《天乐集》Vol. 3

The scripture says: “I simply wait, moving the furnace fire to refine the Vacuum, seeking the light to break open primordial chaos.” It also says: “When the Vacuum is fully clear, form and appearance are utterly extinguished, yet the dharma-body endures without falling into emptiness.” Again: “Raise the Samadhi Fire of the circulating Heavenly Circuit, forge the Vacuum and return to Supreme Non-being.” And: “When the Golden Elixir is refined to the Vacuum, the body remains unmoved for a thousand years and ten thousand ages.” Clearly, in “Raise the Samadhi Fire of the circulating Heavenly Circuit, forge the Vacuum and return to Supreme Non-being” and “When the Golden Elixir is refined to the Vacuum, the body remains unmoved for a thousand years and ten thousand ages”—the move of Vacuum is utterly crucial. One must first attain Great Fixation before one can reach the station of Vacuum; only upon reaching Vacuum can one accord with subtle existence (miaoyou), so void and being merge in harmony and form and spirit both become wondrous. Thus the subtle purport of Great Fixation and Vacuum is the marrow of the Wen and Hua lineages and the arcane key to the nine returns and seven reversions.

The teaching of Great Fixation and Vacuum is indeed the heart-transmission of the Great Jiangxi School; traced among the sages of old, it truly springs from Zhuangzi and Liezi. When Huzi [in Liezi] speaks of “the Grand Pivot—none can define it,” is that not Vacuum? When Zhuangzi says “the Gate of Heaven opens and closes, yet none see its form,” is that not Vacuum? And when he says “when the cosmos is supremely settled, the light of Heaven issues forth,” “the Grand Unity pervades it,” “Great Fixation holds it,” and “no end or beginning, no few or many, no time or season”—is that not Great Fixation? As for “grasping the hub and dwelling in the center, thus following completion”—manifesting every dignified bearing without leaving silent fixity: that is the crowning affair of sage-cultivation. The teaching of Great Fixation and Vacuum in the Western Lineage was received in recent times through the oral transmission of Masters Lü and Zhang, and in remote antiquity through the mind-seal of the two sages Zhuang and Lie; it gathers the full accomplishment of the Wen and Hua schools and accords with our Buddha’s mind-gate of “true mark without marks, the treasury of the correct Dharma-eye.” It may be called the non-dual gate of Chan and Xuan (Daoist profundity).

Once you have grasped the essential point of the “void outside the body,” you may begin serious practice. The aim of the work is to make heart-mind and breath rely on each other, spirit and qi merge as one, and to place awareness in the emptiness outside the body. Depending on the method, however, there are direct and indirect approaches.

The indirect approach tends toward emptiness, stillness, and subtlety; it is not easy to fixate on physical form, and suits beginners better. Concretely: use the ears to listen to the coming and going of breath—breath moving in the emptiness outside the body, beyond the nostrils. I can hear this breathing, know it is there, yet do not tie thought to the fleshly body—that is the practice. The key is: lodge the heart-mind in the ear, lodge the ear in the breath, and by reverse listening let breath turn of itself, so heart-mind and breath stay together. The student should first sit in stillness for a month until the mind settles, then apply reverse listening; without clinging to the physical form, one naturally enters a subtle state.

The “direct” method is to place spirit-intention in the empty space outside the nose (the small square of void just in front of the nostrils), so that incoming and outgoing breath can naturally be felt. The alchemical classics call this “settling the spirit in the ancestral aperture” (An Shen Zu Qiao); they also speak of “concentrating spirit and entering the breath aperture” (Ning Shen Ru Qi Xue)—here the breath aperture likewise means that small square of space outside the nostrils. When spirit enters the breath aperture, breath naturally merges with it. The Cantong Qi says: “The true person hides in the deep abyss, drifting yet guarding the middle rule”—this too is the method of direct mutual reliance between heart-mind and breath (xin yu xi).

The “indirect” method: Zhuangzi says, “In silence, alone one hears harmony”—that is turning hearing inward to listen to one’s own breath (fan wen wen zi xi): in stillness, listening to each out-breath and in-breath, heart-mind and breath in harmony, called “hearing harmony” (wen he)—indirect mutual reliance.

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong’s golden-hoop staff is not stored elsewhere but only in his ear; when needed he takes it out—this also illustrates turning hearing inward to listen to one’s own breath and indirect mutual reliance: the staff symbolizes the moving point of in- and out-breath; using the ear-root to fully illuminate self-breath, so heart-mind and breath harmonize and spirit and qi fuse, reaching returning to the root and reverting to destiny (fu ming gui gen)—the unity of Sun Wukong’s essence and function. Hidden in the ear, it secretly shows breath regulation: taking the ear-root as the working gate.

In the Surangama Sutra, Guanyin attains the Way through the samadhi of hearing fragrance like illusion—turning hearing inward to listen to self-nature, nature perfected as the supreme Way; inner alchemy (Neidan) practice, by contrast, is turning hearing inward to listen to one’s own breath—breath and thought both extinguished as the entry; from concentration wisdom arises, by wisdom delusion is subdued—the meaning of “returning to the origin, nature is non-dual; skillful means are many gates.”

Zhuangzi’s “hearing harmony” and Journey to the West’s “hidden staff” both point to heart-mind and breath in mutual reliance; the crux is the practice of turning hearing inward to listen to one’s own breath.

The Xuanzong method for verifying cultivation is to place one’s xin (mind, intention, and awareness) and xi (breath) out in the outer void, and let them meet and return to unity there. The void stands for the image of the great heaven-and-earth and the innate Qian-Kun; heart and breath stand for the image of the small heaven-and-earth and the acquired Kan-Li. Settling heart and breath in the void so the two stay joined without parting matches the phrase “two layers of heaven-and-earth, four yin-yang”—what is called “heaven and human issuing together.” Patriarch Lü said: “Who can match the two layers of heaven-and-earth? I know how to arrange the four yin-yang.” The Cantong qi speaks of “the four hexagrams of female and male as bellows and valve, covering and holding the way of yin-yang”—that is exactly this work.

From mutual reliance, one gradually dissolves and melts away until one finally returns to emptiness. Laozi called this “returning to the root and restoring life; reaching emptiness and keeping still”; Zhuangzi called it “learning from Chaos,” also named “fasting of the mind.” Successive sages through the ages have all taken this as the central secret.

This method of “heart and breath relying on each other” was anciently called the Sun-Moon Merging Method. The character for dan (the “elixir” of alchemy) is itself a pictograph of sun and moon joined in one wall—sun and moon united.

This passage discusses a well-known method in neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation: “heart and breath mutually relying” (xinxixiangyi), which the ancients also called the “sun-and-moon union method” (riyue jiaobing fa). The character for “elixir” (dan) was originally pictographic: the sun on one side and the moon on the other, together forming “dan.” In Record of Wondrous Encounters at Sea and Mountain, the perfected Zhongli Quan, entrusted by the perfected Kushen Zhu, said that in time a person of “two mouths” would become his disciple (that is, Lü Dongbin, Patriarch Lü); if he obtained such a person, he would transmit the sun-and-moon union method. An old verse runs: “The sun shifts into the midst of the moon’s light—this is the adept’s foundational work.” Zhongli’s song says: “The southern star shifts into the northern star’s place; the golden crow flies into the jade toad’s palace.” (The golden crow stands for the sun and the jade toad for the moon—both are images of sun and moon joining and yin-yang meeting.) In later times some masters spoke of “concentrating the spirit and entering the qi cavity” and “settling the spirit in the ancestral aperture,” but mostly left it vague; without a clear teacher, there is nowhere to begin. Hence the perfected Ziyang in Awakening to Reality says: “Only because elixir scriptures lack oral instructions—where can you form the spiritual embryo?” Ancient worthies used the image of “a Daoist riding an ox backward” to illustrate heart-breath mutual reliance and reverse breath following emptiness (fanxi xunkong)—letting breath turn back into still emptiness. Chen Xubai’s Guide to the Center runs the whole teaching through the four words “heart and breath mutually relying,” which is remarkably concise.

“Reverse listening until only one’s own breath ceases” (fanwen wen zixi) is the most convenient entry at the very start of the Way: breath arises from the mind, and respiration is in effect the mind’s “wind aspect” (when the mind moves, qi moves). Turn outward-clinging hearing inward and listen only to your own breathing, until nothing remains but a single breath; spirit settles and breath settles too, breath empty and mind also empty. What had been outward-scattering movement is gathered into non-movement. Within stillness there is again movement—the return of the first yang (yiyang laifu)—the moment when “existence appears from non-existence” and the time ripens of itself.

To study the Way, you must first empty attachment to the dusty outer world and not be dragged down by things—only then can you truly benefit. To empty the dusty realm, you must first empty the mind-realm. Heart-breath mutual reliance is the excellent method for emptying the mind-realm: let the mind go out with the breath; you need not force emptiness—the mind naturally empties.

Ancient stories of people playing the sheng or xiao are really allegories for heart and breath working in harmony—when the mind does not wander but follows the breath, that is what “heart and breath mutually relying” (xinxixiangyi) means. In the Daoist tradition, Li Daochun’s Song of the Wisdom Sword, Lü Dongbin’s “Dao sword,” and Zhang Sanfeng’s “sharp-edged sword” likewise do not refer to an iron blade in the hand; they all point to using the heart to guide the breath, heart and breath never parting.

“Reverse hearing to hear one’s own breath” (fan wen wen zi xi): Instead of chasing outward sounds and states, turn hearing inward and simply be aware of the breath itself—hearing (awareness) rests in the breath, and the heart is no longer pulled by the “five dusts” of eye, ear, nose, tongue, and body. In the methods of stopping and contemplating (zhiguan), this is called “subtle stopping” (miaozhi)—a refined stopping that stops in the breath, stops in stillness.

As breath flows in and out, the heart naturally notices; having noticed, it does not follow with thoughts or restless movement—the heart stays empty and still. That is the “sword”: the wisdom sword, the Dao sword, and the sharp-edged sword are all images for the firmness that cuts through wandering thought and keeps unity in the breath.

Starting from the same “reverse hearing to hear one’s own breath”: when hearing rests in the breath and does not cling to outer conditions, that is subtle stopping; knowing the breath’s coming and going while the heart stays still is subtle contemplating; the spirit (heart) body empty and clear is subtle emptiness, and the breath (qi) rising and falling is subtle being; when spirit and breath harmonize and merge as one, that is subtle center (emptiness and being not two, the middle way).

Therefore it is said: following “reverse hearing to hear one’s own breath” all the way, the three contemplations of stopping, contemplating, and center are already complete—wakefulness (xing) and stillness (ji) blend, and stopping and contemplating advance together. To enter the path of cultivation through this method is the most direct and also the most subtle.

This passage explains how two lines from the Daodejing—“The valley spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female (xuanpin)” and “Continuous, as if present; use it without forcing”—apply to breath regulation in cultivation.

“Valley” (gu) paired with “spirit” (shen), and “mysterious” (xuan) with “female” (pin), are each spoken as one presence and one absence, one yin and one yang in mutual relation. That pairing is precisely what highlights the core secret of mutual dependence of heart-mind and breath (xinxixiangyi). “Continuous, as if present; use it without forcing” means to practice according to the method: neither forgetting nor forcing, letting opening and closing happen naturally, evenly and finely, in an unbroken thread—working with heart-mind and breath fused into a single qi. In the Cantong qi (Token for the Agreement of the Three), the four characters “when harmonized, they follow together” (he ze sui cong) express the subtlety of mind and breath in mutual dependence very clearly. “Continuous, as if present; use it without forcing” is the breath-regulation method of the Yellow Emperor’s line; “concentrating qi to utmost softness, embracing the One without leaving it” is Laozi’s line; “without sound, yet harmony is heard; true breath reaches the heel” is Zhuangzi’s line; “treading the void as if riding the wind (here, wind means breath), mind congeals and form is released (entering fixed concentration), flesh and bone melt into harmony” is Liezi’s line; “mind joins with qi, qi joins with shen (spirit), shen joins with the void” is the line of Kangcangzi (a disciple of Laozi). That much of ancient profound Daoist cultivation (xuanzong) in actual practice began from regulating breath is credible.

Mutual dependence of mind and breath is the single gate of the profound teaching; only through it can body and mind become one, and spirit and breath return to the root (shenxi guigen).

In the Xuanzong line of Daoist inner cultivation, heart-and-breath mutual reliance is the incomparable gate—there is no second path that can replace it. By this single method one can reach the states of body and mind as one and waking and sleeping as one.

How to practice: Place the shen (spirit, awareness) outward, letting it follow the breath naturally in and out; you need only observe—a light, steady holding of attention, which is what the Xuanzong tradition calls guanzhi zai (“observing at ease”). With spirit placed outward, moving with each exhalation and inhalation, coming and going, it naturally merges with the breath; this is what they call the ru lai zang (Tathagatagarbha—the innate pure heart-mind). Practiced over time, heart and breath both fade from fixation; ease and stability enter samadhi; samadhi deepens into clear stillness—that is what they call the sea of quiescence and extinction.

Another approach: Gather the ears inward and listen closely to your own breathing in and out; as you listen, hearing and breath become one, and breath returns to nothingness. This is the Xuanzong path of entering samadhi through hearing, reflecting, and practice.

One who has entered true samadhi no longer has breath going in and out; if the faintest breath remains, it is not yet true samadhi. One in true samadhi no longer has thoughts arising and ceasing; if the slightest flicker of arising and ceasing remains, that too is not true samadhi.

Heart and breath rely on each other in empty space: still yet not “utter void,” moving yet not “something solid”—this is the subtle function of zhenru (true suchness). Heart and breath mutually abide in empty space; stillness and illumination do not part, ease and wisdom nourish each other—this is equal cultivation of ding (concentration) and hui (insight).

Heart-and-breath mutual reliance is a wordless true scripture and an exquisite huatou (a living phrase for inquiry). It is a water-and-moon practice hall (appearance like the moon in water—present yet empty), samadhi of spontaneous harmony, and liberation while dwelling in illusion. It is a seamless pagoda, a hall of the empty king, a tree without roots. It is the Xuanzong walking staff and the Xuanzong vajra-king precious sword.

Han Qingfu wrote in verse: “In stillness I hold a stringless qin; softly I play a flute with no holes. One pluck—the world grows clear; one breath—the world grows vast. Breath after breath, pluck after pluck—all are immortal melodies.” What that verse displays is precisely the Xuanzong vajra-king precious sword.

This passage explains the principle of mutual coordination between mind and breath in neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, and how one may use the “void outside the body” to concentrate the spirit and enter deep absorption.

Han Qingfu’s poem says: quietly holding a stringless qin, gently blowing a holeless flute; one pluck and heaven and earth grow clear, one breath and heaven and earth expand; blow and pluck again, and it is all the music of immortals. This is a metaphor for “mind and breath depending on each other”—thought and respiration like qin and flute in harmony, without external things, playing within body and mind a realm of clarity and openness.

Zhang Sanfeng’s poem says: heaven and earth vast as a qin played thrice, breath harmonized as a single flute; if you wish to cultivate worldly dharma within yin and yang, you must still take a further step beyond yin and yang. The first two lines again express “mind and breath depending on each other”; the last two point to putting effort into the “void outside the body.”

Fixing the spirit in the void and thereby attaining a state of absorption is what is called “sitting in meditation within the spirit chamber,” and is also the essential point of seated meditation in the Xuan lineage of Daoist inner cultivation. Concentrating the spirit on the void and not clinging to the physical form—in the view of the Xuan school—amounts to “leaving home” without breaking the appearances of the world.

Alchemists take “the marvelous mutual fit of mind and breath” as furnace and cauldron. The point where the two marvelously unite lies in the void outside the body and is called the “mysterious aperture.” The Unity of Knowing and Acting (Xingming Guizhi) says: “The boundless void is the mysterious aperture; knowing without clinging is the work.” One may understand from this. Zhou Dunyi’s Explanation of the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taiji Tushuo) speaks of “the truth of the limitless (Wuji), the essence of the two and five, marvelously united and condensed”—here “marvelous union” is the alchemical “hehe” (harmonious joining); “marvelously united and condensed” is what Li Daichun called “mind and breath depending on each other to form the sage embryo.”

From the marvelous union and condensation of mind and breath, inner and outer qi mechanisms all return to peace—this is the deep meaning of Master Huizi’s “balancing the qi mechanism.” Entering great samadhi by this path is the practice Zhuangzi called “resting in the great equalizer.” The Shurangama Sutra reveals the six great elements—earth, water, fire, wind, space, and consciousness—as pervading and containing one another. The path of realization in the Xuan school is: mind united with breath, which is using the “great element of consciousness” to merge with the “great element of wind”; breath united with the void, which is using the “great element of wind” to return to the “great element of space.” When emptiness-nature is perfectly bright, one accomplishes liberation through dharma; consciousness turns into wisdom, and one realizes the patience toward non-arising of dharmas.

Ba Yujuan said: When breathing merges with “emptiness,” the “wind element” (movement, breath, and qi) is absorbed into the “space element” (emptiness and the subtle body). When emptiness is complete, luminous, and fulfilled, one attains “liberation through the teaching” (freedom from bondage within the path); when knowing turns into wisdom, one realizes “patience toward non-arising” (the steadfast capacity to abide in the truth that nothing is born).

Ba Yujuan also said: “A single phrase or half a sentence can unlock the profound principle—why read thousands of pages of elixir scriptures?” Patriarch Zhong said: “A few words are not many; the essence of ten thousand volumes of elixir classics is grasped in one sentence.” He also said: “One oral secret reveals what lies beyond the mundane world; heterodox paths vanish without a trace.” All of this points to the secret of heart-and-breath mutual reliance (xinxi xiangyi: mind and breathing stay joined and do not part).

Ziyang Zhenren said: “Thus one knows that the method of the great elixir is extremely simple and extremely easy; even a dull, ordinary person who obtains the teaching and practices it can immediately transcend to the sage’s realm.” Qianxu Weng said: “Ancient immortals’ elixir methods fill more than a thousand scrolls; the more you read, the more tangled and hard it becomes—once you awaken, there is only simplicity and ease.” Sanfeng Weng said: “The work of returning the elixir is utterly simple and utterly easy.” Chen Cuixu said: “It is all because subtle celestial mechanism hides within simplicity, scattered through elixir books yet not casually revealed.” The “simplicity” spoken of here means turning hearing inward to the breath (fanwen zixi: listening to one’s own breathing) and heart-and-breath mutual reliance.

Therefore Confucius said: “Even the most foolish among husband and wife can know it; even the least worthy among husband and wife can practice it.” This is the most universal and easiest gate of cultivation.

Plain-Language Explanation

In my early years, through fate I met Master Wang. He guided me in the practice of “heart-and-breath interdependence” (xinxi xiangyi), and only then did I truly believe that Daoist internal alchemy (Neidan) had a genuine transmission. What follows in this exposition will point straight at the oral secrets passed from master to disciple through the ages, and will bring into the open what for four thousand years was not lightly shared—chiefly because I cannot bear to see this great Way sink into oblivion with no one to know it. I hope those who aspire to the Way may cultivate and verify together, gain peace in body and mind, and have a real hope of extending life.

31. Heart-and-Breath Interdependence (Part Two)

In Daoism, one returns toward Wuji (the limitless) through “heart-and-breath interdependence”—that is the old tradition. What does Buddhism say? Answer: scriptures such as the Anban Shouyi Jing, the Chan Mi Yao Fa Jing, and the Damo Duoluo Chan Jing all teach regulation of breath. The Sanskrit anapana means “in-and-out breath”—that is, “observing the breath by counting” (shuxi guan). This differs slightly from Daoist breath-regulation methods: in typical Daoist heart-and-breath interdependence, one generally does not use “counting breath.”

The Tiantai school’s Liu Miao Men (Six Subtle Gates) also begins from regulating breath. The six gates are: first, counting breath; second, following breath; third, stopping (zhi); fourth, observing (guan); fifth, returning (huan); and sixth, purity (jing). When mind follows breath, that is “mutual reliance”; when reliance reaches its depth and one enters samadhi, that is “stopping”; when wisdom is present in stillness and silence and illumination do not part, that is “observing”; when “metal” (a metaphor for refined essence and qi) returns to nature and one turns back to the root and restores the original, that is “returning”; when the six senses are pure and both object and knowing are empty, that is “purity.” These can be cross-checked with Daoist language, but in actual Daoist practice the closest match is the Surangama Sutra’s teaching to “turn the breath back and follow emptiness, dissolve breath and reveal illumination” (fanxi xunkong, xiaoxi faming).

This passage cites two disciples in the Surangama Sutra explaining the “perfect penetration” (yuantong) method and aligns it with the Daoist notions of taiding (supreme stillness) and fanxi (returning/reversing the breath).

Udaka Pataka said: The Buddha, pitying my dullness, taught me to harmonize incoming and outgoing breath during the rains retreat. With one-pointed mind I observed the breath until it was finer than fine; even the arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing of all dharmas became clear in an instant. My mind suddenly opened into great unobstructedness, severing afflictions completely; I became an arhat and took my place beneath the Buddha’s seat, confirmed as one beyond further learning. When the Buddha asked which gate is most perfectly penetrating, by my own realization fanxi xunkong—returning from conditioned breathing toward empty stillness—is foremost.

Sundarananda said: When I first left home to follow the Buddha, though I kept the precepts, in sanmodi (samādhi, meditative absorption) my mind was still scattered and I had not realized the outflow-free state. The World-Honored One taught me, together with Jīvaka, to contemplate the white at the tip of the nose. I practiced earnestly; after twenty-one days I saw the breath entering and leaving the nose like smoke. Body and mind brightened inwardly; the world seemed to open like a hollow clarity, as if of crystal. The smoky appearance gradually dissolved, nasal breath turned white, the mind opened and outflows ended; all incoming and outgoing breath became radiance illuminating the ten directions, and I attained arhatship. The Buddha predicted that I would attain bodhi. When asked about perfect penetration, I take xi xiao (the breath-appearance melting away), long abiding in breath until faming (radiant clarity fully manifesting), and that fullness extinguishing outflows, as foremost.

According to the author of this book: Xuanzong—in cultivation, reaching the samādhi of the profound principle—returns from “having breath” to “no breath,” entering taiding; that matches the aim of fanxi and xiaoxi (melting the breath). After taiding, practice goes deeper and the mind’s light surges forth; that is the look of faming. If the entry is the same, the results that follow will naturally align as well.

A Plain-Language Reading of Tianle Ji (Collection of Heavenly Joy)

From the Confucian tradition one can also trace the roots of ideas about regulating the breath. The Xiang (image) commentary on the Sui hexagram in the Yijing (Book of Changes) says: “Thunder in the marsh—Sui; the junzi (noble person) rests at ease as dusk approaches.” This is the method of breath regulation that Confucius taught: when evening draws near, settle down and let body and mind grow quiet. The Zhongyong (Doctrine of the Mean) says: “Utmost sincerity knows no ceasing; without ceasing it endures; enduring, it manifests.” That is Zisi’s way of regulating the breath—when the heart is utterly sincere, breathing naturally lengthens without deliberate interruption, and in time signs appear. Mencius also says one should attend to the matter with steady purpose (“there must be something one does”) yet without clinging (“do not forget”), keeping the heart upright without forgetting, and never “pulling up seedlings to make them grow”—that is Mencius’s breath regulation. Sources also speak of heel-breathing, rest-at-dusk breathing, reversed breathing, spirit-breathing, embryonic breathing, and “non-ceasing” breath; at bottom they all turn on one aim: heart and breath depend on each other and advance or retreat together.

In cultivation, “hearing harmony” (wen he) means that inhalation and exhalation are extremely gentle; only those who have gone deep in practice can truly feel this “harmony,” as if hearing a consonant tone in the ear. Shao Yong called it “heavenly listening”—listening by the way of Heaven, listening to the breath of creation. Lü Dongbin said: “In stillness one hears a tune without strings; secretly one connects with the pivot of creation.” In quiet it is as though one hears a marvelous melody without strings, and thereby communes in secret with the hidden mechanism of Heaven-and-earth’s making. Qiu Chujiu’s Qingtian Ge (Song of the Blue Sky) likewise says: idly sing the white-snow song within the gourd, quietly tune the spring melody beyond the world—such tunes arise from nature itself, like a pipe without holes or a zither without strings, leaving no trace in form; thereby one startles awake to the floating life as a dream, while day and night clear sound fills the grotto-heaven. All of these point to the subtlety of “hearing harmony,” the opportunity of “heavenly listening,” and the secret application when breath regulation enters spirit.

In the Zhuangzi, it is said that the ancient perfected person (zhenren) who attained the Dao slept without chaotic dreams, woke without a troubled mind, ate without craving flavor, and breathed deeply and finely. The breath of the true person seems to rise from the heels, while ordinary people’s breath stops at the throat. This is precisely what heart-and-breath mutual reliance (xinxixiangyi—heart and breath working in concert) means: it is the test of whether such cultivation actually takes effect.

“Deep and long” means the breath is drawn out, light, and fine—not short and rough like most people’s. Do not take the word “heel” (zhong) as the heel touching the ground; it is a metaphor for heart and breath staying inseparable, like successive steps: the rear foot follows the front, the front follows the rear, step after step in one continuous line—that is the look of heart-and-breath mutual reliance, fine and unbroken.

Master Qianxu said: “From the heel” means heart and breath rely on each other and return to the root. Chen Xubai said: opening and closing, coming and going—the subtleties are endless. After practicing this way for a while, one must forget “qi” and merge only with shen (spirit), returning to primordial chaos; when emptiness reaches its limit and stillness is held in full sincerity, no stray thoughts arise—nothing coming or going, nothing leaving or entering—clarity abides constantly; only then is it truly the true person’s “breath from the heel.” Master Wang also said: one must sit steadily for two or three hours before it counts as the true person’s breath from the heel. Explanations differ in depth among schools, but in the end they all come down to this: only after long sitting in earnest practice can one enter Taíng—a state of settled spirit in harmony with the Dao.

Zhuangzi repeatedly discusses how heart-mind and breath depend on each other and stay in tune. In “Human Affairs in the World,” for example, he says: do not listen only with the ears—listen with the heart; and do not stop at listening with the heart—listen with Qi (vital energy). The ears stop at hearing sounds; the heart stops at aligning with the breath (keeping the same rhythm as breathing). In “The Great Ancestral Teacher,” he says that those who attained the Dao in antiquity breathed deep and fine; the True Person’s breath seems to reach the heels, while ordinary people’s breath is coarse at the throat. In “Letting Be, Having Existence,” he says: I hold to the “One” and rest in harmony. In “Heaven and Earth,” he says: in the place where there is no sound, one alone can hear and perceive “harmony.” In “Mountain Tree,” he again says the True Person’s breath reaches the heels and the crowd’s breath stays at the throat; he also speaks of being now like a dragon, now like a snake, transforming with the times, rising or falling, taking “harmony” as the measure. In “Gengsang Chu”: when you wish the heart-mind to be still, Qi naturally becomes peaceful. In “Tian Zifang”: seeing the breath between your nostrils as “xuxu” (gentle and alive)—why can your inner orientation alone be like this? The author uses “xuxu” to depict breath as soft, subtle, in motion yet extremely fine, with a sense of ease and quiet contentment; in describing harmonious breath, the wording could hardly be more apt.

Li Changyuan said: “Seek only the place where the true person breathes, and let the Maiden (yin essence, the image of Kan water) move back and forth in flight there.” Lu the True Person (Lü Dongbin) said: “One must seize the moment when wind and cloud meet and heaven and earth interact; one must seek the hidden harmony of the male and female phoenixes (Yin and Yang).” Zhang Sanfeng said: “Spirit meets across the body—the principle is explained in fine detail; in practice, heart and breath must be fully matched, each host and guest in turn.” All of these point to the deep meaning of “heart and breath in union.”

Heart and breath are a natural pair—not something forced by human effort. The profound teaching (inner alchemy) joins heart to breath so that spirit and Qi merge in obscurity and metal and wood unite; that is harmonious samadhi (the absorbed state in which Yin-Yang, heart, and breath are one). Every firing process (the timing and measure of ascent, descent, gathering, and refining in practice), every nine returns and seven reversals (the laws of returning essence and circulating the elixir within), minor and major circulations (Qi flowing through the governing and conception vessels and through the whole body)—even birth of the spirit fetus and transformation into spirit—all enter and exit through this samadhi.

Yet this samadhi must rest in dim obscurity and dark mystery, in empty nothingness and primal chaos, before one can enter the subtle realm; only then is it true harmonious union. Thus Guangchengzi said: “The essence of the supreme Dao lies in deep darkness and silent mystery; preserve emptiness and guard being, and success may come in an instant.” Heshang Gong said: “In vast silence and dim mystery the myriad subtleties open; in vague trance one can preserve the true aperture.” Luo Gongyuan said: “In trance and dark mystery, with no visible form or color, the true person is present within the pearl (the Dantian, the inner landscape).” Ge the Immortal Lord (Ge Hong) said: “Rise from within dark mystery; dwell in the midst of trance.” Patriarch Lü said: “From deep darkness and mystery, trance is born; from vague trance, a single mass (the elixir fetus) coalesces.” Immortals and true persons of old all escaped birth and death through this harmonious samadhi—no empty claim.

Worldly men and women mate according to Yin and Yang to beget children. Heart relying on breath and the wondrous union of Yin and Yang, by contrast, reverse the flow to become sages. Hence Cuixu (Chen Nan) said: “When jade frost flies in the tenth month (the sign of the elixir maturing), the holy fetus is complete and wind and thunder roar; in one year’s gestation one child is born—son begets grandson, and branches multiply.” The Surangama Sutra also says: “Body and mind combine and daily increase; having entered the Dao-womb, one personally receives the heir of awakening (the offspring of enlightenment).”

Wonderful! This harmonious samadhi is truly a compassionate ferry on the sea of suffering, a precious raft that carries one across to life.

In the “Entering the Dharma Realm” chapter of the Avatamsaka Sutra, Sudhana’s fifty-third pilgrimage to teachers reaches its fiftieth stop, where he meets the youth Born of Virtue and the maiden Possessing Virtue. They live in a city called the Gate of Wondrous Intent and Blossoms, and the dharma gate they teach is called Liberation through Abiding in Illusion. What they expound is again the deeper meaning of mutual reliance between mind and breath—the spontaneous, chance-fit entry into samadhi.

Notice that every wise friend Sudhana met before appeared alone; this time a man and woman appear as a pair. Is that not the image of one yin and one yang? What other emblem could there be for mind and breath relying on each other? “Gate of Wondrous Intent and Blossoms” is like Laozi’s “gate of all wonders” and “Gate of the Mysterious Female.” The character for “wondrous” also carries the sense of youth, of yin and yang joined. When mind and breath harmonize, two kinds of subtle knowing and mutual attunement arise—is that not “wondrous intent”?

When mind follows breath like phoenix and dragon in harmony, they naturally resemble husband and wife; yet the man does not loosen his robe nor the woman undo her sash—they revere each other as spirits and love each other as infants. Is that not precisely “abiding in illusion”? Hence the name Liberation through Abiding in Illusion. Cultivation continues until great samadhi, true samadhi: no going, no coming, neither exiting nor entering; inner and outer forgotten, body and mind stilled; empty silence without support—this is called “non-abiding.” From “illusion” one arrives at “non-abiding”; only then is the work of profound cultivation complete.

The Avatamsaka says that after the youth and maiden had spoken their liberation gates, they used the power of inconceivable wholesome roots to make Sudhana’s body soft and lustrous. The explanation: “soft” is the state when, through mutual reliance of mind and breath to a certain depth, the whole body becomes meltingly relaxed; “lustrous” is primordial yang qi issuing through the skin and showing outward. This is the same level of meaning as the Yellow Court Scripture’s “the body gives forth radiance, qi fragrant as orchid,” and Zhongli Quan’s “jade cream flows moist, giving birth to brightness.”

Patriarch Sanfeng (Zhang Sanfeng) wrote in “Song Presented to Li Yuanyang on the Hunyuan Immortal Path”: “Daoist Yuanyang is truly free and easy; to seek the Dao he left office as one casts off worn shoes. Eight years a widower, sleeping alone even in dreams; on cool nights an iron pillow, a cold quilt like a lone mandarin duck’s nest. His face and hair have turned white, yet in years he still holds vital promise. I urge you to seek Huangpo early—a ‘yellow crone’ who in internal alchemy stands for the go-between that harmonizes lead and mercury—and take a fair wife. Man below, woman above: Kan and Li inverted—water and fire trigrams standing for yin and yang; the male plays the female role, tuning spirit and qi. A gentle son-in-law to the Tiantai immortal maiden; a wife fair as Zhang Guolao’s own. Fair wife, tender husband—in the bridal chamber they forget heaven and earth. Nature and feeling interweave; nature and life walk abreast. In muddy turbidity, then the true heart appears; in dim vagueness, then the true intent is seen. This path of love is the first rung of your ladder to immortality; with a laugh, I pass it to you—signed in haste by Daoist Sanfeng.”

This piece treats ou xie sanmei (the method of harmonizing with a partner to enter samadhi) and huan zhu jietuo (abiding within illusion yet attaining liberation) so fully that it seems to leave nothing out and pierces the mystery with uncanny clarity—enough to make one sigh in admiration and feel there is nothing left to add.

After visiting Chan Master Shitou Xiqian, the layman Pang Jushi awakened and offered this gatha: “In daily life nothing is special—only I am spontaneously in harmony with myself. In each thing there is neither grasping nor rejecting; everywhere nothing is forced or out of place. Who needs the titles of red and purple? Hills and mountains are free of specks of dust. Supernatural powers and marvelous function—carrying water and hauling firewood.” He also said: “Mind is like the environment, and the environment is likewise—neither real nor unreal. When there is something, do not fuss over it; when there is nothing, do not cling to that either. Not a sage—yet thoroughly an ordinary person.” And again: “Mind is like the environment, and the environment is likewise—true wisdom arises from suchness. Samadhi and prajna equally adorn, widely expounding paramita.”

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang took “heart and breath in spontaneous harmony” as the practice of entering the Way; the Chan school takes “mind and environment in spontaneous harmony” as the wondrous state of verifying the Way. After breaking through the heavy barrier, body-mind and the world open out level and vast, fused into one. Forms, colors, fragrances, and the like are nothing but the Middle Way; raising the hammer or holding the ritual tablet all accord with the unborn. The myriad dharmas merge into the realm of self-nature; the teeming universe appears as in the Sea-Mark (haiyin). Hence the saying: “Mind is like the environment—neither real nor unreal.” Baizhang Huaihai praised in verse: “Apes cry on a frosty night under the moon; flowers laugh in the spring of the Qin Garden. In the vast red dust, every face is an old friend.” This is the marvel of spontaneous harmony in Chan. From heart-and-breath spontaneous harmony one verifies mind-and-environment spontaneous harmony—the Chan and Xuanxuan (Laozi) lineages run through on one thread.

Cultivation begins with xinxi xiangyi (mind and breath depending on each other): let thought and breathing work together without separating, then advance to shenxi liangding—spirit and breath both settled, entering a state of concentration.

When this concentration is sustained, body and mind become clear and still; within there is nothing, without there is nothing, and inner and outer both return to emptiness. This is called “yikong sanmei” (One-Void Samadhi—a concentration that gathers all in “one” and takes emptiness as its substance). The Six Paramitas Sutra says: “What is meant by ‘one’ is like empty space: the myriad things grow within empty space; when the bodhisattva’s true emptiness appears before one, faith, vigor, and other good dharmas all increase.” Hence the name One-Void Samadhi; it is also called “yifajie sanmei” (One-Dharma-Realm Samadhi—a concentration in which the dharma realm is “one” and emptiness is its adornment). The sutra also says: “What is called ‘one’ is the dharma realm; the dharma realm is also emptiness; because of concentration the mark of emptiness appears—this is named the One-Dharma-Realm Adornment Samadhi.”

The Huangdi shu (Daoist classic attributed to the Yellow Emperor) says: “Subtle, as if present; use it without strain”—this is what the Yellow Emperor called “ouxie sanmei” (Harmonious-Pair Samadhi—a method in which body and mind, breath and spirit, are paired and harmonized). It also says: “Spirit enters its gate, bones and marrow return to their root—what of ‘me’ remains?”—this is the Yellow Emperor’s One-Void Samadhi.

The Daodejing says: “Can you carry soul and body together without parting? Can you concentrate breath to softness like an infant?”—this is Laozi’s Harmonious-Pair Samadhi. It also says: “Return again to nothingness, return again to the limitless; I alone am tranquil, not yet showing signs, like an infant not yet a child; vast as a valley, silent as if with nowhere to rest”—this is Laozi’s One-Void Samadhi.

The Nanhuajing (Zhuangzi) says: “Now dragon, now snake, transforming with the times; now up, now down, taking harmony as measure”—this is Zhuangzi’s Harmonious-Pair Samadhi. It also says: “Going out has no root, entering has no end; going out and entering—no one sees its form—this is called the Gate of Heaven. The Gate of Heaven is non-being; yet non-being has a non-being, and the sage hides within this”—this is Zhuangzi’s One-Void Samadhi.

The sages of old first entered Harmonious-Pair Samadhi, then advanced to One-Void Samadhi: outwardly they let go of grasping at the world, inwardly they freed body and mind; they shed form and had nothing to rely on, transcending things. This is the subtle practice by which the Yellow Emperor entered empty sameness, met Guangchengzi in person, and personally realized the faxing shen (the true body corresponding to the nature of the Dao).

35. Stages of the Elixir Path

In the Xuánzōng lineage, cultivation always takes xinxī xiāngyī—“mind and breath mutually relying”—as the root. The aim is to walk in person the path transmitted by Guangchengzi and to verify for oneself the subtle cultivation of the “body of dharmic nature.”

The sequence of stages can be divided into three passes of work: forgetting form and nurturing Qi, forgetting Qi and nurturing Shen, and forgetting Shen and nurturing emptiness. The Xingming Guizhi adds “refining emptiness to merge with the Dao” (a more apt phrase would be “forgetting emptiness to merge with the Dao”), making four segments in all—but one need not be rigid about the labels.

Patriarch Sanfeng said: in one moment of quiet sitting, that very moment still contains the work of refining essence into Qi, refining Qi into Shen, and refining Shen to return to emptiness. It is not only in the “ten months” [of the symbolic gestation] that this happens; one hour, one day, one month, or one year follow the same principle. When you sit, close the eyes, and preserve spirit, letting the mind grow still and the breath even—that is refining essence into Qi. When you return the light inward, gather spirit in the elixir cavity (dantian), and let the true breath come and go until inner stillness reaches its limit and stirs, and stirring reaches its limit and returns to stillness—with all the turning of the celestial mechanism—that is refining Qi into Shen.

The author’s view is that the stages of the elixir path can broadly be divided into three parts.

The first part is the preliminary advance. At the beginning of entry, one uses the method of mutual reliance of mind and breath so that Shen and Qi unite outwardly. Gradually they harmonize and gradually grow fine, moving from vague trance and deep obscurity to breath that seems to break off and a great, settled samadhi—this is called the preliminary advance. The preliminary advance is “complete” when one attains stability (ding), because every elixir method takes great stabilization as its foundation.

Plain-Language Reading of Tianle ji (Collection of Heavenly Joy)

Step Two: Right Practice (Zhengxing)

Counting from the point when breathing has ceased and spirit and qi have settled in great fixation, the sequence runs as follows:

• Seven returns and nine reversions, replenishing xiantian (pre-heaven); in alchemical classics this is called xiaozhoutian (small heavenly circuit);
• Once xiantian is full → stop firing and form the elixir → nourish the elixir;
• When the elixir is sufficient → practice the dazhoutian (great heavenly circuit);
• Obtain the great medicine → then perform seven days of dazhoutian work;
• Embrace the origin and nourish the embryo → embryo complete, spirit emerges → suckle and return to emptiness;
• At this stage one can divide the body and respond in transformation, utterly free in all ways.

Right practice takes return to emptiness (huanxu) as arriving home.

Step Three: Final Completion of the Way

Wondrous exhausted, effort forgotten; empty space shattered.

Purple Yang Immortal’s Self-Longevity Poem says: “Split off a child to ride the crane and go; empty space shatters and the whole body is seen.” This is the news of final arrival home.

The last move requires thorough realization of self-nature and the mind of first meaning; alchemical books rarely say this plainly—one should consult and unite understanding through scriptures such as the Surangama, Avatamsaka, and Complete Enlightenment sutras.

Mao and You and “Bathing” (Muyu)

Mao and You in elixir methods symbolize the image of Yin and Yang in balance; inner alchemy often uses bathing (muyu) as a metaphor. So-called bathing means ceasing, withdrawing, and no longer pushing the “fire” hard. The patriarchs said: once practice reaches great fixation (da ding), that is the season for bathing and gentle nurturing.

In elixir work, breathing with awareness is generally martial fire (wuhuo)—active regulation of breath and mind-holding; breathless entry into samadhi is civil fire (wenhuo)—subtle, undisturbed nurturing. When practice reaches great fixation, thought neither arises nor ceases, breath has neither in nor out; body and mind are both still—this is precisely the sign of bathing.

Immortal Master Ziqing’s Key to the Mysterious Pass sets bathing at the Mao gate as one barrier and bathing at the You opening as another. Longmeizi’s Verse on the Golden Elixir’s Verification on bathing says: “Refining the elixir is fundamentally a year’s work; two months are all about stopping the work. When the rabbit meets the first month of the year, stop; when the rooster meets the middle of the seventh month, finish.” This is metaphor spoken in principle; students must not cling to fixed years, months, rabbits, roosters, first month, seventh month, and the like as literal facts.

Have you not heard Patriarch Ziyang’s Four Hundred Words: “The timing of the fire need not follow clock hours; the winter solstice is not necessarily at Zi; as for the method of bathing, Mao and You are likewise empty comparisons”? Cantong qi also says: “Commit the will to return to emptiness; no-thought as the constant.” This is exactly the gist of bathing: nurturing the embryo of the Dao in no-thought and empty stillness, not “bathing to pass a gate” at fixed hours.

On the whole, nothing beats our lineage patriarchs’ direct pointing with the single character “fixation (ding)” as bathing—most straight to the point: once fixed, body and mind are utterly still; in that still fixation, primordial Yang can warm and nurture by itself, the embryo of the Dao grows naturally, without danger of collapse.

Thirty-Seven: Microcosmic and Macrocosmic Orbits

The names microcosmic orbit (xiao zhoutian) and macrocosmic orbit (da zhoutian) were not common in pre-Tang elixir classics. Master Cui (Cui Xifan) wrote Mirror for Entering the Medicine… (The original text continues here on how later generations used the “orbit” label to speak of circulating qi and the movement of spirit and qi.)

Plain-Language Reading of Tianle Ji

The terms Small Heavenly Circuit and Great Heavenly Circuit did not exist before the Tang dynasty. Neither Cui Xiyi’s (Master Cui) Ruyao Jing (Mirror for Entering the Medicine) nor Wei Boyang’s Cantong Qi (Unity of the Three) uses these two words. They only appear in texts from the Yuan and Ming onward. Once the names existed, every school elaborated on them in its own way. My view is this: the human body is already a small cosmos. Blood and Qi circulate; one day and one night complete one “circuit of heaven.” Alchemical practice takes heaven and earth as its model. The crux is to merge this small cosmos within oneself with the great cosmos of Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth). Only then can one approach what the Yizhuan (Commentary on the Changes) describes—aligning one’s virtue with heaven and earth, one’s clarity with sun and moon, one’s order with the four seasons, one’s fortune and misfortune with spirits and ghosts—and thus gain the opening toward transcending the ordinary and entering sagehood.

If we distinguish them, Small Heavenly Circuit and Great Heavenly Circuit can be understood in three ways.

First: the Small Heavenly Circuit is the circuit of Qi; the Great Heavenly Circuit is the circuit of Shen (spirit).

Whether Qi moves or Shen moves, both are accomplished in meditative stillness; only the depth of practice differs. How so? In the stage of refining Jing (essence) to transform Qi, one uses inner emptiness and stillness to draw in true yang from outside and bring it into the body. When true yang arrives, the whole body feels melting softness; softness turns to numbness, numbness enters chaos, self and things are forgotten, like a “living corpse.” Then body merges with emptiness and mind with void; the void of heaven and earth is the void of oneself, and the small cosmos of the body melts into the great cosmos of Qian and Kun. True yang that fills empty space and pervades the Dharma realm nourishes this body and mind— inward to the marrow, outward to the skin, upward to the crown, downward to the soles. What Lü Dongbin meant by “white clouds rise toward the upper gate, sweet dew sprinkles Mount Sumeru” is exactly the scene of Qi circulating the circuit.

Plain-language interpretation of passages related to the Tianle Collection

Immortal Ge (Ge Hong of the Eastern Jin, a major figure in Daoist internal alchemy) said: Li fire (heart fire, Yang) stirs like waves churning the great sea; Kan water (kidney water, Yin) rises as if ascending into empty space. Jade fluid (the clear fluid produced in the mouth or body during practice) irrigates the whole body, like tassels swaying gently in the “bridal chamber” (the dantian or the hollow within the body). The workings of heaven (natural creation and inner landscape) show themselves plainly—nothing among the ten thousand sounds (all noise and stray thoughts) can compare.

Cantong qi (attributed to Wei Boyang, a classic of internal alchemy) says: When practice never breaks off, true Qi moves like clouds and rain—continuous as spring rain soaking the earth, fluid as ice melting; it flows from the crown to the soles, then rises again, passing through the boundless, brimming everywhere in the “container” (within the body, around the dantian).

Master Sanfeng (Zhang Sanfeng, revered in internal alchemy and the Wudang tradition), in Daoqing ge (Song of the Dao and Love), says: When that single point (true Yang, a flash of spirit) is finally subdued and returns, the body becomes spring in all four seasons. A stretch of white cloud, a waft of fine fragrance, rain after rain making all things new. All day long, soft and unbroken, like one drunk; at ease, guarding only the spring within the “cave” (dantian or the still inner realm). Yin essence is stripped from the whole body until it turns into one block of pure Yang gold. Then breath seems to stop like a small death (as if breathing ceases, as in sham death)—only when everything merges into one is it true Quanzhen (Complete Perfection).

Longmeizi, in Jindan yinzheng shi (Verifying Poems on the Golden Elixir), says: Morning after morning smoke rises from the golden cauldron (dantian or the alchemical furnace as metaphor); when Qi is full, the “river chariot” (true Qi circulating along the governing and conception vessels and related paths) carries it up to heaven. Sweet dew fills the sky and nourishes the ten thousand things; one stream of spirit spring floods the long river.

All of the above are common signs and descriptions when Qi circulates the celestial circuit (true Qi cycling through the governing and conception vessels and related routes).

In the stage of refining Qi to transform it into Spirit, both spirit (Shen) and breath must be settled in the void. When pre-heaven true Yang enters the physical body and completes one circuit within it, the “master” (meaning the primordial spirit and true nature) rests outside the body, so the flesh becomes like an empty house; consciousness then leaves the form body and enters the void to embrace the master. When spirit is settled, Qi follows and settles too. Spirit and Qi settle together; over time Qi is fully transformed into spirit, leaving only a single commanding radiance shining clearly in the void—this is the verification of “fetal completion” (ta yuan), when the inner spirit fetus of Neidan is achieved. To enter the gate of great quiescence and complete illumination, take the emptiness of nature as the foundation, and integrate the “Six Realms” (the six aggregates of form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness together with dharmadhatu—or earth, water, fire, wind, space, and consciousness as aspects of dharmadhatu) so that the dharmadhatu of the Six Realms and my true nature are equal and undivided, with no barrier between self and other, thing and self as one. Then one can enter fire and water, pass through metal and stone, and manifest all kinds of inconceivable wondrous effects—all realms verified through the spirit’s circulation in the celestial circuit.

If one distinguishes by Qi circulation versus spirit circulation, there is the difference between the small celestial circuit and the great celestial circuit. The small celestial circuit is the samadhi of refining essence to transform Qi; the great celestial circuit is the samadhi of refining Qi to transform spirit. That is one way the distinction is explained.

Second point: If one distinguishes the Small Circuit (xiaozhoutian) from the Great Circuit (dazhoutian) by the stages of “small restoration” (xiaohuan) and “great restoration” (dahuan), what is meant is the same circulation of Qi (vital energy)—only the phase differs, hence the names “Small Circuit” and “Great Circuit.”

Why is this so? In the xiaohuan phase, the body still follows the post-heaven pattern of Kan and Li (Water and Fire). When practice reaches xu ji jing du—extreme emptiness and stillness—one may feel the pre-heaven pure yang true Qi entering from without into the physical body, replenishing the loss after the “broken body.” One’s own pure yin draws upon that pure yang. When true Qi arrives, the whole body often feels tingling, numbness, or twitching. Each wave of tingling through the body is one steaming by true yang, one completion of a Small Circuit. Thus, by gradual gathering, when Qi is full one “stops the fire” (zhihuo) and may approach the state of a child’s body. Then the Li palace is filled and the inner body has become the qian (Heaven) image, wholly pre-heaven.

Then, with one’s own body as qian yang, one resonates with the qian yang in empty space; inner pre-heaven and outer pre-heaven echo within and without and gather together, merging inner and outer pairs of true yin and yang into dahuan. At this stage in practice, samadhi often lasts two or three hours or more; once in deep stillness, the outer qian yang and the qian yang within the body unite and one Great Circuit is completed—until the great elixir (dadan) is fully formed.

The “Small Heavenly Circuit” and “Great Heavenly Circuit” discussed here borrow the Neidan (internal alchemy) labels “Small Return” and “Great Return” to name two levels of practice.

Under the “Small Return / Great Return” distinction: The Small Heavenly Circuit belongs to the phase of turning post-heaven Qi (ordinary breath and acquired energy) back toward pre-heaven (primordial Qi, yuan Qi). The Great Heavenly Circuit belongs to the phase after pre-heaven, when one enters a realm “beyond pre-heaven’s pre-heaven.” Both are done in receptive stillness (deep trance with mind and breath united); both involve Qi circulating within the body or between inside and outside—the main difference is depth of skill. Effects on the body differ too: the Small Circuit often yields only outward signs such as darkening the hair; the Great Circuit may transform blood, bone, and marrow, even change the eyes, so the whole person is made new—what the Book of Changes, Hexagram Ge (Revolution), calls “revolution: discard the old, establish the new.” The Small Circuit aims chiefly at ease and longevity; only the Great Circuit can be said to aim at transcending the mundane and entering sagehood—that is the fundamental gap in depth.

Under the “small cosmos / great cosmos” distinction: The human body is a small cosmos; the heaven-and-earth great cosmos lies outside it. When practice reaches dim trance and oblivion, emptiness and primordial chaos (as if half asleep, inside and outside empty), and stillness is sustained long enough for yang to arise (inner yang stirs), yang Qi opens the hundred vessels, and yuan Qi (primordial Qi) turns within—rising to the crown, descending to the soles, one breath circling without pause, head and tail linked like a ring. That description applies to this small cosmos of the body, hence Small Heavenly Circuit. If stillness goes further, emptiness upon emptiness, the whole body softens, tingles, as if about to leap, then the eighty-four thousand pores seem pierced by qian yang true Qi from without (the pure yang of heaven and earth). At utmost emptiness, steadfast stillness (xuji jingdu), one subtly merges with the Great Void (taixu); the form body is already like vacuum, and qian yang true Qi from the Great Void soaks and permeates—inside and outside, above and below, without obstruction. That is spoken in terms of unity with the Great Void as great cosmos, and is called Great Heavenly Circuit.

Therefore, in the first scheme one should train the Small Circuit first, then the Great; in the second, one should train the Great first, then the Small. If you follow the “small then great” path, once the Small Circuit is accomplished you go on to the Great, and that completes the sequence.

The three explanations given earlier all belong to the level of doctrinal exposition. In actual cultivation, once one enters dàdìng (great stillness)—a state of deep quiescence in which spirit and qi are highly condensed—externally Qian and Kun interact while internally Kan and Li unite; the Small Circulation and Great Circulation run at the same time. It is not as simple as finishing the Small Circulation first, then the Great Circulation, and stopping when that is done.

The ancients said that inner elixir and outer elixir are the same, and that when the inner is open the outer must be open too. In Master Cui’s Mirror for Entering Medicine (Ruyao Jing), he writes only: “Pre-heaven qi and post-heaven qi—whoever obtains them is often as if drunk.” He does not split things into labels like Small Circulation and Great Circulation, yet in that one line he already wraps up the essentials of both circulations—nothing could be more concise. Students of the Way should keep this in mind.

The verse says: heart and breath subtly match; guard De-nature and harmony, and warm-nurture central harmony; true qi steams through the whole body, nurturing nature and extending life—as if laying a new womb and remaking Qian and Kun. Among the methods of proof in the profound tradition (Xuanzong), this gate is the most excellent.

(Continued in Question 38, “Passing the Barrier in the Great Circulation.”)

Plain-Language Reading of Tianle Ji (Collection of Heavenly Joy)

Practitioners who have finished the entry-level work of “drawing from Kan to fill Li”—using the yin essence of water to replenish the fire of Li and rebalance Kan and Li—and who have also received the oral formula for “stopping the fire” (knowing when the firing has reached its point and must not be pushed further) may then enter the stage of “forming the elixir” (jiedan).

After the elixir has formed, if verifying signs already appear, one still must not hurry. One needs further “nurturing the elixir” (yangdan), raising the elixir until it is fully mature, before one can practice the “greater celestial orbit” (da zhou tian). The greater orbit is defined in contrast to the “lesser celestial orbit” (xiao zhou tian) of the entry stage, in which qi makes a shorter circuit through the Ren and Du channels.

The entry stage is the return from post-heaven to pre-heaven: the wholly yin body attunes to pure yang. At this step the inner body has already become the “Qian body” (the purely yang form); one then uses one’s own Qian yang to resonate with the Qian yang in empty space. When the two layers of pre-heaven within and without unite, one achieves the “great returning elixir” (da huan dan)—that is the greater celestial orbit.

The foundation of the practice is still “heart and breath mutually relying” (xin xi xiang yi)—mind and breathing restraining and advancing together. In this state, often after only three or five breaths one can enter “great stillness” (tai ding).

In stillness, empty space has no “self”: one forgets things and feelings, forgets mind and realm, forgets inside and outside—one’s own pre-heaven emptiness merges with the emptiness of heaven and earth, and one lets it unfold naturally.

When emptiness reaches its extreme, the pre-heaven pure yang true qi within the body will of itself break through the passes and pierce the crown, rising along the Du channel—what Patriarch Lü called “white clouds ascending to the upper gate”; then it descends along the Ren channel—what he called “sweet dew sprinkling Mount Sumeru.”

At this stage of cultivation, one must also understand the three kinds of “fire phases”—the timing and intensity with which one adjusts mind-intention and breath in elixir work. Since ancient times, those who attained immortality have transmitted the essentials mouth to ear and heart to heart, not committing the crucial points to writing. The Awakening to Reality (Wuzhen pian) says: “Treatises, scriptures, and songs may speak of utmost truth, yet the true fire phases are not set down in writing. To know where the secret formulas open the mysterious pass, one must discuss them in detail with an immortal, as if face to face”—though covenant scriptures, discourses, and verse can reach the real meaning, the actual fire phases are not conveniently put into words; to penetrate the barrier gate, one still needs guidance like a careful talk with an immortal.

When practice reaches the corresponding stage, one may feel heat churning in the lower abdomen, as when the “Great Medicine” (the condensation of essence and qi from inner refinement) is about to form. Then there is a stretch of work lasting about seven days, corresponding to one step in the “Great Heavenly Circulation” (the large cycle in which essence and qi flow along the Ren and Du channels and related circuits). At this time it is best to have two or three “external guardians”—companions who watch over and protect one from outside. Withdraw to a quiet, secluded place, far from chickens, dogs, and human noise. If the student of the Way has guardians managing food and drink, standing watch day and night outside and reminding one at any moment, the mind stays clear; when “demonic realms” (disturbances and illusory scenes in the inner landscape) appear, one does not follow them, avoiding mishaps—this is the most vital move.

When outer conditions are complete, one may advance day and night together to achieve the “Great Return” (successful restoration of the elixir). After a few more days of work, the Great Medicine will arise on its own.

The Great Medicine also has signs. A poem in the Awakening to Reality says: “Divine work and tending the fire is not finished in a single morning; a round sun appears in a deep pool”—refining with fire often does not complete in one day and one night, yet when within the inner scene a sun like a disk shows in a deep pool, that is the image of the medicine forming.

In neidan (internal alchemy) practice, once the so-called Great Elixir has formed, there are often signs one can observe and feel. A poem in the Wuzhen Pian (Understanding Reality) says that applying the spirit to “work the fire” is not something finished in a single night; when the work matures, it is like a red sun appearing in a deep pool—a clear image. Zhang Sanfeng’s Dao Love Songs also say that none of the various visions resemble ordinary things, and that single red light alone is what is most true; that red light symbolizes the qi of spring’s arising, as if there were fine dust on a bright windowpane, or as if a speck of pre-heaven elixir were suspended—seen from afar like grapes, seen up close like gold. Rootless Tree Dao Love Songs has the line: “Rootless tree, the flower is just red; when every red flower is picked, the tree is empty.” Hanxu Zhenren’s commentary explains that this “red” is the emblematic image of the Great Elixir; what the master wrote in Dao Love Songs and Rootless Tree all marks crucial points—one can grasp this passage by reflecting on those. It also says: when the red light appears and the flower is fully red, once the “red flower” is gathered in hand, the true elixir is already obtained; apart from this “red flower,” there is no other medicine to gather—all of this can be studied together.

After the Great Elixir has arisen, one must still guide it upward along the Governing Vessel and downward along the Conception Vessel. Only the ascent is especially slow; it often takes days of practice to complete that stretch. After gathering the “red flower” and obtaining the true elixir, cultivation enters this phase of circulation; the signs and “medicine-gathering” described above can all be read in light of this stage.

In internal alchemy (Neidan), once the so-called “great medicine” (dayao) has formed, it travels upward along the Governor Vessel (dumai)—the channel of yang qi running down the midline of the back—then downward along the Conception Vessel (renmai)—the channel of yin qi along the midline of the abdomen. The upward phase is often especially slow; sometimes it takes several days of sustained work.

During those days, the form body (se shen)—this flesh-and-blood frame—is hardest to endure: layers of mara visions (mo jing), disturbances arising from the mind, one after another, mostly phantoms spun out by the ordinary discriminating consciousness (shi shen). What matters most then is to sweep such interference clean with the contemplation of true emptiness (zhenkong guan)—seeing all as empty and not being turned by circumstances.

After the great medicine has completed one full circuit through the Governor and Conception vessels, the most perilous pass of this stage is crossed in relative stability. Residual yin in the form body is cleared away; only then can one speak of attaining the so-called vajra indestructible body (jingang buhuai zhi qu)—the body-and-mind state forged by inner refinement that is not easily broken by outer conditions. From there, if one single-mindedly nurtures the embryo in meditative stillness (chandding yang tai)—guarding the inner elixir in samadhi as one would a gestating fetus—one can go further to spirit egress (chushen): the spirit leaving the body or operating at a higher level, depending on lineage teaching.

This passing the great cycle gate (dazhou guoguan)—the final and most dangerous barrier in the great heavenly circuit—varies with skill: for the adept, roughly six or seven days after the great medicine appears may suffice; for those slightly less prepared, eight or nine days is common. Masters often say: if one seeks ascension (feisheng), one must complete the “turning back of the body” (fanshen)—in Neidan, the pivotal shift after the pass, from life-force to nature, from post-heaven back toward pre-heaven—within seven days of the great medicine’s birth; if one slips past seven days, one is mostly left with corpse liberation while seated (shijie zuohua)—leaving the form in dissolution— and true ascension becomes unlikely.

Perfected Man Ziyang (Ziyang zhenren), a major patriarch of the Southern school of internal alchemy, likewise said: among all phases of fire timing (huohou), this great cycle is the most treacherous; the alchemist should prevail in this single campaign—win here, and the road ahead steadies.

Perfected Man Sanfeng (Sanfeng zhenren) (Zhang Sanfeng) describes this great-cycle pass most fully in Treatise on the Testimony of Return (Fanhuan zhengyan shuo). In essence: refining this dragon-and-tiger great elixir (longhu dadan)—the great inner work figured as yin-yang coupling and water-and-fire in mutual completion—requires an utterly secluded setting, free from outer disturbance (tradition often speaks of “neither cock nor dog startled”—nothing human or mundane stirring you). The difficulty of the pass is like settling the realm in one decisive battle; here too one must win in one gate.

In his Returning Verification Treatise (Huán Huán Zhèng Yàn Shuō), the True Person Zhang Sanfeng (Three-Foot Zhang) describes the passage through the Great Heavenly Circuit in the greatest detail. He says that to refine this Dragon-Tiger Great Elixir (Lóng-Hǔ Dà Dān), one must choose a place of utmost quiet where even the crowing of cocks and barking of dogs cannot be heard; outside, knowledgeable companions in the Way must attend so that idle people cannot approach and startle the dispersal of the original spirit (Yuánshén). Earlier he spoke of “harmonizing with the light and blending with the dust” (hé guāng tóng chén)—living in the world without showing one’s edge, at peace with others—yet here he speaks of a “secluded place.” What does this mean? To refine the self (liànjǐ)—tempering mind-nature and subduing deluded mind—in the dust of the world, then to nurture the self (yǎngjǐ)—warming and tending the original spirit and storing essence and Qi—in mountain forests: that is “entering the chamber to begin the work” (rùshì xīnggōng), the moment when one truly takes up elixir refinement. To transcend the mundane and enter sagehood—is that a small matter? One must reach a state where not a speck of dust clings and ten thousand cares are utterly forgotten; the mind holds not the slightest attachment, and one severs the mundane world with a single cut, forever like a guest in a foreign land, with never again a thought of turning back. Hold to empty space to refine spirit (Shen), hold to empty stillness to refine nature (Xìng); the whole body—five viscera, sinews and bones, blood and Qi—gradually transforms into azure Qi. With single-minded devotion, refine the spirit until it is fully mature, able to take form and to be directed at will, shifting with thought like stars wheeling and the Dipper turning; keep nurturing until the whole body is smooth and without creases, like a spider. When the upper seven apertures (eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, and related openings) emit light and shine day and night, and the body is like the Grand Void (Tàixū)—vast and empty—that is the right moment before one may seek the immortal Way. When this verification appears—Qi full, spirit complete, and the “dharma treasure” (fǎcái, the inner resources of refinement) vast—only then can one refine the Great Elixir and truly be called a “elixir guest” (dān kè). When effort has reached its term, the season arrives of itself: the seven apertures bright, the three Yang open prosperity (sānyáng kāitài, the omen of rising Yang), the “spirit sword” (shénjiàn, the inner-Qi image of a sharp instrument) takes form; then, riding favorable water and wind, one kindles the fire—thunder crashes and lightning flashes—and only then seizes the outer heavenly mechanism, moves to capture and gather, and collects true lead (zhēn qiān) from outside the body, “marrying the dragon to the tiger” and “driving the tiger to meet the dragon” (nèidān terms: harmonizing Yin-Yang and the union of lead and mercury).

This passage explains the essentials of “gathering water and fire, copulating to form the elixir” in Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, and the bodily signs that accompany it.

Gathering and ascent

If one can, according to season and oral formulas, gather essence and qi so they do not scatter, with heart and breath calm and clear, one may lift the “gold” of true essence from the lower dantian (the so-called “sea bottom”), send it through the Jiaji pass along the spine up to the Mud Pill (upper dantian), then let it fall back to the lower dantian (here called the “crystal palace”) to meet the “mercury” transformed from liver wood. Often in less than half a quarter-hour, water and fire are already gathered in one place.

Bodily reactions

When true fire surges, the limbs and entire body may feel as if burned by fire or cut by a blade—almost unbearable; even the strongest person at this point can barely hold on by ordinary will. One must then guard against danger and worry about peril, and regulate body and mind with the “bathing” method so that water and fire achieve mutual fulfillment (shuǐhuǒ jìjì). In an instant the whole body may “pop” like beans in a frying pan; blood and qi surge and gather in the body, as if clamoring and heaping up inside.

Under the tongue and spirit fluid

Below the root of the tongue, left and right, are two openings: the left called the Cinnabar Well, the right the Stone Spring—the area of Lianquan; when these open with the bone channels, kidney water ascends like a spring that cannot be swallowed dry, with a flavor stranger and clearer than honey or sugar.

Signs at the very start of practice

Most marvelous is the moment one first enters the furnace: it is as if golden lotuses rise from the earth and precious dew falls from heaven; suddenly a bit of true mercury descends, piercing the heart with icy coolness; then a bit of spirit fire follows, gathering in the “Palace of Intercourse,” utterly calm and deep. The ears may thunder like war drums— in fact this is the violent transformation of the hundred vessels’ blood and qi; one must not panic. One must pace the net (tà gāng bù dǒu), hold the sword and hand seals (zhí jiàn zhǎng yìn)—this stage is most perilous; one needs methods such as three rounds and nine turns, subduing generals and summoning officers to protect the work.

Illusions and forming the elixir

In empty space one may see dragon and tiger coupling, heaven and earth in great harmony, sun and moon in mutual palace, or hosts of immortals and buddhas—all are displays when practice reaches this realm; one must not take them as real or cling to them, or one will be caught by outer devils. Only recognize one’s own original spirit (yuánshén); wait until mercury and lead unite—about three days before the “great medicine” is born; those three days are hardest to endure. The text again mentions tiger coupling, heaven-earth harmony, sun-moon union, still to remind: when visions appear, do not fix on appearances.

Brief gloss of specialized terms (as they appear in the text)

• Mercury and lead: Neidan metaphors—lead often denotes true essence in the kidneys, mercury often the original spirit in the heart or qi of liver wood; their copulation forms the elixir.
• Mud Pill: Upper dantian, at the crown.
• Jiaji: A critical gate on the Governing vessel, along the spine.
• Water-fire mutual fulfillment: A hexagram image from the Book of Changes (Yijing); here, heart and kidney intersect and essence-qi harmonize.
• Palace of Intercourse: Where copulation and elixir formation occur, often the lower dantian or a specific “palace” locus.
• Pacing the net and sword hand seals: Steps of the Big Dipper net and mudrās in Daoist cultivation and liturgy; here they also mean using ritual form to steady and protect the body.

When gongfu reaches this stage, various inner visions and extraordinary phenomena keep appearing. You must not take any of this as real, or you will easily fall prey to external demons and deviate into qigong psychosis. At this point you must fix your recognition on the Yuanshen (Original Spirit—the innate true nature and spiritual root), and let mercury (the spirit in the heart, the mental-spiritual aspect) truly unite with lead (the qi in the body, essence and vital energy). After about three days, the great medicine (the critical phase in neidan practice when the elixir is about to form) can emerge. Those three days are the hardest to endure: it may feel as if the whole world is a realm of evil—ghosts wail and gods howl on every side, killing intent and war-smoke rise from all eight directions. This is precisely what is called the great barrier, the pass where the Xuan Guan (Mysterious Pass) opens wide. Often nine out of ten people are frightened at this point; inwardly you must not give rise to terror. Although at this time the self has already transformed into spirit, that is still the Yin Spirit (a spirit formed from essence and qi, still of yin nature—not yet the pure yang immortal). The Yin Spirit is extremely responsive and can transform endlessly, creating all kinds of harmful illusions; how would it willingly submit? The ancients put it well: “Only when you master the six penetrations (the six kinds of supernatural perception—toward heaven, earth, humanity, things, spirits, and ghosts) can you escape birth and death; without the six penetrations, do not expect to attain the Dao.” Then there follow about thirty double-hours (two and a half days) of chaotic, undifferentiated state: qi flows through the whole body until it is full to the utmost; suddenly, alive and bursting forth, the sun-like flowing pearl (a pearl of true qi like the sun) breaks its shell and enters the mouth—myriad dragon spirits are all startled. This is the true Yang elixir medicine entering the mouth; only then do you truly understand “my fate is not ruled by heaven.” Ancient immortals said: only after this great death do you truly live; they also said: one battle and all under heaven is at peace—speaking of precisely this level of attainment.

This passage records Sanfeng Zhenren’s firsthand account of passing through the Great Circulation (da zhou tian guo guan)—among countless Neidan (internal alchemy) texts, this single piece alone lays out the essentials clearly. It serves as a practical guide for Daoist cultivation and a mirror for returning the elixir and reverting to the original root.

Our predecessor said: Under Master Ke’s lineage there was a disciple, Sun Jifu, who once went through this seven-day stage in person. The various form-body visions that appeared in his body matched what Feng Weng (Sanfeng) described in every detail—what is called “like being burned by fire, like being cut by knives, and like beans frying in a pan all popping at once”—is utterly real. Without sufficient dingli (concentrated inner stability) to hold the center at that moment, one cannot remain master of oneself.

He also said: Among demonic obstacles in practice, the hardest to dispel is sexual/lust demonic influence (se mo). If one has not trained lianji (refining the self—gathering the mind, nurturing nature, and subduing wandering desire) deeply in ordinary times, at this barrier one often cannot hold firm, is overcome by yin influence, and faces grave danger—not merely a setback in gongfu. Therefore at this step, those without deep dingli must not rush; later students must proceed with utmost caution.

Our preceptors said: “Tuotai (shedding the mundane body) means leaving behind the mouth-and-nose breathing of the ordinary physical body; shenhua (spiritual transformation) means fully refining away the post-heaven discriminating consciousness (shishen).” These two sentences are concise and complete—hard to improve upon—and they truly serve as signposts on the path of Xuanzong (esoteric/internal alchemy) cultivation.

After the practitioner completes the “Great Circulation” (dazhou), one must quietly nourish the Dao embryo (daotai), single-mindedly entering samadhi in a state that seems forgotten yet is not forgotten, passing through the gate of great quiescence and perfect illumination (daji yuanzhao). At this point the mouth and nose no longer breathe; the body relies entirely on the inner “primordial harmony” (yuanhe) to circulate on its own. After about six or seven months, even the need for food and sleep grows faint; through the twelve double-hours of the day, one often abides in deep samadhi. Continuing to this point for eight or nine months, the six pulses all cease, and only the original spirit (yuanshen) shines clearly. When the Dao embryo is complete and one reaches the utmost of vacuum and no-self, the Dharma body (fashen) can separate from the form body (shen).

Patriarch Lü said, “After the cold clouds disperse, a waning moon remains; when the ‘twelfth-month snow’ comes, one turns toward the Great Void”—this describes exactly this realm. The so-called “twelfth-month snow” is seeing six-petaled snowflakes swirling in samadhi; that is the sign of chushen (spirit exiting the body). The Surangama Sutra says, “When formation is complete, one emerges from the womb and personally becomes a Buddha’s child”—likewise indicating that samadhi is pure and mature, that one gives birth to the body of realization, and transcends the ordinary fleshy birth.

In sum: taking the absence of breathing as great quiescence samadhi is the starting point of tuotai and shenhua; taking the complete exhaustion of the yin of consciousness (shiyin) as the fulfillment of tuotai and shenhua. After tuotai, one must still embrace the origin and guard unity (baoyuan shouyi), so that within the Dao embryo a “grandchild embryo” (taisun) is conceived again and one can divide the body without obstruction—this is called warming and nurturing the infant spirit (wenyang taiying), also called suckling and nurturing (rubu). Beyond that, one uses samadhi true fire (sanmei zhenhuo) to refine the ordinary body; as days accumulate and gong deepens, form merges with the Dao and subtly accords with emptiness. Not only does the mundane body dissolve; even the earth, water, fire, and wind of the world one relies upon return and transform into the sea of nature (xinghai). Patriarch Zhang Sanfeng said, “Raise the Great Circulation samadhi fire, refine the vacuum and return to the Great Void”—he was pointing to this step.

Someone once asked: “When the great earth sinks level and emptiness is shattered to pieces”—that is the state of great awakening in the Chan school. Does Daoist cultivation (xuanjiao) have such a realm? Xuanjing replied: Not quite in that form. Did not Zhuangzi say: “The Gate of Heaven is ‘there is-not’; yet within there-is-not there is a there-is-not, and the sage hides himself therein”? Read this way, “there-is-not” (wu-you) is emptiness and voidness; to let go even of that realm of “there-is-not” is precisely the meaning of shattering emptiness. When emptiness is shattered, the layer of emptiness that clings to emptiness is also extinguished—this is the moment of sudden, open seeing of one’s nature. The Surangama Sutra says: “When even one of you truly returns to the source, the void of the ten directions vanishes and perishes.” In the “King Mu of Zhou” chapter of the Liezi there is the phrase “the transformer moved him, and the king seemed to perish into emptiness”—is that not the same import as the Surangama’s “perishing of emptiness”? When what immortals and buddhas realize tally, what difference is there? Hence the Perfected One of Purple Yang said: “Divide the child and ride the crane away—when emptiness is shattered to pieces, the whole body is seen.” Jade Toad Elder said: “Joyful, joyful—true joy; emptiness shattered to the finest hair’s tip.” Li Da Chun said: “Shatter emptiness completely and become great awakening.” Fan Yunqiao said: “Shatter emptience and be wholly at ease.” Elder Sanfeng said: “Breaking through emptiness is no small matter—gather it into the one grain of millet where the six harmonies unite.” He also said: “When Dao and virtue are lofty, the spirit advances further; emptiness shattered to pieces—at the side of the Dharma body.” Chen Cuixu said: “Returning to root and source is true emptiness; breaking through emptiness is the final settlement.” This is exactly the last move in Daoist practice: dispelling both emptiness and existence, relying on nothing whatsoever—only then does the pure Dharma body pervade the realm of dharmas; in every buddha-field and every mote of dust one turns the great wheel of the Dharma and enters the ocean of wondrous enlightenment fruition, unobstructed and perfectly fused—only then is the utmost of realizing the Dao.

41. Guarding Against Danger and Foreseeing Peril

Laozi said: “Treat the greatest calamity as you would your own person (take it seriously).” He also said: “The reason I have great calamity is that I have this body; when there is no body, what calamity do I have left?” The meaning is: because living beings cling to the view of “body,” they give rise to the view of “self,” and from that arise all kinds of attachment. If one can empty this illusory life, forget the physical form, and set down the burden of ears and eyes, then everywhere one may enter the Way—what calamity remains? “No body” means forgetting the physical form.

In elixir cultivation, “guarding against danger and foreseeing peril” is taught because those who study the Way cannot forget the body: they constantly cling and cannot let go, and thus invite all sorts of danger. When refining essence into qi (lian jing hua qi), if in the moment yang qi first arises one slightly fixates on the body and stirs desire, the pre-heaven true yang at once turns into post-heaven turbid matter, and in an instant there is the peril of leaking essence. When refining qi into spirit (lian qi hua shen), if one slightly fixates on the body, stable qi becomes unstable, and there is the disaster of “zoudan” (failed internal refinement, with spirit and qi scattering). When refining spirit to return to emptiness (lian shen huan xu), if grasping emotions are not yet released, one cannot return to the Great Void or enter the gate of perfect penetration. In supreme Way-mastery, any slight lingering attachment is not yet thorough completion; attachment to the “body view” must especially be cast off. Master Tan’s Book of Transformation (Huashu) reveals the work of the three passes, taking forgetting the form as the entry—this meaning may be consulted here. The Immortals’ Mirror (Shenxian Jian) records the Dark Emperor’s ascent at Sheshen Cliff below Wudang Mountain—within that account lie deeper meanings worth pondering.

The Yinfu Jing says: “When the noble person obtains it, they can stabilize themselves; when the petty person obtains it, they will lightly throw away their life.” The difference between “noble” and “petty” here turns on whether one can forget the form (wang xing)—whether one can stop treating the physical body as the center of practice. Those who cannot forget the form find every step perilous; once one can release attachment to this body, every step becomes steady instead.

The pre-heaven (xiantian) teaching holds that when the heart stirs or a thought arises, one has already strayed from the Great Dao (Dao); how much more so when one still clings to this physical body. In those years my master once told me: “Outwardly, do not cling to the physical form; inwardly, do not raise a single thought.” These two lines are precisely the essentials of forgetting the form and relinquishing the body, and also a guide for guarding against danger and foreseeing peril.

Appendix: Master Wang’s Letter to Meng Haoquan of Tianjin

Dear disciple Meng Haoquan, as if face to face: I write in reply. In your recent letter you mention outer yang arising (wai yang sheng); having looked into it, I do not take it to heart either.

Vernacular Interpretation of Tianle Ji

Dear younger brother HaO Quan, receiving your letter is like meeting in person:

In your last letter you mentioned “external yang arising.” After reading it, I did not take it especially to heart. On the path of the Golden Elixir, what matters most is pre-heaven (xiantian)—not post-heaven (houtian). Reaching the stage of “yang arising” counts at most as glimpsing a minor sign of progress.

Your letter of the nineteenth left me both pleased and vexed.

What pleased me: You wrote that “the breath has stilled and settled, and breathing has ceased.” That is a major sign of pre-heaven. Gathering the true seed, advancing yang fire, retreating the yin talisman, mao–you bathing, the microcosmic orbit, and the rest—all these signs are contained in those four words, “breathing has ceased.” Without hard, sustained effort, it is hard to reach this state. To obtain such verification is genuinely cause for joy.

What vexed me: You also said “the yang immediately reverses,” that “mind and breath cling together and you cannot assert your own will,” and that “suddenly you feel pulling up and down in the belly, like a bellows.” That is ignoring the master’s instructions and inviting serious trouble—truly vexing.

So in every letter I speak of renouncing the body, dying each evening, and learning to die, and I ask you to read Yiguan. Yiguan treats the Golden Elixir from start to finish: if even a hair’s breadth falls on the post-heaven physical body, it is “a hair’s breadth off, and the elixir will not form.” You did not believe me; let me clarify for you:

If it were not falling on the physical body, how would you know “the yang immediately reverses”?

If it were not falling on the physical body, how would you know “mind and breath cling together and you cannot assert your own will”?

If it were not falling on the physical body, how would you know “pulling up and down in the belly, like a bellows”?

Plain-Language Reading of the Tianle Ji (Collection of Heavenly Joy)

Alas! When this “leakage” happens, whose fault is it really? I will speak plainly: as long as heart and breath stay mutually joined, once you enter stillness and fixed concentration, everything you feel inside and outside the body ought to be the innate true Qi (vital energy), true Jing (essence), and true Shen (spirit). If there is the slightest clinging to the physical body (this ordinary fleshly form), the scriptures say that in an instant, in the blink of an eye, it all turns into post-heaven turbid essence, turbid breath, and shi shen (the everyday discriminating mind). Alas! Without leakage you cannot obtain what is genuine. That is why countless volumes on the elixir all teach you to guard against “danger.” What “guarding against danger” means is teaching you not to cling to the physical body. If you do not cling to the physical body, what danger is there to speak of? Laozi said: “Set the bodily self aside, and the self is preserved; forget the form, and the form endures.” He also said: “The great trouble is that I have a body. If I had no body, what trouble would I have?” Please ponder this again and again. In cultivating the Golden Elixir, can one not know that one must leave the physical body behind?

Furthermore, after you receive this letter, practice every day: keep heart and breath mutually joined, and always let heart and breath rest “outside the body”—not a single thought or sensation may settle on the physical body. When stillness deepens and breathing ceases, that is what the elixir classics call “entering fixed concentration” (ru ding). At that moment you must forget things and forget form, with no person and no self, like a “living corpse.” The longer the concentration holds, the more quickly the signs of progress often appear. If you notice “yang arising” (the sign that inner yang has stirred in practice), you must at once again practice heart-and-breath mutual joining “outside the body,” and again enter stillness, exactly as before. If on the physical body there are sensations like being cut with a knife, drilled, throbbing, pain, or itching, I still play the part of one “living corpse,” not moving a single thought—and naturally there will be no leakage. Practice another month or two and see how things stand. As for the “fire phases” (huohou—the stages and timing of the firing process in alchemy), so long as you do not cling to the physical body, everything will accord with principle.

Plain interpretation

All my life I have been least willing to speak of others’ faults, and I have never liked to boast of my own strengths. What Teacher Wang transmitted is only a minor method within xingli (nature-and-principle) cultivation—something to teach people how to harmonize postnatal qi and blood and to see for themselves what that comes to in the end. As for the “fire phases” (huohou) you ask about, you need not fixate on the physical body (the fleshly form); in the end it must accord with the Dao and respond to principle.

What Teacher Wang passed down is still a small method within xingli, aimed solely at harmonizing postnatal qi and blood. If you cling stubbornly to the physical body while searching for the dantian, it is like trying to drill for blood in a bronze acupuncture figure—the figure has no blood to draw, the effort is wasted, and you are still looking in the wrong place.

Please read carefully pages eighty and eighty-one in volume eight of Yiguan; you will then see for yourself where the dantian truly is. The above is respectfully submitted in reply.

Another letter (excerpt)

Dear friend Haoran, as if we were speaking face to face.

Let me say it once more, plainly. Laozi said: “When you let go of clinging to what is ‘outside’ the self, the body is actually kept in good order; when you forget the fetters of bodily form, form can long endure.” He also said: “The reason I have great calamity is that I have this body. If I had no body, what calamity would I have?” These lines already go to the limit and say all that can be said. Hence Patriarch Lü said: “Before you are dead, first learn ‘death’—then there is long life.” Patriarch Bai said: “If one is not dragged down by the physical frame, what is before one’s eyes is the Great Luo Heaven.” Other patriarchs who follow Laozi’s teaching are beyond counting.

Each time I receive your letter, I feel for you and am deeply concerned. Alas! If you mean to study the Dao, you ought to read the patriarchs’ books—so how is it that you are not yet familiar even with the works of the five patriarchs of our lineage, and have not even seen the twelve texts of the five patriarchs of the Southern School and the seven perfected ones of the Northern School? What you read is mostly those thin introductory booklets, with a belly full of allegory, symbolic language, and “fish-trap” expedients packed in so tight they seem immovable. If allegory and expedients were the Dao itself, then illiterate people through the ages could never have learned it—could they? Please think this over again and again: is it so, or not?

(The middle section is omitted.)

You must understand: though alchemical scriptures fill ten thousand scrolls and the names and categories run to tens of thousands, in truth there is only one thing—“mind and breath resting together.” That single “mind and breath resting together” is those ten thousand scrolls and tens of thousands of names and categories; there is no difference.

This passage comes from guidance on Daoist neidan (internal alchemy) practice. It teaches that heart and breath in mutual dependence—mind and breathing working together as one focus—is the root; one must not chase side issues in confusion.

Do not split them apart, as with a single tree: If you understand how heart and breath in mutual dependence transform, you have grasped the root; if you do not understand that transformation yet keep guessing at the trunk, branches, and leaves, it is like drilling for blood on a bronze manikin—root and branch reversed. Think carefully: root, trunk, branches, and leaves are originally one body—can they be separated?

Furthermore, reading your letters, I fear you may leak again (vital essence slipping away, practice going off course). Why? The earlier letter said: “Settle it with the three words ‘do not engage with it.’” This one says: “After a minute or two each time, I feel kidney qi (vital energy) stirring”; also “outer yang about to rise but not yet risen”; also “in stillness when kidney qi stirs, that is yang arising”; and you have piled much of the old sayings of Wu and Liu, the two true masters (neidan masters Wu Shouyang and Liu Huayang) onto labor on the physical body, the opposite of “do not engage with it.” The earlier letter also said: “Report any signs of progress as they come.” That is empty talk circling the physical body, paper practice—again the opposite of “do not engage with it.” Reporting like that, when the clear evidence in practice is heart and breath in mutual dependence and you still cannot recognize it, leaves me confused and without any firm handle. Without a handle, how can I guard this one method for you?

Five sheets in your letter—only the four words “numbness throughout the body” count as a report. Below that you drift into empty talk again. After reading this letter, reply soon: roughly how many breaths until vacuity and trance (the obscure, trance-like stillness), how many breaths until great samadhi (deep absorption). Above all, spell out those four words “numbness throughout the body”: was the numbness during heart and breath in mutual dependence, in vacuity and trance, or in great samadhi—and for how many minutes. Write that clearly; that is what reporting means. Then I can hold my own view and know how your practice actually stands.

Plain-Language Reading of Tianle Ji

Cultivation Reports

When the body feels dull, numb, or tingling in a hazy state—if that numbness arises within deep samadhi (dà dìng) and lasts for several minutes—you must write the experience clearly. Only then is the report acceptable; only then can I judge your progress and gauge how deeply you are applying yourself. If you only talk abstractly about the physical body or pile up words on paper, do not submit a single sentence.

Three Essentials of the Golden Elixir

The great path of the Golden Elixir has three stages: refining Jing to transform it into Qi → refining Qi to transform it into Shen → refining Shen to return to emptiness (Xu). What runs through all of it is heart-and-breath mutual reliance (xīn-xī xiāngyī)—mind and breath staying paired and never drifting apart. When heart-and-breath mutual reliance is truly in place, the main body of the elixir method is essentially complete. Each shift from one stage to the next is a matter of huohou (timing, intensity, and sequence in practice); only on that basis do the various names and stage labels make sense.

I am sending you one copy of Essentials of the Golden Elixir (Jindan Dayao). Read it thoroughly, then go through it again three to five times—or even thirty to fifty times—before you can grasp what I mean.

With best wishes for your well-being,

Respectfully yours,

Wang Hu

Third day of the twelfth month, fourth year of the Republic (1915)

Further: Letter from Wang Zhenqing

Dear Brother Haoquan,

Your express letter arrived the other day. When my father saw the few lines he wrote at the end, he was quite displeased. Yesterday he sat at his desk and began a reply, intending to answer you at once. Today another express letter came, and my father again…

(The original text here appears incomplete; what follows is missing.)

To Brother Haoquan

I received your express letter the other day. When my father read the few lines you wrote at the end, he was very displeased. Yesterday he sat down to draft a reply and intended to answer soon. Today another express letter arrived; my father is still not satisfied and has specifically instructed me to notify you by express: Please stop the practice for now—this is the most important and urgent matter.

My father says that at the stage your practice has reached, you must not let the slightest trace rest on the “color body” (attachment to the flesh and to outer form). You should know that after innate clear Qi (the pre-heaven single breath before heaven and earth were divided, formless and imageless) enters the body, if even the smallest fraction clings to the color body, it all turns into acquired turbid Qi (Qi turned turbid by post-heaven breathing, desire, and bodily form)—harmful and of no benefit.

My father points out that your problem lies in the word “testing” in your last letter. Pre-heaven and post-heaven differ by a hair’s breadth, yet error can stretch a thousand miles—you must be especially careful. In all things under heaven, benefit always comes with drawback; at this point in the practice, you must clearly distinguish pre-heaven from post-heaven and strictly follow the master’s words, with not the slightest self-willed deviation. After you read this letter you must pause and wait until my father writes again before resuming—this is essential.

According to my father, he went through something similar in his own day and corrected it afterward. It is a pity we cannot speak face to face; otherwise it could be set right at once. (The remainder is omitted.)

Respectfully, your younger brother Wang Yuchuan

13 December

Also: excerpt from the master’s letter

Haoquan, my worthy disciple, as if face to face. In former days I too passed through such a state and corrected it soon after. What is regrettable is that we cannot meet and talk in person; otherwise it could be amended immediately. (The remainder is omitted.)

Respectfully, your younger brother Wang Yuchuan

13 December

Also: excerpt from the master’s letter

The content is the same as the preceding excerpt from the master’s letter: the master says he once encountered a similar situation and corrected it; he laments that they cannot speak in person, otherwise it could be fixed at once; the signature is the same.

This letter from the Tianle Collection is addressed to the disciple Haoquan. In essence it says the following.

Dear Haoquan,

Reading your words is like meeting you in person.

Two things you must change at once. If you do not, you cannot succeed on the path. The first is treating dead words on paper as the Dao itself. The second is treating this flesh-and-blood body as the Dao itself.

In my earlier letters I explained again and again what xiantian (the source state before heaven and earth were divided) and houtian (human affairs and the ten thousand things after form has taken shape), fashen (the true self beyond form, united with the Dao), and seshen (this visible, tangible physical body) each are and how they are used. Think it through once more: if you cannot first let go of clinging to “I,” how can you speak of cultivating the body? If you cannot first stop taking appearance seriously, how can you speak of truly preserving form and spirit? Can Lao Zi’s words be treated as nothing?

I asked you to read the Yiguan (Unity), and you still refuse. Why? The Southern Five Patriarchs (one line of the five patriarchs of the Quanzhen Southern school) said: “Lead and mercury are not to be sought in the body; dragon and tiger must be sought in what lies beyond expectation.” Since lead, mercury, dragon, and tiger are none of them to be found in the physical body, you should see that the move “outside the body” is what matters. If you set aside the effort of drilling old books and old phrases all day and read the Yiguan, nothing in it need stay obscure.

Wang Chongyang, legitimate heir of Zhong and Lü (Zhongli Quan and Lü Dongbin), founder of the Northern Quanzhen line, wrote the Quanzhen Collection and opened his teaching with the three words “living dead person.” He left several hundred poems. I have copied ten for you; study them closely.

One: Living dead, living dead—you yourself bury the four falsities (the false body of earth, water, fire, and wind), and that is the root cause; when you have slept enough in the tomb you wake refreshed, split the void, and tread the dust to pieces.

Two: Living dead, living dead—do not talk of practice-fruits or root causes; at ease in the tomb as you wish, you win true freedom and leave the six dusts (the six external conditions: form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects).

Three: Living dead, living dead—today I tell you the great root cause; dying alone in the tomb is the true word; pillow to pillow, same coffin—in the end all is dust.

Four: Living dead, living dead—know the root cause of earth, water, fire, and wind; in the tomb you daily take the true elixir pill and replace the bit of dust in the ordinary body.

Five: Living dead, living dead—gaining death while alive is the good root; idle and still in the tomb, truly empty and quiet, you cut off the dust of the worldly realm.

Six: Living dead, living dead—“harmful wind” (here, the suffering of body and mind, a state like feigned death) was my earlier root; in the tomb this true message—like a white lotus rising from the water, how would it pick up dust?

Seven: Living dead, living dead—know that the five grains support the body as a root cause; in the tomb, seeing through the truth of suchness, eating earth, mud, and dung also “nourishes dust” (a metaphor for dropping attachment to pure food and clean form—once you see the Dao, you are not bound by appearances).

Eight: Living dead, living dead—sleeping by day, resting by night, you know the root cause yourself; in the tomb there is a true child who laughs the mud-clump dust within dust to scorn.

Nine: Living dead, living dead—within empty, empty, empty lies the root of emptiness; in the tomb there is often a scene of true emptiness; realizing empty emptiness, you do not become dust.

Ten: Living dead, living dead—living people with pearls and jade come asking my root cause; the realm in the tomb is the true family business—in the end, when the end comes, it all turns to dust.

The whole piece urges the disciple not to die on words and flesh: lead, mercury, dragon, and tiger are to be sought “beyond expectation,” together with reading the Yiguan and Wang Chongyang’s “living dead person” poems, to grasp the cultivation metaphor of first forgetting the physical body, then “dying” in the tomb and coming back to life—it is not literally telling anyone to dig a grave, but using “living dead person” to break fixation on life and death and on the body and names.

It is strange indeed: for the past month or two, every letter you send asks me for “visions,” for “proof,” for “clear understanding.” I have explained again and again: on the path of the Golden Elixir, the ancients called it “studying Hun Dun (primordial chaos).” Hun Dun refers to the state before heaven and earth were opened and before yin and yang were separated. In the late Zhou, Laozi said: “I do not know its name; I force a name upon it and call it the Dao.” People then also called it “study of the Dao.” Here, “forcing” a name means pointing toward a root that is “non-being” (wu-you)—a reality that cannot be named.

After the Tang and Song, true persons wrote books and often taught people to “study the dead person” (entering through stillness and forgetting the body, not chasing sensory phenomena). Tell me: can Hun Dun have “visions”? Can it have “proof”? Can it be “clearly understood” in words? Once you fix on visions, proof, and clarity, you have already fallen onto this post-heaven physical body (se shen)—using the servant as master without knowing it, taking the thief for your son without seeing it.

What does it mean to cling to “images” and treat language as the destination? Confucius said: “Xiang (image) means ‘resembling.’” Laizi (Lai Zhide) explained: “Resembling means ‘as if,’ approximate.” Yet you grip those approximate, “as if” formulations and will not let go. Ten thousand volumes of alchemical scriptures say: do not be bound by forms, do not cling to words—only you insist on clinging to images and text. Alas—you are grasping the trap and snare (quan ti, the tool for catching the rabbit), not the fish and rabbit (the Dao you truly seek)! I truly do not understand how one can be so confused.

Furthermore: what I asked you to report in my last letter was your question about “numbness throughout the body”—does it occur during “heart and breath mutually resting on each other”? In “obscure trance and vagueness” (yaoming huanghu)? Or in “great fixation” (da ding)? If these three are taken as answers in themselves, each is again trap and snare, not fish and rabbit.

What my last letter asked you to report were signs at the level of firing process outside the body and the pre-heaven Dharma body. Your reply said you cannot clearly explain inner bodily movement and stillness. I asked about what is outside the body, pre-heaven, and the Dharma body; you answered with what is inside the body, post-heaven, and the flesh. Alas—the two ends are already separated by a hundred million miles.

This passage is a sharp rebuke of a mistaken approach to cultivation: putting all effort into physical sensations instead of what the Great Way of the Golden Elixir demands—formless and imageless, never anchored in the post-heaven physical form (the flesh body).

Whether one speaks well or poorly, clearly or obscurely, if one still revolves around this stinking leather bag of a body, it is empty talk.

Again: starting from the bridge of the nose, the Yintang, the forehead, the eyes, then spreading to hands and feet until the whole body is involved—alas! That is still clinging to the stinking leather bag; to practice this way is disastrous, disastrous.

Again: in the first half, “I” is in charge—that is still attachment. Again: feeling kidney Qi spinning; again: feeling kidney Qi seeming to turn inward—every such remark still fixates on the stinking leather bag and makes things worse.

Again: the disciple, for the sake of experiment, deliberately breathes through mouth and nose—I truly pity you. The pity is that the work is entirely abandoned; and that is far worse than “disastrous.” You must stop practice at once—urgent! urgent! If you do not stop quickly, it is not Wang Dongting misleading you; you are misleading yourself.

On the Great Way of the Golden Elixir, results come very fast; if you go wrong, illness also comes very fast. In my day I received transmission from Ke Huaijing through Sun Jifu; at fifty-four he restored a child’s body in only nine months. I state again: when cultivation reaches obscure trance-like stillness, that is gathering (caiqu); when it reaches primordial chaos (hundun), that is internal union (jiaogou); when it reaches great ding (stillness) and breathing ceases, that is true breath, gentle fire (wenhuo), bathing (muyu), steaming and nurturing, warming and nourishing, and the like; when the whole body turns soft and limp, that is advancing Yang fire and retreating the Yin talisman (jinyanghuo, tuiyinfu); when the whole body goes numb, that is circulating the microcosmic orbit (xing xiao zhoutian). In sum, not one hair’s breadth of this should rest on the post-heaven color-body (the flesh).

Brief context: Here “stinking leather bag” stands for the ordinary mortal body. Terms such as gathering, union, bathing, advancing Yang fire and retreating the Yin talisman, and the microcosmic orbit are stages of Neidan (internal alchemy) inner work with Shen (spirit) and Qi, not sensations hunted at the nose, hands and feet, or through mouth-and-nose breathing on the post-heaven bodily form. The author holds that experimenting with mouth-and-nose breathing and chasing movement-sensations everywhere in the body amounts to abandoning the Way, hence the urgent advice to “stop practice at once.”

You insist on breathing deliberately through the mouth and nose and anchoring your practice in the “form body” (this visible, flesh-and-blood body). No wonder your eyes weep, your nose runs, and you sweat—illness has already set in. You must stop practice at once and not go on in error. If you still train this way, I cannot protect you on the path that works on the post-heaven form body.

You insist on deliberate mouth-and-nose breathing and tying your gongfu to the form body; no wonder tears, runny nose, and sweating—sickness is upon you. Stop immediately; do not keep practicing wrongly. If you continue thus, how can I shield this method of yours?

Besides, meeting me was also due to prior affinity; you have already endured such hardship and brought your practice to this stage. To tell you all at once to stop is hard on anyone’s heart—how could you easily accept it? Yet I do not wish to leave things half done. After repeated consultation between us as master and disciple, what must be done now is to stop practice first, turn around quickly, and read Yiguan (The One Thread) until you know it well.

“Read Yiguan until you know it well” does not mean I boast that my book surpasses the ancients. Earlier authors mostly take symbols (explain through metaphor and imagery) and seldom unpack symbols (spell out what the metaphors mean). You can no longer rely on books full of “having symbols” to awaken. Yiguan does not add a new symbol of its own; it specializes in explaining the symbols in others’ books, so you are not led astray by images. Layer upon layer, again and again, it teaches you to contemplate: the body outside the body and the body within, form body and spirit body (Fashen), pre-heaven and post-heaven. If you can read it thoroughly, nothing will remain unclear.

Or next year, in summer or autumn, find time to come to Shen city and read it carefully for five, six, or seven days; the year after is fine too. In any case, until Yiguan is read to genuine familiarity, there is no need to come to Shen—I tell you plainly. With this I close.

Also: a letter has arrived from Wang Zhenqing.

Honorable Brother Haoran,

I respectfully write to you. Over the past few days I have received four express letters from you in succession, and I have read through everything you described. After my father read them, he could not help but stamp his foot and sigh, exclaiming again and again, “This is terrible!”—how could the mistakes have gone so far? He instructed me to send you this express letter at once, urging you to suspend your practice for the time being and on no account to continue.

Yet I myself am still quite at a loss and can only ask again and again. It is said that your accomplishment in practice up to this stage is already rare and hard to come by—so why have pre-heaven (xiantian) and post-heaven (houtian) not yet been clearly distinguished? When in practice the whole body feels numb and tingling and ordinary breathing has settled—that moment when respiration is cut off—if there is the slightest attachment to the physical body or the slightest wandering thought, then all the true yang of heaven and earth that you sense will turn into post-heaven turbid qi, with great harm as the result. Sweat, nasal discharge, tears, and leakage all arise in that single instant, in that turn of thought fastening upon the body. This is the failure to let go of the body, the failure to “learn to be as the dead,” the failure to enter chaos (hundun). If one continues practice in this way, danger is inevitable; hence this urgent instruction to stop the work and read the Three Teachings in One thoroughly.

I offer a comparison: suppose a man past fifty still has no son, and each time he joins with his wife he first harbors the thought of wanting a child—in the end he still cannot get his wish. Yet those with many children, at the moment of action, have no such thought, and yet they often have children. The folk saying goes: “Plant flowers with intent and the flowers do not bloom; stick a willow without intent and shade spreads everywhere.” There is real principle in this. If the learner of the Way has the slightest attachment to the physical form, then all that is pre-heaven changes into post-heaven—not only is there no benefit, but there is great harm; one is far indeed from what is natural.

According to what my respected father (the letter writer’s father, a master in internal alchemy cultivation) said: Your practice is already very good, but sometimes you are held back by the se body (se shen: this physical body, the mortal frame). At this stage, however, huohou (timing and measure: the moment and fine balance of qi and spirit in practice—extremely subtle) is already very fine; you truly need a master’s oral guidance at every turn before you can grasp it in the heart.

When you came to Shanghai before, we only spoke for two or three days; changes at this level of huohou had not yet been discussed, and even if they had been, it would have helped little. In the Way, one must first reach a certain level, then be opened by the master, before everything can suddenly connect. So my father wrote in his letter: when it is convenient for you next year, meet again and talk for several days, and you can awaken all at once. If taking leave is difficult, do not worry—this is the crucial point. (The following lines repeat the same idea: meet to talk, no need to hurry.)

My father also said: In each of your letters you write things like “what o’clock I begin practice” and “what o’clock I stop”—that is mistaken. Xinggong (carrying out practice) should be natural: if you fall asleep during practice, you naturally fall asleep; if you already hold the thought “I must stop practice,” that is already houtian (post-heaven: acquired, deliberate mind, as opposed to xiantian, innate non-action). There is absolutely no rule of “wait until practice ends before sleeping.” Whether the eyes are open or closed—let that be entirely natural. In sum: one stirring of thought is houtian; one fixation on the se body brings danger—be very careful.

The day before yesterday your letter arrived again; after reading it, my father was quite displeased. Your younger brother has asked him to mark in the letter every harm of clinging to the body and to appearances, to send to you for study—it will be easier to understand; it is sent herewith. (Remainder omitted.)

Respectfully yours. Wishing you peace on the Way.

Your disciple, Wang Yuchuan, with deep respect

20 December

Also, letter from Wang Zhenqing

Dear Elder Brother Haquan,

Greetings: Last year I received your honored letter and took note. I replied in outline before; I trust you have seen it. I now respectfully write again with the full situation. (Continues from the continuation dated 20 December.)

Dear Brother Haonquan,

Last winter I received your letter and understood its main points; I also replied in general terms earlier, which I trust you have read. I now report the full situation in detail for your kind review.

At the outset of learning the Way, one must practice heart-and-breath interdependence (xinxi xiangyi): attend to each exhalation and inhalation at the nostrils with slight awareness, and place that awareness “outside” (without inward fixation). This is “do not forget, do not force” (wuwang wuzhu)—if you forget, spirit and breath scatter; if you strain on purpose, you fix on forms and stir “fire.” The student should be utterly natural: spirit and breath constantly unite, and rest outward; when sleep comes, let sleep come (sleep arises from heart-and-breath interdependence, and in sleep heart-and-breath still interdepend). Thus my spirit and breath (belonging to post-heaven yin-yang) are nourished in the outer void (belonging to pre-heaven yin-yang)—is this not “two heavens and earths, four yin-yang”? Once I merge with empty space, the heart’s light naturally shines downward and kidney qi naturally rises (after loss of primordial integrity (poti), ordinary people suffer heart-fire blazing up and kidney-water draining down). In this way, post-heaven yin-yang within the body naturally unite, without deliberate intervention; I need only hold fast to the master formula of “heart-and-breath interdependence outward” (that is, “Heaven and human jointly initiate”), and every sign in the body will arise on its own (that is, “myriad transformations take root”)—just what you, Brother, have experienced.

Going further: as heart-and-breath interdependence outward grows more practiced, more pure and clear, breathing through the nose may cease entirely and one enters samadhi (ding)—this is “ordinary breath has stopped; true breath appears.” Every pore of the body seems to breathe. At first one may feel soreness, numbness, or pleasant lightness in the limbs (reaching this is “circulating one circuit of heaven (xing yi zhoutian)”). After loss of primordial integrity, harm to the physical body differs from person to person… (The text continues with “over time, true breath manifests,” linking to “ordinary breath stopped, true breath appears,” explaining how with long practice true breath grows clearer and pore-breathing steadier.)

Plain-Language Explanation

At the beginning, some people feel soreness or numbness in the limbs, or a kind of ease and comfort (if you reach this, it counts as having “completed one circuit of the microcosmic orbit”). After the body has been “opened,” the harm done to the physical form differs from person to person; with long practice, the sensation of qi may run from the crown of the head down to the soles of the feet, with soreness, numbness, and pleasure throughout the body (if you get here, that too counts as completing one circuit; afterward sweet saliva may also appear in the mouth—swallow it naturally, without impatience). By this stage in learning, you must be especially careful: if at this point you fix on the physical body, or a single thought turns the wrong way, the harm can be very great.

Originally, from “heart and breath mutually relying” through to the stage of “fixed concentration,” the light of the heart shines downward upon itself, clear as the sun shining over all things and nourishing growth—truly without a speck of dust; only when I am one with empty space can I resonate with the true yin and true yang of heaven and earth and draw them into my body (that is, soreness, numbness, throbbing—that is “advancing the yang fire” and “retreating the yin tally”). If at that moment you cling to the physical body, or deliberately test things, the true yang drawn from heaven and earth through resonance will in an instant all turn into post-heaven turbid qi—with results such as seminal leakage, or transformation into nasal discharge, sweat, or tears, or blockage and illness within the body. That is why, as soon as my father saw a letter from my younger brother, he urgently ordered him to stop practice.

When practice proceeds from heart and breath mutually relying to the point where breathing seems to cease, stillness deepens into fixed concentration, and the whole body is sore, numb, throbbing, and joyful, you must throughout not cling to the physical body at all, and keep the “fixed” mind wholly outside (the intent should be deliberate yet not forced). At this time you must let go of attachment to the body as on “Cliff of Renouncing the Body” or as a “living dead person.” When inner and outer are emptied to the utmost and stillness is sincere, if at that moment lower yang rises, you must immediately do heart-and-breath mutual relying on the outside (it must be extremely quick—you cannot allow a turning thought), or the yang will flow back downward.

Plain-Language Reading of Tianle Ji

Through heart-and-breath mutual reliance (heart and breath working together without separating), I had already reached “fixation on the outside”—as the note explains: I was originally already in samādhi, with almost no awareness of breathing in relation to the outer world.

Later, when yang qi stirred and I felt an upward rush, I became aware of breathing again. I then immediately placed my attention “outside” while practicing heart-and-breath mutual reliance (the note stresses: do this very quickly, without an intervening shift of thought). In that way the rising yang does not shoot upward but turns back.

When I was originally fixed on the outside, I was forgetting things and forgetting self, no person and no self—everything left to its own course, so pre-heaven and post-heaven yin and yang each found their proper place.

In short: the Way of Heaven values naturalness; human affairs often force things. Students must let every step follow nature, and must not use post-heaven deliberate, contrived intent in the slightest—this is what matters most.

My father (or master) also said: In your letter you say breathing has stopped and nothing is under your own control—that is very good practice, and matches what the elixir classics mean by “let it be host and I be guest” (let “it” lead; I only attend, without seizing control). The pity is that at this point once you fix on the physical body (treating bodily sensations and form as real), things go wrong.

Also: when there is breathing, that is heart-and-breath mutual reliance (i.e. martial fire, more active); when there is no breathing, that is entering samādhi (i.e. civil fire, gentler). Properly speaking: mutual reliance should be done “outside,” and samādhi should also be “fixed outside”—“outside” means the area about an inch square outside the nostrils (not straining inside the nose or in the dantian).

Furthermore, my father repeatedly told you: you must stop practice for now. Your earlier letter said the whole body often twitches, and there is often rotating heat in the lower abdomen and at the kidney root, and so on—that shows you once tried something in the mind and got attached to the body, turning pre-heaven jing, qi, and the three treasures into post-heaven yin essence, yin qi, and yin spirit—three kinds of turbid qi causing trouble. For now you must treat this with the two words “purity and stillness” (qingjing).

I am sending you one fascicle of the Tai Shang Qing Jing Jing (Scripture of Supreme Clarity and Stillness). Read it thoroughly and practice according to its method. With steady persistence, inner blockages will gradually clear; only then should you advance to a deeper stage of work (much as one avoids strong tonics while wind-cold has not yet cleared, lest Qi be further obstructed). Please treat this with special care.

My father also said: I had already sent you one fascicle of Lu Qianxu’s Cesbu (Survey and Commentary) on the Xinyin Miaojing (Heart Seal Wonderful Scripture), and a copy of Chen Shangyang’s Jindan Dayao (Essentials of the Golden Elixir). To distinguish clearly between xiantian (pre-heaven) and houtian (post-heaven), these two books explain the matter most plainly. In his commentary, Qianxu writes: “The ‘upper medicine’ spoken of today refers to the pre-heaven realm—namely yuanshen (original spirit), yuanqi (original Qi), and yuanjing (original essence). Yuanshen is the spirit of the moment when chaos first opened; it is not the spirit of everyday thinking and scheming. Yuanqi is the Qi of when heaven and earth were first divided; it is not the Qi of nose and mouth in breathing. Yuanjing is the essence of ‘its essence is most true; within it is trust’—not the essence lost in sexual union and emission.” In Shangyang’s Dayao it is further said that the three—pre-heaven essence, Qi, and spirit—each have their name and each have their dwelling. Both books point this out at the very opening; read them closely and reflect.

Alas! For one whose body is already “broken” (who has already suffered loss such as through seminal emission), how could those three treasures still remain intact? From this one sees that the post-heaven se shen (color body)—this flesh nurtured by food and sleep—is no more than a stinking skin-bag. You must understand: the color body is a servant and a thief. If the student of the Way does not see this and clutches the color body in seeking the Way, it is like making the slave the master without knowing it, or taking the thief for one’s child without realizing it.

Furthermore, in your future practice, do not from the start fix on thoughts such as “beginning practice” or “closing and finishing.” If for even a moment heart and breath rest together (xinxi xiangyi), so much the better if you can fall asleep—use this to reduce the yin influences within yourself.

All of the above I earnestly submit for your discernment and realization—my deepest prayer. Truly, north and south separate us, and we cannot speak face to face, which I deeply regret; clasping arms in detailed talk must wait for another day. Now, by post, I reply especially. (The passages above were all written with my honored father, question by question as they arose.) Wishing you peace on the Way. Your younger brother, Wang Yuchuan, with respect. Nineteenth day of the first month, year five.

The letters above were all chosen from my humble compilation Separate Record of the Elixir Instructions of Master Tizhen, to prove the danger of zhuo shen (“fixation on the body”). In the first stage of refining essence into qi, the slightest fixation on the body at once produces sweat, nasal discharge, tears, and seminal emission; if, when refining qi into shen (spirit), the mind moves with fixation on the body, zou dan (deviation of the elixir / runaway refinement) is inevitable. The deeper the work, the fiercer the harm of fixation on the body. How marvelous are Master Tan’s words in the Huashu (Book of Transformation): “Forget the form to nourish qi; forget qi to nourish shen; forget shen to nourish emptiness (xu).” Three “forget” characters lay open the three passes— utmost! Utmost! Nothing can be added!

Forty-two: He Guang Tong Chen (Harmonizing the Light and Mingling with the Dust)

He guang (harmonizing the light) means hiding one’s tracks and sheathing brilliance—not parading oneself. Tong chen (mingling with the dust) means bending to the dusty world, walking and working with the crowd—not setting oneself apart as novel. Laozi says: “Blunt the sharpness, untangle the knots, harmonize the light, mingle with the dust.” (The quotation here may be slightly abbreviated.) He guang tong chen is, in neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, an attitude in the world of low-key forbearance and harmony with the ordinary without showing sharp edges—in both conduct and in how one applies the work.

Harmonizing light means concealing one’s tracks and reining in one’s sharp edge—not showing off before others. Mingling with dust means bending down to walk and work alongside ordinary people, neither striking out as odd nor standing apart. Laozi says: “Blunt the sharpness, untangle the knots, harmonize with the light, and mingle with the dust—this is called mysterious identification (xuantong).” The virtue of mysterious identification is what Laozi praises and what the Daoist line has handed down. Hence Patriarch Ziyang’s Wondrous Realization Scripture (Wuzhen pian) takes up that theme in a quatrain: “In cultivation, mingle with the world and harmonize your light; round when round, square when square. Whether you show or hide, advance or retreat, others cannot fathom you—who can see through your comings and goings?” Qianxu Weng’s Brief Preface to Wondrous Realization says: “A great practitioner of the Way harmonizes light and mingles with dust, hides the sharp edge and blunts keenness, keeps far from harm and preserves the whole self, is a great hermit in the marketplace, wears coarse cloth while holding jade within—square or round as needed, comings and goings beyond measure.” Chan master Yongming said: “Hide your traces and bank your light; practice in secret and apply it closely.” The Doctrine of the Mean says: “The noble person is harmonious yet does not flow with vulgar custom.” It also says: “The way of the noble person seems hidden, yet daily it grows clearer.” The Book of Changes says: “Beautiful withdrawal—holding to what is right brings good fortune.” Sages of the three teachings all value concealed practice and warn against display. This is not only wise self-protection; it is also a skillful means for guiding and transforming sentient beings.

The Liezi, "Heaven's Gifts" chapter, says: Liezi lived in Pu field in the state of Zheng; for forty years no one recognized him. When the ruler and high officials looked at him, he seemed no different from an ordinary person. Is this not a perfect example of harmonizing one's light and merging with the dust?

In antiquity Laozi served as Keeper of the Archives for the Zhou court; Master Yin served as gatekeeper at Hangu Pass; Ge Hong served as magistrate of Goulu; Xu Xun (Lord Zhenyang of Jingyang) served as magistrate of Jingyang—all of these are cases of true immortals who did not show their brilliance while in office. Yan Junping made a living by divination; Qi Nian herded sheep; Master Hu sold medicine; Chen Cuixu bound barrels; Sun Simiao practiced medicine—all of these are cases of true immortals who were indistinguishable from others in ordinary crafts and livelihoods.

In those days my master Tianzhi traveled back and forth along the Han River region. At the Eastern Peak Temple in Xi'an he met Patriarch Li Hanxu. At that time Patriarch Li was hiding within divination, mingling among fortune-telling stalls, reading characters to tell people good and ill fortune. Master Tianzhi also traveled to and from Hange, staying at Master Ke's shop for more than a year without revealing the slightest edge; everyone took him for an ordinary paper merchant.

All such cases are models of "mysterious unity"—merging with the Dao; they are also what Master Hu of the Zhuangzi called "Du De Ji"—the art of concealing one's De—and are sufficient to serve as examples for later students. The ancients said: "When the Dao rises a foot, the demon rises ten." Demonic obstacles and tribulations often arise largely because one shows off and thereby invites disaster. Therefore concealing one's traces, hiding one's brilliance, cultivating in secret, and not speaking of it are indispensable practices after obtaining the elixir.

The subtlety of "harmonizing one's light and merging with the dust" lies in outward form and conduct being the same as ordinary people, while inner cultivation is not slackened on that account. If one cannot hold to this, one easily attracts demons through exposure. Thus after the elixir, making concealment one's foremost concern is essential.

The subtlety of “harmonizing one’s light and mingling with the dust” lies in this: outwardly one can look and act like everyone else, while inwardly one’s aim is not the same—hence the ancients spoke of “harmonizing without being carried away.” “Not being carried away” means not being dragged along or led astray by every outer circumstance.

You may live among people who are unlike you, yet not become one with what is unlike you; you may move in the midst of sound, color, fame, and gain, yet not be stained by them; you may stand in a lofty position, yet not swell with pride because of it. Though you enter every gate of practice and every aspect of phenomena, you do not grasp or cling to any aspect of phenomena—this is what is meant by “the same traces, a different use.”

The Dongzong Baojing Sanmei offers a famous image: “A silver bowl holds snow; the bright moon hides the egret.” Taken separately, bowl is bowl, snow is snow, moon is moon, egret is egret—their kinds do not blur into one; yet in a given moment snow in a silver bowl is one color with the bowl, and an egret in the moonlight merges with the light—mingled yet each keeps its place, each where it belongs. Harmonizing light and mingling with dust means the same: sharing the outward track without losing the inner purpose.