《周易参同契发挥》Vol. 2

The phrase “burning the elixir, with the flames directed downward, thereby making the Yellow River flow backward” describes the furnace fire blazing during alchemical work. The inner “Yellow River”—a symbol for the essence and Qi within the body—seems to flow in reverse. This is precisely the fire needed for the process of refinement. The Wuzhen pian says, “The tiger leaps and the dragon soars; winds and waves surge. In the central, proper position, the Mysterious Pearl is born.” The Cuixu pian says, “The dragon roars and the tiger howls; lead and mercury mingle.” These lines describe the Dantian fire blazing as the movement of Qi rises and swirls, as if clouds and mist were filling the air and wind were stirring in the Niwan Palace, accompanied by the forceful sounds of a roaring dragon and howling tiger. Peng Helin’s Yuanshu ge also says that when one returns after receiving the instructions and tries the practice, in an instant it is like dragons and tigers locked in combat, while at night wind and thunder shake the ten thousand mountains. Those who have experienced it themselves will understand what this is like.

“Begin with the gentle fire for cultivation; in the end, bring forth the martial fire” means that cultivation should begin with a gentle fire and conclude with a martial fire. At the start of gathering the medicine, gather the spirit and concentrate the Qi, while regulating the breath through the nose. Once spirit and Qi have returned to their root, holding the breath too tightly makes it hurried, while releasing it too much lets it scatter. The breath should be long and continuous, without interruption. In this way, the spirit gradually settles of itself, and the breath gradually becomes steady. Then the Xun Gate—the symbolic portal through which the breath enters and leaves—thunders, and the dragon soars and the tiger leaps. Guide the movement of Qi back from the Tail Gate, the aperture at the base of the spine, then send it into the Heavenly Thoroughfare, the symbolic ascending passage, all the way upward. Wang Baoyi explains that the gentle fire brings forth growth, while the martial fire helps things congeal and mature. Since growth comes first and the fruit forms in the end, one should begin with the gentle fire and finish with the martial fire; the two cannot be treated as though they were the same.

“Observe the signs with heightened care; examine them closely and adjust cold and warmth” means that one must be especially cautious when observing the firing phases, carefully discerning and regulating heat and cold. Close off the ears and eyes, lower the gaze inward, and gather the mind. Wait quietly for the movement of Qi to arrive, then steady the breath to gather the medicine and kindle the fire for refinement. One must also discern whether the firing phase is still tender or has become mature, and never act rashly. The Wuzhen pian says that cultivation depends entirely on perseverance, and that even a slight error prevents the Elixir from forming. This shows that the process must not be taken lightly. To examine cold and warmth is to regulate the intensity of the fire and carefully control its pace, increasing it gradually rather than rushing ahead. The Fuming pian says that the firing phases must be handled steadily and cautiously, and that the fire is fanned entirely by Xun wind, the breath’s symbolic wind. For this reason, one must be even more careful not to intensify it suddenly.

The twelve stages (the twelve double-hours or positions of the celestial cycle) correspond to the twelve earthly branches. Applied to the human body, they represent the timing and positions used in Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation. As the firing process unfolds, it rises from the Zi position to the Wu position, then descends from Wu, circulating around the crucible just as the twelve earthly branches cycle ceaselessly in the heavens. Once all twelve stages have completed a circuit, the celestial cycle is complete and Tiangang turns back to the Zi position. Hence the saying: “Circling through the twelve stages, when each stage is complete, observe again with closer attention.” The hexagrams Zhen, Dui, Xun, Gen, and Kun mentioned in the Cui Xu Pian likewise use hexagram images to describe this process.

“The Qi seems cut off, and life is about to end; let the hun and po souls die” describes a state during the alchemical process in which the breath seems to cease and life appears close to ending. “Death” here does not mean actual death; it is a manifestation of returning to the root and restoring life, as spirit and Qi gather and consolidate. In the language of Neidan cultivation, all the channels return to their source at this point; the pulse and breathing stop, and the breath becomes so faint it seems cut off. As the Golden Liquid congeals, the sun-soul and moon-soul also seem to sink into the northern sea’s depths, hidden away from view. If the breath then stirs again, it is like “coming back to life after a great death.” This state can be understood only through direct experience in cultivation.

When the color changes to purple, it shines brilliantly and becomes the restored Elixir. The Cui Xu Pian says “casting off yellow and donning purple,” referring to the restored Elixir’s final emergence in a bright, purple-gold color after repeated revolutions of the river chariot and the firing process has matured. “River chariot” is a Neidan term for the practice that drives the movement of Jing and Qi within the body.

Swallowing even one particle of this extremely tiny elixir brings the most wondrous effects.

The Cui Xu Pian says that gathering the medicine and refining the elixir take only a moment. A subtle current of Qi then passes through the Three Passes—the three gateways through which Qi moves in Neidan cultivation. It flows without pause between them, and a white channel of Qi reaches straight to the Mudball Palace, the site of Neidan cultivation in the head. Above the Mudball Palace stands a purple-gold cauldron. Inside it, a purple-gold elixir condenses, then transforms into jade-like liquid that flows into the mouth. It tastes sweet and fragrant, cool and refreshing, and spreads across the tongue. Once swallowed, it enters the five organs, bringing ease to the inner organs and health to the body.

When the Returning Elixir enters the mouth, it is sweet and fragrant like sugar, and cool like luo□—the original text is missing a character here, so the substance meant is unclear. The term “knife-tip measure” refers to an extremely tiny amount, like the tip of a knife or the corner of a jade tablet. Once cultivation is complete, it brings wondrous powers of transformation beyond measure, nothing like the minor arts of heterodox paths. Calling it “divine and wondrous” is indeed apt.

The “Heaven one, Earth two; Heaven three, Earth four; Heaven five, Earth six; Heaven seven, Earth eight; Heaven nine, Earth ten” described in the Classic of Changes are the numbers by which the Five Phases come into being. Zihuazi says that among the great numbers between Heaven and Earth, none is greater than five, and none stands more centrally. Five is the number of Earth, whose position is at the center. Combine it with one, the number of Water in the north, and the result is six; combine it with two, the number of Fire in the south, and the result is seven; with three, the number of Wood in the east, and the result is eight; and with four, the number of Metal in the west, and the result is nine.

Nine is the limit of number: when the numbers of the world reach nine, they come to an end. Arranged from one to nine, five lies between one, two, three, four and six, seven, eight, nine; it is indeed the central number. Number itself originally has no ten. The so-called completed number of Earth, ten, is formed when the numbers of the north, south, east, and west—one, two, three, and four—gather at the center and combine.

Thus, when the central five is distributed to the four directions, it produces six, seven, eight, and nine. Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal all depend on Earth for their generation. Conversely, when the numbers one, two, three, and four from the four directions return to the center and combine as ten, Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal all return to their source and gather within Earth. This account uses the numerical patterns of the Five Phases to explain that all things arise from the central Earth and can also return to it.

The Wuzhen pian says, “The two things both arise because the child gives birth to the mother; the Five Phases must all enter the center.” The Hunyuanzhang says, “The four positions are clearly used in reverse; the Five Phases arise together and return together.” Both passages explain the same principle. Even a three-foot-tall child can recite and understand the numbers by which the Five Phases come into being. But how many people understand the principle within them—where it ultimately leads and how it is put into practice? If one does not understand where it finally returns, how can one grasp its practical use? This shows how profound and subtle the essential meaning of the Dao is, and how far beyond reach its heavenly workings are. Those who understand grasp the essentials and find them simple and easy; those who are confused only make things more complicated as they search, and find them increasingly difficult.

When water rushes against fire, the flames suddenly go out. The Sun and Moon eclipse one another, and such eclipses often occur around the dark and new moons. When Water grows strong, Kan Water overwhelms Yang energy; when Fire weakens, Li Fire dims the light of day. Yin and Yang wax and wane, each consuming and absorbing the other in turn, thereby revealing the Dao’s hidden and mysterious workings.

When water strikes fire, the flames are immediately extinguished. When the sun and moon obscure one another, solar and lunar eclipses occur, often around the end and beginning of the lunar month. When water’s force is strong, Kan water overwhelms Li fire; when fire’s force is weak, even daylight appears dim. Yin and Yang respond to one another and wax and wane in turn: this is the natural order.

Shao Kangjie’s Book of Supreme World Ordering says that solar and lunar eclipses result from the meeting of Qi and its cyclical forces: when the moon moves opposite the sun, a lunar eclipse may occur; when the moon covers the sun, a solar eclipse occurs. This is like water and fire overcoming one another. When water strikes fire, it suppresses the flames, which go out at once. When the Great Yin (the moon, and by extension Yin) obscures the sun, Yang Qi is suppressed by Yin Qi, and daylight grows dim. When Yin and Yang meet, they may obscure one another; this is the way of nature. Wei Boyang uses solar and lunar eclipses to explain the mysteries of the alchemical Way, and clarifies them further through the principle of water and fire overcoming one another. His account is remarkably thorough. Yet solar and lunar eclipses often occur at the end and beginning of the lunar month. Shouldn’t those who refine the Golden Elixir, taking Heaven and Earth as their model and seizing the transformations of creation, seek to understand the “dark moon and new moon” timing described here?

“Name” establishes the emotional aspect, while “designation” connects to the innate nature. Only when Metal returns to the beginning of nature can it be called the “returning Elixir.” The Treatise on Returning to the Mandate says, “One thing divides into two; understand the names of the two.” Here, “two” means Metal and Wood. Since Metal and Wood are not originally two separate entities, Metal is called the “name” and Wood the “designation.” If Wood is called “nature,” then Metal is “emotion”; in reality, they remain one and the same thing.

The Metal Lord, an alchemical symbol for Metal, was originally the son of the eastern household. Sent to live as a guest with a western neighbor, he still cannot be called the returning Elixir. Only when he is sent into the eastern Yang furnace of transformation, returns home, and meets the Blue Maiden, an alchemical symbol for Wood, can they form a bright pearl, round as the full moon. Only then can it be called the returning Elixir. The Treatise on Returning to the Mandate’s phrase “one thing divides into two” likewise describes one thing dividing into the two symbols of Metal and Wood.

Some say that when the mind is still and unmoving, emotion returns to nature, and so this is called the returning Elixir. This view has merit, but it is not what Wei Boyang means in this chapter by “Metal as emotion and Wood as nature.”

I dare not invent anything out of thin air. I have only imitated the wording of the ancient sages to record the Golden Flower praised by the Dragon and Tiger and the Yellow Emperor, along with the Autumn Stone refined by the Master of Huainan and the Yellow Sprout extolled by Wang Yang.

The “dragons and tigers,” “the golden florescence of the Yellow Emperor,” “autumn stone of Huainan,” and “yellow sprouts of Wang Yang” mentioned in ancient books are all borrowed names that carry profound meanings. When Wei Boyang wrote this book, he was neither making things up out of thin air nor freely advancing groundless theories. Following the example of the ancients, he expressed his intent in obscure language. Zhu Xi said that every term in the book had a basis in ancient texts, and he was quite right.

A worthy person can uphold the Dao and put it into practice; do not let someone of poor character take part.

Guzi studied with Zihuazi for twelve years. When his studies were complete, he took leave and set off home. Zihuazi cautioned him: “I find nothing to fault in what you have learned. But your mind is too broad in its interests, and you are inclined to gather and impart knowledge widely. I fear that one day you will meet someone skilled at selecting and taking what they want. They will strip away the outer walls of your house and build their own courtyard in its place; climb into your carriage and drive it far and wide; and destroy the things you treasure as jade discs, dividing them into five pieces. That is what comes of gathering and imparting knowledge too widely. I fear you will meet someone like this.

“The Dao, by its very nature, fears having no one to pass it on. If no one transmits it, its continued transmission is hindered. But the Dao also fears being passed on to someone unsuited to receive it; transmitting it to the wrong person damages it just as much. Now that you are leaving, if you choose carefully whom you teach, I will have nothing to fault.”

Wei Boyang’s words, “The worthy can uphold and practice it; the unworthy must not join them,” express a deep concern. People of poor character are frivolous and shallow, and those who are frivolous and shallow easily disregard what is right. Few can resist the temptation to misuse the bow of Hou Yi, the archer. The “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” says: “This Dao is supremely divine and sacred; do not reveal it. Teach it without care, and all depends on De; the two must be in accord. Be cautious in speech, and avoid what is forbidden.” This means that the Great Dao of the Golden Elixir—the Daoist path of Neidan cultivation—should be passed on only to worthy people. If someone is unsuited to receive it, one should not discuss it with them and may even keep one’s distance. Alas, throughout history, the people described in biographies as having attained the Dao and transcended the world have mostly been outstanding figures, able to ride cranes and clouds and rise above the mundane. They were certainly not dull or inept. How could the unworthy understand such things?

From ancient times to the present, the Dao (the Way)—the fundamental principle governing the cosmos and cultivation—has been explained through this passage of dialogue.

When a person attains this “One,” the foundation of the Dao, all things can be understood as connected. How vast this One is! It is the source of the myriad scriptures and treatises, and the foundation of all transformations. Indeed, there are not two different Daos under Heaven, nor do sages have two different minds. What the myriad volumes of immortal scriptures teach ultimately comes to the same thing. The Golden Elixir, the aim of Daoist Neidan cultivation, is founded on this.

Scholars should devote themselves more earnestly to these words: keep them in mind and ponder their most important principles again and again. Wei Boyang says these essentials have been stated with complete clarity, plainly visible, and that he has not deceived us. If scholars reflect repeatedly on this book, then one day, when its meaning dawns on them, they will understand that the essentials I have described are indeed clear and manifest, without concealment or deception. Ah, Wei Boyang’s earnest care in guiding later students is truly heartfelt. How could scholars fail to trust and accept his words, recite his book, keep its contents in mind, and ponder them again and again?

Elucidation of the Zhouyi Cantong Qi, Volume Two

By Yu Yan of the Song dynasty

Middle Section

Qian is strong and firm; Kun is yielding and receptive. The two work together, matching and containing one another.

Human breathing has truly great significance. Zhang Zai, styled Hengqu, says in Correcting Youthful Ignorance that breathing resembles the interplay of firmness and softness, and the opening and closing transformations of Qian and Kun. What is “breath”? It is simply one inhalation and one exhalation.

When a person exhales, the pulse beats twice and Qi moves three cun; when a person inhales, the pulse also beats twice and Qi likewise moves three cun. In one full cycle of breathing, Qi moves six cun in all. If we use the ancients’ reckoning of a day and night as one hundred ke, a person breathes about 13,500 times in a day and night. Qi travels 810 zhang, circulating up and down without cease, its beginning and end difficult to trace.

Before birth, a person lives in the mother’s womb and breathes along with her. The child can neither see nor hear; only a single breath is present. After birth, when the umbilical cord is cut, a little True Primordial Qi—the fundamental energy of life—gathers below the navel. As the days pass, the activity of the mind and spirit and the flow of Qi and breath cause a person to stop keeping to that single breath as they did in the womb.

The methods by which immortals cultivate are to turn the light inward—to gather the mind and spirit and contemplate within—and breathe the Qi of Great Harmony, breathing evenly and calmly. In this way, one returns to the root and source, back to the time when life first began and one received primordial Qi. Xu Jingyang’s Song of the Immortal Drunken with Thought says, “Within, join with True Qi and preserve it through breathing; naturally, creation returns the youthful face.” The Song of the Great Way of the Numinous Source says, “A thousand scriptures and ten thousand treatises discuss hidden mysteries; the root of life has always rested in True Breathing.” These words all point out that seeking outside oneself through false doctrines and misguided practices is not the natural way.

Wei Boyang’s account of Qian’s firmness joining with Kun’s softness, each embracing the other, refers to the alchemical process in which Yang of Qian descends to join Yin of Kun. Breath contains breath, firmness and softness are brought into balance, and they unite like husband and wife, becoming one. In this way, Shen and Qi can return to the root, nature and life can be brought together, and the ingredients of the elixir can be conceived within. This state is also called “the union of Dragon and Tiger,” “the joining of Metal and Wood,” “the intertwining of Tortoise and Serpent,” “the union of Red and Black,” “the harmonious union of Heaven and Earth,” “the mingling of Dark and Yellow,” “the blending of Metal and Earth,” “Metal and Mercury in the same cauldron,” “Metal and Fire in the same furnace,” “the joining of Red and White,” “the Sun and Moon in the same palace,” “the Crow and Hare in the same nest,” “the joyful union of husband and wife,” “the meeting of the Oxherd and Weaver Girl,” “the following of male and female,” “the joining of Hun and Po,” or “Water and Earth in the same homeland.” Ultimately, all these expressions mean no more than that the mind and spirit depend on the breath, Yin and Yang respond to each other within, and Shen and Qi bind together.

Yang is received from Yin; the masculine and feminine depend on one another.

Yang is received from Yin. This can also be described as the female and male following one another, the Hun and Po souls joining, or water and earth dwelling together. At a deeper level, it is simply the mind and breath depending on each other, allowing Yin and Yang to respond to one another within the body, and Shen and Qi to unite.

Yang is received from Yin; the masculine and feminine depend on one another.

“Yang is received from Yin” is like a flower blooming like fine jade while dewdrops gather: the bud gradually opens as the dew gradually fills it. “The masculine and feminine depend on one another” is like the Jia dragon and Geng tiger—alchemy terms for complementary Yin and Yang energies—following one another. Lead and mercury, symbols of two substances or forces that work together in alchemy, must be placed in the same furnace before they can be refined. “Received” and “depend on one another” both refer to the union of Yin and Yang.

All things arise from the union of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth. In the methods of the Elixir, the union of Yin and Yang likewise produces the medicine. Without union, the work of creation cannot be accomplished. The Book of Jade Zhi says, “If the dark and the yellow do not unite, how can Yang energy rise and fly from the Kan position?” This is the fundamental principle of alchemy and the foremost teaching of cultivating immortality. The Song of the Great Dao by Yuan Yangzi says, “The dark Heaven is vast; it is joined with yellow Earth. When the two feelings harmonize, they enter the inner chamber.” This expresses the same idea. The Treatise on Returning the Gold says that ancient sages once revealed the mysteries of the Elixir Terrace—the inner bodily site associated with Neidan practice—and that the numinous crow repeatedly roosts on the cassia tree’s branches. The Treatise on Returning to the Origin says that the Western Metal Mother, symbolizing Yin force, is firm and strong, and enters the Ren position, symbolizing the direction of water, to conceal herself. The Treatise on Awakening to Reality says that the red dragon and black tiger, symbols of Yin and Yang forces, unite in the west and east, while the Four Images, representing the interplay of Yin, Yang, and the Five Phases, meet within Wu and Ji, which symbolize the center. The Treatise on Wang Liangqi’s Understanding says that the Hun and Po must be joined, so that Yin is entirely dispelled and transformed into pure Yang. The Treatise on Returning to Destiny says that the hidden, profound principle of the Great Dao is revealed when the sun moves into the moon. The Treatise on Upholding the Correct says that two numinous substances naturally unite, and that their pivotal, wondrous mechanism is to be sought here. The Collection of the Highest Clarity says there is no other method: simply let the spirit-water enter the Flower Pool, the Neidan site that receives and gathers bodily fluids. All of these passages speak of the union of Yin and Yang.

Only by understanding this principle can one produce the medicine and form the embryo. Then, by mastering the firing times—the timing and stages of the alchemical process—and refining and nourishing the medicine, one will see signs such as the Heavenly Drum resounding and jade dust scattering like flying reed ash, before it rises to the Muddy Pellet, the inner cultivation site in the head. If one knows only how Yin and Yang unite but does not understand the firing times, one can only warm and nourish the Lower Origin, the life root in the lower abdomen; this does not yet count as returning the Elixir, by which the inner Elixir is completed and restored to its source.

An ancient song says, “From red into black comes true cultivation; when black enters red, the way of the Celestial Immortal is complete.” The methods of the Elixir differ: there are precelestial and postcelestial stages, as well as Wuwei and action-based approaches. They cannot be treated as one and the same. In the precelestial stage, one gathers the spirit and enters the Kun navel, a site symbolizing Yin and gestation, to produce the medicine. In the postcelestial stage, one shifts the spirit into the Qian summit, symbolizing Yang and the crown of the head, to form the Elixir. The precelestial belongs to Wuwei; the postcelestial belongs to action. They must not be conflated.

In harmony with the workings of creation and transformation in Heaven and Earth, Jing and Qi can then unfold and flow freely.

The Cui Xu Pian says, “Whenever Heaven and Earth join, one should seize the opening in Yin-Yang’s creative transformation.” The “opening” here is the moment when the timing of Heaven and a person’s cultivation resonate and set things in motion together. The human body, too, has its own workings of creation and transformation, which correspond to those of Heaven and Earth. The phrase “in harmony with creation and transformation” emphasizes that the subtlest key lies in coordinating the openings in the timing of Heaven and in the human body. If a person can quiet the mind and gather the spirit, aligning with the transformations of Heaven and Earth, their own creative processes can then proceed with the flow.

The Tian Yin Zi says that if, several times over the 360 days of the year, one guides one’s own Qi to join with the true Qi of Heaven and Earth, one will feel clear and balanced in body, unlike on ordinary days. Through long practice and steady accumulation, one gradually comes into silent accord with the Great Dao and can attain the Way of the immortals. Some say, “If you want to meditate, just sit down. Why bother discerning the origins and pathways of Qi, or choosing the right days?” Such people do not understand the principles of Heaven and Earth’s creative transformation, and there is no point discussing them with them.

Kan and Li—the water and fire trigrams in the Zhouyi, also often used to represent Yin-Yang in cultivation—take precedence, and their radiance spreads downward.

Kan and Li, the images of water and fire in the Yijing, are the sun and moon. The methods of alchemy speak of both the inner sun and moon and the outer sun and moon. The Huangting Jing says, “The sun emerges and the moon enters; preserve them in the breath”—this refers to the sun and moon within the body. It also says, “The three lights shine brilliantly as they enter the chamber of the Zi,” referring to the sun and moon outside the body. The inner and outer sun and moon work together; neither can be dispensed with.

Chapter Thirty-Nine of the Zhixuan says, “When union takes place outside, union also follows within; when the three passes are clear and open, no effort is needed.” In alchemical practice, the inner sun and moon unite Jing and Qi within the body, while the outer sun and moon reflect their radiance beyond it. When the inner and outer converge and remain undispersed for a long time, an indistinct, ineffable scene appears: there seems to be something within it; in the deep darkness, Jing and Qi seem to be present; and across the empty expanse, lights like white snow shimmer and cross one another.

The sun and moon illuminate Heaven and Earth. Mussels and clams absorb their light and produce pearls; solid stone gathers their light and becomes jade. How much more, then, can a human body, which already contains the sun and moon, turn their radiance back to illuminate itself, form its own pearl, and gestate its own jade? The Shangqing Ji says, “The wondrous workings of Qian and Kun’s rotation lie, for the most part, in Kan and Li. Why does jade lie within stone? Why does a pearl dwell in a mussel’s belly? Through these, the secret workings of Heaven are revealed.” This may be called the Great Dao right before our eyes.

Though the Great Dao is right before our eyes, some who study the Dao still fail to understand it. This is only because the secret workings of Heaven are so close at hand: the benighted often pass them by and so fail to see them.

The mysterious and profound principles are difficult to fathom and cannot be rendered in a diagram. The sages sought them out, measured them, and tested them against experience, then explained their foundations in sequence.

The Great Elixir Formula of the Red Dragon says: “There is something called Dark Mystery, from which the Golden Elixir is born.” It is silent, boundless, subtle, and impossible to fathom. How could it be drawn as a figure? Since it cannot be drawn, one can only understand it inwardly. Yet even if one understands it oneself, how can one help others understand? For this reason, the sages used symbols and words to help people quietly grasp its essential points. They investigated the hidden and subtle principles, clarified the most delicate realms of the precelestial, and used various metaphors to explain the fundamental basis of the Golden Elixir. This is why alchemical scriptures and books were handed down, and why the Cantong qi was written in the style of the Book of Changes.

“Primordial foundation” means the basis. The Wuzhen pian says: “To keep the Valley Spirit alive and undying, one must establish a foundation through the Mysterious Female.” The Mysterious Female here is a symbolic expression in alchemy. Converting lead and refining mercury—that is, regulating and cultivating Yin-Yang and refining the elixir—depends on the Mysterious Female. It is therefore used as a metaphor for the foundation of the Return Elixir. According to this passage, when a man establishes the Mysterious Female, his Jing and Qi can be kept firm; when a woman establishes it, menstruation ceases. If practitioners do not understand this, how can the ingredients arise, the Return Elixir coalesce, or the timing of the firing process be applied?

“The four merge in undifferentiated chaos and enter directly into emptiness.”

The four trigrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li combine into a single whole, and so are called “Chaos”—a state in which things are mixed together and not yet divided. The Zhipian says, “Offshoots extend without end, their branches and patterns joined; north, south, east, and west naturally converge.” This describes Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li joining as one. Once the four become one, spirit and Qi return to their root, entering directly into a deep and subtle realm of emptiness whose nature is difficult to know. The Song of the Great Dao of the Numinous Source says, “When all is blended into one, then even that one is forgotten; one can enter and leave, changing together with the work of creation.” This is what it means.

Yet the “emptiness” spoken of by alchemists does not mean having no thoughts at all, like withered wood and cold ashes. The Wenzi Tongxuan Zhenjing says, “In darkness, one sees and yet there is understanding; in silence, one listens and yet there is awareness.” This describes a wondrous state that cannot be conveyed in words. Some people do not understand this and mistake it for the stillness and emptiness spoken of in Chan Buddhism. That is an error. If Golden Elixir cultivation were simply Chan practice, one could practice Chan directly. Why, then, go through the many intricate stages involving Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li, and why would one have to penetrate Yin-Yang and deeply understand the transformations of creation before attaining realization?

The sixty hexagrams are arranged in sequence to form a carriage. The dragon-horse is harnessed to it, and the enlightened ruler drives it at the appointed time. When the seasons are in harmony, the attendants can proceed smoothly along a level, straight road. If they take a crooked path, the way becomes perilous, and the state will be overturned and brought to ruin.

In the method of alchemical cultivation, Qian and Kun—the trigrams symbolizing Heaven and Earth—serve as the crucible, while Kan and Li—the trigrams symbolizing Water and Fire—serve as the ingredients. The remaining sixty trigrams, from Tun and Meng through Jiji and Weiji, are arranged in a ring around the crucible to represent changes in the timing of the fire as it moves through the cosmic cycle. Hence the saying: “Arrange the sixty trigrams, and they become a carriage.” Once the carriage is in place, all sixty trigrams are at my command, and I can take the reins of the dragon horse.

The Shangqing Yuzhen Taixi Jue says: “I take Shen as my carriage and Qi as my horse, driving them all day without tiring.” To be untiring means to make use of them continuously without exerting oneself deliberately. One neither forgets them altogether nor clings to them; they are kept in a state between presence and absence, without strain or urgency.

Guangchengzi said to the Yellow Emperor: “I hold fast to purity and oneness, and rest in peace and harmony. Thus I cultivated myself for twelve hundred years, and my body never grew old.” The human body is like a state, and the mind is like its ruler. When the mind is settled, Shen gathers and the breath becomes harmonious. The Three Palaces—the three important regions within the body in Daoist teaching—rise and descend naturally, and the hundred vessels flow freely. Persist in cultivation, and there is no one who cannot become an immortal.

The Gushenzi Liaoran Lun says: “The way of nourishing the body takes utmost Shen as its foundation, utmost Jing as its ingredient, balanced harmony as its operation, and Wuwei (non-action) as its governance. Through Wuwei, Shen gathers; when Shen gathers, harmonious Qi converges; when harmonious Qi converges, the foundation grows firm. Once the foundation is firm, the way of long life and enduring vision can be fulfilled.” Without following this principle, one is not practicing the method of the Golden Liquid Great Returning Elixir.

In general, the movement of Qi and blood through the body depends on freedom from disturbance. The method of cultivation is exceedingly simple: embrace the Origin and preserve oneness, concentrate Qi and make it supple, becoming gentle like an infant. Alchemical cultivation requires no other technique: simply empty the mind and remain still, letting Shen settle into the Qi cavity. Allow the breath to come and go naturally, continuously and without interruption. In time, Shen will gather of itself and the breathing will settle of itself. When the breathing settles, Qi gathers; when Qi gathers, the Elixir is formed. There is no need to labor over massage and guiding exercises, breath regulation and exhalation, or visualization and inner contemplation.

The Neizhi Tongxuan Mijue says: “When the sun goes, follow it as it goes; when the moon comes, follow it as it comes. Follow it in and out, never leaving the Elixir Terrace.” From this, we can see that the way of the Great Elixir brings transformation through a single substance: Primordial Harmonious Qi. There is no other path.

The Book of Changes says, “When a gentleman speaks well at home, people a thousand miles away respond.” It is like a king who holds the dignity of ruling ten thousand chariots and lives deep within his palace: if he speaks appropriately, people far away will respond. Those who cultivate the Dao should gather in their spirit’s radiance and quietly observe within. When they reach a state of utmost emptiness and stillness, the Qi of Heaven and Earth will naturally converge within them. The principle here is that when one side is moved, the other responds. This is the natural order.

When a king issues decrees, he should follow the seasons of Yin and Yang. In the first month of spring, the ancient sage kings instructed their ministers to extend benevolence and issue decrees. In the first month of autumn, they instructed their generals to select soldiers and prepare weapons. This, too, followed the seasons and accorded with the changing Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth. If governing a state requires this, how much more so does refining the Elixir and cultivating the Dao?

One must grasp the right moment and wait for it, without violating the days associated with the trigrams. The first requirement of the alchemical method is to understand the moment, and more importantly, to wait for it. Before the moment arrives, simply gather in the spirit’s radiance and wait quietly; do not act ahead of time. The Treatise on Returning the Gold says, “Do not miss the moment; remain steadfast at the first arising of Yang.” The Song of the Three Medicines by Xu Jingyang says, “Keep the mind still and cut off thoughts, awaiting the essence to congeal.” The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mysterious says, “Close the ears and eyes, lower the curtains, and observe silently.” All these passages speak of gathering in body and mind while waiting for the right moment.

When the hour arrives, there is no need to make a deliberate effort: Yin and Yang within naturally join and coalesce. In the chamber of cultivation, one should wait according to the appointed time until a circuit of the Yellow Path—the symbolic route of the celestial circuit—naturally rises. How could one act before the moment?

The Zhun hexagram corresponds to the Zi and Shen days, and the Meng hexagram to the Yin and Xu days. Each of the sixty hexagrams has its own corresponding days. Here, Zhun and Meng are offered only as examples; there is not enough space to explain each one in detail.

The hexagram images of Zhun and Meng are used to explain the sequence of time and the changes of Yin and Yang. Zhun has Zhen below and Kan above. Here, “Zi” and “Shen” refer respectively to the Geng-Zi line at the bottom of Zhen and the Wu-Shen fourth line of Kan. Meng has Kan below and Gen above. Here, “Yin” and “Xu” refer respectively to the Wu-Yin line at the bottom of Kan and the Bing-Xu fourth line of Gen. Zi, Shen, Yin, and Xu can also correspond to Zi, Wu, Mao, and You; to spring, summer, autumn, and winter; to Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire; and to the tortoise, snake, dragon, and tiger. These are all ways of using things to evoke images.

The sequence of the sixty hexagrams begins with Zhun and Meng and ends with Ji Ji and Wei Ji. The Yin and Yang lines in each hexagram alternate and change in different ways, yet some hexagrams are reversals or counterparts of one another and still have correspondences. Wei Boyang says, “For now, I will set out the images of two hexagrams; this cannot yet explain them in full.” He hopes that students will examine Zhun and Meng closely, then reason from them to grasp the meaning of the other hexagrams.

Each hexagram has six lines, so two hexagrams have twelve lines, corresponding to the twelve double-hours of a day. The sixty hexagrams have 360 lines, corresponding to the 360 periods in a month. Through the images of the hexagrams, Wei Boyang discusses the practitioner’s own timing in cultivation—the judgment of when to advance or withdraw during the process of refining and nourishing—and the points at which Yin-Yang change, open, and close. Applied to Xu and Song, this method can be expressed as “Xu uses Zi and Shen; Song uses Yin and Wu.” Applied to Shi and Bi, it becomes “Shi uses Yin and Chou; Bi uses Wei and Shen.” The other hexagrams can be understood in the same way. That is why he says he will first set out the images of only two hexagrams, without discussing each one in detail.

The Wuzhen Pian says, “The Southern and Northern schools’ origins are reflected in the hexagram images; the timing of the fire at dawn and dusk accords with the celestial pivot.” This, too, simply clarifies the same idea. If one clings to the words and hexagram images, insists on calculating every detail of the hexagram structures, and seeks a one-to-one match with the Yin and Yang of the lines, one may toil all day and gain nothing, never discovering the goal of cultivation. Would that not be a pity?

“Where righteousness calls for it, impose punishment; where benevolence calls for it, bestow virtue”: when the circumstances accord with righteousness, apply punishment; when they accord with benevolence, extend kindness.

The Western correspondence is Righteousness; the Eastern correspondence is Benevolence. Punishments are chiefly used to bring about the withering and killing of things, while hidden Virtue governs their growth and nourishment. Thus, carrying out punishments in accordance with Righteousness is meant to refine the Lead of the West; extending kindness and favor in accordance with Benevolence is meant to refine the Mercury of the East.

Lead belongs to Metal. Its nature is exceedingly hard, and it is hidden in Kan, the trigram that represents Water. Only fierce cooking and forceful refining can make it rise, so Lead must be refined under martial fire, an intense level of heat, not gentle fire. Mercury belongs to Wood. Its nature is yielding, and it is hidden in Li, the trigram that represents Fire. At the sight of true Lead, it settles naturally; Mercury must therefore be refined under gentle fire, not martial fire.

The Chongzheng Pian says: “When defending a city, one must employ civil virtue; when fighting in the open, one should first use military strength. These two functions must be clearly distinguished. Follow the circumstances and good fortune will come; go against them and misfortune will follow.” This is the principle being described.

When acting in accordance with the calendar, one must be sincere, focused, cautious, and discreet.

Gao Hongmeng’s “Song of the Dreaming Immortal” says, “There are appointed seasons and days for gathering the medicine; both gathering and taking it must be done with care and secrecy.” Thus, in cultivation one must follow the calendar and the seasons, and master the formula for beginning the work. Only with utmost sincerity, single-mindedness, and discretion, free from even the slightest distracting thought, can one gather the divine mushroom—the spiritual medicine used in cultivation. Likewise, during a year of secluded cultivation, as one turns the spiritual banner within the body from morning until night—the intention and methods used to mobilize Qi in cultivation—one must remain sincere and focused, with the mind undivided. Only then might the Elixir be refined and the person attain immortality. If one treats the Great Dao as a game, carelessly probing and using the secrets of Heaven, cultivation will begin in the morning and stop by evening; this too shows a lack of sincerity. The Yellow Court Scripture says, “Accumulating effort and refining and nourishing until one succeeds do not happen naturally: they depend on sincerity and single-mindedness.”

Among alchemists throughout the ages, none have achieved results without sincerity, and none have accomplished anything without wholehearted focus. In the past, Yi Qiu, a skilled chess player, taught two people to play. One listened intently, attending only to Yi Qiu’s instruction. The other listened too, but was thinking that a swan might fly by and planning to shoot it with a bow and arrow. Though they studied together, the second player’s skill fell short of the first’s. Chess is only a minor skill, yet without focus one cannot learn it well; how much more so the cultivation of the Dao?

Sima Ziwei’s Treatise on Sitting in Forgetfulness says that one should cultivate the Dao only when free of obligations and at ease in quietude. Those who study the Dao should maintain stillness and Wuwei (non-action), and not let external things burden the mind and spirit. If one is tied down by household affairs at home and busy with official duties outside, it is difficult to focus on cultivating the Dao. Zhang Xujing’s “Song of the Great Dao” says, “The spirit governs Qi, and Qi sustains the body. Without practicing other arts, one can naturally attain long life. The arts are easy to learn, but the Great Dao is hard to encounter; even when one encounters it, without single-minded practice, of the thousands and tens of thousands who study it, in the end not even one or two will succeed.” These words are indeed well founded.

Some people studying the Dao today do not understand that the immortal way can be achieved only through long accumulation. They hope to dabble casually for a moment and gain results. They fail to realize that a brief period of effort serves only to form the Elixir; afterward, it must be gently nourished through a year of fire-phase work. During this period of nourishment, whether walking, sitting, sleeping, or eating, one must maintain inner composure, lest the fire-phase cool and the Elixir’s potency languish. How could there be even a moment’s interruption?

Practitioners should carefully observe the days and hours, and attentively discern when Yin and Yang wax and wane.

The Wuzhen pian says that the fullness and decline of Heaven and Earth each have their appointed seasons; only by carefully observing their changes can one understand their crucial principles. It also says that the waxing and waning of the moon correspond to the flourishing and decline of a person’s spirit, while the rising and setting of the sun correspond to the warmth and coldness of the body’s nutritive and defensive Qi. Each month has its own cycle of fullness and decline: the dark moon, new moon, first quarter, and full moon mark the moon’s changes over a month; day and night, dawn and dusk, mark the changes within a day.

The human body takes Heaven and Earth as its model, and the waxing and waning of Qi and blood likewise follow the transformations of nature. The Suwen says that human Qi begins to flourish in the morning, Yang Qi reaches its height at midday, and after sunset Yang Qi weakens and the Qi gates close. It also says that when the moon first appears, blood and Qi begin to fill, and defensive Qi begins to circulate; at the full moon, blood and Qi are abundant and the muscles firm; as the moon wanes, the muscles diminish and the channels become empty. Defensive Qi withdraws, and the body appears isolated and weakened. Thus Heaven and Earth have the changes of day and night, dawn and dusk, and the human body has corresponding changes; Heaven and Earth have the phases of the dark moon, new moon, first quarter, and full moon, and the human body has corresponding fluctuations in fullness and emptiness. The passage of cold and heat and the alternation of Yin and Yang all resemble the workings of Heaven and Earth.

For this reason, the methods of the Elixir use Heaven as the cauldron and Earth as the furnace, take the moon as the measure for the medicinal ingredients, and gather them according to the moon’s fullness and decline. They take the sun as the measure for the firing process, observing its rising and setting to guide activity and stillness. From beginning to end, cultivation should follow the model of Heaven and Earth. For example, the Huangji jingshi shu associates the hour of Yin with the beginning of activity among the myriad things, just as the year begins with the Awakening of Insects; it associates the hour of Xu with the closing and storage of the myriad things, just as the year draws to a close at the Beginning of Winter. Are these sequences not precisely the basis for the Elixir method’s firing process?

During the three double-hours of Hai, Zi, and Chou, the sun has sunk below the horizon and can no longer be seen; the calendar’s count seems to stop as well. At this time, the Qi of the First Yang has just begun to stir, while the myriad things have not yet sprouted. This is the moment that the sages said allows one to perceive Heaven and Earth’s generative vitality. From this, one can encompass Heaven and Earth and bring the myriad things to their proper fulfillment, embodying the principles of creation and transformation in one’s own cultivation. Is this not the time for gathering the ingredients of the Elixir?

Whether withdrawing and adding, applying the firing process, bathing, or joining and congealing, one should follow the transformations of Heaven and Earth in every respect. This is why it is called the “Supreme Dao.” To disregard the changes of Heaven and Earth and seek some other method is to follow a minor, heterodox technique based only on personal conjecture, not the Supreme Dao.

The Huainanzi says that clams, crabs, turtles, and pearls wax and wane with the moon’s changes. It also says that when the moon wanes, the brains of fish diminish, and when the moon is dim, snails and mussels grow thin. Even such tiny creatures respond to the changes of Heaven and Earth; how much more so must human beings? From this we can understand that cultivation around the full moon benefits from more abundant Qi and blood, and the potency of the ingredients is also greater. After the full moon, Qi and blood gradually diminish, and the potency of the ingredients weakens accordingly.

The Cuixu pian says that on the night of the full moon one can gather the Yin and Yang essences of Heaven and Earth and congeal the numinous Elixir. It also says that the union of Yin and Yang is the mother of the Elixir; if the moment is missed, it is pointless to pursue the Dragon and Tiger—terms in internal alchemy for the two Qi of Yin and Yang. The Wuzhen pian says that on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, moonlight is at its brightest and the Golden Essence—the refined Qi used in cultivation—is at its strongest; when the “First Yang” is born, one should promptly advance the fire. Other Elixir scriptures likewise use the bright moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival and the ripening of all things to illustrate the proper time for gathering and refining, while cautioning that the fire must be advanced with care.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month is used here as an analogy; it does not mean that ingredients can be gathered only on that one day of the year. Bai Yuchan, Ziqing, Liao Chanhui, and others say that one should enter the chamber at the Zi hour on the night of the fifteenth day of the eighth month because day and night are equal, Yin and Yang are balanced, the autumn air is clear and crisp, the Golden Essence is flourishing, and the weather is neither cold nor hot—all of which make it suitable for cultivation. The old accounts of immortals forming the embryo at this time mean that cultivation makes use of Heaven and Earth’s Golden Essence and pure Qi. Anyone who fails to understand this and merely tries to absorb moonlight on the night of the fifteenth day of the eighth month is like casting a net to catch the wind or gripping a rope to bind a shadow. This has nothing to do with the Supreme Dao.

In addition, Chao Wenyuan’s Suoyin jishu records that Shi Jianwu, a hermit of Mount Song during the Tang dynasty, once spoke of the Sanjing jing. It says that practitioners should enter the “Three Stillness Passes” to refine Shen and Qi and replenish their lifespan: Great Stillness lasts three hundred days, Intermediate Stillness two hundred days, and Lesser Stillness one hundred days. Shi Jianwu sincerely attempted Lesser Stillness. Beginning on the first day of the first month, the Gengshen day, in the third year of the Kaicheng era under Emperor Wenzong of Tang (the Wuwu year), he shut himself away for quiet cultivation and had no contact with the outside world. He emerged from seclusion only after the hundred days were complete. In less than a month, signs had already appeared: numinous light shone before his eyes, the hundred spirits gathered at his ears, and his mind and spirit became clear. He considered this proof that the secret scriptures of the immortals were not empty words.

Cultivating the Great Elixir should be approached in the same way. Only after settling into stillness for a long time can Shen become clear, Qi become harmonious, and the inner foundation grow firm; only then is one ready to cultivate. If someone is burdened all day by worldly affairs, with bones and sinews worn out and mind and spirit depleted, yet hopes to succeed all at once on the single day of the fifteenth of the eighth month, that will be very difficult indeed.

Even the slightest deviation can turn regret and anxiety into calamity. Once the turning points of the winter and summer solstices fall out of order, the spring and autumn equinoxes also depart from their proper course: the depths of winter become scorching hot, while frost and snow fall in the height of summer. The hours of day and night lose their precision, winds and rains become erratic, floods and droughts alternate, locusts swarm, mountains collapse and the earth splits, strange signs appear in the heavens, and all manner of anomalies follow.

The Wuzhen pian says: “Even if you understand the principles of cinnabar and black lead, without understanding the timing of the fire, your efforts will come to nothing. Alchemical refinement depends entirely on the work of cultivation; the slightest mistake prevents the Elixir from forming.” The “fire” here is not kidney fire conjured by the imagination, but the true fire that naturally moves within the body. Nor does “timing” mean calculating the hours by the marks on a scale; it means the changes in the movement of Qi that arise naturally within the body. Fire grows strong when met by wind and is contained when met by earth. In its use, there must be neither excess nor deficiency. The key is to regulate gentle and forceful firing and distinguish cold from heat: gently fan the fire with Xun-Wind, the trigram that symbolizes wind, and contain and store it with Kun-Earth, the trigram that symbolizes earth. When the firing is just right and deviates in neither direction, neither the greater nor the lesser is harmed, and both are preserved. In a short time, signs of the Elixir’s initial formation will appear. This is what is meant by regulating and applying the firing times. If there is even the slightest deviation, the winter and summer solstices will become confused, north with south, and the spring and autumn equinoxes will fall out of order, east with west. Bitter winter will become scorching summer, hail and snow will fall in the height of summer, lead and mercury—the symbolic substances of Neidan—will scatter, and all kinds of anomalies will follow.

A filial child—here, the Yin and Yang Qi that obey the movements of the Qian Father and Kun Mother—cultivates with sincere attention and can move the Sovereign Center, the central, rightly ordered position that also represents the meeting place of Yin and Yang. Its influence appears nearby in one’s own person and can spread far away to different regions.

The Fuming pian says: “One man and one woman rely on Heaven and Earth; three sons and three daughters together form beginning and end.” The Qian trigram gives birth to three sons, and the Kun trigram to three daughters; together they are called the six children. The Qian Father and Kun Mother occupy the positions above and below, while the six children move between them, rising and descending, coming and going. Since all obey their parents, they are called “filial children.” The Sovereign Center is the rightly ordered position at the center, where the Qi of the eight directions gathers. If the filial children cultivate with sincere attention and connect with the center, it is like a tiger’s roar bringing forth a dragon from its cave, as phoenixes dance in flight and one enters the Golden City, the state of achievement in Neidan cultivation. But if one’s conduct is disordered and fails to accord with the center, the Mysterious Pearl, a symbolic substance formed from concentrated essence and Qi, will burst apart, and the numinous mercury, a symbol of the subtle, changing essence and Qi, will flee. The six children will then cease to be filial and become rebels against the Way of the Elixir.

The Qi of the eight directions ultimately gathers here. If the filial son can focus his awareness, a tiger’s roar will sound, a dragon will emerge from its cave, and phoenixes will dance as they enter the Golden City. Here, “filial son” refers to a practitioner who follows the laws of the alchemical path, while the “tiger,” “dragon,” and “phoenixes” are symbols in internal alchemy. If one’s conduct goes against the Way and loses its measure, the Mysterious Pearl—symbolizing the internal elixir formed from the gathering of Jing and Qi—will burst apart, and the numinous mercury—symbolizing the true mercury within the body—will escape. If the six sons are not filial sons, they become enemies who defy the alchemical path.

This can bring calamity, but it can also bring good fortune; it can foster peace, but it can also provoke the chaos of war. These four outcomes all arise from choices made within the heart.

The Wuzhen Pian says: “Fire is born from wood, and its root conceals a sharp edge. If you do not understand how to investigate it, do not force its use. Calamity often comes when this very thing turns against you; to subdue it, you must find the Golden Lord.” This means that when the foundation of the elixir is present within the body, fire must be applied according to the prescribed method. Pressed by the fire, the Metal Qi begins to move; when it reaches the Palace of Li, the place symbolizing the heart’s fire, it transforms into water and in turn restrains the fire, preventing it from becoming excessive. If one applies fire by force without a foundation of the elixir, insubstantial Yang Qi surges upward and harms the person as if setting them ablaze. This is the difference between inviting calamity and gaining good fortune.

The Wuzhen Pian also says: “The sun and moon meet once every thirty days; change the day according to the season and perform the wondrous work. Whether guarding the city or fighting in the field, understand how to guard against fortune and misfortune; add cinnabar sand until the cauldron is filled with red light.” True lead, symbolizing the Jing and Qi in the waters of the Kidney, is born in the Palace of Kan. It is heavy and turbid, and cannot rise on its own. To subdue the true mercury in the Palace of Li, one should refine it with fierce martial fire. Once it has risen to the Palace of Li and joined with the true mercury, one should preserve the result, bathe it, and nurture it gently, without applying more fire. This brings peace and stability; if the fire is applied incorrectly, calamity may follow. The two outcomes are far apart.

The cause of inviting calamity or gaining good fortune, of fostering peace or provoking the chaos of war, lies nowhere else. By reflecting on one’s own heart, one can understand it.

Activity and stillness alike must follow their proper measure and abide by the laws.

When all things are still and unmoving, returning to their root, the state is like the season symbolized by the Kun hexagram. I wait quietly. At the utmost stillness, movement arises: Yang Qi quietly begins to sprout in the Yellow Bell Palace, the position associated with the winter solstice and the birth of Yang Qi. This is like the season symbolized by the Fu hexagram. I then move in accord with this tendency and respond to it. Thus movement and stillness each have their own fixed pattern, and this is the principle to follow. If stillness is mixed into movement when it is time to move, or movement into stillness when it is time to be still; if one tries to hasten the process too early, or later forgets to take hold of it, then one has failed to follow the principle.

Those of old who attained mastery through cultivation moved like the celestial bodies in their courses and rested in silence like the depths of an abyss. They moved when movement was called for and were still when stillness was called for, each in keeping with a definite standard. Today, some practitioners do not understand that movement and stillness each follow their own rules in the methods of the Elixir. Some speak only of movement, others only of stillness. By “movement,” they mean merely circulating Qi; by “stillness,” they mean only sitting in meditation and entering a state of quiet. Neither understanding is correct. The Zhixuan says, “In everyone, Qi and blood flow freely; the nutritive and defensive Qi, Yin and Yang, circulate through the hundred periods of the day.” Qi and blood, nutritive and defensive Qi, and Yin-Yang Qi already circulate through the body day and night. Why, then, would one need to shut oneself away to practice circulating Qi? That would be like placing a second head on top of one’s own. Circulating Qi is not the “movement” meant here.

The Cuixu pian says, “Only the true workings of Qian and Kun are needed; there is no need to sit rigidly in silence. Without mind or thought, the spirit grows dull—how could it coalesce into an immortal embryo?” Thus meditation is not the “stillness” meant here either. The Jindan Dacheng ji says that Yang governs movement and Yin governs stillness; the Cuixu says that one should seek stillness within movement and bring things to fruition within stillness. How movement and stillness are applied is a method of cultivation transmitted from mouth to ear; beginners should not make careless judgments based on partial understanding.

The Four Seasons Follow Their Proper Course, and Accord with Qi

The four seasons spoken of here are the spring, summer, autumn, and winter within the body. In cultivation, one must regulate them skillfully and follow what is appropriate to each stage, so that warmth, coolness, cold, and heat are each in their proper place. A poem by Lü Chunyang says, “Only when water and fire are balanced does the medicine emerge; when Yin and Yang are in disorder, the Elixir cannot form.” The key to cultivation lies in harmonizing Yin and Yang.

Firmness and Softness Are Distinct, and Do Not Intrude upon One Another

Firmness refers to Yang firmness; softness refers to Yin softness. “Firmness and softness are distinct, and do not intrude upon one another” means that when Yang firmness is at work, the mind and intention should focus below and should not mix in the workings above. When Yin softness is at work, one should likewise act with undivided focus and not mix it with the application of Yang firmness.

Firmness is vigorous Yang, while yieldingness is compliant Yin. Once firmness and yieldingness operate separately, they cannot be mixed with each other. When vigorous Yang governs, the mind focuses below and must not cross into the upper region; when compliant Yin governs, the mind focuses above and must not cross into the lower region. Zhang Ziyang says in “Song of the Stone Bridge”: “Water generates Fire, Fire generates Water; Water and Fire must take their places in the front and rear ranks.” This is the principle he means.

Each of the Five Phases should remain in its proper place. Do not let any become excessive or deficient.

Wang Liangqi says in his “Verses on the Tiantong Scripture”: “Metal, Wood, Water, Fire—the five kinds—remain fixed in one Dantian.” If these five forces are not kept in place, how could cultivation possibly succeed? When they disperse, they spread throughout the body and become Qi; when they gather, they congeal into a treasure in the Dantian. Now, if they are settled and kept in the Dantian without becoming excessive or deficient, they will blend with one another, transform into a single Qi, and congeal into Golden Liquid. “Fullness” means excess; “contraction” means deficiency. The “Cui Xu Treatise” says: “Numinous Mercury connects with the Real and undergoes many transformations; it should only be kept and guarded, never in excess.” Excess harms the myriad things, while deficiency cannot nourish them. One should guard it with the mind continuously, faintly and almost imperceptibly. After it has been guarded for a long time, when the moment is ripe, Qi will transform. Just as a jar, once filled, must overflow, so the spirits will naturally appear.

The sun and moon move, circling back and forth, extending and contracting in transformation.

“Yi” refers to the sun and moon. They move along the ecliptic, coming and going through day and night, circulating without rest. During the first half of the month, Yang extends and Yin contracts; the Hun gradually grows while the Po gradually diminishes. During the second half, Yin extends and Yang contracts; the Hun gradually diminishes while the Po gradually grows. This cycle repeats without end. When the Qi cultivated has accumulated to fullness, it will naturally manifest, and the spirits will follow.

Here, the Yi refers to the sun and moon. They travel along the ecliptic—the apparent path of the sun’s annual motion—alternating between day and night in an unceasing cycle. During the first half of the month, Yang Qi expands and Yin Qi contracts: the Hun gradually grows while the Po gradually diminishes. During the second half, Yin Qi expands and Yang Qi contracts: the Hun gradually diminishes while the Po gradually grows. This cycle continues without end.

The head corresponds to Qian and the abdomen to Kun, just as Heaven and Earth do. The rising and falling of Yin and Yang Qi within the body likewise resembles the movement of Heaven and Earth. The Neizhi Tongxuan Mijue says that the sun and moon continually travel along the ecliptic and equator, and that practitioners emulate their movement to refine the Reverted Elixir, in a method that accords with the movement of Heaven and Earth. The key lies in the Ren and Du vessels: they are where the body’s Yin and Yang Qi converge, and the essential channels through which the true vitality of the Five Qi circulates.

The Ren vessel begins below the Zhongji point and rises along the abdomen, passing through Guanyuan before reaching the throat. It is the sea of the Yin vessels. The Du vessel begins at the Xiaji point and ascends along the spine to Fengfu, enters the brain, then passes over the crown and forehead to the bridge of the nose. It is the sea of the Yang vessels. The name Ren refers to its capacity to nurture and sustain; the name Du refers to its role in governing the channels. The deer is said to enjoy a long life: according to legend, at five hundred years it becomes a white deer, and at a thousand years a blue deer. This is attributed to the unobstructed flow of the Du vessel. Turtles, cranes, and toads are all said to live a thousand years because their Ren vessel flows freely. The Zhuangzi, in “Nourishing the Lord of Life,” says that following the Du vessel can preserve the body and allow one to complete one’s allotted years. If a person can keep the Ren and Du vessels flowing freely, the hundred vessels will also open in turn. Qi and blood will circulate throughout the body without obstruction; the secret of long life and enduring vision lies here.

The Neizhi Tongxuan Mijue says that cultivation has a crucial method for making “Dharma Water” rise and circulate day and night. If the body is congested, illness follows; when circulation is unobstructed, aging can be delayed. Langranzi also says that rising against the current all the way to the Niwan—the inner cultivation site within the crown of the head—and keeping the joints open can delay aging. He further says that when Qi is regularly made to reach the joints and pass freely through them, Jing and Qi naturally become abundant and the Grain Spirit—the inner stillness and clarity—can endure. These are no empty words.

Chen Xiyi held that this cultivation can transform the body’s original rank, foul Qi and set the Qi channels in motion. Han Xiaoyao, meanwhile, said that turning the Qi mechanism for a month is enough to grasp its mystery. In cultivation, it may seem that one is deliberately doing something, yet nothing is contrived; it may seem that one is settled in stillness, yet stillness is not forced. This method has been passed down from generation to generation since it was secretly transmitted by the High Primordial Lord. There is no other path besides this one.

The old books describe this way of cultivation in many different terms. Some call it the “Central Ring,” others the “Circuit of Heaven”; both refer to the proper path along which Yin and Yang rise, fall, and circulate throughout the body. The Dao De Jing says that the Valley Spirit never dies and is called the Mysterious Female. The gate of the Mysterious Female is the root of Heaven and Earth; it exists continuously, and its use requires no striving. The Yinfu Jing says that putting it to use repeatedly, day and night, can double its effect. The Huangting Jing says that these movements all take place within body and mind; nourishing them day and night can bring long life. The Duren Jing says that the Qi mechanism revolves like the stars of the Dipper, passes through the Winnowing Basket constellation, and then proceeds in sequence through the Five Constant Principles. The Tiantong Jing says that the Three Palaces—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian—rise and descend, coming and going without end. The Shangqing Yuzhen Taixi Jue says that Qi descends from the Niwan to the Gate of Life, and that the two corresponding visions can nourish those who have grown old.

Liu Xugu’s Commentary on the Yi says that Shen rests in the upper Mysterious Orifice while Qi gathers at the lower Female Gate, moving back and forth, rising and descending without pause. Bai Ziqing’s Teachings from the Eastern Tower says that Qi moves from the upper Celestial Valley to the lower Yin Endpoint, bringing the two visions above and below into harmony. The Lord Cui’s Rujing Jing says that Qi returns to the root orifice, goes back to the Gate of Life, and then reaches the Niwan through the Caudal Gate. Xu Jingyang’s Song of the Three Medicines says that when Qi circulates within the Three Fields, white hair can turn black. Wu Zongxuan’s Song of Learning Immortality says that Kan and Li—symbols of Yin and Yang, and Water and Fire—repeatedly reverse their course, causing Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, to revolve with them.

Later authors used still more images to describe the same principle. Some spoke of a single horse following Heaven’s transformations and six dragons carrying the sun around in its cycle. Others spoke of stillness in which one steers the axis of Heaven, with day and night turning like a wheel; of silently setting Qian and Kun in motion so that the Qi of Heaven and Earth come together; or of the Qi mechanism flowing east and west, rising and falling in ways that cannot be predicted. Other names include the inner movement of primordial harmony, circulating Qi through the twelve double-hours, making the rounds of the twelve positions, rising and descending along the hub and axle, transporting Qi day and night, revolving the sun and moon, and turning the Dharma Wheel. Some also call it “doing somersaults” or “turning the Heart Wheel.” All these names refer to the same way of cultivation: following nature and allowing the Qi mechanism within the body to circulate.

This method does not involve deliberately directing Qi, visualizing images, performing a guiding exercise such as flying the Golden Essence behind the elbows, or using the mind to lead Qi along the spine. It means harmonizing the breath, preserving what is natural, and letting true Qi circulate. Unfortunately, people who study the Dao often prefer what is difficult to what is easy. They like to seek what is far away and are unwilling to begin close at hand. Even when a person of the Dao wants to explain it clearly, who is willing to believe them? The Neizhi Tongxuan Mijue says that people do not want to hear the correct teaching, yet take pleasure in discussing deviant paths. Unless one truly understands the transformations of Yin and Yang and sees them clearly, it is hard to believe these words.

“Between the dark moon and the new moon” refers to the moment when the last day of the lunar month gives way to the first day of the next, that is, before midnight on the thirtieth day. Alchemical practice compresses the span of a month into a single day, so the transition from the Hour of the Pig to the Hour of the Rat each day also corresponds to “between the dark moon and the new moon.” Unless one has thoroughly grasped the principles of Yin-Yang transformation, it is difficult to believe this account.

The opening of Heaven and Earth, the conjunction of the Sun and Moon, and the sprouting of plants are all held to occur at this moment of transition; the Yin and Yang Qi within the human body also come together then. When immortals refine the elixir at this time, inner changes correspond to the outer sequence of time, fitting together like matching tallies, without the slightest discrepancy. This moment lies at the very heart of transformation: in terms of the four virtues of the Qian trigram, it is when “steadfastness” gives way to “origination”; in terms of the twelve waxing and waning hexagrams, it is when the Kun hexagram is nearing its end and the Fu hexagram is just beginning to arise. This is regarded as an exceedingly subtle pivot in the transformations of Heaven, Earth, humanity, and Yin-Yang.

When primordial chaos first opens and the myriad things have yet to differentiate, the two principles of Yin and Yang follow one another.

“Primordial Chaos” refers to the time before Heaven and Earth had separated, when primordial Qi had not yet differentiated. “The female and male follow one another” means that the two forces of Yin and Yang were mingled together and had not yet divided. Before Yin and Yang separate, spirit becomes still and settled, and primordial Qi gathers into one. Inwardly, one no longer senses the existence of one’s own body; outwardly, one no longer senses the universe. One becomes one with the Dao, and all thoughts dissolve. This state is deep and chaotic, beyond naming, so it is only provisionally called “the Great One containing true Qi,” also known as “the primordial Qi of the precelestial state.”

The Cui Xu Pian says: “To refine the Great Medicine, one must gather Shen, Qi, and Jing in one place, bringing them together and condensing them to form the foundation of the Elixir. This is, in fact, precelestial Qi. Once refined, it is like yellow sprouts emerging and jade blossoms appearing.” Immortal cultivation has no other secret: its key lies in taking up the primordial Qi of the precelestial state and making it the foundation of the Golden Elixir. With diligent cultivation, one may ultimately hope to reach the level of Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin. The Fu Ming Pian says: “Gather the Qi from before Heaven and Earth were distinguished, and seize the Jing from the first union of the Dragon and Tiger; swiftly send them into the Yellow Chamber and refine them into the supreme treasure.” It also says: “In gathering them, one must be cautious and discreet, discerning the genuine from the false with a sincere heart. The hardest thing is to find the pathways along which the Qi mechanism moves; the slightest deviation can easily cost one the force of life.”

This passage especially warns practitioners not to cling to outward actions while failing to understand the precelestial state spoken of by the Great Dao, nor to become bound by methods of “gathering” until they lose sight of the true thread that runs through them. The Chong Zheng Pian says: “In a ten-thousand-fathom cold abyss, a sleeping black dragon conceals a bright pearl beneath its jaw. Only by proceeding carefully and discreetly, without disturbing it, can one gather it; one must also perform the spiritual work in accordance with the proper times.” Here, “gathering” means gathering without seeming to gather, and “taking” means taking without seeming to take. This occurs in stillness and settledness; it cannot be brought about through bodily movements.

Long ago, the Yellow Emperor lost the Mysterious Pearl. He sent Zhi, Li Zhu, and Chi Gou in turn to search for it, but none could find it. Later, he sent Xiang Wang, who succeeded in finding it. Xiang Wang signifies a state in which one has forgotten the body and no longer clings to appearances. Only by forgetting the body and letting go of appearances can one obtain the primordial Qi of the precelestial state.

The Xiantian Yin from the Jijiang Ji says: “A single piece of the precelestial state is called the Great Void; only when there is no action and nothing is done does its true essence appear.” It also says: “If you ask what the precelestial state is, there is not a single word for it; only in the postcelestial state is effort required.” This is correct. The precelestial state is before Taiji has divided and before Yin and Yang have differentiated, before Heaven and Earth came into being. In terms of Neidan cultivation, it is the time when all is still and unmoving, when one returns to the root and comes back to tranquility. The Hunyuan Baozhang says: “In utter stillness, all things can respond and communicate, and one can thereby glimpse the workings of Yin-Yang transformation.” Indeed, when the mind is utterly still, it can communicate with Heaven and grasp the workings of creation and transformation. The Cui Xu Pian says: “Do not seek the workings of creation in the kidneys; seek the precelestial state in the heart.” The meaning is perfectly clear.

The Silü Yin from the Jijiang Ji says: “Before thoughts arise, even ghosts and spirits cannot know them.” The Huan Jin Pian says: “Where even ghosts and spirits cannot perceive, the Dragon and Tiger naturally meet.” To cultivate the great precelestial Dao, one must reach the state of “attaining utmost emptiness and holding firmly to stillness”: letting the mind become utterly empty and still, and steadfastly maintaining that tranquility without allowing even the slightest thought to intrude.

When one is utterly still and all thoughts have vanished, it is as if rivers and seas lie quiet and soundless, mountains are veiled in mist, the light and shadows of the sun and moon have come to a halt, and even the turning of the Northern Dipper has stopped. The eight channels return to their source, and breathing seems to cease entirely. At this moment one enters a profound, subtle state, no longer knowing that Heaven covers the Earth, that other people exist in the world, or even that one has a body. After a while, the Qi in the Three Palaces becomes abundant, and the Qi mechanism stirs, giving off a faint sound, as if a sword were cleaving Primordial Chaos and two hands were tearing open the vast expanse. This is “something arising from nothing.” The poem by Ning Xuanzi says: “It is not amid the toil of the dusty world, nor in the depths of remote mountains; one need only find the profound and subtle source.” This is indeed so.

Today, some people do not understand the root of the Great Dao. Some take true lead to be the precelestial state; some take “Heaven generates Water first” to be the precelestial state; others take a point of light between the kidneys, the area around the navel, the nose as the ancestral source, the gaze, or the directing of Qi to be the precelestial state. These are all partial views that pursue branches and leaves, not the precelestial state spoken of by the Great Dao.

The Book of Changes says: “If one acts before the appointed time, Heaven will not oppose; if one acts after the appointed time, one must follow the time.” “If one acts before the appointed time, Heaven will not oppose” means following the natural principles of Heaven completely, so that even Heaven cannot act against them. “If one acts after the appointed time, one must follow the time” means that when the time has arrived, one should accept it and move with its course. Who but someone of the utmost understanding in the world could comprehend and accomplish this?

The nourishing fluid and Qi moisten the whole body, allowing the vital energy of transformation and growth to flow without end.

The Treatise on Returning the Elixir says: “Dark clouds hang heavy for thousands of miles as the spring Qi joins and mingles; the clear skies of the nine heavens shine bright, and drops of dew gather.” This depicts the true scene when Yin and Yang respond to and join one another. At this time, spirit reaches in all directions, and the breath flows everywhere, rising to Heaven and spreading across the Earth. In a hazy, indistinct state, it is like mist veiling the mountains and a fine fog surrounding the water. It is also like winter snow gradually freezing and accumulating, or like a watery slurry settling little by little until it becomes clear. This is the state in which the energies of Heaven and Earth within the body blend, and Yin and Yang within the body unite.

When the moment arrives, the Qi mechanism stirs and things respond and connect. Suddenly, it is as if a wheel of fire churns the veins of the Earth; in a flash, it is like a divine spring surging to a mountain peak. Heaven and Earth are moistened, and all things flourish in abundance. “The Song of the Indistinct,” from the Collection of Striking the Earth, says: “Within the indistinct, Yin and Yang begin to change; the energies of Heaven and Earth mingle, then suddenly whirl. How could that wondrous scene within be explained through words or technique?” Unless one has practiced personally and truly reached this state, how could one believe that such a scene exists?

The wondrous, numinous transformations between Heaven and Earth cannot be measured by ordinary reasoning.

When Yin and Yang unite, spirits and demons disappear from view; this is the wondrous, numinous moment of Heaven and Earth. When the Dragon and Tiger unite, even ghosts and spirits cannot perceive it; this is the wondrous, numinous moment within oneself. Here, “Dragon and Tiger” are terms in Neidan (internal alchemy) that symbolize the two forces of Yin and Yang. When the wondrous numinous responsiveness within oneself joins with that of Heaven and Earth, the inner true mechanism responds to the outer world. In a state of stillness, the Xun Gate—symbolizing the portal through which Qi enters and exits—suddenly opens wide, and both sides rise together, ultimately merging into one. The Treatise on Returning to the Origin says: “Right there, in the indistinct and formless, lies the root of long life and immortality.” Indeed, only by forgetting the body and entering the indistinct, imageless state can one encounter it. If it could be attained through visualization or inward contemplation, or through calculation, inference, measurement, and speculation, it could not be called wondrous and numinous.

Follow the timing of Heaven, bring body and mind to rest, conceal your traces, and withdraw into yourself.

At the monthly transition between the dark moon and the new moon, the sun and moon seem to join in the north, their light drawn in and hidden from view. Alchemical cultivation must follow the seasons, arranging the firing process according to the hours of a single day. At midnight, when Kun transforms into Fu, cross your feet and sit upright and still, as unmoving as a mountain stone. Close your mouth, rest your tongue, and even out your breathing; lie dormant like a snake in winter. This is a way to nourish the body through stillness and conceal the form.

At this time, gather the spirit inward and quietly turn your gaze within. Let each inhalation and exhalation grow slow and long, gradually returning to the “Mingdi,” the root of life. After a long while, all seems deep and unfathomable, as though you stood at the edge of an abyss. This is the moment when spirit and Qi return to their root, body and mind return to their source, and “Golden Liquid”—the condensed state of essence and Qi in internal alchemy—takes shape.

The Cui Xu Pian says, “When Qi enters the Dantian to nourish the white crow, only then can one say the yellow sprout has formed.” If the mind is restless and the spirit unsettled, spirit and Qi will scatter outward. How could the Returning Elixir possibly form?

The firing process begins in the northeast, in the region of the Ji and Dou lodges, and then turns to the right. The sun and moon move like a turning wheel; Yin and Yang begin to stir and lie hidden in a deep pool, gradually showing signs as their refined light shines outward. Near the Bi lodge, the Zhen trigram appears, marking the first stirrings of Yang. This is the starting point of the firing process, corresponding to “the first nine: the hidden dragon.”

Yang is established through “three,” while Yin is linked through “eight.” Thus, on the third day, Zhen stirs; on the eighth, it transforms into Dui. On the ninth day comes “the second nine: the dragon appearing in the field.” Yin and Yang are in balance, light becomes visible, and the qualities of three and five are complete; the form of the Qian trigram is thereby formed.

At “the third nine: all day long, alert and vigilant,” the rise and decline of the divine tally begin to change. It gradually transforms, eventually returning to its beginning. The Xun trigram takes up the succession, and the practitioner must hold firm and continue to nourish it gently. At “the fourth nine: perhaps leaping,” one must be cautious in advancing or retreating, for the path is perilous. The Gen trigram governs stopping and proceeding; the moment must not be missed. Around the twenty-third day, carefully observe the “string period,” the firing interval around the crescent moon.

At “the fifth nine: the flying dragon,” the dragon flies to its place in heaven and its power grows. This is followed by the fifth six: Kun receives and completes the process, joining the firing stages before and after it. It contains and gently nourishes its many offspring, generation after generation, as a mother raises her children. At “the topmost nine: the overreaching dragon,” Yang has reached its height and battles Yin in the wilderness.

The firing process begins in the northeast, around the Ji and Dou lodges, where the fire is set in motion. Near the Bi lodge, the Zhen trigram appears, also signifying the fire’s activation. The Cui Xu Pian says, “There is a path where mother and child divide from the womb; its mystery lies in the Wei, Ji, Niu, Dou, and Nu lodges.” This refers to the process described here. The chapter concludes with “battling virtue in the wilderness.”

Beginning in the region of the Dipper and Ox mansions in the northeast, this marks the starting direction of the firing process—the practice of gauging the advance and retreat of Yin and Yang, as well as the proper timing and measure, during alchemical refinement. As the Moon passes above the Net mansion, it appears like the Zhen trigram, also symbolizing the beginning of the firing process. The Cui Xu Pian says, “There is a wondrous path where mother and child divide at birth; its subtlety lies in the Tail, Dipper, Ox, Dipper, and Maiden mansions.” This is what it means.

This chapter uses the six precelestial trigrams and the six lines of the Qian trigram to compare the Moon’s waxing and waning, while also weaving in the positions of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, which the Moon passes through on its course. These are all metaphors. If scholars read the text without grasping its key, few will avoid becoming bewildered.

Changes in the firing process of alchemical refinement resemble the Moon’s waxing and waning. On the third day, the Moon first shows a faint light and begins its course near the Dipper and Ox mansions in the northeast. By evening, a crescent appears above the Net mansion in the southwest, shaped like the Zhen trigram. In terms of the Qian trigram, this corresponds to the first nine, symbolizing the initial stirring of one’s own Yang fire. On the eighth day, at the first quarter, half the Moon is illuminated and its shape resembles the Dui trigram. This corresponds to the second nine of Qian, symbolizing the Yang fire reaching the halfway point in cultivation. On the fifteenth day, the Moon stands opposite the Sun, its light full and complete. Its shape resembles the Qian trigram and corresponds to the third nine, symbolizing the fulfillment of one’s own Yang fire.

After the full Moon on the sixteenth day, the Moon begins to wane. Its shape resembles the Xun trigram and corresponds to the fourth nine of Qian, symbolizing the beginning of the Yin Talisman—the movement of Yin energy that complements the Yang fire during alchemical refinement. On the twenty-third day, at the last quarter, half the Moon’s light has faded. Its shape resembles the Gen trigram and corresponds to the fifth nine, symbolizing the Yin Talisman reaching its halfway point. On the thirtieth day, the Moon’s light has vanished. Its shape resembles the Kun trigram and corresponds to the top nine of Qian, symbolizing the completion of the Yin Talisman’s cycle.

Wei Boyang used the six trigrams to represent the firing process and paired them with the six lines of the Qian trigram because the Elixir is regarded as a treasure of pure Yang, and Qian also represents pure Yang. Why, among the six trigrams, is Qian matched with the third nine and Kun with the top nine? Cultivation must be practiced with the vigilance of defending a city during the Qian Yang phase, and with the forceful strength of field battle during the Kun Yin phase. In both, one must guard against danger and act with caution.

“Using Nine” is the rule governing the movement of Yang numbers. When Yang numbers reach their limit, they begin again. By examining the principles and circumstances of things, we bring them into accord with their nature, and Yin and Yang then transform and work together. They follow the movement of the Xuanji—the ancient instrument for observing celestial phenomena, also understood as the pivot of the heavenly bodies—rising and descending, circulating in an endless cycle. The changes among the six lines of a hexagram are difficult to discern, so their positions are not fixed. This principle of change is fundamental to the Yijing (Classic of Changes).

Nine represents a Yang number. The Yijing says, “Take three for Heaven and two for Earth, and rely on these numbers,” meaning that the numbers of Heaven, three, and Earth, two, are used to derive numerical principles. The numbers of Heaven referred to here are one, three, and five, taken from the generating numbers of the Five Phases: one, three, and five belong to Heaven, and together express the principle of “three Heaven numbers mutually supporting one another.” Yin and Yang Qi rise and descend like the Xuanji, circulating among the six lines in ways that are difficult to discern. The line positions are therefore not fixed; this principle of change is fundamental to the Yijing.

“Nine” is a yang number. The Zhouyi says, “Three are assigned to Heaven and two to Earth, and the numbers are derived from them.” This means taking the numbers of Heaven and Earth as a model: the Heavenly numbers one, three, and five add up to nine; the Earthly numbers two and four add up to six. Thus the Kun hexagram uses six, and the Qian hexagram uses nine. In alchemical methods, “using nine” means mastering the firing times within a single quarter of an hour and undergoing nine transformations, taking the Qian hexagram as its model. “Using nine in an unbroken flow” means proceeding in accordance with the Dao’s pattern: when the yang number reaches its limit, it begins anew; each line changes in turn, without the slightest error. The Fuming Pian says, “No number goes astray; do not let the firing times be delayed.” This is the principle it describes.

“Metal’s disposition” refers to the disposition of Metal, while “Wood’s nature” refers to the nature of Wood. They are originally one thing, yet lie on opposite sides, as if separated east from west. By using the “Dipper’s handle”—the handle of the Big Dipper, a metaphor for the pivot that directs the firing times—to coordinate them, the nature of Wood can draw near to Metal’s disposition, and Metal’s disposition can become attached to the nature of Wood, so that they are no longer separated. Hence the text says to bring disposition and nature together and set them in mutual circulation, following the rises and falls of the Xuanji, an astronomical instrument symbolizing the pivot of celestial motion. Their circulation and transformation are like the six lines, difficult to perceive directly. Having no fixed position is the foundation of the Yi. They move within the body, operating unseen in Heaven and unseen in Earth, like the transformations of the six lines. The six lines referred to here are those of the Qian hexagram mentioned earlier. Extending their principle by analogy gives rise to six hexagrams and even sixty hexagrams, all expressing the same teaching.

The Huajin Pian says, “The nine transformations reach the utmost mystery; the furnace opens, and flames burst forth and fly.” This describes the practice of the nine transformations: it begins at the hour of Yin and ends at the hour of Xu, the secret of mastering the firing times within a single quarter of an hour. It contains the subtle methods of drawing out and adding, advancing and retreating, as well as the mysteries of bathing and union, and is therefore called “the utmost mystery.” Without understanding these, how could one refine the elixir, even after obtaining the true medicine? Wei Boyang did not dare to reveal these mysteries lightly, so he hinted at them through the phrase “Qian’s primordial power uses nine.”

From this we can see that the immortals’ “returning elixir” is the Yi within the body, and the ninefold firing times are the Qian within the body. The Qian within the body has no drawn lines to observe, and no form or number to seek. Face it, and its beginning cannot be seen; follow it, and its end cannot be seen. How, then, could it have a fixed form or position that one might perceive directly?

The early morning of the first day of the lunar month corresponds to the Fu hexagram, symbolizing the first emergence of Yang and the beginning of its circulation. In the system of pitch pipes and calendrical divisions, it corresponds to Huangzhong; within a day, it is midnight, the Zi hour; within a month, it is the first half of the period from the first to the third day; and within a year, it is the month when the handle of the Big Dipper points toward Zi. At this time, Yang has only just begun to sprout, like the inner Yang fire at the beginning of cultivation: its force is still very weak. The fire must be tended gently and with restraint. Do not rush it or let it run unchecked; allow its warming Qi to spread evenly among the vessel’s parts, which symbolize the body and mind as the furnace and cauldron in internal alchemy.

The Chongzheng Pian says that Huangzhong corresponds to Zi. As Yang has only just begun to rise and receive Qi, the fire has not yet grown stronger, so it should be applied gently, without excessive refining. One must also guard against the dragon being weak while the tiger’s force becomes too strong. When the first line turns, Yang has only just begun to circulate. It can only be raised lightly and quietly, without force; hence the phrase “enter and leave without hindrance.” Yet it must not be too weak, either. One should also activate the aperture at the crown of the head and give the fire a slight lift, which is why the text says, “Set up the marker with a touch of firmness.”

After a while, the fire gradually grows more intense and drives out true lead. When the Dipper points toward the positions of Ji and Dou, the River Chariot—a metaphor in internal alchemy for circulating Jing and Qi—must not remain still. It must continue its course, reaching all the way to the summit of Kunlun.

The Jindan Dacheng Ji says that the Fu hexagram is like a hidden dragon just beginning to rise. The Qi of Wu and Ji, which in internal alchemy represents the central Earth Qi, must be regulated subtly and harmoniously; it cannot yet be forcefully driven. With the Lin hexagram, Yang gradually grows, and the fire in the furnace strengthens in step. When the Guai hexagram arrives, one must use the wind of Xun to assist the fire, refining the Yellow Sprout and White Snow—symbolic names in internal alchemy for the refined products of Jing and Qi—and then return them to the way of Kun. Only then is the process complete. This passage sums up the essentials of applying the firing times.

Under the Lin hexagram, the fire in the furnace takes effect like branches spreading and roads opening. Brightness gradually appears and increases with the passing days. The Zi position corresponds to Dalu, one of the twelve ancient pitch pipes, and the rising and descending of Yin and Yang begin to fall into balance.

The Lin hexagram, with two yang lines, corresponds to the pitch standard Dalu. In the course of a day, it matches the cock’s crow during the Chou hour; in the course of a month, it corresponds to the period from the middle of the third day to the fifth day; and in the course of a year, it is the month when the Northern Dipper’s handle points toward Chou—that is, the twelfth lunar month. At this time, yang energy gradually grows. This serves as a metaphor for the yang fire within the body slowly unfolding, and for the Yellow Path—the channel through which Qi moves in Neidan cultivation—gradually becoming clear. Thus, light steadily increases and the days grow longer.

Looking upward, one advances to the Tai hexagram, where firmness and yielding flourish together and Yin and Yang join one another: the small withdraws and the great arrives. The flow of Qi gathers at the Yin position, and its movement should accord with the moment.

The Tai hexagram, with three yang lines, corresponds to the pitch standard Taicu. In the course of a day, it matches the dawn during the Yin hour; in the course of a month, it corresponds to the period from the sixth day to the middle of the eighth day; and in the course of a year, it is the month when the Northern Dipper’s handle points toward Yin—that is, the first lunar month. At this time, yang energy rises from the earth. This serves as a metaphor for the gradual ascent of the body’s three yang energies. One should quickly set the River Chariot in motion—a Neidan term for transporting the flow of Qi—and guide the Qi back into the cauldron, the place where essence and Qi are gathered and refined in alchemical practice. Thus, one must set it in motion and catch the right moment. The phrase “set it in motion and follow the moment” means that when the firing process reaches this point, it must not stop.

There is an Yin hour within the day, and also an Yin hour within a single quarter-hour. In a poem, Langranzi writes, “Diligently swallow saliva more than a thousand times; always remember to preserve the spirit and listen at the fifth watch.” This refers to the Yin hour within the day. The Collected Works on the Great Accomplishment of the Golden Elixir says, “When the three yangs meet and the Tai hexagram appears, one may then advance the fire and employ its wondrous power.” This refers to the Yin hour within a single quarter-hour. The Yin hour within the day is, of course, determined by the celestial calendar; there are indeed people in the world who understand this. The Yin hour within a quarter-hour, by contrast, is a secret of the firing process as it moves within the body. Alchemical texts, both ancient and modern, have dared not explain it openly. Truly, among tens of thousands, only one or two know it. How mysterious, how mysterious!

Gradually passing through the Jian hexagram and then reaching the Dazhuang hexagram, the flow of Qi passes through the gate at the Mao position. The elm seeds fall, then return to their source. Punishment and Virtue regulate one another, and from this point day and night begin to grow distinct.

“Dazhuang” is the hexagram of four Yang lines among the sixty-four hexagrams, corresponding to “Jiazhong” among the twelve pitch pipes. Compared to a day, it is sunrise at the mao hour; compared to a month, it falls between the eighth and tenth days; compared to a year, it is the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the mao position, that is, the second lunar month. At this time, Yin Qi assists Yang Qi, and Yang Qi gathers as all things begin to grow. It is like the Yang fire within the body just reaching its midpoint, with the firing process steady and even. Thus Yin and Yang, punishment and virtue, work together, and day and night begin to become equal in length. Yet while most things grow in spring, the elm’s pods fall at this time. Why? Because Yin Qi is also contained within Yang Qi.

In the “Guai” hexagram, Yin Qi recedes while Yang Qi rises and presses forward, like cleansing one’s feathers and shaking off accumulated dust.

“Guai” is the hexagram of five Yang lines, corresponding to “Guxi” among the twelve pitch pipes. Compared to a day, it is the mealtime hour of chen; compared to a month, it falls between the eleventh and the thirteenth day and a half; compared to a year, it is the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the chen position, that is, the third lunar month. Yang Qi is now vigorous and nearing the sky’s edge, like the Yang fire within the body rising upward. Hence it is said that Yang Qi rises and presses forward. The image of cleansing feathers and shaking off accumulated dust draws on the great roc, which beats the water with force and takes flight on the rising current as it prepares to migrate to the Celestial Lake. It conveys that at this time one should rouse oneself and rise upward.

The “Qian” hexagram is vigorous and flourishing, its light spreading in all four directions. Yang Qi reaches its peak at the si hour, after which Yin and Yang come together.

“Qian” is the hexagram of six Yang lines, corresponding to “Zhonglü” among the twelve pitch pipes. Compared to a day, it is the middle of the yu hour of si; compared to a month, it falls between the thirteenth day and a half and the fifteenth; compared to a year, it is the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the si position, that is, the fourth lunar month. Yang Qi is now at its utmost strength, filling heaven and earth, like the Yang fire within the body becoming full and complete, with the light of the Elixir appearing. The divine spring on the mountaintop—said to be a miraculous source—divides into four streams and flows down the mountain, nourishing the surrounding land and reaching everywhere. Hence it is said that light spreads in all four directions. The statement that Yang Qi reaches its end at the si hour and Yin and Yang come together means that once the Yang fire has reached the end of its course, the Yin Talisman—the Yin phase of cultivation corresponding to the Yang fire—begins to take effect.

The “Gou” hexagram marks the first emergence of Yin Qi, like the earliest sign of frost underfoot or a cold spring at the bottom of a well. The wu hour corresponds to “Ruibin” among the twelve pitch pipes. The guest submits to Yin Qi, and Yin Qi becomes the master.

Gou consists of a single Yin line. It corresponds to Ruibin, one of the twelve pitch standards. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the Hour of the Horse, when the sun is directly overhead at noon. In the course of a month, it corresponds to the period from the sixteenth to the middle of the eighteenth day. In the course of a year, it corresponds to the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the Horse direction. At this time Yin energy has just begun to emerge. This serves as a metaphor for the point where the Yin Talisman—the movement of Yin energy in cultivation—first begins to stir within the body.

After the elixir enters the mouth, it must turn back and descend into the Cold Spring, a metaphor for a particular place within the body. It should move there gradually and return to the Dantian, the place where Jing and Qi are stored and nurtured in Daoist Neidan practice. It must not be rushed. Hence the phrase “treading on frost,” which describes Yin energy just beginning to appear, like frost. The text also speaks of the “Cold Spring at the bottom of the well” and says to follow the movement of Yin. When Yin takes the lead, the many Yang forces become guests. “Guest” carries a sense of respect and caution: one must guard against danger and act carefully.

Dun consists of two Yin lines. It corresponds to Linzhong, one of the twelve pitch standards. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the Hour of the Goat, when the sun is leaning westward. In the course of a month, it corresponds to the period from the middle of the eighteenth to the twentieth day. In the course of a year, it corresponds to the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the Goat direction. At this time Yin energy gradually grows. This serves as a metaphor for the Yin Talisman leaving the Horse position, drawing inward and moving downward within the body. It is like a virtuous person withdrawing to a mountain valley to await the right moment. Hence the phrase “cherish De and await the time; dwell in quiet obscurity”: hold fast to De, wait for the right moment, and temporarily remain in a secluded, dim place.

Pi is a state of blockage and stagnation in which sprouts cannot grow. Yin energy extends while Yang energy withdraws, and the force of life is harmed.

Pi consists of three Yin lines. It corresponds to Yize, one of the twelve pitch standards. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the Hour of the Monkey, in the afternoon. In the course of a month, it corresponds to the period from the twenty-first to the middle of the twenty-third day. In the course of a year, it corresponds to the month when the Big Dipper’s handle points toward the Monkey direction. At this time Yang energy gradually declines. This serves as a metaphor for the Yin Talisman continually moving downward within the body, like the season when Yin energy brings austerity and plants turn yellow and wither. Hence Yin energy extends, Yang energy withdraws, and the force of life is harmed.

Observe the balance of Yin and Yang as they change, and attend to the character of mid-autumn: all things gather their subtle, tender vitality, and what has grown old and withered can flourish again. The tender shoots of plants such as shepherd’s purse and wheat also sprout through this vitality.

In explaining the Four Yin Trigrams, it is said that their corresponding pitch pipe is Nanlü. In the course of a day, this is the You hour, when the sun sets; in the course of a month, it is from the twenty-third day and a half to the twenty-fifth day; in the course of a year, it is the month when the handle of the Northern Dipper points toward You. At this time, Yin Qi assists Yang Qi in its movement, and all things contract and mature. As a metaphor for cultivation, this means that the Yin Fu Qi within the body is more than halfway through its course and descends into the Dantian, like a tree drawing in its blossoms and forming fruit. Hence one is told to preserve and nurture the faint, newly arising Jing and Qi.

Yet most things wither and grow old in autumn, while shepherd’s purse and wheat sprout at this time. Why? Because Yang remains within Yin.

The Bo hexagram symbolizes the decline of the limbs and the dissolution of the bodily form into Qi. All things are like trees that draw in their blossoms and form fruit, so one is told to preserve and nurture the faint, newly arising Jing and Qi. Yet most things wither and grow old in autumn, while shepherd’s purse and wheat sprout then. The reason is that Yang is present within Yin.

The Bo hexagram has five Yin lines, and its corresponding pitch pipe is Wushe. In the course of a day, this is the Xu hour, at dusk; in the course of a month, it is from the twenty-sixth to the twenty-eighth day and a half; in the course of a year, it is the month when the handle of the Northern Dipper points toward Xu. At this time, Yang Qi weakens and recedes, and fruit on the branches rots and falls to the ground. As a metaphor for cultivation, this means that the Yin Fu within the body is about to be exhausted, and the work of Shen can no longer be brought into effect. Hence the words: “When the transformation into Qi is exhausted, the utmost Shen is lost.”

Fire first arises at the beginning of the Yin hour, reaches its height at the Wu hour, and returns to its tomb at the Xu hour. The Xu hour is when all things withdraw into storage. In reckoning the fire phases by the quarter hour, the process is complete at this point. The line in the “Treatise on Returning to the Mandate” that says, “East and west, movement and stillness, unite dawn and dusk,” speaks of the same principle. The fire phases within a single day also end here. Lü Chunyang’s poem says that the sun “follows its course, rising and sinking day after day”; this too refers to sunrise and sunset, and their cycle of recurrence. Those shallow, heterodox methods understand only one side and not the other. How could they ever fully grasp the principle?

When the Dao’s course reaches its end, it returns to the Kun hexagram, which symbolizes the earth and the yielding power of Yin. The primal power of Kun always follows the earth’s patterns, receiving the Dao of Heaven and extending its work of rest and renewal. The mysterious and distant principle may seem cut off from view, yet its parts are linked; following its proper rhythms, it brings forth the myriad things and is the source of Yin and Yang. Vast and empty, indistinct and hard to fathom, it is impossible for people to know where it begins. Those who at first lose the right path later become its masters.

Kun is a hexagram composed of six broken lines, corresponding to Yingzhong among the twelve pitch pipes. In the course of a day, it corresponds to the hour of the Dog, when people settle in for the night—that is, the Hai hour. In the course of a month, it is the point when the month is drawing to a close. In the course of a year, it is the month when the handle of the Northern Dipper points toward the Hai position. At this time, Yin Qi is dominant, and all things return to their roots and renew their lives. As a metaphor for the human body, it describes the Yin Fu’s movement within the body reaching its end: body and mind become still, returning to their source and restoring clarity and quietude. Thus, when the Dao’s movement reaches its end, it returns to the primordial source of Kun.

Kun follows the patterns of the Earth’s movement, receiving Heaven’s intent and carrying it out through its unfolding. This is the same idea expressed in the previous passage: “Metal originally arises from the sun; at dawn on the first day of the lunar month, it receives the sun’s tally.” Heaven and Earth, the sun and the moon, are one. The moon receives sunlight without diminishing the sun; moonlight is, in truth, sunlight. The Qi of Heaven descends to Earth, and the growth of all things within Earth depends on the Qi of Heaven. The human body takes Heaven as its model and Earth as its image. The interaction of Yin and Yang within the body is no different from that between Heaven and Earth.

The Treatise on Returning to the Origin (Huanyuan pian) says, “When Shen returns within Qi, the Way of Neidan naturally comes to completion.” If a practitioner can turn inward and observe within, settling the spirit and bringing it into the Qi cavity—the place where Shen is focused and Qi gathered in Neidan practice—then Shen can remain at rest while Qi gradually arises and condenses into liquid. When the celestial mechanism within the body stirs, the image of a red lotus holding a bud and jade-green dew gathering into drops appears. Jing and Qi fall like dewdrops into the Flower Pool, a Daoist Neidan term for the place in the mouth or body that receives fluids. Drop by drop, they collect in the Dantian, forming the essential pivot for the Elixir to congeal.

“Deep, distant, and subtle, with barriers that are joined together” refers to the interval between the Hai and Zi hours, when Yin and Yang meet. At this time, one settles Shen in the Qi cavity; Shen rests, Qi arises, and Qi and fluid condense. When the celestial mechanism stirs, the red lotus holds a bud, and green dew falls into the Flower Pool before finally collecting in the Dantian. When Yin reaches its extreme and Yang has not yet begun to emerge, body and mind are still and clear, as though Heaven and Earth had not yet divided. At this time, adepts refine the Elixir by drawing in the senses and lowering the eyelids, letting the light of Shen shine inward upon the Kan Palace, the place symbolizing the body’s Kidney Water and Yin essence. At first, all is dark and still, like moonlight reflected in a cold pool. Then Shen and Qi unite and silently permeate one another, like a magnet drawing iron.

“Responding to the measure, nurturing the seed, the source of Yin and Yang” describes the circumstances of Elixir refinement, which are like the month of Hai, when pure Kun is in command. All things return to their roots, Heaven and Earth close and store their energies, and winter begins. Although winter governs storage, the foundations for the year’s growth and development are actually being nurtured at this time; they remain concealed and leave no trace, so people cannot see them. The ancients called this month of pure Yin the “Yang month” because, by the time of Minor Snow, Yang Qi has already begun to sprout beneath the six Yin lines. As it accumulates through the winter solstice, Yang Qi fills one line, and the Kun hexagram transforms into Fu. Neidan practice follows the same principle: when the night’s Yang Qi has not yet been exhausted, one need only settle Shen, gather Qi, and sit upright for a short while. Shen and Qi will then return to their roots, and from within nonbeing, something will arise. Gradually it gathers and accumulates into a single point of golden Jing.

The Cui Xu Treatise (Cuixu pian) says, “Golden Jing is the medicine of the Kun Palace; Kun lies in the southwest, the source of the stream. The moon’s light shines over the western river all day.” This speaks of the medicine’s source. Yang Qi does not begin to arise only when the Fu hexagram appears; it has already begun to sprout within the pure Yin of Kun. Though Kun is the utmost Yin, it can give rise to Yang within Yin, and so it is the source from which the Elixir is produced.

“Vast and open, indistinct and elusive, its beginning unknown” describes the return of body and mind to their original source: Shen enters a realm of boundless clarity and emptiness, becoming one with the Great Void. After remaining still and settled for a long time, when the heart-flower appears and Qi fills the Three Palaces, one senses only a hazy, elusive change and cannot say where it came from. The scripture says, “In a haze and mist, there is something within; in the depths of darkness, there is Jing.” These words point to the key to cultivation.

The Book of the Jade Fungus (Yuzhi shu) says that many people across the ages have recited these lines, but few have truly understood their meaning. Without practicing and experiencing them firsthand, there is no way to understand them. The realm of deep darkness is like leaning over the edge of a profound abyss; the realm of hazy elusiveness is like waking from a daydream. These are real experiences encountered by practitioners, not metaphors. Deep darkness is the time of stillness and immobility, when one’s own Heaven and Earth seem not yet to have divided. Hazy elusiveness is the time when a response begins to stir, as though one’s own Heaven and Earth were about to divide. The subtle wonder of Elixir refinement lies here; these words must not be treated as empty abstractions.

The Instructions for the Great Elixir of the Red Dragon (Chilong dadan jue) says, “No one understands the hazy and elusive; only I know the indistinct.” Indeed, few people can understand this. In practice, one must first sink into deep darkness in a dim, silent state. After a short while, Yin reaches its limit and Yang is born; stillness reaches its height and the mechanism stirs. It is as though the face suddenly opens wide and the void bursts apart: a scene appears within the silence, and the power to direct transformation seems to return to oneself.

In this chapter, Master Wei clearly identifies the source from which the Elixir arises and gives a detailed account of the mysteries of presence and absence, being and nonbeing, host and guest, and before and after. The Treatise on Returning the Gold (Huajin pian) says, “In the distant and indistinct, one can only scoop up the moon in the water; when all is clear, one can only pluck flowers from a mirror.” Those who do not deeply understand the Dao cannot recognize the principle expressed here.

“There is no road that remains level and never slopes downward.” This means that change and return are natural patterns. All things decline after reaching their height, then rise again after decline. They depend on one another and cycle without end, as shown by the sequence of the twelve waxing and waning hexagrams in the Book of Changes: it ends with Kun and begins again with Fu, the beginning joined to the end like links in a chain.

Cultivating the Golden Elixir follows the same pattern. When stillness reaches its extreme, movement begins; when movement reaches its extreme, it returns to stillness. Movement and stillness are each the root of the other. The sun and moon in their courses, and the alternation of cold and heat, all follow this pattern. The way of the Golden Elixir may be called the “Changes” within the body: change brings things through to fulfillment. Flourishing and decline alternate, and growth and waning follow one another. Nothing reaches an end without changing, and nothing changes without being brought through to fulfillment.

Wei Boyang, author of the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three), uses the twelve sovereign hexagrams to explain the firing times. He also draws on the names of musical pitches and the Earthly Branches to develop his account; these are all metaphors. The terms “converging spokes,” “arranged in ranks,” and “washing and purifying,” for example, allude respectively to the pitch names Taicu, Jiazhong, and Guxian. The words “stir,” “obscure,” “extend,” and “store up” allude to the seasonal stages Chen, Wei, Shen, and You. In general, these names are borrowed to explain the stages of cultivation. There is no need to cling to their literal wording or elaborate too much on their imagery.

“An emperor rides forth, and endures for a thousand autumns” means that the noble person cultivates diligently throughout the day and acts in accord with the times, thereby preserving the Dao for a long time.

If you wish to nurture nature and life, extend your lifespan, and alter the span originally allotted to you, consider the matter carefully: attend first to the root, then to the branches. The human body comes from an endowment received before birth. Original Jing—the innate vital essence—flows through the body, taking Original Qi as its support, and thus the first life is formed.

Whether foolish or intelligent, all people possess the same nature and life. A noble person knows that nature must not be harmed, so preserves and nurtures it; knowing that life must not be depleted, they protect it and help it endure. Even without cultivation, someone who lives in calm and peace can often reach a good end. How much more, then, should one pursue long life when there are methods of cultivation that draw upon the workings of Yin-Yang in Heaven and Earth, refine the hun and po souls until they unite, and cultivate both nature and life?

To seek long life, one must first inquire into how this body took shape before one’s birth. Only after understanding this can one speak of nurturing nature and prolonging life. Thus, when considering the end of things, one should turn back and examine their beginnings. The human body is formed through the union of the Qi of father and mother. The body is the basis that receives Qi, while Qi is the source from which the body is formed. Without a body, Qi has nowhere to take root; without Qi, the body cannot take shape. The body a person receives is therefore originally born when primordial essence spreads and takes root through Qi.

When immortals cultivate Neidan (internal alchemy, in which essence, Qi, and spirit are gathered and transformed within the body), Yin and Yang respond to one another within, and spirit and Qi unite, giving rise to something from nothing. This follows the same principle as conception and gestation. The ten months of warming and nurturing in the alchemical method require the true breath to flow without interruption, steady by day and night. This too resembles the state of an unborn child. The Song of the Great Dao of the Numinous Source says: “Look at the infant in the womb: how could it understand deliberate thought? With essence and Qi focused, the body softens, the spirit’s intent rests for a long time, and the true breath naturally flows in and out with ease.” In the womb, the infant breathes along with its mother; its mouth and nose are closed, and it is connected to her through the navel. That is why the navel is called the root of life and the stem of Qi.

Lü Chunyang (Lü Dongbin) also says in his Song of the Mysterious Female: “Trace the beginning of the body that received Qi at birth; do not be surprised that the secrets of Heaven have already been fully revealed.” If a person can trace back to the first moment of their birth, return to the root and source, and turn the light inward, gathering the medicine at the abdominal root in the southwestern Kun position—a term in Daoist internal alchemy for a specific location within the body—they can approach the state in which they first received Qi and took shape in the womb. Why seek elsewhere?

It is lamentable that students of the Dao often cling to words and appearances, each insisting that their own view is correct. Those who reach too high and far mistake the way of the Golden Elixir for Chan Buddhism, take innate nature as the Mysterious Female—the alchemical gate of generation—and treat the arising of a thought as the first birth of Yang. They mistake the clearing away of deluded thoughts for advancing the fire, the process of directing the alchemical fire, and mock the teaching on prolonging life as nothing more than a phantom vision beside a corpse. Those with shallow understanding, in turn, take the Golden Elixir for sexual techniques, women for alchemical vessels, the vaginal opening for the place where life is born, and semen for the daogui, an alchemical medicine or measure. They then ridicule the nurturing of nature as nothing more than the lifeless sitting of seated meditation. One path sinks into emptiness and stillness; the other falls into deviance. Both groups remain deluded all their lives, which is truly cause for lament.

When the embryo first forms, it is like an egg: the two vital energies of Yin and Yang mingle, still undivided in chaos. After a hundred days, the male and female forms gradually appear; then the limbs, the five zang organs, the sinews, and the bones slowly take shape. At the end of ten months, the child is born. A newborn’s bones are weak, its sinews and flesh soft, and its skin delicate.

The “black and white” mentioned here refer to the two vital energies of Yin and Yang. In ordinary people, an embryo first forms when the father’s Jing, the mother’s blood, and the two vital energies of Yin and Yang combine. Those who refine the Golden Elixir must also devote ten months of practice to cultivating their own “infant.” This “infant” is the inner sacred embryo formed through cultivation, not a physical fetus. The Cui Xu Pian says: “In the past, I cultivated for a year. My six pulses had already ceased, and Qi had returned to its source. In my Dantian there was an infant whose appearance resembled mine.” Thus, cultivating the sacred embryo requires ten months of effort; one cannot rush to achieve it.

Yin and Yang Move According to Their Measure; the Souls Each Have Their Abode

The heavens have a Yellow Path: the course along which the sun and moon travel. A year has 365 degrees, and the celestial bodies revolve without pause. The sun and moon move back and forth along this course, rising and setting in turn; this creates day and night and establishes the seasons of cold and heat. The Way of Heaven moves in subtle, hidden ways and has no fixed number of degrees. People calculate its course by tracking the stars the sun and moon pass through. The sun and moon, too, have no fixed dwelling; people determine their positions from where they appear and disappear at dawn and dusk.

Understanding this makes it possible to grasp Wei Boyang’s statement, “Yin and Yang are the measure; the souls have their abode.” Within the human body, the “Yellow Path” is the route along which the Yin Talisman and Yang Fire move, and the place where the Sun Soul and Moon Soul reside. If one can observe the movement of the Way of Heaven, grasp its changes, and understand the patterns of Yin and Yang and the abodes of the souls, then the circuit of the heavens through 365 degrees can be experienced in a single breath, and the sun and moon’s rising and setting can be experienced through breathing. Exhalation belongs to Yang, and inhalation to Yin. In this way, the human body corresponds to the Way of Heaven; there is no need to seek it outside the body.

The Yang spirit is the Sun Soul, and the Yin spirit is the Moon Soul. The Soul and the Po depend on each other; each is the other’s abode.

An ancient song declares, “Who truly understands the Sun’s Hun and the Moon’s Po? Those who understand them are true immortals.” The Sun’s Hun and the Moon’s Po spoken of here are not the visible sun and moon in the heavens. They are the formless, subtle, hidden Sun’s Hun and Moon’s Po within our bodies. Without a realized person to guide us directly, how could we come to know them?

The sun belongs to Yang and spreads its light through the day, so it is called the “Hun.” The moon belongs to Yin and holds its light close through the night, so it is called the “Po.” In common usage, the Sun’s Hun belongs to Yang and may be called the Yang spirit; the Moon’s Po belongs to Yin and may be called the Yin essence. Here, however, both are called “spirit,” because they are constantly changing, moving throughout the four quarters of Heaven and Earth, coming and going without a fixed position, and having no permanent place above or below. The Hun belongs to Wood in the East, and the Po to Metal in the West. Metal and Wood are not, in essence, two things cut off from each other. Since East and West move toward one another and alternate in entering and leaving, they are said to “be each other’s dwelling.”

Nature governs stillness and resides within; feeling is active and operates outwardly. Nature governs stillness and keeps to the interior, like sitting upright with an empty mind and turning one’s gaze inward. “Establishing the walls and ramparts” means grasping the essence of Metal as the foundation for cultivating life. Feeling is active and moves outward, like a pivot turning day and night. “Ever serving as the outer walls” means that its movement extends through all eight directions, like a dragon moving through the firing phases. When the body and mind are fully protected and their activity runs its course, the Qi mechanism can settle and flow freely. “People and things are then at peace” means here that the breath moves steadily, Qi is full, and Shen is nourished and preserved. At this point, feeling comes into harmony with Qian and Kun: the “River Cart” turns day and night without pause, carrying Jing and Qi in Neidan practice, silently attuning to the workings of cosmic creation.

Qian, which symbolizes Yang, stirs with vigor, spreading Qi and setting Jing in motion. Kun, which symbolizes Yin, is still and receptive, encompassing the myriad things and becoming the dwelling place of the Dao’s workings.

Qian is Heaven. It governs movement, opening a way for all things to pass through the cosmos; hence it is called “straight.” Through its movement, Qian reaches everywhere, and the vital essence flows out, filling the Three Palaces—the body’s three important regions—without leaving any place untouched. Kun is Earth. It governs stillness, drawing all things in and storing them within the soil; hence it is called “gathering.” Through its stillness, Kun draws things together, and the vital essence returns to the Primordial Sea, where primordial Qi gathers and the foundation of the Dao resides. In general, to abide by Qian is to move: movement disperses Qi and sets the vital essence flowing. To abide by Kun is to be still: stillness gathers Qi and congeals the vital essence.

After the firm Yang Qi has acted, it withdraws; the yielding Yin Qi then transforms and nurtures growth.

The Yang Qi of Qian descends to nourish the Yin of Kun, which receives it with yielding softness; thus the “medicine” is generated—the substance cultivated in Neidan (internal alchemy). Once it has formed, it is refined through the firing process. The firm Yang Qi acts and withdraws, while the yielding Yin Qi moves upward and transforms into sweet spring water, which moistens the Nine Regions—a term for the vast expanse of heaven and earth.

Nine returns, seven reversals, eight reunions, six dwellings.

“Six, seven, eight, and nine” respectively represent Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal. In terms of the trigrams, they are Kan, Li, Zhen, and Dui; in terms of direction, north, south, east, and west; in terms of the lunar mansions, Xu, Fang, Xing, and Mao; symbolically, the tortoise, snake, dragon, and tiger; in terms of the seasons, spring, summer, autumn, and winter; and in terms of the earthly branches, Zi, Wu, Mao, and You. All these expressions refer to the same things.

The phrases “nine is called returning,” “seven is called reverting,” and “eight is called coming home” have similar meanings. Only six is called “dwelling,” because it dwells in the northern position of Kan. The northern Kan position is the source of True Lead, a Neidan term for a key substance or symbol in alchemical practice. When True Lead dwells here, the vital energies of Metal, Wood, and Fire from the other three directions gather there, like spokes converging at a wheel’s hub or rivers flowing into the sea.

In his commentary on the Scripture of the Golden and Jade Luminance of the Dragon and Tiger, Wang Baoyi writes that the sun has three kinds of illumination and the moon three kinds of movement. When the sun and moon rise in the east and their light shines on the west, the vital energy of Metal’s De, symbolized by the western White Tiger, enters the Mysterious Cavity—the place where Qi gathers in Neidan practice—and transforms into “Six Wu.” When the sun and moon enter the west and their light shines on the east, the vital energy of Wood’s De, symbolized by the eastern Azure Dragon, enters the Mysterious Cavity and transforms into “Six Ji.” When the sun and moon reach the position of Wu and their light shines on the north, the vital energy of Fire’s De, symbolized by the southern Vermilion Bird, enters the Mysterious Cavity. Relying on Earth, it takes form and transforms into Black Lead. Black Lead often dwells in the deep and mysterious realm and is regarded as the root of all things between Heaven and Earth. Although Lord Wang’s account and Wei Boyang’s discussion come from different eras, they accord with one another.

“Male is white, female is red; Metal and Fire bind one another. Once bound, Water settles.” This means that white and red, Metal and Fire, draw together. Once they unite, Water settles.

The “Cui Xu Chapter” says: “These wondrous things often make people laugh; nowadays, even a man can become pregnant. The essence and blood within the body unite with one another, and the husband and wife within the body come together. It is truly beyond words.”

“Becoming pregnant” here refers to forming the “sacred embryo of the Golden Elixir” in Neidan (internal alchemy)—a result of cultivation formed by gathering the inner Jing, Qi, and Shen. It does not mean childbirth in the ordinary sense. Yin-Yang, male and female, red and white, husband and wife are all metaphors for corresponding things within the body. When Yin and Yang respond to one another inside the body, Shen and Qi unite, like gold interacting with fire. They settle within Kan water, which symbolizes the north. Shen then gathers and Qi converges. Once the mind and spirit are calm, the “medicine”—a term in Neidan for the gathered state of Jing, Qi, and Shen—forms.

The “Returning the Gold Chapter” says: “When the water is clear and settled, it is like amber.” The “water” here is the source on which the Great Elixir, the goal of Neidan cultivation, depends. “Heaven’s One gives rise to water” refers to water as one of the Five Phases, associated with the north and with the Kan trigram in the Bagua (Eight Trigrams). The scripture describes it as the place within the body where the medicine arises. Practitioners should turn the light inward at this place, gathering their awareness and observing within. They should make the exhalation fine and the inhalation long, without interrupting the breath, allowing Shen and Qi gradually to return to their root as breathing becomes gentle, even, and calm. After prolonged stillness, the breath grows extremely faint, until it seems there is no breathing at all; then the medicine naturally congeals.

“The highest good is like water, clear and without flaw” means that the highest good is as clear and flawless as water.

The highest goodness is like water: it follows the natural course of things and does not act with deliberate effort. The Great Way of the Golden Elixir also teaches clarity, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action), following what comes naturally.

Ma Danyang, a Quanzhen Daoist, says in his Recorded Sayings that those who cultivate the Dao must never let their minds stray from it, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. When walking, place each foot steadily on level ground; when standing, let the mind and spirit rest in emptiness; when sitting, regulate the breath through the nose; when lying down, keep watch over the “pearl” below the navel, a metaphor for the Dantian (energy center) in Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. Practise this for a long time without interruption, appearing all day like a dull-witted person: this is steady work. It is not deliberate contrivance or forced cultivation. Is Danyang’s teaching not precisely about following what comes naturally?

The Understanding of Reality says: “Futilely tending the medicine furnace and watching the firing times is not as good as settling the mind and breath and letting them follow their natural course.” The Shangqing Collection says: “The secrets of the immortals are not complicated; they simply consist in keeping an honest simplicity, like ordinary people.” This, too, may be called following what comes naturally.

Water’s nature is to be calm and still; stir it, and it becomes muddy. The mysteries of the Golden Elixir arise entirely from calm and stillness. The Treatise on Returning to the Source says: “Understand the ingredients and the firing times, and you will see the Elixir form in settled stillness.” Clearly, without first settling into stillness, one cannot attain it.

The Dao has no form or image and is difficult to depict. It transforms and spreads, each thing existing independently.

There is something whole and undivided that existed before Heaven and Earth appeared. I do not know what it is called, so I can only provisionally call it the Dao (the Way). It has no form that can be sought out and no image that can be seen—much less can it be depicted.

Long ago, Guangchengzi told the Yellow Emperor: “The subtlety of the utmost Dao is profound and obscure; its ultimate point is dark and still.” In that profound stillness, the mind holds no thought and every consideration fades away. All is whole and undivided, like the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) before it separates; it is murky and obscure, like the two Yin-Yang principles before they appear. This presence alone is clear and distinct, like a deep pool reflecting the moon. It is utterly still, like a calm surface without ripples. At that time, one cannot yet distinguish lead from mercury.

This is called “the True One”: the whole and undivided state of things before they separate. When the time arrives, the movement of Qi (vital energy) changes and begins to spread. The light and clear rises, while the heavy and turbid sinks. Thus lead is found in the Kan palace, the trigram position representing water and Yin, and mercury in the Li palace, the position representing fire and Yang. What was originally one undifferentiated whole now divides into two parts, each settling in its proper place. The Pian on Returning to the Mandate says: “One thing divides into two; know the names of the two. The cauldron and furnace conceal sun and moon; the water clock has reached the third watch.” This is what those lines mean.

The great medicine of the Golden Elixir, the condensed Jing and Qi sought through Neidan (internal alchemy), is conceived in the precelestial and formed in the postcelestial. Its mystery lies in the moment when the Taiji is about to separate but has not yet done so: stillness has reached its peak but has not yet turned into movement; Yang Qi is about to be reborn but has not yet broken free of Yin. If one can grasp the turning point in the movement of Heaven and Earth, recognize where the Elixir forms, and know how to begin the practice, one can find this presence amid the indistinct and draw in true essence from the depths. Only then does one understand that the great Dao can bring forth being from nonbeing, and that the mystery of the True One truly cannot be expressed in a picture. Does this mean the mystery of the True One can never be revealed to anyone? The answer is: it can.

A yangsui, an ancient fire-making device, draws fire from the sun; without the sun, no flame appears. A fangzhu, an ancient device for drawing water, gathers water; without the light of the stars and moon, no liquid can be obtained. The sun and moon are far distant from us, yet their Qi still responds and connects with ours. How much more so with Yin and Yang Qi, which are present close at hand within the human body and are especially connected with the chest and heart. Yin and Yang correspond to the sun and moon; water and fire are the signs that confirm this correspondence.

The Rites of Zhou, in the “Offices of Autumn” section, records that the Director of Fire was responsible for using a fuisui, a bronze mirror for kindling fire, to draw bright fire from the sun, and for using a mirror to draw clear water beneath the moon. The sun and moon are far distant, yet their Qi still responds and connects with ours. How much more so with Yin and Yang Qi, which is within the human body and closely connected with the chest and heart. Yin and Yang correspond to the sun and moon, while water and fire are the signs that confirm their efficacy.

The “Officers of Autumn” section of the Rites of Zhou records that the Director of Fire, using a “fu-sui”—a device for kindling fire—could draw fire from the sun, and could also use a mirror to draw water from the moon. The Huainanzi says that when the fangzhu, a yin-sui—a device for drawing water, which commentators identify as a large clam—is turned toward the moon, water condenses on it. Gao You explains that if the fangzhu is rubbed carefully until polished and then faced toward the moon, water will form.

The earth lies an unknown tens of millions of li from the sky, and no one knows how far the sun and moon, suspended in the heavens, are from the earth. Yet a yang-sui can draw fire when turned toward the sun, and a fangzhu can draw water when turned toward the moon. Why do they respond to one another and produce transformations so quickly? What is more, what cultivation seeks is close at hand, so near that it lies within the human breast: the body itself contains water and fire, and the heart contains the ingredients of the elixir. Should we not gather in our scattered mind and spirit, turn our gaze inward, and seek to understand the mystery of this responsive transformation?

For example, on the night of the full moon on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, a hare in the deep mountains conceives the breath of a fetus, while a clam in the vast sea forms a pearl. How do these beings respond to one another and bring forth such transformations? Humans live between heaven and earth and are the most spiritually endowed of all creatures. Yet they cannot draw forth the essence of heaven and earth or seize the workings of creation. Are they really inferior to hares and clams? Have those who study the way of immortality ever given this matter serious thought?

In general, when Yin and Yang unite and things of the same kind resonate with one another, transformation occurs naturally. When Master Wei (Wei Boyang) cites the yang-sui drawing fire and the fangzhu drawing water, he means to urge students of the Dao to focus their attention inward: even in what is formless, tangible things can come into being. This transformative influence is like drawing fire or water with an instrument. The Treatise on Returning the Elixir says, “As soon as the two energies join, sweet rain descends; when the two spirits meet, jade liquid flows.” This describes precisely that process.

Mirrors and pearls are bright and pure, transparent both inside and out, without the slightest flaw. They can therefore gather the light of the sun and moon and concentrate it into a single point of radiance. Though the sun and moon are far away, they respond at once. Stillness and concentration allow things to gather; only what gathers can take form. When a thought stirs, it disperses, and what disperses returns to nothing. If a person can empty the heart and concentrate the spirit, remain calm and still, and harbor not a single deluded thought—becoming as pure and flawless as a mirror or pearl—then the light of the sun and moon within them will gather without dispersing. In time, when the breath has settled and the moment is right, wondrous effects will arise naturally.

In short, the highest Dao is not far away; it is always right before us. It is like a lodestone attracting iron: even with something in between, they connect unseen, because the distance is in truth very small. People are simply deluded and cannot turn their thoughts back, so they do not know to seek within themselves. In a poem, Master Ningxuan says, “Earnestly discuss the Dao with your teacher and companions: the wondrous Dao is nowhere else; it is right before your eyes.” He also says, “In those days, I received a single essential instruction from my master, then quietly drew the curtains and pondered it closely.” These words could hardly be more to the point.

Guard the three vital apertures of the ears, eyes, and mouth closely, and do not let Jing and Qi leak out.

The Yinfu Jing says, “The harm arising through the nine apertures lies in the three essentials.” These “three essentials” are the ears, eyes, and mouth. Wei Boyang called them the “Three Treasures,” meaning that practitioners should draw in their ears and eyes so they are not led astray by external sounds and sights; they should close their mouths and preserve the true Qi within, treasuring it like a precious object and not letting it disperse outward.

This is like steaming rice in a pot and steamer: when the lid is sealed tightly and a fire burns beneath it, with not the slightest gap to the outside, heat gathers within, and after a while the rice is cooked. Practice in the meditation chamber should be the same: draw back the gaze, focus the spirit and listen inwardly, close the mouth and hold the saliva, letting not a trace of true Qi escape. Only then can the elixir ingredients gradually grow and form the Great Elixir. If the ears are drawn away by sounds and the eyes stirred by beauty, while spirit and Qi race outward, all Three Treasures will be depleted. How then could one hope to obtain the Returning Elixir?

The perfected person lies hidden in the depths of the abyss, floating and moving to and fro, yet always abiding at the “center of the compass”—the central position maintained by body and mind in Neidan practice.

Here, the “True Person” refers to the Original Spirit, a person’s authentic spiritual nature, and the “deep abyss” refers to the Great Abyss. Though the names are many, they all describe the same place: the Palace of the Muddy Pellet (the central region of the head, where the brain is located), the Palace of Flowing Pearls, the Jade Clarity Palace, the Purple Clarity Palace, the Emerald Subtlety Palace, the Great Subtlety Palace, the Palace of the Great One, the Mysterious Pass, the Mysterious Gate, the Mysterious Palace, the Mysterious Chamber, the Mysterious Valley, the Mysterious Field, the Cinnabar Field, the First Pass, the Central Pass, the Heavenly Pass, the Heavenly Gate, the Heavenly Valley, the Heavenly Field, the Heavenly Heart, the Heavenly Wheel, the Heavenly Axis, the Heavenly Source, the Heavenly Pool, the Heavenly Root, Heaven, the Heavenly Palace, the Palace of Qian, the Qian Family, the Palace of Intermingling, the Palace of Li, the Spirit Palace, the Spirit Chamber, the Spirit Pass, the Spirit Capital, the Spirit Metropolis, the Mysterious Metropolis, the Former Capital, the Former Home, the Former Mound, the Former Grove, the Former Palace, the Purple Mansion, the Purple Court, the Purple Gold City, the Purple Gold Cauldron, the Cinnabar Cauldron, the Mercury Cauldron, the Jade Cauldron, the Jade Chamber, the Jade Capital, the Jade Pavilion, the Jade Peak, the First Peak, the Highest Peak, Mount Zhurong, the Summit of Kunlun, Mount Kongtong, Penglai, the Upper Island, the Upper Capital, the Upper Palace, the Upper Mysterious, the Upper Origin, the Upper Valley, the Upper Earth Crucible, and the Upper Dantian (energy center). Though the names differ, they all point to the same place.

The Cui Xu Pian says, “Heaven has seven stars, earth has seven treasures, and humans have seven apertures; their vital key lies in the brain.” The Taigu Ji says that when the Golden Elixir is directed to the Muddy Pellet point, one must first remember where it is; the Jade Metropolis, referring to the region of the Muddy Pellet, is the Way by which the Emperor One returns to the Origin. In cultivation, the breath runs counter to its usual course, ascending along the hundred channels to nourish the Muddy Pellet. When the brain is full, the spirit becomes complete; when the spirit is complete, the body is also sound.

Wei Boyang’s words, “The True Person hides in the deep abyss, floating and drifting while guarding the center of the compass,” mean that one follows the True Breath—the subtle, natural breathing of cultivation—as it comes and goes, allowing True Qi to rise and descend. From morning to night, the Original Spirit remains settled in the Muddy Pellet. The Huangting Jing says, “If you wish to live long, cultivate Kunlun.” The Jingzhong Yin says, “I cultivated Kunlun and obtained the true secret.” The Fuming Pian says to cultivate an acre of Heavenly Field within oneself; the Huanyuan Pian says that once this Way is understood, one can sit calmly upright and set the Heavenly Pass in motion.

This is an extremely simple method of cultivation: one need only activate the aperture at the crown of the head and calmly, evenly contemplate the Three Palaces—the body’s three important inner regions. Then the Qi mechanism will naturally rise and descend, and the channels and apertures throughout the body will naturally open and flow freely. It is like moving a huge ship with a short piece of wood, or firing a mighty crossbow with a trigger only an inch long; almost no effort is required. Those who have not yet understood often simply do not believe it. To go further and visualize Lord Lao sitting in the Palace of the Muddy Pellet, then silently bow to him, is unnecessary.

Draw the gaze inward and turn awareness within, allowing the Qi of Li Fire to circulate through the body and nourish body and mind, while the Qi of Kan Water is not dissipated outward. Let the ears cease straining to hear external sounds and the mouth refrain from excessive speech. Speak little and desire little, in keeping with the undivided, natural state of Wuwei (non-action). Once the three gateways of the eyes, ears, and mouth have been gathered in and closed, relax the body and rest quietly in an empty, still room.

The way of inner cultivation seeks to make the energies of body and mind full without letting them leak outward. Draw in the gaze and turn awareness inward, so that the spirit does not show itself outwardly. Withdraw the hearing and listen quietly within, so that the mind and spirit are not dissipated by sounds from the outside world. Speak little and remain calm in Wuwei (non-action), letting the mind settle into stillness and clarity like the undivided state before Heaven and Earth took shape. These practices are meant to protect the “sacred embryo,” a term for the state in Neidan cultivation in which the true Qi within the body gathers and congeals.

Once these three practices are in place, the body should also be relaxed, and cultivation should take place in a quiet, empty room. “Relaxing the body” means moving at an unhurried pace and not tiring the body. An “empty room” is a quiet chamber with no clutter, furnished only with a stick of incense, a lamp, a table, and a bed. The place for quiet sitting should be neither too bright, which harms the hun soul, nor too dark, which harms the po soul. Daoism holds that the hun belongs to Yang and favors brightness, while the po belongs to Yin and favors darkness. Thus the Cuixu Pian says that the quiet room should face east, so the morning sun can shine in, and should have bright windows that catch the evening light. It also says not to extinguish the bright lamp and to burn baihe incense, made from a blend of many fragrant ingredients.

Entering a quiet room to cultivate is an exceptionally important opportunity, not a trivial matter. The Wuzhen Pian says, “This Way is supremely numinous and sacred; I fear those with meager fortune may not bear it.” The meaning is that this path of cultivation is wondrous and holy, and that those with little good fortune may find it difficult to sustain. How could people without virtue presumptuously seek it at will?

A quiet room need not be set in the mountains or forests. It may also be in a city or near a Daoist temple; any place is suitable if it offers the right support. Some wonder why the Wuzhen Pian says that cultivating in a large town requires financial backing. The reason is that before the “Great Medicine”—the crucial attainment sought in Neidan cultivation—has been refined, practitioners need clothing throughout the year to protect them from cold and heat. And until their true Qi is abundant, they still need three meals a day. Wu Daling received help from his friends Zhang and Cheng; Zhang Ziyang was assisted by the two gentlemen Ma and Lu; Wang Chongxi received support from Lord Fu Han; and Li Changyuan was cared for by friends and relatives in Junyang. All eventually attained success. The cycles of firing and timing in the practice of the Celestial Circuit must be sustained without interruption. Practitioners therefore need like-minded people who are able to look after them and provide food, clothing, and other daily necessities. Freed from hunger, cold, and hardship, and from the distractions they bring, practitioners can devote themselves fully to cultivation.

The Song of the Golden Liquid Returning to the Elixir by the True Yin Lord says, “Without the right place, do not act recklessly.” The Wuzhen Pian also says that the treasures of nature and life must not be used lightly. Those who truly receive the authentic transmission of this Way will understand its proper limits.

Set the mind in emptiness—a still and clear state undisturbed by distracting thoughts—and keep this intention present at all times.

“To direct the will and return it to emptiness” means to be free of distracting thoughts, to keep the mind from scattering outward, and to experience the realm of true emptiness throughout the day. “To regard this thought as constant, moment after moment” means to let the thought continue without interruption and, over the long term, bring the movement of one’s own breath into accord with the Way of Heaven.

Some may wonder whether this method resembles Chan Buddhism. But they should understand that the Golden Elixir is born as something real within emptiness, and cultivation brings the embryo toward maturity. “Infant” is a term for the Elixir embryo formed through Neidan practice. This is not dull sitting facing a wall, lifeless as dead wood and cold ashes. Bai Ziqing’s Recorded Sayings states: “The first key to cultivating the Elixir is gathering Qi and concentrating Shen. Constantly holding firm—maintaining oneself with the fists clenched—is gathering Qi; keeping silent moment after moment—stilling and gathering the mind—is concentrating Shen. If those who study the Dao know only to empty the mind and have no thoughts, but do not understand how to gather Qi and concentrate Shen, they will fall into lifeless emptiness. How, then, could they bring the immortal embryo to completion?”

The signs of progress in cultivation will emerge naturally, step by step: the mind becomes single-minded and no longer scatters at will.

When cultivation reaches three parts, there will be three parts of verification; when it reaches ten parts, there will be ten parts of verification. If you cultivate diligently without pause, day and night, then, once your work is complete after a hundred days and its effects become apparent, you may feel as though hot water is boiling your two kidneys and fire is burning in your bladder. Your eyes may fill with spiritual light, your ears hear strange sounds, your nose smell unusual fragrances, and sweet saliva arise in your mouth. Your whole body will feel warm and at ease. These signs emerge gradually over time: the degree of verification corresponds to the effort put into cultivation.

Cultivation depends on single-mindedness; you must not let your thoughts wander at will. If you have not yet fully grasped the principles, then in stillness, in a state between waking and dreaming, you may be misled by illusory realms. Chapter Thirty-Nine of Zhixuan says, “Do not cling to appearances that arise from outside. Instead, focus your mind and hold firm, so that tiger and dragon may coil together.” These are sound words.

Ding Lingyang’s Art of Mind and Nature says that if, while sitting in meditation, you forcefully suppress your thoughts and go too far in your practice, you may suddenly see various realms appear before you: immortals and Buddhas, ghosts and spirits, towers and pavilions, or radiant lights. When faced with such phenomena, you must not feel either attachment or aversion. The Master said, “Your own nature is vast, empty, and clear; let appearances change in countless ways. In general, as long as your thoughts remain unmoved, all disturbances will naturally recede. As long as the heart’s fire does not arise, spirit and Qi will gather together, and child and mother will remain joined. Then Water and Fire will naturally mingle. When Water meets Fire, it transforms into Qi and rises, steaming through every opening in the body until it reaches everywhere. The hundred channels are thereby brought into balance, and the limbs and body become harmonious. Guard this carefully, and your cultivation of the Dao will naturally accord with it.”

Wang Qiyun’s Recorded Sayings from Panshan says that practitioners encounter many different realms while sitting in meditation. All of them are transformations of their own discriminating spirit—the mind that distinguishes and thinks—which emerge during meditation to beguile the mind and spirit. Have you not heard the ancients say, “Whatever has form…”