《吕祖金华宗旨阐幽问答》

The Zongzhi of Golden Flower teaches the study of innate nature and mind, with emphasis on inner realization. Acquired learning, by contrast, focuses on outward forms. If one wishes to escape the cycle of rebirth, must one cultivate the formless?

Answer: There is no “formless practice” that one can deliberately perform. So how should one cultivate? It is mistaken to think that one can attain something while sitting quietly and then lose it when acting. What is lost in activity is lost because nothing was truly attained in stillness. To gain nothing in stillness and lose something in activity both show that one has not yet understood the Dao.

The metaphysical principle you speak of describes only what things ought to be; you have not yet understood why they are so. For now, seek the principle of the formless through visible signs, and experience what leaves no trace amid what does. In confusion, one can miss the mark by a thousand miles; when truly awakened, it may take only a single thought.

Question: What does it mean to seek what leaves no trace through visible signs?

Answer: A man who merely covets a woman’s beauty and searches for fragrance in what is subtle will always stray from the right path. He does not understand that within what is right there is a deeper rightness. The true mystery lies where a thought arises without any apparent cause.

Question: How can the mind be made still?

Answer: Investigate things and affairs to their utmost.

Question: What does it mean to seek what leaves no trace through visible signs?

Answer: A man who merely covets a woman’s beauty and searches for fragrance in what is subtle will always stray from the right path. He does not understand that within what is right there is a deeper rightness. The true mystery lies where a thought arises without any apparent cause.

Question: How can the mind be made still?

Answer: It is difficult to investigate every thing and affair to its utmost, but easier to keep watch over one’s original mind at all times. To “preserve” means to nourish and maintain one’s own mind. Only when the mind is preserved can it serve as one’s guide; with such guidance, one can handle affairs well.

Whether one guards the original mind or lets it run free bears on whether one can follow the principles of Heaven, and marks the difference between wisdom and folly. This must not be taken lightly. Yet keeping the mind present is easily interrupted. Persist in it over time, and it will naturally become continuous. When it is continuous, thoughts will flow without interruption; when they do, inner illumination will appear. As illumination appears, the movement of Qi (vital energy) will grow abundant. Once Qi is abundant, dullness and distraction will gradually fade away.

Alas, of all the world’s affairs, this alone is most important; everything else is secondary. No matter how busy you are, reserve a portion of your attention to guard the original mind, and grasp the principle that runs through all things amid your many affairs. If you cannot understand these two statements, you will ultimately find it difficult to enter the realm of the sages.

Question: How does one observe one’s own mind?

The answer said: Use a tranquil mind to observe your own mind. The mind’s nature is originally undivided: it is simply pure, true, and numinously aware. It runs through beginning and end, with nothing else apart from it. It does not leave behind the things encountered through seeing and hearing, yet it can transcend them and reach the realm of the Buddha.

There are, however, different depths of observing the mind: observation pursued through deliberate effort, and observation that arises naturally; observation apart from worldly things, and observation within them; observation that settles on neither the inner nor the outer, and observation that illuminates all things universally. Which way will you use to observe the mind? My Daoist method proceeds in stages; one cannot skip ahead. From the initial steps to the final attainment, none of these methods can be left aside. Begin with outward observation and ultimately reach universal observation. Which way will you use to observe the mind? My Daoist method proceeds in stages; one cannot skip ahead. From the initial steps to the final attainment, none of these methods can be left aside. What you do at the beginning is what you must ultimately attain. Observing the mind is where cultivation begins. Only when observation deepens and deluded thoughts are completely cleared away is there true emptiness. If you merely talk about the principle of emptiness without actually practicing observation, you are just talking Zen. An ordinary person remains an ordinary person; how could that count as cultivation?

Question: What does “turning the light back and reflecting inward” mean—that is, withdrawing the mind and spirit from external things and turning them back to observe the mind itself?

The answer said: “If you do not look, how can you understand? Without a raft, you cannot cross the river. If you deny even the ‘raft,’ then crossing the river becomes impossible to discuss; crossing means using the raft to get across. The raft is ultimately just a raft. Only when you understand that there is nothing in the raft to cling to do you know that crossing, too, is not some solid thing to grasp. Turning the light back and reflecting inward does not mean looking with the eyes; it means looking with the mind. The mind is this ‘eye.’ Only after gathering your spirit for a long time will you see the mind’s inner clarity and radiance. Those without firsthand experience can scarcely explain this; they may instead lead others to cling to appearances.

“Failure to realize the truth comes from weakness of Jing and Qi. For now, observe the mind and notice the subtle workings within; use this to nourish Jing and Qi. Once Jing and Qi have gathered somewhat, they will become apparent, and you will then perceive the wondrous workings of the Mysterious Pass—the crucial inner pivot that appears in cultivation. Only then will the work of inquiry and realization have a firm basis. Otherwise, it is merely vague and empty talk; to say it aloud is like deceiving others, and even you yourself will feel ashamed.

“Ah! The Great Dao is profound and hidden, and truly difficult to put into words. You must cultivate step by step until the flower blooms. The flower contains fruit, yet you must not regard it as something that truly exists; this is the path by which ordinary people transcend the conditioned realm. It is vast without limit, with numinous wisdom transforming in countless ways; the teaching seat is broad and far-reaching, and the teaching has no end. When your cultivation gradually bears fruit, and over time your mind becomes clear and you see Buddha-nature, then you will know that Longmian—the profound, hidden realm meant here—did not deceive me.”

Seeing the navel from below with the eyes is an external practice. True inner work is to let the mind and spirit gather of their own accord; this is the real Dantian (energy center). Turning to the left or to the right follows the same principle. The Elixir Classic (a text on alchemical cultivation) says, “What comes about by following nature is not a heretical or false art.”

Some say they see a light before their eyes. That is only a faint light, like a mouse’s—not the so-called light of “tiger eyes” or “dragon essence.” The light within the heart belongs neither to the inner nor the outer. If you use your physical eyes to watch for it or seek it out, you will fall into a demonic realm. For a long time, distracting thoughts have clouded your minds, so it is difficult to grasp the truth at once.

Life and death are matters of great importance. Turn a single thought back toward the light, gather in your spirit, and focus your awareness on your own heart: this is the “Buddha lamp.” The riches of a whole house depend on whether each person cultivates in earnest; the more earnest the effort, the more one can take in. The teaching I give is powerful enough to startle gods and spirits; only those of virtue can bear it.

What is the “Buddha lamp”? It is the constant illumination of clear awareness within the heart. Rather than lighting lamps inside and outside the house to make offerings to me, keep this one lamp in your heart shining through the night, illuminating the emptiness of the Five Skandhas (form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness, which make up body and mind). Only then will you understand the principle embodied by Guanyin, the Bodhisattva who saves beings from suffering and distress.

Everyone already has a lamp in the heart. Light it, and you can become an immortal of great power who lives forever. Do not lose sight of your original mind. Otherwise, your mind and spirit will grow dull and lose their grounding, and your spirit will scatter. This practice directly reveals the aim of Mahayana Buddhism and offers a straightforward path into cultivation. “Turning the light back” also refers to the state that will become manifest after death; it concerns more than the present moment.

You insist that I spell everything out before you will believe, but doing so greatly reveals Heaven’s secrets. Cultivate according to this teaching without deliberately chasing results, and the results will come of themselves. Then the principles you have studied throughout your life can come together. You cannot study one thing today and another tomorrow, repeat “wild fox Zen” (talk that strays from the true path and sinks into empty speculation), and think the matter is settled.

Question: What does it mean to set out on the highest path to Bodhi and truly reach the culmination of cultivation?

Answer: You never left home in the first place. Your mind was simply confused, mistaking south for north, and so you took a winding road for a thousand miles upon thousands of miles. In truth, what you seek is right before you. Let go of distracting thoughts, and the matter is settled.

Question: What does it mean to set out on the great path to Bodhi and truly return home?

Answer: You never left home in the first place. Your mind was simply confused, mistaking south for north, and so you took a winding road for a thousand miles upon thousands of miles. In truth, what you seek is right before you. Finding the jewel in your robe means learning once more to cherish what you already possess. With a single thought turned back to illuminate within, you are already walking the path to Bodhi; home is just before you. The finest place for cultivation need not be a monastery: wherever you are is itself an aranya, a quiet place for spiritual practice. What I teach is a method of transmitting mind to mind, a practice that allows direct entry. It is called “cultivating to preserve the root”: protecting one’s original nature and cultivating oneself. When your foundations are deep and your practice has accumulated to a certain degree, great radiance can shine forth, like a clear, bright day. There is nothing extraordinary about this. Even those whose foundations are shallow and whose strength is weak can attain the state of lesser immortals and spirits. All of you should grasp this principle.

Question: Should cultivation begin with the study of nature—that is, cultivating the mind and nature?

Answer: If you cultivate nature alone without understanding the study of life, your practice cannot be complete. Begin with the principles of nature, investigating them and bringing forth the work of life. Only when the work of life is fully understood can you awaken completely to mind and nature. Speak only of nature without understanding life, and mind and nature will not be thoroughly understood; speak only of life without understanding nature, and you cannot truly realize it. Thus the Book of Changes says, “Exhaust the principles of things, fully understand one’s nature, and thereby reach an understanding of the principles of nature and life.” If you have already fully understood your nature, why must you go further and reach an understanding of the principles of nature and life? Unless you investigate the principles to their end, how can you know where the wondrous workings are concealed? They can bring a person to life or cause a person to die. The key to life and death lies here; there is no other mysterious pass, the crucial gateway spoken of in cultivation.

Another question: Is it enough to hold fast to one’s true suchness, the pure and unchanging nature?

Answer: How could true suchness be held fast and kept in place? Since it is said to be so in its very nature, lively and spontaneous, how could deliberate thought have any place in it? If it cannot even be grasped by thought, how could you keep hold of it? To remain naturally undiminished without deliberately guarding it is to guard without guarding. Insisting on holding fast to it instead obstructs the expression of true suchness. Do not cling or grasp. The four great elements that make up the human body—earth, water, fire, and wind—are empty and illusory; the five skandhas that make up embodied experience—form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness—have no fixed substance. What, then, is there for you to investigate and seize?

Question: Can the mind be focused on a single point?

Focusing on one point is certainly important, but the mind has no fixed abode, so cultivation also calls for flexibility. In exploring mind and nature, the key does not lie in outward appearance or what the senses perceive, since these belong to the acquired condition formed by body and mind after birth. Perception is the mind’s function; stillness and emptiness are its essence. If you cling to acquired sensory faculties and temperament, allowing ingrained habits to take charge, you cannot fathom principle or understand it completely.

Someone asked, “If the mind is not focused on one point, how can it have anything to govern it?”

The reply was: “Only by going beyond movement and stillness can you truly govern it. What seems to have no governor is, in fact, its true governor. Do not take this to mean something absurd. The mind and spirit move freely, like thunder, rain, wind, and clouds shifting and changing. The transformations of Heaven and Earth all appear, alive with flowing vitality. This state seems extraordinary, yet it is also natural and ordinary. It is as though heavenly blossoms rain down and the gods present auspicious signs, filling you with joy. In this way, you can awaken fully in this lifetime and bring all things to completion. Wherever you look, you see a sacred ground where divine light appears, and in the end everything returns together to light. Do not become entangled in whether this state is clear and bright. Consider it carefully: the harder you try to seize it, the farther away it recedes. You will only make the heart-fire blaze, without nourishing it with water-Qi. When Water and Fire lose their balance, how can you refine a lasting Divine Elixir—the perfected result sought in Neidan (internal alchemy)? The Daoist’s words are wholly clear and direct, with no deception or contrivance. If you can understand them well, the Great Dao is right before you; you need not wait until a future life to awaken. In an instant, great radiance can shine through everything: the Five Aggregates—form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness—are all empty, and the whole world seems to lie within your grasp.”

Someone asked, “Does Shen enter Qi?”

Answer: How does one begin? As long as the spirit does not leave the Qi, there is nowhere that is not an “entry.” The phrase “the spirit enters the Qi” refers to the acquired spirit—the spirit-consciousness formed through ordinary mental activity—not to the path taken by the innate spirit. The work required at the beginning is to recognize, within the Qi, the place in the heart-mind. This must be experienced with care; it is where the Mysterious Pass (the key point in cultivation where body and mind, spirit and Qi, meet) opens. Deliberately straining to find it will only throw it off course. Treating the Qi that circulates through the whole body as the opening of the Mysterious Pass carries great danger, and one must be aware of this.

The Mysterious Pass is the true center of Heaven and Earth. Within the aperture there is another aperture, yet no particular location can be pointed out. If one could point to a specific place, it would merely be one part of the transformations of the Five Phases (the patterns by which all things in Heaven and Earth arise and change); how could that count as something beyond creation and transformation? Though the mysterious teachings do not fall within creation and transformation, they are also connected to it. Anyone who has not cultivated and verified this through personal experience cannot truly explain these words. Every line of this formula points directly to the essential point. It can only be grasped in silence; there is no need to say more.

Question: What is the relationship between spirit and Qi?

Answer: The spirit has no form or substance; spirit is Qi, and spirit and Qi cannot be separated. Apart from Qi, spirit has no support; apart from spirit, there can be no movement of Qi. The movement of Qi is the movement of spirit.

A further question: If spirit and Qi cannot be separated, why do Daoists also speak of “refining Qi to transform it into spirit”?

Answer: This means preserving what is pure and removing what is turbid. When Qi becomes pure, the spirit becomes clear and numinous; spirit is pure Qi. If we go further and speak of “refining spirit and returning to the void,” is that void not Qi? Qi is spirit, and spirit moves within Qi. This, too, is called returning to one’s source.

Question: What, then, does it mean to use Qi to respond to Qi?

Answer: “Using Qi to resonate with Qi” certainly makes sense. But if the “Qi” here is understood as the Qi within the human body, then innate True Qi is confused with acquired, ordinary Qi, and this cannot explain the Great Dao. When can a cultivator ascend to the immortal realm? Not through this Qi that can be touched and sensed, but through a state of quiet emptiness and clear awareness, without form or trace, in which there is not even a single thought to cling to.

As for minor techniques such as circulating Qi, they can also nourish the physical body and prolong life. But to believe that cultivating the Great Dao requires working on the physical body is the view of a heterodox path. The Great Dao attaches itself to nothing, yet manifests its workings from a place with no basis or support. If this is not how one understands it, and one instead cultivates according to another set of methods, then how could clinging feelings and thoughts have any place in a state of unobstructed clarity? Buddhist words can be very pleasing, and the music of the immortals can be beautiful, but alas, people do not understand; they lack those who can truly appreciate it.

In short, outward deeds of cultivation have no direct connection to the Great Dao. To cultivate the Great Dao, one must first refine Jing and transform it into Qi. The “Jing” spoken of here is not the essence produced through sexual intercourse; the alchemical texts have made this quite clear. This stage is already difficult to explain, and the second and third passes are even harder to describe. The Great Dao is profound and mysterious; it is no child’s play. Some people hear the way to enter and assume they have already reached the ultimate, yet they do not know how to leave. And after leaving, what is the state of entering again?

Question: What is cultivation?

Answer: To cultivate is to remove defilement. If the mind is free of defilement, what is there left to cultivate? To keep cultivating deliberately would be like adding another head on top of your own: entirely unnecessary.

Question: How can one realize it?

Answer: Realization means recognizing the original nature. The mind’s original nature has no shape; realizing it is itself the practice. With each degree of realization, one accumulates a degree of attainment. As this accumulation deepens, clarity appears, and the Dao is right before you. You are still trying to begin with its workings and seek its original nature. Only when the original nature appears do its subtle workings emerge. Though these subtle workings reveal the original nature, people often fail to notice them.

Question: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity establish the foundations of the Three Powers. What is the foundation of the human being?

Answer: The human foundation lies in the mind; this mind is the Heavenly Mind. It is called the “human mind” when considered from the human perspective, and the “Heavenly Mind” when considered from Heaven’s perspective. The Supreme Lord shines within your mind; the Heavenly Mind and the human mind are no different.

Question: Heaven, Earth, and humanity each establish their own foundation. What is the foundation that human beings establish?

Answer: The foundation of a human being lies in the heart—that is, the Heavenly Heart, the original heart that connects with Heaven. From the human perspective, it is called the human heart; from Heaven’s perspective, it is called the Heavenly Heart. The Lord is within your heart. Your original heart connects with Heaven and therefore with the Lord. With a single sincere thought of communion, you can enter the ranks of the immortals.

You have not yet truly learned the principles of the Dao, and I am ashamed that I have not taught you well. I will explain to you in detail the principles I have treasured. The foundation to which the Dao points is called Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), the source from which all things arise. The principle of Taiji runs through Heaven, Earth, and humanity. From it, Heaven establishes the foundation of Yin-Yang transformation, and the workings by which all things continually come into being begin. People possess this principle by nature, but selfish desires obscure it, keeping it from appearing; only the outward form remains. In movement and stillness, people stray from the right path without even realizing it. Days pass in a haze, thoughts drift with circumstances, and indulgence knows no bounds. Before long, they are ever farther from their original heart. How lamentable: when death arrives, the body vanishes in an instant, and the person does not know where they are bound.

It is often said that scholars hope to become worthy people, and worthy people hope to become sages. To reach this state, one must return to the original heart. The key is to investigate the principles of things and deepen one’s true understanding. The essential point in seeking knowledge is to keep the heart steadfast. With a pure and single-minded heart, one makes continual progress; when evil thoughts intrude, one drifts without end. Alas, you have followed me for a long time, yet I have never spoken the essential point plainly. Perhaps there are few who can remain calm and respectful, and few who are sincere and single-minded. It is clear, then, that cultivating the Dao cannot be accomplished without effort.

Even amid the clamor of wind and rain and the bustle of human affairs, one can remain at ease. When it comes to subtle principles, many explanations may seem empty, but they must be put into practice through actual cultivation. Without accumulating De (Virtue), there is no foundation. So take the affairs of daily life as stepping stones in cultivating the Dao. When a task can be accomplished, progress will come naturally once the time is ripe; if it cannot be accomplished for now, worldly circumstances and arrangements still have their place. Heaven and Earth are impartial and selfless—why scheme and maneuver at every turn?

You may have matters to attend to; that is no obstacle. What matters is keeping your spirit from scattering. Be focused, like a fierce fire gathered within a furnace, so that you can become truly single-minded, enter the path of Bodhi (awakening), and attain Nirvana (release from birth and death). Otherwise, the principles being discussed will seem remote and vague, and their intent will grow obscure. If you do not understand the roots of your own nature and life, how can you make any progress?

Question: Must careful inquiry into the practice begin in everyday life and be put into practice in oneself?

Answer: What particular practice is there? One does not act deliberately, yet the mind is attentive and thorough; one does not put on a solemn appearance, yet remains reverent within. Restrain yourself through sincerity and respectful care, so that what is manifest and what is hidden become one, and inner substance and outward function are no different. In that case, where is the practice, and can one say it is nowhere? The Great Dao is silent and gentle. At every moment it is calm and fitting; whatever one encounters, one meets it with composure. Restrain yourself through sincerity and respectful care, so that what is manifest and what is hidden become one, and inner substance and outward function are no different. In that case, where is the practice, and can one say it is nowhere? The Great Dao is silent and gentle. At every moment it is calm and fitting; whatever one encounters, one meets it with composure.

Question: I know only that stillness is substance and movement is function; what is manifest is manifest, and what is concealed is concealed. If we divide them into two sides, we cannot bring them together as one. Earlier, you said, “The manifest and the hidden are one; substance and function are not distinct.” Were you speaking of the formless realm?

Answer: Within form there is the formless; within the formless there is also no fixed “form,” just as there is no fixed “formless.” Through this deepening examination, recognize that substance and function are originally without distinction, and investigate how the hidden and the manifest shift in ways beyond measure.

Question: You said, “One does not act deliberately, yet the mind is attentive and thorough; one does not put on a solemn appearance, yet remains reverent within.” Since practice is everywhere and has no fixed location, this is surely the unity of the manifest and the hidden, with no distinction between substance and function. But when we look at the movement and change of things, there are plainly movement and stillness. How, then, can the hidden and the manifest be said to shift in ways beyond measure?

Question: You said, “One does not act deliberately, yet the mind is attentive and thorough; one does not put on a solemn appearance, yet remains reverent within.” Since practice is everywhere and has no fixed location, this is surely the unity of the manifest and the hidden, with no distinction between substance and function. But when we look at the movement and change of things, there are plainly movement and stillness. How, then, can the hidden and the manifest be said to shift in ways beyond measure? Is it because movement and stillness both arise naturally, so that freedom from selfish desire is called unity without distinction? Or is it because the myriad changes cannot possibly depart from the Great Void—the vast, formless source—and are therefore called unity without distinction?

Answer: When water rises into waves, are the waves not water? Though the surface of the waves moves, within them water’s stillness remains. Waves are waves, and water is water; that is all. How could one fail to say that what is contained within and what appears outwardly are one, without distinction?

Question: Is the mind cultivated and preserved in order to attain the ability to understand things and their principles?

Answer: What is there to cultivate and preserve?

Another question: When understanding becomes fully penetrating and the mirror of the mind grows clear, impurities also come into view, and even the subtlest obscurations have nowhere to hide. Is this what is meant by “when clarity reaches its utmost, the remaining impurities are completely dissolved”?

Answer: The cultivation and depletion of the mind and nature both take place in this process. If you trace it to its root, there is no master directing it. It is like the sun and moon in their courses and the alternation of cold and heat forming the sequence of the year, or the four seasons turning and the eight seasonal markers—the four beginnings, the equinoxes, the solstices, and so on—waxing and waning. Only by following this pattern can the year come to fruition; the depletion and transformation of all things are contained within it as well. Thus the yearly cycle can proceed without obstruction, life is established, and the place where nature and life reside is found within it. You should burn incense, sit quietly, and observe attentively. In time, you will come to understand. It is like a boat moored on a river or lake for a long while, with the western mountain veiled in clouds. Now you know the sun is about to emerge; the moment has arrived.

Another question: Cautious reverence is the underlying substance, and this substance inherently has such cautious reverence. To accord with the substance is the work of cultivation. This is precisely what is meant by “acting without contrivance yet being meticulous and thorough, and maintaining no deliberate solemnity yet naturally being respectful.” Viewed in terms of its purity and clarity, it is called “knowing”; in terms of its ability to discern things, it is called “reverence”; in terms of its freedom from falsity, it is called “sincerity”; and in terms of its root in the ceaseless generation of life, it is called “benevolence.” In that its inner and outer, and its movement and stillness, cannot be divided, the Non-Ultimate and the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) may be regarded as one. When the heart is steadfast and reverent, the world can be brought to peace. The so-called “center” already contains “harmony”: when one speaks of the center, harmony is included; when one speaks of harmony, there is no need to explain the center separately. In action, one is always in harmony; in stillness, one naturally remains centered. Inner and outer are joined as one, upright from beginning to end?

Answer: Say in daily life what you put into practice, and put into practice what you say in daily life. Your everyday words and actions should all be sincere and free of falsehood. This is the profound teaching shared by Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism; there is no need to say more.

Another question: Yesterday we spoke of the mirror of the mind becoming clear and impurities coming into view. You explained that cultivation and depletion are joined as one. Is this what is meant by inner and outer being joined, and uprightness maintained from beginning to end?

Answer: Say in daily life what you put into practice, and put into practice what you say in daily life. Your everyday words and actions should all be sincere and free of falsehood. This is the profound teaching shared by Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism; there is no need to say more.

Question: Yesterday you spoke of “when the mirror is bright, its grime becomes visible.” You explained that both cultivation and harm arise from this. Do you mean that a person’s self-cultivation and self-examination arise from this, as do cravings and vanity? Is this the “yin spirit of conscious essence” (shijing yinshen), the spirit still shaped by acquired consciousness and not yet transformed, or the “seed nature” (zhongxing) spoken of in Buddhism, the innate capacity still awaiting awakening?

Answer: Are you doubtful, or do you believe? A great Way lies plainly before you. Once you reach the crucial point, you will naturally keep moving forward. Given time, the seed nature will naturally transform into Buddha-nature.

Question: If I find the root, can I attain complete awakening?

Answer: If you trace things to their source and arrive at the seashore, a yaksha will appear. Only when Yin energy reaches its utmost does Yang energy begin to arise. Until Yin has reached its limit, it is difficult to penetrate the source. Investigating from the root is the subtle method of clinging neither to emptiness nor to existence. This is the teaching I uniquely transmit. It reaches through Heaven and Earth, and the Great Way moves freely and unhindered. The Yang spirit, purified through cultivation, pervades the vast cosmos and can drink up all the waters of Jiangxi in a single gulp. The lion springs into action; as soon as it emerges from its cave, all the beasts fall silent in terror. Ha! Those lesser paths and side practices are not worth hearing about!

I tell you, there is no need to discuss how to cultivate the physical body. Follow this method and investigate further from the source of the mind: this is to seek the mystery in the Kan Palace, the inner place of cultivation associated with the Kan trigram and water, and to bring the water’s hidden dragon into view. If you have not entered the water and traced it to its source, what you know will remain only on the surface. To tell everyone you study the Dao is merely to seek an empty reputation. This is what is called “hanging up a sign of cultivation”: displaying the name of cultivation without putting it into practice. It is the greatest taboo in our tradition. Inquiry must be earnest, and realization must be genuine. What reaches through Heaven and Earth is all the Dharma-body, the true nature beyond the physical body; it is also all the manifestation of my nature’s light.

Question: What are Kan and Li—the water and fire of the Eight Trigrams, often used to refer to Yin and Yang in internal cultivation?

The reply says: This is the work of spontaneous transformation through innate nature. It is neither something brought about by human contrivance nor something that cannot be spoken of at all. These few words may seem mysterious, but those who grasp them can realize the true and enduring Dao; for those who do not, hearing them is ultimately of no use. It is like carrying out a task: you must find the right person, and that person must truly be capable, for the task to succeed. Otherwise, with something between you, how can you investigate the principle—wood is three and metal is four? These words strike at the heart of the matter. Do not take them lightly!

The questioner asks: Errant thoughts arise in a constant stream. Before one thought has subsided, another follows, like a fish drawing in water, taking it through its mouth and expelling it through its gills; or like summer, when the days are long and the nights short. In this state, there is no way to attend to and observe the Mysterious Female’s Opening—the opening in Neidan practice where Yin and Yang meet and the impulse of life is conceived. How, then, can one hope to see the opening and closing of the true mechanism, soft and continuous as silk?

The reply says: The human heart-mind is bright, able to illuminate both past and present. How, then, can one say that the Mysterious Female has no source? With time and practice, subtle insight will arise. One will understand the transformations of Yin and Yang; this is the key that precedes all change.

The questioner asks: Without the sun and moon, Heaven and Earth cannot appear; when the sun and moon withdraw, Heaven and Earth return to chaos. When Shen and Qi unite, Qi congeals and Shen settles—is this the joining of Kan and Li, the union of Water and Fire in Neidan practice?

The reply says: The joining of Kan and Li takes place without one being aware of it, and its movement never pauses, even for an instant. The Way of Heaven is constantly transforming. Its mystery lies in its natural accord, not in any deliberate effort to bring it about. Life and death are determined by Heaven; does Heaven arrange them intentionally?

The questioner asks: The joining of Kan and Li within the body gives rise to the Great Medicine. A glimmer of the original nature—the primal, true nature—is hidden in the belly of Kun, the place symbolizing Yin. Its radiance shines through a curtain, pure and without dust. The breath stops and Qi rests, leaving only empty clarity. Is this the heart of Heaven and Earth directing the transformations of all things?

The reply says: When Qi settles and breathing ceases, the principle is that the impulse of life begins to stir anew. This is why it appears lively and responsive. It is commonly called the “living Zi hour,” the moment in Neidan practice when the impulse of life arises spontaneously.

The questioner asks again: From this moment onward, transformation grows from faint to manifest, corresponding to the three Yang lines of the Qian trigram. Where the three Yang lines recede lies the principle of three successive stirrings…

Another question: The gradual development from what is subtle to what is manifest corresponds to the three yang lines of the Qian trigram in the Yijing. Where the three yang lines recede, the three yin lines appear. This is called the “Lesser Heavenly Circuit,” one full cycle of Qi moving in Neidan practice. One again enters a state like that of a womb: nature returns to life, and after a long period of accumulation, energy suddenly surges forth with force, its blazing fire rising high. This is an excess of fire Qi, which may stir up acquired feelings and thoughts. To prevent danger, one must inhale and hold the breath so the Qi descends without dispersing; then methods such as lifting and drawing in, and touching the tongue to the palate, help the fire and raise the Qi. In this way, one is clear, still, and open without being extinguished. This is called the “Great Joining,” the matching of True Mercury—a Neidan term for true nature or original Shen. Emptiness is True Mercury; it is also the emptiness of nature. It joins and congeals between the inner and outer. From then on, the fire cycle withdraws and is stored away, still hidden in the earthen cauldron, a Neidan term for the vessel in which body and mind are refined and cultivated. Through repeated refinement, one preserves purity and removes what is turbid until one reaches the utmost emptiness. Is this what is called “ending learning and having no worries”—not clinging to acquired knowledge and distinctions, and therefore being free of worry?

Answer: If you do not govern the root, it is difficult to bring the branches into harmony. Who can command the changes of thunder, rain, wind, and clouds between Heaven and Earth? Who can stop them? Cultivating the body is like working a piece of jade: you must grind away its roughness and carve out its flaws. Even when the work is deep and strength has fully accumulated, the jade’s luster does not appear all at once. Without great strength, this cannot be accomplished. Repeated changes from morning to evening merely trigger something for a time, causing the Qi mechanism to become unevenly concentrated. It is like a flaw in jade: even if you want to wash it away, you cannot force it to disappear. You must work hard at cultivation. Kan and Li, Neidan terms that respectively symbolize water and fire, among other yin and yang energies, arise from Qian and Kun, the foundations of yin and yang in the Yijing. And the names Qian and Kun themselves come from the transformations of Kan and Li.

Another question: When the aperture at the crown of the head is stirred, it suddenly closes and opens of its own accord. What does it mean to say, “Within what is so, there is also what is not so; within what is not so, there is also what is so”?

Question: I stir the subtle mechanism at the crown of the head (the crown gate’s pivot), and it suddenly closes and opens of its own accord. As it shifts back and forth between “so” and “not so,” is this change caused by intention, or is it the natural unfolding of Heaven’s mandate? At such a time, understanding of the Dao is clear, as though Heaven had opened up a realm of longevity, revealing all things in a vast and profound expanse. Is this what is meant by the “Treasury of the True Dharma Eye” and the “Wondrous Mind of Nirvana” (Buddhist terms for wisdom that sees into truth and a subtle method of mind)? This state grows ever more vivid and lucid. A Neidan text says, “Let it be the master; I shall be the guest.” That is, let the outside influence take the host’s place, while you yourself take the guest’s. So long as you do not forget the mind of alert awareness, you may let it transform the Yin Qi within the abdomen; this too may be called the “Heavenly King Heart-Supplementing Elixir.” This is what is meant by using Shen to govern Qi, and Qi to control Jing. Is this much like “the hawk seizing sparrows, the falcon striking crows in winter”?

Answer: These are abstruse discussions.

Another question: To unite with the light and mingle with the dusty world, yet remain unstained by it; worldly affairs, too, cannot cling to you. When the Qi mechanism moves, it is called the “River Chariot” (the movement of essence and Qi in Neidan practice). When its movement follows the way of Heaven, it is called the “Dharma Wheel” (a symbol of the practice’s cyclical flow). It is round as an egg, white as silk, soft as cotton, and light as rippling water. When hard, it is like an iron backbone; when it spreads into one continuous mass, it is as though the sea had surged over its banks. Once it is set in motion, it has the force to overturn Heaven and Earth: it rises like clouds, descends like rain, flashes with lightning and rumbles with thunder, while the adjustments of increase and decrease in cultivation—adding and withdrawing—also become apparent. The dripping sound of the water clock seems almost to let one taste the pure, mellow primordial wine (a symbol of subtle inner nourishment). These various opportunities ultimately amount to a succession of connected changes. Is this what is meant by “something must be present for the transformations of creation to arise”?

Answer: This state cannot be portrayed in images; the moment it is portrayed, it has boundaries. Such abstruse talk should not be taken as the effects of actual cultivation. In sum, accumulate an inch, and you become substantial by an inch; accumulate a foot, and you become substantial by a foot. The square symbolizes Earth, the circle Heaven. Emptiness does not appear as empty, and fullness does not appear as full; emptiness and fullness are no different, and everywhere there is something wondrous. Not seeing it does not mean there is no conclusion; even when you see it, there is no end. Laugh aloud: in the end, not a single word can make it understood.

Question: To live in the dusty world, yet transcend it.

The reply was: Not only that. This is merely the state of a beginner. When people cultivate in the world of dust, they may rise beyond worldly concerns, yet thoughts of the dust can still remain in their hearts; this is not without cause. When causes and consequences all become clear and settle into their proper places, and the mind is at ease and in harmony, it is like the spring tide swelling through the streams. What is there left to say? In silence, there is naturally a subtle and wondrous wordless teaching.

The question was: If there is no movement within movement and no stillness within stillness, does this count as movement and stillness united?

The reply was: In movement, one is not entangled; in stillness, one is not obstructed. Movement is stillness, but stillness is not movement. When movement and stillness come together as one, continuous and fine, this is a good state of fetal breathing—the subtle, prolonged breath cultivated in practice.

The question was: What does “continuous and fine” mean?

The reply was: The more still, the stiller. That is what “continuous and fine” means.

The question was: When the mind follows changes between movement and stillness, does it go around in a cycle?

The reply was: If the mind does not follow changes between movement and stillness, that is a cycle; if it does follow those changes, that too is a cycle. No-mind is the true mind. How could one make distinctions?

The question was: Then should one make no distinctions?

The reply was: Make distinctions, and distinguish even the absence of distinction.

The question was: Is being continuous and fine the right path?

The reply was: After becoming continuous and fine, one must return to what is not continuous and fine. Cultivation must proceed one step at a time, like walking the road up Mount Tiantai.

The question was: The human body belongs entirely to Yin. Even if one sits in meditation until reaching a state of clarity and stillness, this only lets the acquired Yin Po—the Yin aspect of the spirit formed after birth—lie dormant for a time; the root of illness remains. It is like a ladleful of stagnant water: once it stirs, it grows cloudy. Gathering the mind in one place morning and evening may only cause the heart and spirit to be startled when they meet external things, turning into a sickness of the mind. Why not, as this year draws to a close and tomorrow is about to begin, seek the message within the clear emptiness at the summit of the Five Aggregates Mountain—a metaphor for the body and mind as a union of form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness? If you grasp it, you can live freely and spontaneously; if you do not, you are merely manipulating the spirit.

“What one can understand in principle is often beyond one’s ability to put into practice; and what one can actually do may not yet be matched by one’s understanding.” Being and nonbeing give rise to each other; what is hidden and what is manifest are hard to grasp; change arrives in an instant. How could any of this be inferred or discussed in words?

Question: What is “bathing”?

Answer: Bathing means washing away defilements.

The heart wanders freely between Heaven and Earth, while the heart-field is spacious and clear. Its numinous awareness is alive and active, and all manner of perceptions can be seen as illusory. Ah! When a person reaches the state of unity between Heaven and humanity, Heaven can transform into spirit; its changes are unfathomable. How wondrous and mysterious!

Radiance is the heart’s function; emptiness and stillness are its essence. If there is only emptiness and stillness, without radiance, this is not the state in which numinous awareness is alive and active and all perceptions are seen as illusory. Ah! When a person reaches the state of unity between Heaven and humanity, Heaven can transform into spirit; its changes are unfathomable. How wondrous and mysterious! Radiance is the heart’s function; emptiness and stillness are its essence. If there is emptiness and stillness without radiance, that is not true stillness and luminous emptiness. It is merely sinking into darkness, and is not the Great Dao. Original Jing—the fundamental essence and vital energy spoken of in cultivation—has already been depleted. One seeks to realize emptiness, yet has nowhere in which to realize it. This is truly falling into nihilistic annihilation. Heterodox practitioners, whose methods deviate from the correct path, speak of wearing away the sun and moon at the edge of the clouds and hiding their traces among the grasses; they also speak of vast, surging seas and golden waves rippling across a thousand acres. People in the world are misled by heterodox teachings and become absorbed in dark methods; they can hardly change their ways. You should quietly hold fast to the Dao I have transmitted. Do not waver or let your hearts be thrown into confusion. I hope you will cultivate the highest path and not fall into the lower and middle vehicles, which are not the highest good. At the utmost point of the highest good, movement and stillness have no fixed pattern, and the spirit is wondrously unfathomable. Its essence has no distinctions, while its manifest functions have no fixed form. The saying, “Before Heaven, it does not oppose Heaven; after Heaven, it follows Heaven’s seasons,” means to act in accord with the Way of Heaven, so that the numinous spirit naturally remains at ease and as it should be.

Question: Does regulating the breath mean regulating the breath through the nose?

Answer: Nasal breathing is the body’s external breath. True breathing is when the heart and breath depend on each other. The Venerable Prajñā, whose name signifies wisdom, said: “When breathing out, do not pursue external conditions; when breathing in, do not become entangled in the aggregates and realms of body and mind.” As for the word “when”...

He replied: Breathing through the nose belongs to the external respiration of the physical body. Only when the mind and breath depend on one another is there true breath—the inner movement of Qi spoken of in cultivation. The Venerable Prajñā said, “The outgoing breath does not follow the myriad things; the incoming breath does not remain fixed in the Five Aggregates or the Eighteen Realms.” Could this refer to breathing through the nose? The subtle mechanism that opens, closes, and circulates cannot be seen through all at once. Only after long, sustained practice may one suddenly understand that all things in Heaven and Earth lie within oneself. Humanity is called “great” because people stand alongside Heaven and Earth as the Three Powers; the transformations of the myriad things all arise from one source. These things cannot be sought in the physical body. True breath will reveal itself. True breath seems breathless, yet it truly breathes. Ah, this has laid bare the essential point! In cultivation, body and mind move with lively ease. As for observing the breath or listening to it, these too are methods that rely on the physical body to gather and settle the spirit; they are not the fundamental key to cultivation. The true foundation must still be sought in what is “true.” Observing the breath and listening to it are, in essence, one and the same.

Question: How does one cultivate through regulating the breath?

He replied: There are indeed methods for regulating the breath, but they are not described in only one way. There is external breathing and internal breathing; there is ordinary breathing and spirit-breath—the inner breath spoken of in cultivation. Embryonic breathing, a cultivated state in which the breath is deep and still, as though a fetus were breathing in the womb, is spirit-breath. Without breath, there can be no talk of embryonic breathing; without embryonic breathing, there can be no talk of this kind of breath. To cultivate embryonic breathing, one must begin by regulating the breath. When embryonic breathing is attained, it is “the breath of the True Person comes from the heels”—a profound saying that truly captures the essential point.

Do not divide the inner and outer into absolute opposites, though a distinction between them remains. The inner and outer refer to the Three Passes, the gateways involved in the circulation of Qi through the meridians during cultivation. The absence of inner and outer refers to movement and stillness becoming one. When body and mind form an undivided whole, this is called “transformation.” Without reaching this state of fusion and unity, one cannot speak of the wondrous, nor has one truly seen the Dao. Even a moment of insight is only a little sunlight breaking through the clouds. The true state is like the radiance of the sun and moon, shining through Heaven; it is no ghostly illusion.

Question: Embryonic breathing arises from the breath. In a state of hidden repose, the breath lies dormant and does not appear. As time passes, external breathing stops, leaving only the inner breath; then the Golden Embryo in the Spirit Chamber condenses and takes shape within the body. Are these processes of cultivation the result of natural transformation, impossible to obtain through forceful striving?

He replied, “This is an inconceivable state: suddenly entering the inconceivable is precisely what happens here. Do not mistake indifference or disregard for everything as ‘the inconceivable.’ Amid hidden repose, fetal breathing—the inner breath moving as it does in a fetus—is taking shape. The practice that unites Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism is what is called spirit-breath, or Wu and Ji, terms in Neidan that often refer to the Spleen-Earth and the harmonizing action of the central palace. There is little to say about external breathing. Until the practice is mastered, it cannot be complete. It is like reaching heaven after the ladder has been removed: profound principles are concealed in the inner workings; spiritual light shines through, and transformations are without end.”

He asked, “Are these inner workings Qi?”

He replied, “They are Qi, and it must be carefully nurtured. Once this is made clear, there is no need to say more about the orifices that the scriptures refuse to explain—the subtle gateways through which breath circulates and spirit-intention gathers in practice. Until the practice is mastered, it cannot be complete. It is like reaching heaven after the ladder has been removed: profound principles are concealed in the inner workings; spiritual light shines through, and transformations are without end.”

He asked, “When the inner workings become manifest in the central palace—the place at the body’s center where spirit and Qi gather—what is it like?”

He replied, “One sentence can surpass a hundred. It holds both responsive adaptation and truth; it can both illuminate and bring things into action. Words that let a person grasp the crucial point precisely are words that have hit their mark. ‘The utmost Yin is solemn and still; the utmost Yang is brilliant and blazing. The solemn and still emerge from Heaven; the brilliant and blazing arise from Earth.’ This speaks of Kan and Li, which in Neidan often symbolize Yin and Yang, and Water and Fire.”

He asked, “Does Shen arise from the physical form?”

He replied, “Shen does not arise from the physical form. What, exactly, do you mean by ‘Shen’? Comprehend the character ‘Shen,’ and the whole body will be at peace.”

He asked, “My Shen and Qi are insufficient.”

He replied, “Insufficient Shen and Qi result from prolonged depletion and injury. Nurture them well, and once they are replenished, they will rise vigorously. Comprehend the character ‘dragon,’ and the whole body will be at peace.”

He asked, “My Shen and Qi are insufficient.”

The spirit and Qi are deficient because they have been depleted and dissipated over a long period. When one knows how to nourish them well, and the spirit and Qi have become abundant, one feels a gentle warmth rising. Scenes from cultivation, such as the Dragon and Tiger and the Mysterious Gate, may also suddenly appear. Only then does one understand that the Three Realms—the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm, which may also refer to the whole world inhabited by sentient beings—are within one’s own mind. Yet the mind is not the same as the Three Realms; it contains them, perfectly integrated and unobstructed. The compassionate light of the immortals and Buddhas seems to pour down upon the crown of one’s head. This experience is exceedingly rare. It is an auspicious sign of peace and prosperity. Though one has not yet reached complete perfection, there is already a measure of its fullness. After attaining one measure, if that measure is not yet complete, one continues with another; when that measure is complete, it is still that same measure. How could one look at the sky through a short length of bamboo and imagine one had comprehended it all?

Question: Are the Five Phases the concrete expression of Yin-Yang, and do they belong to the postcelestial realm?

Answer: Could the Five Phases be absent from the precelestial realm? The precelestial Five Phases are already complete, and only then do the postcelestial Five Phases arise. Without the precelestial Five Phases, where would the postcelestial Five Phases come from? Though the Dao’s essence has no form or image, it already contains the myriad things. There are, of course, distinctions of before and after across time, but the principle by which the Five Phases continually generate and transform has no distinction of before and after.

Question: Is harmonious, flowing Qi the same as spirit water?

Answer: It cannot yet be called spirit water. The wondrous function of spirit water is to cleanse the mind and nature, returning the nature’s essence to purity. Impurities melt away, as though the spring breeze were melting all things; once touched by it, they are transformed, free from constraint. Do not stand idly by in the empty mountains; speak of this precious flavor. After tasting it fully, keep it in mind. Do not let spirit water flow away in vain. When a drop of spirit water returns to the root, all things can be brought into unity. Why create further worries and add needless complications?

Question: What are the two Earths, Wu and Ji—the Heavenly Stems Wu and Ji, associated with Earth and often used as symbols in Neidan cultivation?

Answer: A drop of water falls at the center and divides upward into Wu and Ji, but no gate has yet taken shape.

Another question: What does “refine the self and await the right time” mean?

Answer: First cultivate the mind and nature; only then can you await the right time. Without cultivation, there is no right time to await.

Another question: Are the two Earths, Wu and Ji, a precelestial wondrous function, and do they also belong to a method of cultivation that unites Daoist esoteric learning and Chan Buddhism?

Answer: The precelestial wondrous function is not easily attained. One must begin with postcelestial cultivation and accumulation. Only when human effort has reached its limit does the aid of Heaven arise. This is what truly entering into practice means, and it is only then that one has just set foot on the path to Bodhi, awakening and becoming a Buddha.

Question: In cultivating the Golden Elixir (the goal of Neidan practice), the key is the joining of Wu Earth and Ji Earth—terms in Daoist internal alchemy that represent the workings of Yin and Yang, mind and intention. This depends on the accumulation of postnatal practice. Only when human strength is exhausted does innate power begin to arise; that is when real practice begins, and the path to Bodhi has only just started.

Question: In cultivating the Golden Elixir, the key lies in Wu and Ji Earth: bringing true Yin and true Yang, true Mystery and true Receptive Nature into union. If one begins cultivation without the corresponding foundations, how can one use one impulse to set another in motion? Revealing the ordinary body’s potential and opening the vital gates both depend on this great activity becoming manifest. In cultivation, it is like wind, clouds, thunder, and rain converging between Heaven and Earth, in accord with the natural workings of creation. This is far beyond what can be achieved by sitting quietly in solitary practice. Is this what is meant by harmony and gathering—and can it ultimately lead to realization?

Answer: What is of different kinds is hard to bring together with skill; genuine practice must be grounded and steady. Discern the signs that appear before you, and see clearly that separation and union are connected at their source. Amid wind, clouds, thunder, and rain, who can see their root? Do not cling to appearances, but enter into them as well. Experience a deeper realm within appearances, and recognize the mind deep within your own heart.

Question: Must one reach great stillness and true emptiness before Ji Earth can settle? Is this what is called the state of samadhi?

Answer: Wu Earth and Ji Earth have shallow and deep levels. Even after fully understanding them, they remain Wu and Ji; striving to understand them before that understanding is complete is still cultivation of Wu and Ji. When one enters great samadhi and reaches true emptiness, the light of wisdom shines everywhere, like clouds of compassion appearing above a fragrant sea.

Question: Does Ji Earth have to disappear before Wu Earth can arise?

Answer: Ji Earth has not disappeared. If Ji Earth disappeared, Wu Earth would not arise either. When Wu Earth arises, that means Ji Earth has come alive too; without this, the mystery within cannot truly be revealed.

Another question: Must Ji Earth be refined until not even the slightest attachment remains before Wu Earth can arise?

Answer: That is right. Once Ji Earth, meaning the acquired, yin nature of Qi, has been sufficiently refined, Wu Earth, meaning the innate, yang nature of Qi, will arise. Only when Wu Earth has emerged can the yin stagnation within Ji Earth be dispelled. Otherwise, what one attains is merely a yin spirit; even if one achieves something, it amounts to no more than becoming a ghost immortal. Daoist cultivation is not like that. To reach a state in which one communicates with Heaven and Earth and wondrous workings flow freely, one must first take the “soul-returning elixir”—a Daoist Neidan term for the refining and nourishing work that restores the spirit and soul to their original, authentic state. Without it, it is difficult to dissolve and gather in the yin soul.

Most of you have middling or below-average aptitudes, so cultivation must proceed step by step; you cannot skip ahead. Only after you have seen the Heaven of Nature—your original nature, your innate true nature—will your practice be free of constraint. Before that, you are like someone groping blindly in a pitch-dark barrel. How can aimless meditation, with no foundation, be treated as an exalted method? And those who are clever and perceptive—whom can they ask for guidance? They run about searching everywhere, yet in the end remain lost. They have only the stillness of bamboo sounding beneath the night moon; with no wind, even the soul in a dream can scarcely enter the “elixir.”

The moon in water and the flower in a mirror are without sound or taste, while the forms of all things appear clearly in the human world. This is not some deviant doctrine spread along streams and winding paths to mislead people. My Dao takes seeing one’s nature and illuminating the mind as its central aim; illuminating the mind is precisely for the sake of seeing one’s nature. Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism are interconnected and harmonious, without obstruction. Those who truly receive a master’s transmission must also observe its rules strictly; their practice is not the same as that of ordinary people. Sages, worthies, immortals, and Buddhas all place reverence and caution first. Reverence and caution are the fundamental nature itself; they are not two separate things. This is the key to transcending the ordinary—what more needs to be said?

What is said in words concerns the successive stages of practice, each building on what came before. If you cling to these stages and cannot integrate them, you remain in the realm of ordinary people and must still endure the suffering of transmigration; this is not the highest vehicle. Once the Dao of Daluo—the highest realm of Daoist immortals—is understood, all matters are resolved at once. It is inherently unified and uninterrupted, not deviating for even an instant. A change arising in a single thought makes one an ordinary person; a change arising in a single thought also makes one an immortal or a Buddha. The difference between immortal and ordinary, sage and fool, lies in a single instant. Every thought is an instant, so where is there truly any fixed distinction between immortals and Buddhas? Such statements are words practitioners resort to out of necessity when explaining the matter.

Question: What is innate Qi, and what is acquired Qi?

Those who attain prenatal Qi and postnatal Qi often seem as if they are drunk. Amitabha Buddha! How can there be such moments of exhilaration? In truth, prenatal and postnatal are originally not two different things. The distinctions between them are only the discriminating thoughts of the postnatal mind. Once distinctions arise, movement and stillness can no longer unite, and prenatal Qi transforms into postnatal Qi. When they can unite, postnatal Qi is prenatal Qi; there is no before or after. To think that there is a before and after is simply the discriminating consciousness at work. When the mind of distinction grows strong, postnatal consciousness flares up, giving rise to confused and scattered thoughts.

That which cannot be spoken or named is ancestral Qi (the fundamental primordial Qi)—that is, the Dao’s original substance. Once the substance is established, its function begins to operate. Substance and function cannot be separated, but this does not mean they are indistinct. Those who have realized this for themselves naturally understand; those who have not remain outsiders speaking from beyond the gate.

Question: What is the difference between the prenatal and the postnatal?

Answer: Whatever depends on something or clings to something belongs to the postnatal. What has no dependence and no attachment is prenatal. Where should we seek the prenatal? Within the postnatal. Postnatal feelings and consciousness can also be the wondrous functioning of the prenatal. One should begin by investigating the practice of aligning with the pattern of the Dao, which brings body and mind into accord with its principles. In this practice, body and mind have already settled into stillness and become empty and clear, but they have not yet been fully clarified and still contain turbidity. Through prolonged, integrated refinement, these impurities gradually dissolve. Without deliberately seeking clarity, the mind and its surroundings naturally become clear. Only then can the Golden Elixir—the state attained through Neidan cultivation—be said to be complete.

Question: The alchemical scriptures speak of “Tun in the morning, Meng in the evening.” What does this mean?

Answer: “Tun in the morning, Meng in the evening” is only a metaphor for the advancing and retreating changes in the firing times—the timing and degree of refinement—during cultivation. These changes can appear in an instant. It does not mean that one must use the Tun hexagram in the morning and the Meng hexagram in the evening. The principles of the hidden mechanism are difficult to understand, so I will explain their meaning directly.

Another question: What do union, ascent and descent, and inversion mean?

He replied, “These principles are all connected by a single thread. Once you penetrate even one of them, your whole being can come alive, as though your head and feet had been turned around and you could even tread upon Heaven and Earth. A Daoist who is free and unbound can reach the essential purpose I speak of.”

He was asked, “What do ‘joining,’ ‘rising and descending,’ and ‘reversal’ mean?”

He replied, “These principles are all connected by a single thread. Once you penetrate even one of them, your whole being can come alive, as though your head and feet had been turned around and you could even tread upon Heaven and Earth. A free and unbound Daoist still possesses the knowledge and ability to govern Heaven and Earth, overturn seas, and move mountains. Ah, what vastness this realm holds! How could worldly affairs confine such a person’s mind? Only because people’s minds are deluded and attached to their own views do they keep breaking with convention and setting up new doctrines.”

He was asked, “Why can’t we be in control of ourselves at night?”

He replied, “By day, we are governed by the discriminating mind of consciousness, the cognitive spirit (shishen). At night, the cognitive spirit lies dormant, and seeds of harmful thoughts accumulated over time but not yet dissolved emerge when conditions bring them forth. To change this, one must follow a path of practice that breaks free at once and severs these patterns completely.”

He was asked, “Must greed, anger, delusion, and desire all be eliminated before one can cultivate the Dao?”

He replied, “Though this is so, there is another side to it. Greed, anger, delusion, and desire are also one way our original nature expresses itself; this is what is called emotion. When people are beguiled by emotion and desire and cannot see their original nature, they are ordinary, deluded people. But those who know only original nature and deny the workings of emotion become lifeless and inert, sunk in emptiness. My teaching is flexible and all-embracing; it does not cling to one side. It links Heaven and Earth, past and present, sees all things as equal to oneself, and makes no distinction between enemy and friend. Even in the bustle of the city, one can be as if in a deep mountain, moving freely within a pure realm. The Great Awakened Golden Immortal—the Buddha whose awakening is complete—has no stain or fault, yet is also utterly free and joyful. A lotus can grow from mud, and in the snap of a finger one can awaken suddenly, going beyond every stage of study and practice. Could Guanyin Bodhisattva, with a thousand hands and a thousand feet, embody nothing more than an ordinary, minor principle?”

He was asked, “What does it mean to investigate things and fully fathom their underlying principles?”

Someone asked, “It is certainly good to encounter things and investigate their principles, but there are so many things, and some are difficult to investigate thoroughly. If we grasp the fundamental principle, we can understand the many differences as one. Can you make distinctions while not distinguishing? And can you remain undivided while making distinctions? Do not fall into one-sided attachment. Habitual tendencies certainly need to be removed, but the first priority is to understand the principle. Once the principle is understood, habitual tendencies will naturally fade without deliberate effort. Why trouble yourself to remove them? If you try to remove them deliberately and still cannot, you will only waste your effort. To encounter things and investigate their principles, when applied to the mind, means striving to observe the mind within. This itself is already an investigation of principle; there is no need to treat observing the mind and investigating principle as two separate things. Begin by observing with focused attention, and you will naturally understand what is really happening.”

When the mind is free of selfish thoughts, it becomes open and expansive. When the spirit is clear and at ease, one reaches a state like that of a Buddha or an immortal. It is only because a trace of stray thought still remains in the mind that one is like an iron pillar sunk deep into the earth, unable to break free of its bonds.

Therefore, you must observe the mind and see your original nature for yourself. Only then can your fundamental attachments loosen, the wish to escape worldly bonds arise, and the opening to the right path be found. Otherwise, if you do not even know where you have gone wrong, how can you renew yourself, influence others, and thereby understand the principle that runs through all things? Everyone, be quiet for a moment and observe your own mind.

After they had observed their minds, someone said, “The thought in this very moment is itself the forest monastery where we practice. Where else could we look for prajna (wisdom)?”

Someone asked, “What is external practice?”

The reply was, “Internal practice is observation; external practice is holding to the One (guarding the spirit and keeping the mind focused). You may take a single phrase, or a koan (a question or episode used in Chan practice for contemplation), and investigate it. When you cultivate both inwardly and outwardly, your body and mind will naturally become imbued with spiritual vitality, which will show throughout your body, in your face, and along your back. You need only observe a particular object, without undertaking any other external practice, and your body will nevertheless grow stronger of its own accord. This is an example.”

Someone asked, “If our nature is the same but our emotions differ, how should we understand this?”

In reply: There is no difference in qing—emotional awareness and activity. People have simply grown accustomed to this state without noticing it. Emotional awareness has flowed on continuously to the present, becoming tainted and making its source difficult to trace. This is not the fault of one’s original nature, the fundamental nature within a person. Original nature needs no words; what is there to trace? Even when it is spoken of, it remains within the bounds of original nature. Have you not heard? Water may be clear or muddy, but both share the quality of being wet. Clear water is wet; surely muddy water is wet as well. Clear and muddy differ, but the quality of wetness does not. Focus your inquiry steadily in one place. In time, you will naturally come to sudden understanding. Make an effort.

Furthermore, qing is nature, and nature is qing. Consider an archer: the bow and arrow are, after all, objects. Their action depends entirely on the responsive workings of the moment. How could fixed concepts grasp them clearly? This is difficult to anticipate. As the arrow flies, its working has not left the bow; once it leaves the bow, it no longer functions in the same way. This is an analogy for “form itself is emptiness”—phenomena and emptiness are not separate from each other. Do you understand?

Question: Is what is innate prior to Jing, Qi, and Shen?

Reply: No. You know only the Dao of purity and Wuwei (non-action), but you do not yet understand the natural workings of Yin-Yang. Yin and Yang are not isolated from one another. If Heaven and Earth were separated from the myriad things, what would they be? They could no longer be Heaven and Earth. Heaven contains the myriad things, yet can they obscure Heaven in the slightest? Look at what is before you: the myriad things stand together in profusion. How have they ever hindered emptiness and clarity? It is through the myriad things that emptiness and clarity become manifest. This is the true character of the Great Dao.

Question: Meditating on Chan.

Reply: To meditate on Chan, you must give rise to doubt and inquire with single-minded focus. The myriad things stand together in profusion. How have they ever hindered emptiness and clarity? It is through the myriad things that emptiness and clarity become manifest. This is the true character of the Great Dao.

Question: Meditating on Chan.

Answer: In Chan practice, one must give rise to doubt and a spirit of inquiry. Only through doubt can one awaken; without it, it is difficult to realize the Dao. This genuine sense of doubt is especially hard to arouse. In ancient times, many seekers of the Dao spent years diligently serving and working alongside a good teacher—someone with practical experience in cultivation who could guide them. Later, on hearing just one or two ordinary words, they suddenly awakened. Such people were not uncommon.

Chan is very good in itself, but one must know how to investigate it properly. Those who do not know how to investigate are prone to the pitfalls of Chan: they disdain everything and imagine themselves on a level with the Buddhas, though in reality they have no genuine attainment at all. You should investigate it carefully.

Do you know? The highest level of Buddhist practice is described as if one could leap straight into the clouds, or travel a thousand miles on a lame leg. But if you take these words to mean that practice can reach its goal in a single bound, that is only a delusion in your own mind, not the true path of Buddhist practice. Buddhists speak from the highest level so that people may understand the ultimate reaches of practice; they do not mean for people to remain in a state of half-understanding with nothing firm to rely on. Their words are meant to guide sentient beings with compassion. If you think that you can go from the first steps of practice to the final goal in a day, and refuse to persevere, cultivate yourself, overcome your habits, and repeatedly refine your practice, then you may end up like an ordinary person who never awakens on their own, even in old age, and is scorned by the sages.

Question: It is difficult to attain a state of emptiness, stillness, and oneness, deep and serene. What should I do?

Answer: Emptiness, stillness, and depth cannot be achieved all at once. If you think you understand how to be still, your mind may become even less still. If you have no idea what stillness is, your mind will likewise fail to settle, like a pool of muddy water. If you can make your mind even a little more empty and still, you will gain a little more ease and freedom. This is a gradual method of cultivation. How many people can truly awaken all at once? People need to speak of cultivation because their ingrained habits are so deeply rooted and hard to change. From now on, carefully examine your thoughts and apply yourself to the work. Since everything is transformation and illusion, and nothing is real, what, in the end, counts as real? Keep following this path, and one day you will break through the crucial barrier and completely overturn your old understanding of body and mind. Only then will you have begun to find the way into cultivation.

Someone then asked: If everything is transformation and illusion, and nothing is real, should we cut it all off completely?

Answer: There is no need to cut off everything that is illusory. It can also serve as an aid to cultivation. All kinds of plants and trees can be used as medicinal ingredients; mixed with honey and made into pills, they can be refined into the Herbal Elixir of Return (a pill made from herbal ingredients). Without plants, the medicine cannot be made; without medicine, illness cannot be treated. How could you remove them all? In dealing with petty people, it is better to guide and reform them than to sever ties with them outright. Cutting them off completely may instead invite trouble. The same principle applies to cultivation.

Someone else asked, “What does it mean for the feet and head to turn upside down?”

I replied, “This ‘turning upside down’ means that body and mind undergo a transformation. You can see this change when old attachments and doubts melt away like ice and crumble like roof tiles. The Confucians speak of being at ease in one’s feelings, seeing things run smoothly, and having doubts dissolve like ice; they mean something similar. Yet people differ in strength, in the depth of their practice, in how early or late they understand, and in whether their natural abilities are keen or dull. Chan Buddhism says, ‘Until the great matter is understood, one feels as though one’s parents have died.’ If so, why, once the great matter is understood, should one still grieve as though one’s parents had died?”

I also said, “Cultivating the Dao is not just sitting in meditation in a quiet room. Sitting alone in a room may actually intensify the restlessness in your mind. You must practice while walking, standing, sitting, and lying down. Then you can be at the summit of a thousand peaks while your mind remains amid the bustle of the marketplace. Can you understand what I mean?”

Someone asked, “Without enough wisdom, it is hard to realize the Dao.”

I replied, “What is there to be lacking? If we speak of human nature, it is originally complete and without deficiency; it needs no addition and suffers no loss. But if we speak of stages of cultivation and the work involved, then there can indeed be shortcomings. Where do these shortcomings come from? It is like clear water that becomes polluted over time and turns muddy. Even when left to settle, it is hard to make clear; the more it is stirred, the muddier it becomes. This is why people speak of cultivation. To cultivate is to correct one’s conduct. When conduct is corrected, one’s nature is cultivated as well.”

Someone else asked, “Must one attain the ‘Great Perfect Mirror Wisdom’—a Buddhist term for pure, unobstructed wisdom that sees all things as they are—in order to realize the Dao?”

I replied, “It is only a name. ‘Great’ means without bounds; ‘perfect’ means wisdom that reaches everywhere; ‘mirror’ means light that shines everywhere; and ‘wisdom’ means freedom from self-interest. There is no actual round mirror. Do not cling to the metaphor.”

Someone else asked, “What is the difference between consciousness and wisdom?”

Answer: What is called “awareness” is “wisdom.” For ordinary people it is called awareness; for immortals and Buddhas, it is called wisdom. The difference lies only in whether the mind is pure or impure.

Question: When the Three Times—past, present, and future—have all been cut off, does the functioning of the acquired state also disappear?

Answer: That is not so. Even when the Three Times are cut off, the functioning of the acquired state does not vanish entirely. Cultivation should follow the Middle Way. Many processes of generation and transformation still take place, tempering and purifying the habits that remain. If everything were completely eliminated, there would be no process of generation and transformation, making it difficult to uproot deeply ingrained habits of consciousness. This is a special method I have transmitted. Even the gods of the heavens may not understand its mysteries, much less those whose learning is shallow! If you do not enter the realm that transcends the Five Phases—the five forces traditionally understood to constitute all things in Heaven and Earth—where can you seek the true aim? The dragon’s path is not the little trail taken by a rabbit; shallow grass is no deep mountain peak.

Question: What is “vitality”?

Answer: Abundant, overflowing vitality is a state of great animation and responsiveness. Without this lively vitality, one cannot adequately aid the cultivation of the Dao.

Question: What is “knife-tip measure”?

Answer: “Knife-tip measure” refers to the faint pulse of the channels. First, one must take the “soul-restoring elixir,” a metaphorical term in Daoist internal alchemy.

Question: Things that are illusory and changing are not real. How should this be understood?

Answer: Do you know what illusion is? Recognizing it as illusion lets you leave it behind. The wondrous awareness of true emptiness—pure and luminous awareness—was never lost; it is only that people’s time and thoughts have become fragmented. See through the illusory forms and recognize that they have no fixed substance, and you can experience the continuous flow of the true and constant nature. This flow of the true and constant does not depend on the mind of consciousness guarding it moment by moment.

Let go of one method, and all methods will become clear; step forward on the path of plum blossoms atop the head. Stop, stop, stop—another immortal reaches out to support you. Ragged clothes and begging in poverty are not a way to peddle spirit talismans. Spit, spit, spit; purity and Wuwei (non-action) are the foundation.

Question: How can one cultivate oneself with ease and freedom?

Answer: Cultivating oneself with ease and freedom is a process of transformation. There is small transformation on a small scale and great transformation on a large scale; through transformation, one can communicate with the spirit. Only after transformation can one speak of the wondrous realm.

Question: What is the difference between the prenatal and postnatal states?

Answer: The postnatal condition—the human awareness and state of life acquired after birth—does not depart from the prenatal condition, the state of our original source. The prenatal is also present within the postnatal; the two were one from the beginning. Clouds and mist lie between them: people see the clouds and lose sight of the sky. But when I see the clouds, I know the sky is there too. So clouds and mist are no obstacle.

Question: How should we understand “cultivation through illusion,” treating practice as illusory while continually nurturing and refining oneself through it?

Answer: This practice may seem illusory, yet its realization cannot be attained lightly. The efficacy of practice is itself the work of cultivation. Do you understand?

Question: What is the true seed?

Answer: When the mind returns to emptiness and one does not deliberately say what the true seed is, that itself is the true seed. The Tathāgatagarbha, the fundamental ground inherent in all beings that can contain and manifest awakening, holds limitless potential for generation.

Question: What does the seabed symbolize?

Answer: The seabed symbolizes the depths of the human mind. Only when the waters have dried up can the seabed finally be seen. Yet even after death, a person may not understand their own mind. The proper course is to investigate deeply the mind’s hidden subtleties.

Further question: What are the depths of the mind?

Answer: Only with far-reaching thought can one travel far. Only by traveling far can one reach the source of creation and transformation. With that source, one can speak of changing the workings of creation; and only by being able to change them can one turn Heaven’s Heart—the root of the cosmos’s operation—silently and imperceptibly. Shallow practice cannot realize a profound state. Thus some people speak only of what lies on the surface and take it to be the highest realm.

“The Venerable One who travels far remains unmoving; the subtle principle is hard to express. Everywhere, birdsong can be heard; I walk deep among the mountain flowers.”

Question: In the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, the “Seven Places of Inquiry into the Mind” has the Buddha ask, one by one, where the mind is. Where, then, is the true mind?

Answer: It is precisely in the place of “not knowing.” This does not mean complete ignorance: there is awareness, but it does not fall into distinction-making or attachment.

Further question: What is the abiding true mind?

Answer: No activity of consciousness can take it as an object; this is what it means to abide. Awareness remains even without attachment to recognition; this is wisdom. When distinctions arise and the mind’s thoughts race outward, one falls into the cycle of rebirth and becomes an ordinary person.

Question: Where, ultimately, does the mind abide?

The answer was: The mind has no fixed location. If you decide that the mind is somewhere in particular, somewhere you can point to, that is the deluded mind. When deluded thoughts fall away, the true mind becomes manifest. Can you see me now?

Someone asked again: My mind is always unsettled. What should I do?

The answer was: Where in the mind is there a ready-made patch of stillness? You must seek stillness amid this unrest. When the mind seems still, stray thoughts may arise again. If you can remain unattached to both stillness and stray thoughts, you have truly attained stillness.

Someone asked: What is the mind?

The answer was: What is not the mind? No-mind is the mind. Clinging to the existence of a mind prevents openness and understanding; pursuing no-mind single-mindedly leads into emptiness. Neither cling to having a mind nor cling to having no mind. Dwelling between being and nonbeing is what is meant here by “no-mind as mind.”

Someone asked again: What is the true mind?

The answer was: The true mind has no fixed form. As soon as you identify it with a particular form, you fall into illusion. Yet the true mind is not wholly unrelated to form: it is not confined to form, but can appear in the forms of all things. Physical forms and colors, innate nature, and the learning of sages and worthies all connect with this.

Someone asked again: Should we seek the true mind at the source of the mind?

The answer was: When the source of the mind is clear and still, the principles of Heaven become manifest, and daily conduct can accord naturally with the Dao (the Way), without obstruction. When the source of the mind is not clear and still, even what you perceive is like a lamp flame in the wind, flickering and confused. How could that be constant and true? Do not mistake the deluded mind for the true mind. The true mind is bright, clear, pure, and without pretense; it can therefore reach through Heaven and Earth without the slightest falsehood. It is not a mixture of alchemical substances such as copper and lead, nor is it seeing the moon beyond the clouds and imagining that you have mastered cultivation. But where, in the end, can this capacity for seeing be found? The more deliberately you search for it, the less you find it. The Dao is right before your eyes, yet people fail to recognize it, and merely pore over the ground with a hoe in hand.

Someone asked: What is true emptiness and wondrous being?

Someone asked, “When the mind is empty, yet not utterly devoid of anything, this is called ‘true emptiness.’ When the mind contains all things yet clings to none of them as real, this is called ‘wondrous presence.’ Do not cling to either side; only then can you enter the Middle Way and lay the foundation for cultivating De.”

Someone asked, “My understanding is very shallow. Please show me how to look more deeply within.”

The reply was, “Your understanding is not shallow. People differ in how deeply they understand the ways of cultivating the mind. Faced with the same words, those who understand deeply can discern their deeper meaning, while those who understand less will explain them according to their own understanding. This, too, is where entering the Middle Way and cultivating De begin.”

Someone else asked, “My understanding is very shallow. Please show me how to look more deeply within.”

The reply was, “Your understanding is not shallow. There is no fixed standard for how deeply one must go in cultivating the mind. Given the same words, some discern a deeper meaning while others offer only a surface reading; there is no set method for grasping their underlying principles in a fully integrated way. Still, striving to explore more deeply when one’s understanding is limited is part of a student’s practice. The depths are nowhere else: they are right before you. Differences in understanding are what make them seem deep or shallow. If you could see your original nature all at once, what layers of depth and shallowness, heights and lows, thickness and thinness would there be left to explore? Yet those who have not awakened find this difficult to explain clearly. And if I went on speaking as I do, people might mistakenly think they had risen above others—as though one somersault could carry them all the way to the Western Heaven.”

Someone asked, “How can I have not a single concern in my mind?”

The reply was, “There has never been a single thing for you to cling to. To be free of all attachment is to reach the utmost purity. When purity is complete, the mind’s light is clear and steady: you have attained the fruition of practice. Do not take this lightly.”

The reply continued, “Polish away the impurities in the mind, so that perception and understanding connect without obstruction, and return to the one, true nature. Within Bodhi, the state of awakening, purity reaches its utmost; it is bright and steady, like a blazing flame rising into the sky and illuminating boundless worlds. How could words ever express this state completely?”

Someone asked, “What is the emptiness of the person—the understanding that the self has no fixed substance?”

The reply was, “Practitioners of the fixed-state Śrāvaka path, who cling to set stages of practice and seek only their own liberation, have not yet reached Chan, though theirs is the first level within the Chan tradition. Only when mind and spirit are settled, luminous, and clear can you know what it means for them to scatter. Recognize this ‘person’ and you can enter the higher vehicle. Until then, do not speak of the transformed vehicle or the vehicle of the Dharma, nor talk idly of ‘the emptiness of the person’ or ‘emptying the person.’”

Someone asked, “Ultimately, is it…”

Answer: Those of fixed disposition among the śrāvakas—practitioners who cling to stillness and are content with the fruits of the Lesser Vehicle—have not yet reached true meditation, though they have entered its first stage. By stilling the spirit and gathering Jing (essence), so that inner light shines forth, one can understand what this scattered, unsettled consciousness really is. Only after recognizing this consciousness can one enter a higher state. Until then, there is no point speaking of transforming consciousness, advancing one’s attainment, or expounding ideas such as “the emptiness of the person.”

Question: At root, does it all come down to the word “nonbeing”?

Answer: It cannot be summed up as either “being” or “nonbeing.” Cultivation proceeds from shallow to deep and must follow its proper stages. The principle is always the same, but the work has different levels. There is a “nonbeing” that comes from truly attaining the state, and there is a “nonbeing” that comes from not yet attaining it. These distinctions must be examined carefully.

Question: Is every manifestation of golden light the same?

Answer: When the golden light is complete, it is the same; but the extent of its manifestation differs from the outset. A small attainment produces a small spirit; a great attainment produces a great spirit. Each receives a corresponding fruit according to its merits. Some leave the path partway through their cultivation yet may still enter the spirit realm or the realm of the immortals. The state they reach depends on the depth of their practice; it is not the same for everyone.

Question: What does the Golden Elder mean? This image is used in cultivation to represent the transformation of consciousness.

Answer: The Golden Elder is the discriminating consciousness—the mind that distinguishes and thinks—liberating itself through its own nature. This self-liberation means transforming the discriminating consciousness; that is the Golden Elder.

A further question: Does “gold” mean true Jing (essence)?

Answer: Here, “gold” means a state of purity without admixture; it does not mean worldly metal. To the extent that emptiness and stillness are attained, fullness is attained as well. Once fullness is reached, radiance arises, as though gold had been refined in a furnace. Yet refinement must continue: the more it is refined, the purer it becomes, and the purer it becomes, the brighter it shines. Through prolonged cultivation, the discriminating consciousness can be transformed into the wisdom of a Buddha, symbolized by the fragrant sea and compassionate clouds, and by Amitābha Buddha’s compassion and wisdom.

Question: What are the Three Passes, the three points or stages described in cultivation?

Answer: The Three Passes are originally one pass, with no divisions into before and after, above and below. If one insists on distinguishing them, one confines them to a fixed location; that is not Constant Still Radiance, a Buddhist term for the ever-pure, all-pervading state. Constant Still Radiance is like a compass: though east, west, north, and south change, its bearing does not. It is also like the handle of the Dipper slanting across the clouds. In the deep stillness of night, the drum sounds thud after thud. Where the light flashes is beyond human control, startling the soul and spirit awake from their dreams.

A further question: What is the Upper Palace?

The “Upper Palace” (Shanggong) seems to have no form or location; precisely because it has neither, it can be called a palace. Though the Three Passes cannot be divided according to a fixed sequence, there are still three distinct levels in which the fruits of cultivation become apparent. To open the Three Passes is to attain a high level of practice and a noble standing; heavenly flowers descend everywhere, and in the end all returns to clear emptiness. Once one reaches “utter emptiness,” its effects are inexhaustible. To understand the root of life through one’s own nature is true practice; it cannot be forced through human effort. Deep cultivation of prajna (wisdom) naturally brings forth wondrous states. Yet what is called wondrous does not mean that anything truly strange appears; it is simply the transformation that occurs when Yin-Yang, Dragon, and Tiger merge. Within one state there are further states—how could ordinary words explain them? Without the slightest deliberate effort, it is like brocade woven by nature. Once the root of life is understood, one can see the reversals and cycles of transformation as a unified whole. Yang Qi lies concealed, then is about to emerge from the valley; in stillness, a sound like thunder suddenly rings out. Where lightning flashes, the true seed can be found. Beyond this level of practice, one must continue to make progress: this is the great work of cultivation.

Where in the five thousand words of the Daodejing or the three hundred characters of the Yinfu Jing is there a single line that calls for petty, surface-level interpretation? Later generations passed errors from one to another and lost their original true nature. Because they did not seek the root of life within themselves, some took to burning straw and manipulating the firing process, while others circulated Jing and Qi and moved the breath. Breath regulation and breath counting, too, are merely methods later generations used to gather and focus the spirit.

Question: After long and sustained cultivation, does golden light appear from outside?

Answer: One can see what is inside and outside only after the Mysterious Pass—the crucial point at which the inner mechanism of cultivation manifests—has been established. If the Mysterious Pass has not been established, it is like trying to heat an empty pot with water and fire: nothing comes of it. When the Mysterious Pass is opened, the Celestial Heart—the clear and bright place of one’s nature—appears. This is neither a state of becoming lost in a dark cavern nor an apparition of ghosts and spirits.

Question: The scriptures say, “The moon appears in the Geng direction.” Is this a metaphor for light beginning to appear, though it has not yet fully revealed itself?

Answer: Yes.

“Awareness that is lucid and clear, lively and undeluded”—Daoists regard it as the key to beginning cultivation. Buddhists, by contrast, consider it the root of transmigration and call it “pure karma,” a purified karmic cause.

Question: What counts as entering meditative absorption?

Answer: Look.

Question: What counts as entering meditative absorption?

Answer: When the mind does not cling to any fixed opinion and the spirit gathers into unity, that is absorption. It is like a compass: I need not hold it in my hand; it turns east or west in response to my intention. All kinds of worldly circumstances may appear, yet they no longer seem to have any special flavor. Still, they remain as they were in the days of that single flower. Flower, flower, flower—the fruit forms upon the flower. The fruit cannot be seen within the flower, and this is precisely what reveals the realm of the fruit. The principle that cause and effect interpenetrate is the principle spoken of by the immortals. Buddhism and Daoism are originally without distinction; only people’s views differ. Return to pure De (Virtue/Power), crystalline and clear, and no more flowers will bloom.

Question: What does “the whole body is hands and eyes” mean?

Answer: “Hands and eyes” is a living expression. Do not cling to its literal meaning and investigate it as though it were lifeless words. Dead words contain no living meaning; living principles cannot be confined within a single phrase.

Question: Must luminosity be extinguished?

Answer: Luminosity cannot be extinguished. The light of the sun and moon shines everywhere upon all things, yet has it ever clung to even the slightest thing? Those who cultivate the Dao should let go of their attachments to both mind and worldly affairs, because the world is fundamentally upside down. Half empty and half real, there is subtle delight within the void; half present and half absent, one is free. There are places where nothing is said and places where words are spoken. Their subtle workings must be carefully experienced.

When this is understood, a whole world suddenly opens up within the space of the heart, and dawn clouds appear across half the sky. The wondrous workings of the pivotal opening are difficult to grasp; even ghosts and spirits cannot discern where they come from, much less human beings.

Question: What does it mean when something begins to emerge during seated meditation?

Answer: Whose jade casket has opened a new mirror, revealing a glimmer of clear light? Once you see through this principle, you will no longer be confused. Let others speak on and on; I use one fundamental principle to connect everything.

Question: “Returning the light to its source” (gathering the mind and spirit that scatter outward and turning awareness back upon oneself) is the ferry that carries one beyond the sea of suffering in life and death. “Refining the body with jade fluid” (a practice described through images such as the body’s own fluids) is a subtle metaphor for using water to control fire. As for the human mind’s awareness, its basis is one, but it functions in two ways. One is awareness that flickers up by chance amid dullness, like a flash of lightning, or like hearing with the ears and seeing with the eyes. The other arises naturally, as sounds enter the ears and things appear before the eyes of their own accord: it makes no deliberate effort, yet responds to everything; it is confined to no single place, yet is present everywhere. As soon as a thought arises, the mind and spirit clearly perceive it. The Book of Changes says, “To perceive the subtle beginnings—is that not spiritual?” This awareness seems to come from nowhere. To respond constantly to things while keeping the mind at peace—is this the supreme state called the “True Person of Wuwei”?

Answer: Your metaphors are right, but you must still verify them in your own mind and understand them for yourself.

Question: The eyes are what govern the circulation of Qi (vital energy). The eyes are a Yang aperture, and the Dao (the Way) is right before us. Though the eyes can see and the ears can hear, true awareness transcends movement and stillness; it is where the human mind naturally abides. Unless discriminating thoughts and perceptions dissolve, the eyes cannot become clear; unless the eyes become clear, those perceptions cannot dissolve. Is that right?

Answer: You have largely seen through one barrier, but breaking through one brings you to another. Practice has its stages, and what matters is not becoming attached or stuck. Silence and gentleness are the true strength. Listen to the bell while lying down; walk toward the Buddha’s Way.

Another question: Are the eyes the true mind?

Answer: No. The eyes are only illusory images of light, used to detect Yin forces and guide the circulation of Qi. If you take the eyes themselves to be the mysterious aperture or the most precious treasure, you know only the shallow meaning and miss the deeper one.

Question: You once taught: “The heart and mind are broad and free; though filled with ardent passion, they do not stain the world with foulness. In the heart of blazing fire, a golden lotus is forged, like offering up every coin on the plate. Step by step, one walks in the precelestial, no longer pulled along by postcelestial conditions.” I respectfully ask: How should we understand the saying that “the mountains and rivers of the great earth are all my Dharma body—the body that embodies the Great Dao—and the impure, evil world of the Five Turbidities, filled with affliction and pollution, is also a pure place of practice; acting with compassion and wisdom, and allowing the One Qi, the original precelestial vital energy, to flow and function naturally, one may attain a body born of mind, reveal the precelestial original nature and the wisdom-life that remains unspoiled through countless kalpas, like money scattered everywhere”?

Answer: You must verify it for yourself before you can understand. What is meant here by “meeting the occasion” reaches the utmost depth of principle. Few people walk the ancient, vast path of the Great Dao, yet these words also unfold the springtime of the earth. The saha world, where sentient beings dwell, is wholly contained within it. Why, then, speak of quietly closing the door at dusk?

Question: I entered the path by listening through the ear faculty.

Answer: Purity of the ear faculty is the Great Being’s all-embracing Dharma gate, a path of practice that uses hearing to reach perfect integration and understanding. If you realize the truth through this, you can cultivate through listening and become familiar with all illusory samadhi, states of meditative concentration. This is to merge into the ocean of Vairocana’s nature, the vast Dharma-nature symbolized by Vairocana Buddha. The face of the Qianyuan, the true face of the original precelestial source, lies nowhere outside this.

When the six faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are purified, the wondrous nature of pure essence is revealed. You must turn back toward the stillness of Suchness. Its substance is stillness; its function is contemplation. Only when stillness and contemplation are united can they be called “One.” Know that stillness and contemplation cannot be fused into one without great power of concentration. In stillness, there is contemplation; in contemplation, there is stillness. The wondrous nature of pure essence must return to the stillness of Suchness. Its substance is stillness; its function is contemplation. Only when stillness and contemplation are united can they be called “One.” Know that stillness and contemplation cannot be fused into one without great power of concentration. Within stillness there is contemplation, and within contemplation there is stillness. Stillness and contemplation are both empty from the outset, and emptiness itself is stillness and contemplation. Stillness upon stillness ultimately comes to a point where there is no such thing as stillness; that is true stillness. Yet true stillness is not nothingness. Only when stillness can go no further is it truly still. As for how contemplation and stillness are mutually present and interwoven, there is no need to cling to distinctions. The principles of Chan require deep investigation; the mysteries of the Dao are not easily traced.

The Dao is right before us, yet the principles before our eyes are often hard to see clearly. People delight in strange and novel things and so miss what is right at hand, not knowing where the Dao is to be found. The Dao is here in this very moment. If we cannot experience the present moment, our thoughts drift away and race outward. Thoughts remain beyond our control because our spiritual strength is insufficient; that weakness, in turn, comes from the mind and spirit scattering and wandering.

The sun and moon in their courses, appearing and disappearing, both embody the Supreme Dao—the highest principle. It is calm and profound, like the foundation of Heaven; deep and remote, like the beginning from which all things arose. The Dao’s workings are subtle and unfathomable, yet bright and manifest. Only through observing it day after day, over time, can one discover its true signs. Those signs are found in ordinary, level places. They are not hidden only in seated meditation, though they must be experienced and attained in stillness.

Question: “The subtle principle is difficult to comprehend.”

Answer: “What is difficult to comprehend? It is only difficult to see the crown mark—the sacred appearance that manifests atop the head.”

Another question: “How can one pass through the crucial turning point?”

Answer: “The words that turn the pivot are found only by examining and refining the root again and again. When refinement has brought both ends to an end and emptied both sides, then, in emptiness and stillness, one can see the Patriarch and the Lineage—the source and transmission of the Way—and truly enter perfect, unhindered realization.”

The many virtues and adornments of cultivation are the wondrous workings of Bodhi, the path of awakening. The radiance of a single numinous light, by contrast, is the aspect of the Immortal Way that transforms without limit. Breaking free of bonds and surpassing the world, the jeweled moon of the East shines over mountains and rivers. I have just passed through Mount Hua, yet the ascetic practitioner there knows nothing of it. The Buddha’s power is vast and boundless; the Dao and Buddhism each have their own distinctions and cannot be treated as one and the same. Alas! Though spirits and ghosts can discern everything, they cannot fathom the place where my mind remains unmoved. From now on, I know the One and no longer know the Two.

Because there is no attachment to distinctions, nothing is beyond understanding. Yet although one knows everything, one does not cling to “knowing.” Contemplate and investigate this meaning, and it is not difficult to attain realization. In time, rich fragrances and strange flowers will purify whatever they touch. Ah, what great freedom this brings! It was through gratitude for my master’s kindness and guidance that I was able to reach this state. The numinous energy of the ancestors has gathered; filial devotion has reached its fulfillment, and the Heart of Heaven has returned. Looking again at worldly affairs, they seem like a dream within a dream. Compassion for living beings then arises, vast and boundless. All beings are originally within great awakening, yet they are deluded and unclear, unable to awaken. So one does not look down on them either: beings and sages are no different in essence; everything turns on a single thought.

Question: What is meant by “the precelestial”?

Answer: The mind is the precelestial. Once you awaken to this, you will not look down on beings, because beings and sages are no different in essence; everything turns on a single thought.

Question: What is meant by “the precelestial”?

Answer: The mind is the precelestial. “Precelestial” is defined in relation to “postcelestial”; it is a relative term. Only when the mind transcends all relative distinctions is it the True and Constant—the reality that does not change. This does not exclude the appearance and functioning of phenomena. The Shurangama Sutra, a Buddhist scripture, explains this clearly.

Another question: Does the mind’s transcendence of all relative distinctions mean “Wuji,” the boundless, undifferentiated source?

The reply said: What is called the “Limitless” (Wuji, the source without form or bounds) is “true emptiness”; what is called the “Supreme Limit” (Youji, the subtle principle as it appears) is “wondrous principle.” The Limitless is originally within the Supreme Limit; there is no separate Limitless beyond it. It encompasses Heaven and Earth without omission, accords with change and brings the myriad things to completion without lack, serves as the pivot of Yin-Yang transformation, and enables each thing to return to its root. This wondrous principle reaches its utmost point, yet cannot be seen. This describes the state before Heaven and Earth took shape, before primordial chaos divided; yet it also runs through things after chaos has formed.

There is no before or after within it, and yet one may speak of before and after. This cannot be understood through repeated chanting alone. If one grasps the principle of reversing and applying it, the mind can be transformed as yellow earth turns into gold. In this sense, what is called “pre-Heaven” is originally beyond words. But why, then, can “pre-Heaven” be spoken of at all? This concerns the distinction between sages and ordinary people: sages are pre-Heaven, while ordinary people belong to post-Heaven. From this perspective, pre-Heaven and post-Heaven can be discussed. Yet once pre-Heaven has been explained in words, both the pre-Heaven and post-Heaven being described have become post-Heaven; they cannot be called true pre-Heaven. What, then, is true pre-Heaven? It is formlessness. But formlessness does not exist in isolation; it must be made manifest through form. Form is the function of the formless, and the formless is the substance of form. Therefore, form is also formlessness. This is the wonder of movement and stillness joined as one, and it is the true emptiness within “true emptiness and wondrous being.”

Put this way, it sounds like heavenly flowers falling in profusion: rare, difficult to encounter, and wondrous. Yet this, too, belongs to the Chan Buddhist tradition of ancient Buddhas, with its incisive words and gestures.

Question: What method should one rely on in practice?

Answer: Rely on nothing external. Only by letting go of reliance can one see the true mind. The true mind is not without any support; rather, it is like ascending to the summit of Vairocana (the Vairocana Buddha; here, a metaphor for the highest state) and rising beyond ordinary supports. Old Chan masters and accomplished monks who guide others are indeed rare. Practice rests entirely on the one mind: there is no other method left over, and nothing remains unresolved.

Question: What is spiritual power?

Answer: To respond wondrously to the myriad things is called “spirit”; to be everywhere, with no place where it is absent, is called “pervasion.”

Question: What is the Reward Body (one of the Buddha’s three bodies, formed through the merit of practice)?

Answer: Practice rests entirely on the one mind: there is no other method left over, and nothing remains unresolved.

Someone asked, “What is the reward body—the perfected body attained through cultivation?”

The answer was: “Originally, there is no such thing as a ‘reward body.’ This is merely a name provisionally established to indicate perfection. If you take the reward body to be something that truly exists, you fall into the distinction between subject and object. Once divided into two sides, it is no longer one. Even when speaking of ‘one,’ you should not take this ‘one’ to be a fixed entity. True oneness is a state of stillness that is aware and luminous, beyond all distinctions.”

Someone then asked, “What is the Dharma body—the fundamental body spoken of in Buddhism and Daoism?”

The answer was: “The Dharma body is a way of speaking that gathers and encompasses the meanings of the various teachings, but it cannot be fully expressed in words.”

Someone asked whether the mind has a name.

The answer was: “The mind has no name to begin with. ‘Dao’ is also merely a name assigned provisionally. The Great Dao lies beyond forms, numbers, principles, and names expressed in language. How could a single name make it clear?”

Someone asked about life and death.

The answer was: “If you regard life and death as temporarily existing in appearance, then transform them into another kind of life and death, you still have not escaped life and death. Only by making no distinction between, and clinging to neither, this ‘illusory life and death’ nor the ‘transformed life and death’ can you go beyond the cycle of rebirth and return to empty stillness. Within empty stillness, there is nothing to ask about. I can speak only of its traces: like a leaf drifting with the wind, or an immortal who departs as though leaving no trace.”

Someone then asked, “What is meant by non-birth?”

The answer was: “Though there is birth, one does not cling to birth; this is why it is called non-birth. Non-birth is also like a tune: once you sing this ‘tune of non-birth,’ the world can no longer hear your traces.”

Someone then asked, “What is meant by non-birth?”

The answer was: “Though there is birth, one does not cling to birth; this is why it is called non-birth. Non-birth is also like a tune. Only when you sing it so that the world truly hears it as non-birth have you understood non-birth.”

Someone asked about spiritual resonance—the process in cultivation of responding to and drawing forth a particular vital essence or power.

The answer was: “Some obtain the essence of Great Yin, associated with the moon and Yin; others obtain the essence of Great Yang, associated with the sun and Yang. In truth, what they obtain is one and the same. It appears differently only because each person has a different innate capacity.”

The majestic Dao (the Way) transmitted by the Highest One is found in daily life and ordinary conduct. It has never been a way of life hidden away in some dark corner. Some take the physical body to be the Dharma body—the true body realized through cultivation—and devote themselves to making the breath and vital energies rise, believing this to be the basis for conceiving the embryo and giving birth to the infant, metaphors in internal alchemy for condensing the inner elixir and completing the work. They congratulate themselves on their supposed attainment, unaware that the Great Dao is like gold sifted from sand. The Golden Crow—the sun—flying into the Moon Toad’s cave describes the state before birth. How could those of shallow understanding glimpse its profound meaning?

Some cling to “being,” while others remain stalled in “emptiness”; neither understands the source of the Great Dao. One should first seek that source and truly see oneself as one was before the cosmic aeon of emptiness, when Heaven and Earth had not yet formed. Only then can one understand the transformations of the spirit dragon and the correspondence of Yin-Yang: clinging neither to being nor to emptiness. Wondrous being and true emptiness, true emptiness and wondrous being, can each appear in the tiniest places. The great and the small interpenetrate; the one and the many do not obstruct each other. Only at this point can one speak of work within the cauldron and furnace, metaphors for internal alchemy, and understand transcendence of death and rebirth. This is certainly not what those who speak idly about the matter mean.

Our teaching calls for each person to fulfill their own duties, act according to their station, and remain openhearted and upright. To stand tall in the world, fulfill one’s filial duties, and be wholly loyal is to ensure that one’s passage through this life has not been in vain and to leave a lasting, undying name. A heart free and unbound is immortal; a heart without burdens is Buddha; a heart without selfish thoughts is sage. Hold fast to the innate conscience and capacities everyone possesses. There is no need to seek outside oneself or fixate only on the physical body. After death, the body is just a heap of yellow earth; worthy and foolish alike meet the same end, and riches and rank ultimately come to the same thing. What, then, can be called “me”? Only this spark of numinous awareness within. It is like the bright moon in an autumn sky, like a clear, shining jeweled mirror; even amid a raging fire, it can bring forth a lotus. The Golden Immortals of the Western Way, those who have attained the Dao, need not imagine that they can reach it by forcibly eliminating distracting thoughts. Cultivate in this way, and incense, flowers, and fruits will naturally be complete and radiant.

Someone asked to enter seclusion for seven days and devote themselves wholeheartedly to upright cultivation.

The reply was: “I am busy, traveling in all directions, urging people to do good and turn away from evil, dispelling the dark energy that surges upward, and helping good results come to fruition.”

Answer: I am constantly on the move, traveling in every direction, urging people to do good and correct their faults, so that the dark, harmful energies rising upward may be dispelled and energies of light and goodness stirred into being. The teaching I have established is like the ocean: people of different circumstances can each receive it according to their abilities. To set aside seven days for cultivation is a rare blessing. How many times in a lifetime does one encounter such an opportunity? Surely my efforts come from a heartfelt wish. You may begin on the appointed day.

Question: “When beginning the seven days of cultivation, how should we request the merit?”

Answer: Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, remind yourself to keep the mind clear and alert at all times. Let your practice continue without interruption. There is no need to insist that you inquire into the matter only while seated and stop when you are not sitting. Still, when you sit down to cultivate, you should follow the prescribed rules; that goes without saying. Sit for three quarters of an hour and walk for one quarter. Eat at regular times, take care of your body, and adjust to the cold and warmth. When there is work to do, carry on as usual; doing the work itself is an opportunity to practice. The key is to keep asking: Where does this thought come from, and where does it go? See through the source from which thoughts arise and entangle you, and you can stride upward to the celestial realm of Yao. As for practices directed specifically at the physical body, there is no need to pursue them separately. The Dao I teach already includes cultivation of the body. When one point opens through, all points can open through; mountains, rivers, and the earth itself can all be regarded as part of your own being. And what is there to cling to in such impure things as the heart, liver, and other organs?

Today, I too must rouse myself and awaken you. If you have the good fortune to receive this teaching, experience and verify it for yourselves, and break through all these heterodox ways. What is the Great Dao? What is the learning of nature and life? Where should one begin to explain these principles? As for cultivating amid the four ordinary postures—walking, standing, sitting, and lying down—follow the rules and inquire into them broadly. I will offer a single inquiry, or “huatou,” as an example: Is it the ox that eats the grass, or the grass that eats the ox? How should we understand that being and nonbeing are originally not two? How do we distinguish movement from stillness? And how do we set aside both form and emptiness? Once they are set aside, do form and emptiness remain? Inquire into it.

Cultivation in purity differs from conduct tainted by desire. When discussing the state of cultivation, both ordinary people and sages should let go of distinctions and enter a realm of emptiness, clarity, and stillness. How should movement and stillness be understood? How can one let go of both form and emptiness? After letting them go, do form and emptiness still exist? This question calls for contemplation.

Cultivation in purity differs from conduct tainted by desire. As for the ultimate state, ordinary people and sages alike should let go of distinctions, their minds empty, clear, and still, like the vast, luminous sky. Then the lively, free Immortal will appear.

At birth, people receive the original Qi of Heaven and Earth, the fundamental energy from which all things arise, and through it their bodies take shape. Once consciousness develops, Yin and Yang have already divided. Human desires, worldly vanity, and circumstances of good and ill fortune, regret, and hardship then arrive in succession, while people often remain unaware. If the Qi of Yin and Yang is allowed to fall seriously out of balance, the original Qi becomes difficult to restore, and decline eventually follows. The Qi within the human body is the Qi of Heaven and Earth; it is not something an individual can claim as their own. It follows its own principle. Good deeds lead to good results, while evil deeds bring evil consequences. Those who sink into evil may fall among other kinds of beings. How the hun and po souls disperse, how deeply one responds to influences, and how different people fare cannot be treated as though they were all the same. In general, millet does not grow from grain, and a phoenix does not nurse a foal: each has its own nature. What matters is the direction a person takes.

People differ in their natural endowments, some being clever and others dull. Does that mean each person must receive a different share of innate capacity? Those of lesser ability fall short, but why do the clever sometimes go too far? This reflects the principle of the Middle Way. The worthy and the foolish may seem far apart, yet if the worthy have not reached the true state, they may in fact be no wiser than the foolish. Each person can consider this for themselves.

Since I established this teaching, I have used different methods for people of different capacities. I always begin by seeing whether they are sincere, and by observing each person’s responses and inclinations. I came here through profound karmic ties, traveling far and wide across the four seas and nine regions, in order to point out today a ladder of cultivation and a vessel for ferrying people across. Know that what I teach is an upright and luminous Way, not the doings of ghosts, demons, or heretical forces. It dispels false teachings and sets people’s hearts aright, ultimately bringing them to a state of balance and peace, kindness and harmony.

This Way does not rigidly confine people like birds in a cage. Nor is it a deviant path, a withered and empty form of Chan, or the deliberate keeping of austere precepts while neglecting one’s time and livelihood in order to boast of one’s lofty purity. The Great Way is broad, open, and bright, like the courses of the sun and moon; the highest Way can be embodied everywhere, and now is the time for it to be made manifest. Even promoting the teaching throughout the world with splendid, dignified ceremonial regalia need not be considered extravagant. When the time calls for frugality, simplicity is equally fitting. Even with only an incense burner and a small table, gathering two or three people who meet one another with sincere reverence, the setting is not too humble. Abundance and restraint alike should suit the occasion and remain well balanced. One should also broaden one’s vision and not cling to what lies immediately before one. A man of true stature should hold a thousand feet of radiance in his heart.

An ancient Buddha appears, manifesting a compassionate vessel for ferrying people across, intent on saving the beings of Heaven and Earth. Regard all things universally, and you will see that they have no fundamental differences. What the heart speaks of, thought after thought, is the image of “yellow flowers.” In the stillness of night, the sound of a hammer comes from an ancient temple; wind and flowers, snow… One should also broaden one’s vision and not cling to what lies immediately before one. A man of true stature should hold a thousand feet of radiance in his heart.

An ancient Buddha appeared, taking the form of a compassionate ferryboat, busy ferrying all beings between heaven and earth to the other shore. Gazing broadly upon the myriad things, one sees that they are originally without distinction; every thought and word in the heart speaks only of “yellow flowers.” In the quiet of night, a bell rings from an ancient temple. Wind, flowers, snow, and moonlight seem all gathered in a single incense burner.

The Dao I transmit is vast and profound. It is not like the way of certain people, who rely on narrow understanding and mistake sitting in meditation with eyes closed for the path to becoming an immortal. They withdraw from other people and flee the world, believing they have found contentment by dwelling in secluded mountain crags and valleys. Such idlers concern themselves only with enjoying the world’s blessings of wind, flowers, snow, and moonlight; they discourse on mysteries and subtleties and travel to the immortal isles of Penglai. People of this sort are not rare, but my Dao is not like that.

My Dao assists the transformation and nurture of all things by heaven and earth. It saves the worthy and the foolish alike, enabling everyone together to attain the sacred fruition and reach the highest good. It is not a narrow, secluded path of cultivation. Therefore, you must be all the more reverent and cautious, and take advantage of this heavenly grace to gain true benefit. Though each person receives more or less, all receive what is suited to them according to their capacity and karmic conditions.

The complete lineage of the Dao—the transmission of its methods—is revealed here and shown to be efficacious so that people in later generations, those who uphold the teachings and cultivate the Dao, may understand that the Dao I transmit assists and participates in the transformation and nurture of heaven and earth; it does not seek only personal liberation. Since practitioners of heterodox paths also follow my teachings, each should make a vow and set an aspiration: fulfill yourself and help others fulfill themselves. Helping others fulfill themselves is precisely the way to fulfill yourself. You cannot fulfill yourself without helping others fulfill themselves.

Settle your minds and listen to me: the passes and perils of the Nine-Bend Yellow River—a metaphor for the winding and difficult road of cultivation—and all the conditions along it are in fact manifest within the human heart. To spread my teachings, you too should make a vow and set an aspiration. Fulfill yourself and help others fulfill themselves; helping others fulfill themselves is precisely the way to fulfill yourself. You cannot fulfill yourself without helping others fulfill themselves.

Everyone, quiet your minds and listen to me. Life is like the Yellow River with its nine great bends: perilous and hard to cross. In the end, these dangers all arise from the human heart. Heaven and Earth are impartial; in their original state, they are level and open. If you cross the river’s dangers with a calm and steady heart, the Daoist teachings can take root throughout the Nine Provinces.

People imagine they can command Heaven, Earth, the sun, and the moon. They carry a sharp sword on their shoulders, judging good and evil wherever they go. Yet several children and grandchildren shift responsibility onto one another, treating their elderly parents as a burden. Brothers, too, each guard their own pride, keeping score and entangling themselves in disputes, without knowing whether their own hearts are pure.

Those whose fate allows them to be pure are born with a pure nature. Those whose fate does not allow it may force themselves to remove every branch and leaf, but they will only pass through repeated cycles of rebirth, leaving behind many debts from past misdeeds and adding yet another tangle of cause and consequence. Old ties remain unresolved, while worries and resentments multiply. Ordinary people think only of immediate pleasures, ignoring the clear laws of Heaven and the fact that cause and consequence leave nothing unaccounted for. Look at those who later prosper and flourish: which of them did not build their fortune through filial devotion to their parents and kindness toward their brothers?

Ever since I descended into the human world, I have done nothing but urge people to accept their allotted fate. When you accept Heaven’s mandate, your life finds its proper course. Those who were not pure to begin with will gradually become pure, and their hearts will fill with harmony and peace. Spirits and benevolent powers offer their protection unseen. Over time, the character of both body and mind is transformed, though the reasons are often hard to explain. Then all things go smoothly: calamities recede and blessings increase.

If you do not act in this way, you may seem to gain an advantage for the moment, but in secret you add to the gloom within you. Your body and mind cannot be transformed, yet you remain unaware and cannot explain why. As time passes, obstacles arise everywhere and your spirit declines, as though spirits have stolen your soul. Your abilities fall short of others’, nothing goes well, and you fail to see your own mistakes, allowing them to accumulate little by little. In the end, you blame Heaven for being unjust and people for refusing to help. Such stubborn and foolish conduct is truly hateful, and also worthy of pity.

That is why I came among humankind: to save all beings and guide people toward good results. Do good and receive good in return; do evil and bear its consequences. Heaven observes with perfect clarity and makes not the slightest mistake. Great good brings great reward; small good brings small reward. Each person draws their own consequences, though the workings behind them may not be immediately clear. Listen to these words with reverence.

Always keep your mind on the Dao (the Way), and strive to embody noble De (Virtue). The learning of sages and worthies is no different from metaphysics or Chan Buddhism. People in the world simply do not understand the similarities and differences among the Three Teachings, and so they make all kinds of pronouncements. In truth, these are confused opinions uttered in a drunken dream, as shallow and ridiculous as riding past flowers on horseback.

Those who devote themselves to cultivating the Dao often fall into the habit of favoring stillness and disliking worldly affairs. Everyone is bound, to some degree, by family ties and human relationships. If you try to sever these ties by force, you still will not truly resolve the causes and conditions that bind you. Some people therefore leave society, flee worldly affairs, and hide in remote mountains. But mountains are home to tigers, leopards, wolves, and spirits and ghosts; violent thunder and fierce winds can also leave a person terrified. What is more, people are made of flesh and blood, and depend on others for food and clothing at every turn. If their provisions become unreliable, or they face harsh cold or heat and unending rain, they will suffer distress and illness. If, at such times, they cannot understand the principles involved, they may easily stray onto a deviant path. This hinders their study of the Dao and brings no benefit; it only harms them.

Others yearn for the mountains and forests and refuse to conduct themselves according to the ways of the world. They withdraw from society entirely and behave strangely, thinking this sets them apart from ordinary people. They do not understand that wasting their time and abandoning their proper work leaves everyday affairs unattended and gradually drains their vitality. In the end, they still fail to grasp the Great Dao. Unaware that they have strayed onto a deviant path, they instead claim that good deeds bring no good reward and that the Dao cannot be learned. Such absurd talk is truly laughable.

Then there are heterodox teachers and misguided fellow practitioners who distort the purpose of the Daoist tradition. At first, their deviation may seem slight, but in the end it leads far astray. They seek fame and profit, and truly do harm to the Dao. Alas, you few today are striving to advance, investigating wondrous principles and penetrating profound mysteries. You are precious talents of our Daoist tradition. These entrenched failings in the study of the Dao cause people to neglect human relationships and everyday affairs; this all comes from having strayed onto a deviant path. When we examine what first stirred in their hearts, we find that they are, in truth, deserving of pity. Cultivating the Dao amid human relationships and worldly affairs is better than hiding in the mountains and forests.

The Daoist teachings passed down in our tradition have always advocated cultivation through everyday affairs. We do not approve of hiding in remote mountains or caves haunted by ghosts, fleeing from other people, and seeking only one’s own liberation.

The reason I can endure as long as Heaven and Earth is that I have understood and followed their intention to nourish all things. If you aspire to do good, act according to your abilities and talents. Do so in a way that does not harm you and can also help others. Helping others inevitably requires some sacrifice, but giving does not mean exhausting yourself completely. If you hand everything over to someone else, they may not be able to bear the burden. There is no need to go that far unless it serves a great cause or repays a karmic debt carried over from a previous life. In ordinary circumstances, simply do what you can: act appropriately and without fault, and turn misfortune into blessing. Then it is as though a lucky star were watching over you, and you may be counted among the important disciples of my tradition who spread its teachings. When you later receive your due in the netherworld, you may even hold the power to determine human fortune and misfortune, with a rank no lower than mine. I do not offer these teachings casually, so learn to understand them well: even a single word or deed, if it benefits someone, is a way of spreading the teachings.

Ordinary people have plenty of idle time in a day and very little time when they are truly busy. While you are here, you focus on this one thing; once you leave, countless concerns await you. In truth, walking, standing, sitting, and lying down can all be ways of spreading the teachings.

Ordinary people have plenty of idle time in a day and very little time when they are truly busy. While you are here, you focus on this one thing; once you leave, countless concerns await you. In truth, walking, standing, sitting, and lying down are all originally the same thing; it is only people themselves who feel distracted and confused. That is why I said earlier that the key is not to lose yourself in the present moment: do not let your mind chase after things outside you, and do not let your thoughts run wild. This can save a great deal of effort. Keep your feet on the ground and meet each circumstance calmly. Do not indulge in wild imaginings, and do not cling rigidly to the pursuit of the Dao; this is how you walk the Great Dao. With long practice, the spirit will grow settled and the Qi will gather. Body and mind will become one, with no gap between them. Only when the power of the spirit flows on without end can you overcome demonic obstacles, escape your bonds, ascend to the heavens, and advance step by step in cultivation.

The world’s moods and human relationships shift between warmth and coldness, and worldly affairs are hard to predict; nothing stays fixed. When the flowers bloom, people flock to admire them. After they fade, only a jumble of broken branches remains, impossible to put back in order. Sweeping away the dead branches is how you set the matter before you right. Since you have taken refuge in my teaching, do not covet power and status. They are like a tree: when it falls, the vines clinging to it wither too, leaving only a heap of rotten wood. You must understand the distracting thoughts of the mundane world, but you must also resolve them. There is no need to keep going on about them and letting them linger in your heart.

Those who study the Dao must show the skill of their cultivation precisely amid entanglements and obstacles. Otherwise, what claim have they to talent? They are merely ordinary people. Anyone can get by when things go well; it is only in adversity that people are apt to blame Heaven and resent others. Yet they do not know what merit they have accumulated in daily life, or why they should enjoy Heaven and Earth’s nourishing kindness. Should they not reflect on this? From now on, let go of the attachments in your hearts and cultivate the numinous treasure—that is, the inner spiritual nature and fruits gained through cultivation—so that ordinary people cannot readily perceive it. Dispel the Yin demons, the dark and harmful thoughts that obstruct cultivation, and ghosts and spirits will be unable to disturb you. If you let your original mind come forth, what thoughts cannot be resolved, what obstacle cannot be cleared away? The fundamental nature is empty, still, and free of attachment, yet it does not depart from the myriad forms of the world. It embraces all things and can also transform them. Grasp this teaching, and you will be able to free yourself from constraint.

Question: How does one learn to sit quietly and enter stillness?

He replied, “May I ask when you practice stillness, and where? If you only want to make this body comfortable, that is no more than a minor technique for preserving health, one that is easily rejected by Heaven, Earth, and other people—like the habit of a slacker. How could that be called learning the Dao? The Dao’s transformative power is vast and sublime, flowing through everything at every time and place. The Dao brings forth the myriad things, and the myriad things continually change through it. Those who cultivate the Dao often want to flee the world and avoid everyday life, yet they do not understand that the scripture’s words ‘harmonize with its light and mingle with its dust’ mean living among people and joining in the world. Heaven has its course, Earth has its course, and people have their duties. Since you live in the human world, how can you distance yourself from other people? Besides, the Dao is not far from humanity; it is present in everyday conduct. Between Heaven and Earth, the Dao appears as their workings; within the human body, it appears as human life. Nourish the mind and spirit, and observe change: could the Dao really be far from people?”

Someone asked, “People differ in their natural abilities: some are bright, others slow to understand. Teachings and ways of expressing them also differ. If someone is naturally intelligent, clear-minded, able to grasp what matters and capable of making decisions, then cultivation can be straightforward and require little effort. One might as well take the Buddhist path directly and quickly realize the state of the Tathagata. If one’s nature is dim and obscured, then one has not yet accomplished the practice of ‘bringing emptiness to its utmost.’ Bringing emptiness to its utmost means accumulating moral principles. ‘Rightness’ means what is fitting; what is fitting is the mind being just as it should be, and that state of being just as it should be is the ‘Mean’—neither excessive nor deficient, but precisely appropriate. Is that right?”

He replied, “Even when the human mind is dim and obscured, there are times when it sees how things stand. Some understand only after being tempered by hardship; some need less effort, others more. Only through attentive examination can one bring emptiness to its utmost. Once one reaches what is precisely appropriate, the mind no longer needs to arrange things deliberately.”

The teachings in the scriptures are sometimes less than fully authentic or complete. They address the questions of different people and guide each person with an appropriate method. If every scripture taught the same principle, one would be enough. Why write so many texts again and again? Some words are spoken to great bodhisattvas—those advanced in cultivation. Some point the way; some offer skillful means suited to ordinary people, making the teachings easier to understand and practice; and some are meant for sages to reflect on together.

The Supreme Scripture of the Dao and De, the Daodejing, is a work that is naturally whole and calls people back to their unadorned origins. That is why it has endured through the ages. It contains the primordial Qi of Great Harmony, through which the Great Dao is made manifest. The Heart Sutra also took this as its guiding purpose and became a guide for later practitioners. Some principles in the text are plainly expressed in its words, while other profound meanings are concealed in mysterious language and are not easy for ordinary people to grasp. Commentaries from different schools can address only the surface: the humane see humaneness in it, and the wise see wisdom. People follow the Dao in their daily lives without necessarily knowing its principles, so there are few occasions when the way of the noble person becomes clear to everyone.

A person may do good or evil, may begin with good and later turn to evil, or begin with evil and later turn to good. It is difficult to judge everyone by a single measure. So I do not readily praise or look down on anyone: who knows whether they may become better in the future?