《圆峤内篇》Vol. 5

(General Introduction)

“Heaven” is empty, numinous, clear and bright—unclouded and undisturbed—holding within it all principles and yet able to respond to the existence of the myriad things. People cultivate precisely in order to recover this numinous, empty original nature. “Goodness” is that first spark heaven gives to human beings—the root of nature (xing) and the stem of the heart-mind; only through clear awakening can one see what is originally real. The gateway of the great Dao first teaches people to “fully realize their nature” (jinxing); the crux likewise lies in cultivating De (Virtue/Power) and clarifying goodness.

Chapter Twelve (Scripture)

In cultivating the Dao, be at ease and free; guard the body alone. Nourish life and nature, and hold fast to emptiness and non-being. Be plain and tranquil, practicing Wuwei (non-action)—do not indulge in excessive thought and worry. When the wings are fully formed, they grow lush and spreading; long life and clear vision end in ascent and departure.

(Commentary)

“Practicing the Dao” means cultivating the Dao. Whether one remains in the human world or withdraws beyond it, the cultivator should be leisurely and self-possessed, guarding the person and dwelling often in solitude. Within the body are both “nature” (xing) and “life” (ming); one must support and nurture them day by day: first use jade refinement (inner work) to clarify nature, then use gold refinement (inner work) to establish life—the secret is simply to inwardly hold to “emptiness and non-being” (xuwu). Among heaven and earth, people are prone to much thought and worry; if one can hold to xuwu, one becomes plain and calm, governing through Wuwei—what need for thought and worry? In the immortal tradition, refining Qi (vital energy) is likened to forging “wings”; when spirit and Qi are complete, the wings are formed. “Spreading and lush” (fushu) means spirit and Qi flow smoothly, like branches and leaves in full leaf. Thus nature and life are complete within and the bodily form is secured without; one may hide or appear among people, enjoying long life and clear vision; when one long wearies of the dusty world, one sheds the shell and flies away.

Chapter Thirteen (Scripture)

The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are unevenly arrayed, yet they share one root and one node; “three-five” (sanwu) unite in harmony—the essential contract lies in a single place. Who can struggle with them against sun and moon? Embrace the pearl and cherish the jade, harmonizing with the “child chamber” (zishi). If you can guard the One, the myriad affairs are fulfilled; you originally possess this—hold it and do not lose it. If you wish not to die, store it in the “golden chamber” (jinshi).

(Commentary)

The Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—though uneven, all root in one Qi (vital energy); “three-five” often refers to fire and water, essence (Jing), Qi, and spirit (Shen), and the like—all to be united in the One; the foundation lies in “guarding the One” (shouyi). Those who walk with the Dao may move in step with sun and moon; in inner cultivation one embraces the origin, guards the pearl, and warms the jade, harmonizing with the Dantian (energy center)—the “child chamber”—and its spirit and Qi. Able to guard unity and hold the center, the ten thousand affairs naturally reach completion; this “One” is originally complete in you—maintain it and do not lose it. If you seek long life without death, you must store true spirit, essence, and Qi in the “golden chamber”—a metaphor for firming essence, warm nourishment, and the place of sealing and storing— and not let them leak outward.

Cuohe means interwoven alternation and mutual use. When the Five Phases follow the usual order, they are Metal, Water, Wood, Fire, and Earth, each generating and nourishing the next in turn; when they are deployed in interwoven fashion, Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth also restrain and check one another. There are further patterns such as Wood descending while Metal ascends, and Water as host while Fire is guest—principles that cannot be forced into a single uniform rule, hence the phrase “the Five Phases in cuohe.” Yet in the end it is still one Qi completing the work, sharing one root and one node. Three joined with five gives the number eight; dividing Yin and Yang, it falls right after “seven days and return.” Tracing to the source, from emptiness and non-being arises the pre-heaven single Qi; that one Qi again divides into Yin and Yang—so the root is said to lie in “the One.” This Qi is nourished within emptiness and non-being. Who can guard it alongside? The sun and moon of the northern pole (ri and yue) are just that. The Dipper’s bowl and handle stars move and rest with clear distinction, used to inspect the seasons; the Li trigram is the sun, the Kan trigram the moon—Water and Fire share the palace and refine together; the cultivator need only embrace the bright pearl and hold the fine jade, harmonizing the “child chamber”—nothing more. The child chamber is emptiness and non-being. If one can guard and hold the single Qi of emptiness and non-being, wait for it to arrive and then seize and subdue it, then nature and life are in one’s hands and all affairs are complete. This “One” is inherently present in the body; one must hold to it always and never lose it—lose it and one dies; not lose it and one does not die. If one wishes long life without death, one must store this One back in the golden inner chamber, never parting from it—then the great elixir can be achieved.

Chapter Fourteen

Sun out and moon in—this is the constant of our Way. Heaven seven, earth two—together they guard and keep. Ascending, descending, advancing, retreating—one joins with nine. Jade and stone gleam bright—these are our supreme treasures. They are inherent in your body—why not guard them? The heart knows the root and stem; nourish its blossoms and luster. Follow heaven, accord with earth; store essence in the sea. Within seven days, returning light merges and combines; the nature of Kunlun is not confused or lost.

Cuohe means interwoven mutual use; the Five Phases may generate in order or restrain one another—all are one Qi with the same root. Guard the single Qi of emptiness and non-being, embrace the pearl and hold the jade, harmonize with the child chamber, store the One in the golden chamber—then the elixir forms and one does not die. Sun out and moon in, heaven seven and earth two, ascending and descending with one joining nine—all describe firing times and resonance with heaven and earth. Heart-root, blossoms and luster, the sea of essence, seven days of returning light, Kunlun without confusion—all point to the stages of inner refinement and a heart-nature that does not turn with circumstances.

When the sun rises and the moon sets, that is the path by which yang withdraws and yin arrives; cultivators treat this rhythm of yin and yang as the great Dao they must grasp in their own practice.

“Heavenly seven” is the completion number of fire in the traditional numerology: fire is completed in heaven and moves downward, corresponding to the Weiji (Not Yet Fulfilled) hexagram in the Yijing. “Earthly two” is the generating number of fire: fire arises from earth and moves upward, corresponding to the Jiji (Already Fulfilled) hexagram. Weiji and Jiji restrain and complete each other, which in inner refinement describes how “metal” and “water” work together. Ascending, descending, advancing, and retreating are simply the vertical exchange of yin and yang. “One combines with nine” means metal and water cannot be separated: in advance, the metal within water rises; in retreat, the water within metal descends—this is the subtlety of increase and decrease.

“Jade and stone gleaming” likens the golden elixir to drops one by one, like eggs or pills, passing down the throat to become the supreme treasure within the body. The golden elixir’s return is inherent in everyone; once obtained it must be held steadily over time, and that holding deepens the root and secures the stem. What makes the path clearest is the heart: when the heart understands the root, warming and nurturing the returned elixir with metal and water, it glows steadily and gradually unfolds in splendor. In such methods the key is to align with Qian heaven and yield to Kun earth, act in accord with heavenly timing, and store the sea of essence well. The sea of essence is also the primordial sea. Within the cycle of “return in seven days,” the inner court sets the weekly star in motion, merges with the already formed elixir, nourishes it at the middle Kunlun and adjusts it at the upper Kunlun, until emptiness, clarity, and stillness prevail and original nature is round and bright—hence it is said: the nature of Kunlun is not confused.

How lofty and firm is Mount Jiuyuan—in Daoist internal landscape theory, “Jiuyuan” (Nine Sources) often corresponds to the “nine liquid sources” spoken of in the Neijing Jing (Scripture of Inner Landscape); nine belongs to Metal in the Five Phases, and also symbolizes the nine kinds of subtle essences within the body. On the mountain dwells a zhenren (True Person—a perfected being who has attained the Way), who can be summoned to serve and guard one’s practice.

Upon the peak stand the Zigong (Purple Palace—the “palace of purple qi” corresponding to the upper Dantian) and the Dancheng Tower (a gate-tower and pavilion figured in the language of the elixir path), while sun and moon circle round like luminous pearls protecting it from without.

Long life is not a fixed number of years; “ten thousand years, bright and clear” is only a figure for enduring radiance. Outwardly, take the Three Yang as foundation, and the yang essence of heaven and earth will naturally gather in; inwardly, nurture the Three Spirits (usually Jing, Qi, and Shen, or the three chief spirits of the body), and one may approach longevity.

In practice, grasp the parting and reuniting of hun and po: hun tends upward and easily “wishes to ascend to heaven”; po tends downward and easily “enters the abyss” (returns to storage below). If one can, in accord with the natural Way, bring hun back and po home so each rests in its place, one may hope to jiezhu (form the pearl—condense the inner elixir like a pearl) and gu linggen (firm the spirit root—the root of life, often meaning the Dantian or the root of vitality)—images common in Neidan (internal alchemy).

The Nine Sources are what the Inner Landscape Scripture calls the sources of the nine fluids. Nine belongs to Metal, and source belongs to Water—where the previous chapter treated the application of Metal and Water, this chapter treats their root.

The Nine Sources lie beneath Kunlun, hence the name Mountain of the Nine Sources. “Towering” describes the height of the mountain. Within the mountain dwells a perfected one, titled the Youth of Dark Mystery, also called Taokang, who may be dispatched and commanded. Shielded and guarded by the Purple Palace and the towers of the Cinnabar City, with sun and moon like bright pearls on left and right—these images speak of how tightly things are hidden and protected. When concealment and protection are thorough, inner fire can be refined and pure, and the way of immortality can be achieved. “Ten thousand years, clear and bright; long clarity, long vision”—this is not a span that can be counted in years and months; it is the joy of the Great Return, when the elixir is complete.

First cultivate the elixir within and set the vessel without: the three yang of Qian and the three yin of Kun, heaven and earth inverted, host and guest interwoven; with Qian entering Kun, the three yang remain outside, and in an instant the pre-heaven single thing arrives unbidden—named lead within water. Using lead to restrain mercury, returning from without to within, gathering essence and nurturing spirit, the three yang replenish the three yin until the Qian body is restored again—this is joining and long life.

The three spirits mean the three yin: nurture the three spirits within, while the outer elixir rests upon the inner elixir. Once the inner elixir is settled, clarity and stillness prevail, and long life becomes possible. Those who cannot attain long life, at the point of death, want the hun to rise to heaven and the po to sink into earth; hun and po do not hold each other, and lead and mercury each go their own way. Returning the hun and recalling the po means drawing down the hun that would ascend and bringing out the po that would descend, so hun and po constrain each other—as the Awakening to Reality says, “Earth po captures cinnabar mercury; heaven hun controls water metal”: this is the natural principle of the great Dao.

When elixir cultivation reaches this point, one may almost form the bright pearl, forever firm the root of spirit and wonder, and become an immortal.

“Spinning Armillary” (Xuanji) and “Suspended Pearl” (Xuanzhu) are like a ring with no beginning: Xuanji refers to advancing the yang fire and the upward circulation of yang qi; Xuanzhu refers to withdrawing the yin talisman (Yinfu), with yin essence descending like pearls or jade. When the two unite, the yang elixir and yin elixir congeal within, sealed doubly by the jade key and golden key—only then does the body appear whole and firm. “Borne by earth” means the Kun earth in the Yellow Court (Huangting); “turned by heaven” means the Qian metal represented by the white fluid. In one circuit of the heavenly orbit, the subtle interplay of Qian, Kun, yin, and yang is fully displayed. Bathing at the fire phases of Mao and You, waxing and waning, birth and death, also symbolize the turning of the four seasons; as the seasons shift and flower turns to fruit, in the tenth month frost falls, leaves yellow and fruit ripens, the color red as cinnabar—this is why “returning to the root and restoring the origin” (fanben huanyuan) is called “elixir” (dan), and it is the essential point of nurturing the elixir. (The following lines repeat the four seasons and the name “returning the elixir”; the meaning is the same.)

The place on which elixir-nurturing relies is “bowed in front, low in back”: in front is the Ren meridian ending at the lower abdomen, its image “bowed”; behind is the Du meridian rising from the tailgate (weilü), its form “low.” One bowed, one low—this is precisely the gate through which the golden elixir enters and exits. Coming and going each has its own place: when going out, one sees it off outward; when entering, one sees it back in. When the returned elixir is in hand, it is entrusted to the “Mysterious Spring” (Xuanquan). Xuanquan is a single aperture in emptiness, deep as an abyss—not the vulgar “Lotus Spring” under the tongue that outsiders talk about. The closing line, “like a turtle drawing breath to the Spirit Root (Lingen)”: if it were not in the depths, how could it be called the Spirit Root?

Brief note

This passage belongs to the imagery and fire phases of internal alchemy (Neidan): Spinning Armillary, Suspended Pearl, jade and golden keys, bearing earth and turning heaven, the four seasons and cinnabar-red elixir, the Ren and Du as bowed and low, returning the elixir and the Mysterious Spring, turtle breath drawing qi—all describe the rise and fall of fire phases, the union of yin and yang, and returning the elixir to the root, not literal astronomy or geography alone.

Plain-Language Reading of Yuanqiao Neipian

(Opening section)

In the depths of the abyss, a realized person wears a golden headcloth, carries armor, and holds fulu (talismans and registers), opening the seven gates. What is meant here is not side branches and minor details, but the root itself—one must sustain contemplation day and night before the true can be kept intact for long.

(Note: on “the center” and the “seven gates”)

“The center” (zhong) means within the deep abyss, not the lump of flesh-and-blood heart in the chest. The seven gates are a figure for the seven openings: in ordinary people the “flesh-ball heart” has the seven openings of eyes, ears, nose, and mouth; in cultivation, the “luminous, clear mind” (lingming xin) likewise has seven openings. This can be read alongside chapter 28 of the Neijing Jing (Internal Landscape Scripture).

(Chapter 18, continued)

Realized persons and Daoist adepts are not gods by birth; they become so by accumulating jing (essence) and qi (vital energy), and thus refine a true body. Ordinary people live on the five grains and the five flavors; cultivators alone nourish themselves with the yin-yang qi of “Great Harmony” (taihe), and so they do not die—they move with the Way of Heaven without end. (In “the heavenly aspect is exhausted” [tianxiang ji], ji here means “exhausted,” but in practice it denotes union with Heaven and no limit.)

Chapter 19

Briefly: the five viscera each have their place—the heart is sovereign and commands the five. When intent is single-minded, movement and stillness travel with qi, the Way naturally stays in the body, and the light of spirit (shen) appears of itself. One clears and benefits the splendid essence and harmonizes yin and yang; by day one is clear, by night one still holds fast. When thirsty one can “drink,” when hungry one can “be full”—meaning inner qi is self-sufficient, not dependent on outer food. Qi circulates through the six fu organs and aligns with mao and you (the mao and you hours of the twelve double-hours, or the waxing and waning of yin and yang). Yang turns and enters yin, stored in the “nine” (often the upper burner or the mud-pill palace [niwan], i.e., yang qi gathering inward and returning to the root). If one can truly practice in this way, one no longer knows that old age is coming.

Among the five viscera, the heart holds the place of sovereign; the human body is like a small realm, which is why the heart is called the “king.” Intention arises from the true heart: when the heart is still, it dwells together with Qi; when the heart moves, it assists Qi’s circulation. Intention and Qi are two aspects of one whole, hence the phrase “acting in tandem” (xie xing—they operate as one).

To obtain “true intention” (zhen yi), the key is shou shenming—guarding the spirit’s clarity and awakened awareness within. Only by guarding shenming can true intention arise and connect with the body’s essential vitality (hua jing; in neidan this often means zhen qian, the root of original Yang and the foundation of essence). When qian and mercury (mercury here points to the original spirit, the spiritual side) work in mutual support, Yin and Yang can be harmonized. From then on it is like zhao tun mu meng (morning taking the image of the Tun hexagram to “apply fire,” evening taking the image of the Meng hexagram to “apply the tally”—neidan language for regulating breath and refinement by time and hexagram): by day, in clear wakefulness, one xing huo (nourishes and raises Yang); by night, in quiet inward illumination, one xing fu (inner practice aligned with heaven-and-earth rhythms). Jin shui chou tian (drawing off and replenishing “gold” and “water”—adjusting essence and Qi by firing times) is like having drink when thirsty and food when hungry—the body and mind naturally fill.

When Qi moves through the six fu organs, original Qi fills the whole body, and the elixir is stored within the Mao-You Gate (often the dantian and qihai region and related passes). In that storing, the shift from Yang toward Yin is like the hidden dragon at chu jiu (the first line of the Qian hexagram in the Yijing, Yang just sprouting, deep and not yet outward)—all driven by the movement and stillness of single intention (yi).

If one can truly practice in this way, one can long preserve vitality and resist premature aging.

Plain-Language Explanation

The qi that the Liver governs is smooth, long, and even; it circulates through the Five Viscera and resonates with the Three Luminaries above (the qi of sun, moon, and stars and other celestial signs). Above it joins the Triple Burner; below it reaches the Jade Nectar (saliva and fluid in the mouth). Shen, Hun, and Po all dwell and guard the Central Palace (the middle palace and Yellow Court region). Essence-fluid wells like a spring—turbid is expelled, clear is kept; the body stands as if suspended in a high granary, holding and receiving in the Hall of Enlightenment (the “court” position below the forehead, between the brows, or above the diaphragm). Like thunder and lightning, they come and go in mutual support; Mao on the left and You on the right (directions, hours, and the left-right pairing in the body) are treasures of this person. Hidden at the Mysterious Gate (a secret pass in the body), one awaits the moment of the Way of Heaven; though close at hand in the body, one must still guard it oneself. In Wuwei—clear and without forced action—Shen stays put; spirit and essence divide above and below, each in its proper place. When the Way of Heaven flows freely, it is like obtaining the Herb of Long Life (a metaphor for the medicine of longevity and vital growth); the Seven Openings are already clear, and one no longer knows that old age is coming. One sits again at the Heavenly Gate (crown and Mud Palace region), watching the messages of Yin and Yang; below, passing the throat, connecting with the numinous brightness. Passing below Huagai (the Huagai acupoint region on the crown), keep it clear and guarded. Again: in clear Wuwei, Shen remains; spirit and essence separate above and below in order; when the Way of Heaven flows, it is the Herb of Long Life; the seven openings are open and one does not know old age; sitting again at the Heavenly Gate, awaiting Yin and Yang; below the throat, connecting with numinous brightness. Passing below Huagai—clear and cool—entering the Cold Clear Abyss, one sees one’s form; when it becomes the Returned Elixir, one may attain long life. Below is the Jade Pool (essence-fluid in the body, near the lower Dantian); it stirs Kidney Jing; standing in the Hall of Enlightenment, facing the Dantian, one will cause the spirits to open the Life Gate (the gate between the kidneys, the rear Life Gate, and similar body passes). When the Way of Heaven flows through to the Spirit Root (root of life, the lower Dantian or Kidneys), Yin and Yang are arrayed like the motion of shooting stars.

Editorial note (textual): Some editions append at the end of this chapter the line “Liver qi circulates to the end without end,” which largely matches this chapter. It may be a later comment; because seven characters were mixed into the main text, the editor could not bear to delete them, so they are attached here.

The liver governs dispersing and free flow: its qi moves smoothly without stagnation, gathers in abundance, and is sufficient to protect and sustain the whole body. The previous section spoke of the six fu-organs; here the focus is the five zang-organs—each organ is nourished by the fluid transformed from the Wood phase. Speaking of each organ in turn, every one relies on it to keep functioning; they also connect with the triple burner, and when jade broth (saliva in the mouth) descends, it merges with the true primordial qi and circulates without ceasing within the body.

The liver stores the hun (soul-aspect); here the text also mentions the heart’s shen (spirit) and the lungs’ po (corporeal soul)—all dwelling in the center. The saying that the “three surnames” (heart, liver, lungs, and related aspects) meet in the Yellow Palace (the central position of spleen-earth in the inner landscape) is a familiar image in inner-scene literature. Wood-phase fluid becomes a flowing spring that can wash away impurity and leave clarity and fragrance. “Standing at the suspended storehouse” describes fluid poised to descend, its momentum already gathered in the Mingtang (Bright Hall, the upper palace—heart or upper dantian); in a moment the spring pours down, irrigating the three palaces; in the stomach it is like thunder and lightning, moving together with the qi of the Bright Hall, then descending to the Jiangong (Red Palace, the middle palace—heart), and finally returning to the Yuanhai (Origin Sea, the lower dantian and qi sea).

This is the Mao and You gates: turning left, qi goes outward; turning right, fluid turns inward—this is the body’s supreme treasure. Between the Xu and Hai positions it lies hidden at the Mysterious Gate, and one must still wait for the great circuit of heaven to revolve. Outsiders say the Way of heaven is far; I say it is near—the degrees of the celestial circuit are in this very body, and one must still guard them according to the secret instructions. Clear purity and wuwei (non-action) settle the inner spirit; spirit divides above and below, moving back and forth to open the joints, unblocking the great pathways of the whole body—this is the “immortal herb” of long life. From here, if you irrigate diligently, the mind-ground grows clear, the seven openings open, and aging comes slowly. Such blessing depends entirely on the two qi of yin and yang: qi that rises above the Heaven Gate is “clear”; what descends below the Heaven Gate is “mysterious”—what the Neijing Jing calls “going out with clarity, entering with mystery, the two qi shining,” is exactly this. Therefore one must concentrate spirit and still breath, return to sit at the Heaven Gate, and wait for yin and yang to separate and for clarity to rise and mystery to descend; then the cold spring drips drop by drop, passes the throat and reaches the spirit-light, crosses Huagai (the throat and nape) cool and clear, enters the deep abyss (lower dantian) with a chill clarity, washing heart and rinsing thought—then one sees the true form of quiet simplicity and freedom from desire: this is called returning the elixir (huandan). Once huandan is achieved, one may speak of long life.

Before the golden elixir is returned, below is the Flower Pool, called the Qi Sea; kidney essence is stirred here. I establish the Bright Hall to contemplate and shine upon the dantian—this place is like the office of the general, who governs planning and deliberation. The general’s intent is to make the spirits open the Life Gate, unblock the Way of heaven down to the Spirit Root, array yin and yang, swift as a shooting star.

Chapter 21

The lungs govern qi; they rise together with the qi of the Triple Burner (Sanjiao). Qi rests at the “Heavenly Gate” (Tianmen)—a passage upward, often linked to nasal breath and the head and face—and waits to move along the body’s familiar pathways. The lungs are the “minister who assists and transmits” (xiangfu zhi guan); in the person they preside over deliberation and the regulation of breath, and at this stage they are exactly what should be put to use.

There is also a “General” aspect (often the liver spirit or the power that commands the spirits). The aim is for the spirits to open the Gate of Life (Mingmen), a vital point in the lower burner, so that the qi of Heaven’s Way runs clear and reaches the Spirit Root (linggen), the root of essential qi. Yin and yang qi spread through the body; their circulation is as swift as a shooting star.

The lungs govern qi; the qi of the Triple Burner stirs in turn. Qi rests at the Heavenly Gate and follows the old path. Clear fluid and sweet spring (qingye, liquan—the saliva in the mouth) moisten and ease the six fu organs. With the rise and fall of nasal breath, both ears sense whether passage is open or blocked. Inwardly one views heaven and earth and preserves the “Genuine Child” (tongzi—the spirit of the primordial self). Essence is harmonized; hair and teeth are moistened. The complexion is bright without relying on external drugs. Saliva descends to the throat and flows in steady drops.

The spirits gather and respond to one another. Below is the Crimson Palace (jiangong, the heart palace), where purple radiance spreads. Within the Canopy (huagai—the upper aperture and crown image) lies what is hidden, connecting to the Spirit Dwelling (shenlu, where the spirit abides). Fix the mind-spirit and let inner and outer answer each other. Contemplate your own spirits and ward off deviant influences. The spleen spirit returns and rests with the “Great House” (yijia—the sovereign of the whole body, often the dantian or the center).

As for the stomach conduit, it opens into emptiness; it stores and nourishes the Spirit Root so it no longer withers. Close and guard the Gate of Life as one would a jade capital; life may be handed down for ten thousand years and more.

The meaning of the opening sentence is explained in the book’s own inner notes. To regulate and nourish lung qi, you must first settle quietly at the Heavenly Gate (Tianmen—the pass at the root of the nose, between the eyebrows, or the crown where qi enters and leaves), and wait until qi moves along its usual path in and out. When qi turns into water, clear fluid and spring-like jing (essence) moisten the six fu organs.

This qi rises and falls through the nose; the Magpie Bridge (Queqiao—the upper and lower bridges, often the link between the Conception and Governing vessels or between mouth and nose) connects them: going up it is qi, going down it is fluid. In the empty stillness, if you hear something like a flowing spring, the one who knows does so through the two ears—inner hearing, inner sensing. With the work of inner illumination, you also see the ascent and descent of heaven and earth—the Yin-Yang within the body—and you store and nurture the White Essence Youth (Baiyuan Tongzi, the inner image tied to the lung, metal, and white qi), so that it assists and harmonizes the six qi, adjusts the refined essence of the whole body, moistens hair and teeth, and gives the face a bright luster—without having to rely on taking medicine.

When saliva is swallowed, there is a gentle sound in the throat like scattered rain; the spirits call to one another, and every organ receives its sweetness. Below lies the Crimson Palace (Jianggong—the heart region, often around the chest center); following each drop, purple splendor spreads, hidden beneath the Flowery Canopy (Huagai—the image of the lung, the canopy above), and opening toward the dwelling of spirit illumination (the heart, where shen (spirit) abides). Heart and spirit are two names for one thing: you must single-mindedly guard heart and spirit, heart summoning spirit and spirit summoning heart—now in the heart, now in the spleen—so that spirit is everywhere clear and never dim. When you observe this spirit illumination within, it truly can ward off all evil and harm.

In the spleen it is the spleen spirit; wherever it goes, it is like coming home, always making the spleen its dwelling. When it reaches the space between the stomach and the gullet, it opens downward into the realm of emptiness and there stores and nurtures the Spiritual Root (Linggen), so it does not wither again—all of this depends on lung qi watering and nourishing it. Yet in such storage and nurturing, you must seal the Life Gate (Mingmen—guarding jing, not leaking it recklessly), keep it pure as the Jade Capital (Yudu—the inner realm of jade fluid and clarity), without a speck of dust, with every care emptied out; then the Spiritual Root grows firm, life can be handed down for ten thousand years, and you will have more than enough, never less.

Main meaning of the passage

The spirit of the spleen holds the central position. It gathers the spirits of the Five Phases (Wuxing) and harmonizes with the three luminaries—the sun, the moon, and the stars. Above, it aligns with the yin and yang at the Heaven Gate (Tianmen) and with the Gu Dao (the ancient path), meeting in the “Mingtang” of the central void. It keeps the six fu organs open and flowing and balances the Five Phases—metal, wood, water, and fire all under the governance of earth. Within the body, sun, moon, and the lodges of the stars spread yin and yang. It opens the channels of blood, turns sweat into nourishing essence-fluid, guards the heart that rules the seven orifices, and clears away inauspicious thoughts. The spleen spirit and the heart spirit unite as one: jade fluid descends to nourish the heart, and within earth the Huangya (Yellow Sprout) also arises. Upward it receives primordial qi (yuanqi); with qi one nurtures spirit (shen)—when qi is full, spirit is whole, and one’s years accordingly increase.

Notes line by line (following the traditional commentary)

Because the spleen belongs to earth, the spleen spirit occupies the sovereign place at the center. “Gathering the five spirits in audience” means concentrating the qi of the Five Phases in one place; “harmonizing the three luminaries” means turning the celestial signs of the Dipper, sun, and moon within the body.

“Above, uniting with the Heaven Gate and meeting at the Mingtang” ties back to the methods of earlier chapters: awaiting the way of heaven at the Mysterious Gate is the work of the spleen spirit; awaiting yin and yang and the Gu Dao at the Heaven Gate is likewise the spleen spirit’s role. Here “Mingtang” is not the Mingtang palace between the eyebrows, nor the Jiang palace (crimson palace)—it is the place of central emptiness.

“Opening and benefiting the six fu” and “regulating the Five Phases” mean that earth presides over metal, wood, water, and fire. “Sun, moon, and the lodges spreading yin and yang” is apportioned under the spleen spirit’s charge. Because the spleen spirit stands at the center, it can open the blood vessels, transform sweat into essence-fluid, restore the seven orifices, and dispel the inauspicious—for intention arises from the heart, and all of this depends on the spleen spirit establishing the center.

“The two spirits” means the spleen spirit and the heart spirit; “mutually obtaining each other” means they were originally one, not two separate entities. “Jade essence descending” is jade fluid irrigating the heart, while within earth the Yellow Sprout also grows. “Upward, receiving primordial qi” is using qi to replenish spirit—spirit relies on qi to be complete; when qi is sufficient, spirit is fulfilled, and length of years increases.

Among the five viscera of the human body, the kidneys are honored as the sovereign; they belong to Taiyin (the watery, yin aspect) and store true Jing within. Essence moves through the upper and lower orifices and unites with the Huangting (the central palace, the key locus for mind-abiding); by regulating the breath with the thought of emptiness and non-being, one can see one’s own form in inner contemplation.

Thus bones and sinews are strengthened and blood and vessels flourish; in the trance of stillness, spirit-consciousness connects with clarity and spirit. Seated at ease in the Lu between (the chest and central palace region), one inwardly beholds the little child (the inner infant, a figure for the true spirit); through internal breath and visualization, the light of spirit and clarity appears. Qi exits through the Heavenly Gate and enters the seamless (the subtle realm without gap); with calm detachment and few desires, one nourishes the root of life. By taking in primordial Qi (Xuan Qi), one may seek long life; passing again through the seven gates and drinking from the Great Abyss (deep spring, image of the sea of qi), one penetrates the mysterious chest, crosses clarity and spirit, and still sits in the Lu between beholding the little child.

If one asks about the immortal path and wondrous formulas: one may ingest spirit herbs and Purple Flower Essence (images of sacred plants and refined essence); wear white simplicity (the image of purity and holding to unity) upon the head, and fix the mind on the Dantian; bathe in the Flower Pool (saliva in the mouth, the inner pool of the landscape) to irrigate the spirit root. When the five viscera are in harmony, the Life Gate opens; the five flavors (or the five qi, the breath of the five stores) return to their proper course, and the supreme good qi flows back into the body. With hair loose, walking in this practice and guarding this method, one may long endure in the Dao.

Note (same theme in the Outer Scene chapter): The Outer Scene section also places the kidneys last among the five viscera yet gathers all into one; it likewise mentions Purple Flower Essence, wearing white simplicity while guarding the Dantian, bathing the Flower Pool to irrigate the spirit root, the five viscera mutually accorded so the Life Gate opens, the five flavors and supreme good qi returning, and going forth with loose hair to long endure—lines that match the inner-refinement sequence above and may be read together.

In the External Scene, the kidneys are placed last among the five viscera, yet everything ultimately returns to “the One.” The One belongs to Water and is overseen by the kidneys, so among the five viscera the kidneys hold the highest place. Taiyin corresponds to the lungs; what lies hidden within Taiyin is true Metal generating true Water, and true Water in turn holding true Metal. The so-called two orifices of exit and entry are the gates of Qian and Kun and the doorway of Yin and Yang. One Metal and one Water, coming and going in turn—within this is what is called the Huangting (Yellow Court), the place where Metal and Water are stored and where exit and entry meet and unite. The center is emptiness; emptiness is non-being. By guarding the center through breathing, one takes Heaven and Earth as the bellows: lively and undifferentiated, hidden and enduring, fused into one whole—round and complete, bright and radiant. When qi is full and spirit is full, the true form can appear. After that, sinews and bones grow strong and blood and vessels fill; in a trance-like state one’s own form vanishes, passes through the realm of Pure Spirit, and ascends to the middle elixir—here is the abode of spirit and clarity. Seated below this abode, one may see a small child whose appearance resembles oneself, but one need not heed it; only guard the inner breath, hold it in thought and keep it present, and then the light of Heaven opens in wisdom and spirit grows day by day. From here shift spirit to the upper elixir, emerge above the Heavenly Gate, and merge with the single breath of Qian and Kun—vast and boundless, clear and empty. It is I yet not I, emptiness yet not emptiness; harmonize with the Dao through Heaven, enter the seamless, remain plain and desireless, and nourish the flower root. The flower root is the seed of immortality; immortals can abstain from grain and live only on the qi of the Mysterious Gate, and thus attain long life without death. To ingest this mysterious qi, one must also tune spirit inward, return through the seven gates, and daily drink from the Great Abyss. On the return, take the path through the Mysterious Chest, pass by Pure Spirit, and again sit within the abode; one sees that small child ask what extraordinary method there is for cultivating immortality. I answer: there is nothing else extraordinary—only be able to ingest the essence of the purple bloom of the immortality herb, wear a white headcloth, set the feet anchored at the Dantian (energy center), bathe in the Flower Pool, irrigate the spiritual root, let the five viscera harmonize and a single breath rush into unity, open the Life Gate, let the elixir light leave the cauldron, let all five flavors arrive and good qi return to the body. Practice accordingly step by step: obtaining the medicine, laying the foundation, refining the self, returning the elixir, paying homage at the origin, returning to the root, restoring goodness to the beginning—all are contained in these few phrases. This is the extraordinary method of the immortal way; by it one may endure long.

Chapter 24 of Yuanqiao Neipian (Inner Chapters of the Round Peak)

Laozi closes here with two lines to encourage those who come after: what has been said above is the Great Dao—vast and open, utmost broad and upright, with no crooked paths or side roads. Practitioners should not hunt for detours in a mind tangled and overcomplicated.

My words end here. Do not casually expound the scripture’s meaning to unsuitable listeners, lest you bring guilt upon yourself; cherish it and keep it in the heart.

Commentary on the Scripture of Clarity and Stillness

The Old Lord said: The Great Dao is formless, yet it begets heaven and earth—from Wuji (the Limitless) to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate).

The Great Dao is without partial affection, yet it turns sun and moon—Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing is left undone.

The Great Dao is nameless, yet it nourishes the ten thousand things—from no-thing, things with form arise.

I do not know its original name; I call it “Dao” (the Way) for lack of a better word.

“Dao” placed first means it runs and transforms before heaven and earth. Though the name is forced, in truth it is utterly natural.

The Dao has clarity and turbidity, movement and stillness: heaven clear, earth turbid; heaven in motion, earth at rest; the male clear, the female turbid; the male active, the female still. Clarity and movement are root; turbidity and stillness are branch—one descends, one flows, one gives, one receives. Clarity and turbidity unite, movement and stillness interweave, and the ten thousand things are thus born.

Clarity is the source of turbidity—from nothing, something comes to be.

Movement is the foundation of stillness—from something, one returns to nothing.

If a person can constantly preserve clarity and stillness, the qi of heaven and earth all merge into one body—heaven clear, earth still, together returning into the void.

Human Shen (spirit) by nature loves clarity, yet is disturbed by the heart-mind—what disturbs Shen is the delusive heart-mind.

The human heart-mind by nature loves stillness, yet is dragged by desire—to gain stillness, one must first let go of outer affairs; to still the heart-mind, one must first dispel desire.

First let the heart grow clear and pure, and spirit will naturally become bright and lucid.

What “clarifying the heart” means is xixin tuicang—washing the heart clean and turning inward to guard it. When the heart is like still water, unmoving, awareness naturally clears.

Then the six desires would not arise in the first place, and one would not be dragged about by craving.

If you want true stillness, first set aside outer affairs; to still the heart, you must first dispel desire.

First let the heart grow clear and pure, and spirit will naturally become bright and lucid. Clarifying the heart is xixin tuicang: when the heart is like still water, spirit clears on its own.

The six desires naturally do not arise—without eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, there is no clinging to form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects (the six sense-fields).

Thus the three poisons are extinguished.

The three poisons mean yin spirit harming one’s original nature, yin essence harming one’s lifespan, and yin qi injuring the five viscera—in other words, the three corpses (sanshi). The three corpses are “yin thieves” within the body; some call them the three Peng or the three Gu—alternate names only; do not cling to the labels.

Why people fail is that the heart is not yet clear and desire is not yet dispelled.

Spirit cannot clear chiefly because wandering desire cannot be let go.

The way to dispel desire: look inward at the heart and see that there is no fixed, real “heart”—understand that the “three hearts” cannot be grasped.

Look outward at the body and see that the body has no solid “form”; look further at outer things and see that things have no solid “thing”—know that the “four marks” are all forgotten.

Once heart, form, and thing are seen through, one sees only emptiness.

This is turning the light back and entering emptiness.

The emptiness that is observed is also empty—emptiness until there is nothing left “to empty.”

Contemplate emptiness until you reach the state of “no thing”; only then is emptiness vast. If you still hold to an “emptiness,” it is not true emptiness.

When what was to be emptied is gone, even “nothing” is gone.

After reaching “no thing,” the thought “emptiness” is empty too; if “emptiness” remains, you cannot reach “nothing.” Nothing upon nothing—even “nothing” is not established.

When even “no nothing” is gone, you are deep and always still.

All phenomena are empty.

Stillness upon stillness—with nothing left to still, how could desire arise?

Stillness upon stillness again—what worry, what thought, could remain?

Plain-Language Reading of Yuanqiao Neipian (Inner Chapters of the Round Peak)

When desire no longer arises, that is true stillness. Stillness here is not forcing yourself to stay motionless, but no longer being dragged about by wanting and craving.

That is why this stillness must begin by releasing desire—not by crushing it down, but by letting desires stop churning up on their own.

True constancy responds to things; in responding, true constancy can abide. “True constancy” means the originally unchanged, genuinely ever-present side of heart-nature. It can meet the outer world as usual and not get lost in doing so; when you are not lost, your true nature can settle and stay put.

When true stillness becomes your ordinary state, it is called true constancy. The master also said: “True constancy can respond to things; in responding, you do not lose yourself; when you are not lost, nature abides on its own.” That matches the lines above: you engage affairs and still keep a clear mind, and true nature naturally stays at rest.

Responding constantly yet staying constantly still—that is lasting clarity and stillness.

Dingguan (Fixed Contemplation) says: “Whether there is business or none, be as if without a selfish, cluttered mind. In quiet or in clamor, let your aim be one.” Whether things are busy or idle, be as if free of private, wandering thoughts; in silence or in noise, keep a single purpose and do not be carried off by the setting.

With this kind of clarity and stillness, you gradually enter the true Dao. Having entered the true Dao, it is called attaining the Dao.

When a person has no delusive mind, the true mind appears.

Though it is named attaining the Dao, in fact nothing is gained. The name says “attainment,” but you do not acquire something extra from outside—the Dao was already there; it is not something picked up elsewhere.

Use it like an empty vessel—open and responsive—without self-satisfaction or pretense.

It is called attaining the Dao for the sake of transforming sentient beings—the label serves teaching, not a trophy.

Turning from delusion back to truth, one may be called a person of the Dao.

Whoever truly awakens to this may transmit the sagely Dao.

Once xinggong (work on inner nature—insight and return to the root) is awakened, minggong (work on the life-basis and practice stages) may then be passed on.

Someone asked: “Above it says there is nothing gained, yet here it says the sagely Dao can be transmitted—has the Qingjing Jing (Scripture on Clarity and Stillness) still not spoken of the Dao?” Hanxu (the commentator) answered: No. You have read “nothing gained” wrongly—that passage is the inward look after entering the Dao, pointing out what was always present and need not be sought outside; it does not mean the Dao is unreal or cannot be transmitted.

Lord Lao said: With deep care in the heart, his words are weighty; therefore he opens the teaching again.

The superior person does not contend; the inferior person loves contention. Superior De (Virtue/Power) does not parade De; inferior De clutches at De. Whoever clings in this way cannot be called truly moral in the sense of Dao and De.

Without contention, there is little desire. Loving contention, there is much desire.

Not performing De, one has De. Clutching at De, one has no De.

Without utmost De, utmost Dao will not gather and settle in you.

One who clutches at De does not expand the heart—how could such a one embody vast, empty, spirited De to match the equally vast, empty, spirited Dao?

Inner Chapter of Yuan Qiao (Main Text)

Living beings fail to attain the true Dao because restless, deluded thoughts stir in the mind. When the false mind arises, it disturbs the inherent true spirit (zhen shen); when true spirit is disturbed, one clings to external things; clinging to externals breeds craving; craving is affliction. Affliction and deluded thinking together wear down body and mind, so one meets defilement and humiliation, turns in the cycle of birth and death, sinks long in the sea of suffering, and forever loses the true Dao.

Inner Chapter of Yuan Qiao (Commentary)

This section uses negative language to deepen the earlier point that only purity and stillness lead into the true Dao. Pity that with an unstill, deluded heart one startles the utterly pure true spirit. Clinging to things and deluded thoughts flying about—mind cannot be still, and true spirit is instead veiled by the false mind; how then can one attain the Dao?

The way of true constancy is something those who awaken can directly know; those who have attained the Dao dwell constantly in purity and stillness.

Those who awaken to the Dao never stray from the word “purity and stillness”; the method of purity and stillness never strays from “relinquishing desires.” Relinquishing desire is the crux of this chapter. Moreover, when the mind is still, the fire of desire and agitation naturally subsides; when spirit is clear, qi becomes refined. Wisdom arises in concentration (ding); the root life-force (ben ming) naturally returns; and there is also that subtle efficacy that comes of itself, beyond what one can explain.

Approximate Explication of the Jade Pivot Scripture (Commentary by Xuanyì Hanxuzi)

“When it operates from the center, it is called the pivot (shu).” Among the seven stars of the Northern Dipper (Beidou), one is called Tian Shu—the name suggests turning from the center. In the human body, spirit (shen) is the pivot; spirit is unstained by dust, clear and bright as jade—hence “Jade Pivot (yu shu).” The gist of this scripture is to teach one to refine and nurture the original spirit (yuan shen).

The Celestial Worthy said to the assembled celestials and humans: You wish to hear about the Supreme Way. The Supreme Way is profound and hidden; it is not found anywhere else. Since you wish to hear, in truth “not hearing” is the right path—neither hearing nor seeing is the true Way; when even the thoughts of “hearing” and “seeing” are extinguished, only you yourselves remain—and you yourselves can hardly be called “truly existent,” so how much less what is heard or seen? What is called “hearing without hearing”—what Way is there left to speak of?

(Note: Clear as snow and ice; no need for lengthy explanation. The “this” in “how much less this” refers to hearing and seeing.)

The Celestial Worthy also said: Cultivating the Way requires entering with sincerity, guarding in silence, and applying with softness. Sincerity looks like foolishness, silence like dullness, softness like clumsiness. Only when you reach this can you become one with the Way and forget the body—and even forget “forgetting.”

(Note: All of the above is work within emptiness and non-being.)

Those who enter the Way know stopping; those who guard the Way know caution; those who apply the Way know subtlety. Knowing subtlety, the light of wisdom arises; knowing caution, sagely wisdom is complete; knowing stopping, great stillness and peace are settled. When great stillness and peace are settled, sagely wisdom is complete; when sagely wisdom is complete, the light of wisdom arises; when the light of wisdom arises, one becomes one with the Way—this is called true forgetting. Forgetting yet not forgetting, forgetting until there is nothing left to forget—the very “nothing left to forget” is the Supreme Way. The Way is within heaven and earth, yet heaven and earth do not know themselves; whether sentient or insentient, in their fundamental nature there is only this one, not two.

In summary: One must be able to enter and also to guard, able to guard and also to apply. Knowing stopping, the mind does not wander in disorder. Forgetting yet not forgetting, forgetting until there is nothing to forget—what cannot be forgotten is the Supreme Way. The Way pervades heaven and earth, yet heaven and earth are unaware; sentient and insentient, at the source there is only one, not two.

I. Keeping, Applying, and True Forgetting

One must not only be able to “enter the Dao” but also to “keep to the Dao”; and once one has kept to it, one must also be able to “apply the Dao”—putting what one has attained into everyday life. When you know where to stop and what is enough, the mind will not drift and scatter; when you know how to hold yourself with caution, you will not overstep or act recklessly; when you can discern what is subtle, you can penetrate the remote, dark, and hidden realm.

From that hidden obscurity arises indistinctness; spiritual awareness appears there—that is the light of wisdom. Without chasing outward, the spirit is at peace; without restless shifting, the qi settles and stills. When qi is still, the spirit is secure; when the spirit is secure, within vast emptiness a single numinous presence turns and operates. At that point one only feels that “the Dao” is present and no longer clings to anything else—this is called “true forgetting.” True forgetting is not muddle or confusion; it is forgetting until there is nothing left that still needs to be forgotten—true forgetting is the Dao at its utmost.

II. The Celestial Worthy Teaches (meaning of the Scripture on Protecting Life)

The Celestial Worthy said: In this age, how shall I benefit living beings? For the hosts of heaven and for humanity I proclaim this wondrous treasure; those who awaken to it may ascend the ranks of immortals. Among those who study the Dao, there is indeed a distinction between “qi” and “number”: different winds and soils, different endowments—this is called “qi”; different wisdom and foolishness, clarity and turbidity—this is called “number.” Number is tied to fate; qi is tied to Heaven. People are often bound by qi and number, fettered by the mandate of Heaven, and so find it hard to awaken to the true Dao. Yet the foolish can turn toward wisdom, the turbid toward clarity—still, one must rely on fate and on affinity. The foolish sink in dullness, the turbid in darkness; they too are shaped by the endowment of wind and soil and by migration and change.

Heaven and earth secretly turn their mechanism so that people do not know it; people then call it “spontaneity” (ziran). Even when they know that “in truth they do not know,” they still call it “spontaneity.” The subtlety of spontaneity may show its wonder within “knowing,” yet what makes it wonderful originally comes from “not knowing.” As for the Dao itself, it does not first fix itself in labels like “foolish” or “turbid.”

When the hosts of heaven had heard this, the fourfold assembly all rejoiced.

Brief notes on terms

• Celestial Worthy (Tianzun): A honorific title in Daoism for a high deity; here, the one who speaks.
• Hosts of heaven, fourfold assembly: The deities of the heavens and the full audience (gods, humans, and other classes of listeners).
• Qi and number: Here, regional endowment (qi) and the division of wisdom and foolishness, clarity and turbidity, and allotted fate (number)—together, “qi and number.”
• True forgetting: Not forgetting to practice, but the mind not dwelling on external things, united only with the Dao.
• Scripture on Protecting Life (Huming Jing): One of the Daoist classics; the closing note “approximate explication” indicates this passage summarizes the gist of that scripture.

Plain-Language Reading of The Inner Chapter of Round Mount

Section One

At that time Yuanshi Tianzun, in the Wuming Palace within the Grove of Seven Treasures, together with countless sages sent forth measureless light that shone through measureless worlds. They contemplated the boundless suffering of measureless beings: turning on the wheel of birth and death in the world, adrift on the river of craving, blown by the winds of the sea of desire, drowning in sound and form, lost between “being” and “non-being”—speaking of non-being yet clinging to being, speaking of non-being yet clinging to form; clinging to non-being within non-being and to being within being, always dim, unable to see for themselves, and at last stuck in delusion.

Section Two

“Without beginning” (wuji) refers to the ancestral Qi—the primordial breath before heaven and earth were divided. When ancestral Qi generates and transforms, the true spirit appears; this spirit rests in the heart of heaven, within the yellow palace (the central palace). When the one spirit holds its proper place, the myriad spirits come to pay homage. If this is not so, beings of the ultimate limit are nothing but a stream of the observing spirit (the discriminating, grasping mind), subject to endless pain. Those beings are all caught in fixation: clinging to emptiness is wrong, clinging to form is wrong, clinging to being within non-being is wrong, and clinging to non-being within being is also wrong. They truly deserve compassion.

Section Three

The Celestial Worthy said: “You beings should never, within ‘being,’ grasp another ‘being’; never, within ‘non-being,’ grasp another ‘non-being’; never, within ‘form,’ grasp another ‘form’; never, within ‘emptiness,’ grasp another ‘emptiness.’ Do not treat active, contrived dharmas as a solid ‘being’; do not treat the way of Wuwei (non-action) as a solid ‘non-being’; do not treat form as fixed, dead form; do not treat emptiness as fixed, dead emptiness. Emptiness is emptiness—it has no fixed mark of emptiness; form is form—it has no fixed mark of form. Form is emptiness; emptiness is form. If you can know emptiness without falling into the view of emptiness, know form without falling into attachment to form, this is called clear illumination, and only then can you penetrate the subtle teaching. Recognize the method of ‘emptiness that is not empty,’ see through without obstruction, enter the gate of manifold subtleties, naturally awaken and understanding, and break free of every net of doubt, without sticking to the view of emptiness.”

Section Four

This section breaks open for beings their confusion about emptiness, form, being, and non-being; when beings gain some awakening, they can leave all such delusion behind.

Excerpt from Yuánqiào Nèi Piān (Inner Chapters of Round Peak)

Paraphrase of the original: When the six roots—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are purified, and obstacles from deviant forces are cut off, I will expound for you this wondrous scripture called Hùmìng (Protecting Life). It can deliver beings and spread the teaching in the world; wherever it is circulated and recited, flying heavenly kings, vajra warriors who break evil, dharma-protecting spirit youths, saviors from suffering, golden-eyed fierce guardians, and others—each numbering in the hundreds of billions—together uphold this scripture, attend each person’s offering, ward off danger and support the failing, and ferry all beings away from every defilement.

Commentary: This passage turns on the word “purification.” Only when the six roots are pure can one obtain this treasure that protects life and leave all distress behind.

Original text: At that time the Celestial Worthy (Tianzun) spoke in verse: “Looking, you do not see me; listening, you do not hear me. Leaving every kind of extreme, this is called the wonderful Dao.”

Commentary: Not seeing me and not hearing me means no clinging to “I.” Every kind of one-sided view and barrier arises from “I”; without self, all one-sided appearances are left behind. Confucius spoke of having no arbitrary intent, no rigidity, no obstinacy, and finally of being without self—without self, intent, rigidity, and obstinacy all cease. This follows the same thread.

Approximate Commentary on the Rìyòng Jīng (Daily Use Scripture)

Daily use means practice that not for a single moment of the twelve double-hours may be abandoned; where there is practice there is verification, and it must always be sought in purity of body and mind.

The scripture twice says “throughout the twelve double-hours, constantly recite purity,” and at the end again “throughout the twelve double-hours, always keep purity”—the Supreme Lord’s most essential admonition, hence the repetition. In the twelve double-hours, purity is the work; purity is the root of daily practice. The scripture’s meaning is clear and needs no lengthy gloss. Respectfully noted by Xuányì Xīyuè.

Section 1 (Daily practice and the first steps)

In daily cultivation, begin by settling diet and daily routine. Sit upright with mouth closed and do not raise stray thoughts; put external things aside and only preserve spirit (Shen) and fix intention (Yi). Do not look at objects with the eyes or listen to sounds with the ears—turn the heart inward and guard within. Regulate the breath so it is fine and long; gradually exhale without breaking it, as if present yet absent. Thus heart-fire naturally descends, kidney-water naturally rises, the mouth produces fluid, numinous truth attaches to the body, and one enters the path of long life.

What opens the text is the work of entering the gate.

Section 2 (Purity through the twelve double-hours and signs of effect)

Through the twelve double-hours of the day, constantly hold the word “purity and clarity” in mind. Not raising a single thought is called “qing” (clear); the spirit platform free of defilement is called “jing” (pure). The body is the dwelling of Qi; the heart is the abode of Shen. Where intention goes, Shen moves; when Shen moves, Qi scatters. Only when Shen can gather can the true Qi of the Five Phases (Wuxing) coalesce into “daogui” (the knife-handle—an image for the inner elixir), and only then is there “a body within the body”; harmonizing Qi penetrates the crown like ghee poured over the head. In walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one often feels the body as if wind were passing through it, the belly as if thunder were rumbling, the ears as if hearing immortal music without strings—sound without opening the mouth, resonance without striking a drum. Spirit and Qi unite like an infant turning back; one can view the inner landscape, even speak to oneself, and see images of emptiness, dwelling with sages. Spirit can enter and leave of itself; one shares longevity with Heaven and Earth and escapes birth and death.

The two lines on the “twelve double-hours” mean that when body and mind are pure upon entering the chamber, verifying signs appear of themselves; what follows is all contained in those two lines.

Section 3 (Do not allow loss)

Do not let yourself suffer loss. Through the twelve double-hours, always maintain purity and clarity. Shen is the child of Qi; Qi is the mother of Shen. Like a hen brooding an egg—preserving Shen and nourishing Qi—can you leave them? Wonderful! Wonderful!

The “twelve double-hours” lines are stressed again for the phase of nourishing the elixir; read the four characters “do not allow loss” and the meaning is clear.

Brief commentary on the Das Tong Jing

Annotated by Hanxu zi.

Great Penetration (Datong)

“Great penetration” means vast, unblocked reach and circulation everywhere without hindrance. In the scripture, being without form, without body, without image, without distinguishing marks, and wuwei (non-action) all describe something so “great” that it leaves no fixed trace, and so “penetrating” that nothing blocks it—not a special power in one place, but a whole way of being aligned with the Dao as such.

Ultimate Vacuity

It is there before heaven and earth, yet when it comes forth nothing visible appears; it remains after heaven and earth, yet in its presence nothing can be grasped as a body. “Without body” does not mean something is secretly stored away, which is why the text also says it is “never truly held in place”—not that it is absent, but that it cannot be caught by ordinary ideas of existence, non-existence, presence, or disappearance. The scripture therefore calls it “beyond conception”: not to tell readers to stop thinking, but to say its subtle working is inexhaustible and goes beyond what concepts can exhaust.

Pre-heaven primordial qi (xiantian yiqi) has no nameable “stuff”; post-heaven shen (spirit) has no fixed “whereabouts.” Shen may have no fixed place, yet its transformations still follow an order, so it is still said to be “never truly held in place”; “beyond conception” points exactly to this working that cannot be fully put into words.

Arcane Principle

In stillness, what acts is xing (nature), and the heart-mind rests in that nature. In movement, what acts is the heart-mind, and nature is still present in the heart-mind. When the heart-mind moves with a thought, nature is covered by that thought; when the heart-mind settles, nature naturally shows itself. The substance of nature is originally empty, like open space in which no fixed “image” is hung, so it is called limpid and complete—not a completeness added from outside, but how things are from the start.

Arcane Subtlety

In stillness, nature is primary and the heart-mind is within it: outer entanglements are let go, nature settles, and the heart-mind settles. In movement, the heart-mind is primary and nature is also within it: in that single awakened awareness, the heart-mind sees and nature sees as well. Ordinary people “do not see nature” because of the deluded heart-mind; when delusion arises, nature is hidden; when delusion does not arise, nature appears—not because nature goes somewhere else, but because its substance is originally empty and is obscured by the play of thoughts. Like emptiness without image, the substance of nature is limpid, neither increased nor diminished.

Excerpt from Yuanqiao Neipian (Inner Chapters of the Round Peak)

The Great Dao has no fixed form, so it can inwardly embrace all that is “existent.” True nature is originally Wuwei (non-action), so outwardly it does not raise a separate discriminating mind. Thus-as-it-is and natural, vast without boundary. Facing outer conditions yet able to forget conditions—one does not sink under the disturbances of the six thieves (liu zei: the faculties of eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind); dwelling amid worldly toil yet able to leave toil behind—one does not fall into the turning of myriad causal ties. Then stillness without stirring, harmony without shifting; wisdom-light illumines the ten directions, empty and penetrating in transformation, yet still Wuwei.

Verse: In the Dharma, awaken to “no Dharma”; in the place of no cultivation, understand that there is cultivation. The body that embraces the ten thousand images yet hangs on not a single thread.

Condensed Explanation

Without form there is no “existent”; inwardly embracing the existent still returns to the way of no-form.

Without form, nothing “existent” can be grasped; inwardly embracing all appearance is still a return to the way of no-form.

Wuwei then has no [outward] mind; not giving rise to mind outwardly is to revert to the nature of Wuwei.

In Wuwei one no longer attaches mind to outer causes; when mind does not run outward, that is restoring the nature of Wuwei.

Embracing the existent and returning to non-existence is no-form; gathering mind and returning to nature is Wuwei.

Taking “existent” back into “non-existence” is no-form; recalling mind and restoring true nature is Wuwei.

No-form and Wuwei—then there is no boundary.

With neither form nor deliberate action, vastness has no edge.

Hence, though one meets conditions and dwells in dust, it may seem as if there is form and action; yet without sinking or clinging, one still knows no-form and Wuwei.

So even while facing conditions and living in the world, there may seem to be form and doing; as long as one neither drowns nor attaches, inwardly it remains no-form and Wuwei.

The six thieves and myriad conditions—what is worth hanging on the heart?

The six thieves and ten thousand ties are not worth a place in the heart.

Stillness without movement is ding (concentration); harmony without shifting is an (peace).

Quiet and unmoving is concentration; harmonious and unchanging is peace.

Wisdom-light shines, empty transformation—then Yuanshen (original spirit) moves well. In essence: no-form and Wuwei.

When wisdom-light illumines and emptiness transforms freely, Yuanshen can operate naturally. In short, the pivot is no-form and Wuwei.

Chiwen Donggu Jing · Chapter on Holding the Real

“You dong zhi dong, chu yu bu dong. You wei zhi wei, chu yu wu wei.”

(“Movement within movement comes from non-movement. Action within action comes from Wuwei.”)

“You dong zhi dong” is the movement of Yang Qi (vital Yang energy).

It arises from stillness; hence “comes from non-movement.”

“You wei zhi wei” is return [in practice].

It is carried out in purity and clarity; hence “comes from Wuwei.”

Wuwei then spirit returns; when spirit returns, the ten thousand things are still. Non-movement then Qi (vital energy) is extinguished [into unity]; when Qi is extinguished, the ten thousand things are born.

In Wuwei, spirit returns to its place; when spirit returns, all phenomena settle into stillness. In non-movement, Qi merges into silence; when Qi merges, the ten thousand things can arise.

Yuan Qiao Inner Chapters — Plain-Language Commentary

(Opening)

When you practice Wuwei (non-action)—not acting rashly or forcing outcomes—Shen (spirit) turns inward and returns to the root; for the spiritual nature naturally delights in qing (clarity and stillness). Once Shen settles in its place, outer things appear quiet; when the mind is clear, the realm is pure. If the mind does not stir, Qi (vital energy) becomes utterly undisturbed; when Qi moves in hai (the last of the twelve double-hours, symbolizing return to root and storage), it draws near zi (where the one Yang line is born). This means: at the utmost stillness Qi returns to the root, and within that return fresh life stirs.

Spirit keeps company with spirit; things support one another—all of this rests on returning to the root (fanben huanyuan, returning to the source).

“Keeping company” is joining the formless with the formless; “mutual support” is returning the manifest to the manifest. Thus houtian (post-heaven form, breath, and discriminating mind) turns back to xiantian (pre-heaven primordial Qi and original Shen), and the foundation becomes firm.

In silent realization you know yourself by yourself, and you can enter the realm without gaps.

“Silent awakening” is the hazy shimmer arising in deep obscurity; “I know myself” is the one spirit aware alone. Thus you penetrate the mysterious and pass through without obstruction.

Neither dying nor being born, one with Heaven and Earth—the essential method of holding to the true Dao (shouyi, holding the One; returning to the root) lies here.

Chapter on Entering Sagehood

Forget using the eyes to look, and the light of wisdom fills the boundless; forget using the ears to listen, and knowing mind stays like an abyss. When both “mechanisms” of eye and ear are forgotten, you enter the gate that surpasses all subtleties.

When the eye-mechanism is still, the light of wisdom appears of itself; when the ear-mechanism is still, the ground of mind is clear. Wuyu guanmiao (observing the subtle without desire)—it is exactly then. Having grasped this one subtlety, you are empty and yet beyond all subtleties.

Wholly pure, wholly complete, you accord with the Great Square; vast and dim, you accord with what has no peer. Though Heaven and Earth are vast, they are upheld by me; though the ten thousand things are many, they are held by me. The Dao has no end—how could words exhaust its “defects”?

That which Lao Zi calls “a thing blended and complete, existing before Heaven and Earth” is without fixed form in its greatness, without equal in its height. Heaven, Earth, and the ten thousand things are all sustained by me. Even the most eloquent cannot fully trace its limits, for it is endless. Only what has an end in the world has “defects” that can be spoken of; the Dao, having no end, has no defect to name.

Chapter on Abiding in the World

(This section title stands alone in the source; if the main text continues in a later fascicle or elsewhere, one line on the title alone suffices:) Abiding in the world means living among people without being turned by the world—holding the true and keeping the One, continuing from “entering sagehood,” never leaving daily use while still returning to the root.

Continuation of Yuanqiao Neipian (Inner Chapter of the Round Peak)

Nurture the side that “has no image,” and images can endure; hold fast to the side that “has no fixed form,” and the body can merge with complete authenticity. Complete authenticity and (the imageless, formless) mutually complete one another, and a person can last long. Heaven, gaining the genuine, therefore endures; earth, gaining the genuine, therefore lasts; humans, gaining the genuine, therefore achieve longevity. Worldly people cannot live long because they lose the imageless, scatter the formless, and cannot keep the nine orifices and the hundred bones together with the “true body”—hence death.

(Commentary says:) “Imageless” refers to qi; “formless” refers to spirit. Uniting spirit with qi, the path of Neidan (internal alchemy) is naturally accomplished—hence “complete authenticity aiding one another, one can endure long.” The meaning of the nine sentences that follow is clear; they are not annotated line by line here.

Approximate Explanation of the Dingguan Jing (Scripture of Fixed Contemplation) (Recounted by Zixia Hanxuzi)

“Dingguan” (fixed contemplation) is what Buddhism calls zhiguan ( cessation and contemplation): when the mind is settled, then one contemplates. Contemplation includes inner contemplation, outer contemplation, distant contemplation, empty contemplation, and so on. When a person can settle and then contemplate, spirit is not shaken; one can then inwardly contemplate no-mind, outwardly contemplate no-form, distantly contemplate no-thing—even “contemplating emptiness” returns to emptiness. The Daoshu Quanji (Complete Collection of Daoist Books) contains commentary by Hunranzi, but the meaning is fragmented and does not grasp the scripture’s intent; what follows briefly follows the scripture’s original meaning.

The Heavenly Lord said to the Left (Auxiliary) Xuan True Person:

“Left” is read as zuo (to assist)—meaning to assist and support; it refers to a minister who assists mysterious achievement. In the Shujing (Book of Documents), in “the Duke of Zhou assisted the former kings left and right,” “left and right” is also read in the departing tone; the note says “left and right means to assist.”

If you wish to cultivate the Dao, you must first set aside worldly affairs. Regarding external matters, cut them off as far as possible and do not let them clash with the inner mind—

Here “external affairs” means matters not directly related to body-and-mind cultivation. “Wu” (clash) means to go against or resist; going against produces affliction, so one must first abandon and cut off such things as much as possible, so that the mind of affliction does not arise.

After you are seated, sit steadily and look inward to see what thoughts arise in the mind. Once you notice a thought arising, remove it and press it down, so the mind stays as quiet as possible.

Here, “thought” (nian) means the kind of thought tied to grasping and clinging. The Buddhist scriptures say to work at the very instant when a thought is about to arise, so such thoughts should be cleared away and extinguished completely.

Besides that, even thoughts that are not yet obvious grasping—drifting, miscellaneous idle thinking—should be reduced as much as possible. Practice diligently day and night; do not slacken for a moment.

“Having grasping” refers to the “thoughts” mentioned above, such as craving fame and profit. “Floating, wandering idle thoughts” are those that have not yet settled into concrete grasping: thoughts that drift up for no reason, wander on and on, are messy and scattered, and are not very important. “Replace” (ti) means to discard or cut off.

Only extinguish the “moving mind”; do not extinguish the “illuminating mind.” Only gather the “empty mind”; do not freeze it into a “fixed mind.” Do not cling to one method, but let the mind often abide in a state of concentration.

“Thought” is the moving mind; “illumination” (zhao) is the mind that turns back to observe itself; “emptiness” (kong) is the mind without desire and without abiding in appearances; “fixation” (zhu) is the mind that grasps and is nailed to one place. “Not relying on one method” means not clinging to one thing—all things are empty, yet the mind can constantly abide in concentration.

Put this way, ordinary people’s minds are restless and competitive.

(This section wraps up the meaning of what came before, stated in reverse.)

Next, for beginners, calming the mind is very difficult. Sometimes it will not settle; after a brief pause it is disturbed again. Coming and going, stillness and movement battle in the mind, and the qi throughout the body may also run wild. Only after long, careful reflection and repeated effort does practice gradually ripen. Do not abandon this rare opportunity to cultivate across countless lifetimes just because you cannot gather the mind for a while.

Plain-language explanation

Xixin (quieting the mind) is what Buddhism calls anxin (settling the mind). “Pause, then lose it again” is like the Confucian “cun and she wang”—when you cun (hold and keep), the mind stays with the body; when it wang (slips away), the mind runs outward. Once it runs out, outer circumstances pull it along; if it stays put, it returns inward. Mind and environment tug back and forth like two armies clashing. Breath follows inhalation and exhalation, so the scripture says “the hundred parts of the body flow and circulate.” If you want the mind to be able to stop, you must understand tiaoxin (regulating the mind): nothing more than moving from temporary gathering of the mind to lasting abiding. After long refined attention, regulating the mind becomes skilled—at first you can gather it only now and then, later you can dwell in it more and more. The “karma of a thousand lifetimes” mentioned above refers precisely to this mind that abides constantly.

“When you gain even a little stillness, stop there”: shao means “a little,” yi means “stop”—as soon as you touch a bit of quiet, test it in every jing (situation): walking, standing, sitting, lying down, handling affairs, noisy places—only then can you see whether the mind moves or not. Zuoyi means deliberately holding the mind. Whether busy or idle, be like wuxin (no contrived mind); in quiet and in clamor, keep a single aim (this one aim of regulating the mind).

If you bind the mind too tightly, urgency turns into illness—qi flaring into kuang and dian is the sign. The mind is naturally restless; pull it in too hard and you will surely get a violent, irritable disorder. Qi here is the breath-energy in the heart; when the mind moves, qi moves. Kuang is the mark of sudden violence, dian the mark of agitation; kuang and dian are still mild—outright bao (fury and rashness) is worse.

When the mind already does not move, you must also let it be free—neither too tight nor too loose—so adjustment becomes steady by itself: there is discipline without clinging, release without scattering; you do not hate noise, you are not vexed by affairs—this is true ding (true settledness).

“De suo” ( attaining what is fitting) means what is appropriate and just right. “Zi heng tiao shi” ( self-adjusting in constant balance) means adapting to one’s lot and to circumstances, at ease and unhurried: the mind neither clings nor is dragged about by outer conditions; whether the pace is relaxed or urgent, each finds its proper place—that is adjustment. “Wu e wu nao” ( neither hatred nor vexation) means the heart does not rise in aversion and does not manufacture its own troubles. In that state, “zhen ding” ( true stillness) is constant quiet: stillness rooted in the quiet of one’s original nature, not in forcibly suppressing thoughts.

One need not deliberately take on more affairs just because “when things happen, one is not vexed”; nor need one force oneself into noisy places just because “amid clamor one does not give rise to evil thoughts.” “Yi wu shi wei zhen zhai” ( taking non-activity as the true abode) means taking the realm of stillness and non-busyness as one’s resting place; “yi you shi wei ying ji” ( taking activity as responsive traces) means taking the realm of movement and responding to affairs as outward traces—like a water-mirror reflecting things: when something comes, a form appears, without fixation on any single shape. “Shan qiao fang bian” ( skillful expedient means) is responding to things as they arise and belongs on the side of responsive traces; yet to respond constantly while remaining constantly still, the crux lies solely in being able to enter ding ( samadhi/stillness)—hence the scripture says “only by being able to enter ding.”

If one seeks many tasks in order to test the mind, how can one know that vexation will not arise instead? If one forces oneself into clamor to test stillness, how can one know that evil will not arise instead? “Zhen zhai” is spoken from the perspective of the still realm; “ying ji” from the perspective of the active realm; “shan qiao fang bian” is following the heart in responding to things—that is responsive traces. What stillness requires is the capacity to enter ding, not a performance of busyness or bustle.

Whether hui ( wisdom, clear awareness) arises slowly or quickly is not entirely within one’s control. In ding, do not urgently chase hui: haste injures xing ( nature/inner disposition), and when xing is injured, hui is hard to generate. In ding, not seeking hui, hui often appears of itself—such ding alone deserves the name “zhen hui” ( true wisdom). Having hui yet not wielding it, “shi zhi ruo yu” ( true wisdom seems foolish), actually nourishes both ding and hui all the more—“shuang mei wu ji” ( dual perfection without limit).

From ding, hui is born—let it be natural; when using hui, do not cling to “I am using hui”—not-hui is precisely true hui: “ding hui shuang xiu” ( dual cultivation of concentration and wisdom), its joy is boundless.

If thoughts rise in ding, one easily attracts various corrupting disturbances: “yao jing bai mei” ( goblins, essences, and the hundred phantoms) appear along with the moving mind. At such times one must still “yong hui bu hui, bu hui nai hui” ( use wisdom without wisdom; not-wisdom is wisdom)—ding and hui cultivated together.

If in ding one sees images of the Heavenly Lord ( Tianzun), immortals, revered figures, and the like, the scripture calls this “xiang” ( an omen)—here read as “zhao” ( portent). The ancients distinguished “zhen xiang” ( auspicious omens) from “yao xiang” ( inauspicious omens, strange portents); here the sense of yao xiang is intended: what appears in ding is not necessarily true sages or true immortals; it may be transformations of mind-consciousness. One should discern carefully, not crave states, and not grasp at forms.

Plain-Language Reading of Yuandong Neipian (Inner Chapter of Round Broof)

Main idea of the scripture

Above “fixing the mind,” one suddenly opens up and is no longer covered by anything; below “fixing the mind,” one is vast and without foundation, with nowhere to stand or cling. Old karma lessens day by day, and new karma is no longer created. Without obstruction or attachment, one fully leaves the cage of the mundane world. Practice this over time, and one will naturally accord with the Dao.

Commentary

“Nothing covering above, no footing below”—in the end this is simply “one emptiness.” It is a deeper level of practice in fixed contemplation, the same meaning as in the preceding scripture: “Contemplate emptiness until emptiness too is empty; how can desire arise?”

Seven signs of one who has attained the Dao

One who truly attains the Dao generally shows seven verifying signs:

1. The mind settles easily: The heart is easy to stabilize and harmonize; one can notice the many leaks and wear of worldly dust.

2. Old ailments broadly dissolve: Chronic illness gradually fades; body and mind feel light and clear.

3. Repairing early loss: One replenishes innate deficiency; there is an image of “returning to youth and restoring life.”

4. Extending life by thousands of years: Lifespan is greatly lengthened—such a one may be called an immortal.

5. Refining form into qi: The bodily form transforms into true qi—called a True Person (zhenren).

6. Refining qi into spirit: Qi transforms into spirit—called a Spirit Person (shenren).

7. Refining spirit and merging with the Dao: Spirit unites with the Dao—called an Utmost Person (zhiren).

Other wisdom and capacities become clearer in step with each stage. Only when the Dao is complete is wisdom fully rounded and sufficient—“yuanbei” (complete fulfillment) means all seven signs have been passed through.

A warning about “false attainment”

If one studies “fixing the mind” for a long time yet none of the seven signs appear, while instead life is shortened, the body grows heavy and turbid, complexion fades, and one bears an empty reputation outside the world yet speaks of wisdom and awakening and calls oneself accomplished—reasoning from this, the quest for the Dao has not been genuine. The verse says:

Discriminating knowing rises from the environment;

Fire (affliction) rises from conditions.

All are the true nature in motion;

Follow them and the source of the Dao slips away.

When mind arises, still knowing;

Once knowing arises, mind grows more troubled.

Understand that the nature of knowing is originally empty—

Knowing is precisely the gate of all wonders.

Closing

This scripture leads the human heart-nature into the Dao with thorough, compassionate care. Here the meaning is explained according to the text, to show the author’s original intent.

Plain-Language Interpretation of the Wuchu Jing and Related Commentaries

On the Format of the Scripture

The Wuchu Jing uses the line pattern of five-character classical verse; it reads awkwardly and has many layers, so commentators often write at length.

“Shi ben zi” is the name of a commentary edition; what follows quotes Tang-dynasty Yin Yin, a perfected person of Jingsuming Abbey in the capital:

“Preserve ‘one qi harmonized in great harmony,’ and the five viscera will be full and the five spirits will be quiet and upright. When the five viscera are full, flavor is sufficient; when the five spirits are quiet, craving naturally lessens.”

This scripture speaks of the “sustenance” on which the five viscera depend—like taking food from a kitchen—hence the title Wuchu (Five Kitchens).

“One qi harmonized in great harmony; obtaining one Dao, all is harmony. Harmony then has no single harmony; profound principle meets profound border.”

“One qi” means the pre-heaven single qi.

“Harmonized in great harmony” means harmonizing and gathering the discordant qi within the five viscera. After they are gathered, obtaining one qi is obtaining Dao-qi, and the whole body becomes great-harmony qi.

When the whole body is great-harmony qi, harmony pervades everywhere—vast and undivided—so there is no separate “harmony” left to name.

Here “principle” (li) means nature (xing); “border” (ji) means meeting and junction—nature and life (ming) are together, and the two “profound” (xuan) cannot be split. When profound meets profound, each keeps nature and life correct and preserves the great harmony (taihe).

“Do not use intention to intend intention; do not seek no-thought either. Intention yet without possessed thought—hold the method just so.”

The “intention” (yi) that appears below mostly means “true intention” (zhenyi), related to wisdom-light (huiguang).

“Do not use intention to intend intention”: at the moment the two profound aspects meet, whether wisdom-light comes slowly or quickly is not something you can arrange on purpose; do not urgently chase wisdom in meditation—but do not deliberately seek “complete absence of thought” either.

You should guard intention within the compass: forgetting yet not forgetting, not forgetting yet forgetting—in the space between having intention and not having it, one qi arises and wisdom-light appears; that is how to hold this method well.

Hence: “Having intention yet without possessed thought—hold it exactly like this.”

“Do not let the heart cling to the heart; do not dwell on cutting off connection either. Heart present yet do not store the heart; in truth then guard the true abyss.”

Do not use the inward-gazing heart to grasp at the heart of outer desire—then inner imaginings do not arise and outer imaginings do not enter.

Once you have the thought of “cutting off outer connection,” do not cling to that very thought of “cutting connection” either.

“Heart present” means awareness is present; “do not store the heart” means do not turn that awareness into something to grasp again.

Thus you guard the “true abyss” (zhen yuan)—the deep still place where true qi (zhen qi) returns.

I. Inner Illumination and Outer Entanglements

Do not use the mind that turns inward to chase after the mind that clings to outer desires and worldly attachments. Then inner distractions will not leak outward, and outer temptations will not seep into the heart. You must cut off outward clinging, yet not grip tightly the thought “I am cutting myself off from the world”—that is, gather when gathering is called for and release when releasing is called for, adjusting between strictness and ease on your own: restrained but not sticky, open but not scattered. When the heart guards within, do not also set up in the mind an image of “the heart is within,” bound by the method. Simply hold to true constancy (zhenchang), still as a deep abyss; what the Zhouyi Cantongqi (Cantong qi, “Kinship of the Three”) calls “floating and guarding the center of the compass” (fuyou shou guizhong) is exactly this.

II. Holding Aspiration and Releasing Aspiration (Four Lines)

What you cultivate is “aspiration” (zhi), and you must also know how to “release aspiration”; striving hard yet walking a path that does not match “releasing aspiration” misses the point. Only guarding aspiration without cultivating aspiration—your own practice, your own realm—you cannot explain clearly even to yourself.

III. Cultivating Nature: First Hold Aspiration, Then Release It

The order in cultivating nature (xing): first stabilize aspiration, then let go of attachment to “aspiration.” Holding aspiration means using aspiration with single focus, without disorder; releasing aspiration means returning aspiration to empty stillness. If you exhaust yourself cultivating nature while death-gripping aspiration, that is a one-sided view (bianjian)—you will surely give rise to “dwelling in mind” (zhuxin), fixing on some thought—and that contradicts the way of “releasing aspiration.” What is meant by holding aspiration without “grasping” aspiration is like “continuous as if present” (mianmian ruo cun): the work of cultivating oneself need not be meddled with by personal opinions; naturally at ease—that is pure non-action (qingjing wuwei).

IV. Eating Qi and Binding Qi

The Huangting jing (Yellow Court Classic) says: “People all eat grain and the five flavors; alone one eats the grand-harmony yin-yang qi.” From this we know: any qi nourished by eating things with flavor is only qi temporarily merged together; before long it must be expelled again.

The Huangting Jing says: “Ordinary people rely on the five grains and the five flavors to fill their bellies; only the cultivator takes the qi of Great Harmony (Taihe) and yin-yang as nourishment.” From this one can see: whoever uses all kinds of flavors to nourish qi only gets qi that mingles for a moment—soon after eating one is hungry again. That is not the kind of qi in which a single breath flows smoothly, the qi of Great Harmony that can long remain in the body and settle and condense for a long time. Within the five viscera, each has its “Taihe” as root. The perfected person gathers the five qi and establishes them as the inner cauldron (the furnace of inner refinement). When one qi arises in the cauldron, each returns to the root of its kind of qi; one takes and uses it at will, and also releases and emits it at will. When taking, the five qi return to the Origin (wuzi chaos yuan); when releasing, the hundred bones and joints are all regulated. What the Yijing calls “the yellow center penetrates and connects with principle, the correct position occupies the body, beauty lies within, it flows through the four limbs and extends into one’s work—this is the utmost of beauty”—here “release” (xie) means to flow forth and circulate.

The Mingjing Xia Jing (Scripture of the Bright Mirror Casket)

The “bright mirror casket” is used to reveal the subtle pivot of huangbai (the gold-and-silver aspect of external alchemy)—like a precious mirror taken from its case, clear and bright. The key lies in mercury alone as the single ingredient; the method requires first making the mercury “die” (depriving it of its flowing nature so it can be compounded and refined); the foundation requires first refining the true earth (in internal alchemy, true earth; in external alchemy, the base material used to fix mercury).

The Most High, in compassion, wrote the essentials of the great elixir directly on bamboo and silk. If a person is utterly sincere and moves Heaven, a perfected one of the Great Purity will surely unravel the hidden words for them—then the ten thousand methods all become clear. The immortal law is very strict; one dare not annotate recklessly. Here, with reverence, the essential subtleties of the true scripture are briefly set forth in the circled annotations.

People do not know the wonder of the “One”; in truth all things are generated from this single Qi (vital energy). If one can grasp the purport of the “One” and hold fast to this unity, every affair finds its place. The “One” is like the root of water, and in turn connects with the Wood of the east (Wood qi). The meaning within Gui (Water) gives rise to Xin metal, pure and bright as fine jade.

The “Two” is the essence of Fire; one must not lose the Geng metal of the west as “father.” Ren water begets golden metal, and golden metal in turn becomes the Earth of the central palace. Golden metal and cinnabar are the “father”; white metal and mercury are the “mother.” Ren and Gui are the essence within water; to recognize them is to recognize Wu and Ji (central Earth). Black lead is not ordinary lead—within it is inherently the pre-heaven water; cinnabar is not ordinary cinnabar either—within it hides the mysterious primordial fire. When Water and Fire are completed (shuihuo jiji) and do not part from the Earth of the Kun direction, if the true “mother” cannot communicate with spirit, the right Yang qi must still be added to supplement. Extract from Kan to fill Li, and the myriad things return to the primordial ancestor.

Kun is the mother who nourishes the “Infant”; Qian is the father who raises the “Crimson Maiden.” The Crimson Maiden is given in marriage to the Infant, forming husband and wife. Water and Fire gather into one mass; the couple regard each other in mutual care. The essence of male–female union in turn generates male and female anew. Without the father the mother cannot be established; without the mother the father cannot stand. Only when father and mother are complete in true form does one not lose the true Dragon and Tiger. Dragon and Tiger are precisely the Yellow Sprout; the Yellow Sprout is precisely true Earth; true Earth is the supreme medicine, and the supreme medicine never leaves the ancestor. Leave the ancestor and elixir cannot form; when elixir forms, it has its own principle. A hen cannot hatch chicks—with a mother but no father, she merely broods a lone egg in vain; when the qi disperses, no child is formed.

If one wishes mercury to “die” (to set and fix), the mother must first be made to die. Only when the mother dies and merges with the mysterious primordial can she be paired with cinnabar as “father.” When father and mother unite in true essence can the child of mercury be “deadened.” When mercury dies it becomes lead, of the same kind as the Earth of Kun. Kun Earth nourishes the Infant, who in turn transforms back into the mother of mercury. Mercury was originally only one flavor, never parting from the Fire of the south. In the Qian palace there is the Vermilion Bird; in the Kun palace there is the Black Tortoise. The Black Tortoise produces Kun silver; the Vermilion Bird transforms into yellow Earth. When their endowments meet in the central palace, only then does mercury reach “death.” The Northern Dipper is the celestial pivot, holding within it the water of the central palace; the four emblems assemble at the central palace, and south and north unite as Wu and Ji. True essence generates Qian and Kun; lead and mercury are father and mother.

Parents refers to Geng and Xin (metal qi), whose energy naturally arises from the southwest direction. When one recognizes that Geng and Xin correspond to the pivot of heaven (the celestial pivot star and the key of heaven’s mechanism), within them lies the water of the Central Palace. The Four Emblems gather in the Central Palace, while south and north belong to Wu and Ji (earth). True essence is born from Qian and Kun; lead and mercury are like father and mother. Since the parents are Geng and Xin, they truly embody the number of the southwest. Only by knowing the essence of Geng and Xin can one refine the earth of the Central Palace. When true earth arises within, it can stabilize the central water. If one knows true mercury, one understands that yellow gold holds spirit fire within; if one knows true lead, one understands that white gold holds spirit water within. When the two qi combine to form the elixir (Dan), there is no need to worry about the “death” of cinnabar (mercury). If one cannot recognize water and fire, how can one grasp the principle of dry mercury? Wet earth cannot dry water; dry earth can restrain water. To know the mechanism of generation and destruction is to know the principle of the Returning Elixir (Huandan). Yellow gold is true fire; white gold is true water. How many alchemists have ended as lost souls because they went astray?

Ji earth is not true sulfur, and Wu earth is not Tianque (the true essence in the kidneys, primordial yang). If one treats these only as ordinary earth, one misses their real meaning. Cinnabar (mercury) must be mutually generated; it must pass through birth and death. To make cinnabar “die,” its mother must die first. The essence of primordial Qian and Kun is the true Wu and Ji. Qian is yellow, Kun is white—no medicine surpasses this yellow-white pair. Use only the essence of yellow and white, not their gross forms. Where does the essence of yellow and white come from? It is matched with cinnabar (vermilion) alone. When cinnabar dies and turns red, then cinnabar (mercury) truly dies. When cinnabar cannot fly, the key to forming the medicine (elixir) lies here. Immortals who obtain this essence can steal and absorb the qi of heaven and earth. Ordinary people who obtain it can amass gold and wealth. One turn leads to nine turns—eighty-one in all (nine times nine). Whoever understands this should guard it deeply and apply it with care. Keep it secret; do not speak of it lightly—only then can one reach the rank of immortals. Having obtained it, one should broadly benefit others and not waste it in vain. To know this and reveal it lightly displeases the celestial gods. Be cautious again and again—though words run to a thousand or ten thousand.

Plain-Language Reading of Yuanjiao Neipian (Inner Chapter of the Round Peak)

The “Golden Millet Song” describes how to plant the medicine in Neidan (internal alchemy)—that is, how to establish and gently nourish the foundation of the elixir within body and mind. The great elixir is said to be no larger than a grain of millet; you must first “plant” it in the Jade Field (commonly the lower Dantian (energy center) or wherever intention gathers in practice), and “till the soil” diligently through regulated breathing, fixed attention, and proper fire phases (timing and intensity of practice). When it “ripens,” it is like harvesting golden grain, which can then be “ingested”—meaning spirit and Qi (vital energy) are fused in refinement to produce the inner medicine. The crucial move is to work from within “lead” (in alchemical language, true yin, Jing (essence), or the “lead” side of the lead–mercury pair); what you actually rely on, in the end, is always the “mercury” side (metaphorically original yang, spirit-Qi, or mercury).

What follows is a Neidan verse formula, explained line by line:

Mother-Qi is transmitted to the child first; the newborn child-nature is still dull. The second child is the same—hard to tell from undifferentiated chaos. With the third child, light appears; one spark of transformation separates firm from yielding. One child begets another, and the nature of the nine children is fierce. When heart and breath are pure and still, and you tread the void in the Great Void, a celestial immortal comes to welcome you—what this scripture transmits touches the utmost Dao (the Way); it must not be spoken lightly to those without affinity.

One pill of the elixir (the completed inner medicine) can extend life across myriad kalpas (an extreme way of saying how deep its effect and fortune run). “One begets two, two beget three, three beget the ten thousand things” (from the Daodejing, here meaning the layered unfolding from the limitless → Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) → Yin-Yang → the ten thousand things, and likewise Jing → Qi → Shen (spirit))—the cycle never stops. Those without affinity rarely meet this scripture; these are the true secret formulas of the sages.

“The cauldron has no head, the kettle has no ears”—meaning you do not rely on an outer furnace shape; you set the “cauldron” only inside the body. “Geng on the outside, Xin on the inside” (using the heavenly stems as images of outer/inner and yin–yang pairing). You need no miscellaneous drugs; take Water and Fire directly as the match (heart and kidney, Kan and Li in union). “Swallows and sparrows do not hatch phoenixes; a lone rabbit does not suckle a horse”—without the true seed, whatever you refine is false. “Plant grain with millet; without millet grain, no crop grows”; “Refine the elixir with treasure; without treasure, no elixir forms.” If you use ordinary mixed stuff, you will never achieve the real thing.

“Use lead without using lead; you must act within lead”—do not cling to crude “lead,” but establish yourself where “lead” stands for essence, yin, and the true One. “When you reach the moment to use lead, using lead is still wrong”—if you still fixate on the word “lead,” you miss again. To make mercury (yang) “die” (congeal and cease scattering), you must first constrain living mercury; if mercury does not “die,” how can you speak of controlling mercury? Raw and cooked (yin–yang, Kan–Li) mutually subdue each other; when subduing is complete, spirit communicates. Black and red (the color-images of lead–mercury union) congeal like cinnabar and mercury; to know this clearly is to touch the deepest layer.

If you do not depart from “male and female” (yin and yang), yin and yang endlessly beget; child begets grandchild—an image of Jing, Qi, and Shen transforming generation after generation. Beyond mercury there is no second substance: first comes “flesh” (form, yin substance), then “bone” (structure, yang substance); flesh and bone intimately join into the real, and from then the River Chariot (the circuit of the week, Ren and Du vessels, or the ascent of essence-Qi) can turn again and again.

This medicine has no outer furnace, only a cauldron; one cauldron can become ten thousand cauldrons—when the fire is sufficient in one place in the body, every place is a cauldron. “Gold transforms gold, silver transforms silver”—when was there ever a separate god or spirit to seek outside? After “turning, refining, and parting the embryo” three times, one still fears the ancestral line is tainted by coarse dust (unpurified desire and gross Qi). Medicine is gold and gold is medicine; the mother nourishes the child, and the bond runs deep. The pregnant maiden (yin, Kan) is securely hidden in the spirit chamber (the central palace, Dantian), like a maiden in deep quarters nurturing a fetus—the will must be firm.

Jade Field and golden grain can be planted at any time; the above has already been stated plainly. Those who receive the scripture should keep it secret; if you neither seal nor hide it, you may incur heaven’s rebuke (the Dao does not tolerate careless disclosure and misuse).

Commentary on the Rootless Tree Verses

Annotated by Liu Wuyuan of Qiyun Mountain, with explication by Li Hanxu of Changyi Mountain.

Preface

The Celestial Master of Tiantai, Zhang Boduan, in his Understanding Reality (Wu Zhen Pian), set forth the great matters of internal and external elixir ingredients, reverting the elixir, and related themes. People of shallow understanding at the time could not grasp it; some even took it for manuals of furnace firing and “battle” dual cultivation. Ye Wenshu, failing to penetrate elixir reversion, dressed up popular notions with talk of pure stillness and the like. Weng Baoguang, reading this, said: “This does not understand the Golden Elixir.” He wrote a commentary to set matters straight. Lu Ziye and Chen Shangyang developed the theme further; the three commentaries on Understanding Reality circulated, and Ye’s commentary was eclipsed.

Zhang Sanfeng of Liaoyang was a heavenly immortal. While at Wudang he composed twenty-four Daoist lyric pieces, Rootless Tree Daoist Sentiments, which answer to Purple Yang’s Understanding Reality before and after—yet some still read them as furnace fire and dual “battle” cultivation. Hanxu (Li Hanxu) stated plainly: “The Dao does not prevail because the Dao is not clear.” He long wished to write a commentary to explain it, but lacked a like-minded companion in the elixir path.

Liu Wuyuan of Qiyun was broad in talent and eloquent; many of his works circulated, among them Commentary on the Rootless Tree. Hanxu obtained it and read it: the meaning was vast, the reasoning rounded and coherent—he rejoiced greatly, rejoicing that another had first shared his own mind. Where Liu’s notes still fell short, Hanxu supplemented them: internal and external elixir ingredients, cycles of return and firing, sequence of furnace and vessel—all explained with clarity. From then on Rootless Tree had two layers of explication, as Understanding Reality had three commentaries. When the commentary was complete, they asked the author of this preface for a preface; the preface writer is no sage—he only records that their intent was thus.

Preface and Origin

On the day of Beginning of Autumn in the dingwei year, the Master of Qingxia Cave read this text together with his junior fellow disciple He Xifu and committed it to memory here.

Two Self-Composed Lyrics on “Rootless Tree”

“Partridge Sky” (Zhegu Tian)

The Dao and its methods circulate in the world—some orthodox, some heterodox. Those who stray into deviant paths and turn from the true Way are found everywhere under heaven. Those who truly ascend, like a phoenix piercing the clouds, are rare; those sunk in crooked ways are as many as frogs fallen into a well. True and false are hard to tell apart; conflicting voices multiply, until ordinary red earth is mistaken for cinnabar used in elixir-making. If you wish to recognize the path that truly penetrates the mysterious, you must ponder carefully the flower “under the rootless tree.”

“Selling Flowers” (Maihua Sheng)

On the rootless tree is taught the principle of true constancy: the six paths of rebirth (heaven, human, asura, animal, hungry ghost, hell)—all sentient beings share one and the same light. If you thoroughly awaken to what lies before and after the time of King Awesome Voice Buddha, originally neither coming nor going, you will see your original face in full dignity.

Liu’s Note: “Rootless Tree” is the overall title of this set of lyric pieces. A tree must have roots to grow; without roots it cannot last. People live in the world—birth, aging, sickness, death, now present, now gone—a hundred years pass like sparks from flint or a flash of lightning, like a tree without roots. The Immortal Elder’s twenty-four lyrics, taking “Rootless Tree” as their theme, aim to rouse the world, see through floating life as illusion, and cultivate nature and life (xingming) while there is still time.

Postscript

On the Zhonghe Festival in the jiazi year, the seventeenth year of the Hongwu reign, Zhang Sanfeng, old subject of the Great Yuan, recorded this himself in his thatched hut on Tianzhu Peak at Wudang Mountain.

[Li’s Explanation]

The “Rootless Tree” is spoken of in terms of Qi in the human body. The hundred vessels of the body all arise from Qi, and Qi in turn arises from the realm of emptiness and non-being—hence “rootless.” In Neidan, one must nurture a “root and foundation” within that emptiness; both pre-heaven and post-heaven emerge from non-being into being—so “rootless” is precisely the source of what is “rooted.”

For refining the post-heaven: one must first “enter non-being to seek being,” then cast that “being” back into “non-being.” For refining the pre-heaven: one again moves from “being” into “non-being,” then from “non-being” back to “being”—the rationale of practice runs roughly along these lines.

The Qi of the body differs in youth, prime, and age; the Qi of cultivation differs in early, middle, and late stages. All twenty-four chapters correspond to the four seasons of a year, urging one to view the blossoms in season under the Rootless Tree—this is the Daoist lyric mode at its fullest in beauty and goodness.

Chapter One

[Liu] Lament for the ways of the world.

[Li] Urging people to nurture the “hidden flower” (a metaphor for inner refinement).

The rootless tree—its blossoms deep and still;

Who clings to glory and splendor, and will ever stop?

Life adrift is like a boat on the sea of suffering—

Tossed and driven, never free.

No shore, no bound—hard to moor at all;

One drifts forever where fish and dragons meet peril.

Turn the head— the shore is right ahead—

Do not wait till waves rise and wreck the boat as well.

Note: In commentarial tradition, “Rootless Tree,” “hidden flower,” and “viewing blossoms” often point to Neidan Qi refinement—nurturing root in emptiness and not clinging to worldly glory. The closing “turn the head and the shore is before you,” paired with “boat on the sea of suffering,” carries both worldly exhortation and cultivation in a single image.

[Liu’s commentary] What is called “flower” (hua) is the appearance of vital essence (Jing) flourishing within a tree and manifesting outward. The human body is like a tree, and the “true spirit” (Zhenling) in a person is like the blossom on that tree.

A tree has roots before it can grow and bloom. This human body, however, has no root like a tree’s; birth and death shift unpredictably, all depending on whether this “true spirit Qi” is in motion: when the true spirit is strong, the person lives and vitality remains; when it fails, the person dies and life is spent. Whether one persists or perishes, lives or dies, hangs entirely on whether this true spirit flourishes and can be preserved.

Thus, although the true spirit is likened to the flower on the human “tree,” in the most fundamental sense it is precisely the “root” of that tree. Master Yuyang called the true spirit “Huangya” (Yellow Sprout); Boyang (in the alchemical lineage often associated with Cantong qi) called it “Golden Flower”; the Pure Yang master called it “Linggen” (Spirit Root); Master Ziyang called it “true gold”; Shao Yaofu called it “Celestial Root”; another immortal elder termed it “golden essence”; and various Neidan (internal alchemy) scriptures also name it “pre-heaven Primordial Qi (Xiantian yi qi).” The names are many, but all refer to one and the same reality.

It is born in the pre-heaven realm and concealed within the post-heaven; it can fix the positions of heaven and earth, govern Yin-Yang, drive the Five Phases, and nurture the ten thousand things. In its vast aspect, there is nothing outside it; in its subtle aspect, nothing inside it. Released, it can fill the six directions; gathered back, it hides in the innermost depth (“stored away in secrecy”).

As to its substance: in Confucian terms it is Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); in Daoist terms, the Golden Elixir; in Buddhist terms, Perfect Enlightenment (Yuanjue). As to its function: in Confucian terms, “illustrious virtue” and “the heart of heaven and earth”; in Daoist terms, “Lingbao” and the “millet-sized mysterious pearl”; in Buddhist terms, the “treasury of the true Dharma eye” and the “marvelous mind of nirvana.”

Human true spirit is originally complete in nature—round and full, bright and shining, pure and naked, neither arising nor perishing, neither clinging to form and color nor falling into blank emptiness; on a sage it adds not a whit, on an ordinary person it subtracts not a whit. Once it mixes with post-heaven habit-energy, differences appear: common people lose it, the noble person keeps it—hence the distinction between sage and ordinary person.

“Common people lose it” means they abandon the true spirit and chase the “false spirit”; “the noble person keeps it” means holding to the true spirit and not running after the false. When people pursue the false spirit, the true spirit grows dark and unclear; they follow emotion and desire, cling to glory and comfort, scramble for fame and gain, and refuse to rest, taking the false for real. Myriad worries stir the heart, countless affairs weary the body—like a boat on the bitter sea, drifting and tossing, always blundering among dragons, fish, and peril.

If one suddenly awakens and turns back toward the Dao, one can at once reach the other shore; do not wait until wind and waves wreck the vessel and life is lost. Once human form is lost, to escape again is often hard to obtain even across ten thousand kalpas.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Commentary by Li: This mountain dweller has lived deep beneath the “Rootless Tree” for many years, always wanting to explain its hidden meaning clearly enough to draw like-minded companions into shared inquiry. One day he strolled through the mountain garden and saw flowers and trees in quiet stillness, each with its own full grace—and only then understood that the word “profound” (you) is the very root from which the whole meaning of Chapter 24, “Rootless Tree,” grows.

“Profound” means depth and a realm of emptiness without fixed form. Every such empty, formless realm in the world can be seen as a place where a Daoist arranges flowers and trees and sets up an altar. That is why Master Wushan once inscribed for Zhubaozhai: “Three paths of profound flowers, fragrance at ease; four gardens of cultivated bamboo, shadows interwoven.” The line is finely turned, and its “profound” is the same idea as here.

If flowers are not deep and secluded, their fragrance cannot rest at ease; if a person is busy with worldly affairs, the heart will rarely know a day’s peace. Interwoven bamboo shadows speak of emptiness of heart and quiet breath supporting each other: using breath to nourish the heart and the heart to nourish breath—when breath is full, principle is complete; when the heart is at rest, spirit is whole—so one can preserve the true and nurture the numinous. Master Wuyuan used the two words “true numinous” (zhenling) to stand for the tree, flowers, and root in the human body; that reading also holds.

True numinous means “true knowing” (zhenzhi) and “numinous knowing” (lingzhi). Numinous knowing belongs to yin in nature and disposition; true knowing belongs to yang in nature and disposition. Only when nature and disposition are not spoiled is true numinous whole. Unfortunately, the seven emotions and six desires wear it away—within, nature is harmed; without, disposition is harmed—and true numinous is lost. Once true numinous is gone, it is like a tree without flowers or a tree without roots—such is Wuyuan’s main point.

I would add one thing: flowers come from the tree, the tree from the root, and the root from “nothing”; the body of true numinous is originally conceived in emptiness—hence “flowers truly profound.” Conceiving in emptiness points to inborn wisdom and the person’s empty, numinous awareness.

One

What is nurtured within “emptiness and void” is the innate wisdom of a person, also called the subtle empty spirit: it has no shadow and no fixed form, yet it is fully equipped with principle and can respond to every affair. Sages and worthies find it more than enough; immortals and buddhas each nourish it to its proper place. The only requirement is not to let it mingle with desire and emotion. Once it links up with desire, one day after another drags “being” out of “non-being” for use; the more one daily seizes “being,” the more one daily loses “non-being”; the more “non-being” is lost, the more the root is lost. Without the root, the tree is gone; without the tree, the flowers are gone too. As the saying goes, “When people grow old they grow muddled; when trees grow old their hearts go hollow”—wisdom dries up, the subtle empty spirit disperses, and what true spirit could remain?

Most people cling to glory and rank and refuse to rest. Day after day they busy themselves with the floating affairs of life, never reflecting that a hundred years pass in a blink and that when the body dies, all things are empty. The human body is already aboard the boat on the sea of suffering, yet they do not consider that when impermanence arrives, the nature-spirit sinks and the boat capsizes—without shore, without mooring, hard to anchor and hard to tie off. Each drift and each stroke is through places of dragons and fish and hidden peril: rushing here and there, toiling in vain, squandering wisdom for nothing and shutting the subtle empty spirit behind walls of confinement—what good does any of it do?

The immortal master, deeply moved by compassion, then steers the boat of kindness to ferry people across and says: the reason worldly people sink deep into the sea of suffering and cannot climb out is simply that they refuse to turn back and cannot recognize where the shore is. If one will turn back, that is the shore. The shore is the path of awakening. Walk that path of awakening, and wisdom returns; the subtle empty spirit can endure. Wrongs of the past need not be fought over; rights of the future can still be pursued. Even if spirit and qi have declined, there are still ways to return them. Do not wait until wind and waves surge and smash the boat; only when the boat still holds and the person is still aboard can one speak of the help that reaches the other shore and lifts one out of the pit of danger.

Two

[Liu’s note] Encourages those who study the Dao. [Li’s note] Urges people to practice the work of “grafting and continuation” (internal refinement to renew life).

Plain-Language Interpretation

The “Rootless Tree” is like a person in old age: as a tree nears the end of its life, its blossoms look faint and weak—yet an old trunk can be grafted with tender shoots and put out new growth again. Plum can be grafted onto willow, mulberry onto pear; though the stock is old, it can still revive. These are lifeless plants, and they can still “return from age to youth”—how much more so for human beings, the most spirit-endowed of the ten thousand things, who receive the upright Qi of Heaven and Earth. When we grow old, is there truly no remedy?

What can remedy it is what the ancients called the immortal’s “grafting” method: not literally grafting trees, but using that image to show that though the body is aged, one can still, through the correct practice, connect and nourish Jing, Qi, and Shen—as when an old tree receives young scions. Whoever would walk this path should quickly seek an enlightened master who knows the true method, and ask clearly how to begin. Even if one has already hurried to start, it is still “too late to have started”—meaning: once you can practice, do not delay another moment.

Liu’s commentary stresses the same point: many people think that when they are old, their strength fails and their spirit is insufficient—like a tree past bloom, as if nothing can sprout again—so they give up on themselves and wait for death. Yet in the world, old trees grafted with new branches can flourish again; even things without feeling can do this, so humans should not lightly say there is no hope. What is called “medicine and healing” here is precisely this path of “grafting when old,” reconnecting the root; once you have this Way and this “formula,” you must still cultivate swiftly, because time does not wait for anyone.

Plain-Language Reading of “Inner Chapter of Round Peak”

[Li’s commentary]

“Wei” means decline and weakness. As people age, innate Yuan Qi (original vitality) weakens day by day; one must not delay in finding ways to nourish and restore it. Look at plum grafted onto willow, mulberry onto pear—that is the pattern right before your eyes. “Ji” (lodging) here is like what internal alchemy calls dwelling in the “Dui household,” placing the body in the western neighbor; “jie” (joining) is like joining nature to life, joining self to other. So plum on willow and mulberry on pear are exactly how people today practice true cultivation, and what ancient immortals called the “zaijie” (grafting and joining) method. Zaijie is the way to treat senility. There is a sound method for grafting trees: it applies to trees of the same kind or close kin, such as plum, willow, mulberry, and pear. Split the old branch, insert the tender shoot, clamp and bind it, then pack good soil around the join so yin and yang halves meet in one line—that is tree grafting. To treat aging, one must also “let like enter like,” blend with wondrous soil, before one can return to youth. This method lives in the mind of a clear master; everything depends on whether the seeker can visit and ask the right person. “Hurry to cultivate and still you are late” means fear that time will not wait—when impermanence arrives, if nature is not yet clarified and life not yet established, one falls into the empty ghost realm. Immortal Lady He said: “In the immortal garden, on the flat peach hangs a branch of willow; on the Fusang mulberry is joined a pear—this is the immortal prescription indicated by the Lord of the East and the Queen Mother of the West.” Patriarch Sanfeng’s words here are not empty talk.

Three

[Liu’s note] The work of refining the self.

[Li’s note] He points to the subtle meaning of “flowers and willow.”

The rootless tree, its blossoms truly green—flowers and wine, and the way of immortals, have flowed in one line from antiquity to the present. The brothel quarter and the grove of meat and wine—one does not cease worldly fare, yet one does not commit sexual misconduct. Misconduct costs one the treasure of long life; wine and meat pass through the belly, but the Dao rests in the heart. Open the door and tell you plainly: without flowers and without wine, the Dao cannot be achieved.

[Liu’s Commentary]

The destination of Golden Elixir cultivation is to reach utmost clarity and purity, free of any impurity; yet to attain true clarity, one must first refine it amid extreme turbidity—only when one remains unstained in the most turbid environment is that true clarity. Hence the scripture says, “The rootless tree—its blossom is truly clear; flower and wine have made immortals from antiquity to the present.” How can flower and wine make an immortal? Places of pleasure and feasting are what most easily bewitch people; to see form in the midst of pleasure without being bound by form, and to meet meat and wine as circumstances without being burdened by them, is not violating chastity and not “cutting off” meat and strong flavors—when the nature of food and desire is transformed, the mind of Dao stays present and the ordinary mind is constantly extinguished, the true spirit is unharmed, and the Great Dao can be hoped for. “Not cutting off meat and strong flavors” does not mean greedily eating them; it means wine and meat pass through the gut while the heart does not reckon with them. Not violating chastity means no pleasure-districts in the heart—then there is the immortal flower of long life; wine and meat pass through while the heart holds no wine or meat—then there is the immortal wine that extends life. With immortal flower and immortal wine, one arrives at the land of clear truth and immortals. Worldly people shun pleasure and forbid wine and meat—how could they know that from ordinary flower and ordinary wine immortals can also emerge? How could they know that without flower and without wine, the Dao is instead hard to complete? The Qiaoyao Ge (Knocking at the Yao Verse) says: “Wine is a good companion, flower a mate; in flower lanes and willow alleys seek the true person—the true person is just playing in the flower lanes.” This is the subtle use of “the blossom is truly clear.”

[Li’s Explanation]

Ordinary people weigh food and desire most heavily; Patriarch Zhang Sanfeng uses flower and wine to break through the point: many are greedy for flower and wine—can you not also know there are “flower-and-wine immortals”? Seek the true person in flower lanes and pleasure quarters—the true person is right there playing in the flower lanes. This is not urging people to sink into indulgence, but teaching them to remain unstained amid turbidity: when the heart is clear, the flower is clear, and wine too becomes a resource for extending life.

[Li’s Commentary]

Ordinary people cling most stubbornly to desires for food and sex. Immortal Master Zhang Sanfeng used “flowers” and “wine” to awaken the world. Many are addicted to worldly flowers and wine—but who knows there is also a path of “becoming an immortal through flower and wine”? The primordial Qi (yuanqi) in the human body is tender, fresh, and lustrous; if one can “eat it, drive it, drink it, and wear it,” the spirit naturally clears and the energy lifts—this is what is meant by the “flower-and-wine immortal,” found in every age, yet never the kind found in brothels and feasts of meat and wine. Licentious pleasure in the red-light districts scrambles the mind; meat and wine foul the body’s qi—both are harmful, and lust harms more than flesh and strong drink. Those skilled at refining themselves eat when food comes without extra craving, so though they may not renounce meat they no longer hold meat in the mind; seeing beauty without stirring lust, not clinging to fair women, they do not violate lust and lust dies away. Otherwise essence is lost and fluids leak—a harm not small. Thus the Huangting Jing says: “When leaves fall the tree withers and loses its green; solely closing and guarding the inner landscape brings lasting peace.” From this we know that those who violate lust must lose the treasure of long life. Wine and meat may pass through the gut, yet the Dao remains in the heart—how could flower and wine truly bewitch? It is people who bewitch themselves with flower and wine! If one does not seek ordinary flowers and ordinary wine outside, one can surely see immortal flowers and immortal wine; immortal flower and immortal wine aid the path—that is the tender green flower on the rootless tree, rich in flavor and fine in color, most able to nourish the heart-mind. The immortal master opens the primordial gate and tells the assembly: without such “flower and wine,” the Dao is indeed hard to complete.

Four

[Liu’s Commentary] Repudiating side paths. [Li’s Commentary] Lamenting solitary cultivation.

On the rootless tree the flower stands alone—ask whether Yin and Yang can obtain a matching pair. The egg a hen lays, without a rooster, cannot hatch a chick; it turns its back on the furnace of Yin-Yang creation. A woman without a husband is a resentful maiden; a man without a wife is a desolate bachelor. Alas, people lost on the path are too muddled, practicing only solitary sitting in isolation, ending with qi depleted and withered.

[Commentary by Liu] The path of cultivation to achieve true realization requires Yin and Yang to be paired and like kinds to resonate with each other before one can refine the treasure of true spirit. If there is Yin without Yang, or Yang without Yin, it is like a lone blossom without its mate—the true spirit cannot be accomplished. It is also like an egg laid by a hen: because it goes against the principle of Yin–Yang union and the furnace and cauldron of creation, it can hardly hatch a chick. Again, how can a woman without a husband or a man without a wife beget offspring?

People in the world who do not understand the Way fail to exhaust the principles of Yin and Yang and do not investigate the root of creation. They act in confusion: some fix on emptiness alone, some cling only to regulating the breath, some visualize deities, some guard a single acupoint, or circulate the microcosmic orbit—all of this is solitary seated practice with only the Yin side and no Yang side. Such methods not only fail to benefit xing (nature) and ming (life); they actually harm nature and life. The more one cultivates, the more withered and depleted the Qi becomes.

Plain-Language Reading of Yuanqiao Neipian (Inner Chapters of the Round Peak)

【Li’s Commentary on “Gu” (Isolation)】

“Gu” (isolation) here means cultivating only the inner side and only xing (inner nature). If you rely on inner cultivation of xing alone, you cannot truly “establish ming” (life/vital destiny), because that leaves only solitary yin with no partner—so the “treasure of ming” cannot be born. It is like a hen without a rooster: she may lay eggs, but they will not hatch into chicks.

People today treat cultivating xing as nourishing qi, yet they do not see that the qi produced that way is really solitary-yin qi. If you want true qi not to dry up, true yang must be paired with true yang, so like attracts like. Ask yourself as a practitioner: have you obtained this “like kind”?

True yang refers to yi (righteousness); true yin refers to the Dao. When yi and the Dao are paired, you are no longer isolated. There are three layers: first true yin gives rise to true yang; then true yang pairs with true yin; then from the interplay of yin and yang arises true numinous, vast qi—how could that be as hard to “hatch” as a hen’s egg? The difficulty comes from going against the principle of yin-yang and the furnace of creation and transformation.

Yin-yang are husband and wife. The way of the sage begins with the couple and from that generates the ten thousand things; ordinary husband and wife follow the same pattern. A woman without a husband—solitary yin does not generate life—becomes a resentful maiden; a man without a wife—solitary yang is not nourished—becomes a lonely bachelor. The logic is plain, yet deluded people in the world are confused: they think sitting in stillness and cultivating alone can clarify mind and see nature and leap straight to enlightenment, with no talk of yin-yang pairing. They fear that day after day of sitting and practicing only walks the hall of stubborn emptiness and plays in the sea of extinction; in time, qi grows ever more withered and depleted.

Five

【Liu’s saying】 Pair yin and yang.

【Li’s saying】 Invert yin and yang.

On the rootless tree, the flower opens in a skewed position—leave yin-yang and the Dao is incomplete. Metal and wood stand apart; cinnabar (mercury) and fire separate (in usual neidan imagery: metal is xing, wood is ming, and xing and ming must join; if cinnabar leaves fire, the elixir cannot form). If you cultivate only solitary yin, it is like playing only in the middle of the sea—in time qi must dry up.

(Repeated lines or copyist errors in the middle do not change the main point: you cannot lean to one side alone; you must invert qian and kun and match yin and yang before the full Dao is satisfied.)

Rootless Tree (an internal alchemy image: a “tree” without fixed roots, standing for the human body and its spirit and qi): This passage says that the true Way requires yin and yang to be complete and to work together. If “metal is blocked from wood, mercury from lead”—that is, hard and soft are split apart, yang isolated and yin alone—it is like a blossom that has opened off-center: neither balanced nor upright, and the Way is incomplete.

[Liu’s commentary] It cites the Book of Changes: “One yin and one yang—that is called the Way,” and the Awakening to Reality: “When yin and yang find their kind and meet in mutual response, the two eights match and naturally unite.” Internal alchemy seeks precisely this mutual response of yin and yang of the same kind, matched and joining. If only one side responds and the other does not, or yang exceeds yin, or yang flourishes while yin is insufficient, the “flower of true spirit” is skewed and cannot be perfected.

Within the human person: true feeling is like metal, true knowing like lead—they belong to the firm and tend to sink. Spiritual nature is like wood, spiritual knowing like mercury—they belong to the yielding and tend to float. The essential method of practice is to lead feeling by nature and return feeling to nature, to govern spirit by the true and return spirit to the true, so firm and yielding respond and yin and yang unite into one qi, and the pulse of life endures without ceasing. If feeling does not return to nature and spirit does not return to the true, that is what the scripture calls “metal blocked from wood, mercury from lead, yang isolated and yin alone on separate sides”—unable to return to the root and restore the origin or form the elixir of true spirit (internal alchemy: the achievement of spirit and qi congealing—not external mineral drugs).

Look at how men and women pair in the world, bear children, and carry on lineages without end. Cultivating truth is also yin and yang joining: it can give birth to immortals and sages and pass them down generation after generation. The difference lies only in forward and reverse: following ordinary human relations is the mundane; reversing to refine spirit and qi is immortality. The crux is “inversion in the middle.”

This “middle” is not middle inside and out, nor middle above and below, but the place where yin and yang interact—formless and imageless, called the root of heaven and earth, the aperture of yin and yang, the house of birth and death, the gate of primal transformation; birth is here, death is here, becoming sage or worthy, becoming human or beast—all are here. The practitioner of the Way plants the feet firmly here, runs it in reverse, and amid inversion turns disaster into blessing and punishment into virtue—hence the saying that “within one double-hour the elixir may be managed to completion.”

Yet the “middle” is not easy to know, and “inversion” is hard to understand. Sexual-cultivation schools take the place of sexual union as the “middle” and taking a woman’s blood as “inversion”; qi-circulation schools take the Huangting acupoint as the “middle” and raising qi from behind while lowering it in front as “inversion”—all of this misleads and is not what immortals mean by inversion in the middle. Students should examine it closely.

[Li’s Explanation · “Pian” (One-sidedness)]

“Pian” means Yin and Yang each cling to one side and fail to meet in the central palace (zhonggong), so the inner elixir (Neidan) cannot be completed. When Yin and Yang harmonize midway, that speck of elixir qi like a “daogui” (knife-handle measure) can condense, and the method of cultivation is then complete. Metal, wood, lead, and mercury are all code names for the two faces of Yin and Yang. Here the text again highlights “essence of wood” (mu jing) and the meaning of “inversion in the middle” (zhongjian diandao)—students should clarify the difference early.

[Li’s Explanation · Matching and Reversal]

The essence of wood and the nature of mercury belong to Yin; the qi of metal and the disposition of lead belong to Yang. Essence and qi depend on each other; nature and emotion interact. Metal is drawn to the benevolence of wood, wood to the righteousness of metal; cinnabar goes to meet lead, lead comes to join cinnabar—only then is there no fault of “Yin and Yang kept apart,” and the great medicine can arise and the true body be achieved. If Yin stands alone and Yang is orphaned, each on its own side, Yin and Yang do not match—that is “pian,” incomplete. How then could the supreme treasure be produced and passed to later generations?

The principle of matching is much the same for immortals and ordinary people; the difference is only that ordinary people follow emotion and use things in the usual way, while immortals go against the prevailing tendency. Wuyuanzi said that “inversion in the middle” is hard to know; I (Li) add that this word “ni” (reversal) is equally hard to grasp. To understand inversion in the middle, one must first see the subtle use of “ni.” Once a person knows reversal, metal, wood, lead, and mercury all lie in this one method; Yin and Yang, Qian and Kun, are entirely turned upside down; every pass and aperture turns on the word “ni”—in an instant, obtaining the medicine and returning the elixir becomes a real hope.

Six

[Liu’s question] When does the medicine arise?

[Li’s answer] In the teaching that belongs to the Kun and Shen segment.

[Scriptural verse]

The rootless tree, its blossom fresh and new—its place of arising is called the “Kun direction” (Kun also stands for the person: the body, the mother’s womb, the southwest, and other images, depending on the oral formula). To pluck the flower and gather the heart of the flower, layer upon layer of stamens, bright as spring. Ordinary people do not understand the reality within “amid the flower”; a single line of the oral formula is worth ten thousand in gold.

Here the text borrows the name of the flower and speaks of the flower’s body; every line aligns with the Qiao Yao Ge (Knocking on the Yao) and is put plainly and truly.

Plain-Language Commentary

[Liu’s note] “New” refers to what was always there but long buried, suddenly showing itself again. It is like a blossom opening in a “new” freshness, light and color restored; or like the moon appearing in the southwest at the Kun position—in a place of pure Yin, a trace of Yang begins to stir. This is like the “empty room giving birth to white” in the heart: the true spirit appears, and one sees again one’s original face.

That original face is the True Person (Zhenren) who is inherently undying in oneself. Where there is a True Person, one is truly human; without a True Person, one is not truly human—that is the root by which heaven endows one with human status. Yet the True Person does not show at will and cannot be seen often; only when one reaches extreme emptiness and deep stillness (xuji jingdu), with every worldly tie stilled, does a form appear in trance-like vagueness. Extreme emptiness and deep stillness correspond to the image of pure Yin in the Kun hexagram, hence the saying that birth is in the Kun direction—and Kun is “the human.”

This “human” has long been buried under dust, with no trace left; once it appears, it is “new blossom,” and the moment must not be missed—one must act at once, pick it, gather it, and make it one’s own. “Picking the flower to wear” means picking the flower of the True Person; “gathering the heart of the flower” means gathering the heart of the True Person. Pick little by little, gather little by little, from few to many; accumulated depth lets light shine forth, the true spirit stays undimmed, then layer upon layer of floral stamens appear, every principle clear, wherever the mind goes each point is the Dao— as splendid as spring Yang spreading everywhere, blossoms opening on every side.

Yet this flower everyone originally has, everyone originally could see, yet everyone fails to penetrate it, often missing it face to face. Whoever does penetrate it—in an instant may leap beyond the mundane and enter sagehood—hence “one secret of the celestial mechanism is worth ten thousand in gold.” The Immortal Lord, in compassion, borrows the name of flower and makes the flower a body: it has form but no substance; line by line he “strikes the lines of the hexagram,” unfolding the meaning of the pre-heaven, originally wishing every person to complete the Dao and each to become an immortal. Alas, people of the time do not grasp the principle within the flower; some even guess wildly with “bedroom arts,” “inner alchemical work in the boudoir,” and the like—the Immortal Lord is helpless before this. Can one not sigh?

In Li’s commentary, Wuyuan’s explanation of the character for “person” (ren) points to the original face—the true nature one recognizes only after having personally beheld “this person.” That is why the passage runs long and feels so intimate: it fulfills oneself and others alike, with compassion unusually earnest. Even so, the meaning of “is” in “Kun is a person” has not yet been fully brought out.

At first the text likens a person to a flower, then in turn uses the flower as a figure for the person. When the blossom is freshly open, it is like someone who has reached the stage of returning to the root and restoring life: attaining emptiness, holding to stillness, and watching for the return of one Yang—before one knows it, spring is new again. The flower appears in the Kun position; that is “flower seen in Kun, person seen in the flower.” Where the flower arises is where the person arises, hence “Kun is a person.”

In internal alchemy (neidan), one “plants lead in the land of Metal” and “sows mercury in the field of Fire.” Metal and Fire sit in the southwest; there one “gains companions in the southwest,” and the meeting of Metal and Fire is right on Kun. This “person” is a golden body and a fiery body—a whole field of pure Yang: our own true qi (zhenqi), also called true feeling (zhenqing). “Dim and vague”—yet within there is an image: hot as fire, bright as a flower; the flower’s breath enfolds one, thick as wine, and receiving it one is as if drunk. Then one must pluck it and wear it—the moment must not be missed; one must also take its heart and swallow it in a single gulp. From the flower through the stamen, penetrating layer by layer—it is truly a vivid “spring palace.” Ordinary people know the outside and not the inside, so they cannot enter the subtle principle inside the flower. That principle is nothing but celestial mechanism (tianji); when tianji shows itself, one line of instruction can be worth ten thousand in gold.

The fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh lines all come from Patriarch Lü’s Knocking the Yao Song (Qiaoyao Ge). Fengweng said: “Patriarch Lü, using the human body, borrows the name of the flower; using the flower’s body, he makes the human body. I follow his Qiaoyao wording line by line, so that what is said is as true and flavorful as can be.”

Liu’s explanation: Seize the right moment to gather the “medicine” (in inner alchemy). Li’s explanation: Settle the mind before the “furnace” and enter stillness.

A tree without roots—now its blossoms are at their peak, lovely as if outshining powdered rouge. Guard against “ape” and “horse” (heart-monkey and idea-horse: wandering mind and desire) growing even more unruly; hang up an expressionless “iron face” that does not turn with circumstances; raise the true azure-dragon sword and pluck every blossom still bright on the wall. Catch the favorable wind, hoist sail, and return fully laden—how could one walk past a treasure mountain empty-handed?

Liu’s commentary in plain language

When innate true spirit shines forth, one principle can unfold into ten thousand forms; observe images and engage things in season, and nothing is outside “flowers in full bloom.” When flowers are fullest, essence shows outward and spirit tends to be spent externally; people easily compete for novelty and show off charm—hence “beauty and grace rivaling rouge.” At this time one must above all guard against danger: firmly tether ape and horse, hang up the unknowing “iron face,” raise the azure-dragon sword, forget emotion in the face of objects, and pluck every blossom on the wall that has just opened and not yet faded—never letting the slightest trace chase form and color or drain true Qi.

“Mother-given countenance” means the unknowing iron face; “azure-dragon sword” means unstained, unattached true nature. Iron face and azure sword share one source but differ in name: as substance it is the mother-given iron face; in function it is the azure-dragon sword. The iron face is settled being; the sword is the instrument of wisdom; from stillness wisdom arises, from wisdom stillness is completed—stillness and wisdom depend on each other, substance and function never part. Innate true spirit is form and emptiness at once, always responsive yet always still, without seepage or leak—this is “plucking every fresh blossom on the wall.” “Fresh on the wall” means just emerged, not yet left the wall, true Qi not yet dispersed; plucking then yields no impurity, only pure innate truth. Gather gradually, pluck gradually, receive gradually—until nothing remains to gather.

The great medicine is hard to meet, the great method hard to encounter; once met, the moment must not be missed. Riding this wind and sail, one must quickly pluck the fresh flowers and return full—how could one pass the treasure mountain empty-handed and leave regret?

Plain-Language Interpretation

“Flourishing” (fan) refers to the phase when essence and qi (Jing and Qi) are vigorous and brimming over. The “beautiful face and tender countenance” that appear within at this time are a metaphor for the pre-heaven single breath (xiantian yiqi). As the Immortal Elder says in Wugeng Daoqing (Five-Watch Daoist Songs): “When all yin is exhausted, the sunny season arrives—a single spray of spring color, the golden flower in full glory”—yin evil is spent, yang qi is at its peak, bright as a golden blossom touched with spring.

“Rivaling powder puffs” (sai fen tuan) describes the time of gathering the medicine and generating the medicine (cai yao, sheng yao), like flower spirits and flower demons vying in strangeness and splendor, each trying to outshine the other. The ancient immortals said: “Once the pre-heaven is revealed, medicine demons arise easily”—as soon as pre-heaven qi shows itself, obstacles and temptations in gathering the medicine are most likely to follow. Unless you have first brought the work of refining the self (lian ji) to genuine mastery—seeing beauty without the heart stirring, meeting temptation without the mind wavering—who could truly gather that “golden flower” (jinhua) in the brief span of half a watch? Hence what follows: “Guard against the ape and horse—they grow only more stubborn and unruly the more you guard”—you must strictly rein in the heart-monkey and will-horse (xinyuan yima), and they often become harder to tame the harder you try to control them.

Yizhi Hua Daoqing expresses a similar idea: however delicate the form, however slender the ten fingers, they cannot lead my will-horse and heart-monkey astray—only when heart-monkey and will-horse are held steady can one, in the season of generating medicine and flower demons contending in beauty, avoid being pulled by outer appearances and continue inner refinement.