《古书隐楼藏书》Vol. 5

Among these distinctions there is an extremely fine gradation: layers of difference between auspicious and inauspicious, stopping and sufficiency, tender and mature, urgent and slow—so one cannot but be cautious.

Someone asked: “Can you explain what auspicious and inauspicious, stopping and sufficiency, tender and mature, urgent and slow mean?” The reply was: “Returning to Xiantian (the original, undispersed state) is auspicious; following Houtian (the state after birth, when vitality is gradually depleted day by day) is inauspicious. When the medicine (a neidan term for the refined Qi condensed within the body—not a drug taken from outside) has fully ripened, that is called sufficiency; when the fire work (the art of mastering timing and using spirit to refine Qi) has reached the point it should reach, one should stop. When the medicine’s Qi has just arisen, that is called tender; when the medicine’s Qi has already passed, that is called mature. Before the medicine is obtained one should be urgent; after the medicine is obtained one should be slow. Understand this, and the elixir can be restored and the embryo (the sacred fetus formed when the elixir is complete) can be formed. When inverse and forward are applied together, nothing fails to go as one wishes.”

They asked again: “The way of Xiantian is the way of reversal—why is forward movement also mentioned?” The reply was: “Reversal is to steal (to take while heaven and earth are unaware) the Qi of Xiantian and make Yang Qi return; forward movement is to complete the work of Houtian and expel Yin. When Yang returns and Yin is fully expelled, one can act before heaven’s timing without heaven opposing it, and act after heaven’s timing while conforming to heaven’s timing.”

They asked again: “The Qi of Xiantian is also produced by heaven and earth—why would heaven not oppose me?” The reply was: “Though this Qi is produced by heaven and earth, the perfected person (one of the highest attainment) can place himself before heaven and earth’s generation of things; as soon as it is newly born he immediately takes it, so heaven and earth do not perceive him. Hence the top line of the Bo hexagram (a hexagram name; its image is Yin gradually swelling while Yang is nearly exhausted) in the Book of Changes says: ‘The large fruit is not eaten.’ The meaning is to leave that one remaining Yang, halt and go no further, as the root of return. This is what is called the learning of Xiantian.”

Someone asked: “Bo is yin qi stripping away yang qi—how can one then return from Bo back toward yang?”

The reply: “Bo is the creative transformation by which heaven and earth follow their constant course: yang is stripped away until only one yang line remains, and it advances no further. The sage reverses this trend and works the creative transformation: turning from the Bo hexagram (five yin lines below, one yang above—yin in ascendancy stripping yang) toward the Fu hexagram (one yang line below, yang reborn), returning from the post-heaven realm to the pre-heaven. He takes ‘six’ (yin as the operative line in Kun) yet is not ruled by that yin; his intent is to borrow yin to rescue yang. This is seizing the pivot of creative transformation—called stealing the mechanism (dao ji). Under heaven, people can neither know it nor see it.”

They asked again: “The Dao in heaven and earth is open and upright—why speak of ‘stealing’?”

The reply: “The allotment of qi that heaven gives a person is only a temporary loan; borrow long enough and it must be reclaimed. Heaven and earth, while one is unaware, secretly steal away one’s qi; when the theft is complete, the person dies. The perfected person is one who sees clearly into creative transformation: before qi is exhausted, while heaven and earth are still unaware, he in turn steals the qi of heaven and earth, thereby extending life and postponing death. If one does not take in secret but demands openly, heaven and earth are already alert; even if one reverses the flow and restrains it, gaining something by luck, one has lost the real and kept only the false. Hence it is said: what can be seen is not to be relied on; what can be wielded is not visible. Only by acting before heaven does heaven and earth fall within my art—nothing is not used for my sake.”

The master’s reply here is not made up out of nothing, yet it still falls short of a proper doctrine: it remains stuck in the everyday sense of the word for “theft.” If we follow the Sanhuang Xizi Xuanjie (a work that unpacks characters to reveal hidden meaning), the reasoning becomes much sharper. “Dao” (the character for theft) means a wu (thing) placed inside a min (vessel); ci means to store, like the state treasury or a household chest. In Heaven, that place is Wuji (the boundless root); in the body, it is the xuanqiao (the inner-alchemy aperture where nature and life meet). The perfected person (zhiren) hides his name, so he is called a “thief.” Read this way, the character seems far more solid.

As for the Qi Heaven and Earth give to people: Qi has no sound and no color and arises from the natural. When a person dies, Qi returns; Qi turns back to its origin, and Heaven and Earth receive it—again from the natural. Between giving and taking there was never intent, yet to say “Heaven takes it away while the person does not notice” is faulty wording and still smells of the phrasing habits of the various masters’ books. Moreover, from the standpoint of the Dao, the three powers (Heaven, Earth, and humanity) are not merely one family—they are one and the same Qi, with no going out and no coming in; how could there be giving and taking? Whether the saying hits or misses is only human guesswork. To the perfected person, the three powers are one self, the six directions (above, below, and the four quarters) are one mind, and each thing in the ten thousand beings is stored within Wuji; originally there is no gain, loss, giving, or taking. To gather the refined and leave the coarse is not a split between an inner storehouse and an outer one. It is only that what is stored has its place, and the one in charge of each store has his office. Giving and taking work the same way: as when one goes to the vault for gold, the hall for paintings, the stable for horses, the chest for clothes, the room for utensils, the granary for grain, the kitchen for food, or the yard for firewood—each has its steward; to take or to give follows the heart, without need to command by gesture or tone. To return in this way to the prenatal (one’s condition before birth) is hardly difficult. Here one may grasp the point of “when you desire benevolence, benevolence is at hand.” The pity is that students do not know how to exhaust their own heart—that is all.

What is there to be stingy or greedy about, and what is there to fight over or seize? Saying that “earth and heaven are unaware” (that heaven and earth do not notice) is somewhat acceptable; but saying that it lies “within its technique” is a serious flaw in wording. This is fundamentally the great Dao of returning creation to its source (huanyuan zaohua)—yet to sum it up with the word “technique” still cannot escape the tone of the masters’ books (zishu). Moreover, the word “awakening” (jue) is the heart of every method of self-cultivation; when practice reaches its fullness, it is nothing but perfect, complete awakening (yuanjue).

The practitioner stands before xiantian (before Yin-Yang had divided and before the ten thousand things had arisen), quietly watching for the first stir of life and gathering it in. It is precisely because this stirring qi has just taken shape that it becomes the useful yellow sprout (huangya—the first sprout of the inner elixir); it is not a matter of stealing and grabbing while heaven and earth are unaware. Once a person is stained by desire, primordial qi scatters, and creation takes it back into Wuji (the boundless origin). That is creation’s care for this Way, and also the meaning of leaves returning to the root. If one understands return and seeks restoration for oneself, what is needed is already complete—as when one is hungry one eats and when one is thirsty one drinks in the presence of one’s parents, without scheming to obtain. That is the point. Once the manner of the masters’ books is mixed in, the dignity of scriptural meaning turns into stratagem and deceit. “A miss as fine as a hair’s breadth leads to an error of a thousand miles”—how can one not be careful with words?

Someone asked: “Human beings are born from receiving the qi of heaven and earth, Yin-Yang, and the Five Phases—they are only one thing among the things of heaven and earth. How can they surpass heaven, and how can heaven be ‘within my technique’?” The answer: “The sage can surpass heaven because there is a Dao that embraces heaven and earth. Embracing heaven and earth, and operating in reverse (ni yun) outside heaven and earth, one can make fate one’s own and not heaven’s.”

That saying has its pedigree, but the meaning of “therefore able to surpass heaven” is not yet fully unfolded—it is only a provisional way of putting it. Students of the Dao should know: to embrace heaven and earth and to operate in reverse outside them is how one makes fate one’s own and not heaven’s.

Although this view has its sources, the principle of why “humans can prevail” has not been fully explained—it is only a provisional way of speaking. Those who study the Dao should know that the three powers—Heaven, Earth, and Humanity—all emerge from Taiji (the source before things are divided). Heaven, Earth, and human beings share one Dao. Heaven and Earth take wuwei (non-action, no fixed intent) as their substance; humans take youxin (having intent, deliberate mind) as their function. Creation entrusts wuwei to Heaven and Earth and youxin to humans because humans stand between Heaven and Earth. Thus the turning of creation and the rise and fall of the age’s fortune—Heaven and Earth only summarize the outcome. That rise and fall follows the movement of qi (vital energy); prosperity and decline in the world occur when the way of fortune strays from the right path. The authority to steer fortune lies with people, not with Heaven and Earth. Humans should model themselves on the Dao; the Dao models itself on ziran (spontaneous nature): one should quietly observe when qi arrives—where it is insufficient, supplement; where it is excessive, reduce. Whether qi is rigid or soft, strong or weak, warm or cool, dry or moist, blocked or dispersed, each arrival should be adjusted toward zhonghe (central harmony) so that no side dominates; then sheng (generating) and sha (restraining) are appropriate, advance and retreat fitting. Apply this to governing the age’s fortune and fortune prospers; apply it to neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation and the elixir can form. Only then does one not fail the trust that the Dao places in human stewardship. Heaven and Earth can then keep their places; the myriad things can be transformed and nurtured. Because of this principle, humans deserve to be called one “power” (cai), ranked with Heaven and Earth as three.

The student who grasps this should in every thought embody the Dao, without private intent mixed in—like the sages of old, neither slighting oneself nor betraying this heart. This heart of intent is what creation assigns to govern the world; it is not for private possession. It belongs to Taiji and is merely manifest and hidden within me—hence “human beings are the heart of Heaven and Earth.” The prosperity or decline of the age’s fortune is truly made by humans; Heaven and Earth do not take part. Because humans hold this charge, even if one person is not in their proper place, it is as unsettling as seeing punishment in the marketplace—Confucianism puts it this way; delivering all beings is what Buddhism and Daoism undertake. That is because the responsibility is real.

The master’s reply belongs to posterior, expedient discourse—not the orthodox doctrine of the classics—and must be distinguished. Humans stand within the liuhe (six directions: above, below, and the four quarters—the space between Heaven and Earth), as tiny as one grain in the ocean, yet because they receive this heart and this charge, sages through the ages have shouldered it without shirking, because they truly see that this heart is the one primordial element within the yuanqi (original qi) of Heaven and Earth. It is so large it has no outer limit, so small it has no inner bound: in Daoism it is called the heart of the Dao; in Buddhism the Buddha-heart; in Confucianism the heart of Heaven—not the lump of flesh-heart that merely generates blood. As for the “Heaven” in “human resolve can overcome Heaven,” that is posterior Heaven, not prior Heaven. The nì (return, reversal) spoken of in the Dao’s path is not opposing the Dao but turning back to the root origin. This “nì” is like the “nì” in “nì nǚ” (to receive the bride) in the Zuozhuan—the word’s sense is applied in alignment with the Dao. Lest later readers misunderstand, this clarification is offered expressly.

Someone asked: "Can human strength prevail over Heaven's mandate? Can you explain this principle to me?"

The answer was: "What is called the Dao is that single breath (qi) within primordial emptiness and non-being—it is the root from which Heaven, Earth, and the ten thousand things arise. The sage's merit and practice are grounded in emptiness and non-being, so Heaven's mandate does not turn against them. Look at people in the world: some are fated to be alone, to die young, or to live in poverty—yet once they perform a great act of virtue or establish a great achievement, those destined for loneliness may instead have many descendants, those fated for short life may live long, and the poor may become rich. If virtue can already prevail over Heaven's mandate in this way, then how could the Dao prevailing over Heaven's mandate be anything surprising?"

The earlier answer was good, but the layer that people can prevail over Heaven was not fully spelled out; one should state plainly the sage accomplishment of taking one’s stand on emptiness. That one qi is born from Taiji (the root of the ten thousand things); originally there is neither going out nor coming in, neither arriving nor departing—only because people sense, does qi respond. Qi itself holds no intent; the rise and fall of the age’s fortune is merely a bias in sensing and response—the fault is not in qi. The perfected person (one who has cultivated to the utmost) knows this, so they set the body on “nothing” and place the mind in emptiness to examine. The human heart’s sensing is hard to foretell, yet Heaven’s answering always shows at the border of emptiness. The perfected person, when the omen has barely appeared, quietly watches: whether the tendency is toward life or toward killing, there will surely be a trace; then at the first sign they turn it back—what should be welcomed they welcome, what should be stopped they stop, without strain. Ordinary people do not know this; our Way can yet be preserved in the hidden. It is like a person in stillness inspecting the heart: as soon as a thought arises, they notice at once; at the budding stage, to follow or not to follow is entirely up to themselves—why wait until the thought has already moved to block it? Because the body is qi: thought moves, qi responds immediately, swift as an echo. Extend this to Heaven and human: sensing and response is equally swift. Turning the momentum back along sensing and response—that is called “prevailing”; what need is there for grand operations? The master had not explained this before, so it is added here.

Someone asked: Must one also accumulate virtue (De) in cultivating the Way? Answer: How could one not? The Way cannot be without De, just as Yang cannot be without Yin. De is what one owes to others; the Way is what one does for oneself. One who learns the Way without first accumulating De touches upon spirits and ghosts (the numinous realm in Daoism that responds to human good and evil).

Someone asked: “Must one also accumulate merit when cultivating the Dao?” The answer: “How could one not? The Dao cannot exist without De, just as Yang cannot exist without Yin. De is doing good for others; the Dao is self-cultivation for oneself. If those who study the Dao do not first accumulate merit, ghosts and spirits will be displeased, inner demons (obstacles in the mind) will often block the spiritual aperture, and one cannot go deep. If those who refine the Dao do not first plant virtue, Heaven and Earth will not rejoice, and outer demons (obstacles from outside) will at every turn block the path and prevent advance. Whether studying or refining the Dao, one must put establishing virtue first—only then can misfortune turn auspicious and danger bring safety, until one finally attains the Dao. For the Dao has a limit, but De has none. Since ancient times, when immortal adepts (realized immortals and perfected ones) have attained the Dao, they still accumulate merit and perform good deeds in the world; they must wait until three thousand meritorious acts are complete and eight hundred practices fulfilled before they receive the celestial decree (Heaven’s summons to ascend as an immortal). Awakening to Reality says: Unless one both cultivates and accumulates hidden merit (yin de—good done without seeking recognition), at every turn hosts of demons come to create obstacles. Can De be left uncultivated?”

The reply is correct. If one can practice Patriarch Lü’s Account of the Three Ni Healing the World, following its secret methods of the Three Ni for healing the world, one can heal the world (settle and harmonize the realm) through oneself alone—without spending a single coin or expending the slightest effort—and this has already been verified by others: Heaven and Earth can be set in their proper places and the myriad things nurtured. This method was originally a treasured secret of the ritual discipline school (the Longmen lineage of precepts in Daoism); it has now been printed and published to benefit the world. Those who aspire to the Great Dao need not worry about the kind of demonic obstruction spoken of in Awakening to Reality; both self and world can gain. That the master did not mention this point is probably because he had not yet heard of it.

Someone asked: “Those who truly cultivate the Way often have nothing at all—they rely on shifang (patrons from all quarters) for food and clothing. How can they have silver to accumulate merit?”

The answer: “Accumulating merit does not have to mean spending silver. Merit built without silver is greater than merit built with silver. For those who have left home to devote themselves to the Way, nothing matters more than fangbian—being helpful everywhere. That means bearing hardship yourself so others gain, speaking honestly and not deceiving the shifang who support you, giving medicine and tea freely, repairing bridges and roads, and guiding people toward good deeds. Do whatever slightly benefits others; avoid whatever slightly harms them. Practiced this way, merit grows larger still—you are accumulating De and establishing virtuous conduct. Keep at it, and bonds with people are formed; hope for a bond with Heaven opens too. That helps others and helps yourself.”

(This reply is largely sound. Whether one’s De is lofty or modest, one must first hold fast to conduct. Persist for three years, and suye (karmic residue from past lives) can be cleared; then one may take up the method of “healing the world”—using one’s cultivation to benefit society—and great achievement becomes possible.)

Another asked: “If one only accumulates merit, will that obstruct progress in cultivating the Way?”

The answer: “How could it? Outwardly accumulate merit; inwardly cultivate the Way. Use De to support Dao, and Dao to complete De; practice Dao and De together, and inner and outer mutually fulfill each other. That is the grounded work of sages and worthies—not the hollow, inactive approach of middling or lower vehicles of cultivation, clinging to an empty mind and calling it the Way, which is merely superficial learning.”

(In my view, the great path of healing the world—using body and mind to remedy the world—is the sage’s most grounded and highest learning, the supreme Dao; it is not the empty wuwei of middling and lower vehicles that treat guarding the mind as the Way.)

In my view, the Great Way of healing the world consists in regulating the world through oneself. This is the grounded, practical learning of the sage—the supreme Dao—not sorcery or divine power. Its effects are real: when the self is at peace, the world is well governed. But one must first open the mystical pass (xuanguan, the key aperture in internal alchemy) before one can begin. What is practiced is nothing beyond nature and life (xing and ming)—essence-nature and embodied life—yet it can unite De (virtue/power) and merit in one achievement; it is the highest tier of Neidan (internal alchemy). Those who aspire to the Great Way may follow this path.

In practice: treat the head as Heaven, the Crimson Palace (jiangque, the heart region) as the capital, and the Kun abdomen (the yin lower belly) as the lanes and alleys of the common folk. The essential formula is: with intention, welcome the Qi of Wuji (the limitless source of all things), let it descend to fill heart and belly, pass through the spine to the back, and take clarity of heart, settled Qi, and harmony throughout the body as your aim. Do not count months or years; practice three times daily, and do not chase after results. This lineage is fundamentally the supreme Mahayana-style teaching of mind-nature—it is also the great Dao of the Mean (zhongyong). When affairs call for stillness, welcome Qian (Heaven) yang Qi; when they call for harmony, welcome Kun (Earth) yin Qi—use these two kinds of Qi to reach the central harmony of Yin-Yang. This is the practical learning that lodges De within the Dao.

Someone asked: "Confucianism teaches preserving the heart and nurturing nature, Daoism teaches cultivating the heart and refining nature, and Buddhism teaches illuminating the mind and seeing one's nature—all three traditions establish their teachings on heart and nature. Yet now you say 'the heart is not the Dao'—I truly cannot make sense of this."

The reply was: "The Dao is the Dao, and heart-nature is heart-nature; this does not mean that heart-nature is the Dao. What is called preserving the heart and nurturing nature means putting this Dao into practice; cultivating the heart and refining nature means guarding against heart-nature obstructing the Dao; illuminating the mind and seeing one's nature means completing and fulfilling this Dao. These are ways of using the regulation of heart-nature to cultivate the Dao—not of treating the cultivation of heart-nature itself as the Dao. Moreover, once one speaks of preserving, nurturing, cultivating, refining, hearing, and seeing, one is already no longer in wuwei (non-action). If one truly took emptying the heart as the Dao, then the heart would be the Dao; cultivating the heart would bring long life, nurturing the heart would bring immortality—why then seek teachers, visit companions, or ask for true secrets?"

They asked again: "If the heart is not the Dao, should one simply let it come and go without restraint?"

The reply was: "The heart is the root of birth and death; it is what obstructs the Dao. When a practitioner begins, this thing must first be cut off at the root—only then can one go straight ahead without it blocking the way. The sage said: 'The human heart is perilous; the heart of the Dao is subtle.' (The human heart is dangerously unstable; the heart aligned with the Dao is subtle and hard to discern.) The harm the heart does to people is truly severe."

Editor's note: The saying "when the heart dies, the spirit truly lives" refers to the discriminating, attached false heart (shixin); what follows below all concerns the heart of the Dao.

Someone asked: “Is the heart of the Dao not also a kind of heart?” The reply was: “The heart of the Dao is the heart of heaven and earth. It may be called a heart, yet it is not the ordinary heart: empty and open, every principle is present in it, yet nothing can stick to it. It is the spirit in which the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are purely fused into one. It has many other names—true yang, true lead, true seed, black tiger, golden lord, true essence, spirit-light, gold within water, yang within the Kan trigram, the other’s deathless formula, Lord of the Nine and Three, the spirit-bright child, and so on. These are all alternate names in Neidan (internal alchemy); they point to one thing, collectively called the heart of the Dao. This heart has no form and no image, no sound and no smell; few people in the world ever meet it. Even when they do, they cannot truly recognize it and often let it slip by while it is right in front of them. The sage uses method to pursue and gather it, refining it in empty space through nine returns and seven reversions (repeatedly refining and returning essence, qi, and spirit to the pre-heaven state), and thereby transcends the ordinary and enters sagehood. This same principle is the way of the Mean in Confucianism, the One Vehicle (Yicheng—the direct, non-dual path to the ultimate) in Buddhism, and the way of the Golden Elixir in Daoism. Later monks and priests did not understand this great way of the sages and wrongly claimed that Buddhist and Daoist teaching differ from Confucian teaching—how foolish!”

Someone asked again: “If the One Vehicle of the Golden Elixir is the same as the way of the Mean, why did Confucius rarely speak of fate?” The reply was: “Rarely spoken does not mean never spoken; he simply did not speak of it lightly. The patterns of fate are deep and subtle; within them are the mechanisms by which one may seize creation and transform life and death. To speak of them easily would startle and confuse people. Yet The Great Learning and The Doctrine of the Mean are both learning of body, heart, nature, and fate; in them much of heaven’s secret is openly shown—it is only that people fail to see through it themselves. Confucius’s praise of the Ten Wings (the ten commentaries on the Book of Changes) is likewise nothing but the study of probing principle, fully realizing nature, and reaching fate. Later ages did not grasp this great principle; each side fought for its own school and slandered the others. How could they know that the gate of the Dao and its meaning is the gate of all wonder, and also the gate of non-duality?”

Someone asked: “Confucius already taught ming (the life aspect in the study of nature and life), so why did he not also transmit huohou (the timing and intensity of ‘firing’ in internal alchemy)?” The reply was: “To understand the hexagrams and lines is to know the gate of the Way and meaning—which is also the gateway of all wonders (the entry to every subtlety in Laozi)—is that not the gate of nonduality (the path that does not fall into either extreme)?”

They asked again: “Since Confucius had already taught ming, why did he not transmit huohou as well?” The answer was: “Explaining the hexagrams and lines is transmitting huohou. The principles of fortune and misfortune, regret and remorse within them are the practical work of choutian and jintui (adding and subtracting, advancing and retreating in regulating the fire). The secret mechanism is already laid bare here; it is only a matter of each person grasping it for themselves.”

They asked again: “Yan Hui (Yanzi) ranked first in virtue among Confucius’s disciples: from one thing he could infer ten, never swerved from the Master’s Way, seemed foolish yet could unfold the Way—Confucius praised him highly. By rights he should have been able to complete ming (the life work), so why did he die young?” The reply was: “Whether ming is complete must be judged in terms of the Way, not by fixating on illusory bodily form. Without clarifying the Way, though alive one is as if dead; with the Way clarified, though dead one is as if alive. What dies is the phantom body; what does not die is the Way. Yan Hui received Confucius’s Way: amid hardship others could not bear, he found joy; once he grasped a good point he held it fast in mind and dared not lose it. That is already having obtained the pre-heaven true unity qi (the undivided vital breath of the prenatal state), returning to the root and restoring life, no longer bound by yin and yang, reaching the level of a sage. Naturally he no longer cherished this phantom body, so he could die. Consider also when they were in danger at Kuang: he said to Confucius, ‘While the Master lives, how dare I, Yan Hui, die?’ That too shows life and death are in one’s own hands, not heaven’s decree. As for Confucius saying he ‘unfortunately died young,’ that was using Yan Hui to exhort the other disciples. If he had truly died from a short lifespan, how could one who had already clarified the Way still die young? And how would he have those not fated to die young learn from someone who died young? The meaning is already plain—how could it be misunderstood?”

Someone asked: “After the Dao is fully realized, one’s lifespan equals that of Heaven. If someone still dies young, could there be anyone who has truly understood the Great Dao yet dies prematurely? Would someone who was not destined to die young deliberately cultivate until they die young? The point has already been made clearly—how could it still be misunderstood?”

Someone asked again: “After the Dao is achieved, lifespan aligns with Heaven—so why did Yanzi (Yan Hui, disciple of Confucius) die at thirty-two?” The reply: “After achieving the Dao, there is another body outside this one—called the true body, also named the Yang Shen (the spirit body cultivated to completion, which can leave the flesh and endure independently). The Yang Shen is the indestructible true body, firm as vajra. When cultivation reaches the appearance of the Yang Shen, looking back at this illusory physical shell, it is no more than a heap of dirt—what is there to cling to? Sages and worthies keep the illusory body for a time only in order to complete the true body. Once the true body is finished, the illusive body has no use—why not discard it?”

Someone asked again: “Confucius did not die until his seventies—was his attainment of the Dao slower than Yanzi’s?” The answer: “Confucius devoted himself to saving the world. He wished to spread the Great Dao throughout the land and use it to awaken people. At the capture of the qilin on the western hunt (when Confucius took a qilin in the west and understood that his teaching could not prevail), he knew the Dao could not be implemented in his time; yet he could not bear to let the Great Dao perish in the world. So he edited the Odes and Documents, established Rites and Music, explained the Book of Changes, and compiled the Spring and Autumn Annals, to open the eyes of later generations lost in confusion—fulfilling, for the moment, his wish to save the world. When that wish was complete, he departed from life. Yanzi had already completed the Dao; with Confucius ahead of him saving the world, he had no place to apply his effort, so he might as well shed the illusory body and leave early.”

Can one truly be master of one's own life and death? The classics make it clear that Confucius and Yan Hui could have done so yet chose not to—how could the master have missed that? When he speaks as he does, he must have another purpose in mind. By right principle, when Confucius was besieged at Kuang, he trusted Heaven's mandate, and Yan Hui trusted it too; hence they could be unafraid and did not die. The passage on Yan Hui's early death shows precisely that both Confucius and Yan Hui submitted to Heaven's mandate and dared not defy Heaven to dispose of life and death at will—so when Yan Hui died, Confucius grieved as he did. If the idea were that a disciple must not die while his teacher still lives, then could one die while one's father still lives? That only proves Yan Hui did not go against his allotted span—and has nothing essential to do with illusion or occult arts. The aims of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism differ in learning, yet all attach weight to "establishing fate" (liming)—taking charge of one's moral direction; their proper meaning is "resting in fate" (anming)—accepting what Heaven allots. Thus all teach that whether life is long or short, one should not waver, cultivate oneself, and quietly await what Heaven sends. The master must have seen this; to answer as he does now, he surely has another reason. Moreover, in an earlier reply he already stated: "The illusory body has birth and death, but the Dao has none." Later students can infer from that. Alas, those in the world who cultivate and study the Way each do so with private motives—what more can I say? What people admire and what they press for in what follows are almost entirely the twin faults of craving long life and chasing the strange. When they hear the master's later answers, I fear those who rise and leave will number far more than five thousand—how lamentable!

Someone asked: If the illusory body cannot attain the Way, why is it said in the world that the Yellow Emperor, after successfully casting the cauldron at Dinghu, mounted a dragon and ascended to Heaven?

Someone asked: “If the illusory body cannot attain the Dao, why do people say the Yellow Emperor rode a dragon to heaven at Dinghu, and why is it said that Immortal Master Xu ascended together with his whole household?”

The reply was: “Such things did happen, but not in the way people imagine. The great path of the Golden Elixir is ‘drawing from Kan to fill Li’ and ‘returning to Qian according to Kun’: in internal alchemy (Neidan), Kan is water and Li is fire; cultivation means drawing the true Yang within Kan to replenish the true Yin within Li, so that yin essence returns to the pure Yang body of Qian. When the Dao is complete, all yin is stripped away, one becomes the Qian body, breaks through emptiness, and becomes a heavenly immortal of Daluo Heaven—the highest heaven in Daoist cosmology. What people call ‘riding a dragon to heaven’ refers to this; it is not the physical body literally riding a dragon away.

As for ‘ascending with the whole household,’ it means that when one person completes the Dao, nine generations of ancestors may ascend with them. There are also those whose merit and practice are so great that, by decree of the Jade Emperor, their whole family is moved to the blissful realm of celestial people to enjoy heavenly blessings, or settled in grotto-heavens and blessed lands—the pure abodes of immortals—to escape worldly troubles. People who do not understand take this to mean they flew away as immortals.

Yet immortals are all made through cultivation. How could those who never practiced and have no verification become immortals? From this you can see what ‘ascending with the household’ really means. Some foolish people even think the house and buildings were lifted up together. But immortals dwell in the realm of emptiness—how could heavy, turbid wood and earth be borne in emptiness? Moreover, immortals embrace heaven and earth; what could they not obtain—why would they cling to worldly wood and brick? If even the illusory body is cast off, why cherish a house? Think it through carefully.”

I once took this matter to Elder Taixu, a senior of the Daoist tradition. He said: This path is utterly real, not illusory. To reach daylight ascension—raising the physical body in the full light of day—one begins from the false and the illusory and refines what is true. First turn the red into white, then the white into breath (qi), then refine that breath into Qi (primordial yuan qi, not the qi of ordinary breathing), then refine further until one returns to emptiness, merges with the Dao, and arrives at spontaneity—nothing other than reverting to the pre-heaven state. This is not “practice one thing today and another tomorrow,” but a method whose cycles fit within a single two-hour watch (shichen), accumulated day by day, month by month, year by year. When the Dao is complete and the moment of ascension comes, the body is entirely condensed from pre-heaven qi; clothes and shoes likewise become qi, so at noon one can walk or stand and cast no shadow.

I met Mud-pill Elder (the inner alchemist Chen Nan, styled Mud-pill) three times and asked his instruction. He replied: You still do not understand—returning to the pre-heaven is not empty talk. As I was gathering my thoughts, he took my headcloth in one hand and lifted a hat in the other, and told me to look down at the shadow: only the shadow of the headcloth appeared; outside the cloth there was nothing. Just as I was startled, he put the hat on my head and wore my headcloth himself; looking again, still only the headcloth’s shadow showed—though I had a hat on my head, there was no shadow of the hat. He smiled: You can grasp it now! But the work must start from what is solid and real before it can return to the void. If even one fine grain of sand is not transformed, the shadow of that one grain remains.

I then asked what “ascending with the dwelling” (ba zhai—lifting body and house together) means. He answered: Here are two gates—method (fa) and the Dao; method is illusory, the Dao alone is real. I looked up ancient and modern cases of ascending with the dwelling—more than seventy—and of those who truly rose by the Dao, only the Yellow Emperor, Huan Xuan, and Zhenbai (Tao Hongjing). As for Boyang (Wei Boyang), Huainan (Liu An), and Jingyang (Xu Xun), they used techniques to manifest the Dao; in fact they withdrew to island retreats and continued cultivation toward returning to emptiness—whether their Dao was fully achieved is unknown. “Ascending with the dwelling” means the physical body departs together with the dwelling.

Three figures—Huangdi, Huan Xuan, and Zhenbai (Tao Hongjing)—achieved what is called fleshly ascension (chongju): the physical body rose with them. The rest underwent shedding the shell (tuoke), leaving the bodily form while the spirit departed; more than eight hundred such cases are on record. Without endorsement from the Three Officials (Heaven, Earth, and Water) and without a jade decree—the celestial court’s summons to rise—no one could hope to ascend by chance alone. Can all ascension be dismissed as empty illusion? It shows plainly that becoming an immortal is not something ordinary people can attain.

The above is what my teacher taught. I add it here to show that nothing in the registers is false.

My teacher also said that the sacred feat of uprooting the household (buzhai)—rising with one’s dwelling and dependents—must begin with egg guarding (shoushou). Egg guarding is a practice of guarding body and mind within a sphere of qi. The method is to take heaven and earth as your own dharmakaya, let the great qi circulate—below enveloping the earth, above covering the clouds—and gradually draw it inward from far to near, never slackening. When your qi merges with gang qi (celestial pole qi) and gang qi shields the body so wind and clouds cannot enter, signs appear. Step by step, when doors open and serpents and beasts cannot enter, the work advances. Sustained practice makes the season for moving dwelling and ascending no longer difficult. Yet in three thousand years only two immortals are said to have done this: Patriarch Wei of Boyang (Wei Boyang) and Patriarch Xu of Yuanyou (Xu Mai). My Niwàn Teacher Li held that this path was not an essential task for oneself, so I did not dare to practice it.

He also said that uprooting the household and ascending was something ancient sages undertook only when they had no choice—Huainan (King Liu An of Huainan) and Jingyang (Xu Xun) are examples. The three clans of Huainan were lifted far through the Eight Lords’ power. Jingyang built merit through huangbai (arts of transmuting gold and silver), and disciples of his gate went with him. Because this provoked heavenly reprisal, he meant to test them by the dharma and turned charcoal into singing girls as a trial. Among more than eight hundred, only ten—including Yuzhen and Yinzhen—kept the three precepts. Those ten were promoted at Changyu; the other seven hundred ninety-one were not delivered, and the world was left the Longsha Prophetic Text. Precepts must be kept strictly; earlier warnings are warning enough. My teacher did not speak of these things without reason, so I record them here as well.

Someone asked: If the illusory body—the physical form that cultivation treats as unreal and insubstantial—is of no use, why do some practitioners, when they die and are about to be buried, leave no corpse in the coffin, only a bamboo staff, or only clothes and shoes? Have they taken even the illusory body with them? These are things my teacher recounted; they are not empty talk, and so they are noted here.

The reply was: Cases differ and cannot be reduced to one explanation. Some have completed the Dao and shed the illusory body, while their Dharma body—the true body of practice—appears in a fixed place, accumulating merit and conduct until, over decades, their work is complete; they then go to pay homage to the Jade Emperor, supreme lord of heaven, without revealing celestial secrets, showing others only the appearance of death before departing. Those who do not grasp this subtle purpose see an empty coffin and take it for fleshly ascension to immortality. Others have not yet finished the Dao and, to escape calamity, use illusory arts, leaving a staff, garments, or shoes in place of themselves while they flee far off, leaving no trace—that too is not the physical body becoming immortal. The Supreme Venerable (Laozi) said: “The great trouble I have is that I have this body; if I no longer had this body, what trouble would remain?” To leave the illusory body behind is thus to cast off that trouble.

Another asked: Some also remain in the world without leaving the illusory body—why?

The reply was: Again, one cannot generalize. Some have achieved the Dao but their merit and conduct are still incomplete, so they keep the physical form to continue establishing merit. Some have completed the life side of cultivation but not yet the nature side, and cannot leave the illusory body, so they stay in the world in visible form. When both nature and life are fully resolved and merit and conduct are complete, yet one still clings to the illusory body and will not release it, that is called a “home-clinging ghost”—a state immortals refuse.

This commentary says that the so-called "home-loving ghost"—one who clings to the physical form and cannot transcend—is invariably a stubborn immortal who does not understand the study of nature (the learning of illuminating the mind and seeing one's true nature). They not only fail to complete their nature; what they call "life" is not the true life bestowed by Heaven and Earth, but merely the sort who rely on the discriminating spirit (post-heaven consciousness) to hold onto the illusory body. To call this "completing nature and life" is nothing but worldly talk. Those who aspire to the supreme vehicle (the highest fruition) do not cling to form but refine form—refining until not even a speck of illusory form remains—only then are they persons who fully receive and fully return (returning the body received in its entirety to the original source). There have been such sages throughout history; they cannot be lumped together with home-loving ghosts. This distinction must be made clear.

Someone asked: "If one completes life but not nature, one is still dragged down by the illusory body—why not complete nature and transcend?" The answer: "It depends on what one received from one's master from the beginning. If one was thoroughly enlightened throughout, after completing life one then completes nature, transcending the illusory body and manifesting the Dharma body (the true body cultivated through practice)—this proceeds naturally and cannot be halted by oneself. There are also those who know only the principles of life (the Dao of longevity and life-cultivation) but not the principles of nature; they can become terrestrial immortals, long-lived without dying, yet cannot escape the illusory body even if they wish to. If they know for themselves that there is still more above, they may seek a master for the secret transmission, understand the final move (the crucial last step), enter non-action from purposeful action, and are no longer dragged down by the illusory body. Then there is a body outside the body, form and spirit both wondrous, united with the Dao in truth."

Someone asked: “The way of wuwei (non-action) is originally something already complete for those of upper De—people whose pre-heaven foundation has not yet been depleted. Why do those of lower De, who seek to extend life and years, also practice the way of wuwei?”

The reply was: “Those of upper De have no loss in their root source, and the spiritual abode (the mysterious pass where spirit and qi dwell) is not yet blocked. If they obtain the true oral transmission, they can understand everything through one insight and reach liberation directly. Thus what they practice is the way of wuwei, yet within it deliberate cultivation is already included: when the heart-nature is clear, life itself is preserved at the same time.

Those of lower De have already depleted their pre-heaven endowment, and various illnesses arise together. Even if they receive the master’s oral transmission, they cannot at once achieve purity and unity; they must advance from gradual practice to sudden awakening, and turn from diligent exertion to natural stability. Only after the work on life (replenishing essence and completing the root of life) is accomplished do they walk the same path as those of upper De—then they can practice wuwei.

This does not mean that those of upper De only do wuwei and those of lower De only do deliberate cultivation. At the ultimate point of the Dao, neither being nor non-being holds; heaven and earth all return to emptiness: deliberate action is no longer applicable, and wuwei is no longer applicable either. What is called youwei and wuwei refers only to where one begins in cultivation. Not only do upper and lower De differ in how they begin; men and women also differ in where they start in practice.”

Someone asked: “In the practice of men and women, what difference is there at the outset?” The answer was: “For a man, the crucial starting point is refining qi; for a woman, the crucial starting point is refining form. Refining qi means subduing one’s own qi and making sure it turns and returns inward. Once qi returns inward, one reaches extreme emptiness, stillness, calm, and depth, returning to the root and restoring the original life-nature; then the White Tiger (the tendency of a man’s refined essence to leak outward) descends and is transformed. Refining form means concealing and dissolving the bodily form until the substance of form is extinguished. Once form is extinguished, the Four Greats (earth, water, fire, and wind—the classical way of describing what the body is made of) enter into emptiness; the limbs are as if stripped away and decayed, and the Red Pulse (the channel associated with a woman’s menstrual blood) is cut off.

When a man’s White Tiger has descended, he reverts to a childlike body; post-heaven essence no longer leaks out, and he can form the elixir or extend his years. When a woman’s Red Pulse is cut off, her body shifts toward the male pattern; yin-turbid blood no longer flows downward, and she can leave the realm of death and enter the realm of life. Therefore men’s practice is called solar refining of qi (taiyang lian qi), and women’s practice is called lunar refining of form (taiyin lian xing).”

Someone asked: “In women’s body refinement, is it unnecessary to subdue the qi?” The answer was: “Women’s innate nature belongs to yin, so qi is relatively easy to tame. What most obstructs the Way is the red tide (in female alchemy, the menstrual flow and related postnatal yin-blood qi). Therefore one must apply effort at this crucial point from the start. Once the red tide is cut off, qi naturally becomes docile. Men’s innate nature belongs to yang, so qi is hard to tame—roughly, a man may need three years to subdue qi, while a woman can do it in one. If she is truly a woman among women (firm in resolve, able to bear the great Way), and receives the master’s oral instructions to practice Taiyin body refinement (female practice that works through taiyin), she may attain the Way in three to five years, with less effort than a man. Yet such a woman is extremely rare: her fierce resolve must exceed a man’s by a hundredfold before the work can succeed; if she is only equal to a man in strength of will, success is utterly impossible.”

Someone asked: “The great Way originally makes no distinction between men and women—why then are there differences in practice?” The answer was: “The Way is the same; the application differs. Innate nature is not the same, and the physical form differs too. It is the same path of nature and life, but the concrete methods and effects differ greatly.”

Someone asked: “How is the red tide cut off?” The answer was: “The red tide arises from one’s own postnatal yin qi; when yin qi stirs, turbid blood flows. To transform this blood, one must first refine this qi. When qi is transformed, blood turns and rises upward, enters the breasts, turns from red to white, and circulates through the whole body—then there is no affliction of blazing desire-fire. When desire-fire subsides, true fire appears; from then on the course is steady and smooth, and preserving life and completing the self is naturally not difficult.”

Someone asked: “After the Golden Elixir (the elixir formed in neidan) is refined and swallowed, can a woman become a man and an old person a child—is that true?” The answer was: “That speaks of principle in the Way, not of physical form. After a woman attains the Way, when all yin aspects are stripped away, transformation is naturally not difficult.”

Someone asked: “After the Golden Elixir (the fruit of Neidan cultivation) is refined and swallowed, can a woman truly become a man and an old person return to childhood—is that real?” The answer was: “This is about principle, not about outward form. When a woman completes the Way, she refines away every trace of yin substance and becomes a body of pure yang, the same as when a man completes the Way—hence the saying that a woman turns into a man. When an old person completes the Way, he returns to the prenatal state and refines a body of pure yang, the same as when a child reaches fulfillment—hence the saying that the old become children again. The appearance does not literally change.”

They asked again: “If the Way has nothing to do with illusory changes of form, why is the Great Dao not transmitted to those whose six faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) are incomplete?” The answer was: “Those whose six faculties are incomplete are called people with crippling afflictions—people ill suited to bear this responsibility. The Dao is treasured by Heaven and Earth; to steal yin and yang and seize creation from the Creator is the work of a great sage. How could someone with crippling afflictions perform such earth-shaking deeds? Failure is not for lack of will but because the body is constrained and qi is blocked. To transmit the Great Dao to them would be to place a treasure that can serve a purpose in a place where it cannot—surely inviting heavenly punishment—so it is not dare transmitted. If someone’s six faculties are incomplete yet they can perform great merit and great cultivation, one may only instruct them in the lesser teaching of nature and principle, enough to open the path of coming and going through birth and death. As for the Great Way of the Golden Elixir, it is never given. The secret within is known only to those who have heard the Great Dao for themselves.”

Someone asked: “There are also people who possess all six sense faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind) yet attain only enlightenment of xing (nature) without obtaining ming (the life/destiny side of cultivation). Do they not know that ming exists as well?”

The reply was: “Ming here means the path of the nine returns and seven reversals—the great reversion elixir of golden fluid (Jinye dahuandan), the inner-alchemy process in which the ‘medicines’ are repeatedly sent back and refined in the furnace. That teaching is transmitted only once in myriad kalpas. Unless one is a true hero of the Way, with a will as firm as vajra-diamond, and endowed with the qualities of a sage, one cannot receive it. A genuine master would not dare to transmit it; even if transmission were attempted, spirits and gods would secretly obstruct it in the background. Such a person is not one who can bear the Great Dao; to give it to someone unfit is to leak heaven’s secrets. As for methods on the xing side—such as holding the center and embracing the One (shouzhong baoyi)—even those of middling or lower capacity who have virtue may be guided, so that this aspect may be brought to completion. Doctrine of xing is the innate secret that everyone already possesses; there is no notion of stealing from creation, and the stakes are not so grave. Still, if the person is not suitable, one must not transmit recklessly. Broadly speaking, among learners there are few of highest wisdom and many of middle and lower rank; therefore the patriarchs used xing doctrine to deliver people of middling capacity, and ming doctrine to deliver those of highest wisdom—teaching tailored to the person. There are also transmitting teachers who know only xing and not ming, and learners who receive only xing doctrine and never learn ming—one cannot treat all cases alike.”

They asked again: “If the Great Dao of the golden elixir is transmitted only once in myriad kalpas, would it not almost die out in the world?”

The reply was: “‘Once in myriad kalpas’ means this Way is supremely noble and precious, and must not be lightly handed down. Thus ancients who had completed the Way, failing to meet a suitable person, would hide in ordinary life for centuries, and only leave after they had found someone to receive it. Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan) obtained Chunyang (Lü Dongbin); Chunyang obtained Haichan (Liu Haichan) and Chongyang (Wang Chongyang)—each waited hundreds of years before meeting a successor. The ancients were this cautious; how reckless transmission can be is obvious. Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) three times transmitted to unworthy recipients and three times suffered heaven’s punishment—that too is proof that one must not transmit rashly.”

After Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin, the two patriarchs, had completed both the work on nature (liao xing—seeing one’s true nature) and the work on life (liao ming—refining jing, qi, and shen to transcend the limits of birth and death), they still had not found anyone worthy to receive the transmission, so they left their physical forms in the human world. The Purple Yang True Person (Zhang Boduan) three times transmitted the elixir method to people who should not have received it and three times suffered heavenly punishment—further proof that the Great Way must not be passed on recklessly.

Our lineage understands why they remained in the world; Chan Buddhism did not, and mocked them as “corpse-clinging ghosts” (lian shi gui—spirits who cling to the flesh and refuse to let go). So even what a superior person does is not necessarily recognized by everyone. This passage can follow the discussion distinguishing “leaving the body behind,” as further clarification.

Someone asked: “Is the Great Way of the Golden Elixir (the method of refining jing, qi, and shen within the body into the golden elixir) transmitted only to those of the highest spiritual capacity, so that those of middle and lower capacity can never receive it?” The answer was: “Middle and lower people can also receive it—it all depends on how that person studies. If one can work steadily, treat it as a matter of utmost importance, climb from the lower to the higher, go from shallow to deep, and apply effort longer and harder, sweetness will come after bitterness; when a true person (dedao zhe—one who has attained the Way) sees this, he will surely be willing to guide and receive them. If one’s innate capacity and virtue are shallow and one lacks great resolve, how could one even hear of the Great Way of the Golden Elixir?”

Someone asked, “Is there a method to studying the Dao?” The answer was: “Whether cultivation succeeds or fails depends entirely on how well one learns. Wherever you have not learned, you will be confused in that very place; whatever you do not understand, that matter will be hard to accomplish. Even with guidance from an illuminated master (one who knows the correct path), you must still grasp it yourself. Before you have heard the Dao, you must first become someone who truly lives for nature and life—nature meaning the heart-mind, life meaning the bodily existence. Living for nature and life means letting wine, sex, wealth, and status never bind you, and casting aside greed, anger, delusion, and attachment altogether. Apart from seeking the Way you seek nothing else; you sincerely draw near to those who possess the Dao, as reverently as you would serve Heaven, Earth, and the spirits, with no deceit in your heart. However bitter the discipline of establishing virtue and accumulating good deeds, you do not stop until you understand the principle; even if you never attain clarity in this lifetime, you feel no regret. With such a heart, sages and worthies will secretly assist you, and true masters will gladly instruct you.

People today do not study the Dao with a sincere heart. Even when they meet someone who understands, they refuse to bow their heads. The moment they do bow, within two or three days they demand the Way at once. At the slightest disappointment they decide they have no affinity and leave immediately. All their lives they neither accumulate virtue nor establish conduct; they care only for food and clothing and quarrel over worldly affairs, striving to dominate, full of greed, anger, delusion, and attachment in every respect. If they happen upon some heterodox minor technique, they treat it like a treasure and are smugly satisfied. Even when a lofty person stands before them, they pride themselves on already having the Dao and refuse to ask for correction. With such self-deception, how could they hope to obtain the true Dao?

As for the perfected person (one of supreme attainment), when he appears he is at once unlike ordinary people: he has both aspiration and the will to learn, he is honest yet intelligent, and he will not waste his years or ruin his future. Thus Xue Daoguang, after illuminating the mind and seeing his nature, knew there was still another side to the work—the life-practice and the Golden Elixir—so he sought an illuminated master again and finally received transmission from Shi Xinglin (Shi Tai), and only then accomplished the great Dao. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) three times refined the returning elixir (in internal alchemy, returning refined essence to form the elixir) without success; later he obtained Patriarch Cui’s Mirror for Entering Medicine (Yao Ru Jing), and the great elixir was then completed. Both men benefited because they were humble and earnest. Later students are arrogant and lofty, calling themselves sages and treating themselves as extraordinary; they refuse to work steadily at nature and life, dabble only in empty show, and still dream of becoming immortals. This is not seeking blessing but squandering it—how foolish.”

This commentary explains that Patriarch Lu (Lü Dongbin) only completed the returning elixir (Huandan) after receiving Cui Gong’s Rüyào Jìng (Mirror for Entering Medicine). The principle runs very deep: it can be told to those who understand, but is hard to make clear to ordinary people. If one merely reads it as a gong’an (case record), the book may be memorized yet the true point of the “topic” missed—then water and fire (Yin and Yang) fall out of balance and one invites harm. Even knowing the topic, if one loses a humble, open mind or grows proud and self-satisfied, one still misses it face to face, like entering a treasure mountain and leaving empty-handed. The root illness is refusing to truly cultivate nature and life (Xingming shuangxiu), and playing only with empty show. So-called “empty show” refers to the thread of that “One” within the body’s Wuji (Limitless)—one among the Three Powers and the Eight Lords—hanging high atop the peak of Mount Sumeru. What lies below the peak: people know to take it as medicine, place it behind the mirror, then refine it back before the mirror. Thus one neither clings nor falls into emptiness; swallowing and taking it inward is what counts as obtaining and as accomplishment. This is the gong’an of Patriarch Lu mastering the Rüyào Jìng until the elixir was complete. I recall my late master Taixu Weng spoke of this hidden meaning, and also said: once the Xuan Guan (mysterious pass) opens, worldly wealth feels hollow; when this treasure is gained, if there is nothing to pair it with, one still risks sinking in water and entering fire. Therefore this remark is appended after the answer, to show that Wu Yuanzi’s reply truly came from oral transmission; some of what follows was probably not daring to state plainly.

The question is: Patriarch Lu failed to complete the returning elixir three times—was what he obtained not genuine? What follows still says: append this after this answer, to verify that Wu Yuanzi’s reply was not without oral teaching; the words after were roughly not spoken openly.

Someone asked: “Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) failed to complete the Golden Elixir three times—does that mean the method he received was not authentic?” The reply was: “Patriarch Lü’s Dao method came from the Celestial Master Zhenyang (Zhongli Quan); it was genuinely transmitted. If it were not authentic, how could he have reconstituted the elixir at all? He had already achieved it, only to lose it again. In cultivating the Golden Elixir (Neidan—refining with the body’s own jing, qi, and shen as the ‘medicine’), gathering the medicine requires distinguishing mature from immature; refining requires knowing when to stop and what counts as enough; forming the elixir requires telling auspicious from inauspicious; nurturing requires understanding choutian (adjusting advance and retreat in the firing); shedding the elixir requires seizing the right moment. One must also separate true from false medicine, correct amount from excess or shortage, and proper from reversed application. Such difficulties are many; miss by a hair’s breadth and you err by a thousand miles. That Patriarch Lü three times failed to complete the elixir must mean his firing was overly subtle—something escaped his scrutiny—so the opportunity passed before his eyes and he gained it only to lose it again. Therefore those who study the Dao must understand the whole path from start to finish, penetrating its finest points without doubt, and only then may they begin; when they approach the furnace to cultivate, they will not go wrong.”

The commentary means this: someone of the stature of Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) must surely have penetrated the subtle and profound mysteries—how could he err in the fine points of operational timing (huohou), the skill of regulating the pace of refinement and the advance and retreat of the practice? It must be that what was shown earlier in the method lacked precisely this layer from Master Cui (Cui Xifan), the Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Entering the Medicine). Without that “mirror” working within, innate primordial Qi cannot coalesce inside the body, and acquired qi and blood cannot be transformed accordingly—this is what is called doing work only upon empty void. With no true Yin to support it, true Water and true Fire cannot unite; that single speck of the true substance has no way to change—how then could it be gathered and preserved by me? Patriarch Lü’s shortcoming lay exactly here.

After obtaining this book, one can grasp its meaning from the title, use it in cultivation, and thereby consolidate. Patriarch Lü had originally begun from clarity and stillness (qingjing); once he had the Ruyao Jing of Master Cui, he further used it to harmonize empty void, and the void in turn could wholly return and be restored, still without departing from the aim of clarity and stillness. How profound! The brilliance of the title lies precisely in this. Wu Yuanzi (Liu Yiming) understood in his heart but dared not explain plainly to ordinary followers; in this reply he only hinted with the four words “without a single doubt,” speaking to learners who could truly grasp it. The Great Dao is not lightly disclosed—and that is exactly how it is.

Question: If one has penetrated it from beginning to end, can one attain the Dao simply by taking up practice?

Answer: A master craftsman teaching others can only hand over the rule and compass; he cannot make their hands skillful by themselves. What the teacher transmits is no more than pointing out the true medicine, the true fire, and the great passes and great openings (the key junctures and aperture-points in inner refinement). Whether application is artful, whether the work proceeds urgently or gently, and whether accomplishment comes quickly or slowly—all depend on the learner’s strength, the firmness or weakness of resolve, and whether one’s endowment is sharp or dull. Hence the methods of the Great Dao are divided into upper, middle, and lower approaches; each person should measure his own capacity and practice accordingly.

Someone asked: “What are these three methods?” The answer was: “The highest is the method of spontaneous ease (ziran fa); the middle is the method of flexible adaptation (quandu fa)—measuring circumstances and applying the teaching as the situation requires; the lowest is the method of grinding refinement (gongmo fa)—cultivation through hardship and relentless discipline.

“The method of spontaneous ease is immediate awakening and complete penetration: understand in one place and everything falls into place. The mind-ground is clean, bare, and free of entanglement—whole and luminous. In walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one never leaves this original nature (benlai mianmu, one’s true face). Like a clear mirror or still water, nothing is unseen and nothing can hide from it. One moves at ease in the middle way and acts in settled harmony—Heaven and human act as one.

“The method of flexible adaptation works from post-heaven (houtian, the body-mind shaped after birth) back toward pre-heaven (xiantian, the root of original nature and life); within the ordinary forward course of life, one walks the returning, inverse path. The true transforms the false; the false is borrowed to complete the true. One adapts to changing conditions and takes what fits each affair—acting when benefit is clear—so inner and outer support each other.

“The method of grinding refinement is for those whose native endowment is dull and whose understanding is narrow. They must work entirely on the mind-ground and set worldly affairs wholly aside: temper the will, wear down the body, accept hunger, and be forged again and again—holding to the right path without letting go. They take on suffering others cannot bear and endure what others cannot endure. Where another understands in one round, they do a hundred; where another needs ten, they do a thousand. They apply fierce effort at every hard and painful point until the original face suddenly appears; from then on they practice with steady, solid work. This is the same road as the higher and middle methods—only one forces oneself forward and relies on self-effort to attain.

“These three methods are secret teachings passed mouth to mouth by immortals and true persons (xianzhen) of old. They teach people to practice according to their capacity: if one cannot follow the highest method, follow the middle; if one cannot follow the middle, follow the lowest—and in the end all converge on clarifying nature and fulfilling life (xing le ming). Apart from these three methods, there is no other way.”

This commentary means that for this reply, even if Taishang (Supreme Venerable Lord Laozi) were reborn, he would not change a word of it. The whole thing starts from refining the heart (lianxin—cultivating one’s inner nature); the principle of preserving life is already contained within. In this one answer alone, the master’s merit is great. When xingxue (the study of cultivating nature) reaches this level, mingxue (the study of cultivating life) will surely rank as superior or middling. From there, go further and investigate Cui Gong (Cui Xifan)’s Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Entering the Medicine—a classic of internal alchemy); if you practice accordingly even once, you will gain something—how much more so for someone whose root capacity (genqi—innate endowment) is middling or above. People like us should only engage in the lower methods (the foundational starting practices).

Those who study the Dao should know: even someone whose root capacity is like Patriarch Qiu (Qiu Chuji) still began with the lower methods—how much more those whose root capacity falls far short of his. I heard this from my late master, Master Taixu. The master said that Patriarch Qiu was originally Taiyi (the Star Lord of the Great Ultimate) descending into the human world, yet he suffered seventy-two great calamities and countless small ones; falls to his death, freezing, and starvation do not even count among the small trials. He bore them all in quiet endurance and was at last chosen by the Golden Gate (the celestial court) for the roster of immortals, ascended to verify the rank of heavenly minister (tianxiang), and became teacher for ten thousand generations. The Five Patriarchs (the five founding masters honored in the tradition) were enfeoffed as emperors according to the registers; Liu Zu (Patriarch Liu) among them was also given an imperial title. What sort of people are we, that we dare treat practicing the lower methods as hardship?

The late master also said: After Patriarch Qiu achieved the Dao he was summoned to the celestial court and grieved so deeply he could not rise. Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) memorialized the throne: “Qiu, as Taiyi incarnate in the world, still endured such torment. People in the world have shallow root capacity and cannot bear such tempering; the lineage of the Dao would be hard to carry on—therefore he grieves.” The Jade Emperor (Yuhuang Dadi) sighed and comforted him: “Whoever in the world has even three parts of your endowment will attain the same fruit as you. Celestial immortals above will involuntarily bow their heads, foreheads to the ground, in utmost reverence.” Patriarch Qiu then thanked the grace and withdrew. This public case (a teaching episode from the masters’ lives) is preserved in the Daozang (Daoist Canon)—great fortune for later students—but one must not seize on it for self-comfort. When the late master spoke of this, he himself could refrain from comforting himself with it; his admonition to later students was very deep. I record it here to warn myself.

Question: I have heard that immortals are divided into five ranks (in the books they are commonly distinguished as celestial immortal, spirit immortal, earthly immortal, human immortal, and ghost immortal)—are they all on this one path?

The answer goes on to make clear: do not use this to comfort yourself. When the late master spoke of this, his ability not to borrow it for self-comfort was precisely a profound warning to later students; the one who wrote it down also uses it to admonish himself.

Someone asked: “I have heard that immortals are divided into five grades—are they all cultivated by a single path?” The answer was: “They are not one path. Refining the golden-fluid great elixir (Jinye dadan) through the nine returns and seven reversions (jiu huan qi fan)—repeatedly refining and returning essence (Jing), Qi, and spirit (Shen) to their source—and thoroughly penetrating both life and nature (xing and ming), one attains a vajra-indestructible body, can manifest innumerable bodies, and may hide or appear in ways beyond measure: this is the path of the celestial immortal (tianxian), the Way transmitted only once in myriad kalpas. Returning from post-heaven to pre-heaven, reverting to emptiness and the source, returning to the root and restoring destiny (gui gen fu ming), condensing spirit and Qi, and preserving the form to dwell long in the world without dying—this is the path of the earthly immortal (dixian). Receiving the sanjia fulu (talismans and registers conferred at ordination), cultivating the wondrous methods of Shangqing and the Three Caverns (Dongzhen, Dongxuan, Dongshen), one can ride clouds and walk in mist, avoid the three calamities and eight hardships, and come and go without obstruction—this is the path of the ranked immortal (liexian), also called the Nangong path of body-protection (Nangong being the place in Daoist teaching where immortals are guarded and refined). Cultivating the nature of true emptiness, penetrating what has passed and foreknowing what is to come, releasing the yin spirit (yinshen) in corpse liberation (shijie)—the spirit leaving the bodily husk to gain release—and not falling into wretched destinies: this is the path of the ghost immortal (guixian), what is called completing oneself through the Way while keeping the whole form. Subduing body and mind, nourishing essence and Qi, dwelling in the world without affliction—this is the path of the human immortal (renxian; the original reads “entering immortal”), the road of cultivating the post-heaven. Among these five grades, only the earthly immortal, by going further and practicing the Way of non-action (Wuwei), can reach the rank of celestial immortal. The rest still face kalpic tribulation; to certify celestial immortality, many levels lie between, and without the path of the golden elixir (Jindan) to point and transform (dianhua) them, success is nearly impossible.”

The prior master Taixu Weng said: “If a cultivator obtains as the holy embryo (shengtai) what is produced by the union of Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), he is called a celestial immortal; if he obtains as the holy embryo what heaven and earth produce, he is called an earthly immortal; if he obtains as the holy embryo the primal true yin and true yang in the void, he is called a spirit immortal (shenxian); if he obtains as the embryo what the ‘living dragon and living tiger’ (shenlong huohu—a metaphor for yin and yang within the body) produce through union in emptiness, he is called a human immortal. If he further knows how to welcome the One of Taiji to point and transform it, he is called a water immortal (shuixian)—his transformations are hard to fathom and he is only slightly below the celestial immortal; it is not merely that his physical form does not decay.”

Someone asked: Becoming a sage, an immortal, or a Buddha—all are said to be attaining the Dao. Why is it called the Golden Elixir (Jindan), and why the “Nine Returns and Seven Reversals Golden Fluid Great Returning Elixir” (jiu huan qi fan jinye da huandan)? Why use “elixir” (dan) instead of “Dao”—what is the reason?

Answer: The Dao is the innate, undivided single Qi—also the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the source before Yin and Yang split. Dan means complete without lack, and lively with vitality; it symbolizes the Taiji. Dan is the Dao, and the Dao is dan—two names, one principle. Metal, from ancient times to now, does not decay; it lasts as long as Heaven and Earth—what is taken from it is extreme firmness. Nine is the completion number of Metal, seven the completion number of Fire; both belong to Yang. “Return” (fan) means returning to pure Yang, a state without Yin. The Dao is originally wuwei (non-action), yet the method of cultivation must involve deliberate action. If one stays only in wuwei, Yin and Yang keep shifting and lack cannot be avoided. The sage uses method to cultivate, refining with Metal and Fire (the inner alchemy “fire times,” not ordinary smelting). What was lacking becomes whole again; what is whole never lacks again. One returns to the Taiji, then to Wuji (the formless source), until the realm of no sound, no taste, silence, and vast emptiness. Heaven and Earth may perish; this does not—hence it is called the Nine Returns and Seven Reversals Golden Fluid Great Returning Elixir. It is called “dan” because it takes its name from refinement by fire.

They asked again: In cultivating this great elixir, is it better to cultivate in movement or in stillness?

Answer: The Dao runs through sleep and waking, penetrates darkness and light, and is not tied to movement or stillness. As for great practitioners, their vitality is lively; outwardly they are accommodating, inwardly upright—even in markets or court, what hindrance is there?

Someone asked: “When one is in the marketplace and at court, how can one devote oneself to cultivating the Dao, given inevitable social ties and worldly business?”

The reply was: “It is precisely amid market and court that one can exert great effect and set the great pivot (the key mechanism of cultivation) in motion—that is the superior approach. The Golden Elixir exists only among human beings; one must seek it in society and the busy world. The ancients, in great cities and thriving towns, relied on people of influence to pursue this work, and the reason lies exactly here.”

They asked again: “If the Dao is in empty void, why is it also said to be among human beings and in market and court?”

The answer: “Because the Dao is in empty void, ordinary people use it every day without knowing they do. Once one truly understands, walking, standing, sitting, and lying down are all the Dao. Human life is precisely where cultivation belongs, and market and court are the most practical places to put it into practice. Must one hide in quiet seclusion, treat everything as empty, and only then call that the Dao?”

Great cultivators who live among common people in the marketplace or hold high office at court often work in profound ways without anyone knowing. Those in the marketplace emphasize De (virtue); those at court emphasize Xing (practice in action). Virtue without practice does not fully count as virtue; when virtue is carried out as practice, the Dao can be realized. Wuyuanzi (Qing-dynasty Daoist Liu Yiming) said as much, yet there is another way the Dao operates that may not match what I heard long ago. What I was taught is this: De is supreme, all-encompassing virtue; Xing is vast, boundless practice. It costs not a single coin nor a thread of effort and can be put into effect at once. One moves among spouse, companions, and the crowd without showing any trace of being different, so others cannot guess or gossip. From morning to night the body is in the marketplace while the mind does not cling—like entering empty stillness; the body is not at court yet one is as if seated in the hall, able to embrace heaven, earth, and the four directions. Sometimes virtue and practice complete each other and one’s aim is fulfilled together; sometimes one first cultivates one kind of virtue until it is full and then turns to practice; sometimes one focuses on one kind of practice until it succeeds and then one’s vow is fulfilled. The subtle practice of sages of old was none other than the “Three Sages Healing the World” (the path of Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist sages to heal the world), aligned with the divine through reverence for the Yellow Emperor’s Yinfu Jing and Wenchang Dijun’s Yinzhu Wen. The key to begin lay in the Qingjing Miaojing (the classic on quiet clarity, non-action, and clearing the heart of desires). Others cannot know; one simply does one’s utmost. This I heard from Jizu Zhenren (the perfected one of Mount Jizu), who called it the usual way of the Lüzong (Discipline lineage) to cultivate in the world.

Question: Walking, standing, sitting, and lying are all Dao—why is there a separate matter of “refining sleep” (cultivating sleep)? Answer: Refining sleep is for beginners; one need only apply oneself fully to it. This I heard from Jizu Zhenren, who called it the usual way of the Lüzong to cultivate in the world.

Someone asked: “Whether walking, standing, sitting still, or lying down, every moment is the Dao—so why speak separately of refining sleep?”

The reply was: “Refining sleep is a matter for beginners. When ordinary people lie down to sleep, the spirit sinks into the yinku—the obscure, dark region of dullness—and qi disperses into the four limbs. In dreams they turn things upside down and wander in confusion; nets, boiling cauldrons, and pitfalls—there is hardly one they do not fall into. What they accumulate by day does not make up for what they lose at night. Therefore one must drive back the sleep demon, settle the heart-spirit within the body, let clear qi rise and turbid qi descend, so that cultivation is not blocked. Ancient immortals said: ‘Sleeping for one stretch is like being dead for one stretch; sleeping for one day is like being dead for one day. If every day has merit, and you can go a thousand days without sleep, the work is accomplished.’ They also said: ‘One year without sleep: the lower elixir congeals; two years without sleep: the middle elixir congeals; three years without sleep: the upper elixir congeals.’ This is sober truth. When you reach the stage where the empty chamber generates light (xushi shengbai)—the heart empty and bright, light arising of itself—and spirit constantly illumines, then sleeping is like being awake, and sleep is no longer forbidden. The Cantong qi (the elixir scripture transmitted by Wei Boyang) says: ‘When at rest, the spirits embrace one another and do not scatter; when you wake, examine whether your gongfu still holds or has slipped away.’ Such sleep does not hinder the work. Before reaching that stage, you must not sleep. Worthies of old—such as Elder Zhang of Guoqing Temple in Shu and the Sleep Immortal Elder Zhang in Huangzhong—both began by refining sleep and later could sleep for long stretches; that is the proof of refining sleep.”

Someone asked: “Lower elixir, middle elixir, upper elixir—are there really three elixirs?”

The reply was: “In the end it is one elixir. Spoken in parts: the lower elixir is refining essence into qi (jing hua qi); the middle elixir is refining qi into spirit (qi hua shen); the upper elixir is refining spirit to return to emptiness (shen huan xu). The names of the three elixirs refer to layers of the path. At the stage of returning to emptiness, essence, qi, and spirit blend into one qi—this is the Golden Elixir Great Returning Elixir (jinye da huandan). What scriptures call the three fields (the lower, middle, and upper dantian) and the three passes (three gates within the body) mean the same thing.”

In neidan practice, refining Jing (essence), refining Qi (vital energy), and refining Shen (spirit) are not done on separate days—one day on essence, the next on qi, the next on spirit. At each moment, all three are present together. The same holds for a typical alchemical text: it may list many layers from start to finish, yet one does not practice one layer today and another tomorrow. In a single circulation, every layer is traversed and nothing is skipped. Only in that way can one avoid the fault of leaning too heavily on one side. Someone whose passes and acupoints are not yet open, however, cannot yet practice in this integrated way.

The passes are divided into the anterior three passes and the posterior three passes. Opening the passes serves to regulate the Ren meridian (the channel running down the front midline of the body) and the Du meridian (the channel running up the back midline). In principle one would first open the Ren and then regulate the Du; in actual cultivation they are not separated like that. Ren and Du are still adjusted together within each inhalation and exhalation.

On inhalation, breath is drawn from the Yinqiao point at the “sea bottom.” From there it moves counter to the usual downward flow: it passes through the Weilü (tailbone gate), ascends along the spine, crosses the pillow pass at the nape, reaches the crown, and enters the Tiangu—the center of the brain, which is the upper Dantian (energy center). The crown is also called Kunlun, meaning the human head. From the brain, breath descends through the nose to the upper lip and meets the Ren meridian at Huachi, under the tongue; the groove above the upper lip is therefore called Huachi. This is the established method for regulating the Du meridian.

On exhalation, breath starts from Huachi, descends smoothly through Chonglou (the throat tube) to Jiangque (the chest region), then to Zhonghuang (the middle Dantian), then into the belly to the deep area behind the navel called Qihai, the lower Dantian, and finally reaches the Yinqiao point—between the anus and the scrotum, where Ren and Du converge. This is the established method for regulating the Ren meridian.

In all of this, intent guides the breath; visualization aligns with the Way. These are the standard methods beginners must use to open the passes.

Lu Dongbin (Lü Dongbin) said: “When the three-three passage is achieved, half the work is done; what follows is the subtle art of spirit—then close the Xun wind.” Xun wind is the breath in the nose. When the mind is stilled to the utmost, the breath becomes so fine it almost seems to stop; from there one enters taixi (embryonic breathing—internal cultivation in which breathing is so subtle it is nearly imperceptible). To reach taixi is the wondrous stage after the “three-three passage”; it is not some separate, extraordinary power.

At first one should work on opening the passes, temporarily using guided intention with each inhalation and exhalation. Once the passes are open and the three dantian (upper, middle, and lower energy centers) are not neglected, practice advances to extreme emptiness and profound stillness; even taixi fades away—only then is there true breath (zhenxi). Xi means cessation. When practice reaches the point where even true breath ceases, the hundred meridians also still, the six viscera and five organs are peaceful and harmonious, and that bit of innate (xiantian) qi—the original vitality as opposed to ordinary post-heaven breathing—is gathered at this step. Students should understand: what is called stopping or ceasing means refinement so extreme that one no longer feels beginning or end; at that moment this qi circulates through the whole body. The fine gradations in alchemical texts all converge in this instant, moving in completion without lack. The great transformative power spoken of in alchemical books as “seizing creation from nature” must never be taken lightly. To practice thus day after day without break—even becoming a celestial immortal is assured, let alone lesser attainments. The oral formulas come down to “two transformations, one return, two unions.” For now, step by step, return and return again; day by day it may seem insufficient, but month by month the accumulation exceeds need. The Yijing says “return when not far gone,” and also “he who does not persevere in virtue may suffer disgrace.” One must work with lively spontaneity—that is entirely up to the person. Students should keep this always in mind.

Someone asked: “Are jing (essence), qi (vital energy), and shen (spirit) post-heaven or pre-heaven?” The text below speaks of surplus; the Yijing says “return when not far gone” and “he who does not persevere in virtue may suffer disgrace.” To be lively and free—that depends wholly on the individual. Students should never forget this.

Someone asked: “Are jing, qi, and shen acquired or innate?” The reply was: “They are innate. The Xinyinjing (a brief scripture on the inner elixir of the heart seal) says: ‘The upper medicines have three grades: shen, qi, and jing; they are dim and obscure, hazy and silent—you cannot see them by looking or hear them by listening; from nothing, hold fast to this something, and in an instant it is accomplished.’ How could they be treated as acquired, tangible things? Therefore the great cultivator refines innate primordial jing, and the jing of sexual intercourse (the jing produced through post-heaven union) naturally does not leak; refines innate primordial qi, and the breath of respiration naturally harmonizes; refines innate primordial shen, and the shen of idle thought and illusion (the shen that stirs with intent and fancy) naturally settles into stillness and clarity. When the innate is perfected, the acquired follows and transforms. Only if the student strives in practice is there proof; otherwise one cannot even preserve the acquired—how much less the innate?”

[This answer from the Master is such that if the sages were reborn, they would not change a word. “From nothing, hold fast to something” is precisely the secret of returning to the innate; hence it is said that wuwei (non-action) is the mother of the ten thousand things. On this phrase, it seems the scripture’s “preserve” (cun) was altered to “from” (cong). “Preserve” is spontaneous and unforced; “from” implies deliberate effort. At the outset one must first proceed “from” before one can reach “preserve,” so there is no need to insist on the original character “preserve” in the scripture. The Master changed it intentionally—it is not a slip of the pen.]

Someone asked again: “If it is said to be accomplished in an instant, why is it also said to refine jing into qi, refine qi into shen, and refine shen to return to emptiness?” The reply was: “Accomplishment in an instant is the verification of obtaining the medicine; refining jing, refining qi, and refining shen are the progressive work of cultivation, and also where the subtlety of huohou (mastering the rhythm and degree of practice) lies.”

Question: “The three great medicines of the highest grade—the innate Yuan Jing (original essence), Yuan Qi (original vital energy), and Yuan Shen (original spirit)—all belong to the pre-heaven realm. Is the Golden Elixir formed solely by refining these three medicines?”

Answer: “Although the three medicines are pre-heaven in nature, they are formless and imageless and still lean toward yin; they cannot coalesce into the saintly embryo (the fetal body formed when spirit and qi unite as one). One must use the pre-heaven True One Qi (Zhenyi Qi) from within emptiness to transform them—only then can form arise from the formless and substance from the insubstantial, and the three medicines become purely yang.”

Question: “If form can arise from the formless and substance from the insubstantial, does the saintly embryo then have a visible form?”

Answer: “This is a dharma-body appearance (fa xiang), not a physical-color appearance (se xiang). The dharma aspect seems to have form, yet it is not the kind of form one ordinarily sees. This single qi condenses from within emptiness; it is also called the Yang Spirit (Yang Shen). When it gathers, it becomes form; when it disperses, it becomes qi. It does not drown in water or burn in fire; tigers and rhinoceroses cannot harm it, and blades cannot touch it. It comes and goes without obstruction—unlike the flesh body (se shen), which brings great calamity.”

Question: “Some people can send out the yin spirit—what is the reason for that?”

Answer: “That applies to those who have achieved the Jade Liquid Return Elixir (Yuye Huandan)—the stage centered on stillness, samadhi, and illuminating nature—and who have awakened to the suchness of true nature. Once nature is clear, the mind-intent does not scatter, and spirit becomes concentrated. At the utmost of stillness, spirit can leave the body and in an instant reach a thousand li; one can know past and future. But this is only a ghost immortal (guixian)—without shadow or form. To have a visible body, one must be reborn in a later life, seek an enlightened master, and cultivate the Great Way of the Golden Elixir. Therefore, when a great cultivator completes the Jade Liquid Return Elixir, they go on to cultivate the Golden Liquid Great Elixir (Jinye Dadan) until they return to pure yang without yin—only then do they stop.”

According to my late master, the Grand Void Elder (Taixu Weng): Those who have already attained the rank of Ghost Immortal (Gui Xian)—having refined only the yin spirit and not yet transcended the physical body—and who learn that there is still the supreme Great Vehicle (Dasheng) above them, may, if they then seek the Golden Fluid Great Elixir (Jinye Dadan), still find a shortcut. They need only make body and mind empty and still, set aside all awareness, shut off seeing and hearing, cut off discursive thought, and be altogether like an infant who has not yet learned to smile—sincerely welcoming the True One (Zhenyi) that descends from the Limitless (Wuji). Then the Golden Fluid Great Elixir will naturally be obtained before long. It is as though one wakes from a great dream: the natural true fire arises, neither forceful nor gentle—neither “martial” nor “literary” in the alchemical sense—so that refining and nourishing proceed together. Once yin qi is fully transformed into pure yang, one may study the way of the Celestial Immortal (Tian Xian).

One must, however, prepare in advance by laying aside all questions of being and non-being, persistence and extinction; when startled, do not startle; when pleased, do not rejoice. Apart from deep, clear stillness, regard everything as dream, illusion, bubble, and shadow. Only then can the True One remain constant, and the post-heaven (houtian) be transformed thereby. What is meant by “cause” or “basis” is reliance—namely, reliance on this True One that descends from the Limitless. This descending “One” is itself the mother of the Golden Fluid; it can transform the yin within the body. The yin in the body is precisely the Three Treasures (Sanbao)—Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit)—within oneself; in the body they are called pre-heaven (xiantian), and when they sink to the utmost they are called post-heaven; in essence they remain yin substances, and the method of transformation consists solely in relying on this One.

When practice reaches this stage, the power of bodily awareness will surely diminish noticeably; do not slacken on that account. At first it may seem unbearable; gradually the former state returns, and then one gradually enters peace and ease: the four limbs grow stronger, the complexion brightens, and the eyes gain luster. On this foundation, welcome again the Heavenly Gang (Tian Gang)—the celestial yang associated with the Northern Dipper—and reflect it back upon the True One within, so that the self may recover fresh life within a single day. With sincere guarding and without interruption, not only is the original single “One” fully restored—worldly goods and wealth also become abundant. When the time is ripe, the Great Returning Elixir (Dahuan Dan) will descend, and there will be no danger of sinking into water or plunging into fire.

He also said: Although Ghost Immortals have achieved the Way, if they do not add further methods, when calamity strikes the Four Great Elements (Si Da—earth, water, fire, and wind, the constituents of the body) will no longer belong to them, and they will have nowhere to abide. How then could they avoid migration and exile, or open a new field of life? This passage appears among our late master’s surviving discussions; it is recorded here after the present reply to supplement what Wuyuanzi (Liu Yiming’s Daoist name) did not cover, for students to consult and verify.

Someone asked: Are the stories people tell about reincarnation, spirit possession, and consciousness moving elsewhere or returning to where it lived before—the kind of thing meant here by “yin spirit”?

The answer: No. The yin spirit in the sense of ultimate truth is really the yuan shen (original spirit)—the spirit you are born with innately; it is only called “yin” because one has not yet liao ming (completed cultivation on the side of life). As for those who specialize in reincarnation and seizing another’s body, they are merely manipulating shi shen (the acquired, conscious mind), clinging to the seeds of samsara; it has nothing to do with the Dao. So they go out from here and enter there, cycling through birth and death without end. Compared with ordinary people, the only edge they have is that they can choose where they are reborn and do not fall into other species (beings other than humans). As for illuminating the mind and seeing nature, or entering samadhi and the spirit going forth—they cannot do any of that.

Another asked: If someone has already liao xing (clarified mind-nature) but not yet liao ming, and is reborn in a later life, will they still be confused?

The answer: Some will be confused, some will not. Those who are not confused are born already understanding xing (nature) and principle, and go on seeking the great elixir (the great work of internal alchemy) until the Great Dao is complete. The confused ones lose the path they had before; they need someone with clear eyes to point the way before they can grasp the causes from their previous life. For example, the Ming-dynasty zhuangyuan (top examinee) Master Luo—if his father had not reminded and guided him, he would almost have forgotten. Though confused for a time, the su gen (root carried over from past lives) is still there, so one hint and they wake up; without su gen, no amount of pointing will awaken them. This is true not only of those who have liao xing; even those who aspired to the Dao, cultivated all their lives yet never met a true teacher, after death and rebirth still carry su gen. As soon as they are born they know inwardly that this great matter awaits them; they keep working in the Way, striving in every way, single-mindedly devoted to cultivation and not greedy for glory or wealth—such people all have su gen. Without su gen, no matter how lonely, poor, or hard their lot, they would rather stay in hardship until death than enter this path.

Someone asked: “Those who cultivate nature—refining the heart-mind and completing spiritual nature—must still be reborn into the human realm if they are to finish the Great Dao. Those who cultivate life—training the body and extending longevity—can share Heaven’s span of years. Surely they never return?”

The reply was: “Some do return. The path of extending life through ritual arts and techniques is not something an ordinary person of weak resolve can obtain, nor can it be carried out without the highest wisdom Heaven bestows. Even when one has obtained it, one still needs deep merit accumulated by one’s ancestors, great personal merit and cultivation, and countless heavenly affinities converging—only then can this great work proceed without hindrance and reach a smooth completion. If one’s ancestors lacked virtue and one’s own karmic root from past lives is shallow, then no matter how boldly one presses on, things will go awry: sometimes life ends before the work is finished; sometimes, just as one is about to apply one’s effort, demonic obstacles in cultivation have already closed in. Often there is a method but no resources, there is Dao but no strength—many die still holding the Dao, having never completed it. Yet though they did not attain immortality, their comings and goings are clear and distinct, quite unlike those of ordinary people. Some die halfway through their practice; some die before they reach the halfway point. Those who die halfway through will in their next life surely be persons of innate knowledge, born already understanding the Great Dao. Those who die before the halfway point will in their next life also surely vow to seek the Dao. Therefore students of the Dao must recognize that they have a karmic root and must not give up on themselves. Once human form is lost, it is hard to regain even across myriad kalpas.”

Someone asked: “Can those who understand the Way from birth (sheng zhi zhe)—without taking a master—cultivate on their own?” The answer was: “Even if one already has some understanding and can put it into practice, there will still be points of confusion; without meeting a skilled person to guide one, one still cannot attain the Dao. With such guidance, one can suddenly awaken and penetrate fully—understanding in one place responds everywhere; from that point onward in cultivation, there is no failure to attain the Dao. I once met two people who were innately gifted: one was Master Gu of Jiangsu, the other Master Wang of Longxi. Master Gu was caught up in the path of official career; Master Wang was caught up in the pursuit of profit. Though they had some knowledge, they did not treat nature and life (xingming—the heart-mind and bodily life that Daoist practice holds central) as what matters most, and so they went astray. In cases like these two, their ancestors surely lacked great accumulated virtue, and they themselves lacked merit and practice (gongxing—virtue accumulated and actual cultivation); that is why they were endlessly bound by worldly affairs and could not escape the net—what their next life will be like is hard to say; it is truly a pity! Should those who come later to learn the Dao not accumulate virtue early?”

Someone else asked: “Do disciples also have roots carried over from past lives (su gen—foundations planted in former existences)?”

The disciple asked: “Do I too have sugen—roots carried over from former lives?”

The master answered: “If you had no sugen (the foundation brought from previous existences), how could you have heard the name of the Great Dao, or listened to discourse on the Great Dao? Whether you truly have sugen, you yourself do not know. I have a few words; when you hear them, you will understand of your own accord.”

He then recited a gatha—a brief verse meant to awaken insight:

“In a former life your surname was Yuan; in this life it is Lu. As Yuan you were called Chengde; as Lu you are called Wogu. Such is the thread of cause and effect from past to present—look closely at the path your own feet have taken. The meaning has been stated plainly; if you can awaken soon, awaken soon.”

The disciple at once attained deep realization, knelt, and offered a song:

“I see my body before and my body after—others are me, and I am others. Opening the primordial chaos, entering the spiritual grotto—the subtle aperture—I behold that one point of truth. That truth is like dew, like lightning: no head or tail, no face or countenance. It upholds heaven and bears up earth, beyond all reckoning; in vagueness and deep obscurity (huanghu yaoming) it yet transforms. Thanks to the master’s hidden pointing, I recognize this ancient treasure at last. The true face is right before my eyes—why seek elsewhere to set up new practices?”

While master and disciple spoke, the east whitened unawares and light spread over the land. The disciples went their separate ways; Wuyuanzi (Liu Yiming’s Daoist name) walked alone to the Xixin Pavilion (Pavilion of Washing the Heart).

Commentary on the latter part of Wuyuanzi of Qiyun Mountain’s Discriminating Difficulties in Cultivating Truth, by Master Liu Yiming of Tongcheng, with commentary by Min Yide, a later disciple of the Jingai lineage. Pre-heaven Jing, Qi, and Shen—the essence, vital energy, and spirit one receives from pre-heaven nature.

Ziqing Weng (the Southern Song Daoist Bai Yuchuan, styled Ziqing) said: The jing (essence) spoken of here is not the essence of male–female union, but the “saliva” from the mouth of the Jade Emperor (Yuhuang Dadi—a figure here standing for the supreme source of the pre-heaven realm). The qi (vital energy) here is not the breath through mouth and nose, but the mist transformed from taisu (the primordial state before the cosmos had fully differentiated). The shen (spirit) here is not the spirit of thoughts and deliberation; its stature may be set beside Yuanshi (Yuanshi Tianzun, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning). These are what are called yuan jing, yuan qi, and yuan shen—yuan meaning that they belong to what was originally there. Before a person has this body, these things already exist; because they exist, form arises from the formless and substance from the insubstantial. They come from the time before father and mother have united. At the very moment of union, before the father’s essence has emerged and the mother’s blood has enclosed it, amid mutual affinity there is something dark and hard to fathom: though blocked on the surface, it secretly connects; mingling into one, it swirls without dispersing. Then essence flows and blood receives; essence and blood blend and wrap this one point of the true, transforming into form—jing, qi, and shen are already lodged within the body. They are named three, yet in truth they are one. One is the meaning of hunyuan (the undivided whole before chaos was split); three is the name for the differentiated functioning of spirit-nature. One is substance; three is function. The body of hunyuan is pure and unmixed—that is jing; it permeates blood and vessels—that is qi; it is empty, numinous, and able to move—that is shen. The three are one, and the one is three. What “the three upper medicines” refers to is use; what “complete and perfectly round” refers to is substance. One cannot speak only of three, nor only of one. Many students do not know that the three are one and the one is three: some only embrace the one and guard unity, and fall into clinging to emptiness; some only refine the three grades of medicine, and err by fixating on form. Clinging to emptiness or to form—neither is the subtle principle of returning to the origin. Returning to the origin means returning yuan jing, yuan qi, and yuan shen. To cultivate the Dao, one must first know that these three things are hidden within hunyuan. Apart from hunyuan, one is not dealing with the substance of pre-heaven jing, qi, and shen; lose that substance, and one no longer has the original yuan-nature. The Xinyin Jing (Gaoshang Yuhuang Xinyin Miaojing, the Exalted Jade Emperor’s Heart Seal Scripture) says: The upper medicine has three grades—namely shen, qi, and jing; they are dim and indistinct, remote and dark; look and you do not see them, listen and you do not hear them; guard being from non-being, and in an instant it may be accomplished. Since it speaks of dimness, remoteness, and non-being versus being, one knows these are formless things. Only this yuan jing is like pearl or dew, pure and unmixed, able to moisten the bones and frame throughout the body; yuan qi is like smoke or mist, threading through the hundred vessels; yuan shen is utmost numinous and holy, presiding over all affairs. Understand this, and one may extend life and never grow old. If the student can recognize these three medicines, there is hope in cultivating the Dao.

If scholars can personally discern the Three Treasures (Jing, Qi, Shen) within Hunyuan—the primordial source before Heaven and Earth were divided—they will naturally not go astray. Moreover, the text has already compassionately pointed out principles such as “moistening and nourishing”; if one can know it in what seems like empty nothingness, one may extend life and achieve long life without aging. If scholars can recognize these Three Medicines—that is, Jing, Qi, and Shen—there is hope in cultivating the Way.

If scholars can discern the Three Treasures from within Hunyuan, they will naturally not err. Moreover, having been compassionately instructed on “moistening and nourishing” and the like, the meaning of “nothingness that is not nothingness”—what appears empty yet is not truly empty—can be as clear as the lines on one’s palm, sufficient for direct bodily realization. Once realized and held fast, one will not fall into clinging to emptiness (zhuokong); once one grasps the essential secret of “from nothingness,” one will not cling to form (zhixiang). The weighty words of ancient sages depend entirely on the mind-spirit (Shen) to comprehend them; to hear yet not penetrate is enough to lead oneself wrong. If after reading this passage one still clings to form or clings to emptiness, nothing more can be done.

Post-heaven Jing, Qi, and Shen refer to essence, vital energy, and spirit that exist only after one is born.

Postnatal Jing is the essence produced through sexual union between man and woman; postnatal Qi is the breath drawn in and out through the mouth and nose; postnatal Shen is the spirit of deliberation that arises whenever the mind moves and intentions form. All three have visible form and image—they belong to what appears only after birth. When man and woman unite, essence and blood merge and an embryo takes shape. Inside the womb there is only primordial Qi (prenatal primordial breath), not yet any breath of respiration. When the ten months of gestation are complete and the infant leaves the membrane at birth, the first cry draws the formed Qi of heaven and earth into the Dantian (the lower abdomen where Qi is stored), where it joins primordial Qi. From then on Qi enters and leaves through mouth and nose; outwardly it connects with the Qi of heaven and earth to become the Qi of the whole person—this is the root of the breath of respiration. Postnatal Shen also comes into being at this moment. This spirit is the shi-shen (the discriminating, clinging consciousness) that cycles through lifetime after lifetime of rebirth: it arrives first at conception and departs first at death; whether one is reborn as human or beast is it, doing good or evil is it, being born and dying is it; leaving the old body and entering a new one—none of this happens without it. The first cry at birth is precisely when this spirit enters the bodily orifices. Therefore if a newborn does not cry, it cannot live, because no spirit has entered the orifices. At first birth, Shen and Qi rely on each other as the root of the postnatal condition, and from this the illusory body is nourished and grows. As for the Jing of sexual union, it appears even later: there is none in the womb, and none at the moment of birth. By the age of sixteen, primordial Yang Qi is full; when full it inevitably overflows, and at the extreme it inevitably turns back. When Yang reaches its peak, Yin is born; when Yin arises, Yang recedes. Yin takes charge and Yang steps aside; formless Yin then gives rise to formed Yin. The kidney aperture opens, true water is depleted, and the fire of desire quietly flares.

With even a slight stirring, the fire within rises upward, scorching the whole body and driving the fluids of the bones and joints, blood vessels, and the five viscera and six bowels to boil together, surging upward to gather at Baihui (the crown of the head, where the hundred vessels meet). Blood and qi then descend from there along the Jiaji (the spinal pathway), reach the Shenshu region (around the kidney Shu points on the lower back), and only afterward transform into white essence, pass through Weilü (the pass at the tailbone), and exit at the yin opening (the genital outlet). This kind of essence was not present at birth, and after birth it was not originally stored there either—it is simply transformed from blood and qi. The kidney opening is merely the gate through which essence leaves; how could essence have originally resided in the kidneys?

So-called jiaogan zhi jing (essence generated through sexual union or emotional arousal) exists only when there is union or arousal; without union or arousal, it is not there. Nocturnal emission also arises from stirring; occasional emission without any felt stirring happens when the kidneys are deficient and blood and qi cannot hold firm, forced out by deviant fire. That is the origin of jiaogan zhi jing. When yang reaches its peak and turns to generate yin, not only essence arises from this—shen (spirit) used in thinking and qi (vital energy) used in breathing also suddenly flare up at the same moment.

Students of the Way must recognize: these three—essence, spirit, and qi—are all things that exist only after birth, not what was originally present before birth. Can one preserve life, extend years, and step outside yin and yang using what belongs to the postnatal realm? This deserves repeated reflection.

Commentary: Sages of old treasured these three things in the body because they can return and revert (huanfan); if they can revert, the three can return and unite as one, and what is postnatal is no longer merely postnatal. When you trace the practice, it is nothing outside the two characters “from non-being”—that is, to begin from the place of emptiness and nothingness.

Xiantian zhenyi zhi qi (pre-heaven true one qi) means the pre-heaven true qi that one originally possessed before birth—pure and undivided.

Yuanduzi (a sobriquet of inner alchemists) said: Pre-heaven qi (xiantian zhi qi) comes from emptiness and nothingness. The Wuzhen Pian (Awakening to Reality) says: the Dao gives rise to one qi from emptiness and nothingness, and from that one qi Yin and Yang are produced. Daoguang said: there is a thing that exists before Heaven and Earth, originally without a name, silent and vast; it can be the lord of the myriad forms and does not wither with the four seasons. All these words mean that pre-heaven qi is the ancestral qi that generates the myriad things—it comes from emptiness and nothingness, is lord of the myriad forms and ancestor of Heaven and Earth. It has no form and no image, no sound and no smell; it cannot be seen, heard, or touched. Though formless, it can give birth to form; though imageless, it can give birth to image. As spirit, it is the “spirit that is not spirit” (unlike ordinary conscious spirit); as qi, it is the qi of the True One (chunyī de xiantian zhi qi—pure primordial pre-heaven qi); as essence, it is the essence of the True One, also called the true seed, also called the Golden Elixir, also called the “deathless formula of another house” (a recipe drawn from elsewhere that can bring long life). It cannot be compared with post-heaven breath qi, deliberative spirit, or intercourse essence; it is also not the same as primordial essence, primordial qi, and primordial spirit. Primordial essence, primordial qi, and primordial spirit belong to Yang in the post-heaven realm, but when they return to the pre-heaven they still belong to Yin—unlike pre-heaven qi of the True One, which is not destroyed even after ten thousand kalpas, stands above the myriad categories in solitary eminence, is not bound by birth and death, and does not fall on either “being” or “non-being.” It is the root of post-heaven essence, qi, and spirit, and also the sovereign of pre-heaven essence, qi, and spirit; it is the utmost yang thing and a treasure of Heaven, which few in the world recognize. This thing is not inside the body and not outside the body; it does not fall within the Five Aggregates and Eight Consciousnesses, not in the five viscera and six bowels, not at the gates of the six sense faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind), not in the joints and orifices throughout the body—it is in the single aperture of the Mystical Pass (Xuanguan) (the pivot where nature and life meet in inner alchemy). If you seek it with intention, you cling to form; if you hold it without intention, you fall into emptiness. Reflect as you may, you cannot grasp it; discuss as you may, you cannot explain it. It was originally present in oneself, but when Yang reaches its extreme Yin is born, it goes into “another house” and is no longer one’s own. The perfected person (xiūyǎng zhìyú jízhì de rén) uses method to recover it—using the substantial to manifest the insubstantial, using being to manifest non-being; once stirred it shows a form, coming from empty nothingness.

When this qi is gathered and cultivated, it is refined again and again with yin fu (fire phases that seal, nourish, and warm) and yang fire (fire phases that activate and forge) until the elixir forms—a single grain no larger than a millet seed, swallowed into the belly. Then methods are applied to pursue and gather it: using the substantial to reveal the insubstantial, using what exists to complete what does not. Once it is stirred into motion, a form appears, yet it comes from empty space. The treasure of prior heaven is catalyzed: from nothing, something is born; post-heaven things are transformed, and yin is turned into yang. The Three Corpses (sanchen—the three harms said to dwell in the body and hasten early death) and the Five Thieves (wuzzei—the harms of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body that dissipate vitality outward) all vanish; the eighty-four thousand hair-spirits (maoshen) throughout the body become protective guardians. Hence the saying: “Swallow a single grain of golden elixir into the belly, and then you know that my life and fate are not ruled by Heaven.”

The deluded do not know that this prior-heaven true-one qi (xian tian zhen yi zhi qi) is the ancestral qi that generates the ten thousand things—the primordial breath before Primordial Chaos was split, the spiritual root when chaos first divided. Some take primordial qi (yuan qi) for it; some take the breath of one inhalation and exhalation in the dantian for it; some think that holding the one and guarding the center (bao yi shou zhong) is preserving it; some think that contemplating emptiness and stopping thoughts is observing it. There are even those called “seeds of hell,” who smelt the five metals and eight stones and gather things like red lead and “plum” substances, thinking that this is ingesting the prior-heaven true-one qi. Such byways—how can they be called the prior-heaven true-one qi?

The prior-heaven true-one qi is the primordial ancestral qi (hunyuan zu qi). It can generate heaven, earth, people, and things. As large as the boundless without, as small as the limitless within; movement and stillness are one, yin and yang interpenetrate. In prior heaven it gives birth to yin and yang; in post heaven it is hidden within yin and yang. It is the true one, not a false one. How could the true one be “held” or “guarded”? If it could be held and guarded, it would not be the true one; whatever is held and guarded must be a false one.

What people hold fast to is invariably a false “one.” If one thinks that the “true one”—the innate authenticity before heaven, that single reality that cannot be grasped—can be looked at and then fixed in place, how could the true one be seen or stopped? If it could truly be viewed and halted, that “one” would not be genuine; whatever is seen and stopped must be a false one. As for the myriad gates and schools, all those heterodox paths that stray from the Way, they take the thief for their child and abandon the correct for the deviant, having no idea what the qi of the true one is like. No wonder they cultivate to old age without achievement and end in emptiness and loss.

When Wuyuan (Liu Yiming) first met the Old Master of Kangu, he was shown the great Way of true cultivation and understood everything—except for the single phrase “pre-heaven qi comes from emptiness (xuwu),” which remained unclear for thirteen years because he could not see it for himself; though he read through the elixir scriptures, he still did not know the ultimate meaning. Later he met the Elder Xianliu, who broke open the source and flow for him, like biting through an iron pellet: in a word, all became clear and settled in his heart. Only then did he truly know: emptiness is real emptiness, and the true one is truly the true one; it belongs neither to oneself nor is it obtained from anywhere else; it cannot be put into words or drawn as an image—it can only be matched in mind and grasped in spirit. Released, it fills the six directions (heaven, earth, and the four quarters); gathered in, it retreats and hides in the secret place. It penetrates heaven; becoming sage or worthy, immortal or buddha, all proceed from it. If a person recognizes this pre-heaven qi of the true one, the root is already established, and everything else is secondary. Hence the ancient immortals said: “Obtain the one, and all affairs are complete.”

Once one receives the oral transmission and cultivates accordingly, every place can become an entry into the Dao. The ancient immortals said: “Green willows everywhere can tether a horse; every household’s gate opens onto Chang’an.” The meaning is that the Dao need not be sought far away—one can align with it wherever one is; to seek the true One (the innate primordial unity), one need only practice with sincere heart and one will attain it oneself. Yet unless one goes deep and cultivates to the state of spontaneity (ziran), there is absolutely no way to obtain it by luck or shortcuts.

The Dao that Wu Yuanzi (Liu Yiming) speaks of is the primordial Great Dao, devoted entirely to returning to the original root. If one cannot settle this body-and-mind in “before the primordial,” the Mystery Pass (xuanguan—the aperture where pre-heaven qi stirs) will not open. Following the methods he indicates, if one does not cultivate to spontaneity, the primordial will not appear and what one obtains will not be genuine. If one can hold to cessation-and-contemplation (zhiguan—stilling discursive thought and single-pointedly observing), and take one’s effort from “before the primordial,” penetrating to the degree of spontaneity, the whole of one’s spirit-and-mind will already have verified that “One.” Using this One to seek the true One is as easy as turning the hand—it will no longer be a matter of taking the false for the true.

As I have heard, what must be renounced here are the two paths of “red lead and plum” and “five metals and eight stones.” The former is the heterodox line that once used certain substances from the human body; the latter is the school that relies on external elixir minerals and drugs. Though ancients sometimes touched on them, they treated them only as seed-media to draw out the subtle mechanism—there is a role in triggering the mysterious—but to ingest them is by no means the immortals’ method, so they must be firmly rejected. Apart from these two paths, the other lines can all attain fruition, but all must take Wuwei (non-action) as the criterion. Proceeding step by step from “non-being,” one should still follow inner contemplation, outer contemplation, and distant contemplation; cultivating until there is nothing left to empty and no silence left to silence, then going further to seek the sage’s Dao, breaking through the void, one aligns with the primordial true One within the void—neither two nor one. This is what it means to obtain the Dao of the primordial true One. This teaching I received from the Master of Great Void (Taixu), and I also verified it with the True Person of Jizu (Jizu); I write it to supplement what Master Wu Yuan did not cover.

True and False Body-and-Mind: This section distinguishes the true and false in body and mind. The opening “People today all speak of the body” means that people nowadays all talk about this body.

When people speak of body and mind today, what they recognize is only the illusory, ever-changing body and mind—they do not know the genuine body and mind. Abandoning the real and chasing the false, it is no wonder that before their allotted years are up, body and mind are already worn out: the outer form still looks alive, yet the hun and po souls have already fallen into the demon’s den. Why say this? The illusory body is the flesh body; the illusory mind is the ordinary human mind. Eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind all arise from this illusory body; joy, anger, sorrow, delight, love, hatred, and desire all issue from this human mind. Each of the six roots (the six gateways of perception) is enough to drain one’s vitality; each deluded thought among the seven emotions can push a person toward death. Stirred by every contact and collision, how many can avoid harming their life in the process? To take the illusory body and mind for what is real is to treat the thief as one’s son and the servant as the master. Once Heaven no longer grants years of life, where will this body be? Where will this mind be? They are things of illusion—beyond doubt.

As for the true body, it is the Fah body (the true body that does not perish with the flesh); the true mind is the Heavenly Mind (the original mind aligned with the Dao, not pulled by desire). Yin-Yang and the Five Phases arise from the Fah body. The “infant,” the “radiant maiden,” “wood mother,” “metal lord,” and “yellow matron” (in Neidan they stand for true yang, true yin, and the mediating agent that harmonizes them—not people in the world), along with coral, giant clam, crystal, jade, and gold (metaphors for precious materials in the work of refinement—not worldly treasures), all arise from the Heavenly Mind. The five natures and their karmic conditions are seeds of attaining the Dao; these five supreme treasures are the capital used in Neidan (refining essence, qi, and spirit). With gathering and cultivation applied, one can revive the dead and return old age to youth. Yet most people do not recognize the Fah body and the Heavenly Mind, so the Fah body is buried while the illusory body is put in charge; the Heavenly Mind steps aside while the human mind takes power. Thus birth follows death and death follows birth, the wheel of samsara never ends, and there is no release.

This Fah body supports Heaven above and Earth below; it has no head or tail, no back or front, and stands at the center without leaning. In its firm aspect it can shatter empty space; in its soft aspect the transformations of the ten thousand things come to rest; in its solidity it is not drowned in water, not burned in fire, passes through metal and stone without obstruction, is not harmed by tigers and rhinos, and cannot be touched by blades and weapons. Human destiny is entrusted to it.

The Heavenly Heart spoken of here—the primordial heart-mind in Neidan—does not fall into the opposition of defilement and purity; at the utmost of emptiness it is also at the utmost of numinosity. It is utterly still, yet when touched it responds and penetrates. Viewed from the “still” side described in the scripture, it is not bound by solid form: entering water one does not drown, entering fire one is not burned, passing through metal and stone there is no obstruction; tigers and rhinoceros-like beasts cannot harm it, blades and weapons cannot touch it—this is where ming (life—the side of vital breath, blood, and spirit) is anchored.

This Heavenly Heart is likewise neither defiled nor pure, utterly empty and utterly numinous, still in silence yet able to feel and respond. Called still, it is without sound or taste; called active, it is wondrous to the extreme. In form it is like a reclining moon, like an upturned bowl, like a single grain of millet pearl; it does not lean toward color and form, nor toward empty nothingness—form is emptiness and emptiness is form; it does not lean toward being or toward non-being—being is non-being and non-being is being—this is where xing (nature—the primordial nature) is anchored.

Recognize such body-and-mind and use them to cultivate xing and ming, then both nature and life are resolved—as easy as turning the palm. Hence the ancients said: in the end it comes down to the two words “body and mind,” yet they are hidden within ten thousand volumes of alchemical scriptures. If one speaks only of the illusory physical body and ordinary human mind, plain and obvious, even fools and common folk know them—why would the alchemical classics hide and not speak plainly? The reason for concealment is that there are secrets hard to state openly; how can one treat this body-and-mind as illusory body-and-mind?

Is body-and-mind easy to know? Without decades of exhausting inquiry into principle, the Dharma Body is not easily seen and the Heavenly Heart is not easily illumined; if body-and-mind are still unknown, from what ground can one cultivate xing and ming? Students should strive with all their strength.

This commentary explains that the true body and true mind are fully present in everyone from the start. Those who are deluded lose them; those who awaken can restore them on their own. Ancient sages transmitted formulas such as zhuishe (recovery and recapture): either practicing through this very body to return, or setting up a medium to draw it back. Recovery and return are possible because the true and the illusory share one root and differ only in priority—telling them apart is not difficult. “One” (yi) is the substance; “origin” (yuan) is function. Follow function and you fall behind; follow substance and you can return to what came before. Whoever grasps this can clearly tell substance from function. What is called secret and hard to put into words comes down to deep cultivation and planting the seed, jie jia huan zhen (borrowing the false to return to the true)—working deeply in body and mind, laying a foundation, and using provisional form and qi to return to the pre-heaven—and to the various subtle uses of zhuishe. None of this can be separated from body and mind. Once true and illusory are distinguished there, cultivation has a direction and every step can align with the Dao. “True and false xing and ming” point to the same thing: sorting true from false in nature and life is nothing beyond the zhuishe applications above; clarify that, and conduct has a guide—each move can accord with the Dao.

The Book of Changes says: investigate principle to the utmost, fully develop your nature, and in the end you will penetrate destiny (ming). Ancient immortals said: if you cultivate nature (xing) but not life (ming), then even after countless kalpas your yin-bound spirit may still fail to enter the realm of sages; if you cultivate life but not nature, it is like a household with wealth but no one to steward it. Such sayings all concern the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu).

Yet nature has the logic of nature, and life has the logic of life; without the work of investigating principle (qiongli), neither can be understood. Nature divides into innate nature and dispositional nature; life divides into heaven-decreed destiny and Dao-qi destiny. Innate nature is the innate moral knowing and capacity: it holds all principles within and can respond to every affair. Dispositional nature appears as the differences between the wise and the foolish, the capable and the inept, because the qi one receives differs in clarity and turbidity, correctness and deviation. Heaven-decreed destiny is early death or long life, hardship or success, wealth or poverty—its span is not the same for everyone. Dao-qi destiny is vigorous, pure, and undivided; it aligns birth and death, endures through eternal kalpas, and neither heaven and earth nor yin and yang can constrain it.

Innate nature is the genuine; dispositional nature is the apparent. Dao-qi destiny is the genuine; heaven-decreed destiny is the apparent. The genuine belongs to the pre-heaven (xiantian)—before yin and yang—and lies outside their pairing; the apparent belongs to the post-heaven and falls within yin and yang. Because genuine and apparent differ, nature and life are also distinct. For those who cultivate the Dao, if they know how to refine innate nature to transform dispositional nature, and to cultivate Dao-qi destiny to convert heaven-decreed destiny, then the way of nature and life is attained.

Nature arises from the heart-mind (xin). The heart is the dwelling of spirit (shen): when the heart is clear, spirit is pure; when spirit is pure, nature is settled—so the transformation of nature depends on the heart. Life is the heart’s single knock upon the other: one knock always receives a response; when there is response, qi becomes alive, and living qi is the root of life. The person is just this body—so the transformation of life depends on the body. Life belongs to “the other house” (in inner alchemy, the partner side corresponding to ming); nature belongs to “our house” (the original heart corresponding to xing). First seek from the other house the method that does not die, to establish life and return it to the heart: the heart knocks once and there is response, qi turns alive and becomes the root of life; the person is this body, and the transformation of life is tied to the body.

Life-destiny (ming) belongs to “the other house”—the side on which establishing life depends; inner nature (xing) belongs to “one’s own house”—the innate mind-nature one already possesses. First one seeks from the other house the method of long life without death to settle life-destiny; then one seeks what one originally had in one’s own house to fully penetrate inner nature. Body and mind are not two separate matters; xing and ming are originally one family—only then can xing and ming be resolved together.

Side paths and heterodox teachings do not know what ming is: some take post-heaven Qi as ming, some take turbid essence in the kidneys as ming, some take “command” (ling) as ming; they also do not know what xing is: some take lucid knowing and perception as xing, some take stubborn emptiness and quiescent extinction as xing, some take endowed temperament as xing. All of these speak of ming without grasping the pivot of ming, and speak of xing without grasping the root of xing.

What is xing? Not knowing and not acting from contrivance, following the law of Heaven— that is xing; round, luminous, pure and bare, naked and clear (yuantuo tuo, guang zhuo zhuo, jing luo luo, chi sa sa)—that is xing; when Qian meets Xun, observe the “moon cave” (yue ku, a Neidan metaphor for where xing resides)—the moon cave is xing; “without desire, observe its wonder (miao)”—miao is xing.

What is ming? When male and female unite in essence and the ten thousand things are born—that is ming; the “thing in vagueness,” the “essence in obscurity”—that is ming; when earth meets thunder, see the “heaven root” (tian gen, the same metaphor family for the root of ming)—the heaven root is ming; “with desire, observe its opening (qiao)”—qiao is ming. “Without desire, observe the wonder; with desire, observe the opening” is how Neidan borrows phrasing from the Daodejing to distinguish xing and ming.

Only when xing and ming are thoroughly understood does one truly know xing and ming; knowing them, one can cultivate xing and ming. Alas! Those who know are already few—how much more those who truly practice? Why do students of the Way not clarify this early?

〔The principle of xing and ming has here been fully disclosed. Without decades of bitter effort, one cannot truly understand.〕

Prenatal and postnatal yin-yang: the yin-yang of the prenatal and the yin-yang of the postnatal.

In pre-heaven terms, yin and yang are being (you) and non-being (wu); in post-heaven terms, they are the heart and kidneys. Being and non-being have no physical form; heart and kidneys have visible images. “Being” refers to the single yang line in the Kan (Water) trigram—called true yang, also termed subtle manifestation (miaoyou); “non-being” refers to the single yin line in the Li (Fire) trigram—called true yin, also termed the vacuum (zhenkong). Kan is the water trigram: one yang between two yins above and below. Li is the fire trigram: one yin between two yangs above and below. Yang is called “true,” so it is not false yang; yin is called “true,” so it is not false yin. Where there is true yin and true yang, there must also be false yin and false yang. True yin and true yang come from the pre-heaven realm and transform within the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate). False yin and false yang come from the post-heaven realm and are stored inside the body. Taiji is the original state before yin and yang have separated. False yin and false yang exist as long as the body exists; when the body dies, they decay. True yin and true yang arise from the formless and operate where there is no image, so they do not perish. The yin and yang of heart and kidneys come from one’s parents.