《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 4

Someone asked: If the union of yin and yang arises from nature itself, why must one still cultivate? The reply was: Post-heaven yin and yang sometimes unite and sometimes do not. The pre-heaven teaching of the sages applies reversal within the flow of the ordinary course, so that yin and yang can remain in union for a long time without being lost. Thus a person can surpass heaven and not be bound by yin and yang.

This answer should be put into practice according to the secret of “restoration” (huanyuan) taught by Ma Danyang (founder of the Quanzhen lineage)—only then will one avoid going astray. The meaning is that one must plow deeply before sowing seed, and in watering and nourishing nothing must be stinted, so as to await the right moment. When one’s effort and the season align, heaven and human act together; only then can one use the illusory to draw out the subtle. The turns and changes within this are such that even spirits and ghosts cannot fathom them. If one does not borrow that brief moment of chaos (hundun), the work cannot be completed; if one does not set body and mind outside affairs, there will be dangers such as the “flight” of essence and qi. Patriarch Zhongli Quan took this calmly in stride; Patriarch Lü Dongbin gained it and lost it three times. The crux lies in the two words “clear” and “harmonious”—used to receive and to blend—so that spring may last through all four seasons and one may truly say that the human prevails over heaven. Is this not what is meant by pre-heaven learning? It is nothing other than getting ahead of the season in every node and every affair, so that when the time comes one is not left behind. One must not indulge in idle speculation and guesswork, lest one stray onto a wrong path. Wuyuanzi (Liu Yiming) narrated up to this point without laying everything bare. The commentator, fearing that later students would still seek a way out through thorns, therefore added this supplementary explanation.

Another asked: When yin and yang unite, is it inward or outward? The reply was: Yes. Post-heaven yin and yang are inward; pre-heaven yin and yang are outward. What is inward comes from nature; what is outward comes from deliberate action.

If we speak of post-heaven union, it depends entirely on applying reversal—yet the answer says “natural.” Pre-heaven union depends entirely on wuwei (non-action)—yet the answer says “deliberate action.” Is this speaking of inner and outer in terms of two physical bodies, or of two illusory dharma-bodies whose qi mutually responds—what is called outward and arising from action?

When it comes to post-heaven union, the method is entirely one of reverse application, yet the answer speaks of “the natural”; when it comes to pre-heaven union, the method is entirely one of non-action, yet the answer speaks of “deliberate effort.” Does this refer to inner and outer between the two physical bodies, or to inner and outer in the sense of qi-resonance between two phantom dharma bodies formed in practice?

If we take the two phantom bodies: within the yang phantom lies pre-heaven yin; within the yin phantom lies pre-heaven yang. Viewed from the pre-heaven side, one should apply the method in reverse, hence it is called “deliberate effort”; viewed from the post-heaven side, one falls into direct, forward flow, hence it is called “the natural.” Answers of that kind are only general talk and do not seem to be Liu Yiming’s (Wuyuanzi) true intent. The refined meaning appears only when the discussion is framed in terms of qi-resonance between phantom dharma bodies.

According to the alchemical method: what has form and appearance is called post-heaven and “inner”; what is without sound or odor is called pre-heaven and “outer.” When the two phantom bodies meet, spirit concentrates and qi coalesces—this arises naturally; when blocked qi later penetrates outward into empty space, that too is natural; then Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) resonance occurs, and primordial qi floods in, filling both phantom bodies. The subtle states within are beyond what words can fully describe. The “three returns and three losses” that Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) described—the juncture when the medicinal qi returns three times and is easily lost three times—is exactly this moment. Each step must be matched correctly before one can reach supreme stability (taiding). That is the point of “deliberate effort” as Wuyuanzi uses it; students must not take it as a loose, general idea.

The question, in short, is this: when primordial qi fills both phantom bodies, the inner mystery is hard to exhaust in words; Lü’s three returns and three losses apply precisely then, and step-by-step coordination is required to attain taiding. That is the aim of “deliberate effort” in Wuyuanzi’s account—scholars should not understand it in a vague, superficial way.

Someone asked: “When people speak of Yin-Yang ‘outside’ oneself, that surely has nothing to do with me, does it? Some say it lies between heaven and earth; some say it is in ‘the other house’ (in Neidan, the partner or source outside one’s own body). Is that so?”

The reply was: “Foolish people do not understand what ‘outside’ means. Some practice inhaling and exhaling the qi of heaven and earth, clouds and mist, and the like; some seek to gather a woman’s ‘red lead,’ ‘plum,’ and other impure blood-substances (terms from old collection practices that took a woman’s menstrual blood and similar things). They leave the correct path and enter a crooked one, accumulating all kinds of karmic wrong. They do not know that what is called ‘outside’ means it embraces heaven and earth and was never originally ‘mine.’ When life first arises, this was originally something belonging to my own house; because once the pre-heaven (the undamaged original nature) is broken, the false takes charge and the true withdraws, day by day growing more distant—as if it had nothing to do with me—hence it is called ‘outside.’ This secret, without meeting a true teacher, is hard to recognize.”

The commentary says: The refutation above is correct. Still, this secret substance must ultimately be sought from what is of the same kind (a counterpart of one’s own kind). Speaking of inner and outer is only a way of describing what is before one’s eyes; in truth it is one and the same thing—how could there be a real split into Yin-Yang, inner and outer? One must take one’s stand in the pre-heaven. Heaven and earth, sun and moon, clouds and mist, red lead, plum, and so on—all such forms are false; what is within them is all qi, and that qi is hardly ‘external qi.’ The ancient sages explained this in detail, each aspect having its use; beginners simply cannot accomplish it, and those who cling stubbornly will never obtain it. Only by never straying from the pre-heaven, from the very beginning seeking what is prior to the pre-heaven, can one succeed. When the Mystery Pass (the critical gate of Neidan) opens in all eight directions, wherever one touches is pre-heaven, like drawing aside a layer of bright gauze—the veil of the Great Net (the highest heaven in Daoist cosmology)—and seeing every treasure clearly. With a dharmakaya endowed with a thousand hands and a thousand eyes, one may pick and gather at will; what was lost before is all within this. Yet if a true teacher has not first pointed out how to open the mysterious aperture, later, even with such a thousand-handed, thousand-eyed body, from where would one recognize it? Wu Yuanzi (the Daoist name of Liu Yiming) kept this secret and did not disclose it, so I have added this explanation.

Someone asked: The prenatal endowment (the primordial qi we had before birth) seems far from me; this whole body is nothing but yin, so we cannot use this body as the basis for cultivation. Why does the Classic of Changes say “return without going far, to cultivate the self”?

The answer: The Great Dao neither abandons this body nor clings to it alone. Seeking outside the body leads to what is not of our kind and strays onto a heterodox path; seeking only within, when oneself is already pure yin, means sticking to the postnatal condition. There is another method that can bring back what was lost and make appear what was absent—this is called returning to the origin and restoring the root.

Commentary: This reply has already been explained in the earlier annotations; what those annotations describe is precisely this special method. Students should ponder it deeply and practice it sincerely—there is no case where it does not work. To trace this method to its source, one still begins with the key of zhaixin (refining and purifying the heart-mind). Once that key is thoroughly mastered, proceed according to the oral instructions transmitted by Patriarch Ma, and add the word heng (constancy)—persevere in this, and that is enough.

Someone asked: “Since what is pre-natal is neither inside the body nor outside it, where exactly is it?” The answer: “In the Single Pass of the Mysterious Gate (Xuanguan Yi Qiao)—the one subtle gate spoken of in Neidan (internal alchemy).” What is called the Mysterious Gate is a place where none of the Four Great Elements (earth, water, fire, and wind) can stick: neither being nor non-being, neither form nor emptiness, neither inside nor outside. It is also called the Gate of the Mysterious Female (Xuanpin Men), the House of Birth and Death, the Yin-Yang Aperture, the Pass of Life and Death, the Cavity of Chaos, the Altar of Dragon and Tiger (Dragon and Tiger are Neidan symbols), the Aperture of Tortoise and Serpent, the Land of Trance, the Realm of Obscurity, the Door of Outflow and Inflow (where breath and spirit-mind enter and leave), and the Gate of Wu and Ji (Wu and Ji belong to earth and stand for the center)—many names, but all one and the same Mysterious Pass.

Though it is tied to the body, it is not heart, liver, spleen, lungs, or kidneys; not eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind; not the three hundred and sixty joints, nor the eighty-four thousand pores. Since antiquity, perfected ones have refused to spell it out plainly, so many side paths have guessed wildly and searched within this visible, formed physical body (sexing)—a grave error.

I will point it out for you now: to know this aperture, you must look where the six faculties (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) hold to nothing, and where the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth) cannot reach. In the hazy in-between there is an aperture; in deep obscurity there is a gate—it opens and closes by itself; one call and it responds, one knock and it is alive, originally clear and complete. When you are lost to it, it seems a thousand miles away; when you awaken to it, it is right before your eyes. Whether you can know it with spirit-like clarity depends entirely on the person; without decades of exhausting study in principle and method, you cannot see it.

This commentary holds that the master’s step here was gained through qiongli—pushing into principle by reading and reasoning—and though it seems already within the girdle (as if one has entered this stage’s range), he has not truly attained it; that shows in what he says. His mistake lies solely in relying on books and qiongli. Anyone who understands that practice must begin from xuji (empty heart, still thoughts) will naturally know this criticism is sound.

The serious flaw in this section is in the two lines about “calling” and “knocking” (urging active pleading and striking); later he credits the outcome to qiongli. At this stage one can only enter through the two words “empty” and “still.” When practice reaches its utmost, every xuangkuang (marvelous states that arise in cultivation) may be noticed but must not be clung to.

The ancients’ “no thought, no worry” means suddenly penetrating into xuangkuang, as if returning to one’s old home—never treat it as something weird. Being and non-being, movement and stillness, fullness and emptiness, form and void, and so on—all must be released: seeing is as if not seen, knowing is as if not known; whether this pass is open or not is not to be pursued. The slightest pause or stickiness falls into illusory wandering outside the aperture; one cannot fail to guard against it.

If a person can silently keep to this secret with not one thought arising, suddenly it is like waking from a dream—vast without bound, dark and unfathomable; the ancients called this the first realm of shen zhen ru qiao (the true spirit entering the mysterious aperture). Next, signs and portents suddenly vanish on their own—called “shen zao hun mu” (the spirit entering unified still silence); then suddenly one is aware of all phenomena while the heart’s stillness remains as before—called “xuan qiao zi ju zhi huo yuan yun” (the living original yuan operating from the mysterious aperture itself). This turning is precisely the xuangkuang when huo zi (the first stir of inner yang—not necessarily clock midnight) begins at the xu hour.

At this point the student must feel as if standing on a ten-thousand-ren peak—boundless horizon, and depth the same; the ancients named this “xuangkuang of the true zi within the aperture.” Then generation and killing answer each other, change without fixed pattern, and scenes to meet multiply; one still watches in silence, not moving a hair of intent—called “huo wu within the aperture” (the live wu moment when yin and yang meet in the aperture).

The method then is only to add tuishe (withdraw and gather), returning to xiantian (the primordial before post-heaven thought), so yin does not overpower yang and zhonghe (central harmony) is reached. Within this is also the practice of muyu (bathing—pausing advance of fire and nurturing without rushing); only then is it true person, true resonance, true response.

This mysterious aperture shares one breath with creation. Without emptiness to the extreme and stillness solid and true, there is absolutely no principle of opening and entering. The ancients said that within it are gathered heaven and earth, the Five Phases, yin-yang, and the sancai (heaven, earth, humanity); birth and extinction both happen here. Great cultivators all zhuji (lay the foundation of inner work) here. The six kinds of immortal kin—heaven, water, earth, humanity, spirit, ghost—all arise from here, as the Xiwangmu Nü Xiuzheng Tu Shi Ze (Ten Rules of the Western Queen Mother on the Correct Path) explains in full. Gaining it depends on jigan and jiying (stimulus and response).

Someone asked: “The Xuan Guan Yi Qiao (the single crucial gate spoken of in Neidan [internal alchemy])—since it is neither inside the body nor outside it, why is it called the Yin-Yang aperture? Do people not have Yin and Yang in themselves?”

The reply was: “A person receives the Qi of Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang and Five Phases and thereby takes form; within that form are again the Qi of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases. The spirit of Yin is Po; the spirit of Yang is Hun. Hun and Po in the body are like people dwelling in a house. The Xuan Guan is the gate through which Hun and Po come and go. Only this gate has no form and no image: it opens and closes in emptiness, and Hun and Po likewise enter and leave in emptiness. Because it is in emptiness, it is neither within the body nor outside it; every movement and stillness of the body is likewise within emptiness. Reflect for yourself: why can the body walk, stand, sit, and lie down, speak and be silent, bend and stretch? All such things issue from the Xuan Guan. Where exactly is this message? If you can know it, you will have seen the gate of Yin and Yang, and thereby you can preserve body-life and nature (xingming).”

Commentary: This mysterious aperture truly cannot be grasped by guesswork and debate alone. For it is no ordinary aperture, but the boundary between pre-heaven and post-heaven. According to the understanding of alchemical scriptures, the very place where a thought first stirs is the Xuanpin (the Yin-Yang gate of the same kind as the Xuan Guan). Therefore this mysterious aperture should be sought in the space before the spine and behind the heart palace (jigong), waiting in empty stillness until, when practice matures, it appears of itself. I heard this from the two perfected ones Huang and Li, who are still in the world. Yi De (the compiler Min Yide’s self-designation) has often found it efficacious and dares not keep it private, so it is added here as a supplement.

Someone asked: “If Yin and Yang are both within oneself, then cultivating nature and life must depend on oneself and cannot be borrowed from anyone else. Why did the ancients also say, ‘Do not take this body as the Dao; you must recognize and grasp the undying method from the other side’?”

The reply was: “This is said from the perspective of the acquired constitution. At birth, nature and life originally belong to one household, and Yin and Yang originally are one qi. As one grows, by about sixteen years of age yang qi is already full, and a trace of yin qi secretly arises. Then Qian and Kun couple: Qian, from full, becomes empty and turns into Li; Kun, from empty, becomes full and turns into Kan. Li holds nature (xing); Kan holds life (ming). The true yang is sunk in Kan, like a tiger rushing west and dwelling there. Life is no longer one’s own; what remains in oneself is purely yin substance. If one only guards this body in cultivation, one is merely refining acquired essence and qi and cannot attain the wholly yang perfected body. Therefore one must use the ‘other side’s’ undying method—that is, the bit of yang essence trapped in Kan. Because it is sunk in Kan and not owned by oneself, it is called the ‘other side’; it does not mean other people or things outside the body. To take it as something outside the body is to slander the sage’s Dao and merits falling into the hell of tongue-plucking. Yuanduzi said, ‘A bit of yang essence is secretly hidden in the body—not in heart and kidneys, but in the Mysterious Pass, the single aperture (xuanguan yiqiao),’ and that is exactly what is meant.”

This reply still only describes the preliminary oral formula of the earthly-immortal line for consolidating primordial qi (yuanqi). Yet if the Mysterious Pass—the key aperture in internal alchemy where yin and yang meet throughout the body—has not been opened, cultivation is useless. Patriarch Taixu said: Zi Duke of Following the Du Channel (Zhao Youqin) was a Confucian scholar who had gained true transmission, but unfortunately he held something back. When he said “it lies not in the heart and kidneys but in the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass,” he had in fact already leaked the first-step practice secret—only he did not speak plainly enough, which was enough to mislead people. That was our patriarch’s view.

Reading Master Wuyuan’s (Liu Yiming) reply today, I fear he too was led astray by the same old formulas. Those old formulas were mostly spoken with deliberate intent. The one who could see through them was only Mud-Pill Patriarch Chen (Chen Nan) of our Southern School. Patriarch Chen sighed over this, which is why he said that Purple Yang Patriarch Zhang (Zhang Boduan), in transmitting the dharma, had not yet spread the heart of it widely enough. If even a sage like Purple Yang could be misled by the old sayings, why blame Duke Zhao?

I have read Duke Zhao’s book. It records an unrestricted Buddha assembly (a gathering where all may participate without exclusion), and also says: “Without true transmission, how would one know gathering and extraction?” Clearly he must have heard the true secret of gathering and extraction; like Master Wuyuan, he feared heavenly reprimand and only revealed this much. Still, the line “not in the heart and kidneys but in the single aperture of the Mysterious Pass” already hints at the practice formula.

Later students whose true yang has been broken and whose primordial qi is depleted should only apply the work of “deep plowing and planting the seed,” so that the visible illusion can draw forth the subtle. Without understanding deep plowing and planting, one cannot return to the root and restore the origin. Deep plowing begins with the three contemplations; when the three contemplations are mature, that counts as planting. What is the seed? It is kindred of the same type. Once one recognizes that kindred and knows gathering and extraction, forming the spiritual embryo still depends on coagulation and fulfillment—it is not merely consolidating the origin! If the sequence from beginning to end is not pointed out clearly for them, they will inevitably go on trusting heterodox teachings.

I heard Elder Tai Xu say: Heterodox teachings spread mainly because practitioners fail to break through the critical pass and fail to recognize their own kind. The direct instruction for breaking through is simply to settle body and mind in what comes before the innate—the primal state before yin and yang divide—and cultivate until you are utterly at ease. Then, without forcing, the Xuanguan (the mysterious pass spoken of in internal alchemy) opens, appears, and is entered on its own. You need only remember two things: do not fix on forms or deliberately chase thoughts, and do not let the moment slip by when it is right in front of you.

When practice reaches the first glimpse—or the moment you have already seen it—the Xuanguan vanishes the instant a thought stirs. The subtle visions within shift with every flicker of mind, so you worry about losing stability or breaking off halfway. The secret is to rest your spirit in a place that is neither knowing nor not-knowing, until the myriad cares no longer arise and even a trace of bright awareness is stilled. That is the utmost depth of profound quiet—already inside the mysterious aperture.

Then a thought suddenly rises: watch it in stillness. You may feel breath responding of itself, as if a bell rings though nothing strikes it—this is the moment of the first stirring of yang. You must also hold the key of “silent as emptiness,” and guard against the fault of “wood fixation” (clinging in rigid stillness). The secret is to follow that stirring and penetrate inward—this is when the Xuanguan opens wide. If you fall into wood fixation, the ancients called it inner and outer rigidity.

At this stage the realm turns springlike and summery—warm breezes, bright flowers, shaded willows. If you are truly blind and deaf, the six gates (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) shut tight and no aperture opens—you have missed it. If you then rush about in confusion and cloud your original nature, you are chasing externals—enough to delay yourself.

The secret is to release the true yuan so it merges with the origin of the realm, while inwardly you still nurture intention and will: turn the mind within, empty and still. Then you already feel a supreme clarity and moistness within. However noisy the outer world, let it be. This is the mysterious state described as “when practice reaches noon, ten thousand paths open at once.”

The secret is then to do the work of retreating yin (turning from fullness toward gathering)—which is simply to hold in the heart the intent to gather and restrain the will. The true yuan naturally returns like clouds into a cave, and rosy light alone circles an empty valley. Suddenly warmth gives way to solemn stillness—this is the mysterious state of Shen and You (the phase after midday when yin begins to gather).

The secret method consists entirely in the work of “retreating yin”: in practice that means only settling the mind and gathering the will. Vital qi (yuanqi) then returns on its own, like clouds drifting back into a cavern; before you lies only rosy light circling an empty valley. When harmony suddenly turns solemn and still, you reach the hidden scenery of the shen and you hours (roughly three to seven in the afternoon). Gazing long in silence, the inner scene takes on the quality of winter; at that stage the work corresponds to the first line of the Qian hexagram—yang just sinking beneath the surface, not yet to be applied. Even at this point one must not stop. The formula simply directs the spirit (shen) to gather toward the lower extreme (the lowest point in the body); when the whole body is filled with gentle, harmonizing qi, you ease off and rest. That is the opening practice for cultivating the Mysterious Pass (xuan guan), the crucial gate where spirit and qi meet.

When you have completed a hundred days in this way, you may speak of further work. As for formulas such as “planting the seed”: those who have the means may prepare the primordial seed in advance; those without may still practice quietly in the midst of the marketplace. The highest approach is to form, in a pure place, what is likened to an “unobstructed assembly”—originally a Buddhist image of a gathering open to all without rank, here borrowed for a union that is wholly exposed yet perfectly complete. Whether it is achieved through deliberate arrangement, through hidden cultivation, or through such a “completed assembly,” each path has its own supreme use.

What has been said above completes only the move of “deep plowing.” The sages of old called this the foundation of xing study (cultivating nature) and ming study (cultivating life). This is the great Dao that Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming) kept secret. Fearing that later students would go astray with no way to recover in a lifetime, I add it here. These are oaths sworn among successive holy perfected ones, transmitted orally at the third watch of the night and never written down; whoever sees them must not treat them lightly. Everything hinges on deep plowing: shallow work yields a small harvest; pure, mature work fills the storehouse. That is the ultimate principle—do not waste yourself.

“Planting the seed” means arranging the “living dragon and living tiger” in the elixir chamber (inner-alchemy images for the two kinds of primordial qi) to summon true primordial qi (zhen yuan). The man draws forth Kun-origin; the woman draws forth Qian-origin; the two currents of qi respond to each other and meet in the void, and something must be generated. One uses one’s own intermediary to lead it within and form the inner “husband and wife”—no more than what immortals use to extend life. Only by opening one’s own Yin’e (the outline and root of the elixir foundation), inwardly resonating with the Three Origins (sanyuan), and borrowing the true fire within can one strip yin and retain yang, practicing day by day and refining month by month.

Only by opening up one’s own yan’e—the elixir foundation and root of life spoken of in neidan—and inwardly resonating with the Three Origins (heaven, earth, and human), and with the aid of the central true fire, stripping away yin substance and retaining yang qi; practicing day by day and refining month by month until the two are fused into one, and then waiting for the moment to activate—when one resonates with Mother Kun (the true yin symbolized by Kun) and receives her command, the true-oneness qi of the human origin descends and pairs with what is in the body; true meets true and they unite in virtue, and the true fire ignites of itself. From this one refines the millet pearl (the first elixir embryo, small as a grain of millet), and with mind-intent leads it down to the utmost point of the central yellow (Central Huangting), where it turns like a precious orb, covered and guarded by rosy clouds; nurturing it is like a woman carrying a pregnancy—this is “forming the embryo.” The method is simply to preserve it through emptiness and stillness, then day by day gently warm it and moment by moment nourish it. To know and nurture it in this way, when the work is ripe it is said to be neither one nor not one, neither two nor not two—this is the secret formula for achieving a celestial immortal. My master Great Void Elder’s profound teaching is exactly this. This is also what Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming) meant by the “true function of attaining the body of complete pure yang.” If one merely follows what the master originally indicated, one still belongs to that bit of primordial arising from illusory qi mutually sensing and joining—it cannot yet be called the body of complete pure yang. He also did not fully disclose the firing times and the method, so I record this and add a supplement.

Question: Since nature and life belong to Kan and Li, is the heart Li and the kidneys Kan?

Answer: That is only the Kan and Li of the post-heaven illusory body (the body born of one’s parents, with form and subject to decay)—not the Kan and Li of the pre-heaven Dharma body (the original body realized in cultivation). In the Dharma body, Li becomes Li because it has departed from its yang; Kan becomes Kan because it has hidden its truth. Once Li has left its yang, what remains must be yin; once Kan has hidden its truth, what is hidden must be yang. Li is the solar soul (rihun): it has the image of clinging brightness, yet outwardly male and inwardly female—within the soul there is the spirit (po). Kan is the lunar soul (yuepo): it has the image of dimness, yet outwardly dark and inwardly white—within the spirit there is the soul (hun). This central yin and yang, possessing the upright body of Qian and Kun, are the true yin and true yang—the root of nature and life. The elixir path takes these two qi, combines them into truth, and only then can one transcend the mundane and enter sagehood—how can that be compared to the post-heaven visible Kan and Li?

Someone asked: “Kan (Water—in internal alchemy often the kidneys, where true yang is stored) and Li (Fire—often the heart) are said to be true yin and true yang. In ‘taking from Kan to fill Li,’ what yang is taken, and what yin is filled?”

The answer: “This speaks of returning from the post-heaven to the pre-heaven. The yin that is filled is yin belonging to ‘our house’—oneself—post-heaven yin, false yin: the seven kinds of cinnabar in Li, namely the body’s tears, saliva, essence, fluids, qi, blood, and liquids. These seven substances cannot be held for long. The yang in Kan belongs to ‘the other house’—what is not ruled by post-heaven consciousness—pre-heaven true yang. One takes this true yang from Kan to fill the false yin in one’s Li, like a cat catching a mouse: using the pre-heaven to transform the post-heaven, true yang restraining false yin. One must not treat false yin as true yin. False yin is produced by heaven and earth; true yin is what can give birth to heaven and earth—how can they be confused?”

They asked again: “Can you explain how true yin and yang and false yin and yang actually work?”

The answer: “True yin and yang are like a husband and wife properly matched by a go-between; false yin and yang are like men and women who meet in secret. Once secret liaisons are exposed, life and integrity are harmed—not only is there no benefit, there is harm. What the go-between joins is open and upright: bearing children and grandchildren—who can split or ruin it? Because what is real can accomplish things and what is false ruins them, the perfected person (zhiren) does not use the false but takes the true.”

Someone asked: “To harmonize Yin and Yang, one must use the Yellow Woman (Huang Po)—the go-between who joins Yin and Yang in internal alchemy, often identified with the intent rooted in the central earth—as mediator. Where is the Yellow Woman?” The answer: “In the central earth. The Yijing says ‘yellow at the center penetrates and clarifies principle’—meaning yellow occupies the center and reaches through to ordered pattern. Central earth is precisely what harmonizes Yin and Yang, gathers the Four Symbols (the four directional images), and concentrates the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). In practice, without this earth, how could Yin and Yang be harmonized, the Four Symbols united, or the Five Phases gathered? That is why earth is singled out as the warrant of trust (the sincerity and reliability that in the five constants correspond to earth) on which Yin and Yang, the Four Symbols, and the Five Phases depend.”

Another asked: “Does earth differ as true and false, or as pre-heaven and post-heaven?” The answer: “How could it not? For example, in each of the four seasons earth is strong for eighteen days—that earth is formless, belongs to the pre-heaven, and is the qi of earth. The earth of the great land is formed and visible, belongs to the post-heaven, and is the substance of earth. Qi is true; substance is false. It is not only earth—the Four Symbols and the Five Phases are the same.”

Still another asked: “If false earth is not used, why can the false earth of the great land still nourish the myriad things?” The answer: “The true borrows the false to manifest its function; the false borrows the true to give rise to form. Without the false, the true cannot appear; without the true, the false cannot appear either. The false is within the true, and the true is within the false. The great Dao’s return from post-heaven to pre-heaven is also this meaning.”

Someone asked: "If Kan (the Water trigram) and Li (the Fire trigram) lack Wu and Ji, even though they contain within them the Four Symbols (the qi of Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire), they cannot form the elixir (Neidan, internal alchemy). Are these two Earth elements, Wu and Ji, simply alternate names for the true and the false?"

The reply: "The Wu and Ji spoken of here are the innate Earth of which I speak, not the acquired Earth. There is Wu and Ji in the innate, and there is also Wu and Ji in the acquired. In terms of the innate: within Li there is Ji, and within Kan there is Wu. Wu is Earth that holds movement within stillness, and belongs to Yang; Ji is Earth that holds stillness within movement, and belongs to Yin. What is called 'guarding the central palace' (zhonggong, the central position) is the still Earth; what is called 'attracting and capturing the innate' is the moving Earth. When these two Earth elements are present to pair with Kan and Li, Water and Fire can mutually support each other and form the elixir—this is the path of cultivating against the ordinary course. In terms of the acquired: the single Yin within Li is false Yin, not pure Yin—it is bright on the outside but dark within, becoming restless Ji Earth that cannot be still; the single Yang within Kan is false Yang, not pure Yang—genuine qi is blocked and deviant qi is exposed, becoming recklessly active Wu Earth. With Earth elements such as these, human life and nature are harmed, Water and Fire cannot mutually support each other, and cultivation fails. Given such distinctions, how can they be lumped together?"

They asked again: "In the innate Wu and Ji, are they used together, or separately?"

The reply: "In terms of returning the elixir (huandan, the elixir formed by reversal), one uses the inner Ji Earth to attract the outer Wu Earth, using Ji to seek and gather the medicine (capturing the material used in cultivation). In terms of the Great Elixir, one uses the outer Wu Earth to return to the inner Ji Earth, letting emotion return to nature and form the embryo (ningjie cheng tai, condensing into a fetus). This is using them separately. When gathering the medicine, if the inner Ji Earth does not initiate first, the outer Wu Earth will not respond; if the outer Wu Earth does not move, the inner Ji Earth has no response either. Inner and outer complete each other, and only then does the medicine arise from emptiness. When forming the embryo, if the inner Ji Earth does not go out to receive, the outer Wu Earth cannot return; if the outer Wu Earth does not move, the inner Ji Earth cannot act. Movement and stillness unite as one, and only then does the embryo form naturally. This is using them together."

Someone asked: How should one distinguish the principles of huandan (returning elixir) and dadan (great elixir)? The answer: Huandan means returning to the original—within the post-heaven, turning back toward the pre-heaven. Dadan means cultivating that original—bringing forth a true form from what had no form.

From the moment a person reaches the peak of yang and yin begins to arise, day after day yin qi erodes yang qi, and pre-heaven qi gradually dissipates; what was originally there is greatly depleted. What is meant by “returning” is to follow the method and draw it back—little by little gathering, little by little reclaiming—until the quantity that was originally present is restored. It is like something lost that is found again, or something that had gone away that comes back: that is huandan.

Yet even when the original quantity is made whole, without passing through the refining fire of the furnace, one cannot bring form from the formless or substance from the insubstantial. Therefore, after huandan is complete, one must set up the furnace anew and establish the cauldron again—the furnace and cauldron are metaphors for the place where internal elixir is cooked and refined. Lead is added to mercury and mercury nourishes lead—lead and mercury are terms in internal alchemy for two kinds of true qi that mutually sustain each other, not ordinary metals. With the natural true fire (the fire of true yang) one refines until it is mature, becoming something firm and indestructible, lasting as long as heaven and earth and rivaling sun and moon—only then does one fully obtain this original.

Otherwise, if huandan is finished and one does not go on to cultivate dadan, even though one has the original, it will surely not be firm and in the end one will gain it only to lose it again.

This passage concerns the final move in returning the elixir. As treated here, it is the subtle use of dwelling in the world without leaving it, and an indispensable step on the elixir path. Intent and fit differ from school to school and cannot be reduced to one formula. Yet every lineage calls it “establishing the furnace anew” and “raising the cauldron again.” Cauldron and furnace are only figures of speech.

What Wuyuanzi (Liu Yiming) points to are methods already fixed since Han and Tang; they do not reach back to the Supreme Sovereign Heart School (the line that takes innate heart-method as its root), hence phrases like “re-establish” and “raise again.” Some follow the tale of Pei Hang meeting an immortal; some follow the hidden subtleties of Patriarch Xue (Xue Daoguang)—all tread this same thoroughfare to complete the wondrous practice.

Only in our Supreme Sovereign Heart School does the footing lie in nothing outside the innate. Returning the elixir is here; the Great Elixir is here—this is the single gate. It is utmost fine and subtle, utmost dark and deep, yet also utmost centered and plain, utmost close at hand. Whoever recognizes it and puts it into practice finds it vast as the ocean, with fine meanings as many as sands in a river. The student need only cultivate ability as pervasive as a thousand hands and eyes, and refine an inexhaustible treasury of the great law; within that treasury lies a great gem that draws gold, and from it one selects and receives the transmission.

This gem is born from the limitless; it has no form, no image, no sound, no scent. Earlier sages could not name it. Because being arises from non-being and it seems like stone yet is not stone, they called it a gem only for lack of a better word. Is it a lodestone? Human true-oneness is in fact much like it. As for the thousand hands and eyes and the boundless treasury of the great law, these too are smelted from the work of overcoming the self.

Such was the arcane teaching of our late master Taixu Weng (the Empty Void Elder). Tracing his method, it is nothing beyond laying down the ten thousand ties and letting a single thought rest in the Kun position (the place where mind is stilled and settled), from which function opens. It is precisely thus. Not daring to keep this as a private possession, I offer it here to supplement what Master Wuyuan did not spell out.

Someone asked: Regarding Huandan (Return Elixir) and Daidan (Great Elixir), if one follows the refined explanations of earlier masters and traces the practice through to its methods, nothing goes beyond letting go of all entanglements and settling the mind in the Kun position—the belly and the lower Dantian (energy center). For this reason, what follows is not kept private: it supplements what Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming, styled Wuyuanzi) did not spell out in his writings.

Another question: Are Huandan and Daidan the same as neiyao (internal medicine) and waiyao (external medicine)? Answer: The terms are used in more than one way. From the standpoint of where the alchemical path begins and ends, methods that prolong life count as external medicine, while the path that realizes one’s original nature counts as internal medicine. Without external medicine, one cannot leave behind the illusory body (the flesh); without internal medicine, one cannot leave behind the Dharma body (the spiritual body cultivated in practice). External medicine is for forming the embryo; internal medicine is for delivering the embryo from it. In terms of Huandan, Kan (Water, symbolizing the kidney) is external medicine and Li (Fire, symbolizing the heart) is internal medicine; in terms of Daidan, true lead is external medicine and true mercury is internal medicine. Ancient authors used these words with different referents; one must not cling to the literal wording or fixate on surface images.

Again: True lead is in Kan and true mercury in Li; once Huandan has congealed and lead and mercury have joined, why do lead and mercury appear again in Daidan? Are there four lead-and-mercury pairs in all? Answer: What Huandan employs is the lead within Kan and the mercury within Li—that is, the innate lead and mercury stored within the postnatal realm. Bringing this lead and mercury back is called Huandan, also named Golden Elixir, true seed, or true lead. It is used to transform one’s own yin mercury, like a lodestone drawing iron. That mercury is the seven kinds of cinnabar in Li (the various yin qualities in the heart). When mercury receives the breath of lead, it dries in an instant. Then one uses the natural true fire within this already-dead true mercury to warm and nourish for ten months (long nurturing, as in gestation), regulating practice through the choutian (addition-and-subtraction) method: the breath of lead disperses bit by bit until only a single flavor of spirit cinnabar remains. When yang is pure and yin is gone, the Dharma body is complete.

Someone asked: The Golden Elixir is said to form when lead and mercury (in internal alchemy these stand for two kinds of “medicinals,” yin and yang—not ordinary metals) unite. Yet the teaching also says mercury must subdue lead, and that after ten months of warm nurturing (like carrying a pregnancy), the lead flies away and the mercury is fully dried up. Are these not contradictory?

Answer: This is celestial mechanism (tianji). From antiquity to the present it has baffled countless seekers; among ten thousand people, who truly understands? Ling-sha (spirit sand—the elixir substance condensed from innate yang essence) is the utmost yang of the pre-heaven realm. When yang reaches its peak, yin is born; pre-heaven falls into post-heaven, and the genuine is mixed with the false. Unless true lead from “the other house” (relative to one’s own body—meaning the true yang in Kan) comes to control it, this ling-sha in the end cannot truly be called one’s own. True lead inwardly holds pre-heaven true-one qi (zhenyi zhi qi); with that lead-qi one transforms one’s own spiritual mercury, and the mercury no longer runs off. Though the mercury is already fixed in death, if the lead-qi is not fully drawn out, the ling-sha still cannot congeal. Why? Lead, though it is pre-heaven qi, emerges from within the post-heaven; outwardly yin, inwardly yang—it still carries yin influence. That yin must be completely extracted before it can be firm, centered, and upright, and a pearl the size of a grain of millet appears, bright within and without, penetrating heaven and earth. Released, it fills the four directions above and below; gathered in, it retreats and hides in the secret place. The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) says: When using lead, do not use ordinary lead; when true lead has done its work, it too must be discarded. That is the true secret of using lead—to use lead until one finally does not use lead; these words are sober truth. From this one can know the principle of using lead.

If lead is used in this way, mercury can be understood by the same reasoning. When even lead and mercury (in inner alchemy, metaphors for yin and yang qi) are treated thus, are the Four Images (the four phases of yin-yang waxing and waning), the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth), heaven and earth, human beings, and all things not governed by the same principle? This is what is meant by “using qi, not substance”: one takes the function of qi, not the tangible body. From here one goes further to the great Way of “using the prior, not the posterior”: employing innate origin, not postnatal turbidity. Only when one grasps this does one truly know the subtle meaning of return (reverting from the postnatal to the innate). Those who study the Way should put this into practice themselves. The scripture says: “Refine essence into qi, refine qi into spirit, refine spirit back into emptiness, refine emptiness to merge with the Dao, refine the Dao to merge with nature.” The order of return is exactly this. When cultivation reaches this stage, one can master birth and death for oneself. If practice does not reach this point, one will inevitably meet demonic obstacles and regress—regressing until one can only submit to fate. How regrettable! To trace the effect of this work, it begins entirely with fully exerting oneself. There has never been anyone who could fully realize nature and life (bring nature to fulfillment and arrive at destiny) without first having fully exerted themselves. The testament of my master, the Great Empty Elder (Daxu Weng), is precisely this.

Someone asked: “Since Returning Elixir (huandan) and Great Elixir (dadan) are distinct, are their fire timings (huohou) also distinct?” The answer was: “They are. The fire timing for Returning Elixir lies in the Living Zi Hour (huozi shi); that for Great Elixir lies in the True Zi Hour (zhengzi shi). In the Living Zi Hour, one does not divide zi and wu by the marks on a clock; in the True Zi Hour, the elixir is completed within a single two-hour period (shi).

What is meant by distinguishing zi and wu within moments is that in every quarter-hour there is a juncture where yin begins to arise and yang to grow: when one meets zi, one advances the yang fire; when one meets wu, one withdraws the yin tally (yinfu). The Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine) says: “Within one day’s twelve double-hours, wherever the mind reaches, one may apply effort.” This means one must gauge the waxing and waning of yin and yang by intent and apply the work accordingly—this is precisely the Living Zi Hour, when one gathers the medicine without being tied to fixed clock times.

What is meant by the elixir forming in one shi is that in that shi one must share virtue with Heaven and Earth, brightness with sun and moon, sequence with the four seasons, and fortune and misfortune with ghosts and spirits. This juncture is hard to obtain and easy to miss; life and death hang on it, nature (xing) and life (ming) depend on it. The perfected person (zhiren) in that shi exerts great action and sets the great mechanism in motion, fully “capturing” the numbers of Heaven and Earth and of the myriad things; drives the dragon away and goes to the tiger, then uses the tiger to command the dragon—the dragon and tiger being the two medicinal substances of one yin and one yang in inner refinement—enters the Yellow Chamber (huangfang, the central dantian), and condenses them into the supreme treasure. This is the True Zi Hour, when the elixir is harmonized and formed in one shi.

Someone asked: When the Living Hour or the True Hour arrives, how can one know? The answer: If you do not understand how these work inwardly, how could you recognize them? As for the Living Hour—the moment when innate true yang stirs within (not the clock-hour of midnight)—innate qi is veiled by acquired conditioning and cannot arise on its own; even when it flickers up, it is mixed with human desire and lost as soon as it appears. Why? Because what is false is taken for what is true. When the perfected person catches innate qi at the very instant it stirs, they apply method to pursue and gather it, gradually harvesting it; once the “medicinal” substance has accumulated sufficiently, they add further warming and nurturing, until qi is full and spirit complete. When the True Hour comes, the great elixir forms; in an instant it is gathered and taken inward, united with one’s own true “mercury” (in inner alchemy, a figure for the primordial spirit), restoring the undivided breath of primordial chaos—thus aligning with the great transformation of heaven and earth. After taking the elixir, one enters seven days of chaos, showing the image of death and rebirth; the post-heaven hexagram lines (using Yijing hexagrams to denote acquired change) are exchanged, the root sprout of the innate appears, and from then on cultivation moves from deliberate action (youwei) into non-action (wuwei).

This teaching begins from post-Qin and Han dynasty practice methods, hence the elaborate explanations. The method is intricate and arduous; though some effects may appear easily, among ten thousand practitioners perhaps only one truly completes it. The flaw is that it does not take its stand in “what precedes the Prior Heaven”—the root source more fundamental than the Prior Heaven itself.

When you examine this method, it stresses deliberate action and applied technique, so there is almost no chance of meeting Pre-Heaven Qi. What it calls “primordial chaos” is in fact yang sunk within yin; hence it takes seven days before yang begins to emerge. Occasionally someone gains spirit communication or visions and transformations; people who do not understand this follow and revere them, yet none of it accords with the Great Dao in the slightest. Our lineage has warned about this; my own virtue is shallow, and I dare not endorse it.

My master Taixu Weng also discussed it: in this method, whether in solitary or dual cultivation, an external attendant must be kept on hand. Solitary practice is only entering deep stillness; one must prepare a fine invoking chime and strike it beside the ear, waiting until the reverberation is nearly gone before striking again. Those in shallow trance wake at one strike; those in deep trance may need three, five, or seven strikes, yet all will wake. If one moves their body, among ten people no more than two or three awaken; even when they do, they inevitably suffer strange illness—the same holds for dual cultivation. If they still do not wake, the external attendant must concentrate mind and spirit, or press mouth to mouth with the one in trance, and that alone can rouse them. If they remain unconscious, in dual cultivation both die; in solitary cultivation, one dies alone.

My late master said: Long ago I traveled at Dongting and passed a thatched hermitage. It was where Master Jing had settled; for years he had held open universal assemblies. That day, before I had entered the gate, an old woman rushed out from within, greatly agitated. Suddenly a child ran after her calling “Mother!” looking very pleased. The old woman asked why; the child said, “Aunt Qing has woken!” The old woman then went back inside.

I found it strange and followed them inside. Before I could ask anything, Sister Qing had already come down the steps. When she saw me she was overjoyed and said, “It really is you—it really is you.” She then led me into the hall. Sister Qing said, “The east seat is so-and-so, the west seat is so-and-so; on the north side, the left is so-and-so, and on the right is your disciple. My spirit had gone outward and I saw my master standing quietly beside the hermitage, and then I awoke. I thought it was a dream, but it was truly you.” She added that after the whole assembly had chanted the Buddha’s name and taken their seats together, this change had occurred.

When I heard this, I composed myself and looked carefully; I judged that the whole hall showed no sign of death. I then fetched the inverted hand bell (the small bronze bell used in ritual to guide the pace) and struck it in order. Those on the east and west sides all revived, but the person in the seat to Sister Qing’s left still did not wake after seven strikes. I had Sister Qing sit on the right, told her to gather her spirit, and directed her mind toward that person’s body in samadhi. After about a quarter of an hour, that person too awoke.

Everyone prostrated and said, “We had entered a realm of mist and could not tell east from west. Suddenly we heard Pulao’s voice (the beast of legend whose cry is like a great bell—here meaning the sound of the bell and chime) carried on the wind; our minds steadied slightly, and only then did we wake.” A monk on the left seat—Sister Qing’s cousin from Tonglu, sixteen years old, a disciple of the abbess Master Jing—said, “Mist covered my eyes; I strayed into an ice cellar, my body stiff and unable to move. The bell sounded deep and long, yet the mist grew heavier. Suddenly warm energy flowed through body and mind, and my heart came alive. I heard my master’s call and woke as if from a dream.”

I told them: this is entering samadhi (the mind gathered inward, entering deep stillness). If it happens again, you must not move anyone onto a bed to sleep; still use the bell to call them—none will fail to wake. Among those who enter samadhi together, whoever wakes first must not leave the seat; you must wait until everyone has woken before coming down. For the whole hall to enter samadhi together is a rare opportunity in a thousand years; the pity is that they had only reached hundun (the hazy, undifferentiated early stage of concentration), not yet qingkong (the clear, empty realm of luminous stillness). Even those who can reach this stage must not be moved to a bed to sleep—the bell must be used to summon them; whoever wakes first must not leave the seat, and only when all have awakened may they descend.

This time we entered samadhi together in the hall—a truly once-in-a-millennium affinity. Regrettably, we had only just entered hundun (the state in which mind and thoughts cease and all distinction falls away), and had not yet reached complete empty clarity, when visions already arose: the warmth of spring, stars and moon shining again, jade-green waters thousands of fathoms deep, and hibiscus blooming on both banks; then we sank back into hundun and awoke. In this way we were already not far from the Dao. Now Master Xijing has also entered this realm, and the hermitage has no one to preside over it. How could I cling only to fixed rules and fail to adapt? Fortunately this matter has been reported above; auspicious clouds (qingyun) cover and protect us, and Buddha and Heaven will surely extend their grace and shelter. That is why I stand in vigil beside the hermitage. Sister Qing, each of you must exert yourselves.

This passage from our late master was collected by Mr. Qiaoyun in the Jin Gai Diary; cultivators of the true Dao may take it as a reference, and so it is appended here.

Question: If the way of the Golden Elixir is such that once attained it is forever attained, why is there still the danger of dying and being reborn?

Answer: The hour of Zi (midnight, when yang qi first stirs) is the moment when life and nature are joined. When true lead (a metaphor for innate yang qi) meets true mercury (a metaphor for innate yin essence) and the two merge, the hundred meridians all still, the ten thousand concerns utterly silent, and the person enters the aperture of hundun. One slip, and the great elixir leaks away at once. For this is the critical pass: receiving life happens here, and harming life happens here too. Hence the ancients said: “Seven days in hundun—death and return to life depend entirely on the companion’s tuning of water and fire (guarding and regulating the warm and cool phases of the alchemical fire).”

Someone asked: “The pivotal mechanism of forming the elixir (Neidan) lies in oneself—how can a partner harmonize water and fire (Yin-Yang)?” The answer was: “This is not water and fire from an external partner, but water and fire of an inner partner: people of one mind and shared intent who can harmonize Yin-Yang to augment my power. At first I am host and they are guest; then I am guest and they are host. When the two meet, temperaments align; their person and mine interpenetrate, and lead and mercury (the true Yin and Yang medicinals) coalesce. One water and one fire cook themselves in the cauldron-furnace (the body-mind employed in refinement); one dragon and one tiger devour each other in the chamber of creation (where Yin and Yang generate life within). Spirit concentrates and Qi gathers, and the infant (the embryo of the first-formed elixir) takes shape. Without the work of such a partner, how could one reach this stage? Yet a partner of this kind is hardest to find. Alas! Ordinary people who seek the treasure of heaven must, when the time comes, spend the wealth of the world. If one’s practice is slight and one is stingy, no immortal will consent to come.”

The editorial note explains: what the answer points to is the inner partner who corresponds to the meeting and union of dragon and tiger; hence they are called people of one mind and shared intent. This is not clinging to “mud and water” (seeking outward male–female supplementing), yet it still belongs to the principle of seeking heaven’s treasure by using worldly wealth when the moment arrives. If one practices little yet grudges much, immortals will not come.

What this appended note says is precisely about the inner companion in the Dragon–Tiger Gou meeting—hence the phrase “people of one mind and shared intent.” Dragon and Tiger are the two kinds of Qi that face each other and meet in practice; Gou is encounter and union; the inner companion is the partner who cultivates together. This is not “mud and water” (the kind of dual cultivation that borrows bodily union); it is still Qi and Shen harmonizing through De (Virtue/Power). What is obtained in this way is only grain after grain of Tianbao (heavenly treasure); that treasure is not the true treasure—it is like what the “unique holy aunt” (Buer Sheng Gu) called something to hush a crying child: yellow leaves, not real gold. Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming), it seems, had not personally gone through this, and took the ancient masters’ “reaching the empty void and descending Tianbao” to mean this very affair—hence talk of the “spirit infant taking form” (ying’er cheng xiang). Later students must ponder this with great care.

If the companion is truly a seed-planting partner (one who together plants the seed of cultivation)—without loosening robes or undoing belts—Dragon and Tiger alike use pure Qi and Shen, meet, and penetrate into the empty void; in that pure realm of emptiness they swallow each other. Below, I only open up Yin’e (the foundation that bears and gathers the elixir) and wait in emptiness; what is produced by the union of the planted Dragon and Tiger Shen will naturally descend into my “valley.” I need only redouble stillness and empty spirit, and it will merge with my true mercury within. I must only guard against inner distractions, and there will be no other mishap. When the work is done, this place will suddenly feel doubly secure and at ease.

If, by heaven’s grace, at the very moment of seed-planting union the Holy Father and Holy Mother of heaven and earth (the sacred realm of heaven–earth yin–yang) should descend, essence meeting in the void, Tianbao must appear, like sun and moon joined, suspended in emptiness. Then my Yin’e is open, true yin has accumulated deep as the mysterious garden (xuan pu), and I may intend to rise and welcome it—I will naturally obtain Tianbao, as needle and lodestone meet, without other change.

If my Yin’e here is not yet ready and true yin is still scant, I can only barely catch a little leftover shade; the body is no more than standing with its back to the sun. If I overestimate my strength and rashly intend to welcome it from above, there is the disaster of “fire blazing on Kun Hill”—jade and stone burned together; even with a knowing companion, both turn to ash. What the ancient masters called Tianbao is this treasure; what they called “worldly wealth” is Yin’e and true yin. Because this Tianbao is fiercer than a ball of fire, when true yin no longer matches it, one cannot safely receive it.

Once you lose yourself to outer appearances, the physical body will at once turn to ashes, and there is no remedy. Even with a treasure like the one the master obtained—though born from the union of the "living dragon and living tiger" (a metaphor for the true qi of yin and yang)—if you draw it back and return it to yourself, you must still ask: if my cultivation of nature (xing, the refinement of heart-and-mind) is not yet thorough, and my cultivation of life (ming, the work on essence and vital force) is not yet complete, the danger is likewise extreme. Someone who understands this Way must quietly assist at your side before you can be safe. For when the treasure returns to the Northern Sea (the Water direction, the lower Dantian region), what must be avoided above all is fire from the South shining upon it—that fire is the fire of desire. At such a moment abnormal pleasure will inevitably arise. I am not one who retains pristine innocence (one whose original essence has never leaked); even a pristine innocent, once emotional awareness has opened, will surely have heard of such things. The temper of the age is what it is—what is called "true" is no longer truly so. Once the body has tasted this pleasure, it is hard not to slip into the sea of passion. This is the greatest danger and cannot be guarded against too strictly. The master had already considered this, which is why he earlier warned of "one moment of carelessness." When a practitioner reaches this point, they must at once gather body and mind into the Village of Not-Even-Anything (the realm of emptiness), and fix intention before the spine and behind the heart—this is called following the back of Gen (from the Gen hexagram, "keeping to the back," holding still and not chasing desire); yet one still fears the fire of desire flaring again. Then a kindred spirit must protect from outside, cautiously rousing from within; all three together follow the rule, and use striking the stone chime as the signal. The ancients left a method; the method says: raise the black baleful influence (yin turbid qi) from Yongquan (Bubbling Spring at the sole), ascend to join the life mystery at the sea bottom (the life aperture at the perineum), then reverse from the utmost depth of the Northern Sea, rise along the back, pass through the spine to the brain, gather at the void realm (the empty space at the crown), and from the void realm pour forward and down. When you feel fire descending from the face to the chest, there will surely be Xun wind (the gentle surging inner qi within the body) moving inside. Then you will see earth dark and heaven yellow (the image of chaotic heaven and earth), and afterward heaven clear and earth at peace—only then may you quietly guard the mystery aperture (the xuanguan yiqiao), practice according to the first line of the Qian hexagram, and stop after the four-six breaths. This is called assisted regulation.

This passage explains that one circulates internal qi through the cultivation companion, causing it to rise and then infuse it outward into one’s own body; one must also rely on the ritual bell (a implement used in paired practice) so that the four elements can merge into one. As for the kind of sacred companion people imagine in idle fantasy—noble as an emperor, possessing all the wealth in the world, with virtue comparable to the Four Worthies (Yan Yuan, Zengzi, Zisi, and Mencius) and achievements rivaling Yi Yin and the Duke of Zhou—without karmic affinity from past lives, one will never meet such a person. The perfected person takes pity on students, and so there arose the subtle method of “deep plowing and planting seeds, using illusion to hook the mysterious truth”: working deeply in ordinary places to plant seeds, and using illusory forms to draw forth what is mysteriously real. This is not a taste for novelty; it is because such a sacred companion depends entirely on heaven’s affinity—otherwise attaining the Dao would be far too hard. Among those who achieved realization in antiquity, how many truly encountered one? Master Wuyuan (Wuyuan Xiansheng, the Qing-dynasty Daoist Liu Yiming) had already hinted at this, but what he said was incomplete and not detailed enough, so it is supplemented here.

Someone asked: Cultivators must first guard against stinginess with wealth. The teaching says worldly wealth is needed, and also that if one is the least bit stingy, immortals will not come—so is wealth to be used or not? Answer: Use it without clinging to use. Wealth is what people love. Taking wealth as the means, one can easily win people’s goodwill and exchange it for heaven’s true treasure; heaven and humanity are both contained in this single method. If one has no wealth yet wants the true treasure, that is forcing and demanding—not only will heaven not comply, people will not comply either. If the slightest stinginess remains, how could immortals come? That is why worldly wealth must be used. Yet wealth also easily corrupts virtue and harms life. Once one cannot bear to part with wealth, one is fooled by it and everywhere ordered about by it. Therefore virtue must come first and wealth after—virtue as root, wealth as branch and leaf. That is the sense in which worldly wealth is also “not used.” Moreover, this worldly wealth divides into wholesome wealth (wealth put to the right path and able to aid cultivation) and ordinary wealth (common, grasping worldly riches)—these must be distinguished.

Someone asked: “If we say that wealth is enough to win people’s favor and enough to buy the true treasure of heaven, isn’t that close to the sort of ‘inner-chamber elixir’ talk and furnace-fire refinement?”

The reply: The “person” here is a person of the Kun direction—the Yin side in internal alchemy—not a woman in the ordinary world. The “treasure” here is the treasure of heaven, not worldly gold and stone. A person of the Kun direction is an undying person—that is, an immortal drawn by what is called “worldly wealth.” The treasure of heaven is “that there is a treasure within it”—what seekers call the true treasure. To read these as women and minerals is to slander the sacred Way; that belongs to someone who has just entered the world and has not yet understood the principle.

Another asked: “Is the ‘worldly wealth’ spoken of the same as ‘method-wealth’ (fa cai)?”

The reply: Wealth is wealth and method is method—they are two things, not one—yet the teaching is to use method and wealth together. Method is the working role in refining and forging; wealth is the offering prepared when one prays with sincere heart. With method but no wealth, things hang empty and unreal, and the true treasure from the other house (the side from which the treasure comes) will not appear. With wealth but no method, the firing times go wrong, and our house (this vessel of the self) does not respond. Neither can be omitted, hence “method-wealth”: method holds wealth within it, and wealth holds method within it—it is not the gold and silver of the mundane world.

Someone asked: “If the ‘wealth’ (cai) spoken of here is not gold, silver, or ordinary money, why could Baopuzi (Ge Hong), after twenty years of hearing the Dao, not go ahead when his household had no savings? Shangyangzi (Chen Zhixu) said, ‘The poor worry about having no wealth; once they have wealth, they worry about having no companion (lu)’; Zhang Sanfeng said, ‘Golden flowers bloom in splendor—without money, cultivation is hard.’ What do these lines mean?”

The reply: “The hidden pivot and secret depth here cannot be known without a lineage transmission; one must not guess at random. The path of true cultivation has two branches: one belongs to higher De (shangde)—completing one’s form through the Dao; the other belongs to lower De (xiade)—extending life through ritual and alchemical technique. A person of higher De still has intact pure Yang; relying on the Dao to complete the form, they need no ‘wealth’—they need only Wuwei (non-action) practice, and they can complete nature (liao xing, perfecting the inner nature). When nature is complete, life (ming) is complete as well. A person of lower De has already lost what is innate; like a poor person without capital, they must borrow ‘wealth’ from elsewhere—fafa (dharma treasure, alchemical wealth—not worldly gold and silver)—and use technique to extend life, walking the path of deliberate action (youwei), before they can complete life (liao ming, finishing the work on ming). Only after ming is complete can they cultivate nature. When Baopuzi ‘heard the Dao’ for twenty years, what he heard was completing the form through the Dao. The saying that the family had no accumulation and he ‘could not go ahead’ means he had not accumulated fafa and could not extend life through technique—it does not mean he lacked silver and therefore could not cultivate. If silver were truly required, Baopuzi came from a noble official family—how could he have had no savings? Or consider Ma Danyang, who possessed half a province’s wealth—why did he leave his family to live in want at Tiecha? Why did Liu Haichan abandon the chancellor’s post and wander the rivers and lakes? Why did Scholar Luo give up rank and riches to accept poverty and plain living? Most ancient sages acted similarly. Who would discard ready silver in hand and instead hunt for treasure others can hardly find? Clearly another meaning is intended—it is not ordinary worldly wealth.”

The principle of wealth and possessions applies in the same way to human beings—this can be inferred by analogy. With riches spanning half a province and rank as high minister or chancellor, what could one still fail to obtain? Even emperors like Qin Shi Huang and Han Wudi could hardly find it difficult to amass forty-eight hundred and forty-eight cauldrons and ninety-nine thousand myriad treasures. Did not the Ode to the Epang Palace say that some palace women who painted their faces waited thirty-six years without ever seeing the emperor? From this one may gain insight.

To cultivate this Way, if the pass gate (xuanguan—the pivotal aperture spoken of in internal alchemy) does not open, true primordiality (zhen yuan, the innate root Qi) cannot be restored, the outer ramparts (yinge, the foundation that guards the inner elixir, like city walls) will crumble day by day, and the flowing pearl (liuzhu, easily scattered essence and Qi) will disperse in all directions—then nothing can be accomplished. Understand that this single aperture of the pass gate is wrapped without by the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity) and filled within by the Four Greats (earth, water, fire, and wind); originally it has no inner or outer, and no place lies outside it. It is simply one Qi—what opening or closing could there be? Only that external things themselves block it.

If body and mind can be settled before the innate (the original state untainted by the acquired), the Three Powers and I were originally one thing. The true primordiality within was never gained or lost; various losses are like treasures of the inner storehouse moved to the outer storehouse. I need only stabilize my inner storehouse, and everything can be taken back, as when reclaiming what was temporarily deposited outside. So-called superior De and inferior De (shangde, xiade—superior De approximates natural Wuwei; inferior De acts with deliberate intent) are spoken relative to present circumstances. When a person awakens on their own, they need only stabilize the inner storehouse and at every step not depart from return and reversal.

Proceed in order through refining Jing to return Qi, refining Qi to return Shen, refining Shen to return emptiness, refining emptiness to return to the Dao, until the Dao returns to the natural—then my inner storehouse has become the supreme treasury of the Dharma; the Three Times (past, present, and future) and the Three Powers all revert to a single grain-sized pearl (shuzhu, the elixir perfected, small as a millet grain). What distinction then remains between superior and inferior De? What separation between completing nature (full realization of mind-nature) and completing life (full realization of essence and vitality)? This is the oral formula of return and reversal in the Supreme Heart lineage (the elixir method that takes the Supreme Lord as ancestor and the heart as essential). Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming) did not fully clarify this point, so I record it here as a supplement.

When the Master spoke of “the world,” the world is my body; when he spoke of “wealth,” wealth is the wealth upon my person—namely Jing, Qi, and Shen. His “good” is the innate; his “ordinary” is the acquired. The innate can complete the Way; the acquired undermines it—hence they cannot be confused. The Master hinted but did not say everything, likely fearing esoteric retribution (heaven’s penalty for revealing secrets). I hold that the Way’s obscurity ultimately stems from the ancients’ compassion not being universal enough. People say Patriarch Ziyang Zhang (Zhang Boduan) thrice transmitted the Way to unworthy persons and thrice suffered heaven’s penalty. I believe the three penalties arose because he wrote in hidden language, so that crooked and greedy people took it as license—and the books he left were quite enough to mislead the world. Patriarch Cuixu Chen (Chen Nan) saw this and therefore mocked that the transmission was not broad enough. The encomium that Master Qiongguan composed for Patriarch Zhang’s portrait also carries criticism, targeting precisely this obscure style of writing.

Heaven and Earth have always wished people to honor the Great Way; writing to benefit the world and deliver those with affinity is like receiving a mandate from Heaven. Cuixu said: “I wish to deliver all people in the world.” He also said: “Would Heaven then cease to be Heaven? Since that is so, what is there to fear in speaking out the depths of the Way?” Hence this supplement.

Earlier commentators raised a question: if what is at stake is not worldly wealth, is the talk of “outer protection” not absurd? Why did Xinglin (Shi Tai) transmit the Way to Daoguang (Xue Daoguang), and what was there to keep secret? Hence this supplementary explanation.

They also asked: if it is not secular money, is the idea of outer protection not ridiculous? Why, when Xinglin (Shi Tai) passed the Way to Daoguang (Xue Daoguang), did he instruct him: “Go quickly to a great city or metropolis and rely on someone rich and powerful to act on your behalf”?

The answer is: worldly wealth can be genuine or false; can outer protection not also have an inner and an outer aspect? Inner outer protection is the Golden Husband (in neidan, true lead and pre-heaven primordial Qi), used to complete the Dharma body (the perfected true body). Outer outer protection means worldly patrons who help safeguard the illusory body (the physical frame). While this body has not yet left the mundane world, calamities can still arise. Outer protection refers to those who guard my life and destiny and assist me in completing the Way. Going to a great city or metropolis is practicing the worldly aspect of the path. Because this Way easily draws slander, one must hun su he guang—blend with the crowd and conceal one’s light—so that others cannot recognize you, and only then can one cultivate in secret. Huineng once hid among hunters in Sihui; Daoguang returned to lay life to settle great affairs—both follow this meaning.

Patriarch Xue’s hiding in a metropolis and relying on the rich and powerful was what Patriarch Shi (Shi Tai) told him to do. It is also said that what is meant by “doing this for him” is like dwelling among hunters. Daoguang’s resuming ordinary life to finish his great work carries the same intent.

The Xue Patriarch (Xue Daoguang) lived in seclusion within a great city, attached to a household that was both wealthy and influential—arranged for him by the Shi Patriarch (Shi Tai). It is also said that he did so because the Taishang Heart Transmission had already been secretly passed to him. A great city is like the storehouse of the Great Elixir (the refined essence produced in neidan practice); what wealthy and powerful families hold is finer in quality and easier to obtain. The patriarch there opened up Ying’e (the foundational outline of the elixir body in the tradition) and unlocked the Mysterious Pass (the critical gate of cultivation), receiving it morning and evening. In this way not only did the Dharmakaya (the true body of attainment) day by day grow more solid, but the Heavenly Treasure would also come of its own accord. Using an assumed name and blending into ordinary society was only a temporary expedient. That he eventually changed his dress—was that because the age favored Daoism? Once the heart has turned to profound cultivation, one naturally ought to wear Daoist robes; as the saying goes, “Practice Yao’s way, wear Yao’s clothes.” If one says he was avoiding slander, that is still worldly feeling and hardly seems the patriarch’s intent. To say he followed the same path as the Sixth Patriarch of Chan (Huineng) is apt, yet their situations were not entirely the same. The Sixth Patriarch’s Chan had already reached the realm of no-abiding and no-fixed dwelling; he did not have to hide among the crowd. Moreover he faced jealousy from fellow disciples; lodging with a hunter was enough to protect the illusory body (the physical form treated as provisional). Transmission at the third watch of the night was without obstruction, and dwelling with the hunter sufficed to guard the Dharma. What was guarded was the Dharmakaya; what was guarded as illusion was the illusory body—using the illusory body to draw forth the profound is equally a great matter. With these two layers of meaning, he hid in that way. The Xue Patriarch’s hiding among people was only to welcome that one decisive occasion; beyond that, such concealment was unnecessary. My master, the Chicken-Foot True Immortal, once said this; I record it here as a supplement for joint study.

Someone asked: “Cultivating the Dao is plainly an upright path—so why does it so easily draw slander?” The answer was: “Because this Way differs from the ways of the world. The world prizes fame and profit, love and attachment; cultivation treats them lightly. The world takes cleverness and quick wit as real ability; cultivation sees them as hollow. Those who seek wealth are often not humane; those who practice humaneness are often not wealthy—the two pull in opposite directions. That is why most people are unwilling to walk the path to transcendence; if they do not dismiss cultivators as foolish, they label them as perverse. Great practitioners are round on the outside and square within—they mix with the world and conceal their light (hunsu heguang: living among ordinary people while softening their brilliance to blend in)—precisely for this reason.”

Someone asked again: “Cultivators originally mean to leave the world behind and let all ties fall still—so why speak of mixing with the world and concealing one’s light? Wouldn’t that mean being stained by dust and vulgarity?” The answer was: “Empty stillness and non-action (wuwei) come after one has attained the elixir (neidan practice in which essence, qi, and spirit condense and the work succeeds). If, before the elixir is attained, one insists on non-action alone, from where will one seize creation (duo zaohua: reversing the world’s processes of birth, decay, and aging), and how will birth and death be resolved? Mixing with the world and concealing one’s light is precisely for seizing creation and resolving birth and death. Though one still moves among the mundane, one has already stepped free of worldly fixations; though one still stands in the dust, one has already risen above its burdens. Once the great elixir has formed, one need not force empty stillness—it will come of itself. Only then can one leave the world behind, stop answering to affairs, and undertake the long retreat of facing the wall for years (jiu nian mianbi: extended closed-door quiet cultivation) in search of liberation.”

This commentary holds that from the closing line of the reply, one can see the master had not yet fully grasped the Supreme Heart School—the highest method with mind-nature as foundation. Otherwise he should have explained completely in his earlier answers why one must heguang (harmonize the light, restrain brilliance and not display oneself) and why one must hunsu (blend with the mundane, live among ordinary society). Only then does the subtlety of cultivation have a door to enter. Students under heaven would no longer cling to old methods or need the path of mianbi (wall-facing, long seclusion in silent practice)—would that not be a great Prajna boat, carrying wisdom and ferrying beings? Regrettably, the master did not explain thoroughly enough.

Though the ancients left the great method of deep plowing and planting the seed, force could not achieve it and circumstances did not allow. Like our lineage’s revered Patriarch Xue: when primordial qi was already broken and the true seed lost, he had no choice but to hide for a time in a great city, open wide the mysterious aperture (the key qiao in inner refinement), emit light, gather back the scattered Yuanyi (Primordial One) from the world, and receive it to repair Yin’e (the foundation that guards the elixir embryo). Relying further on a household of ample means, he cultivated with devotion, responded in communion, and obtained heaven’s Tianbao (the primordial treasure), forming his own Shengying (Sacred Infant, the holy fetus shown when the elixir completes)—thus settling the great matter. At that stage, the solitary is no longer merely solitary, and the paired is not merely paired; why worry over the later stages of warming, nursing, shedding, and fensui xukong (shattering empty void, the ultimate state in which even emptiness is dissolved)?

If this secret is not made clear, the Great Dao cannot be manifest. Even if someone forms an embryo and sheds it, without nine years of wall-facing it is extremely hard to shatter the void, because what they formed in the elixir is mixed with falsity. The root disease is craving quick results and not yet truly trusting that “wu wu” (utter non-being) Taiyi (Supreme One). The Chant of Dao True Words says this is leaving the bitter work to the infant: the broad highway is abandoned while one scrapes a living on goat-paths and bird-tracks. Even if one succeeds, one remains in ordinary human status; after nine more years of nurturing, one still falls short of the generation of Sacred Infants.

The Great Dao elixir method of the Supreme Heart School refines and purifies one step further at each step. So-called purification means advancing step by step according to mingxue (the work of nurturing life-qi), returning to nature. Its effect is to refine, amid a diffuse, full mysterious state, a shuzhu (millet-grain pearl)—a cinnabar bead that seems present yet absent. The ancients’ practice was originally thus. Like one mu of field: rice is barely a shi or so, while straw fills ten loads; remove husk and chaff and you must discard about another shi. Students should know that even the coarser must be sifted out—how can husked field rice serve as food? The situation is exactly this.

Therefore those who cultivate this gate in antiquity had to begin from refining the heart before they could step by step return to origin and cultivate until there was no void beyond void and no silence beyond silence—then xiantian (the original state before differentiation) appeared. Such emptiness and stillness, cultivated further to naturalness, is when the xuanguan (Mystery Pass, the qiao where pre-heaven qi stirs) opens. Once the pass opens, one meets resources everywhere; only then is Tianbao obtained. Formed thus in completion, gathering becomes form and dispersing becomes qi—there is no need to practice wall-facing separately.

Someone asked: “Does the practice of ‘nine years facing the wall’ really mean sitting in stillness for nine full years?”

The answer was: “No. ‘Nine years’ here means jiuhuan—in internal alchemy (neidan), the refined essence repeatedly returns and is worked until it forms the elixir. ‘Facing the wall’ is not rigid, motionless sitting either. It means the mind holds to one aim without scattering, and spirit is gathered and settled so that not the slightest impurity remains—as if a cliff ten thousand ren high stood directly before you, nothing visible beyond it, and every method and phenomenon resolves into emptiness. That is the decisive move for quietly nurturing the ‘infant’ (the newly formed elixir embryo) until the embryo matures and transforms. It is not the heterodox approach of still sitting to stop thoughts and ‘wall-gazing’ to fix the spirit, treating ‘nine years’ as ‘nine revolutions’ (jiuzhuan).”

The commentary means: having a cliff ten thousand ren high stand before you, seeing nothing else, and letting all methods return to emptiness—this is precisely the move of still nurturing the infant until the embryo matures. It is not the side path that takes still sitting and thought-stopping, or wall-gazing and spirit-fixing, and reads ‘nine years’ as ‘nine turns.’

The commentary holds that placing this stage of practice after “return, coalesce, complete, and nurture” (the phases in internal alchemy after the elixir ingredients are obtained—returning, forming the embryo, rounding completion, and warm nurturing) may look safe, yet it costs tremendous effort; how many since antiquity have not abandoned midway! The Tai Shang Heart School (emphasizing uniting nature and life through the heart-mind) is finer: when xing (nature) is thoroughly penetrated, ming (life) is penetrated through as well. The supreme knack is: each degree of thorough penetration brings one degree of concentration and fixation; little by little it accumulates—just as the alchemical texts say, “one grain after another grain.” The late master Taixu Weng said: “It is like deep plowing and sowing, through harvest and threshing, then exchanging grain for cash and silver—that is still not the subtle point. One must exchange silver for gold, gold for pearls, and store them secretly in the inner treasury. By such successive exchanges the outer treasury is emptied, and only then is there no disaster of thieves drawn by displayed wealth. This is the wondrous use of exchanging the coarse for the refined.” This is also the supreme knack of returning from the formed to the Wu (non-being), from the false to the true. Day after day, month after month, year after year—only then does it truly match the principle of accruing by day and by month. Alas, few know how to follow it; they only know accumulation and not transformation, so coarse and refined jing (essence) are stored together until there is no room left; outward they invite thieves, inward it is like old grain turning red and moldy; cash becomes qingfu (in legend, insects that scatter with money), silver becomes queha (the old saying that sparrows entering water turn into clams—meaning chaotic change and loss). All this comes from not understanding the subtle meaning of returning to the xiantian (prior heaven). Ancient perfected ones returned step by step to emptiness until it was utterly natural—like a skilled merchant who hides goods deep within; free in coming and going, like exchanging a fortune of a million into something so fine it cannot be grasped in one hand—hence they could “gird ten thousand strings of cash and ride a crane to Yangzhou” (carry great wealth yet travel freely); wanting to leave, they leave at once; wanting to transform, they transform at once. This is already the state where emptiness is shattered to pieces—why still face a wall for nine years?

Question: Is the ying’er (infant) spoken of here the same as the infant in the paired images “ying’er and chanü” (in Neidan, ying’er often stands for true yang, chanü for true yin)? Answer: They differ. The infant in ying’er and chanü is the single yang line hidden within two yin lines in the Kan trigram—the xiantian (prior heaven) qi (vital energy) concealed within the houtian (posterior heaven). The infant of the shengtai (sacred embryo) is xiantian qi coming from emptiness, pairing with true gong (in Neidan, a metaphor for yuanshen, original spirit, and true nature) to take form and manifest—this is what is called the yangshen (yang spirit).

Someone asked: “What is the difference in function between the yang shen and the yin shen—can you explain?”

The reply was: “The yin shen is the postnatal shishen (the ‘spirit’ formed after birth from mind, intent, and consciousness). What the Yinfu Jing (a Daoist classic) calls ‘spirit upon spirit’ (shen er shen) refers to this. The yang shen is the prenatal yuanshen (the spirit endowed from before birth, the root spirit). What the Yinfu Jing calls ‘not-spirit yet spirit’ (bu shen er shen) refers to this.

‘Spirit upon spirit’ follows the flow of birth and death: while you live it is present; when you die it departs—this is the karmic root of rebirth through countless kalpas. ‘Not-spirit yet spirit’ is cultivated by reversing creation: it condenses from emptiness; birth and death cannot obstruct it; it stands alone beyond them—this is the true seed of becoming an immortal or a buddha.

Great cultivators work on the prenatal and transform the postnatal, exhaust the karmic root of rebirth accumulated through kalpas, and reveal the prenatal diamond-indestructible spirit (Shen), lasting as heaven and earth, rivaling sun and moon. As for middling and lower paths, not knowing the prenatal, they only work on their own person, quietly guarding the shishen; when a little wild wisdom opens ( shallow cleverness without a foundation in real practice), they take themselves to have attained the Dao. How could they know that when the four great elements of the body (earth, water, fire, wind—the physical form) return to emptiness, this yin spirit has nothing to rely on and must seek another place to lodge? Hence it is said: ‘The root of birth and death through measureless kalpas—fools call it the original person.’”

I consider this carefully from the standpoint of Buddhist teaching: Buddhism never took the shi-shen—the post-heaven consciousness that discriminates and grasps at external conditions—as the true heart-mind (xin). Later Chan scholars missed the Buddha’s original intent and treated that bright, clear, alert knowing as the mind itself, taking consciousness (shi) as real. How could that be Bodhidharma’s “this very mind is Buddha” (ci xin ji fo)?

Chang Dao Zhen Yan (Song of the Dao’s True Words) takes refining the heart as its main theme because the heart is the Dao (the Way), and that heart has already been occupied by shi-shen—so one must work hard to “refine consciousness until it dies.” When shi dies, the Dao-heart appears. Shi-heart is the seed of samsara; the Dao-heart is spirit like the vajra—indestructible. Read Diamond Sutra, Complete Enlightenment Sutra, Avatamsaka Sutra, and Surangama Sutra with a quiet mind: which of them ever treats shi as real?

If refining the heart loses this aim, it is the deviation of later Buddhist learning. Know that these later approaches are not refining the heart at all—they follow shi and cling to shi, and so fall into emptiness and illusion, exactly the fault warned of in the Surangama Sutra: “pure emotion alone leads to fall” (chun qing ze duo)—one-sided clinging to feeling and attachment brings descent. Falling into following shi is never what Chang Dao Zhen Yan means by refining the heart. Refining the heart means letting shi die so the heart can live. If the heart were not occupied by shi, why wait until after refining to see it clearly? Students need sharp eyes when they read, so that every passage aligns with the true aim.

What Wuyuanzi (Qing-dynasty Daoist Liu Yiming) calls middle-vehicle and lower-vehicle learning is learning that follows and guards shi—not learning that extinguishes or kills shi. Read closely and his meaning is already plain. Readers who do not discriminate will surely think Chang Dao Zhen Yan is not worth following. I write these lines to give later students a stick-and-shout (dang tou jing xing)—a sharp wake-up in advance. Following and guarding shi is only the middle and lower vehicles; extinguishing and killing shi is the supreme, unsurpassed vehicle. The same study of nature and heart (xinxing zhi xue) can divide sage from demon—students should reflect on that.

Someone asked: Where do Yuanshen (Primordial Spirit) and Shishen (Conscious Spirit) come from?

The answer: Yuanshen is the refined essence of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases, arising in primordial chaos when heaven and earth had not yet taken distinct form. It is neither form nor emptiness, neither shape nor image; it is the condensation of the qi of heaven and earth’s yin and yang. At the beginning of human life, when the parents’ essence and blood unite in deep obscurity, a trace of the creative, misty qi of transformation enters the womb. Then from the formless comes form, from the imageless comes image; the five senses, joints, limbs, and five viscera grow naturally, while the parents themselves do not know how it happens. Within the womb there is already innate spiritual qi, and Yuanshen is hidden within it—that is the origin of Yuanshen. Shishen is the acquired yin spirit. It does not perish even after countless kalpas and never ceases in the cycle of rebirth. Only when the infant leaves the womb does it enter the orifices and merge with Yuanshen, becoming one mixed whole—that is the origin of Shishen.

Someone asked: If Shishen has already merged with Yuanshen, is cultivating Shishen the same as cultivating Yuanshen? Why is it also said that cultivating Shishen is only cultivating one’s own yin?

The answer: There is a further principle here. When a person is first born, Shishen is originally united with Yuanshen. By the age of sixteen, once the pure yang body (the child’s body before innate essence is lost) is broken, the two separate. Prenatal qi disperses and postnatal qi rises; Shishen takes charge and Yuanshen withdraws and hides. In time, Shishen alone holds power and Yuanshen leaves no trace. What is it, then, that truly does not die yet can still generate and transform? If one clings only to the self in practice, one is merely cultivating this Shishen. Even if one can infer the past and foreknow the future, it is like a ruined house where one can only move elsewhere—and in the end one still falls into empty annihilation.

Someone asked: Once the prenatal is scattered, the postnatal governs. Must one know where the prenatal resides in order to restore it?

The answer: Though the prenatal has already become the postnatal, what can be done? When the house is ruined one must move—yet in the end one still lands in empty annihilation.

Someone asked: “Once pre-heaven (xiantian)—the original primordial Qi (qi) before birth—has scattered, post-heaven (houtian) life, with its forms and images, takes over. Must we know where pre-heaven still is before we can restore it?”

The reply: “Pre-heaven is covered by post-heaven, but it is not gone. The ancient immortals said, ‘As long as a thread of yang Qi is not exhausted, the person is not truly dead.’ Start from that not-yet-extinguished thread; in what seems empty, hold to what is genuinely real. To return to the root and restore the origin (fanben huanyuan)—what is hard about that?”

Someone asked again: “Post-heaven has form and image—why call it ‘nothing’? Pre-heaven has no form or image—why call it ‘something’?”

The reply: “Post-heaven has shape, but it is yin and turbid: only a false appearance, no true substance—so it is called ‘nothing.’ Pre-heaven has no shape, but it is pure essence: only the real, no falsity—so it is called ‘something.’ In Neidan (internal alchemy), ‘extracting from Kan to fill Li’ (qu kan tian li)—taking true yang from Kan and filling the yin gap in Li so water and fire meet—means using this real ‘something’ to fill that ‘nothing’ that has a name but no reality.”

Someone asked further: “Pre-heaven has no form or image—how can one extract from Kan and fill Li?”

The reply: “Qi has no shape, yet its principle is fully and truly present; the trouble is only that people do not know it. Once you truly understand, you can use the solid to reveal the empty and use ‘having’ to complete ‘not-having.’ Between heaven and earth, the Yellow Sprout (huangya)—the first point of true yang and true essence in the elixir—grows and fills the cosmos; the Golden Flower (jinhua), the further unfolding of that true essence, blooms. Then, following the method, one gathers and refines it step by step. When the water is clear and the gold appears (shui jing jin sheng)—when the water nature is pure and the golden pre-heaven essence is born—seize that moment to restore it. What difficulty is there?”

Those who study the Way do not inquire from the angle of true versus false; they press further on the meaning of the word “take” (qu), so the principle of true and false is still not fully explained. In fact, filling Li from Kan—drawing the yang line from the Kan trigram to fill the yin line in the Li trigram—is precisely the true meaning of returning to the root and restoring the original (fanben huanyuan). Students do not know to investigate from here; they plant their feet only on the character “take,” and then go searching for signs in function and application.

If one knows to trace being and non-being on Kan and Li, using them to verify true and false, there is a great gate to enter and a broad path to walk. Not investigating the root body but only investigating use—after that, everything is pursued in function and application, and the original countenance of the pre-heaven state (the Dao-body as it was before birth) remains unclear. When the pre-heaven countenance is unclear, from where can the one aperture of the mysterious pass (xuan guan yi qiao—the key opening in internal alchemy that reaches the pre-heaven) be tested and entered? If the mysterious pass does not open, the great union of Qian and Kou (the pre-heaven pairing of yin and yang) inside can hardly be borne. From where does the original return? From where does the true return? That “when water is clear, gold is born” (shui jing jin sheng) certainly has its season, yet the root of true and false is still not understood. The pre-heaven countenance unclear—the mysterious pass entered from where? The pass unopened—the great union inside hard to sustain. Original from where returned? True from where restored? Water clear, gold born, though timed—the root of true and false still in confusion; the face of true and false—from where recognized?

Through the ages, Neidan (internal alchemy) methods have been hard to clarify; the illness lies in abandoning the root and investigating only the branches. Our Daoist Daozang (Daoist Canon) contains the Xiantian Daode Jing (Pre-heaven Classic of Dao and De); the whole work expounds the Dao-body, yet no one knows to take it up for inquiry. The scripture’s meaning is profound; fortunately Master Xizhai Li wrote a commentary. I originally intended to follow his commentary with an interpretive, experiential annotation—how many could understand such tasting! Obtaining this book and pondering it deeply, before and after become clear at once, and true and false can be distinguished. I meant to use it as a furnace for distinguishing true gold (fenjin lu—a standard for telling authenticity). Alas, my learning is shallow and my talent limited, and I am already old; I have no chance to meet an immortal still dwelling in the world. When the true master Shen Taixu was alive, this book had not yet come to me. Doubts I could not ask; difficulties I could not debate. I was eager to annotate at once so I could taste and inquire, yet some words I dared not speak openly.

Someone asked: The Way of the inner elixir has both huohou—the right timing and measure in the firing process—and the work of circulating and refining; why then is it said not to be difficult? The reply was: What is not difficult is obtaining the medicine within that one time-period; what is hard is that huohou is extremely subtle. Hence the Realizing Truth (Wuzhen pian, a classic of inner alchemy) says: Even if you recognize cinnabar and black lead—the inner metaphors for spirit and essence, or “Li fire” and “Kan water”—without knowing huohou, it is empty effort. Forming the elixir depends above all on the power of cultivation; miss by a hair’s breadth and the elixir cannot form. If huohou is not off and the work is carried to the finest degree, then it is not hard after all.

Huohou is subtle because when the moment arrives there are arcane signs. Whoever understands the principle of zhonghe—neither excess nor lack, exactly right—will not err by a hair. Without the key to taking one’s stand in the pre-heaven (xiantian) source, one often misses it face to face. When the root of the great Dao is unclear, the medicine has already arisen and one does not know it; even if one understands huohou, it is still empty work in circulation. At this point one cannot help but sigh in private.

Another asked: If medicine can be obtained in one time-period, are huohou and effort useless? Why also say the work must be fine? The reply was: “One time-period” means the verification of obtaining the medicine; “huohou” means the effort of cultivation. Returning the elixir (huandan) is the easiest part; refining the self (lianji) is the hardest. The sages fold years into months, months into days, days into hours; in that one hour they raise the divine work, gather the medicine and return it to the vessel (the dantian), and in an instant form an embryo that would otherwise need three hundred days— that is the easiest thing. Yet if refining the self is not diligent and huohou is not careful, lead arrives and mercury is not there to meet it, Kan comes and Li does not receive, the other party arrives and one does not wait— one must miss it face to face, gain it and lose it again.

One must understand that refining oneself (lianyi) in internal alchemy (Neidan) is refining the heart-mind. Among all methods, none surpasses the Chant of the True Word of the Dao (Changdao Zhenyan). That book can serve as a compass for elixir scriptures (danjing) precisely because it contains the essential meaning of self-refinement. Read it closely and reflect on it, then combine it with your own insight, and the path to celestial immortality (the Way of the celestial immortal) will be complete. This was the instruction left by our late master, the Elder of Great Emptiness (Taixu Weng).

Someone asked: “How do you know the other has arrived while you are waiting?” The answer: “If you cannot recognize it at all, how can you speak of waiting? The Supreme One (Laozi) said: In what is dim and indistinct there is something; in what is dark and obscure there is essence (jing). That essence is most real; within it is trust (xin). This ‘something’ is not an ordinary thing—it is the medicine (yao)—the material for forming the elixir within Neidan. This essence is not impure essence—it is true essence (zhenjing). This truth is not ordinary truth—it is celestial truth (tianzhen). This trust is not casual news—it is solid, verifiable assurance. When that assurance arrives, the tiger roars and the wind rises, the dragon sings and clouds gather. At this moment the great practitioner drives the dragon away to meet the tiger, and uses the tiger to meet the dragon (dragon and tiger stand for yin and yang qi), gathers them into the yellow court earthen cauldron (huangting tu fu—the central place of refinement in the body), and condenses them into the elixir (dan). This secret turning-point: for one who grasps it, it is as close as arm’s length; for one who is confused, it is a thousand li away.”

What is meant by hazy obscurity and wind rising with clouds gathering are all subtle inner visions in cultivation. Yet if the Mysterious Pass (xuanguan)—where pre-heaven qi first stirs—does not open, these scenes will not appear; if the work of refining the self (lianji), gathering the mind and shedding acquired habits, is insufficient, even when the aperture opens you will not perceive it. If you cannot settle body and mind in the moment before pre-heaven has yet to stir, you will not know what you are refining. To reach this, begin with the six abstinences (zhai): fasting eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and intent; when the six are complete, then purify the mind (zhaixin). In purifying the mind, the work completes itself naturally: neither divided into stillness and movement nor bound to direction—you then enter the spontaneously appearing mysterious true realm. Once the pass opens, it is like a bright gauze curtain facing empty space: every opening stays open, stillness remains as before, and the gauze at once dissolves. The present moment is right in this realm—no coming in or going out, and no inside or outside. When the work reaches here, layer upon layer of subtle states appear, nothing hidden. Treat it only by “not taking being for being, not taking non-being for non-being,” turning inward in self-examination until inner is like outer. Only by concentrating in emptiness and in silence is this what is called the deployment of mysterious efficacy—and in it one will not go wrong. My late master Taixu Weng’s discourse on the mysterious is enough to complete this answer, so it is recorded here.

Question: Is the Yellow Court earthen crucible (huangting tu fu) the Huangting point in the central palace?

Answer: No. This is the formless, imageless true earth after gathering the Five Phases and harmonizing the Four Symbols—it cannot be compared with the visible, tangible Huangting point in the body. The Huang Court spoken of in elixir practice neither rests in being or non-being nor is fixed in any one place. In terms of gathering the medicine it is called the Yellow Dame (Huangpo), who harmonizes Yin-Yang; in terms of refining the medicine, the earthen crucible (tu fu), which cooks lead and mercury (lead stands for yuan jing, mercury for yuan shen); in terms of forming the embryo, the Yellow Court (Huangting), where the valley spirit (gu shen)—the ever-clear, undimmed yuan shen—is quietly nourished. If you take the acquired Huangting point as the real thing, how could you harmonize Yin-Yang, refine lead and mercury, or nourish the valley spirit? Lu Ziye said: “True earth has no position; true intent has no form.” That is precisely what Huangting and the earthen crucible refer to.

Someone asked: "Since soil has no fixed position, and true intent (the genuine thought in cultivation) has no form, when the holy fetus (the embryonic origin formed by internal alchemy) is condensed, does it also have no position?" The reply was: "To say it has no position refers to the time of gathering the medicine (absorbing pre-heaven qi). Is this not the vessel (the cauldron used in alchemy)?"

The same question was asked again. The reply was: "No position applies to the time of gathering the medicine. When the fetus is formed, yin and yang unite, and soil is within them. As the saying goes, 'Yellow passes through the center and connects with principle; the correct position occupies the body'—they become one qi in perfect unity. The elixir origin (the fundamental essence of the elixir) already has form; it seems to have no position, yet in fact it has one. Only this position is not the kind that clings to emptiness or to form and appearance; it remains formless, yet has the distinction of movement and stillness."

Someone asked: "Soil is originally associated with stillness; now you say it moves—is this not falling into falsity?" The reply was: "This is not the movement and stillness of ordinary soil, but the movement and stillness of pre-heaven true soil. The moving aspect belongs to yang and is called the outer Yellow Commissary (the medium that connects yin and yang from without); the still aspect belongs to yin and is called the inner Yellow Commissary (the medium that transmits union within). The outer Yellow Commissary is used to harmonize the two houses, hence no position and movement; the inner Yellow Commissary is used to convey the momentary exchange and transfer, hence having position and stillness. Movement is for gathering the medicine; stillness is for refining the medicine. Without movement, how could pre-heaven qi be gathered? Without stillness, how could pre-heaven qi be condensed into a fetus? This is the distinction between inner and outer, movement and stillness."

Someone asked: "Soil has inner and outer functions—do the Four Symbols (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire) also have inner and outer aspects?" The reply was: "The Four Symbols plus soil make the Five Phases. The outer Five Phases are used to gather the pre-heaven for completing life (the physical, embodied aspect); the inner Five Phases are used to complete the post-heaven for completing nature (the spiritual, mind aspect). When both inner and outer are fulfilled, that is the way of dual cultivation of nature and life (Xingming shuangxiu)."

Someone asked: “If xing (nature) is inner and ming (life/destiny) is outer, does that mean a person has no ming in their own body?” The reply was: “Heaven uses yin-yang and the Five Phases to give rise to the ten thousand things. When qi condenses into form, principle (li) is also present within it. Qi is ming; principle is xing. Qi does not leave principle, and principle does not leave qi—so xing does not leave ming and ming does not leave xing. How could there be only xing and no ming?”

They asked again: “If a person already has ming in the body, can cultivating this single body preserve that ming—why must one still seek ‘another house’ (the counterpart beyond oneself)?” The answer: “Ming belongs to the pre-heaven (yuanqi received at birth); xing belongs to the post-heaven (mind-nature formed after birth). Once one loses pre-heaven qi, ming is already depleted. Cultivating only one’s own self yields empty xing; cultivating only this body yields turbid substance. Even if one keeps the qi still present from being lost, how can one recall qi already lost? Therefore one must use the ‘other house’s’ method of not dying to gather back the qi that has scattered.”

They asked again: “Pre-heaven qi is formless and imageless—once lost it is gone; how can it be gathered back?” The answer: “The secret the patriarchs transmit heart-to-heart lies precisely here; the Way passed down once in ten thousand kalpas is here too. Where something was lost from, from there it returns. Pre-heaven qi disperses at the moment of ‘one yin arrives in Gou’ (when yin first arises and meets yang); one must still gather it at that same moment. So this substance is present right now—there is no need to seek elsewhere; it is at hand. The Yijing says ‘return is not far—use it to cultivate the body’; that is what is meant. Yet in gathering pre-heaven, what matters most is obtaining ‘that person’; without the person, pre-heaven cannot be restored. Ziye said: ‘The medicine comes from the southwest—that is the Kun position; to seek the Kun position, how can one leave the person? It has been explained clearly—remember it, lest when you meet you fail to recognize what is true.’ Without a clear master’s oral instruction, this medicine and this person are not easy to identify.”

Pre-Heaven Qi is the qi produced when true yin and true yang interpenetrated within the pre-heaven Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). In Heaven it is called Qian Yuan; on Earth, Kun Yuan; in the human being, Zhen Yuan—also called Human Yuan (Ren Yuan). Though the ancients explained this clearly, they still feared that when people met it they would not recognize it truly. Without a clear master’s oral transmission, how could one easily identify this “medicine,” this Human Yuan?

The qi of the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and Human—is all called “Yuan”; the principle each receives is called “One.” Yuan is life (ming); One is nature (xing). Life is called “self”; nature is called “other.” Originally they are one substance, one kind, one family; only because the bodily forms in which they lodge differ do we awkwardly split them into names such as Yuan and One, principle and qi, xing and ming, other and self, yin and yang, dragon and tiger—when in fact there is only one Dao.

Later students clung to names and forms, disputing traces, each holding to a partial view until mind and eye grew dim and heterodox teachings spread—even the worthy were hard put to avoid confusion. The root cause lies in the clause in the Celestial Statutes (Tianlü) on “reckless transmission bringing calamity.” From antiquity, perfected ones honored these ancient injunctions and wrote books mostly in hidden language—which heterodox schools then seized as proof.

My late master Master Taixu lamented this and recorded what the Lü lineage (Daoist precept discipline) transmitted orally: Precept Master Xujing attended Changchun Patriarch Qiu one night in the Yanbo Hall. The patriarch explained “Loss comes through human affairs; restoration must be sought through the human being,” saying this was the golden mouth transmission of Patriarch Zhenyang. The two characters “human” (ren) must not be confused: the first refers to human affairs (renshi); the second to Human Yuan (ren yuan). When Pre-Heaven Qi disperses into human affairs, it cannot be recovered from human affairs again; only by seeking Yuan in the Taiji can Yuan be restored. In the world, the three Yuans all root in the Taiji: in Heaven as Heaven Yuan, on Earth as Earth Yuan, in the human being as Human Yuan. Once Human Yuan is lost, if one does not seek it within oneself, how can Yuan be restored? Hence the saying: loss is through human affairs; restoration must be sought through Human Yuan.

There is also a swift method that uses illusory appearances to hook and retrieve the hidden mechanism; the ancients called it “planting the seed”—establishing the seed of one’s primordial origin. One need only settle body and mind before the Xiantian (the primordial state prior to the arising of all things). Then not only does the primordial Yuan recover, but the “One” follows as well. One has only to receive it with emptiness and fix it in stillness. That is the subtle application of those two lines.

A master of discipline (a senior in the Daoist lineage who upholds precepts) asked: “If that is so, why is there also the saying ‘the undying person in the Kun direction’?”

The patriarch said: “The Yuan rests in Kun (the trigram of earth, southwest on the compass, symbolizing the receptive earth). Through it the myriad things are nourished; heaven, earth, and humanity—the three powers—all depend on it, so it is called the gate of generation (shengmen). To say the Yuan dwells in Kun is because Kun’s position is southwest and it carries the virtue of assisting all things to completion. Kun is also called the human gate, because the human is chief among the myriad things. This direction is called ‘undying’ because the myriad things have birth and death, while the Yuan has neither birth nor death; Kun too is stabilized only through it. The ancients saw that it harbors the Yuan that can generate life and named it the undying direction. Since the myriad things are born from the Yuan lodged within Kun, and the human is also a thing among things, one speaks of the undying person in the Kun direction. This ‘person’ is neither an immortal nor a buddha, but the human Yuan (the body’s primordial origin)—do not mistake it for an ordinary person. When one can recognize it in this way and welcome it with emptiness and stillness, the Xiantian Yuan is restored at once without exception. Once the Yuan is restored, it naturally congeals and settles—why must one rely on a furnace or a cauldron? Furnace and cauldron were allegories of the ancients; people who do not awaken to this give rise to all sorts of crooked interpretations.”

Such is the account in the Pillow Secret of the Disciplinary School (Lüzong Zhenmi). In my view, the point of the master’s reply is that nothing is more precious than obtaining the human (as the locus of cultivation). He also said that Qi is lost when the one yin arrives at Gou (the moment when the first yin rises and meets yang—the critical juncture when primordial Qi begins to slip away), and must still be gathered back and held precisely at that Gou of one yin’s arrival. That line is all too easily seized by heterodox schools as proof for their views, so I relay what the lineage teaches to fill in what this answer did not fully spell out. Besides, the loss of the human Yuan—how could it consist only in losing it at the moment yin is encountered?

The text continues with further exposition on Kun, the undying direction, and the distinction between metaphorical furnace and cauldron versus direct restoration of Yuan through emptiness and stillness—preserving the same academic yet accessible tone and glossary usage throughout.

Buddhist scriptures record the depletion that comes from “manually discharging semen”; the Compilation on Abstaining from Lust records the depletion that comes from “outward fondness for longyang” (the ancient term for male–male desire); medical books record the depletion that comes from “nocturnal emission in dreams.” The former masters’ discussions were meant to fill in what this reply had left unsaid.

As for the loss of human primordial essence (renyuan, the body’s fundamental vitality)—must it happen only through union with yin and heterosexual intercourse? The three kinds of depletion above are all included. Yet some say that “one must seek recovery exactly where the loss occurred,” and also that “what was lost is still there and easy to recover.” On my reading, the original place and the original substance cannot be sought and recovered again.

Only what my former master said is right: it comes from the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) and returns to the Taiji; if I wish to recover it, I must receive it back from the Taiji. That principle is the most upright and the most true.

Yet in the master’s answer it says, “from wherever it was lost, seek from there.” Presumably, in oral transmission among later students of the Vinaya tradition, the character for “human” (ren) was mistaken for “where” (he). That one character matters greatly; readers should weigh it carefully. Since the master took Disputation as the book’s title, these two characters cannot be left unexamined—I ask the reader to judge.

In the autumn of the Renzi year of the Qianlong reign, I sought the highest Dao from the immortal Huang Shouzhong, who still dwelt in the world. He was then more than five hundred years old, born in the Song, entered China in the early Yuan, and was originally of Yuezhi (a people of the ancient Western Regions). In the twelfth year of Shunzhi he received the Three Major Precepts (the three platform precepts of the Quanzhen Longmen lineage) from the lofty gentleman Kunyang Wang (Wang Changyue). His point was this: from where do human life and nature come, and when they are lost, toward where should one seek them? Without heart-to-heart transmission (xinchuan, the secret teaching passed directly from master to disciple), how can one return to the original source?

Yet human life and nature divide into pre-heaven and post-heaven. When pre-heaven life and nature dissipate, they return to Wuji (the formless, boundless origin); when post-heaven life and nature dissipate, they return to Heaven and Earth. Heaven and Earth, vast as they are, are still the post-heaven that follows Wuji. The formless life and nature of the human body are received from Wuji; the post-heaven life and nature of the body are produced by one’s parents—this is the tangible Three Treasures (the bodily foundations that Neidan identifies as Jing, Qi, and Shen).

When a person fails to guard and preserve them, spirit and qi disperse and return to Heaven and Earth—this is what is meant by “the hun (yang spirit, governing awareness and perception) ascends to Heaven, while the po (yin spirit, governing the body’s instinctive functions) sinks into Earth.” The sages of old, once pre-heaven and post-heaven vitality was lost, all turned from within emptiness and stillness toward Wuji (the boundless origin), because the qi of Wuji embraces both pre-heaven and post-heaven. The method called “seeking in stillness” is to make the physical body empty and silent, and the body of true nature clear and still; then one does not summon yet it comes of itself, does not gather yet it gathers of itself, does not condense yet it condenses of itself—one simply follows nature. Natural qi can merge the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity); the Three Powers are originally one qi, with no coming or going, no being or non-being, movement or stillness, birth or extinction— it cannot be named, and is reluctantly called Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). People say Wuji gives birth to Taiji; in fact, within Taiji “youji” (the limited) and Wuji first appear together, and hence it is called Taiji. Thus Wuji and Taiji stand in a relationship like ancestor and descendant, concealing the subtle art of “using restraint to promote transformation and generation”—the work of the Golden Elixir’s return. What I heard from the Lu masters (teachers who transmit precepts in the Daoist lineage) of former generations was the same. There are also methods of “deep plowing and sowing seeds,” using the illusory to hook the profound, with even greater efficacy—but unless one has sworn the most solemn vows, one dare not transmit them orally; yet in the end, none of it goes beyond accomplishing everything through this single method of “seeking in stillness.” Immortals who remain in the world and founding patriarchs of the precept line all speak in these terms in their subtle discourse. This supreme Way of the Golden Elixir is preserved and practiced only in our Lu lineage (the Daoist tradition centered on precept transmission). Outside the Lu lineage, though books may fill the house, heart-to-heart transmission like that of Masters Shen and Huang is at best a likeness; it is not that they never heard, but that they dare not disclose.

Question: Life and nature are my own life and nature; cultivation depends entirely on oneself—others cannot exert effort in one’s place. Now you say “not apart from the person”—does that mean one must seek from someone else?

Answer: The “person” spoken of here is not an outer person.

Someone asked: “Nature and life are my own nature and life—cultivation depends entirely on oneself; no one else can take my place. So why does the teaching say ‘never apart from a person’? Does that not mean we must rely on someone else?”

The answer: “That person is not an outsider. He is the undying one—the original true person (zhenren). The ancient immortals said: ‘If you wish not to die, you must seek the undying person.’ That person is called the Golden Duke (Jin Gong)—in internal alchemy, the pre-heaven true yang. The Golden Duke was originally of our house, yet strayed into another’s home and, lost, does not return. ‘Our house’ here is a metaphor in cultivation: our house has only a single yin self left; if we guard it alone and cultivate in isolation, we cannot succeed. We must call the Golden Duke back and pair him with our Wood Mother (Mu Mu—in internal alchemy, true mercury) before inner medicine can arise and condense into the elixir (dan).”

From the answers given, Master Wuyuan (Liu Yiming, the Qing-dynasty Neidan master) has already made the point very plain. Unless one turns over what I wrote at length earlier, this layer of meaning remains hard to hold. He speaks both of “not the person who never dies” and of “the original True Person,” and he also says: “Jin Gong (Metal Lord—in Neidan jargon, often the innate true lead) was originally something our own house already had; it went off to another house, and Jin Gong must be called back before the work can succeed.” How explicit that is! It means innate Qi has already gone back to Wuji (the origin before all things were divided), so it must be recalled. If one clings to “other” and “self” and takes them for visible, tangible flesh, doubts will spring up on every side.

When I weigh again the master’s reply—“to pair with my Mu Mu (Wood Mother)”—I still find it not quite fine enough. According to Master Huang Zhen’s oral teaching: once a person’s innate [endowment] is lost, not only does Jin Gong leave in a yang departure; Mu Mu must also “fully return” in the great sense. What then stays in the body as heart-and-spirit is no more than Jin Gong’s serving maid. The proper way is to call Jin Gong back and welcome Mu Mu home, and set the household in order again—only then does it match the deep meaning. For when deluded thought stirs, Shen flies and Qi scatters, and Jing must leak as well; there is never Qi already scattered while Shen does not fly and Jing does not leak. In that situation neither innate nature nor innate life remain at home; what is left in the house is entirely acquired nature and acquired life, hence the name “pure yin.” One must therefore call Jin Gong back and bring Mu Mu home; when Metal and Wood join, the path of birth and rebirth is complete. If Mu Mu does not return, the harm of fanning the fire—burning hotter the more one fans—will not stop, and Jin Gong cannot settle either. The master left out this crucial point, as if a classic were missing a passage; I add it here for that reason.

Someone asked: “In inner alchemy, Jin Gong (the dispersed true Yang within the body) — how can it be called back?”

The answer: “Calling it back is easy; the hard part is recognizing it. Once you truly recognize it, a single call and it comes — like an echo in an empty valley, nothing fails to respond. Jin Gong left because you yourself grew distant from it. Now that you know it is what saves your life, if you draw near and cherish it, it returns home at once, without the least strain.”

[You should understand: Jin Gong departed because corrupt ministers (a metaphor for wandering thoughts and the discriminating spirit) held power, and the seductive wife (a metaphor for lust and desire) fanned them at their height; Mu Mu (true Yin within) also withdrew and ‘returned to the great home,’ and Jin Gong thus suffered the disgrace of being defiled. The secret lies solely in casting out the usurpers, welcoming Mu Mu back, purifying the inner court, and letting all affairs resume their proper places — then Jin Gong naturally comes in grace. What is meant by ‘without the least strain’ is the path of dual cultivation of nature and life (xing and ming cultivated together). The method is nothing beyond quieting the breath and stilling the mind until emptiness and stillness are reached; sincerity carried to the utmost returns to the natural. When body and mind, court and government, are all upright and orderly, Jin Gong arrives of itself and Mu Mu returns of itself. If you retain even a hair’s breadth of deliberate intent to ‘recognize’ it, you will surely leave trouble behind. The master’s reply did not reach this level; it omitted the step of welcoming Mu Mu first and fell on the side of recognition alone — not yet fully aligned with the great way of the Golden Elixir — hence this supplement, submitted for correction by those more advanced.]

Someone asked: “When Jin Gong is called back, can one then ‘catch’ and hold life (ming)?”

The answer: “Not yet. When Jin Gong arrives, you have only obtained the true seed (the genuine seed of forming the elixir). From that point you must tread the path in earnest and sow in good time; after the yellow sprout (the first stir of life when the elixir begins to form) appears, you warm and nourish it until it ripens; then swallow and take it inward — only then can you catch and hold life.”

I once heard these words from Zhang Pengtou, an immortal still dwelling in the world among human beings. “Zhang” was the surname he took for himself; he was in fact a son of Qu Shisi, the loyal minister of the Ming dynasty. In the Jiaqing era he came to Jingu Mountain, looking like a man in his thirties. I had long heard of his name and asked which school among the yin–yang lineages—the various cultivation methods that take yin and yang as their path—was truly correct. The immortal said, “Your master, Master Taixu, should already have given you instruction; why ask me?” I knelt and said, “Yes. My master said there is what is obtained through the Great Emptiness, what is obtained in great cities and thoroughfares, what is obtained in the elixir chamber, what is obtained in the altar and quiet chamber, and what is obtained on the meditation seat—and that none of these is a heterodox side path.” The immortal said, “What is obtained through the Great Emptiness takes the Great Emptiness as the dharma-body and the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—as the medicinals; this is the supreme of the supreme vehicle. What is obtained in great cities and thoroughfares takes the six directions as the dharmic body and living tiger, generating dragon, and materials formed by the transformation of Qi as the medicinals. What is obtained in the elixir chamber takes the dharmic body as the protective enclosure and likewise uses the tiger and dragon as seed and medium, drawing in what is produced when Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) yin and yang unite, gathering it by intent into the Huangting (central inner court), as the root of forming the elixir. What is obtained in the altar and quiet chamber takes the elixir chamber as the protective enclosure and the dharmic body as the mysterious aperture; one applies the ritual tiger and ritual dragon so that Shen (spirit) concentrates in the elixir chamber, then gathers it back into the mysterious aperture and gives rise to the true One. Some keep this One and pair it with the primordial Yuan as seed; others use tiger and dragon as medium so that Taiji yin and yang unite, Shen concentrates in the elixir chamber, and the tiger and dragon also give birth to something. Keep for oneself what is produced by the union of Taiji, and return the primordial One produced by tiger and dragon: return the One to the dragon and the Yuan to the tiger, and in stillness each returns to its place and stops. All of these belong to the superior vehicle. Besides these there are also middle and lower vehicles, which your master did not mention. If you follow my instruction—being able to empty the heart, still Shen, and forget Qi—with ample worldly resources, what you gain will be abundant. If you wish to pursue this Way, first cultivate De (Virtue/Power); the greater the De, the greater the blessing. When Heaven discloses this subtle Way, it is to save one person and thereby deliver ten thousand. If your aim is only long life, Heaven may not regard and protect you. Weigh your own capacity and then practice.” I then received this with a bow. That day five-colored clouds and light arranged themselves in ranks; only after a while did they disperse. The immortal master instructed me: “Young man, be reverent. Today’s affair has already moved Heaven’s spirits to witness and inspect. Why not write it down and, when the time is right, transmit it to the world?” I now record it after the questions and answers, out of gratitude for my teacher’s grace and because I dare not hoard it privately. I only hope that those with aspiration will quiet the mind and verify it in their own practice—this is my earnest wish.

Someone asked: “In the methods of ‘receiving life’ (extending life and cultivating the work on ming), is there also a doctrine of xing (nature)?” The answer: “If you do not cultivate xing, how can you establish ming? Xing is where ming is anchored; ming is what xing rests upon. Xing and ming have always been one household—how could you not cultivate xing?”

Someone asked: “If xing and ming are one household, isn’t settling ming enough to settle xing? Why is it said that after cultivating ming one must still cultivate xing?” The answer: “The xing cultivated while working on ming is innate nature (the nature received at birth). The xing cultivated after ming is empty-and-still nature (nature that returns to the silent source). Innate nature comes from Yin-Yang; empty-and-still nature comes from the Taiji (the undivided source before Yin-Yang). They cannot be treated as the same thing.”

Someone asked: “In cultivating empty-and-still xing, is there huohou (the measure of when to advance, retreat, or hold steady in practice)?” The answer: “The principle of cultivating xing is to complete oneself through the Dao, to embrace the One and practice Wuwei (non-action). Though it is called Wuwei, within it there is still the work of guarding against danger and foreseeing peril—it is not dead emptiness with nothing at all. Only thus can one return to the realm of true suchness and subtle awakening (real, unfabricated, finely discerning enlightenment).”

[Cultivating xing depends only on whether insight is sharp or dull; originally there is no huohou to speak of. Where others use one part of effort, you use a hundred; where they use ten, you use a thousand. If clarity is not thorough, one certainly cannot speak of reaching the end; once one is greatly clear and greatly penetrated, how could one allow the slightest negligence? Because ming has a stopping point, but xing has none. When there is not even a stopping point, where would huohou be? Take the Buddhist scripture as confirmation: Guanyin Bodhisattva’s illumination fills the great thousand worlds like lines on the palm; Shakyamuni Buddha’s illumination fills the three thousand great thousand worlds, likewise like lines on the palm. The light of xing may be said to reach an extreme—yet compared with Vairocana Tathāgata (the Dharma-body Buddha), it is only one petal on the thousand-petaled lotus seat of the Tathāgata; Shakyamuni’s light of xing still lacks nine hundred ninety-nine petals. From this one knows xing has no stopping point—so how could there be huohou to discuss?]

Someone asked: “If one returns to True Suchness and wondrous enlightenment (the real substance and complete awakening), has one reached the end of the Dao?” The answer was: “Not yet. Only when even the realm of empty space is broken through is the matter truly settled. If one still holds to empty space as something to grasp, empty space remains, and that cannot be called the end.”

The commentary means: This “end,” if spoken only from the side of ming (cultivating essence, qi, and bodily life), comes close enough; but as for the Dao, neither ming nor xing (seeing one’s true nature) has any limit. Buddhist scriptures can confirm it: the four great continents can be held in a single grain of millet, and a mote of dust can contain a vast world. Spread out, worlds are as numerous as the sands of countless Ganges Rivers (sands in the Ganges, a metaphor for the immeasurably many)—and in each grain of sand there are again countless motes numbering like the sands of innumerable Ganges. The number of worlds and the Dao alike have no end. Therefore those who aspire should refine diligently without cease. Whoever says cultivation has a stopping point—whatever merit they accumulate is not worth mentioning.

Another asked: “We have heard that one must first cultivate ming and then xing; why is there also talk of first cultivating xing and then ming?” The answer was: “This refers to gradual practice after sudden awakening. The qi one receives at birth may be clear or turbid; the root of xing may be sharp or dull. Those with clear qi and a sharp root of xing, once they receive the master’s oral secret, can suddenly awaken and penetrate, recognizing the original face before birth (one’s inherent true nature). After that they guard it steadily without abandoning gradual refinement; preserving this face is cultivating ming from xing. Those with turbid qi and a dull root of xing, even with the master’s secret, cannot see through at once; they must go from gradual practice to sudden awakening, from strenuous effort to natural stability—that is cultivating xing from ming.”

Those with a dull root of xing, though they receive the master’s secret, cannot see through immediately; they must move from gradual practice to sudden awakening, from forced effort to natural stability—that is cultivating xing through ming.

Someone asked: “Is the path of cultivating life (refining and nurturing the vital Qi of life) a matter of gradual cultivation?” The answer was: “Innate Qi (the primordial Qi one receives at birth) dissipates little by little; to restore it now, one can only restore it gradually. The Awakening to Reality says: ‘For the most part it all depends on the power of sustained practice—fall short by a hair’s breadth and the elixir will not form.’ Ancient immortals also said: ‘If words do not communicate, you are not of the same kind; if effort has not arrived, fulfillment cannot be complete.’ All of this refers to gradual cultivation.”

Someone asked again: “True fire (the fire of inner refinement) originally has no fixed ‘firing times’; the great medicine is not measured in pounds. If one has already obtained the true secret, and keeps cultivating without break, how could there still be error?” The answer was: “That true fire has no fixed schedule means one need not rigidly divide zi and wu (the two pivot points of yang’s rise and yin’s decline) by the clock; that the great medicine is not counted in pounds means that until effort has fully arrived, fulfillment cannot be complete. Not fixing zi and wu to dead hours means advancing when one should advance and retreating when one should retreat, adapting as conditions change—there is no season that can be decided in advance. That effort not yet arrived means fulfillment not yet complete refers to gathering the medicine, refining the medicine, nourishing Qi, and concentrating Shen (spirit)—none of these can be limited to a fixed weight or measure. Only the way of the Golden Elixir is exquisitely fine to the utmost.”