its purpose.

Practicing in this way, after the Qi rises there will inevitably be much cool fluid flowing down from the nape and chest. When this substance descends, the face must be held in a slight upward tilt; otherwise there is harm. Do not mistake it for sweet dew (the cool, sweet true fluid refined inwardly). It is muddy essence—impure sediment.

People who suffer from internal heat and restlessness should rely only on the descent technique (guiding qi and fire downward), or combine it with the method of emptying the heart (keeping the mind empty and still); food will then digest on its own. Next, perform bringing fire back to the source: fix the Shen (spirit) at Mingmen (the gate of life, between the two kidneys), let Qi flow to the lower pole, and circulate smoothly as the moment allows. When turbid fire descends, use a light intention to send it out through the “prison gate” (the lower orifice). Then, with both eyes, look upward toward Niwan (the upper Dantian in the head), gather back clear Qi, close the gate, and from Jiangque (the crimson pass at the heart and chest) let it descend to the navel wheel at the umbilicus, penetrate the ancestral aperture, and hold it with the “forgetting” method (not clinging or forcing the hold). Once Shen is concentrated and the breath is settled, the turbid fire in the chest and diaphragm will descend; again use a light intention to send it out through the prison gate. Look up again to Niwan, gather back clear Qi, close the gate, descend from Jiangque to the navel wheel, penetrate the ancestral aperture, and guard with the forgetting method. When Shen is concentrated and breath is settled, the chest and diaphragm will naturally feel at ease and the illness will leave. Only then may you proceed to practice solid abdomen (making the belly full and firm), and meanwhile fix Shen at Mingmen—the abdomen will naturally become full. After that you may practice the method of opening the Governor Vessel (Du Mai). Once the Du channel is open, essential fluids will descend; you must carefully distinguish the true from the mundane (whether it is true elixir fluid or ordinary fluid)—this is a crucial instruction. Only when the descent is genuinely real may you proceed in order through the formulas for refining Jing into Qi, refining Qi into Shen, and refining Shen to return to emptiness.

Those who suffer from blood heat, qi stagnation, and stiffness or fullness in the chest and diaphragm should first practice the empty-mind method (xuxin fa—emptying the spirit so it does not cling or fixate), then add the retreat-back gong (using intention to guide qi from behind the back backward and downward). They will feel two streams of Qi (the refined vital energy spoken of in inner cultivation) parting from behind the heart, passing through the waist and kidneys, as hot as warm broth being poured in. (When practicing, leaning the chest slightly backward improves the effect.) Gradually this warmth circulates around the navel; the belly grows intensely hot and the whole body sweats lightly. The chest and heart then feel relaxed and open—this depends entirely on the retreat-back key.

The retreat-back method uses intention to guide from the Quepen region backward. Quepen is the Crimson Palace (the heart, called in the classics the place where blood is generated), also named the Qi Store (where Qi is stored). Since Li Shaojun of the Han dynasty, few in the world have known this method. Those with meridian bleeding or violent vomiting must also begin with this key, then practice opening and clearing the middle pass (pikuo zhongguan); the empty-mind training is included therein. Some start from the Jade Pool (Huachi—the place in the mouth where fluid is generated), guiding toward what is called the Qi Store; or from the Jade Pool they add dry-gold practice plus the empty-mind key, and illness can also be cured. All of the above are collectively called summer–autumn gong methods.

Others say: after the belly is intensely hot, add techniques such as lifting the buttocks and sending qi up the spine to the head. When Qi reaches the brain, emphasize holding and guarding, and use returning vision to the Mud Pill Palace (neiguan—gazing inward at the upper dantian at the crown), drawing the true Qi of the Qian Palace (the head, associated with the Qian trigram in the Book of Changes) downward to meet the Ren and Du vessels at the Jade Pool; the mouth naturally fills with sweet dew (the pleasant fluid produced in cultivation). Swallow it mouthful by mouthful, sending it to the Crimson Palace for one round of refining, then on to the Central Yellow (the central, earth-associated dantian). Then the Crimson Palace feels cool and the Central Yellow warm and moist. At this point the student adds the ancient-tracing divine gong—this is called opening the middle pass, also named parting chaos; alchemical texts call it opening the mysterious pass (xuan guan). The key is simply “forget, forget”—even forgetting that you are forgetting. Once this pass opens, there is a place for the “medicine” to arise and a place to store it (inner alchemy names refineable essence “medicine”). What is this true realm like? Vast without bound, equally deep. This is the true work of creating life and establishing life (stabilizing and remaking one’s life through cultivation); students should cherish and remember it. With diligent practice, even if success is not immediate, one will eventually meet a true person (a master who has genuinely attained). Students, strive on.

This passage describes a class of illness in which accumulated Yin transforms into fire, while outwardly appearing as if there is excess. When accumulated Yin has not yet fully transformed into fire, one can only first apply summer–autumn gong methods (seasonal practices biased toward clearing and descending) to treat the branch; when the illness eases, add winter–spring gong methods (biased toward warming and nourishing).

If Yin has already fully transformed into fire, one can only yin huo gui yuan—return the floating fire to its source—and appropriately add summer–autumn descending formulas to help fire return to its root; only then is there hope of recovery. For this condition, xiaosa fangsong (ease and relaxation) is fundamental: treat this body as already dead; whenever a thought arises, sweep it away with fohao (Buddha-name invocation); whenever saliva gathers in the mouth, swallow it frequently—only then is there benefit.

If it is merely accumulated Yin stagnating within and fire has not yet formed, the formulas can only circulate zhen huo (true fire) inwardly, while outwardly adding friction and songdong (lifting/shaking movements), cycling without stop—then one may hope for effect. External work includes rubbing waist, kidneys, abdomen, legs, knees, feet, and hands, repeatedly song the shoulders, turning both arms like a lulu (well windlass), drawing in the legs and swaying the waist, twisting the neck to support heaven, washing the face and swallowing jin (saliva); internal work includes such methods as zhushen (fixing the spirit) and bixi (holding the breath).

When warmth is felt in the abdomen—which depends on bixi—add touhou gong (making Qi penetrate toward the back); only when bixi is practiced to maturity will outward penetrating effects appear. Because at this stage zhenqi (pre-heaven true Qi) is not strong—precisely because accumulated Yin is too great and Yang cannot overcome Yin—it is hard to get results, like placing a basin of fire in an ice cellar: how could one feel warm? The approach can only be external rubbing and song, internal bixi, so that Qi begins to move and there is hope of outward penetration. When Yang is sufficient and the genuine signs of self-penetration and self-assault appear—though called self-penetrating and self-assaulting, they still come from methods such as bixi—only then use intention to force open and break through the guanqiao (passes and orifices); one must add practice when yang sheng (Yang is generating)—otherwise it will not succeed. Because Yang is already ample, penetration is possible: sweating means penetration has occurred; for this condition, obtaining a great sweat is the true sign of effect.

When yin cold has accumulated and the hundred subtle channels (luo) throughout the body are blocked and obstructed, this illness is even harder to treat with cultivation work, because there is much internal blockage. One can only begin with breath retention (bisxi—the practice of temporarily holding the breath), then apply visualization and guided circulation in the Kun abdomen (Kun as earth, meaning the lower abdomen). Only then will Qi (xianqi, the innate vital energy spoken of in Daoism) penetrate the channels on its own and show the effect of free flow and ease. True results require sweating heavily several times like rain. When the work has just begun to show effect, one must apply visualization and circulation with even greater care. If one stops for fear of fatigue, the furnace grows cold (the body as furnace—when the fire dies, it turns cold), so one must use this to nurture the true fire (the true yang fire that warms and nourishes within the body).

Why is this so? What has long stagnated in the hundred channels is steamed by Qi; it follows Qi downward and gathers at the lower pole (the lowest part of the body). When worldly people practice, they often leak downward—this is exactly why. Then yin at the lower pole becomes very strong, like a brazier in a room surrounded by walls of ice—warmth cannot overcome cold. One must add fuel and fire in great measure and still fear it is not enough, so one must tend the fire diligently and practice without counting days, until the ice walls are fully melted—only then is there real hope. Yet students often do not understand and give up just at this stage; this has been common in every age. Therefore one must be persistent and diligent, and also brave: when there is effect, proceed this way; when there is no visible effect, proceed the same way. However much stagnation there is, there will eventually be a day when it is all transformed—why worry that the final great effect will not come?

Look at those with this illness in the world: among every ten, two or three have it, mostly merchants or scholars. The illness arises from mental overwork while the body stays at ease. Mental labor weakens the spirit; lack of bodily movement causes qi to stagnate and block. Those with depleted spirit and stagnant qi fear hardship all the more and crave comfort—yin cold and stagnation come from this. To cure it, one must change ordinary habits; when habits are reversed, the illness will improve on its own. After recovery, one may seek cultivation methods. That is the wang dao (the upright, steady path)—follow this order and act accordingly.

What has been described above is huagong—the work of refining and transforming. Unless one has deep genqi (solid foundation), few avoid giving up halfway. Hence the compassionate teaching of baduan, shierduan, shiliuduan, ershisi duan and similar jin methods (segmented daoyin routines in the style of baduanjin). This yinjing arises from stagnant qi; when qi stagnates, jing turns turbid like mud, and xue (blood) becomes blocked as well. Without these wugong (guiding donggong) to wash and grind it away, there will never be effect. Students who do not examine this abandon the practice. It is not that they tire of it—mostly they feel the skill is too petty and disdain to do it. Alas! As the saying goes, “To climb high one must begin from the low.” Moreover, these wugong are only borrowed to treat illness; they were never meant as the path to chengdao (attaining the Dao). Students should reflect on this.

Ancient sages handed down cultivation methods aligned with the four seasons, then gathered them into practice through the twelve double-hours (shichen). I will now explain to students the fixed patterns of qi (vital energy) that appear in each of those hours. The twelve double-hours are zi, chou, yin, mao, chen, si, wu, wei, shen, you, xu, and hai; each spans roughly two hours in modern reckoning, and “the exact middle” means the central point of that hour.

When water and the moon reflect one another and arise of themselves, this appears at the exact middle of zi; “I am originally empty, yet I notice that something is there” appears at the exact middle of chou; noticing that qi is circulating belongs to the exact middle of yin; qi filling and overflowing belongs to the exact middle of mao; holding to “being” while the mind rests in “non-being” is the work of the exact middle of chen; scenes flickering in and out, hard to fathom, is the atmosphere of the exact middle of si; the ten thousand forms displayed together is the qi configuration of the exact middle of wu; truth and illusion without fixed measure is just what the exact middle of wei is like; as soon as a thought arises, sweep it away at once—this is the method of the exact middle of shen; a single point of numinous clarity standing alone is the sign of the exact middle of you; hearing and seeing suddenly vanish and awareness stretches boundlessly—this does not appear before xu; at that point do not startle or doubt, but hold to the rule of the exact middle of xu; when the mind is clear, deep, and utterly still, that is the exact middle of hai.

These configurations are indeed fixed in pattern, yet only what comes of itself counts as genuine; hence the exact middle of zi is singled out in particular. Students need only take this one profound instruction as their standard, follow it in practice, and they will naturally align with it without deviating halfway. The pivot of water-and-moon interplay has its root in clarity and deep stillness. When the student, in that limpid, silent moment, lets not a single thought arise, qi becomes clear to the utmost, and water and moon manifest on their own. This is “Heaven first generates water” (tiān yī shēng shuǐ—the numerological teaching that the first phase Heaven produces is Water), the image of the Kan trigram (the Water hexagram). The single yang line in the center of Kan is the root by which the moon can appear; once the substance is present, its function shows itself—hence it is said to be obtained naturally. The principle is so; yet one must also know that this step rises from the lower pole (the lowest region of the body, where internal alchemy says qi first stirs), belonging to the season’s winter aspect. Water appearing and the moon rising is the “living zi hour” (huó zǐ shí—not clock-time midnight, but the inner moment when yang naturally stirs in utmost stillness) manifesting within the body—therefore it is said to be present at the exact middle of zi. At this time the student must forget the self, as if this body were not. When one again feels the body as “present,” that is already the inner “living chou” scene in the person—like earth appearing beneath heaven, the symbolic image traditionally called dàiqiè táilí. From nothing to something, from emptiness to fullness—this is precisely the Dao’s natural course—hence “I have no [fixed self], yet awareness of being arises”: one already has awareness, but it has not yet clung or fully disclosed itself.

Yet once one notices “having” (you), movement and stillness within the body become self-aware; this comes only after “having” is already present, when one first savors the interest of qi circulating. Even so, one is merely discerning something within a state of no listening and no seeing—precisely when the Three Powers (heaven, earth, and humanity) have just emerged. This truly belongs to the phase of yin-zheng (the yin hour, roughly 3–5 a.m.; in neidan the twelve double-hours often stand for successive stages of qi in the body).

When qi overflows, there is a tendency to leak outward; that is in fact the sign of this body entering huomao (the “living mao” hour, roughly 5–7 a.m., when qi is lively and about to rise), which carries the sense that hearing and seeing are on the verge of opening.

By chen-zheng (chen hour, roughly 7–9 a.m.), discriminating qi inevitably arises. Wayfarers of old, at this point, simply set such thoughts aside and did not fuss over them; they treated every kind of hearing and seeing as “there, yet as if not there,” and kept the mind solely guarding that unified, silent qi. Within that, they preserved the various “haves”—hence the name “preserving non-being” (cun wu). Traced to its root, this is precisely the meaning of guarding “having”; it has its own method, and is therefore called the work of chen-zheng. That method is nothing other than placing every “having” within absolute “non-being” (wu), so that those “haves” can be held in place.

Within this there are also hidden and manifest layers. The ancient wayfarers’ approach was simply to let things be, without the slightest deliberate upkeep. Thus at si-zheng (si hour, roughly 9–11 a.m.) they spoke only of “qi-sign” (qixiang), to show that nothing further need be done. The same at wu-zheng (wu hour, roughly 11 a.m.–1 p.m.): they only allowed qi to arrange itself in order, and summed it up in the two words “qi-pattern” (qiju).

This moment is precisely when yin qi first stirs within “living wu” (huowu)—like the world at midsummer, when yang reaches its peak and yin begins to sprout. When the age’s momentum reaches this point, every path opens at once, and heart and eyes are easily dazzled; in the end, regret naturally arises—that too is human feeling. Wayfarers of old treated it merely as qi-pattern: the mind did not stir in the least, and they let growth and decline run their course within the cycles of number and fate. Having already penetrated worldly affairs to the full, when subtle realms appeared they let them stay dim—now showing, now hiding—like viewing a mirage city (shenlou hai shi). That is the qi mechanism of wei-zheng (wei hour, roughly 1–3 p.m.).

This approach is only for those who hold fast to their original authenticity; it is not something beginners can manage. Moreover, as each stage of realization appears, it grows more extraordinary, and phantasmal visions of “moving the step, the scene shifts” may stir both heart and eye. The only remedy is to sweep away each thought the instant it rises—then one accords with the “living Shen practice” of neidan (internal alchemy), in which timing follows the “living hour” when qi stirs within the body rather than the clock; Shen corresponds roughly to three to five in the afternoon. Once this barrier is broken, inner wisdom-light fills the being and the omen of “one spirit alone revealed” shows itself amid what was formerly turbid and obstructed, while the pivot of mechanism stays steady—this is “You at the correct moment” (You corresponds roughly to five to seven in the evening).

At this point the student must not dwell in the brilliance, but let the spirit nest in silence; then one enters a domain without sight or hearing, where even the faintest trace is hidden. Such a true state can be met, not pursued. True Yang is thereby nourished and true Yin arises through it—this is “prior to the image of the Emperor” in the sense of the Dao De Jing: the pre-heaven phase before Heaven’s emblem has yet appeared. By the calendar it matches the deep autumn of the ninth month in a year; by the living hour it is “Xu at the correct moment” (Xu corresponds roughly to seven to nine at night). Beginners who have not yet awakened, when their practice reaches here, may instead take the total extinction of perception for absence of any sign and grow fearful. The sages of old, pitying this, marked it as the “correct Dharma” and also called it the “urgent precept.” Whoever can advance according to this precept attains depth and silence like water, stillness like emptiness, and unity of De with Heaven—this is the “living method of Hai,” hence it is said to be truly “Hai at the correct moment” (Hai corresponds roughly to nine to eleven at night), what Laozi meant by “letting the heart wander at the beginning of things”—when spirit roams where nothing has yet come to be.

The entire secret lies in the one word ru (“as such”). The subtle meaning of ru is precisely the soul of the two words wu zhu (non-abiding: the mind neither clings nor lodges in any state), and also the complete shadow of the Great Dao. If the student still cultivates from this word, realizations will appear in succession, be held in succession, and advance in succession; advancement has no end, and one knows that creation is in one’s hands and fate is not fixed by Heaven. Practice sincerely and count the days, and one may walk abreast with the immortals of old. What is described above, when checked against the tradition, is exactly the sequence of spiritual realms that appear after the predecessors compressed a year into a month, a month into a day, a day into an hour, and an hour into a moment, and practiced in order. Yet one must grasp it well before the method is complete. Its great theme is non-abiding; and the root of that theme depends entirely on the formula of “non-movement.”

The secret of practice lies solely in wuji (non-abiding—the mind not clinging to any image) and budong (unmoving—not being carried by thoughts). This is indeed so; if students carefully digest the commentary above, they can step by step conform to the method. Therefore, at each haizheng (the exact middle of the Hai period at night), the method is simply to fix the Shen (spirit) and guard the xiatian (lower Dantian, the energy center). The work should be ruocun ruowang (as if present, as if forgotten). Suddenly one may see a red sun emerge from the moon at the tianxin (heart of heaven—the inner center in the head); at first it is only the size of a bean.

The commentary says: this moon rises from the haidi (the “sea bottom”—in neidan, the lowest root of Qi) and has already ridden the central Qi up to the crown. At this point the work has reached “the body forgetting the body,” and only then does the “shuiyue” (water-moon) appear. One must know that the moon’s soul still hides in the Kan position (the water trigram’s place); its radiance shoots upward, and Qian Qi holds it fast—only then does this vision arise. Now the Kan water is calm, and the moon’s image is contained within the waves; hence it is called “jiaoying” (mutual reflection). It emits light because liver Yang descends, clings to the moon, stops its turning, and the Hun (ethereal soul) is “conceived” by the moon—this is why the moon “spits out” sunlight; the sun’s essence has not yet risen and still lurks at the haidi. After this the sun ascends; it should pierce upward along the dumai (the Governor Vessel, the line along the spine). One must only direct intention backward to succeed. If it rises along the forward renmai (the Conception Vessel), disaster is hard to measure.

At this moment one must strictly avoid raising thoughts. Then the moon hides and the sun shows; one need only quiet the mind and wait. The futian (the field in the belly) feels as if being moxa-treated—this is the effect of the sun bathing at the haidi, so the whole body feels full and harmonious. One also feels inner Qi pressing backward; it then passes through weilü (the tail gate at the base of the spine) and surges upward—then there is no harm. While the haidi bathing has not yet pierced through, one must strictly avoid panic or forcibly pulling upward; otherwise at once there may be unforeseeable conditions, like flowing fire; only by repeatedly applying the formula of “forgetting” can it be settled. Ancient practitioners at this stage only slightly shifted the mind’s intent to draw it backward to pierce through, and it naturally broke the pass and rose. Reaching yuzhen (the jade pillow pass at the back of the head), one again uses intent to guide. This yuzhen is called the “tiebi” (iron wall) in alchemical texts, and in celestial terms the “gangji” (the boundary of the Gang region); without this true Qi it cannot be penetrated. To lead it through with true Qi is what is meant by tongdu (penetrating the Governor Vessel). When cultivation reaches an open dumai, the work is already half done. In this step one uses only “leading”—strictly avoid brute force.

If intense martial-fire practice enters one’s cultivation, sounds like thunder or lightning may arise. Should a student lose vigilance and this happens, they must not give way to fear. (The remedy is to form with both hands the hand seal for settling the hun soul—a mudra that steadies soul-spirit—and sit in meditation; even under great shock, one need not fear the scattering of conscious spirit.) One need only deepen stillness further and hold for about half a watch; then a drop like spring water will descend from empty space. Looking back on its flavor afterward, one finds it extraordinarily cool and refreshing, or utterly sweet. Whether that drop has form or is formless, the formless case is even more beyond words when one truly experiences it.

This phase of stillness runs from deliberate effort until even “forgetting” is forgotten; it takes roughly half a watch to reach, which is why the text below speaks of “when it appears.” That shows that sweet dew must come from within doubly-forgotten stillness to be truly obtained. At this stage practice has entered the realm-without-body, where one no longer feels the physical form, hence “coming from emptiness.” Students should note, however, that the phrase “apprehend its quality” does not describe intent in the moment, but recollection after the event.

While the drop is descending, simply let it come from emptiness; whether it is cool or sweet, formed or formless, set all of that aside and do not inquire—only then is the practice adequate. Before it descends, one feels only empty void; once it descends, one feels it arriving from the sky. To know it as it descends keeps one from drifting in confusion; if one does not know it comes from emptiness, the work tends toward torpor and scatter, which is not the correct method. Yet if one then deliberately tries to apprehend and identify it, one falls into attachment obstacles and sticks in the sphere of conscious perception—this must be guarded against, which is why the commentary gives special warning.

Sages of old said that this single drop falls straight into the Palace of Crimson (the seat of the heart), and its swiftness can be understood from that—they call it true yin. Whether the scene of its descent appears slow or fast, the two “also” in the text teach later students to set such phenomena aside and not fall into attachment obstacles by clinging to conscious awareness.

When it descends, whether the process is slow or swift, read carefully the two characters “also” (yi): they originally teach later students to set aside the question of fast versus slow. This is precisely the method ancient masters used to shut out conscious interference. As long as it can drop without obstruction, bit by bit reaching the heart—from this one may understand that, in the end, the swift kind is what counts as authentic—and is all the more rare.

It is also said: what is formed and swift is called Jade Fluid (yuye); what is formless and swift is called Golden Fluid (jinye). This teaching was originally a secret not passed on lightly. I received it long ago from Master Taixu (the elder who transmitted this method). Now, in old age, I fear it will finally be lost, so I have put it in this book and set it out in detail for those who have the affinity.

Master Taixu said: whether formed and fast, or formless and slow, all belong to “subtle yet real existence” (miaoyou). One should recognize and distinguish what is genuinely so within them. When a single drop reaches the heart, it is extremely cool; after passing the heart, it is extremely hot—hot as if boiling water were poured down. That is true fluid. If one does not have the sensations described above, it still belongs to the post-heaven (ordinary blood and Qi as opposed to pre-heaven essence), merely giving the flow of Qi (qixi, the movement of breath and energy) a little moisture. It cannot be taken as the supreme grade of the immortal tradition.

Even so, at that time one must strictly guard against thoughts of calculation and scrutiny in the mind. Simply follow the sequence and carry on—that still counts as a beneficial effect. The methods of the ancient masters sometimes align with the four seasons of heaven and earth, sometimes with the “two sixes” of year and day (twelve months in a year, twelve double-hours in a day)—extremely flexible, and extremely subtle. As spoken of earlier regarding the four seasons, and the numinous scenes within the twelve double-hours—all are compressed into a single instant. The sensations and visions within can indeed be described step by step.

Yet the student must ask himself: can I truly observe the precepts at every step, with no occasional clinging—or did clinging arise midway? If in practice there is no occasional clinging, naturally there will be no change halfway; if clinging appears, there will be a shift midway, and the scenes that manifest will be quite different. How could this mean the ancient masters’ guidance was untrue? Master Taixu said: if the student inserts even one thought of watching, stirs up calculation and judgment, and falls one layer into conscious intent, the sensations and visions that come will change unpredictably and differ greatly from what the ancients described. One should stop practice at once and not continue. Before long, thoughts will settle and breath and energy will return to calm.

Rather than pressing on with the current step, it is better to step back along the path already traveled in that step and realign with the numinous realm (lingjing) of the very first step when you began. That realm is the subtle, wondrous awareness you had at the moment of first entry. Whenever deliberation or a single flicker of conscious intent arises, the feelings and visions that follow become unpredictable and diverge from what the ancients described; you should stop the session at once and not force the practice. After a short while, when thoughts have settled and breath is even, the same rule holds: rather than continuing this step, retreat along what this step has already covered and again match the original numinous realm. Only when you feel it is no different from the beginning may you proceed in order; otherwise it is safer to discard all prior work in that sequence and start anew from the entry point.

The ancients said that practice must hit the central correctness and accord with the timing of Heaven. That means compressing the numinous realm of a year, a month, a day, and an hour into sequence so that in a single instant the whole appears: within it are the four seasons and twelve months; each month has new moon, full moon, and thirty days; each day has twelve double-hours (shichen); and each double-hour has its own natural imagery. This method is extremely subtle and extremely real, yet only one who can quiet the mind, recognize it in experience, and follow it without confusion can step by step match what the ancients spoke of.

Since the imagery of a year can be folded into one moment, the method lies solely in letting the mechanism of qi (qiji) move while the mind stays still—practiced thus, it naturally accords with the old way. Qiji is the pivot of movement and stillness of qi within the body. To practice for the time it takes one stick of incense to burn is already to seize a hundred years of creation and transformation (zaohua). A stick of incense is the span until that incense is consumed; zaohua is the generative change of Heaven and Earth. The ancients therefore called this “gong duo zaohua”—the achievement that seizes creation. It is at once difficult and easy; the student should strive.

As for zi and wu—zi is midnight, wu is noon—these are the alchemical markers of yin and yang. In zi there is “living zi”; in wu there is “living wu.” The winter and summer solstices of the year are Heaven and Earth’s living zi and wu; the cycles of year, month, day, and hour are Heaven and Earth’s fixed zi and wu, fixed by calendar and clock. In a human being, the two solstices of Heaven and Earth and the zi and wu in the cycles of year, month, and day are all fixed zi and wu; only the zi and wu of those two double-hours are the living zi and wu of the person. Even so, these are still only the living zi and wu that alchemical texts must point out to people—the living zi of “the first stirring of yang (yiyang chudong),” the moment inner yang begins to stir. If one seeks the true living zi and wu, there is a further distinction. The true living zi and wu must be sought in what is formless and imageless; what that teaching ultimately means is another matter.

When practice has reached a stillness beyond which nothing further can be stilled, one suddenly feels a vital stirring within, as though something has been gained. This is the “living child” (huozi)—not the zi hour on a clock, but the first stirring of true yang. When that vitality then surges forth in full, that is the true sign of the living child. It radiates naturally inside the body and is about to reach the male root; at that moment the inner qi (xian tian qi, pre-heaven qi in internal training) of the living child is fully present.

The method is to hold it steady with the Celestial Eye (tianmu, the point between the eyebrows used for inner sight). The qi then ascends on its own along the Governor Vessel (du mai), running upward in reverse to Kunlun (the crown). With a slight intentional pause, the Sea of Marrow (sui hai, the brain) becomes calm as still water; then it flows downward naturally. Wind stirs in the Jade Pool (hua chi, where mouth fluids gather), converging before the Crimson Palace (jiang que, the heart region). The Celestial Sovereign (tian jun, the mind) is at peace, and the whole body is settled as if every domain were at rest. This is what is called drawing from Kan to fill Li (qu kan tian li)—using true yang from Kan to replenish the emptiness in Li so that water and fire intercourse.

If the external kidneys (wai shen, the male genitals) have already risen and thoughts arise at the same time, the external kidneys will stiffen further. At that juncture the ancient sages urgently used intention to draw it back: along the Sea Bottom (hai di, the perineum) in reverse, penetrating upward to the crown and storing it in the Qian Cauldron (qian ding, the crown in the Qian position)—neither forgetting it nor deliberately forcing it to grow. When qi is nourished by the marrow, it turns by itself into jade dew (yu lu, refined body fluid), slowly pouring into the pool, then descending to the basin at the gate (que pen, the chest basin). The dew stays in the basin and again transforms into red fluid, irrigating separately behind the heart. When the Kan yang that should rise is encountered, another depth of spring-like vitality can be tasted inwardly.

This can only be grasped within; one must strictly guard against being pulled by lust. The moment a thought moves, quickly lead true qi from the Qian Palace (qian gong, the crown) downward to suppress it, and clarity returns at once. Or use intention to enclose what appears before you, gather it into the Lower Field (xia tian, the lower dantian), and refine it thoroughly; then lead it backward through to the crown and store it in the Mud Ball (ni wan, the upper dantian in the head), applying great “winnowing.” Winnowing means placing all that is seen and heard outside intention. Then fluids surge in the Jade Pool; swallow them with audible gulps. The Crimson Palace feels golden and jade-bright, then opens immeasurably wide, presenting a qi landscape like a mirage city, with distances that seem now far, now near. Only when practice reaches this stage does one truly understand that nature cultivation (xing gong, work on the mind-nature) is the solid rampart that preserves life and destiny.

The method lies solely in resting the mind in place without clinging. The moment you cling, impure visions are bound to arise and unsettle your resolve. In practice you need only use intention to enfold once and gather once, then release without examining. Quickly withdraw the eyes and the spirit of hearing into a state where nothing is seen and nothing is heard. Settle there once, and you reach the point where body and world both dissolve. Then you may feel a turbid, hazy breath (yinyun)—the sign of Yin and Yang mingling in dim, generative stir—emerging within clear stillness; again let go without pursuing it, and you enter a state where self and method are forgotten together. When you suddenly sense the body again, use intention to inspect the aperture within the aperture (qiao zhong qiao), and stop when you reach that depth. The alchemical classics call this gathering the medicine into the furnace, or “Living Zi practice” (huozi xingong)—working when yang qi is alive and stirring, not rigidly fixing on the Zi hour. That is the effect in a nutshell.

Read closely and the classics speak in guarded, metaphor-laden language and never say it straight out, as if the mind’s reach were still incomplete. Yet the efficacy of “Living Wu” (huowu) is already fully contained in what they say about Living Zi. Perhaps the ancient sages wanted people to follow the steps without grasping the whole reason—yet that way of teaching easily leads people astray. Tai Xu, out of compassion for later students, therefore set forth this awakening formula again and again; the four stages of gathering, obtaining, refining, and consolidating (cai, qu, lian, ning) are all clearly implied in it.

If one follows the classics literally: when the external kidney (waishen, the genitals) rises without deliberate thought, that is indeed Living Zi and the first stir of yang; but they also say it must be guided upward to the brain, held there briefly, then led down to the Central Yellow (zhonghuang, the middle dantian and Yellow Court region)—only then does gathering begin, together with the key of “no deliberate thought,” and only then do they speak of sealing the furnace (fenglu). The hand-methods differ in detail from what the master transmits, and what they describe completes only the Living Zi phase and is not fully correct. What the classics say about the stages after Living Zi, students fail to recognize in their own experience and instead cling to one view; the more they practice, the more confused they become, until they can only sigh at how vast the ocean of the Way seems. Those accounts were the ancient sages describing the ground they had reached; at first they did not expect later students’ insight to be so blocked, or so prone to forced, literal reading. Tai Xu took pity on them, which is why this teaching is given today. What is called Living Wu, when checked against the tradition, is precisely what the ancients meant by everything that follows Living Zi.

What the text calls “huowu” (the living noon) is, in substance, still what ancient cultivators did after “huozi” (the living midnight)—not a wholly new method invented on the side. Huozi means the moment when yang qi naturally stirs within the body; it is not the clock hour of midnight. Huowu is the corresponding, more advanced timing. The ancients began their practice from huozi; the Taixu lineage’s teaching, by contrast, emphasizes huozi’s counterpart, huowu. He expounded the “Twelve-Hour Formula,” holding that when the golden world appears, that is the supreme true realm of huowu; at that time one should perform the work of cai (gathering).

This gathering method employs the Three Contemplations from the Qingjing Jing (Scripture on Clarity and Stillness). At the highest level, one rests in wu (non-being) without clinging even to that, yet does not linger in blank emptiness; gathering back, one still entrusts oneself to wu. In this cycle one refines until gathering forms a body and dispersing becomes qi (vital energy).

The practice that may be disclosed should be grasped through direct experience and guarded in secret—like following a map to find a fine horse, or like forgetting the fishing gear once you have the fish: the method is only a means; do not cling to it.

When the student sees the golden world, he should swiftly raise the supreme spiritual qi from behind, penetrate to the utmost height and distance where even light cannot reach, then let it fall and enshroud the whole spiritual realm, condensing it to the size of a grain of millet—or draw it in through the “treasure vase” (a method coordinating intent with breath), or gather it into the abdomen with intent.

Alternatively, riding this enshrouding force, one sweeps from the utmost distance in front of the body to the utmost depth, then pierces upward to the utmost height, and looks down to see one’s physical form sitting or standing amid flames—an image in visualization. Then urgently apply the formula of “forgetting heat” to enter, or use intent to gather into the abdomen; suddenly the physical form feels as if melting, and only light remains. Quickly gather with intent; again one sees a bean-sized pearl suspended in the Great Void; gather it again with intent and place it in the mysterious aperture of empty stillness (where spirit and qi return and are stored), still maintaining the clear, silent mysterious realm—then one may stop.

Another method: when the spiritual realm appears, use a slight trace of true intent to hold it, gather it to the rear, silently apply the lifting formula from behind while lifting upward, and at the same time turn both eyes upward to niwan (the upper dantian within the crown); one feels true qi there filling and swirling.

Continue guiding the qi downward with intention until you feel it fully filling one place; if you dimly perceive a brimming pool of water, you have reached Huachi (the Splendid Pool—the place under the tongue where fluid gathers). Then Jade Fluid and Golden Fluid (the refined essences produced by inner refinement) surge forth in abundance; swallow them with a gurgling sound as they pass from Chonglou (the Multi-storied Tower, the throat) to Jiangong (the Crimson Palace, where the heart resides), and you will naturally feel supreme cool refreshment. Next, guide them down further to Zhonghuang (the Central Yellow, the body’s central Cinnabar Field), and there is yet another sensation—the whole body feels full, harmonious, and flowing.

At this point you may feel two streams of qi circling left and right, while one stream rises and another descends. Once they align precisely, like needle tips meeting point to point, that is the upper force pressing down and the lower force receiving up; then they chase and yield—when you advance they retreat, when you retreat they advance—and there is also mutual entwining that must not be lost.

Here you must strictly guard against clinging and attachment, and strictly guard against ordinary, worldly thoughts. The moment desire or emotional attachment arises, these two streams of qi contend and devour each other; if desire runs wild, the three treasures—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—all turn into post-heaven turbid matter. The body will inevitably tremble, breathing will grow coarse and heavy, the external kidneys (the external genitals) will burn with heat, and you will fall into a situation that is extremely hard to recover from.

The remedy at this moment is only to lift the eyes upward and draw down true yin to suppress the fire of desire. Yet this supreme treasure has already turned post-heaven; you can only gather true fire in great concentration and below apply fierce refining and fierce firing, so that it passes again through Weilü (the tail gate at the coccyx), ascends to Niwan (the Mud Ball, the upper Dantian in the brain), descends again through Chonglou, and settles at Jiangque (the crimson gate before the heart)—thus gaining a great renewal. Otherwise this supreme treasure cannot be restored.

That is why ancient adepts did not lightly disclose this stage. Few who cultivate the Way still possess the body of a virgin youth (qingtong—a body before the gate of love has opened); once that gate has opened and practice reaches this point, how can emotional longing not stir? Moreover, this path has already been well worn; making it not rush through the pass and leak outward is doubly difficult. Only in a virgin body, with that aperture still unopened and no knowledge of such matters, when work reaches this point does one only feel spring vitality surging greatly while the spirit mechanism penetrates upward—naturally it does not flow downward, and there will never be this kind of change. Sages of old, whose nature and practice were pure and clear, undertook their work before the gate of love opened; reaching this point they too had only spring force penetrating upward without descending—never this change.

The ancients’ practice of cultivating inner nature had already reached a state of pure simplicity and clear transparency. At this stage, one must immediately draw in true Yin (cool, genuine Qi), to suppress turbid fire (restless, deviant heat). Then the crimson palace (the region of the heart) feels cool and clear; as Qi transforms and gathers downward, it is stored in the Qi cavity (the area of the lower Dantian), sealed with intention, and after a brief pause in deep stillness, one stops.

For those who begin from the “live Wu” (the moment when internal Yang is strong and heart-fire stirs—not tied to clock time), the Qian palace (the head) is most crucial: refine this current of Qi, let it descend into the jade pool (where saliva wells in the mouth), then pour it into the crimson palace. When “live Zi” (the first stir of one Yang) arrives, recognize it only by spirit; when Zi and Wu meet, rely solely on a tranquil heart-mind. Only when one has refined a fresh, clear sign is the work in measure.

If one begins from “live Zi,” then the Kun abdomen (the lower belly) is most crucial: refine this fluid and Qi until they reach the Niwan (the upper Dantian in the brain), descend to fill the jade pool, and cool the crimson palace. When “live Wu” comes, strictly guard against leaking through desire; when Wu and Zi meet, again rely only on a tranquil heart-mind. Only when one has refined a full, harmonious sign is the work in measure.

With eyes closed, looking inward, all sorts of marvelous visions will appear; the essential point of the method is not to cling to them. As practice deepens step by step, the visions change accordingly—too many to tell—simply do not let the mind linger on them.

When Qi reaches the Kun position, feeling warmth counts as genuine progress; when Qi penetrates upward from behind, reaches the crown, and descends into the crimson palace, feeling cool counts as genuine progress. That is the general idea. Only those who in inner contemplation (neiguan) can avoid falling into duality and unite as one—“two” meaning the two eyes, “one” meaning the Tianmu (the inner “eye” at the brow for contemplation)—wholly experience and comprehend by spirit alone. This is the method of the celestial immortal; those who can do it should cultivate accordingly.

Master Taixu said: In our cultivation, what matters most is to align fully with the timing of Heaven. The earlier detailed explanation of the “living noon” (huó wǔ)—the moment when true Yin holds sway in the body, not noon on the clock—was given because if living noon is not understood, true Yin is lost in vain. Even if one can practice at the “living zi” (huó zǐ), when Yang qi first stirs within, without true Yin to nourish and hold it, when the work reaches the stage where spirit can be refined and transformed, that spirit will inevitably scatter.

The cool refreshment, jade-and-gold visions, and similar signs described in alchemical books all come after the work of living zi; therefore they especially mark out “true Yin.” This is the teaching of refining Yang to obtain Yin—yet within it is hidden the secret of refining Yin to obtain Yang. It is not that the method is withheld so people cannot practice; rather, practitioners are already led to do it without the text stating it plainly.

The Twelve Double-Hour Secret has always been closely guarded by sages of old. I speak of it directly now because the true Way has long been unclear: students often follow outward traces alone and do not know the definite signs on this stretch of the path. With no firm grasp at the start, they are like the blind without a staff and easily turn aside midway and give up. I also know that your karmic affinity is deep and wide, and that you can forget self for others. If this secret were not passed on, this assembly would be in vain and the true Way would be cut off.

Should someone of great capacity meet you, hear the Twelve Double-Hour Secret, and then ask clearly about living year, living month, living day, and living hour—all judged by the body’s inner climate, not by the fixed calendar— and cultivate accordingly in one thorough pass, then even if life later interrupts them, when they resume they will know where to begin and what the completion looks like, without doubt, and their earlier work will not be blocked. To have all this clear in mind before advancing—what joy could be greater?

The meaning of “living” cannot be forced out of deliberate, contrived action; yet it is also often missed in sheer non-doing. Only one who grasps the two lines “usefulness within the useful that is useless” and “applying effort within the achievement of Wuwei (non-action)” will not go wrong—and what they gain will be real.

Why not verify this against the alchemical classics? The scripture says: “When the external kidney (the genitals in Daoist bodily terminology) rises without thought, that is Yang arising”—and again: “This is living zi.” From this you can see: when the external kidney swells greatly without desire or thought, the body has already reached living noon; only then to gather and seize is to take something that is no longer true Yang. For nourishing life it may still suffice; to rely on that for completing the Way—is that not exceedingly hard?

This passage explains why practitioners go wrong. They do not understand how the inner mechanism first stirs and first appears, and what happens when it stirs and appears again; when yang qi has just returned they fail to nurture it, and wait until high noon before gathering—because they do not grasp the ancients’ method of “contracting the characters” (adjusting fixed clock-hours to match when qi actually arrives in one’s body), and still cling to a fixed zi hour (midnight). So they err and still do not realize it; even if they practice as the books say, they are already wrong halfway through.

Timid people who cling to received formulas even stop gathering, thinking yang that has “passed its hour” cannot be gathered. They do not know that moment is still like the moon before true fullness (not yet truly too late, still within reach); to abandon gathering then is error piled on error.

Alas! The reason predecessors stressed “living wu” (wu not by the clock but when qi actually shows as noon in the body) again and again is that living wu is a great hinge of cultivation; without understanding what is going on, one misses ten times out of ten. I see that among refined elders, where they gained strength was mostly at living zi (the living zi hour when qi first moves), and where they lost footing, it was invariably at living wu. Why? Insufficient work on nature (cultivation of mind-nature and spirit-intent); nature is pulled by emotion. This is not only when numinous visions appear; students often lose it when wandering thoughts suddenly surge. When in seated meditation thoughts cloud up like waves, that is verification that living wu has arrived in the body. Then to quit sitting, or to sit without gathering-in, or to gather-in yet fail to settle—all are losing the gate.

Just at noon, every pathway opens together; strange realms all show, every subtlety stands out, everything in one’s allotted life appears and hides nothing. Generally, those whose life-work (cultivation of essence, qi, and the life-aspect) is full must manifest more finely; and not only what can be heard as sound—the showing must be more subtle still. People of old who knew themselves, when practice reached wu, kept eyelids half lowered, eyes as if they had no eyes, and relied wholly on spirit-intent to harmonize qi until it returned to quiet balance, stopping when there was a place for Qi (refined breath in practice) to lodge.

These manifestations are not merely sounds and visual forms. Above, one may see jade pavilions and rosy halls in heavenly palaces, with jade maidens, golden boys, miraculous flowers, and fairy herbs beyond counting. Even when middle or lower grades of realm appear, they are always famous mountains and scenic places—sometimes with female musicians offered, sometimes with immortal fare set out. The lowest grade of spirit-realm still surpasses the mundane world; the beauty of its figures and the refinement of its furnishings are enough to bewilder the heart at a glance. If one stirs with feeling even once or becomes attached, one stalls and cannot break through, delaying ascent and realization of the fruit—like clinging to the Tuṣita Heaven of Buddhist cosmology. Further down, the spirit stagnates at the Mud Pill Palace (upper dantian), and there is no hope of “delivering the fetus” (the spirit completing its formation and leaving the mortal shell). In the gravest case, the dwelling is seized by demons and the spirit itself is devoured. All of this comes from not understanding the key to the “living noon” (huowu)—the living moment of noon when yang peaks and the medicine should be gathered in internal alchemy.

Taixu (the predecessor who transmitted this practice) also said: When skill reaches the stage where truth and illusion shift without rest, manifestations may already appear though one is not yet fully aligned. If one can command qi and mind-intent and add further work of concentration and stillness, then within half a watch pull the circulation back to true noon, and a golden world will appear, shining upon the eyes and heart. This is the skill of Li Shaojun’s “the sun at the west returns to the center again.” At this time the “medicine” (the refined essence produced in inner practice) is at its fullest; then, with intent, gather it in—it will naturally transform into true qi; again with intent, hold it and receive it into the Original Aperture (the single innate opening), and only then is it called obtaining the medicine. Among successive patriarchs of the Southern School, those who fully succeeded on this basis include the King of Huainan, Wei Boyang, and the two perfected ones Ge and Xu; with further practice of such formulas as Baoti, one could “ascend with the whole household” in a single leap. My teacher Mud Pill Elder practiced this skill but did not lightly employ it; I also tried it myself and obtained the verification of the six-day trembling. My teacher stopped me and would not let me carry the practice through to the end. You should treasure it in secrecy and transmit it to others only when the time is right.

If in practice one sees collapsing walls, ruined houses, and other signs of decay, that is verification that the practitioner’s yang qi is weak and yin is damaged. The remedy is only this: in every thought revere the true Dao; in every act conform to the precepts; moreover guard the Life Gate (mingmen, at the kidneys); at the same time cultivate the work of “empty heart” until the belly is truly full; and strictly avoid worry and evil thoughts. This too is the secret handed down from ancient sages for taking up practice from the living noon.

The old master also said: In our cultivation work, we should take the ancient sages, immortals, and Buddhas as our model. We must refine xing (nature) in activity and refine ming (life) in stillness. Do not be like worldly scholars, who only apply themselves when sitting cross-legged in meditation. Because they do exactly that, nine out of ten fail; the ancient masters were not like that, so a hundred refinements yield a hundred successes.

Those who wish to learn the Way should begin by making the body one with empty space: take the empty space of heaven and earth as the Dharma body (the true essence), take this physical body as the spirit chamber of the heavenly heart (the primordial heart), and take this fleshly heart as the master of the heavenly heart. Without thoughts of liking and disliking, grasping and rejecting, approaching and avoiding, and the like—entirely free of entanglements, with no wandering mind—simply maintain empty openness, without clarity or obscurity; what is meant by vast and flowing, neither biased nor slanted. Straighten the body, empty the inner heart, and let thoughts be sincere; only then do you not waste this fine opportunity.

When the work reaches the living zi (the moment when yang qi stirs into life—not a fixed clock-hour of Zi), do not miss nurturing it; when it reaches the living wu (the moment fit for gathering and storing), you can gather the elixir and obtain the secret. Alas! If this body is not liberated in this very life, in which life will you liberate this body?

Ancient sages said that when the anterior pass—the orifices at the front of the body—is closed and the heart’s qi descends, real progress in practice begins with the work of “summer” and “autumn.” They also said that opening the posterior pass—the orifices through which qi rises behind the body—counts as only half the work; contracting Gen (here, tightening the lower posterior barrier) and opening Qian (here, opening the crown) is the genuine achievement.

Qi cannot rise backward because muddy essence clogs the meridians and orifices. The remedy is to fix Shen’s attention on the Kun abdomen (the belly), so that Qi returns to the Mingmen (Gate of Life at the waist, traditionally taken as the seat of the body’s inner fire). When that fire is strong, Qi grows warm; muddy essence, warmed, melts like water, the channels and orifices cease to stagnate, and qi naturally penetrates backward.

Qi normally runs along the meridians; when a channel is blocked, qi stalls. What blocks them is the Jing (essence) that qi once carried along in its flow. Qi fails to rise because Jing has settled and accumulated within it; Jing accumulates because qi is not warm; qi is not warm because the Mingmen is weak; the Mingmen fire weakens because Shen no longer holds its post. Jing moves only by means of qi, and qi is warmed only by means of Shen. When Shen is strong, qi is warm; when Shen is weak, qi turns cold. Cold qi makes Jing congeal without transforming—it becomes phlegm in the body, filling the meridians until every orifice is blocked. At that point one can neither cultivate the Great Dao nor even briefly preserve life and nature (xingming). The way back is to heat the Kun abdomen to the utmost.

Jing, when driven by vigorous qi, is like clouds on a dry wind: rising they become bright clouds, falling they are like dew. Driven by weak qi, it is like mist on a damp wind: rising it turns into stagnant clouds, falling it becomes rain. Worse still, when yin essence flows down and lingers in the bladder, a moment’s warming by the ministerial fire (the fire said to dwell in the liver and kidneys) easily sends it leaking outward—another grave harm of being held below. If qi carries it through the body’s myriad channels, contact with wind-fire can produce abscesses or paralysis; or, accumulating over time, it turns to fire and becomes bone-steaming consumption. The world’s wasting, consumptive illnesses largely arise from this substance. That is why the ancients warned that in nurturing and replenishing this fire, such serious evils lie beneath.

When such matter is driven and dispersed by meridian qi into the countless fine channels throughout the body, any encounter with wind or fire can turn it into abscesses and sores, or cause paralysis; if it smolders long enough it becomes fire and turns into bone-steaming fever—the kind of hollow, wasting heat that feels as if the bones themselves are being steamed. The world’s consumptive illnesses and debilitation from overwork largely arise from this. The ancients worried about it, which is why they taught “nurturing fire.”

Nurturing fire means simply settling the mind in the lower abdomen (Kun, earth, images the belly) and letting Qi—the pre-heaven subtle breath—return to the Mingmen (the gate of life between the two kidneys). The fire at the Mingmen cannot be seen, yet the body can feel it; it is the root of spirit fire. When Mingmen fire is strong, the essence refined from food and drink can be transformed into qi; when intention is then directed to the lower abdomen, what is too dry is replenished by the true earth (the genuine qi of spleen earth), what is too moist is used to moisten the hundred bones and to nourish the breath, thereby nurturing the thunder yang (the yang qi imaged by Zhen, the Arousing). The work of true fire is indeed great.

Day after day we digest food without ever understanding how to nurture fire. The fine channels may suffer less, but the bladder is where this matter especially accumulates. When yin cannot transform into yang, the harm will be as described above—how can one not pay special heed? If qi does not rise from the back, one is not far from this calamity. When qi does not ascend from behind, any upward movement must go by the front; if qi escapes through the front, the harm is greater: in mild cases liver qi flares; in severe cases pathogenic qi surges upward as leg-foot qi (the disease qi rushing into the legs and feet). Outbreaks tend to come in spring; a spring onset may still be manageable, but a summer onset is fierce.

This is because turbid essence turns into phlegm and first blocks the central palace (spleen and stomach), so qi cannot descend and be distributed; what occasionally does flow down with qi, because Mingmen fire is weak, congeals and obstructs the lower body. Once the Weilü point (at the tip of the spine) is blocked, the Jiaji region, the crown, and the occiput will surely be blocked too; the Ren and Du vessels then close entirely, and the disaster is beyond reckoning.

To guard against this in advance, one must also practice the Gen work of restraint and contraction (drawing in and lifting, aligned with Gen, mountain and stopping—in cultivation, gathering the lower body and not letting qi leak outward), gathering “ministers and subjects” (the body as a state: ministers are the functions of the viscera, subjects are the subtle essences) to assist in nurturing and replenishing, so that true fire at the Mingmen grows vigorous. Use it to warm the middle and lower regions, and yin essence will day by day melt away of itself; when true qi swells in power, employ it to burst open the passes, penetrate the meridians, and clear the channels. Persist without break through the first seven days, the second seven, on through the seventh seven (forty-nine days); when what had stagnated front and back is dissolved and the Ren and Du are open, the benefit is not merely recovery from illness.

If one seeks only to open the qi channels yet fails to nourish and support them, the old stagnant turbidity still remains in the meridians and orifices—one merely feels comfortable for a while. The root cause is a mind that settles for ease and complacency; in truth yang qi is weak and one’s strength insufficient, so rousing the spirit and guiding the practice feel arduous. Old habits are hard to reverse, and one ends up in this state—how lamentable! We who aspire to cultivate should earnestly guard against this.

Only after the qi has flowed freely, the yin essence has been transformed, and former ailments have been cleared may one undertake the threefold practice; within this there are specific methods. From the Zi hour through the Si hour (roughly eleven at night to eleven the next morning—the six hours when yang rises): one should lift the buttocks, bend forward, extend the neck, contract the Gen region (the lower root), twenty-four breaths; then draw the qi upward to Qian (the head), with the spirit resting in the Mud Palace (the upper dantian in the brain), six breaths; then sit with the body level and the abdomen relaxed and settled, six breaths. Thirty-six breaths in all, cycled through these six hours. From the Wu hour through the Hai hour (roughly eleven in the morning to eleven at night): one should press the abdomen with the hands, straighten the waist, tilt the head slightly back and let the mind rest empty, sixteen breaths; with the spirit resting in the Kun belly (the lower abdomen, the Kun furnace), four breaths; then as before level and align the body, each breath returning to the navel center, four breaths. Twenty-four breaths in all, likewise cycled through these six hours.

The ancients said: from Zi to Si one should advance the yang fire; when yang is vigorous it rises, and when yang rises, vital animation stirs. From Wu to Hai one should retreat the yin tally; when yin substance melts it descends, and after descending, what was formerly blocked begins to move. They also said: the head is the Qian cauldron, the heart is the chamber of spirit, the belly is the Kun furnace. The heart is where qi is stored; the belly is where nature and life meet and the elixir ingredients arise. The heart should be empty, the belly should be full. If the heart is not empty, thoughts scatter and qi grows chaotic; old accumulation cannot dissolve downward and turns into phlegm and rheum. If the belly is not full, qi is vacuous and stagnation sets in; essence and fluids cannot be smelted and transformed, and seminal leakage results. Students should remember this.

Why align the body upright? Know that regarding the Ren and Du vessels: if the body is not straight and true, qi will be obstructed; once upright, qi meets no barrier and the channels throughout the body flow freely—this matter is no small one. Students should remember this.

Why straighten the body? You should know the Ren and Du meridians—the two channels that run along the front and back midline of the body respectively: if the body is not held straight, the flow of Qi is blocked; once the body is straight, Qi moves without obstruction and the hundred channels connect smoothly—a matter of no small importance.

When you first practice this method, Qi is not easy to send downward; you may often feel it surging upward, or feel distension, stagnation, or soreness in front or behind. All of this is because there is still stagnation in the channel network that has not cleared; as channel Qi strikes through and penetrates it, discomfort appears—and that is precisely the sign that opening is near. At such times you should promptly add practices such as “lifting the buttocks” to drive Qi into the Du meridian, then use “empty heart, full belly” to drive Qi into the Ren meridian. When Ren and Du are greatly opened, the earlier discomfort naturally subsides.

After Ren and Du are open, apart from the major method of circulating and refining at the Wu (noon) and Zi (midnight) hours, you must also continue “lifting the buttocks,” “empty heart,” and related skills after obtaining the medicine (the refined essence produced in Neidan), and add the straight-body method—refining while nourishing—then in three years the work can be completed.

Why make the heart empty? If the heart is not empty, Qi and Shen scatter and pour out with each thought; the thread of principle is lost, regulation has no order, and the work is hard to carry on. Once the heart is empty, Qi is gathered into one; even if stagnation remains, when Qi arrives it opens at once, and the work is easier to show results. There are further subtle uses besides.

If you are doing work to open the Ren meridian, after finishing you must perform the method “sinking the belly and clarifying the Shen.” Without it, there is the image of Kan Yang sinking into Yin (Kan is Water yet holds one Yang line within—here meaning Yang Qi sinking downward), and you easily fall into dullness and sleepiness. With this method in place, Qi is calm and Shen is clear; at this time you can also obtain the effect of “the one spirit alone revealed.”

If you are doing work to open the Du meridian, after finishing you must perform the method “preserving dryness and washing the marrow.” Without it, what has risen already mixes with turbid Qi; you often get head distension and red eyes, and restless thoughts can stir thunder Yang, inviting the danger of thunder shock and the scattering of Shen and Qi. With this method, such calamities do not arise at all; even if you only have distension and dizziness, a little “empty relaxation” and “retreat and penetrate” will make the discomfort disappear on its own. The subtle uses here truly cannot be fully told.

Taixu also said: After you have eaten your fill, you must never let the abdomen sag downward, nor should you immediately walk quickly or engage in strenuous activity. The secret lies solely in keeping the heart empty and relaxed. When food has just begun to settle slightly, you need only keep the spirit guarded between heart and abdomen, avoid exertion, and simply walk slowly while gently rubbing the abdomen with your hands. Only after the food that has settled has been digested may you undertake more forceful activity.

Ancient cultivators said: After meals, practice should be of the "literary" (wen) kind; they also said: After eating, add emptiness of heart—when the heart is empty, food is easily digested. People take food and drink as the root of life, yet the origin of illness often lies in food lingering in the middle palace (where spleen and stomach reside), turning into phlegm and fluid retention; diseases such as regurgitation arise from this. If after eating one adds violent movement, the grain follows the qi in its circulation, sinks, stagnates, and accumulates in the lowest parts of the body, and becomes the cause of anal abscess and hemorrhoids; turbid qi that stagnates in the channels becomes the cause of paralysis and similar disorders. Such stagnation that adheres to the joints, over time transforming into fire, can also become consumption, bone-steaming fever, and the like.

What the ancients meant by "literary" was nothing more than keeping the spirit at the middle pole (lower center of the abdomen) and fixing intention at the Mingmen (Life Gate at the lower back). If one adds a downward-sagging practice on top of that, what is used becomes "martial" (wu)—precisely what invites illness—so it must be avoided. What is the secret of empty heart? It is simply to release and relax the qi mechanism. So-called slow walking contains the function of helping the spleen transform and move food; so-called abdominal rubbing contains the meaning of gathering the grain-qi back and guiding it, by fire, to transform into refined qi (the subtle breath in cultivation).

After food has been fully digested, one must still perform another practice called "contracting Gen" (suo Gen). What is the secret of contracting Gen? It is like holding back urination and defecation—used to retain the grain-qi so it neither leaks outward nor stagnates downward. Of this product of food and drink, the clear portion rises with the qi and becomes blood, spreading to fill and nourish the vessels of the whole body; the turbid portion descends with the qi and moistens the intestines and stomach. Once it loses the warming nurture of the spirit, it turns into yin-cold fluid and harms the entire body. Therefore the ancients invariably paid close attention to this.

When the Shen (spirit) is settled in the zhonggong (middle palace—the body’s central region, associated with the middle Dantian), if the chest feels tight and full, sincerely use intention to guide the Qi: let it descend along the right side of the chest, circle the qilun (navel wheel—the energetic wheel centered on the navel), then rise on the left in an arc, pass around the navel, and descend again on the right. This is called the “Retreat Yin Fu” (tui yin fu)—guiding excess Qi along a path of retreat. At such times grain Qi (gu qi—the Qi generated from food and drink) is too strong, so this retreating circulation is used. As soon as you feel a little relief, stop this exercise and apply only the single key of xuxin (empty heart): empty the mind without forcing, and ease will come naturally. Gradually you may see a hazy, mist-like scene before the mind’s eye—an early sign that grain Qi is beginning to steam and transform. When that scene seems to spread through the whole body, grain Qi is riding its central Qi (zhong qi) and circulating everywhere. Then the chest feels clear and smooth, though the belly may still feel full. Once food has descended in the digestive tract, you may add turning to the left, center, and right.

Follow this method strictly, moving with the nasal breath: when the breath favors the left, turn left; when it is central, turn to the center; when it favors the right, turn right. The principle is subtle; the method is recorded only in brief formulas. Ancient sages hinted at this practice but did not fully explain it—they only said to turn according to the oral instructions. (The old method follows whether the out-breath from the nose goes left or right. The nose has only two nostrils; out-breath is naturally left or right—how could there be breath from the exact center? What is called “center” is both nostrils exhaling together; that is central Qi. Human nasal breathing aligns with celestial time and can always be checked; the old method does not deceive. Zi hour leans left, chou hour right, yin left, mao right, alternating by the hour without error; at the junction of two hours, both nostrils breathe out together. The count of out-breaths increases noticeably only at zi and wu hours; at other hours it is roughly the same.)

This method of circulation works as follows: when Qi issues from the left side, it descends from the left chest, curves around the abdomen toward the right, and when it reaches a point about two inches above the navel, you press inward once so it runs straight against the Mingmen (the life gate between the two kidneys, at the lower back). This is called advancing the yang fire—the timing that pushes and refines ascending Yang. Those deficient in Yang Qi usually stop at thirty-six revolutions. When Qi issues from the right side, it descends from the right chest, curves around the abdomen toward the left, and at the same spot about two inches above the navel you press inward once, sending it straight to the lower Dantian (lower energy center) without touching the Mingmen. This is called retreating the yin talisman—the timing that gathers and stores Yin. Those deficient in Yin Qi usually stop at twenty-four revolutions.

When both openings emit Qi together, it is called central Qi. It runs from the crimson palace (the heart region, also called the crimson hall) straight to the central yellow (the middle Dantian, the place of spleen earth at the body’s center). There it turns left thirty-six times and right twenty-four times around the navel wheel; again at about two inches above the navel you press inward once and send it directly into the mysterious aperture (the single pass of the yinguan). With no thought and no worry, you stop after a short while—this is called sealing the furnace, so Qi does not scatter. If you can keep this practice unbroken through all twelve double-hours, it is a great secret method. When you suddenly enter the Zhun-Meng qi configuration (the first stirring of chaos pictured in the Zhun and Meng hexagrams), that is the sign of the spirit wandering the water mansion (the spirit resting in the lower Dantian, the kidney-water domain).

At this stage you must quickly apply the formula of empty clarity, and all the more fix the spirit in the Kun belly (the lower abdomen), while performing contraction at Gen (gathering the perineum and coccyx region). Then the fire in the lower field will stir. Wait until Qi in the upper and middle regions responds; you must on no account pull it upward too soon. In practice you only let it descend in front, and also help Qi to rush and break through from behind. Once it bursts open the pass and shows through toward the back, it will surge over the spine, pass through the pillow region (the Jade Pillow at the back of the skull), and rise; after a brief pause it can naturally descend to the Flower Pool (where saliva wells in the mouth).

Then you must redouble effort to still the heart. Sweet dew will surely descend in abundance; when the mouth is full, swallow in several portions and you will feel true Qi in the crimson palace settle and condense. Next follow the formula of “forgetting,” and you will reach the subtle state of having a body yet as if bodiless. Suddenly you may feel a drop fall from emptiness straight onto the heart, with a sensation of great coolness; then another drop falls to the central yellow, feeling extremely warm, as if the whole body were in spring. This means grain Qi (the post-heaven Qi from food and drink) has already transformed into supreme treasure.

At this stage of practice, one simply waits quietly in a state of neither knowing nor not knowing—this is called “gathering the treasure back into the furnace” (xibao guilu); alchemical texts call it “the treasure returns to chaos” (bao gui hundun). Those who study the Way have not yet reached the stage of bigu (abstaining from grain); how can this stretch of work be neglected day after day? Because success lies here—and so does misfortune.

Why must the first step of cultivating the Way begin with the key instruction “make the body equal to empty space”? Because this empty space is the root of heaven and earth, and also one’s own ultimate ground. Entering through this one true image, every subsequent method can align with the Dao. Look closely at practice: nowhere is it not “taking heaven and earth as the dharma body” (the whole body of what one relies upon). The method is first to relax and broaden the flow of qi (the movement of breath and vital life). When qi is broad, nothing blocks the middle; then one can take the body as lead and the heart as mercury (body essence and mind-spirit), samadhi as water and prajna as fire—and there is no real difficulty.

Moreover, the empty parts of the body are heaven and the solid parts are earth; heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys correspond to jing, shen, hun, po, and yi—in heaven and earth to Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, and in the Dao to benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. Their function is nothing but remedying imbalance; outwardly it is nothing beyond the two meanings of samadhi and prajna. Some say samadhi is the substance of the Dao and prajna is its function—that is half right and half wrong. Samadhi is spoken of relative to “not settled”; prajna relative to “not clear”—in strict terms, both belong to the functioning of the Dao. The Dao is naturally pure and one, yet holds all things; it spans past and present yet is like still emptiness—likened to the Taiji (the undivided origin before yin and yang), which is roughly apt. When things come, one meets them—that is prajna; when they go, one does not chase—that is samadhi. Only sages fully achieve this. In our practice we only seek to become somewhat like this: hard at first, then doable, finally naturally close. The method is nothing outside self-restraint (keji): in quiet times, clarify the ordinary mind; in activity, clarify the mind amid change.

My master Master Taixu said: If one takes empty space alone as the dharma body and does not take the physical body (serious body) as the spirit chamber of the Heavenly Heart (the innate luminous mind), one falls into hollow emptiness with no master in the middle—that is a heterodox path. Hence the ancient sages had to link on with this key instruction; fearing still a fall into the cold heterodox path, they further took the flesh heart as the heart of the Heavenly Heart. This shows that the Heavenly Heart is never dim: round, pure, roundly awake—so in responding and dismissing there is no partiality, yet it all arises naturally and qi naturally fills. Following this to cultivate the body’s lead and mercury, samadhi and prajna as water and fire—apart from this one thought with no other thoughts mixed in—that is “thought within no-thought.” If even this one thought is removed, it is like boiling an empty pot with water and fire—a cold, unfeeling heterodox path. Those who aspire to the celestial immortals should investigate this together.

When we examine how the ancient sages practiced, cultivation begins with wuwang (non-delusion—keeping the mind free of false, wandering thoughts). In our effort we may provisionally treat ding (concentration) and hui (insight) as two aspects and work with them separately. The method likewise starts from wuwang: taking wuwang as ding, and taking the immediate sweeping away of delusive thoughts the moment they arise as hui. The sequence is: first remove coarse, heavy delusion; then remove subtle delusion; finally remove even the subtle delusion of clinging to “being without delusion,” until natural purity and unity are achieved—only then is the work complete.

First earnestly establish this true intent as the true seed within your Celestial Heart (the innate original mind)—this is called cultivating the upper gate directly (the higher work that leans toward xing, nature, and the spirit). Names such as forming the embryo, nurturing the embryo, and birthing the embryo need not be pursued for now. The ancients embedded deep meaning in these terms; they merely mark stages and levels so one does not leap ahead rashly. Push the direction to its limit and it is nothing but “remove delusion, preserve truth”; examine the oral formulas and they are nothing but using shouyi (holding to the One) to sweep away the myriad thoughts; infer the method and it proceeds from shallow to deep, checking each stage-name against actual practice, refining further and verifying the more subtle with the subtle, until at the extreme it returns to wuzhu (non-abiding—the mind not fixed on any point). And the key of wuzhu is what must be upheld from beginning to end.

This true seed takes xing (nature) as its substance and ming (life) as its function: concentrate and nourish it, smelt it until it returns to oneness, then refine it with shen (spirit), and follow this ever deeper until it merges with the pre-manifest primordial origin without the slightest distinction. With such a Dao-body, function is naturally marvelous. Yet none of this fails to begin with wuwang or to run through the whole course with it. This is precisely the painstaking intent behind the ancients’ many titles and headings. Later students who did not understand instead became attached because of them, added all kinds of wrong views, and were led astray. Only one who grasps this aim may take various alchemical books as confirmation; otherwise it is better to set them aside.

In my youth I was passionately devoted to furnace work (external alchemy, waidan), yet after a hundred attempts I never succeeded once.

(This refers to the worldly tradition of using furnaces and cauldrons—the so-called huangbai art of turning ordinary objects into gold and silver through medicinal transmutation. Such things do exist, but the formulas are all given in coded names; without a master’s guidance one cannot obtain them. What is recorded in the Baopuzi (by Ge Hong) belongs to this category. The Master’s words here point to exactly this.)

But I have heard that what the Master practiced in the early Yuan drew on the method of Patriarch Jingyang Xu (Xu Xun). The approach uses medicines as a medium to summon Qian Qi and Kun Qi—the yang of Heaven and the yin of Earth—to accomplish huangbai. Thus the furnace is no ordinary furnace, nor the cauldron an ordinary cauldron; one simply cultivates the Way where one dwells, and no trace of furnace or cauldron is visible. Those on Mount Gushu could all do this. Whenever that power arrived, lightning flashed and thunder rolled; when the work was done, tiles and dishes at once became gold and silver. The gold thus refined could endure ten thousand years without the slightest change. Patriarch Zichun Mei of our mountain also performed this in the reigns of Emperor Huizong and Emperor Qinzong of the Northern Song; the record appears in Han Jichou’s Record of the Three Mountains Pavilion.

This is the Dao, not a mere technique. My master, Patriarch Taixu, received this method from Patriarch Niwan Li. Fearing its misuse—that is, abuse that would provoke heavenly punishment—he took the lesson of those who studied under the Jingyang Xu lineage as a warning. As for what the Baopuzi describes, it is only the medicinal method, which could mislead people five hundred years later; aspirants should be on guard. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) did not practice this method; my master forcibly destroyed what he had obtained—truly an act of compassion.

I have other matters I heard and saw with my own eyes; if I do not speak of them, I would fail my good friend Feng Yunbiao. Master Feng was from Panyu. Seeing my bold and unrestrained nature, he said: “With spending like yours, your family fortune is bound to decline; yet your bold temperament will remain as before—you will surely fall into the arts of the yushi (Daoist adepts), and still not regret it.” I pressed him earnestly again and again before he sighed and said: “There is huangbai craft in the world—do you know of it?” I replied: “That is the supreme Dao, not a technique; it is only that ordinary people cannot practice it.”

I pressed him again and again with earnest questions, until at last the gentleman sighed and said: Do you know the transmutation arts of huangbai shu—the methods of external alchemy for turning base matter into gold and silver? I replied: That is the highest Dao, not an ordinary technique; it is simply beyond what most people can accomplish. He said: The pharmacological method I know did not originate in China. It came from lands east and west of us; Daoist priests in Fujian and Guangdong know it fairly well. I learned it from a priest and also had it checked against what Dutch tribute envoys taught. It works every time. One can carry gold and silver worth a million and travel ten thousand li alone—yet in truth it is only a matter of taking the metal’s hun and discarding its po (in external alchemy, metals were thought to have a light, refined hun and a heavy, turbid po).

This method originally came from divine beings and was meant to rescue people in distress; today it has become a means for misguided folk to amass and hoard wealth.

The five metals all have hun and po. With about eight liang of the medicine, one can extract roughly one liang of gold’s hun. The difficulty of extracting hun follows a hierarchy: gold is harder than silver, silver than copper, copper than iron, iron than lead. The method for iron does not work in China; what survives in transmission today is only for gold and silver.

He had me take ten liang of silver, put it in a Guangzhou jar, and melt it over a brazier, then cover it with pine resin. When the flame died, we took it out to cool: white and lusterless, and when struck it shattered into something extremely loose and light. He said: This is the po that remains. Then he put it back in the jar and fired it fiercely so it would congeal without melting; covered it again with pine resin, added saltpeter and sulfur, and the sound was like thunder in the yin. He said: It is done. When we examined it after cooling, it shone brilliantly; the gold we obtained weighed the same as the original silver. He added: It is a pity we did not add lead’s po—otherwise the weight could have increased by about one liang. We treated it again as at first, put it in the jar and covered it; when the flame went out it was still the white substance, and on weighing, the amount had not diminished at all.

He laughed loudly and said: Well? You see how marvelous this pharmacological method is. Sometimes the crucible flies and the furnace bursts—that too comes from extracting the hun. From then on, sir, you need not sink yourself further into this art. What I saw with my own eyes I kept firmly in mind; because a zhenren (an accomplished Daoist) spoke of it, I wrote it down to inform fellow practitioners.

Some also invoke the account of Xuanyuan (the Yellow Emperor) casting the Nine Tripods and thereby attaining the Dao, and conclude that one must employ nine tripod vessels as the crucible for refining and nurturing. I myself once practiced with arrangements of five and seven tripods, yet gained nothing from it. The moment a person’s thought stirs, the innate pre-heaven simplicity is scattered. Once the pre-heaven is lost, the post-heaven may still remain—but what good does that do for body and mind? At best it merely strengthens the four elements (the physical body formed from earth, water, fire, and wind). People this ignorant cannot grasp that Heaven does not speak, yet the four seasons turn and the myriad things grow—that is the subtlety. The transformation wrought in the human body follows the same pattern as heaven and earth, yet they do not know why heaven is clear or earth is at rest, nor what truly presides over transformation. If one understands taking purity and stillness as the substance, settled mind (mental stability) as the foundation, the heavenly heart (the single point of pre-heaven governing clarity) as the master, and the primordial spirit (the inherent spirit one receives at birth) as the active power—so that the Three Mutual Appropriations (as in the Yinfu jing: “when the three appropriations are fitting”) harmonize with one another, one returns to celestial truth, reverts the mandate and returns to the root (coming back to the root of life)—then why fear that one will not reach the sage’s state?

Here the word “appropriation” (dao) should be read by the Three Sovereigns’ character-splitting formula: placing “thing” (wu) inside “vessel” (min)—meaning to store up and guard. The Three Appropriations refer to heaven and earth, the myriad things, and humanity mutually taking from and supporting one another; in this sense the stress is on accumulating and protecting, not on ordinary theft.

When it comes to the matter of the “ding” (cauldron), even if one truly gains something from it, the benefit is no more than dispelling illness and extending life; used wrongly, it does more harm than good. Cultivation in the Immortal and Buddhist traditions has absolutely nothing to do with this, and there is no such principle in them. Why? Because that path forfeits formless images and dissipates bodiless authenticity, and in the end one cannot step outside the realm of things with form. Nowadays many people, hearing phrases like “the double White Tigers nurtured in two sevens,” assume fourteen cauldrons are required. Alas! How could they know that the “two sevens” mean gathering the auxiliary conditions for practice—that is, the subtle application spoken of in the classics as “treading the sky’s light, breathing to nurture clarity”? As for “understanding long life through flower and wine,” they likewise fix on it as a literal cauldron. They fail to see that it is only a figure for “when the moon is full the jade pistil appears; when the moon wanes the golden flower fades,” and for the saying that at the juncture of the Kun and Fu hexagrams, “the pre-heaven and post-heaven qi are constantly as if drunk.” The immortals also say “every household has it”—how could that mean using men and women as cauldrons? It means harmonizing with light and blending with dust, nurturing true lead (the refined essence and qi of inner alchemy) amid ordinary marketplaces, applying method together with “wealth,” so that great results can appear. Those who have not met a true master all mistake the male and female body for the cauldron—a thing truly lamentable. Those with affinity who meet a true master, devote themselves to gathering and refining, and the Golden Elixir can be achieved in stability. Fellow practitioners should read this book again and again and not be misled by the blind and ignorant.

Postscript to the Portrait of the Perfected Zhang Sanfeng

The Perfected Master Sanfeng, surnamed Zhang, given name Junbao, also called Quanyi, was born with a nature unlike ordinary people. When he discussed the classics of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism with others, ideas poured forth like a river breaking its banks. His teaching was devoted to guiding the world through loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and righteousness. Our dynasty’s founding sovereign, the August Emperor…

Master Sanfeng’s surname was Zhang and his given name Junbao; he also styled himself Quanyi. He was born with extraordinary gifts. When he spoke of the classics of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, his words poured forth like a river in flood. What he taught was devoted above all to urging people toward loyalty, filial piety, humaneness, and righteousness.

In our dynasty, the founding emperor, the August Hongwu, sent eminent Daoists from the three sacred mountains to search in every direction, yet they never found him. When Emperor Yongle came to the throne, he dispatched envoys with a letter addressed “To the True Immortal Zhang Sanfeng”; he also sent the supervising secretary of the Ministry of Rites Hu Fen, the Daoist registrar Ren Yiyou, and the commander of the Minzhou Guard Yang Yongwang to seek him in various places. Still they did not find him, so he specially ordered the Zhengyi Daoist Zhang Biyun to build a palace on Wudang Mountain and wait there. In the Tianshun reign he was posthumously granted the title Lord of Penetrating Subtlety and Manifest Transformation, together with an imperial patent of appointment. Cui Hu, who stood in attendance at his side, was the master’s senior disciple. These matters appear in the Yitong Jizhuan, the Shuanghuai Suichao, and other printed editions.

Some people write his name as “Sanfeng” with the character for “peak” (feng meaning summit)—that is wrong. Sanfeng as “three peaks” is the title of an ancient book with no named author; it treats heterodox techniques, and the master would never have taken that as his style. This colophon follows the portrait of the True Man in the Xuantan Ji; we do not know who wrote it, but it is recorded here as it stands.

The world treats Sanfeng “harvest” dual cultivation as the master’s method, not knowing that in that lore “the three peaks” means a woman’s mouth, breasts, and yin aperture, whereas the master’s style is Sanfeng with the character for “abundant” (feng meaning fullness of spirit). The refined essence of the pre-heaven state is called “three abundances,” taking the fullness of the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—and the pronunciation happens to match. Moreover the master lived in the early Ming; the Jinyang Stone Casket Record had already sharply condemned Sanfeng “nurturing the female” arts; immortals such as Guangda, Niwang, and Yuchan had rejected Sanfeng harvest practices centuries before the master was born. He had not yet appeared in the world—how could that heterodox art be attributed to him? Some say the master unfortunately styled himself with the “peak” Sanfeng; I believe that in choosing his name he would not deliberately borrow the title of a heterodox book. This colophon has made that clear. Read again the master’s own Direct Pointing to Dispel Doubt and his autobiographical preface, and any upright person in the world may be sure that what circulates is mistaken. Yet people still argue endlessly and will not wake—why is that?

The Complete Collection of Mysterious Discourses is attributed to the True Person Zhang Sanfeng (a Daoist Neidan master), with commentary and collation by Jin Gai Mountain recluse Min Yide (style name Tiaofu).

Zhang Sanfeng said: The Dao is nothing other than “the Middle.” Yet people still cling stubbornly to delusion and refuse to awaken—why is that?

Confucians speak of reaching the Middle (zhì zhōng)—bringing the heart to what is neither biased nor leaning. Daoists speak of guarding the Middle (shǒu zhōng)—holding fast to this Middle. Buddhists speak of the Middle in emptiness (kōng zhōng)—resting in emptiness without falling to either extreme. The “Middle” spoken of in Neidan (internal alchemy—refining Jing, Qi, and Shen within the body as the furnace and vessel) is the aperture within the aperture; that alone is the true Middle.

I can only lament that people in the world do not recognize this Middle. Some seek it at the center of the nine palaces of the head and call that place the mud-pill palace (níwán); they do not find it. Some seek it one cun and three fen below the navel and call that place the Dantian (energy center); they do not find it. Some take the middle one cun and two fen in the space eight cun and four fen between heart and navel as the Middle, or look between the two kidneys, opposite the navel wheel—they still do not find it. Whenever one seeks it in a bodily location that has form, one fails to obtain it. Then one turns and speculates again: one names this pass the Mysterious Pass (xuánguān), names this receptacle the Mysterious Transforming (xuánhuà)—as if it were a valley of emptiness that cannot be grasped through anything with form. Yet seeking only in the formless, one still does not obtain it. Then one thinks again: it is non-being, yet one does not fix on non-being; it is being, yet one does not fix on being. Is this not “neither being nor non-being,” neither lodged in being nor in non-being? Even if one’s wisdom surpassed that of Yan Hui or Min Ziqian, one could hardly force a correct guess.

I now risk breaking taboo to explain this, truly because I have no choice. At this time many immortals have descended to save the world—some as officials, some as scholars, some farming, working crafts, or trading, some in the Daoist orders, some in the Buddhist orders. Therefore I write this essay to summon them, so they know they have come to save the world and, when their task is done, return again to heaven without falling into the dust of the mundane world. That is my intent. Illustrations follow.

Outer cultivation means placing oneself outside, transforming the self into empty void, thereby first realizing xing (one’s original nature). Zhang Sanfeng said: For Buddhists to realize nature, they must keep precepts (fasting and abstinence), so they take the Great Void as the self and first empty the body. When the body is empty, heaven and earth are also empty; when heaven and earth are empty, the great void is empty; when emptiness reaches the point where nothing more can be emptied, that is true emptiness. He also said: Only when one reaches “non-non” does one transcend heaven and earth and recognize “non-non” beyond the void.

Inner cultivation means gathering oneself within the body and cultivating through taixi (breathing as subtle as a fetus in the womb), thereby first realizing ming (life). When emptiness reaches the point where nothing more can be emptied, that is true emptiness; “non-non” transcends heaven and earth and must be recognized beyond the void. Inner cultivation is to guard the body within and practice fetal breathing, realizing life first.

Zhang Sanfeng said: The embryo grows by breath, and breath in turn settles because of the embryo; the “aperture within the aperture” is the true place where immortals nurture their embryo and anchor their breath. Heaven and earth, vast as they are, are nothing but one great embryo; the sun and moon passing to and fro and the Dipper’s handle turning are its true breath. Consider again the books of the three traditions—Confucian, Dao, and Buddhist: the Book of Changes speaks of “accomplishing nature and preserving it, the gate of the Way and its power”; the Classic of the Way and Its Power says “mysterious again and again, the gate of all wonders”; the Nirvana Sutra (the Buddha’s final teaching) says “when you gather the mind in one place, nothing cannot be done”—all point directly to this one spot. When I read without getting stuck, I understood that sages and ordinary people share the same primordial Qi (xiantian zhi qi), and I was no longer misled by blind teachers. Having swept aside side paths, I gathered the mind-ape (the restless, hard-to-settle mind) anew, renewed my resolve, lowered my intent, passed through demonic trials, sought an enlightened teacher in hardship, and traced and obtained the very first reception of Qi. What is meant by “first” is the primordial ancestral Qi of the origin. This Qi holds a point of true yin and true yang; it arises before heaven and earth were opened, at the first unfolding of primordial unity. This lucid millet-sized spiritual pearl hangs in the utmost emptiness and utmost correctness, clear and at ease; those who miss the point are like drunkards—once they leave this single move, every direction is a side path. (Master Shen said: The millet pearl is wu earth. According to the Luoshu, metal, wood, water, and fire occupy the eight directions, while wu and ji alone sit in the empty center—hence “in utmost emptiness and utmost correctness.”) This lucid pearl hangs in the void, containing the ten thousand images and giving birth to the ten thousand things—all of this is the one ⊙ (the circle, symbolizing primordial unity). In the elixir path it stands for true lead and true mercury; grasp it once and you have it forever. Do not cling to outer forms of heaven and earth, sun and moon, or male and female; only within and without your own body set up the furnace and cauldron (taking body and mind as the alchemical furnace and vessel). Refine the self and steady the mind; when principle is clear and nature is seen, gather the ingredients and apply the firing—within no more than one double-hour, you immediately obtain a mysterious pearl the size of a millet grain, appearing above Qujiang (a locus named in internal alchemy). When that knife’s-edge dose enters the mouth (this bit of medicine is taken in), in an instant one aperture opens and a hundred apertures open together; fire reaches the four limbs, and flesh, blood, sinew, and bone throughout the body turn into Qi, like mercury outside the body. At that stage, another hundred days of fiery cultivation are needed before the marvel appears; grasp it once and it is yours forever, with no falling back—abiding in the world while keeping the form, refining spirit and returning to emptiness, merging with the Dao as one.

This passage speaks of the fundamental thing that practitioners must directly apprehend in cultivation.

In Buddhism it is called śūnyatā (vacuity), tathatā (suchness), and the nature of awakening—the original face free of all attachment, the true nature that is as-it-is and never false, and the mind-nature that can awaken. If one truly knows where to begin, refines away demonic obstructions, and sees one’s original nature, in an instant one can kindle the samādhi true fire (the refining fire that arises in meditative absorption), return to the root and revert to the origin, regard all things as one, see heaven and earth as empty, and be bathed in myriad rays of light; one gains the five eyes and six superknowledges (five modes of insight and six spiritual capacities), forges a vajra indestructible body, and penetrates the subtle principle that even ghosts and spirits cannot fathom.

In Confucian terms it is “from Wuji (the limitless) to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate).” Regarding the outer cosmos: Wuji is the undifferentiated whole before heaven and earth have taken shape—before sun and moon have separated, when above, below, and the four directions cannot be distinguished, all is chaotic like damp mist; only when qi arrives and, full, stirs against itself, does Taiji arise. Taiji is sun and moon. One must emulate the principle of heaven, earth, sun, and moon—not by literally gathering the sun and moon from outside.

Once sun and moon exist, heaven and earth divide of themselves. Clear qi rises and becomes heaven; the numinous beings in that void are all illumined by pure Qingqi (refined vital breath). Turbid qi sinks and becomes earth; mountains, rivers, and people all lie beneath. Though the five grains and the myriad things sprout from the earth, they all depend on heavenly qi to live. Heaven’s clear qi is pure Yang; earth’s turbid qi is pure Yin. Dew falling from heaven is Yang generating Yin; the myriad things growing from earth is Yin generating Yang. Heaven and earth are a boundless vessel of emptiness, without end and without limit. Stars and deities in heaven turn each in its place; the myriad things on earth thrive through the four seasons and eight seasonal nodes—all arising from emptiness.

Sun and moon are the essence of heaven: above they illumine the thirty-three heavens; below they reach the nine springs and the yellow depths. They wheel east and west, ascend and descend, and bring cold and heat in turn. The sun is a purely Yang body, holding within it a point of true Yin essence—associated with the Green Dragon, the Maiden (image of Yin essence), Jia Wood, mercury, the Golden Crow, and the three hun; this is the “outer counterpart.” The moon is a purely Yin body, holding within it a point of true Yang Qi—associated with the White Tiger, the Infant (image of Yang breath), Geng Metal, cinnabar, the Jade Rabbit, and the seven po; this is the “inner self.”

The transformation of the human body follows the same pattern as heaven and earth, so within the body there are also a true sun and a true moon. The Dao is originally close at hand, yet people insist on seeking it far away. The three hun belong to xing (innate nature); xing resides at the edge of heaven. The seven po belong to ming (the root of life); ming lies at the bottom of the sea. When inner and outer connect and you grasp the two words xing and ming, the essential message of ten thousand volumes of alchemical classics is resolved. Xing pertains to shen (spirit) and is yin; ming pertains to qi (innate true qi) and is yang—hence the saying that when one yin and one yang join in mutual support, that is called the Dao. True yin and true yang face each other. If you do not even recognize this true yin essence, how can you know that speck of true yang qi? Students today not only fail to know true yang; they do not know true yin either. Yet if you recognize true yin, true yang will naturally become clear as well. Without meeting a true teacher and relying on guesswork alone, all effort is in vain.

The Dao is right within heaven and earth—yet heaven and earth themselves do not recognize it. The student should thoroughly investigate the subtle gates of the three talents—heaven, earth, and humanity—within the body, and the genuine signals of yin and yang inside and outside the person. Without the essential teaching, one glance at the various odd names in the books leaves you without a fixed view; you cling to side paths (methods that stray from the correct Way) and cannot discern the principle. If you cannot exhaust principle, the heart-mind stays unclear; when the heart-mind is unclear, the nature-heaven cannot shine like a bright moon. If you cannot see your nature, how can you know your ming? Alas! It is only because the alchemical classics lack oral formulas that you are told to go nowhere in particular to coalesce the spirit fetus (the inner elixir formed where spirit and qi interweave in fetal breathing)—yet you have no place to begin.

External. Innate True Yang

This diagram concerns the place within the human body where inner and outer transformation unfolds. It is called the Tongtian Qiao (Heaven-Penetrating Aperture)—the opening that connects with Heaven—and also the Liandan Lu (Cauldron for Refining the Inner Elixir), the place where one escapes the path of birth and death. It is where life itself arises: before one’s parents conceived and before the Five Phases had yet arrived. A single point of Xian Tian Zhen Yang (innate pure yang vital energy) lies clearly hidden in the secret recess of the “four great form-mountains” (the body shaped by earth, water, fire, and wind). This message is utterly subtle. This luminous spirit-pearl within the person is one with the sun and moon of heaven and earth outside the body; it is the Zu Qi (original life-breath) of the whole person. When the true “parents” are explained today, tomorrow one need not fear death or birth. This is the compassionate teaching of the Supreme One (Taishang Laojun) on the gist of the Huangting Jing (Yellow Court Scripture) outer scene.

Middle. Within the Body

This diagram speaks of the creative power that gives rise to heaven and earth. How the “male and female swords” are forged and how to tell whether the “medicinal” material is mature or immature—all of this is here. Setting heaven in place and establishing earth never strays from this spot. The karmic ties of myriad kalpas require receiving the authentic transmission. Heaven’s Qi cannot descend to earth; earth’s Qi cannot rise to heaven—they constantly hang suspended in empty space. The principle is hardest to grasp, hence the saying: “Of the aperture in the middle, few know; you must have the master’s own mouth to transmit it.” The union of Qian and Kun occurs here; the meeting of Kan and Li occurs here as well.

Internal. Sea-Bottom Life Lord

This diagram depicts the spirit-turtle formed from the golden essence at the sea bottom. It is the Dui metal of “the other house” within oneself—the root of life ruled by Wu earth. The hundred vessels and the five viscera and six bowels all depend on this thing to govern them; becoming an immortal or a buddha and transcending birth and death are also arranged through this single aperture. It is truly the place where nature and life are guarded and the method by which they are nourished. It can keep myriad illnesses from arising and is the root of all Qi—the Taiji (supreme pivot) within the whole body. This is the compassionate teaching of the Supreme One on the gist of the Huangting inner scene.

Heaven, Earth, and Man—these “Three Powers” ultimately all come down to this single body of ours. From the post-heaven perspective, they have form and position within the body; yet if we trace back to the pre-heaven source, that which gives birth to Heaven, Earth, Man, and the myriad things has neither form nor position. The immortals say: “Pre-heaven without post-heaven has no way to attract and gather; post-heaven without pre-heaven cannot undergo transformation.” This means Heaven, Earth, and Man are within and without this body, each belonging to the upper, middle, and lower—three true messages, three true furnace tripods (the places where the elixir is placed and refined in cultivation)—and they connect with the wondrous methods of the three teachings (Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism) and the three vehicles. The Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and Man outside the body, and the scriptures of the three teachings outside the body, belong to another level. The Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth) spoken of here are the Five Phases of the human being itself, all within nature and life (Xing and Ming)—why seek them from others? The Wuzhen Pian (Song-dynasty Zhang Boduan’s internal alchemy text) says: “The three-five-one gathering—three words; from ancient times to now, those who truly understand are indeed rare.” (The three teachings and Five Phases return to one; from antiquity to the present, very few have truly grasped this.) This is no empty boast. Setting aside the finer points of firing sequence and gathering (the rhythm of circulating fire and the convergence of the elixir), speaking only of these three Five Phases—among a million people, not one truly knows. If one understands how the Three Powers mutually support and draw from one another, returns to this root, restores this original source, transmits essence and conveys spirit, extracts essence and exchanges breath, inverts the ordinary flow to gather and take—if a person dares to undertake this, becoming an immortal or a Buddha is not difficult. All who study cultivation must first clarify the true furnace and tripod within and without this body; without recognizing them, there is no place to begin. Once one knows that establishing the furnace and setting the tripod lies in the inner and outer, and understands the essentials of yin-yang interchange, one must further investigate true lead and true mercury (the two kinds of vital qi that symbolize the elixir ingredients in internal alchemy), and the timing of when inner and outer elixir ingredients arise—only then can one advance the fire in cultivation. If one does not know what the elixir ingredients within and without the body are, what is there to refine in the furnace?

The outer layer concerns true lead and true mercury—in Neidan they stand for the two genuine “medicinal” substances of essence and qi, not the ordinary metals. The crux of what moves through this aperture is to discern and obtain true lead and true mercury, and the moment when inner and outer medicines arise; only then can one advance the firing in practice. If you do not know what your inner and outer medicines are, what is there to refine in the furnace and cauldron—the vessel here meaning body and mind?

This aperture is precisely the true inner and outer furnace and cauldron of your own person. Here one sets the Nine Yang Cauldron, forges the Wisdom Sword to judge the fire phases, opens the passes to gather the medicine, draws mercury back from cinnabar, clusters and bathes the ingredients, and brings water and fire into mutual completion—holding to emptiness and nourishing the subtle spirit, all in this single aperture. Within it lies a speck of true cinnabar and true quicksilver, plainly situated in a place neither inside nor outside the body, which ten thousand people fail to recognize. Stray from this one move and you are practicing in the dark. This is the outer Five Phases, outer furnace and cauldron, and outer creation-and-transformation of the self—also the Nine Yang Cauldron cast by Xuanyuan (the Yellow Emperor).

The middle layer is the Kun-earth cauldron (the cauldron of earth in the Kun trigram, the central earth position). This aperture is exactly where clustering and embryo formation take place; the arising of heaven and earth, the ten thousand things, and wind, clouds, thunder, and rain are all cast in the Nine Yang Cauldron and likewise in this central palace position. Here is the spirit chamber and precious cauldron, which can produce both inner and outer medicines, forge the paired swords of yin and yang, withdraw lead and add mercury, and await the touch that turns them into elixir—hence the saying, “Few know the middle aperture.”

The inner layer is the lord of life below the navel. This aperture is the root of beginning cultivation and the ladder to completing the Way. Within, one installs the furnace and sets the cauldron and refines with water and fire; when method and resources are sufficient and spirit and qi are complete, the seven upper apertures shine with light—that is the true fire phase; only then can one take the medicine of the outer furnace and cauldron and pair it with the inner yin and yang. Again, it depends entirely on this point to ripen the spirit until the myriad spirits obey, like stars wheeling and the dipper turning—only then can one seize the outer heaven’s secret timing.

The upper orifice in its essence is pure Yang, yet within it lies a trace of true Yin essence (Jing). Though it is on my body, it belongs to what is called “his home”—seemingly external, yet actually hidden within: the point of luminous radiance between the two kidneys shining outward, hence the metaphor “he.”

The lower orifice in its essence is pure Yin, yet within it is concealed a trace of true Yang Qi. It is what belongs to “my home,” internal—the point where the Qian palace (the Yang region) overflows into the Kun position (the Yin region)—hence the metaphor “I.”

Within the upper orifice is a female body; outward it appears as a man. Within the lower orifice is a male body; outward it appears as a woman. For this reason adepts often use man and woman, “his” and “my,” as figures of speech. Between the two orifices is another—the middle palace (Zhonggong)—like the place where the Yellow Dame (Huangpo, the go-between who joins Yin and Yang) acts as matchmaker. Only when Yin and Yang are reversed and united here can one become a sage.

The treasure of life (ming bao) seems taken from outside oneself, yet it is still what lies in one’s own Kun position—only situated in “his home” within the Dharma body and form body. Thus adepts say: gathering never departs from one’s own primordial Shen (xian Tian Yuan Shen). People in the world who seek the Dao without the true transmission do not know where to begin: clinging to oneself is wrong, leaving oneself is also wrong. They do not realize that point of primordial Yang, bright and scattered, rests on the body at a subtle height, hidden in a secret place neither wholly inner nor outer, inner and outer linked by one Qi. This is a secret not transmitted for ages.

On the human body there are from the start two true messages, of the same nature as heaven and earth and sun and moon outside—no difference at all. Heaven and earth are greatest among the ten thousand things; humans are most spiritual among them. Heaven and earth are merely a “great person”; the human body is merely a “small heaven and earth”—so the transformations of the body match those of heaven and earth. Who can awaken to this: everyone has a heaven-connecting orifice, the single medicine of long life without death, one alchemical furnace, one ladder to ascension—yet all have it without recognizing it, disbelieving that there is a method of long life without death or a path of ascending in broad daylight, preferring instead to die as they are. Truly pitiable and painful!

To refine the Great Returning Elixir (Dahuandan)—the inner alchemists’ elixir that restores one to the original source—one must first tonify deficiency; only when the marrow is replenished to fullness can one refine the Golden Fluid Great Returning Elixir (Jinye Dahuandan). The initial practice is to gather the “true Yin within Yang” from the upper aperture and draw it into the golden cauldron and Qi sea (Jinding Qihai) within the body—the vessel and storehouse used in elixir work—and unite it with the Kidney meridian. The true Yin within Yang is one’s original spirit (Yuanshen) and true form; outwardly it belongs to the three hun (soul aspects that govern spirit). The “true Yang within Yin” in the lower aperture is the body’s primordial Qi (Yuanqi), belonging to the seven po (soul aspects that govern the physical form). Once these two breaths meet in sequence, Kan and Li (Water and Fire) naturally intercourse; hun and po blend, spirit concentrates and Qi coalesces, and embryonic breathing (taixi)—breathing so subtle it seems absent—settles on its own. Each day’s sensation is as blissful as the union of husband and wife, yet one must not fix the mind on chasing it. When Water and Fire are both accomplished (shuihuo ji), Qi moves to the four limbs like the living flame of outer fire; when Water and Fire are evenly balanced, this is the firing method of the small heavenly circuit (xiaozhoutian huohou)—the measure of “fire” as Qi completes one cycle. Through such harmonizing and steaming, the true breath in the throat flows back into the original sea; Kidney Qi from the lower burner naturally enters inward, true fire naturally surges into the limbs, the whole body goes soft and melting with inexhaustible ease; within the belly it is like a living dragon circling up and down in endless transformations, and the “infant” and “ maiden” (metaphors for true Yang and true Yin) naturally unite. This is the work of gathering Yang to supplement Yin, and of foundation-building and self-refinement (zhuji lianji).

To cultivate the Golden Fluid Great Returning Elixir, one must broadly accumulate inner and outer “dharma wealth” (facai)—methods, provisions, and supporting conditions—and remain at ease all day, with inner clarity day and night; this is the path of long life and sustained vision. Ordinary people rely entirely on the five grains to sustain life; after several days without food, breath departs and they die. When people age, the lower origin is depleted and the marrow is emptied; they cannot bear the Qi of the five grains, so the five grains both nourish and can harm. If within the body Water and Fire are accomplished and blood and Qi reverse and flow back along the path of inner refinement, the Qi of the five viscera harmonizes, the spleen and stomach open freely, food entering the belly can also transform into Qi, and further generate essence (Jing), and generate spirit (Shen). If one truly obtains the celestial mechanism and the initial technique, and waits until the marrow is full and the belly and navel are as rounded as a woman at full term—not because there is an actual fetus, but because Qi, essence, and spirit are each full—when all three are complete, one further refines with true fire, tuning spirit and refining Qi; then the true practitioner will have his day of achievement and completion.

I now earnestly advise the people of the world: seek and investigate this practice with effort, penetrate the celestial mechanism inside and outside the body, and quickly begin—refine the self and await the hour. When the time comes, choose the place and enter the chamber to refine this Dragon–Tiger Great Elixir (Longhu Dadan—the great elixir formed from metaphors of true Yin and true Yang). It must be in a secluded place where even the bark of dogs cannot be heard; outside, only a fellow who understands the Way may be present—not a single idle person may enter, lest the spirit be startled. Daoists speak of heguang tongchen (concealing one’s light and mixing with the dust of the world); I say one must cultivate in seclusion—why? Because refining the self is tempering in the ordinary world, while nourishing Qi belongs in the mountains and forests.

The path of Golden Liquid Returning Elixir is a way to leave the ordinary world behind and enter the realm of sages; it cannot be put on a par with everyday affairs. You must be spotlessly pure, let go of every stray thought, cut off all ties that bind, and remain wholly unburdened—forever like someone lodging in a strange land, with no impulse to turn back or regret. Only when you have set your heart on this can you be called a true renunciant.

When you withdraw into the chamber for quiet practice, hold to emptiness to refine Shen (spirit), and rest in stillness and quiet to nourish Qi. Keep at this until essence and blood are full, sinews and bones are pliant, the skin shows no wrinkles, and the body feels as light and soft as spider silk. Light should issue from the seven openings of the head—eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—shining without ceasing day or night, while the mind stays open and clear like the Great Void. Only then is it time to seek immortality. Next, with undivided attention, train the working of Shen until it is thoroughly skilled, so that it can take shape, obey your command, and change freely as the stars wheel and the Dipper turns. At that stage—when Qi is full, Shen is complete, and your “dharma wealth” (the provisions and conditions needed for elixir work) is ample—you may refine the great elixir and truly count as a genuine adept of the elixir path.

When your practice reaches this stage, light will issue from the seven orifices, the three yangs will open and flourish (yang qi runs strong and unobstructed), and the spirit sword takes form. Then you can ride the current and push the boat, borrow the wind and kindle the fire: after the single yang first stirs within, you may seize the celestial mechanism outside the body, open the barrier points in earnest, and refine the golden elixir of your own body beyond the flesh, so that dragon and tiger become husband and wife (yin and yang qi unite).

If you know how to gather and cluster (bringing the “medicine” and the firing together in one place), you clear and settle the mind-spirit, draw up the golden lord at the seabed (a figure for yang essence in the lower field), open the pass at the spine’s middle gate (Jiaji, the mid-back barrier), rise to the mud-ball palace (Niwan, the upper cinnabar field at the crown), and drop into the crystal palace to pair with wood-mercury. In less than half a watch (about an hour), the gathering is complete. True fire rushes into the four limbs; flesh and bone feel as if burned and cut by knives—almost unbearable. Even the most resolute person loses all fixed plan at this point. You must guard against danger and anticipate peril, bathe and settle body and mind (nurture and temper; do not force progress), until fire and water are mutually benefiting (cold and heat balanced, yin and yang intercourse).

In an instant the whole body feels like stir-frying beans; the hundred openings burst open together; blood and qi throughout the body seem to take shape and even to make sound, clamoring all over the skin. Under the root of the tongue are two points: the left is the cinnabar well (Danjing), the right is sweet spring (Ganquan)—together called the upright surge points (Zhengyong). They open along with the bone channels; kidney water below surges into the mouth. For a time you cannot swallow it all; the taste is quite unlike ordinary sweetness—it is nothing like sugar.

Thus until thirty double-hours—that is, two and a half days—the surging water finally runs dry, and you wait only for celestial dew (Tian gui, the periodically appearing innate essence) to descend. When the moment comes, suddenly a speck of true lead drops down, cool as a flake of ice; at once you meet it with a speck of true mercury. True lead and true mercury are alchemical names for two kinds of refined qi—not the lead and mercury of the mundane world.

After gathering and clustering—bringing Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit) together into one—the whole body becomes clear and still, yet it can feel as if countless war drums beat at once, or as if a million thunderclaps roared. That sound comes from the transformations of blood and Qi in the hundred vessels; do not be alarmed. Walk ta gang bu dou (steps aligned with the Big Dipper’s star positions), hold the ritual sword in hand, and guard yourself with mudra seals (jie yin). This is precisely where danger gathers: you must pass through san hui jiu zhuan (three rounds and nine turns), jiang shi zhao jiang (summoning the master and calling the spirit generals)—only with such protection and vigilance can you hold the line. In the empty expanse you may see dragon and tiger intertwining, heaven and earth in mutual harmony (tian di jiao tai), sun and moon united in one palace, immortals, and all kinds of visionary scenes. These are all phantoms spun from Qi transformation; you must not take them for real, lest outer demons attach.

Once true lead is cast into true mercury—the inner elixir’s image of yin and yang Qi joining—it still takes three days before the da yao (great medicine) of inner refinement appears. In the very moment when the two sides contend, if no one explains it face to face, nine out of ten will die of fright. The moment fear arises in the heart, you meet demonic obstruction. Because you are refining primordial Yang, leftover bodily forms all turn into spirits and turn back to harm you; though they show shape, they are only yin spirits. Yin spirits are the most elusive: they can change endlessly and conjure realms to injure you, and they will not submit easily. A common saying runs: “Only when you can wield the liu tong shen (six penetrations—heaven-eye, heaven-ear, and the rest) may you speak of life and death; without the liu tong shen, do not expect to subdue ghosts and spirits.” If you cannot subdue ghosts and spirits, you cannot hope to attain the Dao. If ghosts and spirits cannot even appear to you, how could they harm you?

In drowsy oblivion, after thirty more time-periods—two and a half days—Qi meets Qi; true Qi fills to the utmost, and suddenly, lively and bright, the tai yang liu zhu (sun-stream pearl, image of the primordial-spirit great medicine) is lifted out, sheds its shell, and enters the mouth. Myriad dragon spirits are all thrown into panic. This is the yuan zhong zhen dan yao (primordial-seed true elixir medicine); only after it enters the mouth do you truly understand, “My fate is up to me, not up to heaven.” Immortal tradition says: “This time I truly died—only now do I live,” and again: “One battle, and all under heaven is at peace.”

At this stage, Heaven and Earth truly unite in harmonious exchange (jiaotai), and the Sun and Moon truly meet in their palaces (jiaogong). Once the medicine of true Yang arrives, in an instant the fire of the full celestial circuit (zhoutian) stirs: the bone-embryo melts into a heap of fleshly mud, and the Yang Shen—the cultivated pure Yang spirit-consciousness—leaves the body. Letting go without attachment, one holds single-mindedly to emptiness and follows the spirit in its transformations. Since the myriad things were born from Heaven and Earth, the myriad spirits all come to pay homage and submit. Then, weary of the dusty world, one wanders freely in Penglai (the legendary realm of immortals), attended by three thousand jade maidens, day after day at the Peach Banquet drinking immortal wine and wearing immortal flowers. The four great elements (si da—the constituents of the body) grow mellow and harmonious; the whole body becomes lucid and refined; and at the “sea bottom” (the lower Dantian region), turtle and snake naturally coil around each other. Only here is the true Five Dragons Great Hibernation method (wulong dazhe fa)—the practice that deeply seals the five dragons in dormancy.

After a hundred days of refinement, the Xuanguan (the critical inner pass) opens of itself; the “infant” (the yang spirit condensed in inner practice) shows its form; turtle and snake appear; and the ten thousand spirits obey commands. This is the true inversion and deployment of true lead and true mercury (zhen qian, zhen gong—the paired yin-yang substances of Neidan). Purple mist and fine light surround the body; auspicious qi streams in a thousand threads; a red glow enshrouds the form. Only at this point does the adept obtain dry mercury (gan gong) in the mouth.

After six more months, the body is like silver paste; blood turns to white fluid; fragrance suffuses the whole person; and breath from the mouth becomes clouds. This is the achievement of the spiritual elixir (ling dan): one who takes it will never die, and the dead can be revived.

After ten months, the Yang Shen leaves the body, and the entire form can exhale breath that becomes clouds. This too is the achievement of the spiritual elixir: one who takes it will never die, and the dead can be revived.

After ten months of cultivation, the Yang Shen (the purely yang Original Spirit) can leave the physical body, and one body can manifest a hundred thousand forms. By twelve months, one has seized in full what heaven and earth’s creative transformation ought to yield; the Yang Shen is then complete. The body sheds eighty-four thousand yin spirits (turbid, yin-afflicted consciousnesses). Walking under sun and moon, one casts no shadow; entering metal or stone, one meets no obstruction; entering water, one does not sink; entering fire, one is not burned; blades and weapons cannot harm; ghosts and spirits cannot fathom the subtle mechanism within—transformations are boundless—and one becomes a True Person (one who has attained the Dao).

The qi dynamics throughout the body are all true medicine: a chicken that eats it turns into a phoenix, a horse that eats it turns into a dragon, a human who takes it becomes an immortal. Even ghosts and spirits find this hard to grasp; unless one has seen it with one’s own eyes and done it with one’s own body, who would believe such words! The great medicine, the Golden Elixir (Neidan’s perfected inner treasure), is the work of creative transformation. It must pass through three rounds and nine revolutions; the firing times are exquisitely fine. The secret oral formulas for gathering and clustering lie only between five and seven—they overturn the ordinary order of heaven and earth, yet everything still proceeds from the natural (ziran). Though we speak of the natural, one must still observe and take heaven and earth’s creative transformation as model before accomplishment is possible; it is not a matter of seeking outwardly in heaven, earth, sun, and moon and only then attaining the Dao. When the great medicine enters the mouth, one must have practiced, seen, and tested it and arrive at that place of natural spontaneity before it can be achieved—likewise, accomplishment does not mean clinging to heaven, earth, sun, and moon.

What is called “the great medicine entering the mouth” must be something you have personally done, seen, and tested before it can respond and arrive at a state of natural spontaneity. Although the work may span a year, the fineness of huohou—the rhythm and measure of refining and nurturing—lies entirely within one hundred days; movement and stillness, and what is perilous, lie entirely within ninety days. When inner and outer qi can gather and cluster together, clarity and peace come in an instant; the sacred embryo (the “fetus” formed in internal alchemy) is accomplished, and a bead the size of a grain of millet is produced, swallowed into the belly; then the fire of the full circuit (the circulating inner qi) is set in motion, and one is reborn with a new body. After that, one need only hold to emptiness and stillness and nourish vacuity and quiet; everything else completes itself naturally.

People today who truly receive clear instruction from a genuine master first refine themselves amid worldly dust (tempering mind and character in ordinary life), accumulate “lead” in the marketplace (gathering the true yang spoken of in internal alchemy), and layer year, month, day, hour, and moment into one accumulated whole. Within great stillness there is only a single instant; in less than half a shichen (about one hour), the entire celestial mechanism is turned upside down; then one applies ten months of fire-work, and the body merges with the natural method of Heaven and Earth. If one cannot seek life within death, how can one escape the three calamities and eight difficulties?

Those with great learning are clever and quick: hearing one thing they know ten; they can discourse on the scriptures of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, yet they only understand principles of nature and the meanings of words. How can they awaken to the transformations of the golden elixir, the celestial mechanism of the Great Dao, and the two true messages—inner and outer? If they truly meet a perfected person (one who has attained the Dao) and receive authentic transmission, they can exhaust principle and fully realize nature and open enlightenment, like water returning to the great sea; then when they look again at various schools’ alchemical books, every line and every word is nothing but the Dao. The alchemical writings of earlier people did not speak rashly; not a single word or character was empty—only people cannot awaken to them.

For example, when it says “the golden elixir is swallowed into the belly,” those who lack the essential point mistake it as talk about the mouth and belly. Who would know that the mystery of the aperture requires “one mouthful that drinks dry the West River”—the Chan meaning of suddenly grasping the whole at once? If one forcibly fits explanations about Heaven and Earth, sun and moon, male and female onto the literal surface, it is all wild guessing and loose talk. Some cling to heterodox side-paths of sound and color, keep others at a thousand li’s distance, refuse humble inquiry, and never attain understanding; instead they nitpick and slander lofty persons—how can they obtain the method? The outcome is to be hated by Heaven and people alike, all becoming seeds of the hells— truly pitiable.

I earnestly advise people of the world: if you meet a perfected person, do not stubbornly hold to your own views; you should visit with an empty mind and earnestly seek a clear master, so you do not delay and harm yourself.

This passage concerns the Governor Vessel (Du Mai). That “Du” has been mistaken for something like a “seed of prison” is truly lamentable. I urge everyone: if you meet a perfected person (a genuine adept of the Way), do not cling stubbornly to your own views. You should seek guidance with an open mind and search diligently for a clear-sighted teacher—only then will you avoid holding yourself back.

This passage concerns the Governor Vessel. “Du” means to preside and lead; it governs the qi channels of the whole body. It is precisely the innate primordial Yang Qi (the root Yang of the pre-heaven state)—before Heaven and Earth had parted and before the human body had formed—that has endured through countless kalpas without perishing, unchanged from antiquity to the present.

This passage concerns the Conception Vessel (Ren Mai). “Ren” carries the sense of benevolence (ren).