《周易参同契》

Qian and Kun are the gateways of the Yijing (Classic of Changes) and the foundation of all the hexagrams. Kan and Li, which symbolize water and fire and mark the key points in Yin-Yang transformation, are like a frame and axle that keep the whole process in motion.

The “four hexagrams of female and male” refers to four pairs of complementary Yin and Yang hexagrams. They are like the two skins and pulling rod of a bellows, governing and encompassing the patterns of Yin-Yang movement. This is like a craftsperson driving a cart: one must follow the measuring cord and ink line, hold the reins securely, observe the rules, and travel along the ruts. By keeping to the center, one can master changes on the outside. The calculation follows the calendar and seasonal divisions: each month is divided into five or six stages, while the movements of the sun and moon form the warp and weft. Together these make a cycle of sixty, in which firmness and yielding are each concealed within the other.

At dawn on the first day of each month, the Tun hexagram takes charge; by evening, the Meng hexagram takes over. Day and night each correspond to one hexagram, which advances in sequence.

The cycle is worked out from the Ji Ji and Wei Ji hexagrams to the end of the month. Once it is complete, it begins again. The cyclical days provide a measure for reckoning time, and the movement and stillness of things each have their proper beginnings and endings.

Spring and summer correspond to inner movement, extending from the hour of Zi through Chen and Si. Autumn and winter correspond to outward activity, continuing from Wu through Xu and Hai.

Rewards and punishments should accord with the seasons of spring and autumn; darkness and brightness should follow the changes of cold and heat. The benevolence and righteousness described in the hexagram and line statements should appear as joy or anger in keeping with the times. Only by following the four seasons can the movement of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) proceed in proper order.

Heaven and Earth each occupy their proper place, and the transformations of the Yijing unfold between them. Heaven and Earth symbolize the Qian and Kun hexagrams; to “set the positions” means to arrange the places where Yin and Yang correspond. Here, “the Yijing” refers to Kan and Li: they are the two ways in which Qian and Kun carry their activity into effect. They have no fixed line positions but circulate through six empty positions, coming and going without certainty and rising and descending without regularity. Hidden and obscure, they bring about transformations within. They encompass all things and are the guiding principles of the Great Dao’s movement.

Use the formless to govern the formed. A vessel can serve its purpose precisely because it contains empty space. Therefore, one must trace the waxing and waning of change, allowing Kan and Li to withdraw and remain unseen.

Words should not be invented at will, nor should arguments arise from nothing. One should cite results that have been verified in practice, examine the measures and changes of things, then infer patterns from things of the same kind, using principle as proof. Wu in the Kan trigram symbolizes the Moon’s vital essence; Ji in the Li trigram symbolizes the Sun’s radiance. The character “Yi” takes its image from the joining of Sun and Moon, with firmness and yielding complementing each other. Earth holds sway among the four seasons and runs through the beginning and end of all things. Blue-green, red, white, and black each occupy a direction, yet all are shaped by the action of the central Earth of Wu and Ji.

“Yi” means taking images. Of all the images between Heaven and Earth, none is greater than the Sun and Moon. By observing subtle changes, one can understand the transformations of the myriad things: as Yang Qi recedes, Yin Qi arrives; Yin and Yang gather and move like a turning wheel; Qi enters and leaves, changing like something unfurling and folding. The Changes has three hundred and eighty-four lines. Symbols are used according to the positions of the lines, and these symbols refer to the sixty-four hexagrams.

From the dark of the Moon, the last day of the lunar month, to the new Moon on the first day, the image of the Zhen trigram begins to appear, ushering in a new phase of the sequence of signs. At this time, Heaven and Earth join their vital essences, and Sun and Moon work in harmony: the masculine Yang Qi spreads its subtle influence, while the feminine Yin Qi transforms, nurtures, and enfolds the Yellow Qi. Yin and Yang mingle and unite, thereby giving all things the basis for life. Through nourishment and cultivation, they gradually take shape, gathering vital essence into bodily form. All kinds of living creatures multiply from this process; no life that can wriggle is born from anything else.

Thus Confucius praised the primal state of Heaven and Earth, before differentiation, when all was undivided. The De of Qian and Kun is vast and empty. By examining antiquity, one can trace things back to the ruler of the Beginning. The Book of Songs opens with “Guan Ju,” symbolizing how order is established for all things at their origin; the rites of marriage bring Yin and Yang Qi together. In the year of the Beginning, all things start to sprout.

Sages do not appear from nowhere; they look upward to observe the signs of Heaven. The movements of celestial bodies, advancing and retreating, bending and extending in alternation, all correspond to the seasons. Thus the Changes encompasses the heart of the Way of Heaven.

The Fu hexagram marks the first stirrings of Yang Qi. The eldest son inherits the father’s substance and, relying on the mother’s body, establishes his foundation. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the twelve pitch standards, an ancient system of pitches aligned with the solar terms and musical tones; the rising and descending of Qi are measured by the direction of the Big Dipper’s handle. On the third day, Yang Qi appears as a bright image; the Zhen trigram corresponds to the Geng position in the west. On the eighth day, the Dui trigram corresponds to the Ding position, and the Moon reaches its first quarter.

The Return hexagram, one of the sixty-four hexagrams, symbolizes the beginning of Yang energy’s return and marks the first stirrings of all things. The eldest son inherits his father’s form and relies on the mother’s body to establish his foundation. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the Twelve Pitch Pipes, the ancient system of pitches coordinated with the calendar. Their rising and descending movements are measured by the handle of the Northern Dipper. On the third day, the moon first appears, bright in shape. The Zhen trigram corresponds to the Geng position in the west. On the eighth day, the moon reaches the Dui trigram, corresponding to the Ding position; at first quarter, its shape is straight as a string. By the fifteenth day, the form of the Qian trigram is complete: the moon is full and rises in the east at the Jia position. The toad and rabbit symbolize the Yin and Yang essences within the moon, which shine together with the Qi of the sun. The toad signifies the moon’s progress through the stages of the trigrams; the rabbit signifies the moonlight emerging and radiating brilliance. Around the twenty-first or twenty-second day, the moon has completed this phase of its course, then gradually wanes and descends.

After the sixteenth day, the moon turns to the next phase of its course. At dawn, the Xun trigram appears at the Xin position; the Gen trigram lies to the south at the Bing position. The last quarter falls around the twenty-third day, and by the thirtieth day the Kun trigram corresponds to the Yi position. At this point the moon sets in the northeast, its former brightness gone. One cycle of lunar phases comes to an end; Yin and Yang take turns succeeding one another, and a new cycle begins with the Return hexagram.

Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, while the Qian and Kun trigrams encompass the cycle from beginning to end. Seven and eight add up to fifteen, as do nine and six; the four pairs together total thirty, matching the number of days in a month. Yang energy gradually recedes and lies hidden. The eight trigrams correspond to the stars in the sky, changing as the seasons turn while never straying from their proper balance.

The subtle, invisible primordial essence and Qi can only be inferred through calculation: one observes how they respond to change and begin to emerge anew.

Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, while the Qian and Kun trigrams encompass the cycle from beginning to end. Seven and eight add up to fifteen, as do nine and six; the four pairs together total thirty, matching the number of days in a month. Yang energy gradually recedes and lies hidden. The eight trigrams correspond to the stars in the sky, changing as the seasons turn while never straying from their proper balance.

The subtle, invisible primordial essence and Qi can be tested through calculation to confirm their correspondence with the seasons. In stillness, observe the heavens and compare their patterns with the forms of things. Set up a gnomon, an ancient tool for observing the sun’s shadow and determining the seasons, as a standard; read the heavens to judge what is auspicious or inauspicious. Issue commands in accord with the seasons, without missing the right moment for changes in the hexagram lines. Look upward to examine the patterns of the Yellow River Chart, downward to study the contours of the land and the flow of water, and within to examine the human mind. Test these together, bringing Heaven, Earth, and humanity into accord. In action, follow the rhythms shown by the hexagram images; in stillness, rely on the hexagram statements. Only when the way of Qian and Kun is put into practice can Heaven and Earth proceed in stable order. How could these matters be treated carelessly?

The first duty of governing is to grasp the subtle, comprehensive principles and to reveal and impart precious teachings. The essential way is like holding the Dipper’s pivotal handle: it is the guiding principle and central hinge of instruction. Changes in the hexagram lines occur within, while good or ill fortune appears without. The Five Luminaries—the planets of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—move and intersect in accord with the seasons, responding and stirring in due course. When the constellations of the four quarters and the Seven Luminaries—the sun, moon, and five planets—fall out of order, irregularities and deviations arise, and the order of above and below is disrupted.

The Lord of the Wenchang star oversees records and inspection, investigating and holding the Counselors of the Terrace to account—the celestial officials and ministers who assist the Heavenly Emperor or earthly ruler. The officials each have their own duties and separately manage the affairs entrusted to them.

The sun joins with the vital essences of the Five Phases, while the moon follows the six Lü, the yang pitches among the twelve pitch standards of antiquity. Five and six make thirty degrees; once a circuit is complete, the cycle begins again. By tracing things back to their beginnings and examining how they end, one can grasp the course of rise and decline, survival and extinction. At times a ruler grows arrogant and complacent, becomes excessively powerful, and goes against reason. At times ministers are crooked and sycophantic, acting outside the proper course. If the moon’s waxing, full, and waning phases become irregular, danger follows. The officials responsible for enforcing the law therefore remonstrate and denounce, investigate faults, and put the ruler on guard.

The Pole Star, regarded by the ancients as a symbol of the celestial pole, holds its rightful place. When the ruler is generous and composed in employing ministers, and issues decrees in the Bright Hall, the state will escape calamities that violate the Way of Heaven. Practitioners, for their part, cultivate themselves inwardly, quieting the mind into emptiness, tracing things back to their root and concealing their radiance, while turning their inner gaze upon the body. They gather in the senses and hold fast to life’s root. The three lights of the sun, moon, and stars seem to sink from sight; in quiet cultivation, they nurture the “pearl-child,” a metaphor in internal alchemy for vital essence and Qi. It cannot be seen, yet lies close within the body and is easy to seek.

Yellow Qi, the central Earth Qi, gradually permeates and nourishes the skin throughout the body. Only by setting things straight at the outset can the practice be brought to completion. Once the Qi of strength and vigor is established, one can hold firm even at the end. Conceal it with “the One,” the way of singleness, and the world will know nothing of it.

Those of high De follow what is natural and do not rely on deliberate investigation. Those of low De act with intent, and once they put it to use, they cannot stop. What is sealed above is called “being”; what is sealed below is called “nonbeing.” “Nonbeing” serves what is “above,” while the “above” holds within it a wondrous De of the spirit. This describes the method of cultivating the two apertures, in coordination with Metal Qi.

Know how to reveal what is hidden and preserve the dark, and the wondrous workings of spirit will arrive of themselves. “White” refers to the essence of Metal; “black” refers to the foundation of Water. Water is the pivot of the Dao, and its number is called “One.” It is the beginning of Yin-Yang, and within its mystery it conceals the Yellow Sprout, the subtle Qi at the beginning of transformation in internal alchemy. It is also the ruler of the five metals. In the northern River Chariot, the lead is black on the outside but contains golden radiance within. This is like wearing coarse cloth while carrying jade: one appears simple and foolish, yet harbors something precious within.

Metal is the mother of Water, and the mother lies hidden within the child. Water is the child of Metal, and the child is concealed within the River Chariot. Thus lead is black on the outside but contains golden radiance within, like wearing coarse cloth while carrying jade, appearing simple and foolish.

Metal is the mother of Water, and the mother lies hidden within the child. Water is the child of Metal, and the child is concealed within the mother’s womb. The wondrous state of the perfected person’s cultivation seems both present and absent, like an abyss, sinking at times and rising at others. After withdrawing into concealment, it spreads and circulates again, each part keeping to its proper place.

What is extracted and refined is initially white; after processing, it turns vermilion. During the refining, it must be protected on the outside so that its white inner substance remains secure within. The vessel is one inch square and round, its parts blending and constraining one another. It existed before Heaven and Earth took shape, and its status is exalted and honored.

Walls and gates stand beside it, shaped like Penghu, the legendary mountain of immortals. It is enclosed on every side. Though there are passages in all four directions, entry and exit are not easy. Its defenses are tight, barring evil and delusion; winding covered walkways connect with one another to guard against mishap. Then there is no need for worry, and one is not wearied by troubles. Shen and Qi fill the chamber; nothing can hold them there. Those who keep them prosper, while those who lose them decline. In movement or stillness, at rest or in action, they are always with a person.

The so-called “method of the hidden calendar” consists only of inward visualization and focused thought, stepping to imitate the movement of the stars, and then applying the Six Jia according to the days and times—a form of divination based on the cyclical stems and branches, including the Jiazi cycle. Others practice what they call the “Yin Way,” reject the Nine-One method, a certain form of cultivation, and disturb the original cells, meaning the body’s fundamental Jing and Qi. They rely on consuming Qi until their intestines and stomach rumble, exhale upright Qi and inhale noxious influences, and go without sleep day and night, resting not even once in a month. Their bodies grow more exhausted by the day, their minds grow dazed, and they seem almost senseless. Their channels throughout the body surge as if boiling, leaving them unable to become calm and clear.

Still others pile up earth to build altars and make devout offerings morning and evening. They claim to see the forms of ghosts and spirits, or to receive signs in dreams. Delighted by this, they convince themselves that they are certain to prolong their lives, yet soon die young, their corpses left to rot in the open. Their practices often violate the proper Dao and defy its laws, missing the essential points. Such teachings and practices are numerous, too many to count; they turn away from the way of Huangdi and Laozi, the thought represented by the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and stray far from the Nine Capitals, the heavenly realm or world of immortals in Daoist tradition.

Those who understand examine their underlying principles and then suddenly see the right path. If they cultivate diligently, without slackening morning or evening, and consume the elixir for three years, they can lighten their bodies and travel far: pass through flames without being burned, enter water without getting wet, appear and disappear at will, and enjoy lasting peace without worry. Once their Daoist work is complete and their De fulfilled, they withdraw and await the right time. Taiyi, the supreme deity revered in Daoism, then summons them and transfers them to the Central Continent, the dwelling place of immortals. When their merit is complete, they ascend and receive the registers and talismanic mandates bestowed by Heaven.

Records of the firing times are not empty claims; they can be explained through the hexagrams of the Book of Changes. The “reclining moon”—an object or state shaped like a crescent—serves as a metaphor for the cauldron and furnace. The White Tiger symbolizes the crucial work of refining, while the Mercury Sun is like a flowing pearl, accompanied by the Azure Dragon. When East and West are joined, the hun and po souls unite with one another. The waxing half-moon corresponds to the Dui trigram and the number eight; the waning half-moon corresponds to the Gen trigram, also numbered eight. When the refined essences of the two halves are brought together, the forms of Heaven and Earth take shape. The two eights together make one jin, symbolizing the balanced, upright course of the Way of Change. One jin contains 384 zhu, corresponding also to the number of hexagram lines.

When gold is placed in a blazing fire, its color does not change, nor does its pure radiance diminish. Since the separation of Heaven and Earth, the light of the sun and moon has never waned, the weight of gold has never lessened, and the sun and moon have continued their courses as before. Gold is originally generated in relation to the moon: on the new moon, the first day of the lunar month, it receives the sun’s light. At the end of the month, on the dark moon, gold returns to its mother and joins with sunlight, concealing its form and sinking into the deep, empty void. Once gold recovers its original nature, its majestic radiance appears, and the cauldron and furnace shine in turn.

Zi and Wu combine to make three; Wu and Ji are called five. Once three and five are harmonized, the eight minerals used in alchemy each follow their proper principles. The breaths mingle, and the mind is gathered in quiet contemplation, as husband and wife unite. Yellow earth is the father of gold, and the flowing pearl—mercury—is the mother of water. Water is checked by earth: earth holds it down so it cannot overflow. The Vermilion Bird symbolizes the essence of fire and is responsible for balancing and regulating their waxing and waning. If water grows too strong, it puts out the fire; both then return to thick earth. When the qualities of water, fire, and earth come together, they return to their source.

Even giant dodder, or sesame, is said to prolong life; the restored Elixir is all the more considered fit to consume. Gold resists decay and corruption, and is therefore regarded as a treasure among all things. When alchemists take it, it is said to lengthen their lives. Earth moves between the four seasons, keeping to its bounds and regulating their order. When cinnabar and gold sand enter the Five Viscera, it is as if mist spreads and wind and rain flow: the medicine’s vapors permeate the body and reach the limbs, giving the complexion a healthy glow. White hair turns black, lost teeth grow back, an old man regains the strength of his youth, and an old woman becomes like a young girl. Those who thus transform their bodies and escape the calamities of the world are called perfected beings.

When Hu Powder is placed in fire, its white powder scatters like mist in wind and rain. Its vapor rises as though it could reach the limbs, giving the complexion a healthy glow, turning white hair black, and causing lost teeth to grow back. Old men become young and vigorous again, while elderly women seem to become maidens. Those who transform their bodies and escape the calamities of the world are called “Perfected Ones,” an ideal state of accomplished cultivation and transcendence beyond ordinary people.

When Hu Powder is put into fire, its color changes and it eventually reverts to lead. Snow and ice melt into water when they meet hot broth. Gold takes sand and stone as its basis and is brought into harmony with the aid of mercury. Its transformations have a real basis: beginning and end follow one another and stand in a causal relationship.

Those who wish to cultivate themselves into immortals who attain the Dao through ingesting elixirs should use materials akin to the goal they seek. To sow grain, one uses millet seed; to hatch a chicken, one uses a chicken egg. By supporting things in accordance with their inherent nature, they can be readily nurtured and refined. A fish’s eye cannot serve as a pearl, and mugwort cannot grow into a catalpa tree. Only things of similar nature can accord with one another; when their natures are incompatible, they cannot be refined into treasures. Thus, sparrows and swallows do not produce phoenixes, and foxes and rabbits cannot raise horses. Water always flows downward, while fire burns upward; each follows its own nature.

Many people in the world study the Dao and consider themselves highly intelligent, yet they have never encountered a true transmission and waste their furnace fuel and money in vain. They make claims by following written texts and carry out procedures recklessly on the basis of their own imaginings. Their refining has no sound foundation, and they misjudge the proportions. They grind and refine stone gall, mica, and magnetic ores from the Qiang lands; they roast materials from the Yuzhang region with sulfur; they also mix and refine clay and mercury. They even treat the five-metal mixture obtained at the bottom of the furnace as the crucial element that assists the process. These materials all have different natures—how could they possibly fuse into one? No matter how many times they try, they are bound to fail again and again. Hoping to prevail through clever tricks only makes them foolish. Waiting in hope brings no result; only the sages understand the principle.

Some study from youth until their hair turns white, yet still become doubtful along the way. They depart from the right path, cling to confusion, and leave the proper road for crooked side trails. Like someone peering through a tube, they can see only a narrow corner and can hardly infer the future or grasp the Dao in its entirety from so little.

Fuxi (the legendary sage-king of high antiquity) was the earliest sage. He began drawing the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) to model the workings of Heaven and Earth. Later, King Wen of Zhou developed the trigrams and wrote the statements for the hexagrams and their lines; Confucius then composed the “Ten Wings,” further explaining the Yi Jing (Book of Changes). These three sages arose in response to their times, each in turn taking on the responsibility of transmitting and clarifying the Great Dao. Their achievements came at different times, yet each contributed equally to the world. The writings of later generations carried forward the ideas of those before them, carefully developing and weighing them. What is visible is easy to measure; principles whose signs have yet to appear are difficult to plan for. All they did was to give later generations a guide to follow. They established the classics for the world, but were not born with foreknowledge: through instruction and insight, they came to see the principles clearly, as if lifting a curtain and climbing a high platform, so that everything before them suddenly came into view.

The phrase “six hundred chapters of the Fire Record” conveys essentially the same central teaching. These matters are repeated and explained with great care in the text, yet people often refuse to consider them closely. If we trace their origins and development, we can understand both their hidden and their manifest principles. These teachings are not, in themselves, impossible to understand. I have only spoken of them privately to those with discernment; how could I dare write them down lightly? But to keep silent would sever the transmission of the Dao and could even bring blame upon me. So I have written what I know on bamboo and silk. This feels like revealing Heaven’s secrets, and leaves me hesitant and sighing. After much thought, I can only bring these modest insights together in a text. The art of refining the elixir has its own methods. I cannot bear to disclose every detail, so I will outline only the essentials and give a general view of its order.

Build a dike with metal so that water can enter and flow steadily. The quantity of metal is set at fifteen, and the quantity of water is likewise fifteen. When refining them in the furnace, weigh them precisely; the water should be slightly greater in amount. Only when these two substances, metal and water, are combined do they form the true medicine. The weight of the metal must remain at its original amount. Three further portions of medicine are kept out of the mixture; take another two portions and combine them with the fire. The three substances together endure the firing, and their transformation seems wondrous beyond measure. At the bottom of the furnace is heat like the sun, and the medicine quickly changes as it steams: first it melts, then it congeals. This is called “Yellow Chariot.” As the refining nears its end, the medicine’s potency gradually declines, diminishing its efficacy. Its form turns to ash and earth, like fine dust on a window.

After pounding, processing, and mixing the medicine, place it in the red chamber of the furnace, the area where it is fired. Seal the joints tightly and make sure the whole vessel is sound and secure. Build a fierce fire beneath the furnace and keep it burning day and night. At first, use a gentler civil fire to bring the medicine gradually into balance; only in the final stage should you apply the stronger martial fire. During the refining, observe carefully and adjust the heat with precision, keeping the firing complete and steady, like fine dust on a window.

Pound and process the ingredients, then mix them together and place them inside the red furnace door. Seal the joints tightly so that nothing can escape. Keep the fire beneath the furnace burning, tending it diligently day and night. Begin with a gentle flame, gradually refining the ingredients; use a fierce flame only at the end. Watch with exceptional care, adjusting the heat and cold of the fire precisely. Pass through twelve stages in sequence, personally inspecting the work at the end of each stage. When the medicinal Qi is nearly spent and its nature is about to change, its original form seems to disappear. Its color turns purple, and it congeals distinctly into “Returning Elixir”—an elixir made by refining ingredients through the stages of firing. Grind a small amount into powder and take one pill. The “knife-tip measure”—a device for measuring a tiny quantity of medicine, and by extension the tiny amount itself—is most wondrous.

In working out the numerical principles of the Five Phases, sum them up simply; there is no need for complexity. When water is used to rouse fire, the flames suddenly go out. The sun and moon wax and wane in alternation, and darkness and the new moon—the time at the start of the lunar month when the moon cannot be seen—mark their changeover. When water grows strong, the Yin Qi of the Kan trigram intrudes upon Yang Qi; when fire weakens, the radiance symbolized by the Li trigram dims. Yin and Yang harmonize and nourish one another; their interaction and transformation follow the natural Dao.

Names determine the character of things, while the meanings of words arise from their nature. Only when metal returns to its original nature can it be called “Returning Elixir.” I speak not from empty speculation, but in imitation of the writings handed down by the sages. Ancient books take “Dragon and Tiger” as their title; the Yellow Emperor praised “Golden Blossoms”; the King of Huainan refined “Autumn Stone”; and Wang Yang added “Yellow Sprouts,” a term in alchemy for a particular ingredient or alchemical material. The wise can uphold and practice these methods; do not associate with those who are unwise. The principles handed down from past to present are consistent, and on this basis one may discuss and explain what one seeks to accomplish. Those who study the Dao should make still greater efforts and reflect repeatedly. The crucial principles have already been stated plainly and clearly; there is no deception here.

Qian and Kun—the Qian and Kun trigrams of the Book of Changes, symbolizing Yang and Yin respectively—embody hardness and softness. They complement and contain one another. Yang Qi receives its endowment from Yang, and Yin Qi from Yin; male and female depend on each other. Yin and Yang must follow the principles of creation and transformation for Jing Qi to unfold. Kan and Li, symbolizing water and fire as well as the transformations of Yin and Yang, take the foremost place, shining brightly and appearing clearly.

Qian and Kun, in their hardness and softness, complement and contain one another; Yang and Yin receive their endowments from one another, and male and female depend on each other. By following the principles of creation and transformation, Jing Qi can unfold. Kan and Li take the foremost place, their radiance spreading everywhere. The hidden, mysterious transformations are beyond measurement and cannot be depicted in a diagram. The sages weighed and inferred these principles, arranging them in sequence without clinging to any fixed foundation. The Four Images return to chaos and enter directly into the realm of nothingness. The sixty-four hexagrams are arrayed all around, like the framework of a carriage. The Dragon Horse is harnessed and set in motion, while the enlightened ruler grasps the right moment. So long as Yin and Yang are in harmony, one can proceed with the flow along a level, upright road. Take a crooked path, however, and dangers and obstacles abound, until the state is brought to ruin and peril.

When a noble person lives at home, words that accord with the right way will find a response even a thousand li away. Here, the text speaks of a ruler of ten thousand chariots—a sovereign with command of ten thousand war chariots—who lives deep within the palace yet must still follow the seasons of Yin and Yang, conceal his abilities, and await the right moment. He must not disregard the correspondence between the trigrams and the months. The Tun hexagram corresponds to the times of Zi and Shen; the Meng hexagram corresponds to the times of Yin and Xu. Each of the other sixty hexagrams, too, has its own corresponding days and times.

Only two examples of these symbolic principles are briefly stated here; they have not been explained in full. When establishing principles and setting laws, one should act with benevolence and extend kindness. To oppose these principles brings misfortune; to follow them brings good fortune. One should act in accordance with the calendar, with sincere devotion and discreet care, observing the days closely and examining the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang Qi. Even the slightest deviation may bring regret and calamity.

When the seasons turn at the winter and summer solstices, the workings of Heaven and Earth may go awry. Bitter heat may arrive in the depths of winter, and frost and snow may fall in midsummer. The sequence of the spring and autumn equinoxes may be disrupted, so that the lengths of day and night no longer match their proper times. Winds and rains fall out of balance; floods and droughts alternate; locusts swarm, and strange omens appear one after another. The heavens display uncanny signs, while mountains collapse and the earth splits. A filial child who gives heartfelt devotion can move the Supreme Order at the Center, which governs in all directions. Words spoken nearby can spread to distant lands. Sometimes they bring disaster, sometimes blessing; sometimes they bring peace to all under Heaven, and sometimes they provoke war. All four outcomes depend on a person’s heart and intentions.

Movement and stillness each have their proper measure, and one should observe their rules. The four seasons proceed in order and accord with the Qi of Yin and Yang; firmness and softness then each have their boundaries and do not encroach upon one another. The Five Phases, too, each remain in their proper place, without arbitrary increase or decrease. The Way of Change circulates between Heaven and Earth, at times bending and at times extending, changing through continual cycles.

Between the dark moon and the new moon, Yin and Yang unite, responding like matching tallies as they move through the center. Heaven and Earth remain in an undivided, unformed state; the female and male forces of Yin and Yang join together. Their fluids nourish and bring forth the myriad things, setting the process of generation and transformation in motion. The workings of the divine powers of Heaven and Earth cannot be measured. Through this, one can settle the body and mind and preserve oneself, concealing one’s traces while nurturing Jing and Qi. The movement of Qi begins in the northeast, in the region of the lunar mansions Ji and Dou. It then turns to the right, like a wheel in motion, as all things begin to sprout. The hidden breath reveals its signs and gives off a subtle radiance.

When the Moon moves above the lunar lodges Mao and Bi, the Yang Qi symbolized by the Zhen trigram begins to appear, and all things take their start from it. This is like the “Hidden Dragon” in the first line, nine at the beginning, of the Qian hexagram: although Yang Qi has begun to stir, it remains hidden and unrevealed. The number of Yang is based on three, and the number of Yin corresponds to eight. On the third day of the month, Yang Qi stirs within the Zhen trigram; by the eighth day, the Moon has moved to the position symbolized by the Dui trigram. The second line, nine in the second place, of the Qian hexagram says, “Dragon appearing in the field,” meaning that Yang Qi begins to show itself and the world grows increasingly calm and clear. Through the unfolding of numbers such as three and five, the form of the Qian hexagram gradually takes shape.

The third line, nine in the third place, of the Qian hexagram says, “The noble person is active and vigilant all day, and in the evening remains cautious.” It reminds people to stay alert even as Yang Qi grows stronger. Yin and Yang wax and wane: when fullness reaches its peak, decline follows. Change continues without end, eventually returning to its starting point. The Xun trigram carries forward this sequence of change, and practitioners should hold firmly to it so that Yin and Yang remain in harmony. The fourth line, nine in the fourth place, says, “Perhaps leaping in the abyss,” symbolizing uncertainty about whether to advance or retreat, and a situation fraught with danger. The Gen trigram governs stopping; it reminds people to stop at the right moment and not overstep the proper time. Around the twenty-third day, the Moon reaches its quarter phase, and one should wait in accordance with the season. The fifth line, nine in the fifth place, says, “Flying Dragon in the heavens,” symbolizing Yang Qi rising to the highest position, flourishing and coming to fruition. The fifth line of Yin, in turn, has the Kun trigram receive the Yang of Qian, bringing the preceding and following changes to completion and nurturing all things, like a common mother to all beings. The top line, nine at the top, says, “An overreaching Dragon will have cause for regret,” showing that when Yang Qi rises to its utmost, it begins to decline. The “use of the nine” describes change without constancy as the principle governing this movement. When the number of Yang reaches its limit, a new beginning follows. By following the course of things and accord with their nature, Yin and Yang can circulate and interact.

In its movement, this process follows the Xuanji—the ancient instrument for observing the movement of celestial bodies, also used to refer to their celestial paths—as Yin and Yang rise and descend, moving through all six lines. Since these changes cannot be seen directly, the hexagram lines have no fixed, unchanging positions. This principle of change is the fundamental law of the Yi.

At dawn on the first day of each month, the Moon returns to the new-moon phase, symbolized by the Fu hexagram, in which Yang Qi is first born. Yang Qi begins to circulate, moving smoothly in and out. At this time it is weak, and one must carefully observe the first signs of its emergence, as when using a gnomon to measure the shadow. Huangzhong, the first of the ancient twelve pitch standards, which also represents the first birth of Yang Qi, returns at its appointed time in the month of Jianzi. This reveals the signs of Yin and Yang coming into contact. A gentle, warm energy spreads throughout, allowing the people to live and flourish in peace.

When the season represented by the Lin hexagram arrives, Yang Qi stretches out like branches, opening a path and revealing an upright, luminous radiance. The light gradually grows stronger, and the days grow longer. The month of Chou corresponds to Dalu, one of the twelve pitch standards; the changes in the rise and fall of Yin and Yang thereby move toward harmony.

Looking up at the celestial patterns, one sees Yin and Yang joining to form the Tai hexagram, with the forces of hardness and softness flourishing together. As Yin and Yang interact, the lesser withdraws and the greater arrives. The currents of Qi gather in the month of Yin and move in accordance with the season.

Then the seasonal cycle advances toward the stage symbolized by the Dazhuang hexagram, as Yang Qi is arrayed between the gates of the month of Mao. The fruit pods of the elm fall and return to their source. Punishment and Virtue—ancient terms for opposing forces such as killing and growth—wax and wane in turn. At this point, the lengths of day and night begin to equal one another.

Yin Qi recedes, while Yang Qi rises and advances, like feathers washed clean and shaken free of accumulated dust.

The Qian hexagram, which symbolizes vigor and Yang Qi, is strong and bright, vast enough to cover the four directions. Yang Qi reaches its limit at the hour of Si, around nine to eleven in the morning, and meets Yin Qi at the central point.

The Gou hexagram, in which Yin Qi first appears, marks the beginning of the sequence in which Yin and Yang wax and wane, like the first chill felt beneath one’s feet when treading on frost. The spring water at the bottom of a well is cold. At noon, this corresponds to the month of Ruibin, one of the ancient twelve pitch standards, also used to designate a month. At this time, Yang Qi yields to Yin Qi, which becomes dominant.

The Dun hexagram symbolizes withdrawal: leaving a prominent position, gathering in one’s vital essence, concealing one’s De, and waiting for the right time, dwelling in darkness and quiet.

Under the Pi hexagram, which signifies obstruction and blockage, the sprouts of living things cannot grow. Yin Qi extends, while Yang Qi bends and lies low, as though Yang Qi’s very name had vanished.

Observe the balance in the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, and examine the conditions of mid-autumn: the young are nourished, while withered and aged things can flourish again. Shepherd’s purse, wheat, and other plants put forth tender shoots and push up through the earth.

Wait for the right time, dwelling in darkness and quiet.

When the Pi hexagram brings obstruction and blockage, the sprouts of living things cannot grow. Yin Qi extends, while Yang Qi bends and lies low, as though Yang Qi’s very name had vanished.

Observe the balance in the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, and examine the conditions of mid-autumn: the young are nourished, while withered and aged things can flourish again. Shepherd’s purse, wheat, and other plants put forth tender shoots and push up through the earth.

The Bo hexagram symbolizes stripping away: the body is damaged and its form perishes. The Qi that gives rise to life has been exhausted, and the most subtle Shen is lost with it.

When the movement of the Great Dao reaches its end, it turns back and returns to the origin represented by Kun, the root of the earth. It always follows the earth’s patterns, receives Heaven’s intent, and carries out and spreads the work of transformation and nurture.

The Great Dao is deep and remote. Though separated by barriers, things remain connected; it accords with the proper measure and brings forth the myriad things. It is the source of Yin and Yang. Heaven and earth are vast and empty, elusive and difficult to fathom; no one knows their beginning. At first, they lose their bearings and stray from the course, but later they become sovereign. No road remains level forever without sloping downward: this is the natural law of the Great Dao. The myriad things change and alternate, waxing and waning in mutual succession. They end in Kun and begin in Fu, cycling endlessly like a linked chain. Rulers who govern in accord with the Great Dao endure for a thousand years.

To nourish life, lengthen one’s years, and defer the end of one’s allotted lifespan, one should carefully consider the consequences of things and trace them back to their beginnings. The body received by a person originally takes shape from the formless. The primordial Jing, the fundamental vital essence of life, disperses and circulates, taking shape through primordial Qi at the very beginning.

Yin and Yang are the principles governing the movement of the universe and the foundation in which the hun and po souls reside. The Yang spirit is called the “sun hun,” and the Yin spirit the “moon po”; each provides a dwelling for the other. Nature is stored within, like the foundation on which city walls are built; emotion acts outwardly, like the walls themselves. Once the walls are complete, the life within can settle into stability.

At this point, emotion joins with Qian and Kun: Qian acts with initiative and strength, allowing breath to spread and vital energies to circulate; Kun remains still and gathers inward, becoming a place where the Great Dao can dwell. After strength has been put into action, it withdraws, and softness follows to nourish all things. “Nine returns and seven reverses,” and “eight comes back and six resides,” are terms used in cultivation to describe the back-and-forth transformations of Yin-Yang vital energies. The male belongs to white, the female to red; Metal and Fire regulate each other, allowing Water and Fire to settle and giving rise to the Five Phases.

The highest good is like water: clear and without blemish. The form in which the Great Dao appears cannot be captured in a drawing. It transforms and spreads, with each thing appearing in its own way and settling in its own place.

This transformation is like that of an egg, in which white and yolk work together. At first the embryo is only an inch in size; gradually it develops limbs, the five organs, sinews, and bones. Only after ten months does it emerge from the womb. At birth its bones are soft and pliable, and its skin is smooth and supple, as fine as lead.

A yangsui, an instrument that kindles fire from sunlight, must rely on the sun to shine and produce fire. A fangzhu, a vessel that collects dew, cannot gather liquid without the light of the sun or moon. Though the Yin and Yang energies of the sun and moon are remote, they can still respond to and connect with each other. How much more readily can this happen within the body itself, where the key lies in the heart and chest. Yin and Yang correspond with the sun and moon, and the workings of Water and Fire serve as proof.

The ears, eyes, and mouth are the body’s three treasures. Gather them inward and do not let the senses run wild outward. The Perfected One—a person accomplished in cultivating the Dao—dwells hidden in the depths and calmly abides by the patterns through which Heaven and Earth move. Let seeing and hearing turn back naturally with things, without becoming attached to the outside world; in opening and closing, remain in accord with the Dao. In this way, one gains hold of the body and mind’s pivotal center and can remain continuous and unbroken, whether active or still.

The Qi of Li, which symbolizes fire and the intent of Shen, circulates within and safeguards body and mind. Kan, which symbolizes water and the essence of the ears and eyes, does not chase after things outside through the senses. Dui, which symbolizes the mouth, does not rely on speech to show itself off. Speak little and accord with the undivided Qi of primordial chaos. Guard the three gates of the ears, eyes, and mouth; relax the body and settle in a quiet room.

Let the mind return to emptiness and make freedom from thought your constant state. When difficulties arise, do not waver readily. Focus on keeping to the One and do not let your thoughts scatter. In sleep, let Shen remain embraced and held fast; after waking, stay attentive to the continuance and changes of body and mind. The complexion gradually becomes more lustrous, and the joints grow stronger. Only after dispelling the various Yin and malign Qis can the upright Yang Qi be established.

If cultivation continues without interruption, the breath circulates like clouds and rain, gently nourishing without cease, like spring rain moistening the earth or water flowing as ice and snow melt. It passes from the head to the feet, then rises again, moving back and forth in a cycle that reaches the boundless. Qi fills and circulates through the body. From this we can see that returning is proof of the Dao, while softness and weakness are the root of De. Gradually clear away long accumulated impurities, and even what is subtle can be brought into harmony and flow. The transformation of turbid Qi is a process leading to clarity; what has long been dark can also become bright.

People in the world like to pursue minor techniques, but do not understand that the Dao has shallow and deep levels. They abandon the proper path for a crooked one, seeking quick success, only to end up blocked and stagnant. It is like a blind person who does not know to use a cane, or a deaf person who tries to distinguish musical notes; like trying to catch pheasants and rabbits in water, seeking fish and dragons on a mountain, or planting wheat while hoping to harvest millet. Using a compass to seek a square, they exhaust their strength and deplete their spirit, yet see no results all year long.

As for the method of ingesting substances, it is actually simple and not complicated. The scripture then repeats the earlier comparisons: a deaf person trying to distinguish music, hunting in water, seeking fish on a mountain, planting wheat and hoping for millet, and laboring without result. These examples show that seeking the Dao through improper methods will ultimately bring no success.

The Solar Flowing Pearl, a moving substance formed from the essence of the sun, is always trying to escape human control. Once it obtains Golden Essence, the two turn and lean on one another, transforming into a white liquid that condenses until it becomes hard. The Golden Essence acts first, then soon dissolves into water. When the pattern of interlocking horse-teeth appears, Yang Qi comes to harmonize it. The natures of Yin and Yang unite of their own accord. Yin Qi is urged inward, gathered and nurtured within, as though a door were shut to keep it from leaking out.

This is like a loving mother raising her children and a filial son repaying her kindness; it is also like a strict father issuing commands and teaching his descendants. The Qi of the Five Phases takes its turn in power, interweaving and relying on one another to bring things into being and transform them: Fire can melt Metal, and Metal can cut Wood, allowing Wood to grow. Three, Five, and One are all the most subtle essentials between Heaven and Earth. They can be passed on through oral formulas, but are difficult to explain in writing.

The Zi position should turn to the right, while the Wu position rotates eastward. The boundaries of the Mao and You directions are clearly marked, establishing two distinct names. The Dragon calls to the Tiger, and the Tiger draws in the Dragon’s vital essence. Each uses the other, both coveting what the other can offer. They join, swallow, chew, and devour one another. Yinghuo, the planet Mars, keeps watch in the west, while Great Peace—the sign of stability and harmony—spreads across the sky. Wherever the force of killing reaches, what can avoid being overturned? The civet guards the mouse, and the sparrow fears the hawk. Each performs its part; who would dare make a sound?

Without understanding these principles, one cannot speak of them carelessly. Some have exhausted their family fortunes, leaving their wives and children hungry and impoverished. From ancient times to the present, those who have taken an interest in this Way have been beyond counting, yet few have ever encountered the true method and succeeded in their practice. Searching widely for supposedly precious medicines runs contrary to the Dao’s essential purpose. It is like the sparrow fearing the hawk: each is constrained by its place in the relationship, and who would dare make a sound?

If one cannot understand these principles, one should not speak of them carelessly. Some have exhausted their family fortunes and left their wives and children in poverty. Since ancient times, many have been drawn to this Way, but few have ultimately encountered the true method and succeeded in their practice. Searching everywhere for precious medicines instead runs contrary to the Dao. One should examine the signs of things, recognize their beginnings, infer their principles from what is similar, and observe how things change from beginning to end.

The Five Phases overcome one another, yet in turn each becomes the parent of another. The mother contains the nourishing fluid, while the father provides the endowment. When vital essence gathers, form spreads out and takes shape; thus even metal and stone can endure without decaying. If one remains focused and cautious, without allowing vital essence to leak away, one may attain the Dao. The result will be as plain as a shadow appearing as soon as a pole is raised, or an echo sounding as soon as one calls into a valley. Is this not efficacious? This is an image of the utmost refinement and subtlety between Heaven and Earth.

If one swallows an inch of wild kudzu, a poisonous plant, and an ounce of croton, a poisonous medicine, one will stiffen and collapse as soon as they reach the throat, unable to get up or move. At such a point, even if King Wen of Zhou divined, Confucius interpreted the hexagrams, Bian Que applied his needles, and Wu Xian beat his ritual drum, how could they make the person regain consciousness and rise to run about again?

The Girl by the River—the mercury used in alchemy—is nimble and wondrous. When it meets fire, it scatters and vanishes in an instant. Even King Wen of Zhou, with his yarrow-stalk divination, Confucius, with his reading of the hexagrams, Bian Que, with his acupuncture, and Wu Xian, with his drumming, could not make it gather again, regain its vitality, and resume its restless movement.

The Girl by the River is nimble and wondrous. At the touch of fire, she scatters without leaving even a trace of dust. Spirits vanish, dragons hide, and no one can know where she is. To control her, one must take Yellow Sprout—the essential alchemical substance—as the foundation.

When things lose the balance of Yin-Yang, they go against the natural way. A hen hatching eggs alone cannot bring her chicks to full development. Why? Because the interplay of Yin and Yang has not yet taken effect: the Three and Five, the alchemical term for related Yin-Yang and Five Phases elements, have not joined, and firmness and yielding remain apart. The wondrous workings by which all things come into being are simply the laws of nature and Heaven and Earth: fire rises and water flows downward, not because someone taught them how. The laws by which Heaven and Earth generate and govern all things cannot be arbitrarily changed.

Observe the union of male and female: firmness and yielding join, and are then difficult to separate. They come together in due measure, not through human contrivance. A man is born face down, and a woman face up. This state takes shape when they receive their first original Qi in the womb; it does not arise only after birth. Corresponding signs remain even at death. Their parents did not teach them to be this way; it was determined from the moment of conception.

The Kan man, symbolized by the Kan trigram, is the Moon; the Li woman, symbolized by the Li trigram, is the Sun. The Sun bestows its bounty, and the Moon spreads its radiance. The Moon receives the Sun’s changes without losing any of its form. When Yang loses its proper counterpart, Yin encroaches on its light, producing the dark and bright phases, the Sun and Moon drawing near, and eclipses, as they obscure and press upon one another. Yang diminishes and Yin bears down upon it, and calamity follows. Men and women depend on one another, as the Sun and Moon interact, nourish, and give rise to life. Male and female intermingle, each seeking union with what resembles it.

Metal transforms into Water, whose nature is to flow and spread everywhere. Fire transforms into Earth, which can obstruct the flow of Water. Thus, the Yang aspect acts and extends outward, while the Yin aspect remains still and receives within. If movement goes too far and exceeds its proper measure, it is restrained by the Yin aspect, just as the Po (the Yin aspect of the human spirit) restrains the Hun (the Yang aspect of the human spirit), preventing it from running unchecked. Movement is neither too cold nor too hot; advance and retreat both accord with the proper moment. Yin and Yang are each brought into harmony, and their signs appear together.

Cinnabar, used in alchemical refining, is the essence of Wood; only upon obtaining Metal can it unite with it. Where Metal and Water unite, Wood accompanies Fire. The four forces of Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire blend into one and are called the Dragon and Tiger: the Dragon belongs to Yang and is associated with odd numbers; the Tiger belongs to Yin and is associated with even numbers. The Liver, whose color is green, symbolizes the father; the Lungs, whose color is white, symbolize the mother; the Kidneys, whose color is black, symbolize the child; and the Spleen, whose color is yellow, symbolizes the ancestor. The child is the beginning of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water). Three things are brought together as one family, and in the end all return to Wu and Ji, the Heavenly Stems that represent central Earth. The four forces of Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire blend into one and are called the Dragon and Tiger: the Dragon belongs to Yang and is associated with odd numbers; the Tiger belongs to Yin and is associated with even numbers. The Liver, whose color is green, symbolizes the father; the Lungs, whose color is white, symbolize the mother; the Kidneys, whose color is black, symbolize the child; and the Spleen, whose color is yellow, symbolizes the ancestor. The child is the beginning of the Five Phases. Three things are brought together as one family, and in the end all return to Wu and Ji.

Firmness and pliancy arise in turn, each passing through its allotted position. The Dragon dwells in the west and the Tiger in the east, corresponding respectively to the Mao and You positions, which are earthly-branch directions. Punishment and virtue converge and meet in harmony: punishment governs restraint and killing, while virtue governs generation and growth. When elm trees shed their leaves in the second month, the Dipper’s bowl points toward Mao; when wheat grows in the eighth month, the Celestial Net, another name for a star official of the Northern Dipper, holds to You. Zi lies in the south and Wu in the north, and the two serve as each other’s guiding measures. The numbers proceed from one to nine and then cycle again. Primordial Qi is held within the Xu and Wei lunar mansions and disperses its essence at the Zi position.

“Guan-guan cry the ospreys, on the islets in the river. The graceful, virtuous maiden is a fine match for the gentleman.” This speaks of ospreys keeping one another company in pairs, just as a gentleman and a virtuous maiden are suited to each other. The male bird does not live alone, nor does the female dwell in solitude. The Black Tortoise—a divine creature formed from a tortoise and a snake—coils around itself in mutual support. This, too, shows that Yin and Yang, female and male, must work together.

Suppose two women lived together in one room and were both beautiful. Even if Su Qin, a skilled persuader, were asked to carry messages, and Zhang Yi, a master of strategic persuasion, to act as matchmaker; even if they used all their eloquence and spoke every kind word, candidly trying to bring the two together until they married, they still could not make them a truly compatible man and woman—not even if they waited until their hair fell out and their teeth rotted. The example of two women sharing a room is repeated to make the same point: when Yin and Yang are incompatible, no amount of matchmaking can make them complement and complete one another.

If medicines are not of the same kind, but differ in name and nature, and their quantities and measures are out of balance, their governing principles lost, then all efforts are useless. Even if the Yellow Emperor personally tended the furnace, Taiyi, a Daoist deity, controlled the firing, the Eight Lords, legendary immortals, pounded and refined the medicine, and the King of Huainan prepared the ingredients; even if they built an altar on a high platform, laid its steps with jade, offered dried flesh of qilin and phoenix, held ritual texts and knelt in prayer, pleading for the compassion of the gods and spirits, and bathed and fasted with eager hope, it would still make no difference. This would be like mending a pot with glue or treating a sore with mud; trying to banish cold by adding ice, or to reduce fever with boiling water. Even if one made a tortoise fly and a snake dance, the result would only be greater confusion. The comparison with alchemical medicine shows that ingredients must be compatible, and their quantities and firing times properly matched. External rites and prayers cannot make up for errors in the fundamental conditions.

The sages of old embraced the mysterious Dao and kept to their original nature. Through ingesting and refining the medicines of the Nine Tripods, the vessels used in Daoist alchemy, they withdrew from the world’s sight. They nurtured their Jing and Qi and cared for their Shen, enabling their De to reach the sun, moon, and stars. Their bodily fluids became abundant, their skin and pores flowed freely, and their sinews and bones grew strong, driving out the many harmful influences. Upright Qi kept the body cool. If the image of the tortoise and snake is used indiscriminately, it only leads further away from the right path.

The sages of antiquity held profound, mysterious principles in their hearts and remained steadfast in the true Dao. They consumed and refined the ingredients of the Nine Tripods—a term for the vessels used in Daoist alchemy, and also for the art itself—while concealing their traces and remaining unseen by the world. They cultivated Jing, Qi, and Shen, bringing their own De into harmony with the sun, moon, and stars. Their bodily fluids nourished the skin and its tissues, strengthening their muscles and bones. Every kind of malign influence was driven away, while upright Qi endured. After long years of cultivation, they ultimately transformed their bodies and became immortals.

Taking pity on later generations who loved Daoist arts, they followed old clues to explain ancient texts and compose books and diagrams for posterity. Yet these writings revealed only the branches while hiding the root; they were also attributed to various “stone” texts and mixed with mistaken claims. Those who studied them treasured them all their lives, passing them from father to son and grandson to grandson. Generation after generation remained bewildered and never grasped the essentials. Some gave up official careers, others neglected farming, and still others abandoned trade; those with lofty aspirations instead fell into poverty. I feel deep sorrow over this, and so I have compiled and recorded this text. Its wording is concise and its meaning easy to understand; its account is brief and uncluttered, with each point set out in turn for convenient checking. The quantities of the ingredients are fixed and can be followed in sequence. I have therefore written this miscellaneous treatise as an entryway into the subject. Those of wisdom should ponder it carefully and investigate it with full attention.

The patterns displayed by Heaven and Earth are greater than any others. The deep, far-reaching River of Heaven stretches for tens of thousands of miles; the Drumstick star lies near the region of Xingji, and changes in the celestial signs fill people with alarm. The sun’s position is anomalous, seeming to move forward and backward, while ominous signs persist for nine years. The ruler observes these signs and withdraws to examine and correct himself. The pivots of Heaven and Earth’s movements rise and fall, and the Qi of calamity then recedes. The Yangtze and Huai seem to run dry, yet their waters flow into the sea. The Yin and Yang Qi between Heaven and Earth respond to one another like female and male, moving back and forth between the Zi and Wu directions. Yin and Yang change at the fundamental directions of Yin and Shen: their Qi comes and goes in a cycle, ending only to begin again. They follow the Dipper’s course, setting the Yaoguang star official in motion, holding the balance-like measure and determining the order of the seasons.

Place the ingredients in a vessel shaped like a mountain and steam them over a strong fire. The White Tiger (symbolizing Metal and Yin Qi) leads the way, while the Azure Fluid (a blue-green liquid symbolizing the medicinal solution) follows to harmonize them. The Vermilion Bird (symbolizing Fire and Yang Qi) soars within the furnace, and the solution takes on five colors. Suddenly it is as if a net has closed over it: pressed down, it cannot rise. It gives a mournful cry, like an infant longing for its mother.

The ingredients tumble into the boiling cauldron, their featherlike forms crushed. Before half a clepsydra has elapsed, the surface rises like fish scales and fins. Five-colored radiance flashes, shifting without settling into any fixed form. The solution surges and boils in the cauldron, churning fiercely without pause. It gathers in layer upon layer, interlocking like the teeth of dogs. Its coagulated forms resemble ice in the depths of winter, and stalactites emerging between railings: uneven in height, piled across one another, and mutually supporting.

When Yin and Yang are properly joined, they become still and tranquil, and remain together without parting. The Azure Dragon (symbolizing Wood) dwells at the sixth star of the Fang lunar mansion, representing the vitality of spring in the eastern Mao position. The White Tiger dwells at the seventh star of the Mao lunar mansion, representing the sharp force of autumn in the western You position. The Vermilion Bird dwells at the second star of the Zhang lunar mansion, representing pure Yang in the southern Wu position. The three gather together, as family and friends assembled under one roof.

At the root there are only two things, but as they develop they appear in many forms, such as three and five. In the end, three and five unite as one, all converging at the two root points. Refine and process them according to the method described above, and let the required number of days follow the earlier instructions.

The substance first refined is white, then later turns yellow. Taking the black medicine allows its potency to reach both the inside and the outside. This is called the “First Ding” (the furnace vessel used in the first stage of alchemical refining). The pill taken is about the size of a large millet grain. This results from natural transformation; it is neither sorcery nor a way of deception.

The vapors of mountains and marshes rise and mingle, forming clouds that release rain. When soil dries out, it eventually becomes dust; when fire goes out, its ashes turn back into earth. Just as dye can color cloth yellow and indigo can turn silk green, boiled hides become glue, and fermented yeast becomes wine. Such transformations are easy to bring about because things of the same kind respond to one another. Without the corresponding materials, the process is difficult to carry out skillfully.

This subtle method must be examined with care; it is no deceitful teaching. It will be passed down to later generations, its contents clear and open to verification. Its brilliance is like the stars in the Milky Way, and its clarity like the many rivers flowing into the sea. One must think it through thoroughly and repeatedly compare the passages above and below. After reading it a thousand times, its meaning will gradually become clear; after ten thousand readings, one may perhaps see its principles plainly. At times, the spirits may offer a revelation, and a person may suddenly understand. By tracing the beginnings and investigating the threads of its development, one can ultimately find a way in. Heaven’s Dao favors no one, and often transmits its principles to the worthy.

The Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) originally set out only the general meaning. Its arguments were not entirely consistent; some passages were broad in scope, while finer details were left incomplete. The work was somewhat diffuse, and its meaning not sufficiently clear. It has therefore now been recopied, its omissions supplied, its obscure passages polished, and related ideas linked together, so that the intentions throughout are consistent and their directions do not conflict. This further work has accordingly been written and named the Wuxianglei (Five Categories of Correspondence), so that the principles and meaning of the Great Changes (the Great Dao embodied in the Zhouyi) are all encompassed.

The principles and meaning of the Great Changes each have their proper measures. The principles employed by the Yellow Emperor and Laozi can be grasped through comparison and careful examination. The art of refining elixirs in the furnace, too, has a sound basis. These three paths all arise from the same root and ultimately lead to the same way.

Branches, stems, flowers, leaves, and the fruit they bear all depend on the root. When the root’s place is clear, its underlying order will not be lost. These words come from a sincere heart; examine them carefully, and you will find no error.

This is like the depths of winter, when bamboo and trees are battered and damaged. A person should support Yang and gather the mind inward, like a ruler hidden from view. To act in keeping with the season, one must close the mouth and remain still, nurturing the root without losing its nature. These words come from a sincere heart; examine them carefully, and you will find no error.

Just as in midwinter, bamboo and trees are battered and damaged, so when Yin energy is strong, Yang energy must be supported, and people should become still and withdraw into seclusion. The ruler, too, should dwell deep within and keep to quiet places. To accord with the season, one should keep silent and speak little. The Way of Heaven is vast and boundless; the Great Mystery, profound and unfathomable, has no fixed form. It is so empty and still that it cannot be seen, and neither its extent nor its outline can be found. To speculate recklessly about it is to get things wrong; words that go against reason will only lead one into error. These four images, which illustrate the seasons and the changes of Yin and Yang, are explained one by one so that later students may understand their meaning.

I am a humble man from Kuaiji, an old and weary dweller in a secluded valley. I hold fast to a simple and genuine nature and take no pleasure in feasts or honors. I live in a remote, humble place and give no thought to fame or profit. I uphold tranquility and simplicity, and hope for peace in the age. Settling into quiet seclusion, I therefore composed this work, singing of the Great Changes—the Zhouyi—and the teachings left by the three sages Fuxi, King Wen of Zhou, and Confucius. I examined their purpose and brought them together under a single guiding principle.

The essentials of cultivation lie in following what is right, allowing the spirit to flourish, and enabling wondrous transformations to circulate freely, thereby bringing peace to the four seas. These principles can be set down as a calendar for later generations to follow; putting them into practice in governing is not difficult. One may also guide people to cultivate their nature inwardly, following the natural laws of the teachings of Huang and Lao. With deep De, one returns to the root and source. The Dao is close at hand, within the heart, and never apart from oneself. Hold fast to the One—the state in which the Dao and body-mind are united—and never let it go, and one may endure for a long time.

These practices may also be joined with methods of ingesting substances and arranged according to the relations of Yin and Yang, male and female. The work of tending and regulating them is simple, not complicated. Guide inner cultivation so that people accord with the natural Way described by Huang and Lao. With deep De, one returns to the root and source; the Dao is within oneself, and only by holding fast to the One can one endure. Methods of ingesting substances may also be combined with this, arranged according to the principles of Yin and Yang, male and female. One should cast aside Wudu, whose meaning here is unclear, and the Eight Minerals, mineral substances used in ancient methods of alchemical cultivation.

Methods must be applied with care if things are to be brought to completion. What the world values may be grouped under three headings, whose branches and leaves are intertwined. Their names differ, but their source is one and the same. This is no idle piling up of phrases: the words are meant to complement one another, and perhaps they contain a real truth, like rough stones that are still worth admiring. If I were to speak falsehoods, I would only bring error upon myself. For this reason, I have named this book The Seal of the Unity of the Three. I invite readers to examine its first clues. Its words are few, but its meaning is deep, and students of later generations should follow it.

One must accord with the times and keep far from harm; rely on high mountains and roam through vast expanses, keeping company with spirits and gods. Cast off the mortal form and become an immortal, returning to silence and stillness. Even after a hundred generations, one may sometimes roam among humankind, spread one’s wings, and fly toward the east, west, and south. King Tang once encountered a difficult turn of fortune: floods and droughts followed one another, and the leaves and branches of trees withered and lost their former luxuriance. With the help and support of an auspicious person, one may attain a secure and enduring life.

The alchemical vessel is round, about three inches and five fen in diameter. Its opening is one inch and one fen wide, its rim about two inches thick, and its body one foot and two inches long, with an even thickness throughout. Its widest point is about three inches across. It rests steadily and can retain warmth.

Yin Qi is above, while Yang Qi moves downward. At both ends of the vessel, use strong fire; in the middle, use gentle fire. The process begins after seventy days and ends after thirty more, for a total of two hundred and six days. The fire must be carefully adjusted so that it remains even. Yin fire and the white substance combine with Yellow Sprout Lead, an alchemical ingredient made from lead. The two medicines gather together to assist the practitioner. They nourish the brain, calming and raising Shen and Qi. Only when the medicine rests at the vessel’s center can it be safely preserved. It moves back and forth within the vessel but never leaves it.

As the medicine gradually matures, the person’s nature also becomes pure and unified. In the end, all returns to oneness and comes back to its source. During cultivation, one must be as respectful and cautious as a ruler and minister toward one another. The full cycle of refinement is arduous and requires strict protection; one must not become confused or careless. The path of cultivation is long, deep, and mysterious. Those who understand it can unite with the principles of Heaven and Earth. A small amount of elixir can steady the hun and po souls, grant long life, and lead one to dwell in the realm of immortals.

Those who cherish the Dao should seek out its root, examine the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), determine the proportions of the medicines, and reflect carefully without needless discussion. Keep the formulas hidden and guarded; do not pass them on lightly. Then one may ride a white crane and a dragon, roam through the Great Void, pay homage to the Immortal Lords, record the celestial charts, and be honored as a perfected person.

The language of the Cantong qi is subtle, and the principles it sets out are broad; its wording is delicate, while its meaning reaches far. The text recounts how the Five Emperors, the five rulers of remote antiquity, established their achievements, and draws on the Three Sovereigns, the three legendary sage kings of ancient times, to explain the principles of governing and ordering the state. Rulers and ministers each have their own duties. Without standards for those above and below, government cannot be orderly or bring about peace.

Taking unusual medicines alone may not ensure longevity, and cultivating one’s nature alone may not extend one’s years. The author examines Yin-Yang, determines their proportions, and studies the changing phases of the moon through its quarters and full moon. Using the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) as images, the text describes the union of Yin and Yang and the changes between firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, while carefully distinguishing the various factors. Throughout, the author grounds his account in the classics, showing profound care and insight. He therefore established these principles and passed them on to worthy people of later generations. Those who investigate and understand the greater patterns—the overall principles expressed through images—may hope to attain longevity. Practitioners of this Way should give it their serious and devoted attention.