《吕祖三尼医世说述管窥》

To read this “limited glimpse” (an explanation offered from a restricted angle), one must first understand the meanings of the “Three Origins” (sanyuan) and the “True One” (zhenyi).

“Qian Yuan” refers to the Qi (vital energy) of Heaven. In terms of the human body, it is the clear and harmonious Qi that descends from the crown of the head when a person is in a state of emptiness and stillness.

“Kun Yuan” refers to the Qi of Earth. In terms of the human body, it is the calm and harmonious Qi that rises from beneath the feet when a person is in a state of emptiness and stillness.

“Ren Yuan” refers to the Qi of central harmony. In terms of the human body, it is the Qi of true Yang generated when the Qi of the heart and the kidneys meet and blend in the central palace (the center of the body) in a state of emptiness and stillness.

In the state of primordial chaos, emptiness, and stillness, the “thing” that governs these Three Origins is called the “True One.” It cannot be inferred through words, nor depicted by imagination; when one’s cultivation has reached the proper stage, one will understand it naturally.

According to the Yishi, Patriarch Lü once received instruction from the Three Ni (three holy beings venerated in Daoism). Vinaya Master Tao of Shi’an held that the Three Ni are the spirits of sages in Heaven, who expounded the great Dao (the Way) of assisting Heaven and Earth and of transforming and nurturing the myriad things; Patriarch Lü once heard these teachings and later recounted them for others to study.

The main idea of this Jing (scripture/classic) is to begin with the cultivation of oneself in order to bring order to the ways of the world. This belongs to the transformative teaching of the Dao, not to ordinary magical arts. In my humble view, it takes its stand at the very root of the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity. The text of the Yishi is a precious scripture of Yuqing (the realm of the Clear and Subtle Heaven venerated in Daoism). Its contents are profound, much like the Dadong Yuzhang Jing (Scripture of the Jade Stanzas of the Great Cavern); ordinary people do not easily understand it, nor should it be transmitted at will. Patriarch Lü therefore did not make the original wording public, but only transmitted the principles within it to those who study the Dao with sincere hearts.

He also worried that students of the Dao would not know where to begin or when to start their cultivation, and so he carefully set out the sequence: first use the Cantong (Kinship of the Three) and the Wuzhen (Awakening to Reality) to cultivate nature and life; use the Dadong Yujing (Jade Scripture of the Great Cavern) to transform away the mundane; use the Changdao Zhenyan (True Words on Expounding the Dao) to temper mind and nature; and only afterward use the Sanni Yishi (The Three Ni Heal the World) to verify what practice has yielded. In this way one can grasp in the heart the scriptural meaning of the Yishi, and cultivation has a clear order of steps.

If people of aspiration in the world can grasp its main idea, carry it out with sincerity and practice it with reverence, and thereby continue the mind-method of the Three Ni while accumulating good deeds and merit, they can obtain benefit without having to expend wealth. Its efficacy is vast, yet this is no exaggeration. It is the ladder and the crossing that lead to the realm of celestial immortals.

I once quieted my mind and reflected on the meaning within it: cultivating oneself and ordering the world are connected, and the key lies in nurturing and consolidating the root. Only when the root has been well cultivated can the efficacy of practice advance step by step.

What is the essential point of cultivation? One must let go of attachment to the bodily form and outward appearance, unite one’s own Qi (vital energy) with Shen (spirit), and quietly guard and hold them as one would protect the life within an egg. Sustained over a long time, the inner mind and the outer world are no longer cut off from each other; Shen is ample, Qi is full, and Jing (essence) is transformed along with them.

Once one’s Shen and Qi are vigorous, whatever one undertakes has a foundation and is usually not blocked halfway. One then continues the practice until there is no longer any attachment to oneself or to the world, as if both body and world have already been forgotten, and returns to Taiwu (a state of extreme emptiness and stillness). When the work of practice is complete, one gathers body and mind back in and returns to Taichu (the primordial state before the myriad things had differentiated). At this point, both oneself and the world are to be gathered into the Zuqiao (the key aperture within the body spoken of in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation), and one then calmly ceases the practice.

Reaching this stage, cultivation benefits both oneself and one’s conduct in the world. Thereafter the two must still be coordinated and gradually refined, and one must give up thoughts of calculating results or measuring progress. Above all, one should constantly examine oneself: the body should be upright, mind and Shen should be single-minded, and action should be firm and enduring; as for one’s personal circumstances and the favorable or adverse turns, gains and losses, of worldly affairs, there is no need to be concerned.

Xie’s commentary (the annotation in the original text) adds: Forget the bodily form in order to nourish Qi; unite Shen with Qi, and through Taixi (a Daoist Neidan term referring to the fine, quiet breathing of breath cultivation, like that of a fetus) nurture true nature. Continually let go until one approaches Xiantian (the inherent condition before the myriad things came into being); then unite Shen and Qi once more and enter that which precedes Xiantian. Body and world are both forgotten, and one returns to Taiwu.

The commentary further says: Amid chaotic stillness, a thread of awareness suddenly appears; this awareness seems both present and absent. At this moment one turns inward to observe oneself, so as to bring about “no-thought within thought,” and goes on to reach empty stillness and vacant quiet. At first one releases the mind’s thoughts into extreme vastness, and then gathers them into the extremely minute, settling oneself and the world in a realm that cannot be heard and cannot be seen. All manner of scenes may appear one after another, yet the essential point remains always to maintain “no-thought within thought.”

II

I recall that when I formerly cultivated this practice, whenever body, mind, and the outer world were all forgotten, a scene would appear before my eyes: above, it was clear and limpid; below, turbid and fused together, as if without any boundary. Turning inward to observe myself, I found limbs and inner organs alike seeming as though nothing were there at all. I only sensed white like heaven and black like earth, as if a change that washes away the turbid and raises the clear were showing itself between movement and stillness.

When I settled into stillness and felt into it with care, the world below appeared layer upon layer, as distinct as the pattern on a chessboard. Contemplating still more quietly, I also saw crowds bustling about, as thick and confused as motes of dust dancing before a bright window.

I consulted Ancestor Lü about these signs of transformation in the movements of Qi (vital energy). Ancestor Lü said: “What first appeared is the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) in which the Three Powers—heaven, earth, and humanity—are blended into one. What then appeared in inward contemplation is your own Taiji. The scenes that later arose in profusion are subtle images, within that unified Taiji, of the countless Taiji of the world; all of them are held together within the one mind. You need only discern them without sinking into fixation, and see them without clinging. Continue your work day and night, without interruption. Only when the Qi of the True Unity of the Three Powers responds and descends into union may you go on to practice the further method.

“If you have not yet come into accord with True Unity, then simply continue cultivating along these signs. Make the mind still more empty and quiet, and set these scenes in which primordial Qi appears amid neither seeing nor hearing, so that they do not obscure the original source. In time, you may naturally obtain True Unity. I am very glad that you did not see these scenes by means of imagination. When subtle images are reflected into the mind, you are able not to stir a thought and instead to contemplate all the more quietly; you have not failed the protection of the Great Void. You must keep striving! What you have obtained now is still only a subtle image; once True Unity is gained, it is no longer an image. Yet how could True Unity be fixed in advance as requiring so many years of cultivation? Alas—the entry of subtle images into the body is a step on the ladder of further cultivation. You must keep striving!”

This took place in the sixteenth year of the Jiaqing reign (1811). Because the beginning of cultivation must pass through a realm of this kind, I have recorded it as an introductory guide for fellow practitioners.

From here one begins to cultivate the Dao (the Way), and Yin-Yang appears, together with the changes of rising and falling; these are all signs of the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang. In general, however, only what is gained through personal experience is genuine. Whenever deliberate imagination remains in the mind, one falls into illusion and delusive thoughts. Cultivation of the Dao therefore takes as its foundation the realization of Zhenyi (True Unity—the genuine, pure, and unitary original substance).

Zhenyi cannot be seized by clinging, yet once it is experienced, it naturally exists. What was described above is Zhenyuan (the primordial original Qi [vital energy]). One fundamental principle runs through Qi: inwardly it can be used to nourish body and mind, and outwardly it can be used to order the affairs of the world.

Qi is originally one, and only later divides into the two kinds, Yin and Yang: the light and clear rises, while the heavy and turbid sinks. This is the natural pattern of its working. Those who have attained the Dao go further and trace the source of this transformation. In principle, stillness tends toward clarity and purity, while movement tends toward turbidity; and what causes movement and stillness to change is likewise presided over by a spiritual intelligence. In the human person, the presiding agent is the heart-mind. The heart-mind is numinous and luminous, and must set its direction by means of a single thought; this is zhi (resolve). The noble person values the establishing of resolve. That one can become a worthy or a sage depends entirely on the power of a steadfast will. Once this is understood, there is a method for regulating the inner heart-mind.

The method of regulating the human heart comes to no more than the four words “firm, vigorous, centered, and upright.” What do firm, vigorous, centered, and upright mean? Inquire inwardly of your own heart, and the heart will understand of itself, for human beings are born with an innate nature. “Centered and upright” is the root of that nature; “firm and vigorous” is its function. This innate nature is the Heart of Heaven. Once this is understood, the cultivation of mind and nature has a method, and the inner heart has a standard. (Yide)

Although I have the aspiration, my ability has not yet reached it. I once heard my former teacher say in private that those who study the Dao (the Way) should follow the Changdao Zhenyan (a work of Daoist cultivation) in cleansing body and mind. In this way the original substance of the heart becomes thoroughly clear and bright, and one can distinguish the sequence of the movements of Qi (vital energy)—that is, the circulation and transformations of Qi. Blockage in these movements of Qi is a burden imposed by ordinary bodily form and substance. If one devoutly upholds the Jade Scriptures (Daoist classics), one’s temperament will transform of itself. If one further consults such works as the Cantong Qi and the Wuzhen Pian, one will not be misled by the metaphors they contain. The seven emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, aversion, and desire—will all return to the proper course of innate nature, and the innate endowment will thereby be made complete.

At this stage, with undivided concentration, one uses this cultivation to benefit the world and can apply it with marvelous ease. Near at hand it can influence a household or a village; farther off, a county or a prefecture. Carried to the utmost, even the Four Great Continents (the four great continents of ancient Buddhist and Daoist cosmology) can all be regulated within the square inch of the human heart. Calamities are eliminated, so that there are no disasters of flood and fire, no warfare, no insect blights, locust plagues, or epidemics. Social customs are set right; people are transformed by moral teaching and made wholly new; the common people live in peace and goods are abundant, and all is as joyful and harmonious as ascending a high terrace in spring. Practiced on a small scale, it yields small results; practiced on a large scale, it yields great results. The principle is just so. Whether it can take effect depends on the person who cultivates the Dao.

Human beings receive the Qi of Heaven and Earth, and therefore can penetrate the Qi of Heaven and Earth and set the Qi of Heaven and Earth in motion. Human Qi is the pivot of the two Qi of Heaven and Earth. If the work of cultivating nature and life (cultivating mind and nature, and refining life) is not yet complete, Qi cannot become spiritually responsive. Once that work is complete, the Four Great Elements (earth, water, fire, and wind, the four constituents of the human body) are already empty and still, and there is then no basis upon which to act.

(Xie’s note: When the cultivation of nature and life is complete, one is no longer a human being in the ordinary sense, and therefore has neither human thoughts nor a bodily form. Without a body, one cannot respond to the earth; without a mind, one cannot respond to Heaven. Without flesh and blood, sinews and bones, and Jing (essence) and Qi, one likewise cannot respond to the earth, the mountains and rivers, or the common people.)

Therefore even the celestial immortals must yield this authority to human beings. (Xie’s note: Human beings are able to transform Heaven and Earth; present-day science and technology are in fact transforming Heaven and Earth.) This is why human beings can be one of the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity.

It should be understood that Heaven and Earth are not “without mind” in the manner of two lifeless things. To say that Heaven and Earth are without mind means that they operate by following the natural Dao (the Way). If one does good, good fortune follows; if one does what is not good, calamity likewise follows. This is one principle by which the Three Powers (Sancai)—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—operate.

Where does control over calamity and good fortune lie? In fact it rests with human beings themselves; Heaven only accords with what people do. From this it can be seen that human beings have the power to change fate and to redirect the transformations of creation. Why is this so? Because to go against the correct Dao is to invite peril, while to follow the correct Dao is to obtain good fortune. Heaven is originally without partiality; both fortune and misfortune are brought on by people themselves. Indulge desire and go against the correct Dao, and there will be peril; dispel discordant Qi (vital energy) and follow the correct Dao, and one obtains the auspicious. The key to change lies mostly with human beings. Whenever someone sets a transformation in motion, the mechanism of Qi changes, and the human heart changes along with it; when the human heart changes, the intent of Heaven changes accordingly.

Xie’s annotation says: “The Dao of Heaven has no partiality of near or far; it constantly helps the good.” It also says that if an ordinary person suffers a wrongful grievance, there will be no rain for three years.

What is called “ji” (entrusting) does not mean taking something out and lodging it elsewhere. The Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity arise together from a single Qi and are originally one whole; only when viewed in terms of form are they divided into three kinds. Qi coalesces and forms bodies, each returning to its corresponding place—this is Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the root of the generation of the myriad things. Qi that is light and clear naturally returns to Heaven, and Qi that is heavy and turbid naturally returns to Earth; each follows its own kind. As the mechanism of Qi turns and transforms, the clear and the turbid continually generate and transform. Their root is Zhenyuan (the primordial Qi of the source); what is mysterious and still more mysterious, and able to dissolve the distinction between clear and turbid, is Zhenyi (the pure and unitary root of the Dao). When the noble person understands this, one can guide by following the tendency, bring the myriad things into mutual accord and transformation, and let each return to the precelestial source. This is to have grasped the essential point.

Although Zhenyi exists within the multitude of things, it is not thereby differentiated; when it exists alone, it does not thereby become an isolated thing. The myriad things receive Zhenyi in common, and yet each differentiates; after each has differentiated, each can still accord with Zhenyi. The noble person who knows how to guide by following the tendency, bring the myriad things into mutual accord and transformation, and cause each to return to the precelestial source—only then can one be said to have grasped the essential point.

This is Zhenyi, the primordial and complete “One.” It enters among the multitude yet does not blend indistinguishably with them; it stands alone yet is not isolated. All alike obtain the Dao (the Way), yet each receives a distinct share; each brings something to completion, and these attainments can meet and join once more. Yuan and the One may be called one, yet they are not entirely the same; they may be called two, yet they are not sharply divided.

Speaking of Qi (vital energy) for the moment as divided, one calls it Zhenyi; speaking of Qi as gathered together, one calls it Zhenyuan, the authentic primordial Qi. The Qi of the Heart of Heaven (Tianxin) is called Zhenyuan, and that which governs Zhenyuan is called Zhenyi; Zhenyi is the Heart of Heaven. The Heart of Heaven has no form; once bestowed upon a person, it manifests as something with form—this is the person’s Zhenyi. Although Zhenyuan is Qi, one must rely on the heart to receive Zhenyi, and then, by means of Zhenyi, regulate and nurture Zhenyuan.

Heaven forges the human form with Zhenyi and Zhenyuan; I cultivate the form with Zhenyi and Zhenyuan, so that body and mind each rest secure. This is called Yishi, “healing the world,” and it is the learning that studies nature and life.

One who acts with intention yet is not attached to acting will expend mind and strength to the utmost and fully unfold innate nature in order to reach this realm; as for whether there is any verification, such a person does not wish others to know. The time of practice may be long or short, the distance far or near, and the states realized likewise differ in height.

The gentleman preserves and nourishes mind and nature, bringing inner cultivation into accord with outer conduct, and thereby accomplishes his own Dao, without reckoning results—still less calculating fame and achievement in the human world. This belongs within the allotment of one’s nature; once a mind set on deliberate seeking arises, one can no longer discuss the Dao with him. The scholar ranks first among the four classes of people—scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—because he bears the responsibility of instructing the common people. Having had the chance to hear such a principle, how could one fail to cultivate it with effort?

The fifth.

This method of cultivation requires that, when the mind within is settled and still, one carefully observe whether the movement of Qi (vital energy)—the circulation of breath in the body—is open or blocked. When the breath has become full and harmonious, one constantly guards one’s own clarity. This includes both the principle of the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu; cultivating mind-nature and life together) and the significance of using it to order worldly affairs and bring peace and aid to the people. (Yide says: I once studied this method and privately gained some understanding.)

First let the mind and Shen (spirit) concentrate on the crown of the head, then pass downward from the crown into the chest. This is like serving the sovereign and opening the heart’s intention, a sign that ruler and minister understand one another. Next, Qi passes down from the chest to the abdomen, as if carrying out the mind of Heaven and settling the people—the work of pacifying the people and aiding the world. In terms of the human body, this is the method of clearing the channels and circulating the Du vessel and the Ren vessel.

Then Qi passes from the lower body through the Weilu (the end of the spine), ascends along the Jiaji, pierces the Yuzhen (the back of the head), rises to Kunlun (the crown), and comes to rest in the Niwan (the site of cultivation within the head). At this moment it is as if heavenly thunder shakes—Xie’s note says that the “mysterious pass of nature” (xing xuanguan; the opening of the aperture in the cultivation of nature and life) has opened. Fluids like sweet dew flow down in abundance, and the five viscera feel cool and clear. By now the Ren and Du vessels have already joined: the Qi of Heaven descends and the Qi of Earth rises; warmth nourishes and life springs forth; what is embraced is vast; the myriad things grow smoothly; above and below are in harmonious communion; court and common people communicate with one another; and the people draw near to those above. This is like making the people’s livelihood abundant and leaving wealth with the people.

The treasures within the earth are no longer withheld. Qi rises to the heavenly court and, again like sweet dew, spreads in fullness, then falls back into the Huachi (where the fluids of the mouth gather), lingering there to protect and nourish the Jianggong (the region of the heart). Breath moves from below upward, and upper and lower are connected, so that a state of peace and tranquility can be reached. Thereafter Kun and Qian (the Yin-Yang Qi of Earth and Heaven) meet and unite, and the breath, fine and unbroken, continually illuminates and warmly nourishes. Xie’s note explains that at this time there are no stray thoughts in the mind, which is called “zhaozhu”; one then warms and nourishes and bathes, using fetal breathing (taixi; breath as subtle as that of a fetus) to nurture true Qi. In this way customs can be transformed and the people renewed, displaying an atmosphere of flourishing harmony. If one asks how all this can come about, it is because within the body the “True One” (zhenyi; the pure and unitary original Qi) presides as master.

This method of the Dao may be called a precious raft for ascending to immortality, and it may also be called a wondrous practice for aiding and governing the world. Yet if one cannot reach the utmost of emptiness and stillness and firmly guard stillness, and if cultivation and attained power are not yet sufficient, it cannot be practiced.

Patriarch Lü says: “If one does not know how to let consciousness rest at the crown of the head, cunxiang (visualization) cannot reach the feet; if one does not know how to visualize the chest, visualization cannot reach the feet; if one does not know how to visualize the abdomen, visualization cannot reach the feet. These three sites are not opened through. If one does not know how to visualize the farthest point of the lower body, visualization cannot reach the very bottom, and the latter three sites likewise cannot be opened through. When the former three sites and the latter three sites are all opened through, half the work is complete. The work of attaining immortality and of ordering the world must be cultivated with single-minded concentration, and the effort applied again and again.” Xie’s note: This is a secret method for opening the body’s critical passes and easing the movement of Qi (vital energy). First visualize in sequence the crown, the chest, and the abdomen, then set the visualization aside; let the body become empty and still while Qi circulates, and within the forgetting of thought nurture the true fire. When the whole body is thoroughly interconnected and body and mind are joined, the practitioner rests securely within this, and the hundred apertures throughout the body open. The work of the latter half is to close the Xun wind. Xie’s note: What is called “closing the Xun wind” is the practice of embryonic breathing (taixi).

The commentary says: “Gong” means to govern and cultivate with concentrated attention; the “Xun wind” refers to breath through the nose. The nose has two openings. When the practice reaches completion, breath no longer enters and leaves through the nostrils, but rises and descends along the inner passage called the Yellow Path (Huangdao); the nose seems as if it no longer functions, and this is called “closing.” This is the manifestation of having reached extreme emptiness and stillness, and its general sense accords with what Mencius called “upright nurturing.” What is being nurtured here? It is the True One (Zhenyi). Mencius’s saying that it is “supremely great and supremely firm, filling all between heaven and earth,” together with his warning not to force results in haste like the man of Song who pulled up the seedlings to help them grow, precisely brings out this meaning.

The sixth.

Looking back to when I first studied this method, I had not yet fully grasped it. I simply sat cross-legged and upright, body straight, mind emptied, and breath evenly regulated, keeping my attention steadily settled at the lower pole (Xiaji, the site of cultivation in the lower abdomen). Gradually I felt that place grow full and peaceful, slowly becoming warm, as if under moxibustion. I continued to guard it quietly, without interfering. After some time, I sensed warm Qi (vital energy) rising in billows and moving backward. I still waited in quietness and did not urge it on.

After another interval, I felt the lower pole become broad and spacious, with the movement of Qi meeting no obstruction, and I knew that it was about to pass through the gates and apertures and travel upward. The “gate” spoken of here is the Weilu (the pass at the lower end of the spine). Slightly applying the knack of “tilting below and lifting above,” I relaxed naturally in accord with the movement of Qi and let it proceed of its own accord. I then felt as if my back were no longer a back at all, opening out like a level highway. It continued ascending for dozens of li (Chinese miles). Flowers flourished along both sides of the road. Walkers, riders, and people in carriages and sedan chairs came and went, shoulder against shoulder and wheel against wheel, as bustling as the markets of the Five Capitals (great and flourishing cities). Carriages, horses, and ceremonial retinues gathered; wagons of goods followed one another without end; people from foreign lands also arrived in crowds, as if the myriad nations were presenting rare treasures and turning toward the capital.

Suddenly I saw a white rainbow rise from the Northern Sea, accompanied by a grave, rushing sound, and race straight toward the high ridges of the south. My Yuanshen (original spirit, the spiritual subject spoken of in cultivation) followed behind it. I saw that the summit was exceedingly level and broad, with halls rising in the middle, resplendent in gold and azure and dazzlingly brilliant, as if there were another heaven and earth. This is what Daoists call Kunlun, and what the Buddhist scriptures call the Tusita Heaven; in fact, it refers to the head of the human body.

At this point I dared not linger to gaze. Before long I again saw a crimson radiance of Qi rising from the south, rumbling loudly, and I knew it to be Tiangang (the Qi of the Heavenly Dipper spoken of in Daoism). After a single crash, it struck against the white rainbow, and the two then joined to form a long bridge spanning the void. On the bridge, ceremonial retinues passed back and forth in confusion. Then a wind brought dense sounds, like jade vessels striking one another. I knew this was celestial music, and dared not listen to it with fixed attention. I also saw immortals wearing star-crowns and feathered robes, together with immortal birds and divine beasts, circling and flying all about. The scene was as splendid as a circular painted scroll, its radiance filling the air.

At this my heart suddenly throbbed and was on the point of stirring. I concentrated my Shen (spirit) and settled the mind, and the scene before my eyes abruptly vanished into silence, while all around became like the dark of night. Mind and spirit wavered slightly once more, and I was disturbed by noises like a tiger’s roar and an ape’s cry. After I had remained still for a long while, a tremendous sound suddenly arose, swift as a thunderclap. I knew this to be the moment of “Bo and Fu” (the juncture of Yin-Yang decline and growth, and of reversal and transformation). I therefore gathered in mind and spirit and waited quietly. I felt as if sweet dew were descending, and a fragrance of sandalwood spread from my whole body. After I remained quiet and unmoving, light suddenly opened out, and before my eyes appeared fertile plains stretching a thousand li, cities ringed by walls, grand and magnificent in aspect. This is what Buddhist scriptures call the heaven of Śakra (Indra), and what Daoist scriptures call Yin’e (the palatial realm within the inner vision). As I became solemnly reverent, I indeed saw a celestial deity descend wearing a ceremonial crown, with carriage and retinue grave and stately. I then bowed and paid homage, visualizing the reception of the “True One” (Zhenyi, a term of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), referring to the utmost true unitary Qi within the body), and I upheld and guarded the celestial palace.

After a while, I suddenly felt myself going far away with the clouds and leaving the Gate of Heaven. Looking back at the celestial palace, I saw it dazzling in the five colors. Looking down upon the earth, I found it like a chessboard: near and far, fields interlocked, and mountains and rivers ran in every direction. I knew this to be the human world below. Clouds and Qi hung down, and auspicious light interwove, as if brocade covered the vast heaven and earth. Concentrating my spirit and looking closely, I saw the crowds coming and going as small as grains of millet or ants. As I gradually drew nearer, I could see them with perfect clarity, as if they were displayed upon the palm of my hand.

At this I felt that the multitude was not a multitude separate from me, but seemed to be manifested out of “me.” Their sorrow and joy, their worry and delight, I could all feel as my own, as if I were living through them myself. This is the state in which the myriad things are fused into one, and the person and the myriad things are no longer divided.

Xie’s note explains: the Yuanshen enters the spirit chamber in the chest, the place where the human heart arises. Since the unity of Heaven and humanity has already been reached, the “heart” within the spirit chamber also communicates with the hearts of all people under Heaven. Others and oneself become one: every person is myself, and I am every person. At this moment the practitioner must not let the Yuanshen scatter, nor follow deluded thoughts and the discriminating mind in chasing external forms and the movements of Qi. One should maintain empty stillness and undifferentiated chaos, and corresponding transformations will arise of themselves. Otherwise, it is to be feared that serious troubles will follow.

In this state, living beings are close and affectionate toward one another, Heaven and Earth are filled with vitality, and the Qi of the Three Origins (Sanyuan, the three kinds of primordial Qi spoken of in Daoism) harmonizes and condenses. Body, mind, and the world all rest in peace and concord. It is a pity that, at the time, I had not yet been able to apply the method of receiving the “True One” and infuse this harmonious Qi among the multitudes of living beings, but instead turned to empty stillness and inward contemplation. Xie’s note says: at this point one had not yet entered the realm of Wuji (the Limitless) and primordial chaos, yet hastily turned the light of awareness back upon oneself. According to the Neidan method of cultivation, the awareness came too early, and the time was not yet ripe.

After a long while more, the Yuanshen emerged from meditative absorption. I was still sitting cross-legged and upright as at the beginning, yet my appearance had changed all at once: I had suddenly become a youth, and my beard and hair had turned from white to black. This took place on the day of the winter solstice in the eighteenth year of the Jiaqing reign.

Xie’s note points out: this passage begins from embryonic breathing (Taixi, the state in cultivation in which the breath is made fine, subtle, and continuous, as if like the breathing of a fetus), taking the “lower pole” and the Kun abdomen (the lower abdomen) as the point of entry. This is a further inner method of the cultivation of “healing the world” (Yishi). The previous stage emphasizes cleansing the heart and washing the marrow, and filling one’s own spirit and Qi; this stage turns instead to the cultivation of true embryonic breathing, and thereby advances in the method of healing the world.

I am shallow in learning and still lacking in the discipline of cultivation, so how would I dare claim that I could be of any help to the world? Cautiously, I submitted the states I have personally experienced to Patriarch Lü (Lüzu) for instruction. Patriarch Lü said, "You have already grasped it. If you can persevere in practice without slackening, there will surely be results." As for the stages of cultivation described above, one need not cling to them or copy them wholesale, for each person's state of spirit and level of attainment differ, and one cannot seek them by following a diagram.

Section Seven

Having examined this book with care, I find that leaving worldly affairs behind and devoting oneself solely to self-cultivation can indeed lead to the attainment of immortality. But if one can take oneself as the starting point and bring order to the whole world, so that both oneself and the world benefit and one finally achieves the fruit of the Dao, this is the ideal of having both together.

The key to this, as already outlined above, is that what must be cleared away are ordinary emotions and deluded thoughts and false knowledge, while what must be welcomed and nourished are the Primal Qian and the Primal Kun (the original sources of Yin-Yang in heaven and earth), together with the True One (Zhenyi) within them. If Qian qi is not joined by Kun qi, it cannot be harmonized; if Kun qi is not complemented by Qian qi, it cannot become clear. If one welcomes only the two qi of Qian and Kun, without knowing to draw in the True One within them, it is like heating an empty pot with water and fire: one can never refine the Internal Alchemy (Neidan) or attain immortality, because there is nothing in the pot. The "thing" spoken of here is the True One.

Once the True One is obtained, cultivation has a master, and one's conduct does not lean to either extreme. This is the guiding principle of the Yishi (Healing the World). If one sincerely practices accordingly, the secret within it runs deeper still; ultimately, a "True Self" must preside (the True One of a person, also called the original spirit and true intent, or the Internal Alchemy of the self-Earth). This means using the truth of one's own being to resonate with the truth of the Three Powers of heaven, earth, and humanity, reversing the course of cultivation so that life returns to the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the undifferentiated source of all things).

Where the world has grown thin in virtue and depleted, one should weigh matters carefully and set them in order, making them upright and peaceful, and sustain and adjust them at the proper times. In doing this, one need not count how many years it takes, nor concern oneself with when results will appear; one need only give the strength of one's whole life to it.

Among the ancients there were indeed those who practiced in this way, and their deeds are recorded in the classics. Zhang Ya of Wuhui in the Zhou dynasty, styled Shanxun, quietly carried out the methods of healing the world and achieved merit that has been remembered through the ages. During the reign of King Cheng of Zhou, he silently assisted the Duke of Zhou and the Duke of Shao, so that governance and teaching flowed freely, the state was secure, and blessings long endured. Later he attained the rank of Wenchang (becoming an immortal of the Wenchang order). His deeds are recorded in the Baolu (Precious Records) and were also cited in the original preface to the Wenchang Dadong Xianjing (Wenchang Scripture of the Great Cavern); that preface was personally composed by Lady Cunhua Wei (Cunhua Wei Yuanjun).

(Yide) Having received instruction from my former master, I diligently practiced “Yingyuan” (the method of welcoming primordial Qi), and entered it in the precious record. The original preface to the Wenchang Dadong Xianjing also cites this passage; the preface states that the work was written in the hand of Cunhua Wei Yuanjun.

(Yide) Having received instruction from my former master, I diligently practiced “Yingyuan,” yet I had still not attended to “Yingyi” (the method of welcoming the True One). This was because I had not yet thoroughly understood the principle of nature and life, and I feared I could hardly correspond with the “True One”; it was also because, never having heard the profound principles involved, I waited presumptuously, always intending to investigate the secret purport elsewhere before taking up the practice. Even so, the practice of “Yingyuan” had already repeatedly manifested miraculous responses.

In the places where I long resided, flowers that had opened in spring bloomed again in autumn—not merely once or twice, but even three, four, or five times. At the Cloud Nest of Mount Jingai; at De Hermitage, Lianhua Hermitage, and Baoyuan Hall of Good Works in Gusu (present-day Suzhou); at Tianzhu Abbey and Banchi Hermitage in Yuhang; at Jining Pavilion in Wulin (the area of present-day Hangzhou); and at Little Penglai in Shanghai, such scenes appeared: apricot, peach, yulan magnolia, redbud, lily magnolia, flowering quince, Xifu crabapple, and other flowering trees actually bloomed in autumn, lush and fragrant, as richly colorful as in spring. All saw them with their own eyes and wrote poems that were gathered into an album. Patriarch Lü once bestowed a poem for the “Double-Ninth peach blossoms,” and various gentlemen composed verses in response. This occurred in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth years of the Jiaqing reign (1811–1813).

The crabapples and other flowering trees of Mount Jingai likewise opened in autumn, lush and fragrant, as richly colorful as spring. All saw them with their own eyes and wrote poems that were gathered into an album. Patriarch Lü once bestowed a poem for the “Double-Ninth peach blossoms,” and various gentlemen composed verses in response. This likewise occurred in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth years of Jiaqing. The flowering trees of Mount Jingai were especially abundant; they stood everywhere along the foot of the mountain, opening in clustered masses, and gradually became a familiar sight.

Over these ten years, the mulberry trees in the Wushenmen area have gone on bearing fruit even in the season of Little Spring (xiaochun, around the tenth month of the lunar calendar), and the fruit has been full and plump. This has already continued for seven years.

At the river landing of Mount Jingai there was an old man from Jiaxing surnamed Tong, named Hongyi. His body was frail, and his legs and feet were infirm. A deity had once reckoned his allotted span of life and said that he would die in the twelfth lunar month of that year; he was already seventy at the time. At the river landing he ate the winter mulberries that had set on the trees, a full handful, and his body soon grew strong. After he entered the mountain, on a round trip of about seven li, his body was as light as if he were flying. Later he went back and gathered several dou of mulberries. Those of a pure purple he used to make pills and to steep in wine, which he himself took often; those of somewhat lesser quality he added to the prescriptions of the medicines he dispensed, and the cures were often remarkably swift. Year after year he came at the proper season to gather mulberries, and he saved many patients who were critically ill.

His friend Mo Dacheng had a blood tumor on the crown of his head, large as a fist, its skin soft and thin like a fully ripened persimmon. Old Tong had him drink a cup of mulberry wine. A short while after the wine entered his mouth, the itching became unbearable, and the blood tumor at once flattened and subsided, as if it had vanished. Mo Dacheng and Old Tong then made a vow together, raised funds, and paved more than twelve hundred paces of stone road along the way into the mountain. They also built two stone bridges and a roadside pavilion. The pavilion was named “Zhi” (“Stop”), and Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) inscribed its plaque when he descended to the altar. In the Song, Mei Zichun had once stayed here, and Zhao Mengfu (courtesy name Zi’ang, literary name Songxue) had entitled the pavilion “Hezhi” (“Where the Crane Stops”). Now that it was rebuilt, Patriarch Lü used the character “zhi” to point to the meaning of knowing where to stop, and so this name was adopted instead. Bao Kun, Prefect of Qiantang, composed a stele inscription for the occasion, recording in detail the good work of building the bridges and paving the road; Expositor-in-Waiting Liang Shanzhou also wrote out the characters of the inscription.

That spring, willows and red smartweed (hongliao) suddenly sprang up in a courtyard on the mountain. The willows have now grown into a shade of branches and leaves, and the red smartweed comes up every year as well. Willow leaves can treat malaria, and red smartweed can be used to make ferment for brewing wine; it is said to relieve distension and fullness of the middle burner (zhongjiao). To this day, the sick from the Jiaxing, Huzhou, and Hangzhou region come to gather them, calling the willows “spirit willows” and the red smartweed “immortal smartweed.”

Someone asked Patriarch Lü about these matters. Patriarch Lü said: “This is a phenomenon born of transformation by Qi (vital energy); such things have existed since ancient times. The Jingshan Gazetteer records the affair of Chan Master Guoyi. It is nothing to marvel at, yet it may also serve as an omen of the coming of the primal epoch (yuanyun). The opening of peach blossoms at the Double Ninth is recorded in the Xu wenxian yueling; it is the story of Lin Lingsu, the Shichen, at Guangling. I once inscribed a poem on this, and the poem followed the rhyme of the old Guangling poem. These autumn peaches of the present are not limited to the single meaning of welcoming the primal epoch. What is gratifying is that the autumn peaches bloom every year and flourish into a grove, much like the former scene at Guangling. You must exert yourselves.”

Patriarch Lü went on: “Do you know why Lin, the Shichen, was honored as the master of his age solely on the strength of the deeds recorded in the Lingqin milu? There were three reasons. First, he used the Great Dao (the Way) to establish his own reputation. Second, after he answered the summons, he displayed his magical arts one after another. Third, he instead cast aside the ‘True One’ (Zhenyi), wrongly supposing that cultivation still had to await its proper time. Had he at the outset not gone in answer to the summons, but secretly invited the True One and devoted himself to healing the people of the world, he could gradually have removed the treacherous and the deviant and brought peace to the realm—and how could such merit ever be fully reckoned? He did not know how to learn from the ancients. I once admonished and instructed him, yet he clung to the idea that ‘one must still wait’ and could never change, so that he was unable to ascend directly to the celestial realm. It is truly a pity.”

A note attached to the original text takes this as probably a criticism of the so-called idea of “awaiting a summons and then ascending” as unrealistic: after the Golden Liquid Elixir (jinye dan) has been refined, one should still accumulate merit and complete one’s cultivation by healing the people of the world, and should not at once abandon the physical body in pursuit of the ascent of the Yang spirit (Shen). What Perfected Min meant by “exhausting this recompense-body in healing the world” says the same thing.

The foregoing is said to have been imparted by Patriarch Lü on the winter solstice of the twenty-first year of the Jiaqing reign.

(“Yide” is the author’s own name for himself.) My learning and cultivation are still insufficient, yet I have been favored with the Ancestral Master’s approval. The efficacious responses that the Ancestral Master manifested in plants and trees were seen by everyone with their own eyes, so I have recorded this matter in order to encourage those of like mind and shared purpose. As for things that others do not know, I simply do what I myself ought to do, and do not intend to speak of them to outsiders.