《吕祖全书》Vol. 9

Within the Huangwu (the yellow chamber at the center in internal alchemy), it is as if something were placed inside a cage or cabinet. This is the kind of inner visualization one performs in the heart when the dragon (Yang) and the tiger (Yin) unite and give rise to the huangya (the “yellow sprout”—the first tender “medicine” born of the initial union of Yin and Yang).

Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) said: The pairing of Yin and Yang, making dragon and tiger join, and how to practice inner visualization—all of that is clear. But when it comes to advancing the fire to refine the elixir and refine the “medicine,” what sort of visualization should one hold?

Patriarch Zhong (Zhongli Quan) said: One should imagine the following—all of these are scenes in the mind during cultivation, not things that literally exist outside the body: a vessel, like both a ding and a fu, yellow or black in color, shaped like a wheel. On the left the Azure Dragon (Qinglong), on the right the White Tiger (Baihu); in front the Vermilion Bird (Zhuque), in the rear the Black Tortoise (Xuanwu)—the four directional spirits of east, west, south, and north. Beside them two ministers in purple robes stand bowing, holding jade tablets; then servants carry fuel and kindle a fire beneath the vessel; and a king in red robes comes riding a red horse through fire-clouds from the sky, raising a whip to command and shout, fearing the fire is too small and the flames too weak. The blaze is fierce, filling the sky and surging upward as if to break out; yet the “Heavenly Pass” (the inner gate where Qi rises) does not open, and smoke and flame fall back and swirl around on all sides. Figures, vessel, king, and ministers are all within the red flames, pointing and calling to one another, each urging the fire to burn hotter still. The water in the vessel does not send up steam, yet seems about to congeal; the pearl in the water is not bright, yet seems to shine through. This is the visualization for advancing the fire to refine the elixir and refine the “medicine.”

Patriarch Lü said: Is inner visualization only for gathering the “medicine” (collecting the inner elixir as it arises) and advancing the fire—or does each method and each step have its own visualization?

Zhong Zong (Zhongli Quan) said: Clouds and thunder descend, while mist and rosy clouds rise. Sometimes strange flowers fall from the sky, and auspicious winds and propitious qi rise from beneath the hall; sometimes immortal maidens and jade maidens ride multicolored phoenixes and auspicious luan birds from the blue heavens, presenting jade dew and rosy nectar in golden trays to the sovereign in the vision. This is the visualization of the Golden Liquid Elixir Returned already accomplished—when the golden liquid elixir is complete and water and fire have joined.

If you see dragon and tiger drawing a chariot in fire, surging upward to burst open the Three Passes (Weilü, Jiaji, and Yuzhen). At each pass, soldier-officials stand guard— their number beyond count— armed with weapons and armor, their forms fearsome. First the dragon and tiger charge, but cannot break through; then great fire burns until the passes open. The surge reaches Kunlun (the crown) without stopping, and only halts at Tianchi. Or three cranes soar into the Three Heavens, or paired butterflies enter the Three Palaces, or in five-colored clouds someone carries a child in red robes through the Celestial Gate, or a golden carriage and jade chariot bearing a sovereign transcends the Three Realms. This is the visualization of flying golden crystal from behind the elbow and turning the Great River Chariot (true qi ascending along the spine).

As for the envoy in vermilion robes touring in a carriage: from Jizhou to Yanzhou, Yanzhou to Qingzhou, Qingzhou to Xuzhou, Xuzhou to Yangzhou, Yangzhou to Jingzhou, Jingzhou to Liangzhou, Liangzhou to Yongzhou, then from Yongzhou back to Jizhou. After circling east, west, south, and north, one pauses in Yuzhou, then continues the circuit. What is gained is gold and jade; what was blocked becomes open. One officer conveys the command, and the Nine Provinces all harmonize. Thus it cycles without end. Or one travels the Five Sacred Mountains, starting from Mount Heng; or sails the Five Lakes, starting from the Northern Lake; or the Celestial Talisman orders the Five Emperors, or the king’s mandate announces to the Five Marquises. This is the visualization of returning the elixir. The text uses touring provinces and mountains as a metaphor for the inner circulation of medicinal substances and qi.

As for pearls and jade scattered on the ground, or rain and dew nourishing all things, or the sea tide filling a hundred rivers, or yang qi first stirring and all things awakening, or flames filling heaven and earth, or mist and dew filling the cosmos—this is the visualization of refining the body.

As for a crane leaving its nest, a dragon emerging from its cave, the Five Emperors paying court in heaven, five-colored clouds rising, riding a cinnabar phoenix into the azure heaven (biluo), or in a dream walking the celestial thoroughfare (tianqu), or heavenly flowers falling in profusion with immortal music clamorous and golden light swirling as one enters a splendid palace—these are all visualizations of congregation toward the Origin (chaoyuan), when the various qi return to the Origin and the spirit comes to pay homage.

After congregation toward the Origin, one no longer deliberately visualizes; only then is it called inner observation (neiguan).

Lü Dongbin asked: The inner meaning of neiguan (inner observation) differs from the methods discussed earlier—could you explain it to me?

Zhong Liquan said: This is the ancient practice of cunxiang (visualization with focused intent). Only after chaoyuan (the gathering of essence, qi, and spirit back to their source) does one cease cunxiang; that is what is called neiguan.

Lü Dongbin asked again: The inner meaning of neiguan is not the same as the previous methods—may I hear about it?

Zhong Liquan said: Most people who cultivate the Way in past and present times do not understand celestial mechanisms. From the start they do not practice according to the rules; eager to transcend, they often use taixi (breathing so slow and subtle it is as if in the womb)—more intake, less outflow—and neiguan with a stilled mind and closed eyes. The result is only that in samadhi they release the yin spirit and become a clear, refined ghost, not a pure-yang immortal.

True immortals and supreme sages have explained in detail, again and again, caiyao (gathering the medicine), jinhuo (advancing the fire), chouqian tian gong (drawing lead and adding mercury), huandan lianxing (returning the elixir and refining the form), and chaoyuan heqi (chaoyuan and merging qi)—the several stages of neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation—because they fear people will not understand. On neiguan they say comparatively little. Yet they do not realize that neiguan is precisely the method of yin-yang transformation, the moment when immortal and ordinary person are exchanged. Those who follow the Way must neither look down on it nor treat it as a minor technique.

The earlier practices have fixed times for union and fixed rules for cultivation. If one is careful, keeps faith, follows time and law without the slightest deviation, success can come within days. Neiguan has no fixed time and no fixed rule. One simply stays in an extremely quiet room, sits upright day and night, recognizes the yang spirit, and drives away yin ghosts. Bodhidharma faced the wall for nine years before he passed beyond the inner court; Shakyamuni (the Buddha) stilled his mind for six years before he left the cage of the ordinary. So neiguan is truly difficult.

At the beginning, from above to below, one moves the ziheche (the “Purple River Chariot”—the refined essence carried within in internal alchemy) into the heavenly palace. Who would not envy the wealth and honor of that palace? Coming and going, splendor and luxury—scenes the world never sees—all appear. Those who follow the Way usually keep to quiet freedom and have long been lonely; when their effort is sufficient, joy arises: towers and halls, pearls and jade, female musicians and reed pipes, rare foods and fine wine, strange flowers and exotic plants, scenery and light as bright as noon before their eyes.

If a person does not awaken, they think they have truly reached the heavenly palace, not knowing it is only their own inner court, yet they take it for a real realm. They linger and do not leave, trapped on a dark road; the body remains in the world and cannot shed ordinary substance to become an immortal.

Before one has reached the heavenly palace, one is only in the midst of neiguan. Yin ghosts and outer demons produce images according to the mind; from images realms arise and become demon armies. Cultivators then go wild and fall into heterodox paths, or lose themselves in outer ways, and in the end cannot become immortals. The three corpses (san shi) and the seven po souls wish for the person to die—that is their joy. The nine worms and the six thieves (the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind and their disturbances) find human peace painful; when a person is at peace, they have nowhere to stay.

Lü Dongbin said: Use inner observation (neiguan — inwardly gathering and contemplating the spirit) to consolidate the Yang Spirit (the pure yang spirit formed through cultivation), refine the spirit to transcend beyond the inner court (the dwelling place of the spirit within the body), then ascend upward through the Celestial Gate (the portal at the crown of the head through which the spirit exits), and directly rise to enter the ranks of sages and immortals (the grade of immortals and sages). Being able to exit and enter, coming and going without error; whether arriving or departing, near or far, one will not go astray. If one wishes to remain in the world, one makes the spirit unite with the form; if one wishes to ascend as an immortal, one travels afar to Penglai Island (the legendary realm of immortals). All of these begin with inner observation, and through this one achieves transcendence. Yet one does not know how to subdue yin ghosts and evil demons, so that those who follow the Dao may attain immortality?

Zhongli Quan said: Those who follow the Dao must first establish faith — affection, fame, profit, and all worldly troubles cannot alter their great aspiration; then they must kindle the will to endure hardship — toil, solitude, and all realms of emptiness and purity cannot change their original intent. They intend to achieve the Great Completion (the highest attainment in cultivation), yet often stop only at the Middle Completion; they intend to achieve the Middle Completion, yet often stop only at the Small Completion. How much more so for those who do not comprehend the Great Dao, who cannot fathom the celestial mechanism — what they learn is but minor methods, and they are overly fond of heterodox practices. Years pass in vain without seeing results; in old age they decline and re-enter the cycle of rebirth. Thus later generations of Dao seekers take longevity as empty talk and transcendence as hollow words. They often hear the Dao yet fail to awaken; when encountering circumstances they give rise to thoughts, and because of external things they lose their aspiration, ultimately unable to escape the Ten Demons and Nine Difficulties (the ten demonic obstacles and nine arduous trials in cultivation).

Lü Dongbin said: What are the so-called "Nine Difficulties"?

Master Zhong (Zhongli Quan, master of Lü Dongbin) said: Before the great medicine (the refined essence, qi, and spirit that coalesce into the inner elixir and can shed the mortal body) is fully forged, one cannot yet withstand cold and heat and must wear clothes through all four seasons; before true qi has arisen, one still feels hunger and thirst and must eat three meals a day. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer most from being driven by food and clothing—this is the first difficulty.

Furthermore, karmic debts from past lives may be heavy and are due to be repaid in this life; even if one steals a moment’s leisure in the floating world, one still fears the restraint of parents in the high hall and cannot bear to abandon honored kin, so one wants quiet cultivation yet rarely finds free time. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer from being blocked by elders and superiors—this is the second difficulty.

Furthermore, what one loves are one’s parents and what one cherishes are wife and children; affection is like shackles and passion like fetters, growing heavier day by day; the “fire courtyard” (the feverish household) and the “cart of worry” (the burden of sorrow) never rest. Even with a mind inclined toward purity, one cannot overcome a noisy, vexing environment. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer from being entangled by love and attachment—this is the third difficulty.

Furthermore, wealth may cover ten thousand households and rank may reach that of the Three Ducal ministers (the highest offices of antiquity), yet restless desire never pauses for a moment and greedy thoughts only fear they are not enough. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer from being bound by fame and profit—this is the fourth difficulty.

Furthermore, in youth one refuses to cultivate, and in old age one only laments one’s wasted life in vain; weakened by illness yet the stubborn heart still does not awaken; a thin fate invites disaster, and this life is already full of suffering. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer from calamities arising on every side—this is the fifth difficulty.

Furthermore, one hurries to seek a teacher yet does not distinguish true from false: some have clever words and glib tongues, others put on the look of ancient Daoist dignity; at first one thinks one has met immortal stream of the Way, but in time one learns they are merely people greedy for gain. Those who devote themselves to the Way suffer from being constrained by blind guides—this is the sixth difficulty.

As for blind teachers and arrogant fellow cultivators, they point wrongly to side paths (deviations from the orthodox Way), rummaging only among branches and leaves, and never align with the Great Dao. They pass on oral formulas to one another through petty methods and heterodox tricks, yet fail to understand: if sun and moon do not appear, so be it—but once they appear, they shine in full splendor, and all who have eyes can see; if thunder does not roll, so be it—but once it rolls, it startles everyone, and all who have ears can hear. With no more than the flicker of a torch flame (juohuo) and the outlook of a frog at the bottom of a well, dim and muttering, how can they merge with the Great Dao? What those who follow the Dao worry about is that opinions differ in every direction—this is the seventh difficulty.

Some people begin in the morning and change course by evening; while sitting they still practice, but the moment they stand up they forget. They love momentary pleasure and loathe long persistence; at first they can labor with diligence, later they slacken and grow lazy. What those who follow the Dao worry about is a slack and weary mind—this is the eighth difficulty.

Others waste years within a lifetime, months within a year, days within a month, and hours within a day—cultivation must follow year, month, and hour; once the moment is missed, the work comes to nothing. In youth they cannot put aside fame and gain; in old age grandchildren never leave their thoughts. The years are limited—do not say that because this year is gone you will wait for next year; human affairs have no end—do not say that because today is gone you will wait for tomorrow. Today you cannot even secure tomorrow; when old age comes, how can you recover youth again? What those who follow the Dao worry about is the wasting of years—this is the ninth difficulty. When all nine difficulties are cleared away, one may truly follow the Dao; if even one or two of the nine cling to you, effort is in vain and success is impossible.

Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) said: Now that the nine difficulties are understood, may I hear what is meant by the “ten demons”?

Patriarch Zhong (Zhongli Quan) said: The so-called “Ten Demons” appear in three grades: first, what is plainly seen before the eyes in the outer world; second, what appears in dreams; third, what arises during inward contemplation in stillness. When consciousness is clear and quiet in practice, such illusions easily disturb the mind; when you see them, you must not take them as real and must not cling to them.

Before your eyes may be flowers and fragrance everywhere; in your ears, the sound of sheng and huang pipes; the tongue craves sweetness, the nose delights in strange scents; feelings are at ease and spirit buoyant. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of the Six Thieves (the disturbances of the six senses: eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind).

You may also see jade towers and treasure halls, painted beams and carved rafters, pearl curtains and embroidered screens, orchid chambers and incense rooms, coral covering the ground and gold and jade filling the hall. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Wealth.

You may also see saddles of gold and fine horses, canopies raised high on chariots, enfeoffment as marquis with ten thousand households, envoys and banners of office, the whole house full of high officials and boots and tablets piled up. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Rank.

You may also see light mist rippling and warm days stretching long, or sudden storms and thunder and lightning, or loud music and wailing grief. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of the Six Emotions (what is shaped by joy, anger, sorrow, and the rest of emotional consciousness).

You may also see relatives in disaster, spouses and kin harmed, children ill, parents dead, brothers scattered, wives and concubines parted. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Attachment.

You may also see yourself cast into a cauldron of fire or falling from a high cliff, harmed by vicious insects or poisoned, meeting on the road dangers you cannot withstand, so that by the usual course you would lose your life. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Adversity.

You may also see the radiance of the Ten Stages (supreme realms of attainment) filling the sky, the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) and the Jade Emperor appearing, the Four Deities, the Seven Luminaries (sun, moon, and the five planets), the Five Sacred Mountains, the Eight Kings, and other divinities in solemn array, coming and going in flight. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Sages and Worthies.

You may also see armies and horses dense as clouds, blades cold and bright as frost, spears and halberds raised together, bows and arrows drawn, rushing to kill with fierce force hard to resist. If you see this and do not acknowledge it, it is the Demon of Weapons and War.

The eighteenth section is titled “Examining Verification,” and it discusses scrutinizing the signs and confirmations that arise in cultivation, then advancing step by step according to those stages.

When a figure like an immortal maiden (xian’e) appears, that is the demon of sages and worthies (shengxian mo)—a obstructive force that borrows the appearance of sages and perfected immortals to disturb the mind. Or armies may seem to gather like clouds, blades gleaming white as frost, spears and halberds raised with a clamor, bows drawn together as if rushing to kill—swift and fierce, hard to withstand. Even if you see this, you must not take it as real; that is the demon of weapons and battle (daobing mo). Or immortal maidens and jade maidens (yü nü, attendant spirits of the immortals) may line up in rows, pipes and reeds sounding brightly, all performing the Rainbow Skirt dance, paired red sleeves competing to offer golden goblets. Seeing this, you still must not take it as real; that is the demon of female music and dance (nüyue mo). Or many beautiful women may appear, lovely in form and heavily adorned, feasting at night on ornate towers, jade-like bodies in light silks, vying with entangling pride to become pairs. Again, do not take it as real; that is the demon of feminine beauty and desire (nüse mo). These ten kinds of demons may all appear; the right response is not to acknowledge them. Once you acknowledge, you stick; once you stick, you become attached—and failure to attain the Dao often comes from exactly this.

For those who devote themselves to the Way, when such scenes appear outside the body in the present moment, if you neither acknowledge nor grasp, the mind will not retreat and resolve will not change. In dreams, if you neither acknowledge nor cling, the spirit (shen) will not be confused and the soul (hun) will not scatter. When you see such things during inner contemplation (neiguan), you should examine whether they are empty or substantial and distinguish true from false; you must not drift with the waves and mistake the thief for your own child. Then raise the samadhi true fire (sanmei zhenhuo)—the refining fire in deep concentration that burns away yin and demonic influences—burning through the body; in one sweep the host of demons disperses on their own. Next use the Purple River Chariot (Ziheche), the image of circulating essence and bearing the yang spirit, to carry your own yang spirit (yangshen) upward past the inner court and ascend to the heavenly palace; only then can you seek liberation.

Through the ages, people who loved the Way have had minds inclined to purity, yet when outer states appeared their resolve changed; many could not escape the ten demons and nine hardships (shi mo jiu nan) and kept only the empty reputation of loving the Way, never seeing the real trace of attainment. Some left worldly toil, hid away and cut off their tracks, with their aspiration set on the Mysterious Gate (xuanmen, the door of cultivation)—yet if they could not remove all nine hardships and one or two of the ten demons remained, that does not mean they had no attainment at all; they might reach a middle or lesser level on the path, or among immortals become a human immortal (renxian, still among humans) or an earth immortal (dixian, dwelling on earth). If one can remove every demon and hardship and rise section by section according to the order of verification, unite inner contemplation with the yang spirit, then before long one may turn toward the Three Isles (San Dao, the legendary isles of immortals).

Lü Zu (Lü Dongbin) said: Ordinary people loathe disease, while those who cultivate the Dao seek freedom from illness and lasting peace; ordinary people fear death, while Dao cultivators hope not to die and to attain long life. Ordinary people live amid the dust of the world, while those on the Dao wish to rise as immortals and roam beyond the ten thousand things; ordinary people stand on the earth, while Dao cultivators wish to complete the elixir path and enter the grotto-heavens (dwelling places of immortals). Therefore they willingly endure hardship and remain content in poverty, letting the spirit wander in clarity and ease, hiding themselves in wild and remote places, practicing continuously—yet they do not know how deep or shallow their gongfu is, how the method should turn and change, or when transformation will come. After one begins earnest practice, in what order do verifications appear?

Zhong Zu (Zhongli Quan) said: If one resolves to cultivate bitterly and still sees no result to the end, it is not that the Dao has failed the person, but that the practitioner has not followed a clear teacher and has not received the true teaching. If one practices according to the method and still sees no result to the end, again it is not that the Dao has failed the person, but that the practitioner does not know the shihou (the hours and “fire times” of practice), and therefore cannot succeed. If one meets a clear teacher, obtains the true teaching, and applies the great method at the proper times, why worry that there will be no verifications?

Lü Zu said: As for the “method”—does it have a fixed number of parts? As for the “time”—does it have a fixed number of parts?

Zhong Zu said: The “method” has twelve categories; the first category is matching Yin and Yang (bringing the two qi of yin and yang into proper union). As for the “method”—does it have a fixed number of parts? As for the “time”—does it have a fixed number of parts?

Patriarch Zhong (Zhongli Quan) said: The “methods” of cultivation comprise twelve categories: (1) matching Yin and Yang; (2) gathering and dispersing Water and Fire; (3) coupling Dragon and Tiger (causing the Yin and Yang qi symbolized by dragon and tiger to unite); (4) refining the elixir medicine; (5) flying golden essence from behind the elbow (raising refined essence along the back of the spine); (6) returning the jade fluid to the elixir; (7) refining the form with jade fluid; (8) returning the golden fluid to the elixir; (9) refining the form with golden fluid; (10) facing the origin to refine Qi (Qi here means innate true qi, directed toward one’s root nature); (11) inner observation and exchange; (12) transcendence and separation of form.

As for “timing”: within a year, one must follow the seasons when Heaven and Earth’s Yin and Yang rise and fall; within a month, one must follow the degrees of the sun and moon’s coming and going; within a day, there are the four cardinal hours, the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), the ten heavenly stems, and the twelve earthly branches, and the day is further divided into one hundred ke and six thousand fen—all distinguished according to fixed rules.

From the day cultivation begins, signs of verification appear in order, until one sheds the ordinary body and ascends to immortality, without the slightest error. At first, licentious and evil thoughts cease entirely, and outward virtue is cultivated as well. Each time one “gathers the medicine” (timely uptake of inner refined essence), golden essence fills the body, the dust of the heart-world clears of itself, and yin ghosts are subdued. Next, qi from the heart channel wells upward and sweet saliva forms in the mouth. Next, Yin and Yang strike against each other, and one often hears wind and thunder in the belly. Next, hun and po are unsettled, and dreams bring much fear. Next, the six fu organs and the four limbs may show minor illness that heals without treatment. Next, the Dantian (the lower-abdominal elixir field) warms of itself and the face grows clear and refined. Next, in a dark room the eyes show spirit-light. Next, in dreams one is bold; things cannot harm one and people cannot deceive one; sometimes it is as if one returns holding an infant. Next, the golden pass and jade lock seal tight, and nocturnal emission stops. Next, a clap of thunder sounds, the joints connect through, and startled sweat covers the body. Next, jade fluid is cooked, rinsed, and swallowed, congealing into a creamy paste (the original note: “su” is pronounced like “su”). Next, spirit fluid becomes paste; one gradually loses taste for fishy and rank food and uses it to fill the mouth and belly. Next, the ordinary bones grow light and turn into a spirit chamber; going out, one can catch a galloping horse and move as if flying. Next, facing situations one raises no thoughts, and craving and desire are cut off. Next, true qi can penetrate outer things and be used to treat others’ illnesses. Next, inner observation is bright and clear, no longer dim.

Next, the pupils of both eyes grow black and bright as lacquer; wrinkles on the face smooth out again, dark hair grows anew, and even the aged can long preserve a childlike countenance. Next, true Qi gradually fills the body: one often feels satisfied, eats little, and no amount of wine can truly intoxicate. Next, the body becomes lustrous and the spirit radiant; the sacred elixir yields flavor and numinous fluid exudes fragrance—a wondrous true scent constantly at the mouth and nose, which others may sometimes detect as well. Next, the eyes can discern the finest detail at a hundred paces. Next, old scars and lingering blemishes vanish of themselves, and nasal discharge, tears, saliva, and sweat cease. Next, when the sacred embryo is complete and true Qi is full, one may cut off food entirely. Next, the inner mind grows lofty and merges with the Great Void; mundane attachment and dusty mental states fall away naturally; the nine worms below are eliminated and the three corpses above perish. Next, hun and po no longer wander outward, so there are neither dreams nor sleep; the spirit stays clear, and day and night no longer divide. Next, yang essence congeals into the body, the spirit palace grows firm, and the limbs fear neither cold nor heat. Next, life and death cannot intrude; through zuowang (sitting in forgetfulness) and neiguan (inner observation), the spirit roams the immortal realm of Huaxu, with its towers of female music and splendor scarcely belonging to the human world. Next, when merit and practice are complete and hidden merit receives its recompense, one is secretly granted the true registers of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), able to shift with yin and yang, foreknow affairs, and see calamity and blessing beforehand. Next, when the eyes are full of worldly trifles and one wearies of human contact, one purifies the body and dwells in stillness; the embryonic immortal may appear, achieving a body outside the body—this is sagely transcendence. Next, true Qi becomes pure yang, and the breath of “xu” and “he” can act upon external mercury. Next, the embryonic immortal constantly yearns to soar, and auspicious light arises in the bedchamber. Next, in deep silence one sometimes hears music. Next, when face to face with ordinary people—even the wealthy and noble—one may smell a rank, foul odor, for they remain mortal bone and vulgar flesh.

Next, one’s spirit radiance can transform of its own accord; countenance and bearing refine into an immortal’s form, like a jade tree, with wondrous fragrance emanating and a golden hue suffusing the body. After that, wherever one goes in movement or rest, deities often come of themselves to appear and pay homage, available to be dispatched and summoned entirely according to one’s will. After that, in still concentration one looks outward and sees purple clouds everywhere, with golden light enveloping the body. After that, suddenly a fire dragon rises within the body, or a dark crane (regarded in immortal lore as an auspicious divine bird) ascends—this is the spirit leaving the mortal frame and surpassing ordinary ranks, called “transcendence.” After transcendence, colored clouds swirl and auspicious qi scatters; miraculous flowers fall from heaven and dark cranes fly in pairs; strange fragrance spreads and jade maidens (celestial attendants) descend, bestowing heavenly scriptures and purple edicts (heavenly decrees). When this is complete, immortal crown, immortal robes, and the like are all in place; ceremonial standards and majesty ahead, behind, left, and right are beyond counting; they greet and guide one another, returning to Penglai (the legendary isle of immortals), paying audience at the Purple Court (immortal palace) to Taiwei the True Lord (a high immortal deity in Daoist ranks), where one’s native place and name are verified and merit and conduct are weighed and graded—then one dwells at ease on the Three Isles (immortal isles at sea). This is called attaining the rank of True Person and immortal.

Patriarch Lü said: Today I have been especially favored with my venerable teacher’s exposition of the great principle of Xiyi (“seeing the obscure, hearing the unheard”—the subtle, unfathomable Dao) and the hidden workings of Heaven and Earth. What I have gained is not merely clear ears and eyes and a refined spirit. This failing body now has something to rely upon; in the end it will not share the fate of dung and rotting soil. Yet those who know may not practice, and those who practice may not attain. Reflecting that birth and death are the great matter and that time passes swiftly: though one has understood the subtle principle, if one has not yet carried it out in practice, success will never come—in no way different from not knowing at all. I venture to ask for instruction: at the moment of convergence (the critical pass in internal alchemy where yin and yang qi meet), how should one begin in the method of practice, and how should one apply effort?

Patriarch Zhong (Zhong Liquan, master of Lu Dongbin) said: I have a work called Lingbao Bifa (Complete Methods of the Numinous Treasure), in ten scrolls and twelve sections, containing six main themes: first, the Golden Announcements; second, the Jade Writings; third, True Origin; fourth, Parables; fifth, True Secrets; sixth, Essentials of the Dao. The whole book embraces the Great Dao, using the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing, the three supreme deities of Daoism) as guiding images; taking the rise and fall of yin and yang in heaven and earth as the model for practice, and the ebb and flow of the sun and moon’s essence as the rule. This is precisely the aim of the Five Grades of immortals (the five levels of cultivation) and the prescribed path of the Three Accomplishments (from small, to middle, to great completion). On an auspicious day it should be transmitted to you.

Commentary on “Knocking the Yao” and “Qinyuanchun” (Scroll 31). Preface to the commentaries on “Knocking the Yao” and “Qinyuanchun” in Complete Works of Patriarch Lu; below that is the preface to the commentary on “Knocking the Yao,” followed by the commentaries on “Knocking the Yao” and “Qinyuanchun.”

The way of Patriarch Lu (Lu Dongbin) is xingming shuangxiu (dual cultivation of nature and life—of mind-nature and bodily life, essence and qi together). The poems he wrote all expound this aim. Among them, “Knocking the Yao” and “Qinyuanchun” especially sum up the teaching in a brief, clear, concise, and complete way. They speak more of ming (life, the body and its energies) and less of xing (nature, mind-nature), so later generations mostly followed that emphasis, and people call it the Southern School.

The idea of “life first, nature after” raises the question of whether “nourishing nature” and “extending life” are ultimately one matter or two. If nature is truly penetrated, life will naturally be penetrated as well; if nature is not yet penetrated, from what place would one penetrate life? At the end of “Knocking the Yao” the reader is already directed toward dual cultivation of nature and life, and at the opening of “Qinyuanchun” “lianji daishi” (cultivating the self while awaiting the proper time for practice) is revealed—so the intent should be clear.

Among commentaries on the Qiao Yao Ge (Knocking on the Frame Song), some treat ming (the refinement of essence, qi, and the life principle) in detail and xing (the refinement of mind-nature) more briefly; commentaries on the Qin Yuan Chun piece have been read by some as aimed at completing xing and by others at completing ming—each sees what their insight favors. In truth both texts from the outset embrace xing and ming together; one need not exalt one work and demean the other, nor take only one side and discard the other.

Searching through the collected Daoist canon, one lineage produced a commentary on the Qiao Yao Ge, and two lineages produced commentaries on the Qin Yuan Chun; these were therefore compiled into one fascicle.

Wuwozi Liu Tishu of Yiling (the region of present-day Changde, Hunan) assembled the material; his son Liu Yincheng (style Qinghui) and nephew Liu Yuncheng (style Qingxu) collated it; Yihangzi Huang Chengshu of Shaxiang (the region of present-day Wuhan) revised and checked it.

This is the preface to the Commentary on the Qiao Yao Ge.

What is meant by “striking the hexagram lines” is the great Way of the union and convergence of Yin and Yang. The Dao originally has no name; the patriarch Laozi reluctantly called it “Dao.” The Dao spoken of here is the path of the Golden Fluid Returning to Elixir (Jinye Huandan)—in internal alchemy, refining essence and qi into a golden fluid and returning it to form the elixir.

Human beings are born endowed with the refined essence and blood of Heaven and Earth. In infancy, primordial essence (Jing), primordial qi (Qi), and primordial spirit (Shen) are fused in one, pure and complete. After one grows up, the four gates of eyes, ears, nose, and tongue lead one astray, and that bit of luminous true nature is deeply stained by form, sound, fragrance, taste, touch, and mental objects. Day after day, year after year, primordial essence becomes seminal essence exchanged in ordinary relations, primordial qi becomes the breath of respiration, and primordial spirit becomes the spirit of discursive thought. Primordial qi is constantly drained away, and it is hard to recover the innate, untainted truth.

Patriarchs of successive generations, moved by compassion, left teachings and established methods, writing them into alchemical scriptures to show later people how to repair the damage: when essence is depleted, replenish with essence; when qi is depleted, replenish with qi; when spirit is depleted, replenish with spirit. When a person declines, restore from the person’s own body—just as when a tree weakens, one nourishes it with soil. Thus by methods of repair one returns to the root and restores the original, recovering one’s own nature and life.

What is meant by “return” (fu) is that essence does not leak outward: when essence is complete, that is deep rooting; when qi is complete, that is a firm stem; when spirit is complete, that is wondrous union. If one can preserve these three, they are the medicine one may rely on throughout life.

Many people in the world today do not understand the Dao, and those who truly know it are few. Even when someone has grasped a little, they often cannot see it through; yet they inflate themselves, cling to their own skills, talk loftily, and set themselves up as teachers. Such people are in fact ruining themselves. That is why the Wuzhen Pian (a major Neidan classic by Zhang Boduan of the Northern Song) says: even if you recognize “cinnabar” and “black lead” (two symbolic stand-ins for ingredients in internal alchemy), if you do not understand huohou—the rhythm and measure of “ firing ” in cultivation—you gain nothing useful. Achievement depends mostly on the work of practice; the slightest slip, and the elixir cannot be refined. It also says: covenant texts, treatises, classics, and verse may speak the utmost truth, yet they do not put huohou into words. To learn the oral lines that reach profound mystery, you must discuss them carefully with an immortal—a master who has already attained the Way. Again it says: the ten thousand things are diverse, yet each returns to its root; only by returning to the root and recovering one’s original destiny can one endure. People find it hard to grasp the constant Dao and turn back to the source, while stories of rash action bringing disaster are heard all the time.

Therefore the patriarchs have urged earnestly, advising later students: do not let the mind grow wild or the courage act recklessly; do not waste your days. When breath fails to connect, regret comes too late. Better to turn back early and seek the oral instructions of a clear teacher. Dispel doubt in the heart, take up the matter of practice at once. The foundation must be laid firm; then, having obtained the “medicine” and the “elixir,” follow the Neidan teaching and nourish it for ten months with gentle warmth—as if gestating—until you shed the shell and the spirit is transformed. In these ten kinds of elixir work, none may be omitted if completion is to be reached.

What has been said above is only a broad outline; I earnestly urge clear-minded people to stay alert. I have seen Patriarch Lü Chunyang (Lü Dongbin)’s Knocking the Yao Lines Song—a verse teaching on the Golden Elixir through the changes of the hexagram lines—whose meaning is profound yet whose wording is plain and apt. The great Way of the Golden Elixir, the three-tier methods of cultivation (from shallow to deep), and the ten kinds of “returning the elixir” are all gathered in it. I read it again and again and never tire of marveling at it. Though I have not yet attained the Way myself, I will not hoard this heaven-sent treasure; therefore, following the Patriarch’s orally transmitted Golden Elixir formulas, I have annotated each section of Knocking the Yao Lines Song, clarifying the root and crown, beginning and end of practice. The text is plain and the notes brief, yet the principle is not marred. This is not written only for the highly gifted; it is also for later students to read. The preface stands at the head of the volume, so that readers may be careful and vigilant.

In the eighth year of the Zhengtong reign (1443 CE), year guihai, on the Upper Yuan day (the fifteenth of the first month). Preface by the flawless master Qian Daohua of Yufeng, Gusu (the Kunshan area near Suzhou today).

Annotations on Knocking the Yao Lines Song, by the flawless master Qian Daohua of Yufeng, Gusu.

“Guest of tumbleweed, Han ended and Tang’s realm”: Han has fallen; one lives in the time of Tang, drifting like wind-blown couch grass—this is the author describing his unsettled wanderings. “Therefore knocking the yao cannot be fathomed”: thus the transformations sought through “knocking the yao” cannot be measured by ordinary judgment. “Vertically and horizontally, against and with the flow—nothing blocks the way”: up and down, across the lines, moving against or with the current—there is no barrier. “In stillness, non-action; in movement, form”: in quiescence there is wuwei (non-action); once there is movement, it becomes the “form” of the visible and tangible. What cultivation must discern is precisely this stillness and movement.

The master’s surname was Lü, given name Yan, courtesy name Dongbin, Daoist name Chunyangzi. His ancestors lived in Zhaoxian Village, Yongle Town, Pucheng County, Henan Prefecture in the Western Capital—what is now Pucheng County in Puzhou. He was born on the fourteenth day of the fourth month in the fourteenth year of the Tianbao reign of the Tang dynasty, in the si hour (nine to eleven in the morning). He reached twenty without marrying, later passed the jinshi examination, and then met the Orthodox Yang Celestial Lord Zhongli (Zhongli Quan), from whom he received the Great Dao. After completing his cultivation, he composed this Knocking the Lines Song, presenting himself as a wanderer adrift from the end of the Han through the Tang.

“Knocking” means to knock and polish: if words and conduct are not upright, they can be struck and corrected. “Lines” (yao) are the lines of the hexagrams—the principle of yin-yang refinement, and of the pivotal turn between movement and stillness in their mutual exchange. Ordinary people are dull and confused and hard to fathom. “Vertical and horizontal, reverse and direct” means whether one goes vertical or horizontal, cultivates in reverse or in the direct way—all lies in one’s own hands and one may be master of it. Reverse is the later method of the sevenfold return of the elixir (layer upon layer returning essence and qi to form the inner elixir); direct is the path of obtaining the medicine—the front-gathering method of the Dragon-Tiger Great Elixir (the great elixir refined with dragon and tiger as images for yin and yang). “Without obstruction or barrier” means that self-cultivation is already pure and ripe—neither bound nor negligent.

“Stillness is non-action” means that in entering samadhi, inner medicine and inner elixir depend entirely on concentrating the spirit and fixing intent: the myriad concerns do not cling, the mind alone guards the dantian (the locus where essence and qi are nurtured), the form like dead wood, the mind like cold ash, waiting only for the first stir of yang within the body—heart and kidney intersecting, yin and yang within like husband and wife, nature and feeling in harmony, as if dwelling in the great void. Hence: “A thousand sages seek his trace and do not see it; the whole body hides within the great void.” After leaving samadhi, heart and kidney each return to their places; one only feels two or three drops of clear spring in the heart falling into the huangting (the central palace where elixir qi gathers). The ancients said: “When yin and yang have finished their union, a single point falls into the huangting.”

“Movement is form/color” explains the principle of yin-yang reverse and direct: guard against danger, weigh advance and retreat, distinguish floating and sinking, know host and guest—neither side in error. In movement, no turmoil; in stillness, no withering emptiness. This is the foremost skill in elixir cultivation, so it is explained first.

Those who truly cultivate value not fasting of the mouth but fasting of the heart. Fasting of the mouth means abstaining from wine and meat; fasting of the heart means cutting off lust and desire. If one is already clear about nature and life, can sever lust, and does not break the precepts, what need is there to abstain from wine and meat? That is why the patriarch said, “One may also drink wine and eat meat.” Rouge and flowers are where lust dwells—how much more if one fixes oneself there? A person on the Way, even when beauty appears before the eyes, does not let the mind waver. Moreover, in cultivating the returning elixir—the inner alchemy that refines essence, qi, and spirit back to their source—there is naturally the joy of the “infant” and “maiden” (symbols of yin and yang in inner alchemy) uniting like husband and wife; why would one still crave the defilement of rouge and flowers? Therefore the holy master devoted himself wholly to inner refinement and forever cut off sensual dust; with a pure heart-substance, without desire amid desire and unstained by dust in the mundane world, he temporarily abided on ground free of defilement, destined to realize the body of the Dharma King.

“Practicing Chan while chanting rouge-and-powder lyrics”: Chan is the practice of stillness; rouge-and-powder lyrics are lewd words—the two do not naturally belong together, yet one practices Chan while chanting them. The scripture says: “A lotus born from fire is called rare; to practice Chan while still in desire is equally rare.” So the immortal master practiced Chan while chanting, forgetting all form and color; he also wanted people to know that if one’s resolve is firm and one’s footing steady, one may still “blend light and mix with the vulgar”—conceal one’s brilliance and move among the world. Cultivate in secret, turn the work silently, strictly guard the root of life, carefully keep the precepts without lapse—why must effort be spent only on abstaining from wine and meat?

The following verse means: form is medicine, wine is stipend; dwelling in wine and form without being bound—only because from flowers and wine one awakens to long life, drinking and wearing flowers make spirits and ghosts weep.

What is called medicine in the context of sexual desire (se) is that within “two-eight” and Dui (one of the Eight Trigrams, often standing in inner alchemy for a class of true gold-like substances) lies the treasure of true gold—the elixir of cultivation that is Hun and Po (yang spirit and yin spirit). Wine is like one’s allotted sustenance in life, fixed by prior karma, and can also help the Way flourish. The saying “drinking all day without drunkenness, wearing flowers in the hair without losing them” means dwelling amid wine and desire yet not being bound by them. The master said: I have now attained immortality, all by relying on flowers and wine to gain long life and clear vision—that is, using drinking and wearing flowers to refine the self and steady the heart-mind, without lapse, driving off the six thieves (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind), so that the Three Corpses (the spirits said in Daoism to lodge in the human body and hasten decline) naturally perish and cannot run wild; hence it is said that spirits and ghosts weep.

Do not break the precepts; do not commit sexual misconduct. Once the precepts are broken, the nature of true suchness (one’s authentic original nature) sinks at once. Once lust is indulged, the treasure of long life is ruined and lost. Only one who has power in the Way can truly attain it. Not breaking precepts and not committing lust is the same meaning as “hold fast to rouge and flowers, cut off lust” above. Worldly people are foolish: they do not know to cultivate themselves, yet they break precepts and indulge lust, like oil exhausted and the lamp out, marrow spent and the person dead—thus many harm the body and lose life. They only know precepts against killing and stealing, guarding against not killing or stealing outwardly, yet they do not see that within the body they steal away original yang true Qi (innate yang vital energy) and slay their own life—that is the real theft and the real killing—while they fail to guard against it, drowning in the river of desire, losing true nature, clinging to lust, and destroying the treasure of long life. How then could they become immortals? To know the method of cultivation, one must rely on an enlightened master’s oral formulas, refine the self and hold the heart-mind, obtain the medicine and the elixir—only then can one enjoy long life and clear vision with firm power in the Way. Hence: what can be obtained must be obtained by one who has power in the Way.

One who has power in the Way is the true carefree wanderer: wine is a good friend, flowers are companions; seeking the true person in the lanes of flowers and willows—the true person too is merely playing in those flower-strewn streets.

“One who possesses the power of Dao” (daoli ren) means a person of great virtue whose skill in refining the elixir (neidan) is complete—someone who has attained the Dao and gained real inner strength. “Wine is a fine companion” points to kindred forces on the Kun side (in the Book of Changes, Kun is earth and yin; “gaining companions in the southwest”), who can drink the immortal wine that needs no grain to ferment. “Flowers are companions” refers to the matching yin–yang pairings known as seven-six, two sevens, nine-twos, and nine-sixes, which can accompany one another. For this reason, an advanced practitioner may enter brothel quarters, taverns, and pleasure districts without hesitation and there perform the work of refining the self (lianji); hence the saying that the true person (Zhenren) may be found in the flower lanes—that the immortal moves freely in such places.

After a student of the Way receives the master’s oral instructions and begins to practice, when approaching the furnace they must fix the “weight in grains” with exact precision and allow no error, proceeding in the proper sequence: on the third day of the month the moon appears at geng; on the eighth it reaches ding; on the fifteenth it arrives at jia. In applying the work, one first uses the “male sword” to cut and take the flower’s stem, then the “female sword” to draw and partake of the wine of long life; one must also discern, at the full moon, whether the water source is clear or turbid, whether metal and water arrive in season, and whether the Zhenren holds the correct position—only then may one enter the Yellow Chamber and earthen cauldron (the furnace and elixir chamber of the alchemists). Amid ordinary sights and sounds, release the myriad entanglements; then enter wuwei (non-action), and the true Way will flourish of itself. Confused people in the world, hearing that the great elixir is cultivated with cauldron and vessel, ridicule and slander it and refuse to treat it as the Way. That is why the immortal master says: let the crowd laugh at what seems strange—immortal flowers and immortal wine are my immortal homeland; the student should reflect on this carefully.

Those who arrive in this homeland are not ordinary guests. The Crimson Girl and the Infant (the yin and yang substances of internal alchemy) give rise to joy; within the cavern one constantly gathers the flowers of the four seasons, and flower joins flower to form the medicine of long life. In this vision nothing is forced, and the Way naturally thrives.

Practitioners of the Way send the elixir they have gathered into the Central Palace—the Dantian at the center of the body. Reaching this genuine level, one is no longer an ordinary person but a seed that can become an immortal. In the Yellow Chamber, where the inner alchemy places the elixir embryo, the “infant boy” and “maiden girl” (images for yang qi and yin essence) unite and give rise to joy. After that, one must nurture the fire work for ten months, then add one month of overall refinement and one month of spirit emergence—so working through the four seasons in a year is what is meant by “constantly gathering the four seasons’ flowers in the cave.” Inner and outer firing must not slip out of step; only then can the embryo form and the spirit transform—this is what is called “layer upon layer of flowers ripen into the elixir of long life.”

The elixir of long life must be taken from the heart of the flower. The stamens open in layers—that is the splendor of spring in full bloom. Most people in the world do not understand the principle within the flower; this secret key is worth ten thousand in gold.

The immortal master, fearing that later students would not understand, repeated the instruction again and again: the elixir of long life must be gathered at the time of the upper crescent moon, taking the three treasures and placing them in the precious cauldron and jade furnace (the body in which the elixir is refined), forming jade pistils and golden blooms—hence the layered order bright as spring. Many in the world practice blindly without grasping the meaning in the flower, and find the Way hard to attain. If one has karmic affinity from past lives and meets a true master who opens the secret workings point by point, it is like a poor person finding treasure, the sick finding medicine, a prisoner granted amnesty, or the dead restored to life—better than ten thousand taels of gold. Ten thousand in gold can eventually be spent; but this genuine method has inexhaustible subtle use.

Give thanks to Heaven and Earth and feel gratitude toward the empty void: to meet an immortal master is like receiving the protection of one’s ancestors. The master draws near and whispers the profound teaching, raising one to the foremost peak of Penglai, the isle of immortals.

After attaining the Dao, Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin) gave thanks for the protection of yin-yang, heaven and earth, and the void. He met Patriarch Zhongyang (Zhongli Quan), served him as one would an ancestor, received whispered instruction and heart-to-heart transmission, and was granted the essentials of the golden liquid returning elixir (refining jing, qi, and shen into the returning elixir). Thus he was lifted to the First Peak of Penglai. This refers to the upper-syndesmos crucible (the alchemical vessel figured by the upper-syndesmos image in neidan), hence the name First Peak. Those who study the Dao should ponder this carefully.

The First Peak is a thing of the immortal tradition: it yields only golden flower (jinhua); from it arises huyang (a state in which breath and spirit-intent seem present yet absent). It is not fixed in writing but passed mouth to ear; one must also possess the spiritual root and have marrow and bones made firm.

The First Peak denotes the white tiger of the same kind in the Dui palace (the Dui trigram of the west; in neidan the white tiger stands for metal and lead). Within it only golden flower and jade pistil are produced, giving rise to huyang. The patriarch did not dare set this plainly on bamboo and silk; it must be transmitted by word and ear. To complete the Dao one still needs the spiritual root, firm marrow and bones, and the great medicine of the golden elixir—only then can accomplishment be achieved.

To firm the marrow and bones and nourish the spiritual root: petals of peach blossom reveal the spring warmth within the grotto. The seven-seven white tiger is cultivated in pairs; the eight-eight green dragon combines into one catty.

The first two lines mean that the dragon-tiger great elixir and the great medicine of the golden elixir can nourish one’s own spiritual root—the spiritual root is the green dragon. The third line means that in the fire-timing work of refining the self, one changes the crucible to cook and refine, like the spring breeze and jade liquid brought by peach petals in the grotto. “Seven-seven white tiger” refers to a crucible counted in two sevens, used to refine the great elixir. If a person obtains eight taels of true metal from the upper-syndesmos white tiger and half a catty of true mercury from the green dragon, then two-eight unite into one catty of great medicine. The eight-eight green dragon medicine can also assist the yin path (the yin side of the work).

The true father and true mother send the medicine into the yuan palace. The wood mother (green dragon, mercury) and the metal lord (white tiger, lead) are gentle by nature. In the twelve palaces (the twelve loci in the body corresponding to the celestial circuit), the toad’s radiance (essence of the moon) appears; the earthly soul descends again and again to meet the heavenly soul.

“True Parents” refers to the great medicine of the Golden Elixir. Once you obtain this supreme treasure, you send it to your Yuan Palace—the place internal alchemy speaks of for storing and nurturing original qi. Wood Mother and Gold Father mean wood-mercury and gold-lead; the two by nature harmonize and combine. Guard the central palace’s earth cauldron (the vessel imaged by spleen-earth at the center). Through the twelve double-hours, advance the fire and retreat the talisman (alternating firing and cooling in the alchemical schedule)—like the toad of the moon (chanpo, the lunar soul) giving forth light. Steady the mind at every moment; keep the sun-soul and moon-soul subdued in the Dantian, like husband and wife meeting without parting for an instant—only then can the sacred embryo congeal and the Dao be fulfilled.

“Lead has just formed, mercury has just been born”: gathering the three kinds of true essence and the moon-soul at the time of the waxing half-moon, and sending them to the Dantian, is called lead just coming to completion; using it to restrain one’s own true mercury is like mercury just being born. One must further refine them in the jade furnace and golden cauldron until the two qi blend and mingle—like a man and woman in union, the same principle as heaven-and-earth yin-yang. The joined essences of male and female, when flowing downward, fall into the ordinary; when reversed, return to the sage—exactly matching the opening and closing of qian and kun. Miss not the firing times, and only then can the nucleus of the elixir form.

“Geng must live, jia must live”: geng-metal and jia-wood must both come alive; once jia and geng stir, the first trace of the Dao begins to sprout. When you draw out heaven’s root and earth’s marrow, “white snow” and “yellow sprout” (names in the elixir classics for refined substances) grow of themselves. Geng belongs to metal and images lead and the moon-soul; jia belongs to wood and images mercury and the sun-soul.

The saying “geng must give birth” means that the true Lead qi of the Western White Tiger and Metal (geng) can generate the Wood Mercury of the Eastern Azure Dragon. The saying “jia must give birth” means that the mercury-fire of Eastern Wood (jia) can generate the Metal-Water of the Western White Tiger. When jia and geng nourish each other, this is the dragon swallowing the tiger’s blood and the tiger absorbing the dragon’s essence: once the dual qi of dragon and tiger are set in motion, the sprout first begins to emerge, then grows day by day and renews itself daily. Gathering and extracting hinge on the timing shown by the rotation of the Dipper Handle (the turning of the Big Dipper’s handle). Tian Gen (Heaven’s Root) is this very thing within myself, taking the earth-marrow from within that other thing. If one can first gather in and then raise up, with no mistake in the fire-treating of ascent, descent, and nourishing warmth, white snow and yellow sprouts (signs of the elixir nearing completion) will naturally form and congeal in the Dantian (the field where the elixir is refined)—this is what is called a man carrying a fetus.

Lead also generates, and mercury also generates; generating mercury and generating lead must be refined in one place. What is refined here is not ordinary essence and fluid, but the true essence of Heaven and Earth, Qian and Kun, sun and moon.

“Lead also generates” means that the true Metal qi at the first quarter moon (when the waxing moon phase begins, figuratively the arising of true Metal qi) enters my Dantian and thereby generates true mercury. Lead and mercury nourish each other and are refined together in the earthen cauldron (the alchemical vessel). Then the bones and frame throughout the body are regulated, and the myriad spirits all obey. This refinement is not the passion of lustful coupling, but the sun-and-moon true essence that arises naturally from Heaven-and-Earth and Qian and Kun—a treasure that has qi but no coarse form.

The Yellow Dame (the mediating matchmaker) pairs them so both sides may unite in completeness; the moment must not slip, and instruction must pass mouth to mouth. The Bagua (Eight Trigrams) and the Three Origins depend entirely on mercury; the Five Phases and the Four Images likewise cannot do without lead.

The Yellow Lady (Huangpo) is the true earth governed by Wu and Ji, the spirit of the spleen—in other words, the intention on both sides. When the two streams of qi can meet and agree, metal and wood, though originally separate, can in an instant pair up and reunite as one, congealing in a single place and no longer scattering. Gathering the elixir depends entirely on orally transmitted formulas from a true master; the finest points must never slip at any moment, or the work cannot succeed. Without the true instructions, one may instead bring great harm. The Eight Trigrams (Bagua) are Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen, Xun, Li, Kun, and Dui. The Three Yuan refer to the method of “three vehicles and three wonders.” The phrase “entirely relying on mercury” means that in the fire-timings of refining oneself (lienji), one must use true mercury and must not risk loss; everything rests on mercury’s firmness. The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are assigned as follows: east is wood, Jia, and the dragon; south is fire, Bing, and the vermilion bird; west is metal, Geng, and the tiger; north is water, Ren and the dark warrior; the center is intention, earth, and the Yellow Lady. These four images and five phases all reside in “self” and “other”; only through the qi of dragon and tiger and through Yin-Yang and water-fire can one seek the lead of the true one and accomplish the great work.

“Lead gives birth to mercury, mercury gives birth to lead” means using lead to govern mercury; when mercury and lead accord, one speaks of seizing the creative power of Qian and Kun, Yin and Yang, and of lead and mercury. Obscure and dim refers to the pair of yin and yang; from them arises trance-like vagueness—that is, true lead and true mercury, also called the soul of the sun and the soul of the moon. When vague and indistinct they form a clump, it is the two refining together, congealing so they cannot be pulled apart. This is the principle of mutual consumption and mastering the fire-timings; only then can the divine elixir in the central palace form into one ball.

The heart-nature must be empty and the intention single-pointed; do not let the heart-monkey (xinyuan) roam and cling at will. When the flower-dew first congeals, do not disturb it; lock it in the earthen crucible (tu fu) and neither reduce nor add to it.

“Xing must be empty” means the heart-mind should be vacant and still; “yi must be single-pointed” means releasing every entanglement, holding nothing at all, and steadfastly guarding the Central Yellow Chamber (the middle Dantian region in neidan). “Do not let the ape and horse climb at will” urges practitioners to lock the heart-ape and tether the will-horse (images for scattered, restless thought) and not let them run wild. “When the flower’s dew first forms, beware of touching it” means that once the elixir has entered the belly and true mercury is subdued, it is like dew just forming on a blossom—easy to gather and easy to scatter—and must not be disturbed. Those who cultivate must subdue the deluded mind, cut off stray thoughts, allow no lapse whatsoever, guard life and nature with care, embrace and hold the Dantian, and wait until the divine elixir congeals; hence “lock it in the earthen crucible—do not add or subtract at random”: keep the medicine sealed in the crucible and do not casually increase or decrease it.

“In the jade furnace, gentle fire glows” describes refining the form with jade fluid: using nurturing gentle fire at the proper season of the Earth-over-Heaven Tai hexagram and the “bathing” phase (when yin and yang meet and the fire should be mild). Practitioners keep single-minded guard through the twelve double-hours, settling intention in the Dantian. From zi to si (six double-hours) one “raises fire”; from wu to hai (six double-hours) one “withdraws the talisman.” Yin and yang unite, water above and fire below; on the yellow path yin and yang converge. Metal, water, and fire’s three natures become one household, gathered and held in the Original Palace without leakage—only then can one speak of “a man carrying a fetus,” “a husband with child”: this is a neidan metaphor for forming the inner embryo, not ordinary pregnancy.

“When qi moves, true fire refines” means that as genuine qi circulates, true fire must temper it; the mysterious pearl (the pearl formed in practice) must not leave the precious hall, and when increasing the fire one must guard against danger. At “hidden dragon” of the first nine, yang qi still lies hidden—one must not rashly advance fire to refine.

When true Qi circulates and must be refined with true fire, one should seal the breath and let the true Qi move within the body—this is the timing of fetal breathing (taixi), when breath is so fine it is like a fetus breathing naturally in the womb. Do not let the Mysterious Pearl, lead, or mercury (internal-alchemy terms for essence, spirit, and the “medicinal” substances) scatter and be lost, lest what has already coagulated leak away again. When the inner elixir enters the abdomen, it is like clouds and mist. True Qi turns through the whole body; within, true fire is used so that heart and kidney unite (xinjiao, the joining of water and fire)—this must not be left for a moment. The outer furnace’s firing and the “drawing and adding” (choutian, advancing or reducing according to the fire phases) must above all guard against danger and hidden harm; they must not be neglected, lest one bring injury upon oneself. One who sought the elixir for long life, if one strays at this stage, will instead shorten life—this cannot but be heeded. At this point what matters most is distinguishing inner and outer fire phases in their proper sequence: the hexagrams Zhun and Meng (in the Yijing, birth and nurturing—here marking the start of the fire phases) must not be mistaken. From the zi hour through the six hours to si, yang fire rises; from the wu hour through the six hours to hai, the yin talisman withdraws. Hence it is said, “At the beginning, the hidden dragon must not be refined”—that refers to the fire phase of warm nurturing.

When the practitioner of the Way has mastered the waxing and waning, advance and retreat of inner and outer fire phases without the slightest error, only then can one obtain the elixir measured by the blade-and-spatula (daogui), transform it into yellow sprouts, and form the elixir pearl. Within the reckoning of the Five Phases, Taiyi holds the true One Qi; with this seed as the elixir head, one then applies ten months of fire phases—one month of total refinement, one month of spirit emergence. Further, with the practice aligned to the twenty-four qi periods of the year, one augments the efficacy of the spirit medicine—hence “twenty-four qi, the pearl feast.”

When the measure of fire is full, the medicine is complete; then come the sounds of the dragon’s cry and the tiger’s roar (dragon and tiger stand for the meeting of yin and yang). Of the three leads, only one lead is achieved; the golden fruit and immortal bud have not yet taken visible form.

When both the inner and outer firing in elixir cultivation have reached their full measure, the divine elixir can form. At that point Yin and Yang within the body unite like husband and wife, and the signs of “dragon chant” and “tiger roar” appear naturally. One takes the three grades of great medicine as the seed of the elixir; what truly nourishes one is only that bit of true lead—like tasting golden fruit or the immortal peach. When it transforms and shows form, powers beyond ordinary reckoning arise. If the warming fire is kept without error, the infant appears (the sacred embryo and Yang spirit in alchemical language). For a man to “give birth to a child” is no ordinary event.

Then one sets the furnace anew and raises the cauldron again—the furnace and cauldron stand for the body and mind used in practice—crossing the tiger and riding the dragon, leaving the ordinary realm. As the sun’s essence first appears, the moon’s radiance soon congeals; the “two-eight” numbers meet where Ren (water) and Bing (fire) join.

Those with deep roots and ample strength, once the great elixir is complete, move the elixir to the upper dantian, establish a subtle furnace again, let dragon and tiger unite, essence congeal, and reorder the two “strings” of qi (the two streams of Yin-Yang essence), so that Ren water and Bing fire intersect. When water and fire are in balance (shuǐhuǒ jìjì), the wonder of the elixir shows once more. The elixir classic Four Hundred Characters says: “Each year one bears a child, and every one rides a crane.”

When dragon-mercury congeals and tiger-lead is fulfilled, only a short stretch remains before the immortal isles. Kun lead and Qian mercury are the root of the golden elixir; dragon-lead and tiger-mercury are the most efficacious signs. Here lead, mercury, dragon, and tiger are all alchemical names for cultivated essence and “medicine,” not metals of the everyday world.

At the start, golden-liquid returning elixir must take dragon-mercury and tiger-lead as the root of forming the pill; nurturing the fire also uses dragon-lead and tiger-mercury. This is the rule of gathering first and then raising— the most crucial and reliable firing. Students of the Way should seek a true teacher and not waste a lifetime.

The Cantong qi says: Metal’s number is fifteen, and water’s number is also fifteen. At the furnace one must fix the ounces and grains; water at five parts still leaves a little surplus. Take these two as true; the weight of metal stays as at first, and nothing else is added; fire is paired by twos. The three substances mutually contain one another, and change is wondrous as spirit. These weights and measures are symbolic numbers in the elixir classics.

Understand this, and the Way can be achieved. It is like thirty thousand divine dragons guarding crystal (the elixir chamber where the original spirit dwells): one must keep to the hour and calculate the day; fire is still paired by twos, the three substances contain one another, and only then is change as wondrous as spirit.

Only by penetrating this principle can the Dao be cultivated to completion. Thirty thousand divine dragons guard the crystal—one must keep to the correct hours and fix the date, understand the timing of the firing process, and concentrate entirely on sincere heart-intent.

A great cultivator who can comprehend the principle of the Golden Elixir Great Returning Elixir and the method of “the immortal begetting the immortal” can fully realize this Dao. One must re-establish the alchemical vessel (Dantian), using gold as a protective embankment; hence it is said, “Thirty thousand divine dragons protect the crystal.” One must also observe the moments clearly, focus on waiting, and understand how fifteen taels of gold generate how much water. The fourteenth chapter of the Cantong qi (Classic of the Unity of the Three) explains this very clearly, thereby revealing the detailed path of “drinking the knife and grain”—the elixir in a minute dose.

When the black lead is completely exhausted, only then can the pure true essence be gathered. After a moment of struggle, peace and stability can be established. Use the three carts to transport the pearl treasure back, sending it into the treasure storehouse, where it naturally becomes spiritual.

If one knows how much water these fifteen taels of gold can generate, one must grasp the true principle. Wait until the black lead has passed and the water source is extremely clear; within this, the true gold produces two parts water—only then is it truly usable. Gather it according to the law, and seal the bellows and key tightly. The struggle must be settled within peace and stability; furthermore, one must use the Three Grades of Great Elixir as the three carts to transport into the Middle Palace treasure. The myriad spirits obey orders; there is no need to forcefully seek the spirit—the spirit responds naturally.

The Celestial Gods protecting refers to my True Mercury seeking the True Lead; the Earth Spirits welcoming refers to the counterpart’s True Lead seeking my True Mercury. When both sides’ heart-intents merge, the essence of Qian and Kun, Sun and Moon, can be blended, and Yin and Yang unite. But one must detect when the counterpart’s tiger roars and the True Lead is about to arrive—immediately let the Green Dragon emerge from the cave, and use the Flying Spirit Sword to welcome it. The qi of the phoenix and qilin enters my earthen cauldron and golden city, and only then can the elixir form.

Cinnabar and mercury are matched and stabilized; a sheet of red clouds arrays within the Great Clarity. Spraying from the pool, golden light appears; mercury fire carries the vermilion into the Imperial Capital.

“Cinnabar pairing” means that within the human body one gathers and refines Jing (essence) into “mercury” (in internal alchemy, the medicinal substance produced from essence). When mercury is refined long enough it becomes firm and turns into cinnabar; it is then matched with true lead (the counterpart inner medicine paired with mercury) to form the elixir seed (the initial foundation of the formed elixir).

“Mercury at rest” means taking the mercury derived from the waning-moon phase (the yin side of the lunar cycle), balancing eight ounces to make a full pound of the great medicine. After that, the body’s transformation is like crimson clouds rising on all sides, arrayed in Supreme Clarity (Taiqing—the utterly pure upper void); meanwhile true lead from the furnace fire runs upward against the normal flow, carried to the Mud Ball Palace (upper Dantian at the crown), as if golden light envelops the whole body and shoots out along the pool; mercury-fire becomes descending flowing pearls entering the golden chamber and yellow room (the chest-and-abdomen region where the elixir is stored)—this is called entering the imperial capital.

“Dragon-tiger union” means: the other is the tiger, I am the dragon—making the qi of the upper and lower “moon chords” meet, water and fire interpenetrating, contending yet remaining full, from which creative transformation and spiritual efficacy arise; the sacred embryo’s spirit-qi flying, ascending, and descending all occur within the treasure vase in one’s own body (the inner vessel that holds the medicine and forms the elixir). In a short time the elixir seed forms; one “ascends” toward the Mud Ball Palace, Golden Gate (Jinque), and Purple Mansion (Zifu—inner palaces of clarity in the head); true qi is reborn and circulates through the whole body without obstruction. This is “within one double-hour the golden elixir is complete; one ascends to the Golden Gate as purple clouds arise.”

“When the immortal peach is ripe” means the inner golden elixir (Jindan) has matured and can be plucked and ingested; myriad transformations come to pay homage, and heaven and earth rejoice together. At this time one must keep purification through fasting and abstemious conduct, quietly await the first stir of yang, then advance the fire according to the principle of correspondence (the inner elixir aligned with heaven and earth, as explained in texts such as the Cantong qi), and circulate the full orbit (microcosmic circuit).

When the immortal peach ripens, it means the yin-yang counts represented by nine and six are complete, the conditions at the xuan guan (key inner-alchemy pass) are in place, and when metal has generated and the water is clear, the immortal peach is ripe. One should then begin earnest work in the shi shi (closed-room cultivation), gathering and placing it in the tu fu (earthen cauldron—the zhong gong as the furnace site). Myriad transformations come to pay homage; creation within the body joins naturally, like husband and wife in harmony.

If you seek this treasure, you must first establish the tan chang (cultivation altar), investigate things and preserve sincerity, and wait in fasting and purification. When yi yang (the first yang) is about to arise and “metal generates clear water,” seize that moment when the water source is utterly clear to begin—cultivate according to the principle of Cantong (the agreement of the three), and within one shi chen (two-hour period) the golden elixir can form; once obtained, it is permanently obtainable.

Can means probing the root of heaven-and-earth’s creation—the moment when two things, self and other, qian and gong (lead and mercury), mutually respond; tong means the function of like kinds completing one another—the effect of yin and yang joining in creation. Only when this is clear do you understand how refining the golden elixir works. Follow the Zhun and Meng hexagrams in ascent and descent; water and fire steam and refine; the hundred bones are regulated and the hundred passes open. Then nourish with inner and outer huo hou (fire phases); when the ten-month fetus is round and qi full, one speaks of a man bearing a child or a husband pregnant—this is no ordinary affair.

When neidan (internal alchemy) is complete, the spirit elixir is nurtured in the zhong gong tu fu (central palace earthen cauldron); when waidan (external alchemy) succeeds, one also obtains an external golden elixir. The two combine into one pellet of purple-gold, blazing red golden elixir. Further harmonize huo hou, match in union, and form the sheng tai (sacred embryo); the ying er (infant—the yuan shen, original spirit) appears, able to transform and soar, enduring as long as heaven and earth—then one may become a zhen ren (true person).

When the elixir settles in the abdomen, one is already no longer ordinary. With deep cultivation, as the elixir merges with body and mind within and without, one differs from common people. Practicing day after day and renewing oneself daily, the yin-heavy physical form gradually falls away and turns into a purely yang body; one then soars and transforms like an immortal and becomes a guest of the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing—the highest immortal realm in Daoism: Jade Pure, Upper Pure, and Great Pure). Once achievement is complete and the Way fully established, one’s renown can reach the azure heavens.

“Guest of the Three Pure Ones” refers to one who has perfected the golden elixir and whose Way is complete. After refining the great Golden Elixir of returned transformation—the great elixir that internal alchemy (Neidan) describes as condensed from essence (Jing), qi (Qi), and spirit (Shen)—one rides a jade carriage, mounts phoenixes and cranes, enters the vast emptiness of the upper heavens, and roams freely among the three realms. Such ease is the happiest and most sublime kind of freedom. Those who cultivate truth above the great void attain the Great Way in radiant completion, with nothing left in the mind to cling to.

“Nothing of a single thing” means that the person who has attained the Way has emptied all worldly ties, does not fix on outer conditions, and only manifests the eternal, true, and constant Way, clear and unmistakable. At this stage the true qi of the five viscera within the body each shows its own true color, and from the five directions the countenance of the true person appears. Then achievement and the Way are complete: the Infant appears—the pure yang spirit that internal alchemy speaks of—and there is a body outside the body. Immortal boys and girls come on colored clouds to welcome one and escort one to the three isles of Penglai, where in the Palace of Five Illuminations the authentic immortal patent is conferred; only then is one’s name entered in the register of immortals.

“Sravaka” refers to those who awaken by hearing the teaching from a master; “pratyekabuddha,” also called “solitary awakened one,” is one who realizes the Way by penetrating the twelve links of dependent origination (the twelve stages of birth and death in Buddhist teaching) on one’s own. The two together are called the “two vehicles.”

After attaining the Way, having received the true admonitions (zhengao), they transmit upward the practices they have daily performed. The Way of True Unity (Zhenyi) speaks of the subtle workings of “cooking lead and refining mercury”—the inner alchemy of refining the two essences symbolized as lead and mercury. When sravakas and pratyekabuddhas hear it, they vanish away; when outsiders and asuras hear of the method of dual cultivation of male and female, they shrink their necks in fright. That is why this teaching is hard for people to believe.

If a person truly cultivates the Dao, builds a solid foundation (zhuji), and obtains the medicine and the elixir, it is like reviving dry bones: the body is immediately made whole and one becomes a true immortal who does not die—then one believes that the three-inch ladder to heaven of which the sage spoke is something everyone has, right before the eyes, as flat as the palm of a hand. After attaining the Dao, the nine mysterious generations and seven lines of ancestors can all be liberated. Worldly wealth and glory are no more than morning dew—who would still envy them?

Seek out resolute martyrs and worthy talent, and together properly set up the furnace and cauldron (luding) to transform the ordinary mortal body. If one is stingy with money and unwilling to part with treasures, the myriad immortals will not come near.

In ancient times, immortal masters who cultivated the Way had to receive the secret oral formulas transmitted in person from a true teacher. The genuine method required financial resources and the dharma to support each other before success could be achieved. If one lacked means, one had to wander the four seas, seeking everywhere for upright, resolute persons of noble talent. Each side would weigh and entrust the other, becoming close friends, solemnly swearing an oath and reporting it to Heaven and Earth, jointly setting up the furnace and cauldron (the work of establishing furnace and cauldron in external alchemy; in Neidan it also means the foundation for refining and nurturing vital essence), refining the medicinal ingredients and the Golden Elixir, and achieving together. This was one party supplying wealth and the other supplying the method—giving of wealth and giving of dharma treated as equal. A person greedy for wealth, clinging to treasure, or miserly would find that even a perfected one or immortal (a sage who had attained the Way) would not come to join and trust them. Hence the saying: “Ten thousand immortal masters refuse to come.”

Those who cultivate truth do not speak recklessly. One false word brings punishment from Heaven; one cannot attain the Way amid the dusty sands of ten thousand kalpas, and blood will burst from the seven orifices and the eyes.

The immortal master’s compassion was deep. Fearing that people of the world would remain deluded and refuse to believe and practice, he swore a great vow and earnestly admonished later students: “I am one who cultivates truth, not the same as ordinary folk; I will not speak a single false word to deceive the world. If I speak one false word and mislead and harm later generations, I will suffer Heaven’s condemnation, fail to attain the Way in the dusty sands of ten thousand kalpas, contract grave illness, and have blood burst from all seven orifices and the eyes.” With such a vow the master’s intent to save others was how earnest! How could students of the Way not take heed!

The master called himself a child of poverty; his vow was bitterly sincere. He wished to lift and guide all ordinary people together onto the path of long life, to share the gathering of immortals at Penglai (the legendary isle of immortals in the eastern sea), and to become seeds of immortality. Those who did not believe would sink in the river of desire, drift in the sea of craving, turn endlessly in rebirth, and burn in the scenes of the mundane world and the pit of fire without end.

Life in the dusty world is brief; one ought to ponder this carefully. Within the cavern heavens—the grotto realms where immortals dwell—heaven and earth stretch wide and sun and moon endure for ages. Fix your resolve, join the assembly of immortals, and become one fit to sprout into immortality. If you do not believe and instead drown in the river of attachment or drift into the sea of desire, you will turn endlessly through the cycle of rebirth, fall among vulgar sights and into pits of fire, and know suffering that never ends.

The mortal realm is fleeting; think on this all the more. Inside the grotto cosmos, sun and moon run long. With steadfast intent, after two or three years of arduous cultivation, you may enjoy life through millions of kalpas without end.

Ordinary people of the world rarely obtain the true Dao. Those who live a full hundred years are almost none; those who reach seventy are already few—and in the end none escape death. Knowing that one's stay is short, they still resign themselves to waiting for death and refuse to turn toward the Dao. Yet if, in the deep of night, lying on your pillow, you reflect for yourself: the immortals and buddhas of antiquity were also human beings who cultivated—then take that truth upon yourself at once. Seek the secret oral instructions of an enlightened master and practice the immortal art that wards off death. Follow your teacher's guidance, vow to cultivate with effort, and below apply yourself to refining the Golden Elixir Grand Return Pill (Jinye Dahuandan). When merit is complete and the Dao fulfilled, you become an immortal; through hundreds of thousands of kalpas your life extends as boundlessly as heaven and earth.

Penetrate the sage Dao and make manifest true constancy—the great Way that does not change. Then neither tiger nor rhinoceros nor blade nor spear can harm you; neither flood nor fire nor dragon nor flood-dragon can injure your body. Then you may clap your hands and ascend to the celestial realm and laugh in full release.

Worldly affairs are impermanent. Only to seek an enlightened master's oral instructions, grasp the sage Dao, refine the body and cultivate the self, obtain the medicine and obtain the elixir, and then nurture them according to the fire phases—this is the path of true constancy. When you shed the shell, transform spiritually, soar freely, and become a True Person (Zhenren), then though tigers use their claws, rhinoceroses their horns, or robbers their swords, they cannot wound you; though the water, fire, and flood-dragons of the final kalpa rage, they cannot harm your form. Then you rise to the heavens, clap your hands, and laugh once more.

These practices are truly marvelous. Entrust them to others—yet who is willing to receive them? Fools cling to beauty and wealth until they die, and so the immortals are unwilling to shed their light upon them.

What the Immortal Master (Lü Dongbin) said about these methods of cultivating the great Way is truly still and wondrous. Alas, people in the world are dull: they only know how to mock and slander, and it is not worth speaking the Way to them. Even if you placed the method plainly in their hands, who would accept it? Among ten thousand people, perhaps not one is willing to study cultivation or can grasp the great Way. Most are foolish and benighted, clinging to wealth and sensual pleasure until death, unwilling to turn back and learn the Way—so immortals are unwilling to show favor and will not transmit the great Way of the Golden Elixir (the fundamental method of internal alchemy for becoming an immortal).

The true supreme Dao does not pick and choose people; it does not weigh rank or measure rich and poor. Even an emperor’s son or a prince’s descendant must strip away luxurious indulgence and wear down pride and sharp edges.

The Immortal Master said: would the most genuine great Dao be stingy and withhold transmission? Everyone has a share; everyone has affinity—there is no principle of teaching only a chosen few. Though it does not ask about high or low, rich or poor, one must bring a heart of utmost sincerity in seeking it. Like an imperial son or noble heir, however wealthy, if he wishes to learn the Way he must shut out the flashy habits of the world, cut off distracting thoughts, and seek with an empty mind and bitter resolve—only then may one speak the supreme Dao to him. If he is not such a person, transmission is never given lightly.

If one is stubbornly foolish, unwilling to receive teaching with humility, if anger is not cleared and arrogant bearing unchanged, if one is proud and unrestrained, one falls for a lifetime into the bitter sea of birth and death in the six realms of reincarnation (heaven, human, asura, animal, hungry ghost, hell). Once human form is lost, it may not be regained even across ten thousand kalpas. However rich one might be—surpassing Shi Chong (the Jin-dynasty figure famed for extravagance), with gold and jade piled like mountains—those are merely worldly treasures; they will be used up in the end and are not the treasure of long life. Immortals look on and only smile coldly, paying no heed.

Fame is not truly noble; the great Way is what is most noble. Though the renown of sages through the ages may shine on their descendants, those dignitaries with golden seals at the waist, jade ornaments on the body, riding fine horses—in a glance they are no more than dust flashing through a crack.

Worldly fame and profit—even reaching the highest official rank and enjoying a moment of glittering renown—do not count as true great nobility. Only the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir (the fundamental method of Daoist internal alchemy cultivation, aimed at transcending birth and death) is supremely honored and precious. It is passed from sages to disciples, and from disciples onward, transmitted forever in an unbroken line. As for the display of girding gold belts, wearing jade ornaments, and riding fine horses in the mundane world—all are illusory karmic conditions. Seen with the eye that penetrates the Great Dao, they flash by like dust motes in a sunbeam slipping through a crack in the wall.

“Dust in the gap” continues the image above. “Fire from stone” likens a person’s life and fate to sparks struck from flint: by nature they cannot last long. Yet ordinary people do not awaken. Day after day they bustle in worldly toil; from morning to night their karmic consciousness is dim and confused, the eight sufferings (birth, old age, sickness, death, and the rest) torment one another, with no end in sight. Therefore the Immortal Master (Patriarch Lü), in countless scriptures and treatises, exhorts people to cultivate. When the world’s karma is heavy, people refuse to turn back; scrambling for fame and gain like a cauldron at a boil, they willingly endure misery—walking the road toward death. “Who would set the mind on a long-range plan?” means who is willing to apply the heart to what lasts; “calling from bitter boiling cannot bring them back” means sunk in that seething hardship, no calling can recall them.

Racing like water boiling in a cauldron, one sinks forever. Losing the Great Dao and true nature has its root in karma. If someone clears the thorns from the heart’s field, the celestial mechanism may be explained to them. Worldly people cling to worldly ties, rush and toil like a boiling cauldron without rest; thus they lose the Dao, lose the true, and sink in the sea of karma. This is karmic retribution from past and present lives: the roots of offense run deep, and innate genuineness is hard to restore. Yet those who in former lives possessed the bone of immortality and share an affinity with the Dao may understand at once, remove the heart’s thorns, hold their resolve firm and their vow unshakable, strive until the Dao is achieved, and never turn back. Meeting such a person, one carefully transmits the celestial mechanism of creation and transformation and the subtle oral formulas, so that through cultivation they may attain the fruit of a celestial immortal and settle the great matter of birth and death.

Ming (Life-Destiny) must be transmitted by the master; Xing (Nature) must be penetrated through self-enlightenment. Transcending the mundane and entering sainthood depends entirely on your own practice. Few walk the path to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), while many crowd at the gate of rebirth as beasts.

The immortal master explains again with utmost seriousness: The foundation of Ming is no small matter. One must resolve the heart-mind, draw blood to swear an oath, report to the supreme sages and perfected ones, and sincerely covenant before Heaven—only then may it be transmitted. Hence Ming requires transmission from the master. Xing requires enlightenment: one is taught to directly investigate one's original face, truly participate and verify, clearly illuminate and see one's own nature, with the whole body radiant—hence Xing must be self-realized. Thus dual cultivation of nature and life (Xingming shuangxiu) until success, transcending the mundane and entering sainthood, all depend on this body cultivating and verifying for oneself. Alas, people of the world refuse to believe and accept, refuse to turn back to cultivation, only craving the seven emotions and desires of the world, willingly falling to become other species, unable to escape—therefore it is said: few walk the road to the Three Pure Ones, many crowd at the beast's gate.

I report to worthy and virtuous people: Do not linger or look back. The key of Xing and Ming alone is worth guarding. If one element is missing, flourishing and bearing fruit cannot occur; clinging to worldly entanglements (bocha), one loses the true path.

The patriarch repeatedly admonishes worthy people: Do not attend to worldly affinities, do not cherish wife and children or greedily seek profit and fame. Only the mechanism of Xing and Ming must be guarded—do not neglect it. Cherish life and destiny to seek escape from the suffering of birth and death. Cultivating only one side while lacking the other is lopsided—flowers cannot open nor fruit form. Clinging to these worldly bonds, one loses the true gateway of the Great Dao.

Cultivating only Xing without Ming is the first great illness of cultivation. Cultivating only the ancestral nature (original mind-nature) without refining the elixir (Neidan formed from Jing and Qi), even after ten thousand kalpas, the yin-spirit obtained cannot enter the rank of sages.

The Immortal Lu (Lü Dongbin) took pity on later generations who sought the Dao yet went astray. Those who failed to grasp the correct path clung to Wuwei (non-action) and “emptiness,” abandoned wife and children, entered the mountains to cultivate, sat in dull stillness with hearts like dead ashes, and blindly practiced random methods while imagining this was Chan meditation. Such fools suffer the first sickness on the path of cultivation. Once that poison has sunk deep, even skilled physicians and fine remedies cannot save them; in the end they still cannot escape death. There are indeed “iron-backed arhats” who stubbornly endure harsh practice and may reach the level of pratyekabuddhas (awakened alone, without a teacher), with samadhi lasting a thousand years; they may even produce a yin spirit (a spirit that can leave the body but is still yin, not yet fully yang)—yet they still struggle to enter true sagehood. Without cultivating the Golden Elixir (the Neidan refinement of nature and life), one cannot firmly establish the correct path of the Dao.

According to the Buddhist sutras, the first fruit, srotapanna, is called the stream-enterer and already counts as sagehood; by the fourth fruit, arhatship, the scriptures say one can fly, transform, sustain one’s lifespan, and move heaven and earth. The pratyekabuddha vehicle ranks above arhatship and only slightly below the bodhisattva vehicle—hence the saying that one has entered the sacred domain but has not yet reached the highest excellence.

As for truly awakening to the essential point of emptiness and mind-nature, the work of ming (life) is already contained within it—this is what is called the fully awakened golden immortal. Therefore the Realized One Zhang of Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) said: “I obtained the secret transmission that Bodhidharma and the Sixth Patriarch never spread abroad.” That is why the Patriarch Lü of Fuyou (Lü Dongbin) expounded scriptures such as the Eight Grades and Three Grades, explaining in depth the unity of the Three Teachings. He feared that people would know only how to cultivate xing (nature) and not ming (life), and would stop short of investigating principle to the end, fulfilling mind-nature completely, and extending that fulfillment to life—so he warned again and again.

If one dismisses Buddhism wholesale, claiming it cultivates only xing and not ming, how then explain the Patriarch’s visit to Huanglong, his awakening through that encounter, and the verse he offered: “Since I once met Huanglong, I finally knew I had misused my mind before”? Later students must not misunderstand these words.

Having mastered the Life Gate school (mingzong) yet lost sight of Ancestral Nature (zuxing): one has only become adept in the Life Gate approach—emphasizing cultivation of the root of life to seek longevity—while losing the Ancestral Nature, the original true nature every person is born with. It is like wanting to see your face when you have the mirror stand but no mirror: you cannot see your true face. Even if your lifespan matched heaven and earth, you would still be a fool; though you held wealth in ten thousand strings of cash, you would have no authority to manage or use it.

Some receive from an immortal master the oral secrets of the Life Gate school, yet cling to one-sided, partial views. They only make the foundation of life solid, while Ancestral Nature is not yet realized and their true face remains unseen—precisely the case of having a stand but no mirror. They do not understand the Nature Gate school (xingzong), which stresses wisdom and seeing one’s nature, nor the principles of transformation, transcendence, and spirit exiting the body to enter stillness. Thus, though long-lived, they lack wisdom—like a worldly fool guarding empty riches, with no plan for how to put them to use and no handle to grasp.

Dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu)—mysteriously abstruse, mystery upon mystery (as in “profound and again profound,” xuan er you xuan): it is like launching the dharma ship upon the surging waves at the bottom of the sea and seizing the dragon’s head alive, so that one knows the old master’s skill was no empty transmission.

Once the practitioner has contemplated and understood the nature-body, they refine the inner elixir (neiyao)—medicine formed through one’s own cultivation—complete the root of life, and gather the elixir foundation (dantou), the initial basis of forming the pill, like spokes converging on the hub; then harmonize and nurture it with warmth. Inner and outer firing suffer no lack, no peril, no lapse. With such dual cultivation, morning follows the hexagram Tun, evening the hexagram Meng, to regulate the firing (using Yijing hexagrams for the rhythm of advance, retreat, and refinement); first gathering, then rising—the two modes working together—truly mystery upon mystery. As on the surging sea one launches the dharma ship, crosses the three calamities and eight hardships, the nine misfortunes and five bitter trials, and on the sea captures the head of the azure dragon (the “dragon’s head” in the verse). Reaching this genuine realm, one knows the true master’s craft of old was no empty show without real benefit. Even if one’s bones were ground to powder, one could hardly repay the patriarch’s deep grace. Later students should follow this path and not waste their days.

Where notes diverged from the original intent of this song, they have been revised slightly so as to align with the patriarch’s meaning. This is commentary on “Qinyuanchun,” by Zixu Liaozhenzi Xiao Tingzhi (style Yuanrui).

Sevenfold return forming the elixir (qi fan huan dan): the elixir refined through seven returns.

In the numerology of the Five Phases, the generating number of Fire is two and its completing number is seven (generating numbers are the numbers of initial birth; completing numbers are the numbers of full accomplishment). “Return” (fan) means going back from below to above; “revert” (huan) means going from above back down to below. Some also say: Wood’s number is three and Metal’s number is four; together they make seven, hence “seven returns”—that reading is also very subtle. Metal and Wood are the parents of Water and Fire, the ancestors of the Five Phases, and the foundation of the returning elixir (Neidan formed when essence and Qi return and congeal). If you take tears, saliva, fluids, essence, Qi, blood, and bodily liquids as the “seven returns,” you are wildly wrong.

Zhongli Yunfang (Zhongli Quan, style Yunfang) has a poem: “These seven kinds of spirit-substance all belong to yin; if you take them as seed for the elixir, how can you ascend and reach the Jade Capital (the heavenly immortal realm)?” The Ziting Jing also says: “What is there to prize in these seven yin things?”

Names for the returning elixir are many: great elixir, internal elixir, Wanghu elixir, crimson-snow elixir, blazing golden elixir, dragon-tiger great medicine, nine-turn divine elixir, lord of the cosmos, divine talisman white snow, tortoise essence phoenix marrow, hare marrow crow liver, pre-heaven earthly essence. Whatever the name, it is only true lead joined with true mercury—not vulgar lead and mercury, nor mineral, plant, or other material drugs with physical form. The mercury is nine-turn true mercury; the lead is seven-return true lead. Only these two ingredients are the true Qi of Heaven and Earth and the utmost essence of sun and moon. Matched outward, they display the image of Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth); matched inward, they accord with creation and transformation. They have both generation and restraint (they can both give life and check excess); they may appear as tiger or as dragon; because they hold subtle principle they are paired as husband and wife, and because they continue the ancestral line they are called father and son. Once the two ingredients are clear, you must also know their two natures: through the go-between, male and female harmonize; through the mother-substance, offspring mature. Go-between, mother, husband-wife, and father-son are all images for this pairing. The sage’s deepest secret is mystery upon mystery. Those who cultivate the elixir should return into themselves to seek it—that is all.

For a person, the first step is to refine the self (lianji—tempering body and mind) and await the right moment.

The Dao is not far from people; the common folk use it every day without knowing they do. “Refining the self” (lianji)—in internal alchemy (neidan), first tempering oneself to prepare for “refining form”—is the work of refining form: nothing more than opening primordial Hongmeng (primordial chaos), piercing through chaos, gathering the essence of true unity (zhenyi), and holding fast to pre-heaven Qi (xiantian zhi qi), thereby laying the foundation for forming the elixir (danji). Those who cultivate the elixir need only turn inward and seek within themselves. For a person, one must first refine the self and only then await the right moment.

One cannot use things of unlike kind to accomplish transformation and creation. Thus the Cantong qi (Syncretism of the Three, a classic of the elixir way) says: “Swallows and sparrows do not hatch phoenixes; foxes and rabbits cannot be reared into horses. When kinds match, results come easily; without the right seed, success is hard.” The master of Jinhua Cave answered the recluse of Taishi Mountain: “Gather the yang soul, dispel the yin soul; with yang troops drive back the yin brigands. The eight trigrams (bagua) stir one another; the five phases (wuxing) check one another; return to the root and recover life—the light of the returned elixir shines bright. This is refining form through essence (jing), not ordinary sand and stone.” Some take “refining the self” to mean refining earth (tu)—that reading is also very apt, for the medicinal substance arises in the southwest kun earth (kun is earth, southwest in the compass scheme).

The crux is knowing the moment. Once the moment is lost, on what account would heaven and earth bring forth the seasons and the myriad things? On what account would yin and yang Qi give rise to the dragon and tiger (symbols in neidan for yin and yang breath)? The periods after and before the half-moon (xianhou—borrowed from lunar phases for stages of “fire timing”) are the creation within the hours; where Kan and Li meet is the work of an instant. At such subtle points, nothing can be separated from orally transmitted formulas.

It is just when the first stir of yang moves and the midnight clepsydra drips on and on: “The cosmos is in one’s hand; the ten thousand things are generated from oneself.” Master Pilu (Xue Daoguang) said: “In refining the elixir you need not seek the winter solstice—within the body yang arises on its own.” In the hours there is the work of the hours; in an instant there is the work of an instant. The lead cauldron (qianding—the inner vessel for the medicine) grows warm; light shines through the curtain.

Following the cauldron (ding) means the lead cauldron within the work of creation (zaohua). “Wenwen” (gently warm) means the firing must not fall short: one must use a mild fire to nurture slowly before the elixir can form. Master from Pili (a senior in the elixir path) said: “In the golden cauldron, warm liquid should always remain; the fire in the jade furnace must never be allowed to go cold.” That is exactly what is meant. The curtain and screen refer to the eyes. Zhongli Quan (Yunfang) has the line “Close the door, let down the curtain, and silently look within.” The crux of practice is that spirit-light (shenguang) shines bright and can penetrate and illuminate this curtain and screen.

“Creation races ahead; dragon and tiger meet.”

“Creation racing ahead” means the dragon gives one cry and clouds rise; the tiger gives one roar and wind stirs. Water-tiger must seize fire-dragon so the two can meet. Dragon and tiger, lead and mercury, are all Neidan (internal alchemy) figures for yin and yang qi within the body. The Yaojingjing (Mirror for Entering Medicine), a classic by Cui Xifan, says: “Lead-dragon ascends, mercury-tiger descends; drive these two in motion—do not let them run wild.” If firing misses its timing, dragon and tiger cannot meet, and lead and mercury scatter and flee. Ziyang (Zhang Boduan) wrote:

“The white tiger of the western hills rages wildly;

The azure dragon of the eastern sea is hard to hold;

With both hands seize and subdue them—

They turn into one frost of purple gold.”

“Seizing with both hands” means nothing more than making them meet, so they can congeal into the treasure.

The work of advancing the fire falls on the positions marked by the three asterisms Niu, Dou, and Wei—at this point the firing is most critical.

What is called “fire” is the true essence of the sun—it has a name but no fixed form. Thus the Zhouyi Cantong Qi (a classic of Daoist neidan) says: once true lead (the true yin that serves as the medicinal foundation in internal alchemy) is obtained, true fire is still hard to gain; how can one speak of it lightly! Why does fire arise from water? Because the Kan trigram belongs to water, and within Kan lies true yang; that true yang is true fire. When dragon and tiger meet and metal and wood join, true fire blazes within—this is the work of “advancing the fire.” Advancing the fire has its measures of soft and hard, civil and martial timing: “twice eight at the gate” (the yin and yang portions meeting), “six-one firmly sealed” (as if sealing the vessel so nothing leaks); following the hexagram lines in their course, keeping time by the clepsydra; understanding Dun and Meng, clarifying Pi and Tai; distinguishing the upper and lower “strings,” telling dark moon from new moon; starting from Fu and ending at Kun, rising at dawn and ceasing at dusk. Then yin and yang open and close in measure, and metal and water are harmonized.

If the firing misses its season, it is like rain and drought out of balance—bitter cold in deep winter, hard frost in high summer. In the golden palace, cinnabar and mercury fail to harmonize, and locusts swarm in the cauldron; the golden tiger and wooden dragon boil over, and the Kan male and Li female scatter. All this comes from skewed firing, so the spiritual mercury flies away. As they say, a fault as fine as a fiber brings regret and harm; a hair’s breadth of error, and the elixir cannot form. How can one not be careful! “Ox and Dipper in peril” means that when Ox and Dipper hold the hour, one should apply the work.

“On the winding river, the moon’s light is pure and bright, and a crow flies.” The small intestine’s nine coils and twelve bends are called the “winding river.” The moon stands for the deployment of the medicine; when the moon’s light is flawless and clean, that is the supreme treasure—and the very time to work. “A crow flies” shows yin holding yang within. Liu Haichan (a fifth-century neidan master) wrote, “How often the crow roosts on the cassia branch,” and also, “The crow flies yet the rabbit is not startled”; an old poem says, “A crow flies into the rabbit’s palace”—all one meaning.

At that moment one drinks the daogui (the tiniest portion of the inner elixir, by analogy) for oneself.

During the phase of union in practice, one begins by gathering from the earth cauldron—the place where the “medicine” is produced, usually the lower dantian—and “ingesting” it inward. This means using intention to guide the body’s true qi; it is not taking external drugs. The Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine) says: “Drink the knife-and-grain”—the tiny portion gathered—and only those who know the earth cauldron can speak together of the marvel of knife and grain.

Who would believe that an “infant” can be nurtured from nothing? The path of returning the elixir is precisely “something from nothing”: gather and refine step by step until a holy embryo forms—the internal elixir condensed from jing, qi, and shen—substance arising where there was no substance, until the “infant” is fully nurtured, a figure for a purely yang body. Master Ziqing (Bai Yuchan) wrote in verse: “How often the world makes us laugh—a man too can ‘carry a pregnancy’; when one’s own jing and blood unite within, the husband and wife inside the body are truly wondrous.”

One must distinguish whether the source water is clear or turbid. The Qingjing Jing says: heaven is clear and earth turbid; the male is clear and the female turbid—and clarity is the source of turbidity. In essence this is yang-clear and yin-turbid. What is light, clear, and floats upward is “true mercury”; what is heavy, turbid, and sinks is “true lead.” Both are external-alchemy terms used to describe qi inside the body; they are not real mercury or real lead. One substance plays two roles—how could one fail to tell clarity from turbidity and ascent from descent?

Wood and metal separated means wood and metal stand apart from each other.

Wood belongs to the east and corresponds to the heavenly stems Jia and Yi. Its emblem is the Azure Dragon; its trigram is Zhen—the eldest son in the Qian hexagram. In the Five Phases, wood generates fire, so wood is fire’s mother and is also spoken of as metal’s “wife.” The text further compares it to a woman in green garments, a person with jade-green eyes, and the azure dragon of the eastern sea—meaning the “wood fluid” (muye). Metal belongs to the west and corresponds to Geng and Xin. Its emblem is the White Tiger; its trigram is Dui—the youngest daughter in the Kun hexagram. Metal generates water, so metal is water’s mother and wood’s “husband.” It is compared to a young man in plain white dress, an old man with white hair, and the white tiger of the western hills—meaning “metal essence” (jinjing). Wood and metal sit at Mao and You respectively and cannot meet on their own; they must be brought together by Huang Po—in Neidan, the central spleen-earth and true intent, acting like a matchmaker—before they can become one body. Here “wood” and “metal” are paired medicines of the same kind as dragon and tiger, mercury and lead.

Zhang Boduan (Ziyang) said: “Wood and metal stand apart with no inherent reason to meet; they must be drawn together by a go-between.” Then wood generates fire and metal generates water; when water and fire reach the same place, metal and wood are joined into one through Huang Po’s mediation.

Without a master’s instruction, this is very hard to understand.

The great medicine of the Golden Elixir was traditionally said to be transmitted only once across myriad kalpas—an immensely long stretch of time. Even when the numinous text was kept in a jade casket for scriptures, nine out of ten seekers still remained confused. Successive sage masters passed it mouth to mouth and heart to heart. Without that heart-to-heart oral transmission, even someone with the talent of the “Three Heroes” or the wisdom of the “Ten Worthies”—the ten distinguished disciples of Confucius—could guess by every stratagem and still not know where to begin, and could not form the holy embryo—the inner elixir “fetus” condensed from jing, qi, and shen. As the saying goes: “Even if your intelligence surpasses Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, without meeting an enlightened teacher do not guess blindly. For the Golden Elixir has no verbal formula—where would you go to form the spirit fetus?” Liu Haichan’s poem says: “This Way is originally clear and manifest—why indulge in reckless speculation?” The path of the Golden Elixir truly cannot be known without meeting an authentic master.

The essential purport of the Dao is subtle and fine; its celestial mechanism is deep and far— it cannot be forced by guesswork.

The Great Dao has no fixed form, yet it gives birth to heaven and earth; it holds no partial favor, yet it sets the sun and moon in motion; it has no inherent name, yet it nurtures the myriad things. Not knowing what to call it, I can only provisionally name it the Dao. Dark and deep, within it there is awareness; vague and indistinct, within it there is something real. Look and it cannot be seen; listen and it cannot be heard; reach and it cannot be touched—yet from emptiness it brings forth being. The workings of heaven are far-reaching, and its mystery defies measurement.

The Yinfu Jing says: “Heaven has five thieves” (the usable vitality within the Five Phases)—whoever can discern them will prosper. One who understands this and cultivates accordingly is called a sage.

Without thoroughly penetrating Yin-Yang and deeply clarifying the transformations of nature, how could one break open primordial chaos (the undivided state before heaven and earth), gather the root of heaven and earth as parents, and use it as the foundation of the Great Elixir (Neidan, refined from Jing, Qi, and Shen)? Parting Hongmeng (the chaos before the cosmos unfolded), one takes the purest essence and Qi of Yin-Yang as the basis of the Great Dao; gathering the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth), one harmonizes the Four Symbols (the four kinds of Qi in internal alchemy corresponding to directions and organ energy).

The three flowers (Jing, Qi, Shen) gather at the crown, so that this one Qi does not sink into dullness; the five Qi (of the five viscera) turn toward the primordial spirit, so that the yang soul does not scatter in disorder. In depth and obscurity one acts freely; in vagueness and indistinctness one comes and goes—moving, drawing in and releasing, shifting the spirit into the yang abode (where yang rests).

When achievement is complete and virtue fulfilled, one may verify the rank of heavenly immortal. As for the golden elixir return to the elixir, there is only this one orthodox gate—how could it be compared with side-door minor methods? To begin now, even in haste, is already late.

Countless classics never explain the concrete practice for taking the first step in cultivation; they rely only on orally transmitted rhymes and formulas. At the very beginning of practice, one must activate the bellows mechanism of Qian and Kun (yin and yang, heaven and earth), gather the “knife-spoon’s measure” of Kan and Li (water and fire)—the subtlest inner “medicine,” a figure for the body’s true essence—and collect the spirit of the whole person, returning it to the Tiangu cavity (the upper Dantian within the crown of the head) to hold, warm, and nourish. When spirit and qi return to the root, this is called “turning the wind back to mix and blend, secretly firming the root foundation” (qi circling and interweaving, silently stabilizing the base). It is also the way of guarding the True One (shou Zhenyi). The Longhu Jing (Scripture of the Dragon and Tiger) says: the spirit chamber has upper and lower cauldrons, and transformation is held in the hand. Hence the Zhengyi (Orthodox Unity) perfected one speaks of the green serpent sword; the old man of Xishu gained the wonder of the golden hammer; Master Lü called it a fire staff; Qingcheng and Kongtong call it a sword—these are not the Great Dao itself, but only chasing outward traces to their limit; split them open and there is no root. Without the work of the first step, empty talk of the Golden Elixir (Jindan) leaves hardly one success in ten thousand. An old verse says: the sage knows the intent of creation and with his own hand sets sun and moon in the furnace. The Yinfu Jing says: heaven and earth are in the hand; the ten thousand things are born from the body. If study has not yet met its match, one must meet a true person (a clear master); if one meets him yet does not cultivate diligently, in the end one still falls among the lower ghosts. Laozi said: when the highest person hears the Dao, he earnestly practices it; the way of immortals can only be cultivated by human beings. An old saying also runs: immortals are nothing but ordinary people who cultivated. Know that rebirth comes quickly and karmic retribution is hard to escape; wealth and glory are no long-term plan. Hurry to begin practice—for fear it is already too late.

The road to Penglai depends on fulfilling three thousand deeds and virtues before one can walk alone on clouds homeward. The three isles of Penglai are immortal mountains on the sea—and they are also within the single body of a person. Worldly glory is no lasting scheme; cultivate quickly, still fearing it is too late. The path to Penglai rests entirely on three thousand deeds fulfilled; only then can one step alone upon the clouds and return.

The three isles of Penglai were originally immortal mountains on the sea. The human body also has its “three Penglai”: the crown is the upper isle, the heart the middle isle, and the kidneys the lower isle. In a poem, Master Ziqing (Bai Yuchan) says that “within the person there is a Penglai of one’s own”—that is the idea. “Three thousand deeds of merit” refers to the tally accumulated through nine years of “embracing the One” (holding to purity and sustaining inner refinement). When the nine-year work is complete, outcomes differ according to the depth of one’s merit: one may divide the body and scatter the shadow, moving in and out of presence and absence; or travel far in a light body, appearing and vanishing beyond reckoning; or transmute the bones and become an immortal, roaming Penglai; or be summoned by Taiyi (the deity who presides over inner refinement) and transferred to the Central Continent (the place where one receives immortal office).

The Yaotou Pi Ge (Song of the Kiln-Head Greenware) says: having passed through all the labors of nine years, one remains in the world without feeling the years turn; suddenly the Heavenly Gate at the crown opens, the True Person appears, spiritual powers are vast, and the immortals come to offer congratulations.

The Cantong qi says: when the Dao is accomplished and virtue complete, one first lies hidden and awaits the right time; then Taiyi summons one and one is transferred to the Central Continent; when merit is full one ascends, in accord with the immortal registers and receiving the charts and registers. Peng Zhenren’s commentary: the True Lord Taiyi presides over inner refinement. When people of the world first attain the Dao, their names are inscribed on the golden tally; on this continent they receive the register and charts, and only then may they ascend.

What follows is commentary on Qinyuanchun, the explanation of Linwu Shanren, Quanyangzi Yu.

Seven Return Elixir: seven is the number of Fire. In refining the elixir, one first puts the red into the black to generate the medicine; once there is medicine, one advances the fire again, refining the black into the red to form the elixir—hence “Seven Return Elixir.” It does not mean the seven double-hours from the yin period to the shen period. Zhang Ziyang’s Wuzhen pian says: the Golden Duke (lead) was originally the son of the eastern house, fostered in the western neighbor; once recognized, call him back to raise in your own household, and again unite in marriage with the fair maiden (mercury). That is the same principle.

For the person, one must first refine oneself (xiuji) and wait for the right moment.

The Chu Ci poem “Far Roaming” (Yuanyou) says: Do not disturb your hun and po; they will return to the natural on their own. Unify the breath and store the spirit inward; keep watch in the depth of night. With emptiness and stillness, wait—do not rush ahead to act. This is “refining the self and awaiting the right time” (lianji daishi): first cultivate and refine yourself, then quietly wait for the right moment. What matters is to withdraw the gaze outward and turn hearing inward, to be utterly still without stirring, and to fix the mind-spirit in the great void (taixu), free of the slightest stray thought. Before long, spirit enters into qi, qi and spirit merge, the subtle natural inner breath (zhenxi) settles on its own, and numinous clarity (shenming) arrives of itself—all in no more than a brief instant. Shao Kangjie (Shao Yong) writes in Xiantian Yin (Song of the Pre-Heaven): If you ask about the pre-heaven (xiantian), not even a single word has a place to rest; only after the post-heaven (houtian) does one need to apply effort. The elixir path is the same: gathering the “medicine” (caiyao) within the pre-heaven belongs to wuwei (non-action); advancing the fire (jinhuo) in the post-heaven belongs to youwei (deliberate action)—one cannot treat both with a single method.

This is precisely when the first stirring of yang (yiyang chudong) occurs.

Bai Ziqing (Bai Yuxuan) says in Zhuyu Ji · Dansui Ge (Pearls and Jade Collection · Song of the Marrow of the Elixir): To refine the elixir you need not hunt for the winter solstice on the calendar; within the body yang arises on its own. How do you know yang has begun to stir? In the brief instant of a finger snap, the gateway of Xun (xunhu, the portal where breath-energy stirs) suddenly opens; you become aware in the mind, right in that state of vagueness and trance. Then use the bellows (tuoyue, likened to breathing) to fan it, and strong fire (menghuo, intense refinement) to refine it; true lead (zhenqian—the pre-heaven yang hidden in Kan, the water trigram paired with the kidneys in neidan) emerges from the Kan position, the celestial carriage (heche, inner qi circulating along the governing and conception vessels) never pauses for a moment, and ascends to the peak of Kunlun (the crown)—only then can the returning elixir (huandan) be formed. Shao Kangjie’s Huanghu Yin (Song of Vagueness) says: In vagueness and trance, yin and yang have just transformed; heaven and earth are thick with yun (breeding qi), whirling for a moment. That fine bright interval in the middle—how could words make it clear? Unless one thoroughly understands yin-yang and creative transformation, who could know any of this?

“Zhongxiao” refers to midnight at the Zi hour (in ancient reckoning the Zi hour begins the day, roughly eleven p.m. to one a.m.). The Zhouyi cantong qi says, “Contain the primordial qi in the Xu-Wei positions; sow the refined essence at Zi,” meaning that primordial qi is stored in the Xu-Wei loci and refined essence is planted at Zi; it also says, “Between the last day of the old month and the new moon, the tally aligns and moves at the center,” referring to the interval before midnight on the thirtieth night, when the old moon is nearly gone and the new moon is about to appear. If one gathers this principle into a single day, then before each night’s Zi hour is likewise “between waning and new moon”—not limited to midnight on the thirtieth day alone. The Wuzhen pian says, “Sun and moon meet once every three ten-day periods; substitute hours for days—this is the divine method of the work,” which is precisely to map the meeting that occurs every thirty days onto the scale of hours; the meaning is already quite clear.

“Lou” is the drip clepsydra (the water clock used for timekeeping in antiquity), and it has an inner and an outer aspect. Inwardly, it refers to the coming and going of breath; Xue Zixian’s Fuming pian says, “This heart is like chaff over embers; in quiet sitting one hears the drip of the clepsydra”—that is the sense. Outwardly, it is the actual clepsydra. Some, seeing the Wuzhen pian say, “Know that the greatest hermitage lies in the marketplace; do not go deep into the mountains to nourish solitary stillness,” grow doubtful; they do not realize that in deep mountains lamps and clepsydras are hard to provide. Others, seeing Chen Niru’s Cuixu pian both say, “If you say the clepsydra’s drops offer no sure warrant, without grasping the arcane mechanism the elixir cannot be made,” and also say, “By day watch the sundial gnomon; by night observe the drip clepsydra,” think the two statements contradict. In fact, at the beginning of practice, when the work is not yet fully mature, the hours are easily mistaken, so one must set up an external clepsydra as the standard for keeping time. When the work is fully mature, the Dantian (energy center) already holds the seed, and the arising of refined essence has its own time—when the hour arrives, the spirit knows by itself; even if one is sound asleep, there is no need for another to rouse one; one awakens to it on one’s own. Why then still rely on the clepsydra?

“Lou yong” means that each drop follows the next in quick succession without break. To seek this principle in oneself is true breath continuing subtly without interruption—no different from water dripping drop after drop.

The lead cauldron (in internal alchemy, the Lower Dantian) grows gently warm, and a light shines through the curtain (the lowered gaze).

The cauldron is the Lower Dantian. As Zishi (the double hour from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m.) approaches, Yang qi quietly stirs beneath it—hence “warm and mild.” The curtain means the eyes: gaze downward as if drawing a curtain over them, so they are called the curtain. When the medicine (the refined Jing being cultivated) is present in the Dantian, Yang rises and reaches the space between the eyebrows, and light appears. It is like a candle in a room: only when its light falls on the window does the window seem bright—the brightness is not the window’s but the candle’s. If you startle at this sight and treat it as something strange, the mind moves and Shen (spirit) scatters. To hope for forming the Golden Elixir after that is far off the mark.

Creation and transformation rush forward in rivalry.

“Rushing in rivalry” points to the end of the Kun hexagram and the beginning of Fu—the moment when Yin is exhausted and Yang is born. Then the jade bell strikes once and both sides of the jade grotto open together, as Fuming Pian says: “Both sides rise together; together they weigh one jin.”

Tiger and dragon meet and combine.

Cantong qi says: the dragon calls the tiger; the tiger takes in the dragon’s essence; they nourish each other and mutually absorb. In making the elixir, mind and breath must rely on each other; only then do Qi gather and Shen concentrate, and union becomes medicine. Chen Chaoyuan’s Yuzhi Shu says: if Xuan and Huang (Yin and Yang) do not meet and combine, how can Yang qi fly up from beneath Kan (Water, in internal alchemy usually the kidney)? Therefore Yin and Yang must unite and the Dantian must hold medicine before one can advance the fire (warm and circulate according to the firing schedule).

The work of advancing the fire is most critical precisely when the hour aligns with the Ox and Dipper asterisms.

“Ox and Dipper in peril” refers to the celestial positions in the body that correspond to the firing phases (huohou) of internal alchemy. The work of “advancing the fire”—raising yang in step with the proper timing—begins to stir at the Zi hour (midnight) and is then “transported” at the Yin hour (around 3–5 a.m.), much as heaven generates the myriad things: at Zi the embryo is already formed, and at Yin it comes forth into life. The Cantong qi (the alchemical classic attributed to Wei Boyang) says: “Starting from the northeast where Winnowing Basket and Dipper stand, it immediately turns to the right like a wheel in motion, exhaling the breath of new growth.” The Cui Xu Pian (a Neidan text by Chen Nan) says: “There is a path where mother and child separate at birth; the subtlety lies among the lodges Tail, Winnowing Basket, Dipper, Ox, and Girl.” The meaning is the same. Some also read “Ox and Dipper in peril” as still being in danger, citing from the Wuzhen pian (Zhang Boduan’s alchemical classic) the line “when both hands seize it, it is called death”—that is another interpretation.

“On the Qu River above, moonlight clear and pure” means that above the Qu River one sees the moon’s light bright and immaculate. The Cui Xu Pian says: “On the road to the southwest the moonlight is bright; the great medicine (the elixir produced within) still arises from here. Remember an old poet’s line: above the Qu River the Magpie Bridge spans.” Ancient immortals originally called the nine coils and twelve bends of the small intestine the Qu River; later writers also called the space between nose and mouth the Qu River—both usages are defensible. Cui Xu further marks it with “the road to the southwest,” which makes the point very plain. Southwest belongs to Kun (one of the eight trigrams); Kun stands for the belly. When the medicine forms in the Dantian (the lower abdominal center of refinement), yang rises upward and, reflected in the eyes, becomes light; from the eyes down to the navel the whole passage seems hollow and white, shining like clear moonlight.

“There is a crow flying” means that a black crow is in flight.

The phrase “there is a crow in flight” refers to heaven and earth meeting within the human body: Kan (kidney water) and Li (heart fire) unite, yin and yang interweave closely, and a single drop of dew coalesces and falls into the dantian (energy center). Chen Xiuyi’s Zhixuan pian says “there is a crow flying into the Cassia Palace (the lunar palace)”; the Cuixu pian says “the red lotus holds the flower’s core, dew condenses into jade-green, and falls drop by drop into the Flowery Pool (where saliva wells in the mouth)”; the Yuji Huanyuan pian says “if one understands this principle, a single point falls into the Yellow Court (the middle of the body)”; and Bai Ziqing’s (Bai Yuxian) lyric says “now having recognized the Golden Crow (the sun), it flies into the jade toad’s (the moon’s) cave”—all speak of the same thing.

“At that moment one drinks the knife-handle measure oneself”: in medical texts, the “square-inch spoon,” also called a “knife handle” or “gui corner,” is only the amount that fits on a knife tip or the corner of a gui tablet. “Drinking it oneself” means this bit of essence circulates through the three palaces (upper, middle, and lower dantian) and descends to enter the mouth. This is the same meaning as in the Wuzhen pian: “After the embryo emerges, it enters the mouth, and the body at once becomes sage-like.” Some doubt: if one has already “emerged from the embryo,” why must it still enter the mouth? They then imagine the elixir comes from outside the body and try to swallow external substances—thus straying far from the Way. The Cuixu pian says: gathering and refining take no more than a moment; one breath subtly opens the three passes (such as the pillar behind the spine); it flows back and forth without end; a white channel ascends to the mud pill (in the brain); above it is a purple-gold cauldron; within the cauldron a piece of purple gold turns into jade nectar that flows into the mouth—sweet, fragrant, and refreshing, spreading over the tip of the tongue. Could that come from outside the body?

“And who would believe that the child is nurtured from within nothingness” means: who would believe that this “child” (the infant formed by inner refinement) is originally raised out of emptiness and non-being?

The great path of the Golden Elixir is in truth extremely simple and easy to practice: one must produce being from non-being and nourish the infant—the holy fetus that internal alchemists speak of, formed within the body. Tears, saliva, essence (Jing), fluids, Qi, blood, and the like can only serve as bridges—steps at the threshold—not as the true elixir treasure itself.

Students of the Way, hemmed in by narrow views, often cling to whatever they heard first and refuse to look further into alchemical texts. Even when someone who has attained the Way tries to guide them, who is willing to believe? The Cui Xu Pian (transmitted by the Southern Song master Chen Nan) says: such oddities are enough to make you laugh again and again—a man nowadays can even carry a child in the womb; one’s own essence and blood interweave within oneself, and the “husband and wife” inside the body are what is truly marvelous. What is called husband and wife is merely another name for Yin and Yang—not an actual worldly couple.

Some, fixated on the saying that “bamboo breaks, bamboo mends” (the idea that only like can repair like), therefore hold that human must supplement human and devote themselves to the Sanfeng heterodox art—the dual-cultivation method of drawing from the outside in heterodox branches. How could they believe that the Golden Elixir is originally a path of quietude and Wuwei (non-action), and that being can truly arise from non-being? You zuo (deliberate, contrived practice) is precisely “producing being from non-being”; when one reaches Wuwei, it is “producing non-being from being.” These two stages follow in order.

Distinguishing the purity and turbidity of the water source

The principles of clear and turbid have been sorted out before: one view is that heaven is clear and earth turbid and from that life is generated; another is to take the clear and discard the turbid, which reveals something even more subtle. To speak now of the purity and turbidity of the water source, we begin from the two characters “water source.” In the Yi tradition, Heaven first generates water, and its direction is north; the eight waters all gather here, hence it is called the source of water. The Cui Xu Pian says, “Hasten to let the hundred meridians all return to the root”—this is what is meant. What is above is clear; what is below is turbid. At first upper and lower meet and mix into one body; in time it gradually settles and gradually clarifies. Once it clarifies, the supreme medicine (the finest agent in the elixir) arises from it. Liu Haichan’s (a Fifth Dynasty Daoist master) Huan Jin Pian also treats this point.