《天仙道戒忌须知》

The First Article: Lost and Not Knowing Where to Stop.

Master Niwan said, “If one does not know where to stop, one’s resolve has nowhere to be established, and one’s actions will be confused and unsteady.” Elder Taixu (the Elder of the Great Void) said, “In studying to become an immortal, one should take the Dao (the Way) of the celestial immortal as one’s aim, for the Dao of the celestial immortal is the ultimate destination of immortal cultivation. Once this is understood, one will not be misled by the differing methods of earthly immortals, water immortals, and the like, and the work of practice can be single-minded and pure.”

The learning of the celestial immortal centers on cultivating the mind. Only by devoting oneself wholly to nourishing mind and nature does one know where one ought to stop. The mind of the celestial immortal is subtle and luminous, perfectly awakened, true and constant, and still. It is so vast that it has no outside, and so fine that it has no inside. Whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, the moment one departs from this state of mind, one should at once turn inward and illuminate oneself. If awareness comes even a little late, this is called “being lost as to where to stop,” and it is something to be guarded against on the path of cultivation.

One must understand that the so-called “my body” is not an independent and unchanging body of one’s own. Everything of the body is manifested through the wondrous functioning of this mind, and that wondrous functioning itself arises from an ineffable “wondrous non-being.” Only when body and mind are gathered in, one by one, and returned to their source can the body be made whole and firm and the mind made complete. This accords with what the Confucians call “received in full and returned in full.” To understand this and to restore body and mind accordingly is what the ancients called “the lesser knowing of where to stop.”

Even so, although the practitioner’s awareness and action both issue from the Principle of Heaven, one must still rely on conscious attention in order to remain single-minded, and so the discriminating notions of “person” and “dharma” still remain. If one can let go even of the distinction between person and dharma, moving in and out between emptiness and existence and abiding in clear, silent stillness, the ancients called such people “those of the class who deliver only themselves”—that is, the people of the celestial immortals. Yet this still cannot be reckoned as having reached the “stopping” of which the celestial immortal speaks.

The mind of the celestial immortal has many realms: some take their own person as a world, and some take the world as their own person; some take both person and world as a mote of dust, and some can contain within a single mote of dust worlds as numerous as hundreds of millions of millions of Ganges sands. Throughout measureless worlds, the form of the celestial immortal can appear before living beings—at times raising the great banner of the teaching, at times concealing or manifesting—instructing, exhorting, and saving both humans and non-humans, so that all may reach the other shore of the Dao, yet without taking this as a personal merit in the heart.

What the celestial immortal says and does seems not to issue from his own speech and action, but from the worlds that are manifested; and the living beings in each world likewise seem to speak and act each from their own original mind, having nothing to do with the celestial immortal himself. Only when one reaches this state of mind, free of attachment to one’s own doings, does it count as genuine. Cultivating in this way—diligent and unceasing, yet not attached to any place of stopping—the more one returns to the source, the brighter the mind becomes; the more purely and singly one cultivates, the more subtle the mind becomes. This is the state of mind of the celestial immortal of the Daluo Heaven. To understand this aim and to establish one’s resolve upon it is called “the unsurpassed great knowing of where to stop.” What has been said above uses cultivation in the tradition of nature to assist the work of life. The Dao of life, without a foundation in mind and nature, cannot be established; that is why this is explained in detail first.

The essential point of refining life—cultivating the root of life—is that the endpoint is always the complete dissipation of Yin Qi and the pure harmony of Yang Qi (Yin-Yang). Spiritual powers, ascension in flight, and the like are not discussed here. The objects involved in cultivation are called Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). My teacher told me that Jing includes Pre-Heaven Jing and Post-Heaven Jing (xiantian and houtian), and that Shen and Qi likewise each have a Pre-Heaven and a Post-Heaven aspect; every kind of cultivation has a definite sequence and a method for reaching the endpoint.

First, Post-Heaven Jing. It has form and substance. It looks like Jing, yet it is not truly Jing; it is matter transformed from food and drink. Before it has passed through the Crimson Palace (Jianggong—the region between the heart and the chest, an important site in the terminology of cultivation) and been transformed into blood, it spreads among the four limbs and the viscera. If it is not first put through a course of refining at the Sea Bottom (Haidi—the cultivation site below the lower Dantian (energy center)), it cannot turn into ordinary Qi and then, following the Qi, rise to the brain and descend to the heart, transform into fluids and blood, and finally reach the kidneys. After that it must still rise to the navel to be harmonized, then travel with the Qi to the Sea Bottom to continue the great refining. If it still cannot be transformed into Qi, how could it rise to the brain and become Jade Liquid (Yuye—a cultivation term for the clear, moistening fluid gained through practice)? If, in refining this Jing that has form and substance, one does not apply effort according to this sequence, one does not understand how it ought to be refined to the endpoint. To stop midway, before it has been refined into Jade Liquid, cannot be called understanding the endpoint either.

Next is Pre-Heaven Jing, that is, true Jing. Its nature, however, belongs to Yin, and it is generated by transformation from one’s own lung Qi. The method of refining it is as follows. It passes through the kidneys and the navel and descends to the Sea Bottom to be cooked and refined; from the Sea Bottom it rises to the navel and harmonizes with the Qi that belongs to Earth; it then descends through the Tail Gate (Weilu—the pass at the lower end of the spine) and rises to gather at the crown of the head. When, at this point, it is shone upon by the crown Qi of the Celestial Dipper (Tiangang ding qi—a term of Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy), referring to the Qi-mechanism illuminating at the crown of the head), it transforms into Golden Liquid (Jinye), slowly descends, and drips into the Crimson Palace. At first one feels a deep coolness, and the viscera become clear and refreshed as well; in a moment it turns into hot Qi, and a warmth wells up and moves downward, warming the whole body. If one feels this warm breath spreading and merging into the Mysterious Pass (Xuanguan—a Neidan term for the crucial site where the Qi-mechanism gathers and is transformed), with a sensation within it as if of drawing in and sending forth, this is clear evidence of “nursing the infant,” that is, of nourishing with Jing and Qi the elixir embryo newly born within the body. To cultivate true Jing without following this method is not to understand how it ought to be refined to the endpoint; to practice according to the oral formula and yet not reach the point at which the breath merges into the Mysterious Pass cannot be called truly understanding the endpoint either.

Pre-Heaven Qi belongs to Yang fire, yet its true nature belongs to Yin; Post-Heaven Qi belongs to Yin fire, yet its substantial nature belongs to Yang. Pre-Heaven Qi need not be refined separately. Provided one understands the method of nurturing and preserving it, it can communicate with the true Qi of heaven, earth, and the natural world, and may be drawn upon without end. Pre-Heaven Qi comes from the Kun palace (the position symbolizing earth and Yin). It is formed when Qian Qi resonantly connects with Kun Qi, and therefore its true nature belongs to Yin. Post-Heaven Qi comes from the Dui direction (one of the directional positions of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams)). It circulates as Dui Qi receives and continues Zhen Qi, and therefore its substantial nature belongs to Yang.

What is the method of nurturing Qi? Cleanse the bone marrow, purify the mind within, and store one’s capacities in concealment rather than using them rashly. What is the method of refining Qi? On the basis of nurturing Qi, one goes a step further: concentrate Shen and quiet one’s thoughts, observe inwardly with the gaze, and regularly inspect the Sea Bottom. In this way the lower region naturally heats up as if coming to a boil. Not only can ordinary Qi be transformed into true Qi; ordinary fluids can also be transformed into Qi, becoming a breath like cloud and mist—downward guarding the Mysterious Pass, upward rising to Jiaji (the cultivation site at the middle of the spine), and then, following the true Qi, spreading and ascending to the brain. If it further receives the illumination of the Celestial Dipper’s Qi, it too can transform directly, together with the true Qi, into Jade Liquid. This is precisely a result seldom obtained.

When Jade Liquid is guided to the Crimson Palace, it brings coolness and leaves the viscera comfortable and open. When it is used to nourish the Earth Cauldron (Tufu—a cultivation term for the region around the spleen and stomach), the Dantian becomes warm and moist, the breath descends and passes through to the Mysterious Pass, the infant is nourished, and the whole body is harmonious and unobstructed. This is the endpoint reached at the initial pass of refining Qi (the preliminary barrier of Neidan cultivation). Cultivate according to the sequence, and the secret instructions amount to nothing beyond this. If people in the world who refine Qi practice according to this method and these oral formulas, one may say they understand to what extent the cultivation ought to be carried. However, while the breath is circulating upward and downward, one sometimes meets with obstruction and feels as if bound or wrapped about; there may also be pain or itching. For this there are, separately, corresponding oral formulas for stopping.

“Continuing without single-minded concentration” means that, in cultivating the Dao (the Way), one proceeds in fits and starts and cannot focus the mind. Master Niwan says that this passage mainly discusses the prohibitions and cautions of cultivation, and does not present any especially profound method of practice. The essential point is that study must be meticulous and sustained, concentrated without cease. If one’s practice is always interrupted and one cannot remain single-minded, then even if one receives a genuine transmission, it is as if one had never heard it. Ghosts and spirits will loathe such conduct. Not only is this of no benefit, but the precepts of Daoism are clear and manifest, and it is hard to escape punishment in the unseen realm—how can one fail to be vigilant and cautious?

Elder Taixu says, “Those who cultivate the Dao are as numerous as the hairs on an ox, yet those who truly attain the Dao are as rare as the horns of a rabbit.” These words refer precisely to this kind of student of the Dao. Were it not so, those who have attained the Dao from antiquity to the present, judging by what I have seen and heard, would be enough to fill entire volumes—why else use “rabbit horns” as a metaphor for how few attain the Dao?

The root of cultivating intermittently and without concentration always lies in failing to understand the principles of nature, and in being hindered by cravings and desires. Some cling to old views; some mistake deviation for insight. Some cannot endure hardship; some regard cultivation as excessively profound, while others suspect that it is too simple. Some worry that the master’s transmission is incomplete, or feel that their fellow practitioners are not reliable enough. Some suffer a sudden relapse of an old illness, or happen to contract a new one. Some see a person they revere die suddenly, or hear that another school has gained far-reaching fame. Some practice beyond their proper level and thereby fall ill; some act recklessly and invite misfortune. Some are obstructed by family members, or merely wait for the right moment and so delay their cultivation. The factors that hinder cultivation differ, yet the final result—the abandonment of practice—is the same. It is truly a cause for sighing!

“Prohibitions and Cautions That Must Be Known, the Third” is the title of the next section.

Not knowing contentment, one mistakes a realm not yet attained for one that is already sufficient. Niwan Shi (泥丸氏) said: "Not knowing contentment is the common failing of cultivators throughout the ages. Its root lies in limited experience and learning, and in the lack of guidance from an enlightened teacher and fellow practitioners of the Dao." Taixu Weng (太虚翁) said: "It is precisely for this reason that, when I discussed 'knowing where to stop,' I pointed out the boundary at which one should halt. It was a blow to the head meant to wake you."

Precept Four: Disbelief in Cause and Effect

Niwan Shi said: "Disbelief in cause and effect is a grave affliction that easily besets those who consider themselves enlightened. Even one who has attained the Dao, if the principles of his nature remain unclear and his reflection shallow, will know only emptiness and stillness, and will in the end fall into the Small Vehicle (Xiaosheng, a stage of practice that stresses individual liberation). To indulge foolishly in this habit brings calamity without end. How can one not be afraid?"

Taixu Weng said: "Cause and effect follow one another as a shadow follows the body. One who stubbornly declares that he does not believe in cause and effect not only severs his own path of cultivation but also cuts off the road back to the right way. Even if he clings to emptiness and stillness and breaks no other precept, I know that after his death his blessings will be exhausted, and he will finally turn to fine dust and scatter into the void."

Precept Five: The Mountain of Self and Others

Niwan Shi said: "When the distinction between self and others rises like a high mountain that cannot be crossed, selfish desires grow unchecked. Even with diligent practice, one will surely end up attached to the demonic path."

Taixu Weng said: "If one cannot remove the distinction between self and others, one will possess the Four Marks (the mark of self, the mark of others, the mark of sentient beings, and the mark of a lifespan). Vexation and quarrels will inevitably leave one without peace even for a moment, and anger will keep multiplying. Even if one understands the refining of Qi (气) and one's skill is perfected and complete, one will in the end become only a follower of the demonic path. My teacher's words are truly well founded."

Precept Six: An Unbroken Lustful Mind

Niwan Shi said: "If the mind of lust is not cut off, then even with diligent and vigorous practice, it is like steaming sand to make rice: success is utterly impossible."

Master Niwan said, “If the mind of sexual desire cannot be cut off, then even the most painstaking cultivation is like steaming sand to cook a meal: it can never succeed.”

The Elder of the Great Void said, “The mind of sexual desire arises from attachment to love and affection. If one does not keep the precept against lust, the fire of passion blazes up and burns away the path of cultivating the True; one may even fall among the aquatic beings, and the calamity thus invited is no small matter. Moreover, cultivation along the Dao (the Way) of the elixir takes the preservation of Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) as its foremost pass. When Jing and Qi are depleted, Qi becomes insufficient; when Qi is insufficient, Shen (spirit) weakens; when Shen weakens, the true fire within the body grows faint, the ‘furnace and stove’ used in refining the elixir also cools, Yin Qi (the Yin of Yin-Yang) rises by seizing the advantage, and in the end one may fall ill and die.

“Some who are resolved to cultivate the Dao may be bound by traditional notions. Holding that ‘of the three unfilial acts, to leave no posterity is the greatest,’ they feel that, having come from a Confucian household, they cannot simply set marriage and childbearing aside. For this, one may petition the Celestial Emperor and seek an expedient path: if someone aspires to cultivate the Dao and, when Jing and Qi are abundant, is willing first to leave descendants, and if this is used to guide those attached to Confucian ideas, he may be permitted to try once or twice and ought to be able to father a boy. As soon as his wife is pregnant, he must immediately keep the precept and must not go on indulging in passion. Those who violate the precept will be cast down into the path of transmigration and rebirth, left adrift in the deep pit of desire, and made to suffer every kind of retribution.

“My teacher found these words reasonable and conveyed them to Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin). Patriarch Lü also gave his approval. The matter has already been recorded and put into practice, reported upward to the Three Heavens and decreed downward to the Nine Springs. Yet this is a secret teaching. Those who know of it must not casually disclose the reasons for its transmission and implementation, lest they draw criticism.”

Xie commented, “The conditions of the world are now even more complicated. After one enters marriage, the changes far exceed those of the time before marriage, and the methods spoken of by the ancients may not cope with them adequately. Either one does not marry, or one marries a person of like aspiration who is equally resolved to cultivate the Dao; otherwise it is hard to escape the entanglement. A human life holds affairs that can never be finished. If one plans to wait until every worldly matter has been settled before cultivating immortality, I fear this will in the end become an excuse for delay upon delay. As the years pass, will and body decline with them, until at last one lives out a white-haired life and accomplishes nothing.”

Alas, heaven and earth are themselves illusory, and the myriad things of the world are not eternally real. Forms of every kind continually replace one another, all produced by habitual karma and by causes and conditions; this is precisely where the suffering lies. That people of the world find it hard to cut off sexual desire is usually because of deep craving. What is called continuing the family line is sometimes only a pretext. If one truly wants offspring, fewer desires and yet more births are also recorded in the medical books. What people call “a love of beauty” is not in fact a simple admiration of beautiful appearance, but the fire of desire burning so fiercely that one cannot restrain oneself.

To cut off thoughts of desire, the key is to keep a sense of fear in the heart; this may be of some help. Striving gradually until mind and nature are pure and settled, after about three hundred days thoughts of desire do not easily flare up. Thus some of the ancients hung a skeleton, so as to bring to mind the decay of the corpse; some hung sacred images, concentrated on reciting Jing (scripture/classic) and incantations, performed prostrations, or kept company with fellow cultivators—all in order to subdue this one thought. Better still is to place oneself in a state of emptiness and stillness, so that mind and spirit return to the void, giving the six faculties—eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind—and the six sense objects—form, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental objects—no chance to stir one’s thoughts. If one only applies Laozi’s essential instruction, “let the mind roam in the beginning,” the matter is extremely simple. I hope that those in the world who aspire to cultivate the Dao will practice accordingly at all times; then the Dao of the elixir, too, can be accomplished more quickly. What could be more beneficial than this?

The Master said, “Just so. This is the very principle of which you speak.”

Section Seven: One Must Know to Eliminate Stinginess and Self-Praise

Master Niwan said: “If the mind of stinginess and self-praise is not removed, the distinction between oneself and others grows ever stronger, and it also becomes a root of karmic retribution. In this way the accounts that record one’s faults multiply, the repayment of retribution is hard to keep fair, and old disputes are difficult to settle. The hope of liberation then remains remote, and the habit may even turn into an obstacle in cultivation. From ancient times to the present, examples of this have been many.”

Elder Taixu said: “One should understand that giving wealth to aid and relieve others is, from the start, a duty that falls within one’s own part. If throughout life one clings to stingy thoughts, one will miss the chance to do good. To give and afterward still dwell on what one has spent is called regret, and merit is thereby diminished. If the mind harbors the thought of praising oneself, the blaze of pride and arrogance will grow. This not only cancels merit but also deepens karmic obstruction. How can one fail to be on guard?

“My teacher speaks with such earnestness above precisely because cultivating the Dao (the Way) requires the accumulation of merit. Accumulating merit cannot be separated from giving and austere practice; otherwise, how is merit to be built up? Opportunities to do good are easily missed, and once met they are not easily found again. To act at once upon meeting an opportunity to do good is benevolence; to do a good deed without boasting of it is righteousness; not to regret when one suffers insult and draws slander is De (Virtue/Power); to bestow kindness and accumulate virtue without keeping it in mind—this is the Dao. Alas! Since Heaven has granted me the strength, and has also granted me the occasion to do good so that I am able to act, why should I on that account give rise to stinginess and self-praise?

“Men of aspiration in antiquity, upon hearing or seeing something worthy of trust, would trust it and put it into practice. Some men of aspiration today, however, take doubt for cleverness and careful scrutiny for clear discernment. Thus, although they intend to establish achievement and virtue, in the end they accumulate no real merit. This is because they do not understand that De and merit are valued in exhausting one’s own heart and in according with the innate knowing within one’s nature. The aspiring men of old simply gave all their mind and strength: hearing or seeing what ought to be done, they did it, never calculating whether the other person was truly deserving. For this reason their accumulation of merit was often readily brought to completion.

“If one holds that all matters are open to doubt, then there is nothing under heaven that cannot be doubted. To refuse to act until one is completely certain is nearly never to act at all. Those who need rescue will likely not wait until that day: some will have died, some will have fallen into ruin. Is this not a pity? A person who is stingy and given to self-praise is not worth speaking with about the great Dao. Even if his cultivation is diligent, I judge that in the end he will still remain trapped in birth and death, becoming one who forms resentments and bears debts. How can this not be taken as a warning!”

Xie’s note says: “The reason a wealthy person has wealth is that the creative work of nature borrows his hand to relieve those in poverty, not so that he may sneer at and mock the poor. The reason a person of strength has strength is that the creative work of nature borrows his hand to help the weak, not so that he may bully and make sport of them. Authority, wealth, learning, and what one has seen and heard all arise from differences in each person’s circumstances and in the fashioning of nature. Traced to the root, human life is originally equal, without high or low, noble or base. To insult another is to insult human life and human nature; and since one is oneself a human being, one thereby also injures one’s own character. All whose practice has long failed to advance ought to examine this point again and again.”

Once the thought of gain and loss arises, a person easily falls into anxious fretting over what is gained and what is lost. Master Niwan (Niwan Shi) said: “When the mind harbors notions of gain and loss, it is hard to follow the original intent of the ancients and refrain from willful action; the ills that result are beyond counting.”

Elder Taixu (Taixu Weng) said: “One should know that human nature is originally good, and the principle of Heaven is already fully present. What are called gain and loss are spoken of only from the standpoint of worldly human affairs. What we cultivate is the Dao (the Way). Cultivation is needed because delusive thoughts veil the mind and cloud original nature. The Three Corpses and Nine Worms—the inner malign spirits and body-harming entities spoken of in Daoism—together with the seven emotions and six desires, entangle one another and injure body and mind, so cultivation is required before body and mind can be at peace. Cultivation is nothing more than removing these delusive thoughts and coverings. When delusive thoughts depart, original reality appears; when the obscurations clear, the inner mind grows bright. Original reality and luminous nature have always been whole and complete, and have never been lost—what further need is there to seek them? Once this principle is understood, from where do gain and loss arise? Since gain and loss have no fixed form, why should the mind stir in vain?

Turmoil and contention in the mind only bring affliction upon oneself. In my view, lessen desire by one part and the mind brightens by one part; remove ten parts of desire and the mind brightens by ten. I hope that those who cultivate the Dao will devote themselves to dispelling desire and removing delusion, so that mind and nature become pure and clear, and they may naturally attain a state of subtle mystery, luminous clarity, and perfect awakening. If one does not believe this and remains caught in anxiety over gain and loss, I do not know where such a person will ultimately go; one can only leave them to their own course. Is this not worthy of being taken as a warning?”

The human body inherently has two states: movement and stillness. Master Niwan said: “A person’s whole body naturally contains both movement and stillness. In movement, Shen (spirit)—the spirit that governs the activities of body and mind—is at work; in stillness, Jing (essence)—the vital essence of life—comes to rest. Whether Qi (vital energy) circulates or pauses, it all obeys the direction of Shen. Thus, when the body is active, Shen sets Qi in motion; Qi receives Shen’s command, takes charge of Jing, and circulates. When the body grows quiet, Shen causes Jing to return to Qi and leads the breath to settle in the qi-cavity (the place where, in cultivation, the breath is said to be stored and concealed).

“That luminous, wondrous, perfect, and awakened mind-nature of ours originally knows no distinction between movement and stillness, nor any coming and going or change. How could the body’s having movement and stillness hinder my cultivation of mind-nature? Alas—it is only that one has not yet thought this through.”

Elder Taixu said: “The teacher’s words truly strike the essential point, setting forth a principle that those before us never expressed. How compassionate! How could the body’s having movement and stillness hinder my cultivation of mind-nature? Alas—it is only that one has not yet thought this through.”

Taixu Weng said: “The teacher’s instruction is truly essential. It sets forth principles that earlier generations never made plain, and it comes from loving concern for those who come after. How could I, a junior, dare not follow it and explain it in full?

I heard the teacher say that, in ancient times, those resolved to cultivate the Dao (the Way) never abandoned their practice whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, and that each posture had its corresponding method, so that effort could continue through both movement and stillness. Only thus were there stages of cultivation, together with their results, such as laying the foundation in a hundred days, the embryo coming to fullness in ten months, and three years of nursing.

Distinguished more finely, movement has two forms, walking and standing, while stillness consists of sitting and lying. The secret of refining and nourishing is one thing only: concentrating Shen (spirit)—drawing in the mind and spirit and keeping a focused inward guard. Books throughout the ages on the various methods of cultivation, and on the methods of cooking and refining, are in the end all contained in this single point. As for where Shen is concentrated, it changes with the posture: when walking, concentrate it at the two Yongquan points (the acupoints on the soles of the feet); when standing, at the sea bottom (the region of the perineum); when sitting, at the Crimson Palace (the area within the chest, about the heart); and when lying down, at the Kun abdomen (the abdomen).

If one is seated and answering others, or standing and conversing with others, this differs from sitting alone or standing alone. When conversing while seated, first settle the mind and spirit at the sea bottom, then imagine it rising from behind and passing upward along the back, like the flame behind a Buddha image. In this way the mind and spirit can remain settled while one responds. The author further adds that one may use intention to lead Qi (vital energy) from beneath the ground around behind the visitor and then draw it back into oneself; while speaking with the guest, one again enfolds the other with intention, as if an egg-shaped field of Qi enclosed both parties within it. In doing this, what matters is that the mind and spirit of the whole body stay gathered and settled, and that the breath remain calm and even. When conversing while standing, first place the mind and spirit in the soles of both feet, tread down lightly so as to stand firm, and only then open the mouth to reply; the mind and spirit will then not easily scatter. Conversing while seated may also follow this method.

There are two forms of the lying practice, called “Xiyi sleep” and “Huanyang sleep.” Xiyi is the title bestowed on Patriarch Chen Tuan; Huanyang is the title of Li Laojun of Mount Mao. The one meant here is Baizi Laojun, not the Laojun who is a transformation of the Most High Lord Lao. The two ways of sleeping each have their own features.

In Xiyi sleep, one lies on the side. Taking the left side as the example: bend the left arm and support the face with the palm; open the thumb and index finger so that the left ear rests in the space between them and the ear passage is not blocked. Keep the waist and back straight, bend the left leg and draw it in toward the abdomen, and let the body rest securely on the bedding. The author holds that the waist, abdomen, and right leg should also turn slightly toward the face-up side, so that the Qi in the Dantian (energy center—the site of internal cultivation in the lower abdomen) may spread freely; the right leg should also be laid somewhat flatter and opened outward, so that the kidney region is not pressed. Place the right palm against the navel and gather the mind and spirit behind the navel. Visualize the whole body bright as crystal, and at the same time imagine yourself sleeping on the surface of calm water, with open emptiness and no bottom beneath it; further visualize within the bedding a mass of white Qi the size of an egg, with yourself sleeping peacefully inside it. Lying on the right side is done in the same way.

In Huanyang sleep, one does not lie on the side but on the back, with the upper body raised higher than the lower body by about three cun or half a chi. Both hands are held in wogu (a firm grip—clenching the fists, or drawing the fingers in according to a specific gesture); both arms stretch straight and open slightly to either side in the shape of the character “eight”; the legs too part slightly outward, leaving a space of one or two cun about the crotch. Close the mouth and the eyes, and let the mind and spirit grow quiet. After about a dozen breaths, visualize a vapor like cloud and mist pervading inside and outside the body, then by intention condense this mass of vapor and let it rest in the Crimson Palace. At this point use the method of “as if present, as if forgotten”: there is awareness in the mind, yet one does not deliberately fix upon it.

According to the author, during this visualization the chest may feel stiff, hot, or uncomfortable, seemingly hard to bear. He explains the phenomenon as the dense, interfused Qi being warmed and nourished by the fire of the heart, so that Qi is about to transform into blood. If one then guides it according to the method set out later, the blood can be made to return to the kidneys. The eyes, though closed, quietly shine and observe toward the chest and back and beneath the bedding, as if that region were too deep to fathom. The author holds that if hot Qi appears, dividing into two streams from behind the heart and in front of the spine and flowing toward the waist and kidneys, this is a sign that blood is transforming into Jing (essence). Intention, however, must not be applied too forcefully; one need only tend it lightly. The “tending” (gu) here is the tending that means managing and caring for, as spoken of in the Xiuxian Bianhuo Lun (Discourse on Resolving Doubts in Cultivating Immortality).

The subtle principles here are many and hard to set forth one by one. Broadly speaking, the work of nourishing the blood has eight parts, and the work of transforming Jing has two. As for the methods used when sleeping together with another person, there are nine in all. Fearing to mislead later students and lead people into side paths, the author dared not write them down.

Xie’s note says: When a man and a woman sleep together, they should face one another; when those of the same sex sleep together, they should turn their backs to one another. The oral instructions involved cannot be passed on casually. Those able to obtain and read this book may be presumed to have a teacher’s transmission, or to be persons of broad and penetrating insight, and so they may inquire of their own teachers. The author is not in a position to set forth the concrete methods.

At the outset, on the first day of the tenth month of the Bingwu year, Lanyun attended upon Elder Taixu. All who are able to obtain and read this book have a lineage of transmission and a known origin, or else they are persons of superior insight who thoroughly understand the principles of things. One may therefore seek instruction from one’s own teacher; I am not in a position to set forth the methods and instructions it contains.

At the outset, on the first day of the tenth month of the Bingwu year, Lanyun, attending upon Elder Taixu, recorded the Precious Rules for Progress in the Dao (the Way) of the Celestial Immortal and the Essential Knowledge of the Precepts and Prohibitions of the Dao of the Celestial Immortal, as transmitted by Niwan. When the writing reached the entry “Movement and Stillness Have an Interval,” Lanyun felt a stirring within. Elder Taixu was a divine man who had once divided his Shen (spirit) and sent it to the Southern Marchmount. On his left hand were the four characters “Sovereign of the Great Void,” their forms resembling seal script yet filled with a vivid, soaring vitality, and pure red in color. It is said that they appeared only after he washed his hands as death drew near, and for this reason he was styled Taixu.

In his heart Lanyun asked that Elder Taixu dictate the book while he himself took up the brush to record it, so that it might deliver and transform those in the world who shared a destined affinity. Elder Taixu said, “Since you are willing to record it for me, what would I be reluctant to give? This book will spread throughout the lands north and south of the great river. The time, however, has not yet come.” He then rose and intoned, “The imperial year, three and six; and beyond that, two and three. North of the banks of the Divine River, south of the lodgings at Lougong. A humble man of the wilds, a barefoot son of the Emperor.” He intoned again, “By whom, then, is it given and received? Only then do the instructions begin to circulate.” When he had finished, he said, “Attaining the Dao is not difficult, and those who hear of it are many. It is only that each person’s endowment differs, so the manner of cultivation differs as well, and the realm ultimately realized is not the same. All who read this book are companions on the same path. I hope you will not give up on yourselves.”

Before long Elder Taixu spoke again: “My teacher came yesterday and told me that I am about to be summoned by the Celestial Emperor, and that the day of my departure from the world is near.” He rose and intoned, “Seventy-nine years dwelling in the world; the passing of time is no ordinary matter. Joyfully I complete my true countenance; my Shen attains realization in the Heaven of the Great Void.” When the verse was done, he smiled, handed over the paper, and said, “Write it down.” Lanyun then began with the Precious Rules for Progress in the Dao of the Celestial Immortal and copied the texts in order, in a careful hand. By the time he reached the entry “Movement and Stillness Have an Interval,” it was already the fifteenth day of that month.

Elder Taixu said, “Why not copy as well the verses intoned on the first day, and append them after this entry, as a token for the day when they are first transmitted to companions in the Dao?” Lanyun then rose, set them in order and copied them, and when he had finished presented them to Elder Taixu. Elder Taixu said, “Very good,” and added, “Continue for me with the following words:”

“What I have set forth is not recorded in full in other books. Let those who obtain this book never treat it lightly. To obtain it yet not practice it, to practice it yet not with diligence, to be diligent yet unable to persist—all of these are called treating it lightly. Thus one cannot accomplish the Dao. On such-and-such a day of such-and-such a month (the original records the fifteenth day of the tenth month of the Bingwu year of the Qianlong reign), at the charge of the Master of Danbo, Elder Taixu—Danbo being the name of the studio, the Danbo precinct of the Kaihua Cloister in She Village, Gui’an County, which is also the place where Elder Taixu ascended in transformation—recorded by Lanyun.”

Alas! Eleven days later, Elder Taixu did indeed pass away. When the Wuyin year came, Lanyun traveled and took up lodging in the region of Lougong. After coming to understand, he brought out this record, intending to bestow it upon those with a destined affinity, and so added a few further lines at the end of the text.

“Xing bu you ren” means that one’s conduct departs from the ordinary Dao (the Way) and does not follow a proper course. Master Niwan says: this is not the aspiration of one content to keep to his station, but the way of those who delight in the strange and devote themselves to extraordinary feats. Such conduct, even if by lucky chance it escapes censure in the human world, cannot escape punishment under heavenly law. The precepts stipulate that even a single occasional offense brings a penalty of three years of obstruction and stagnation. The punishment is severe because people of this sort prefer hidden, out-of-the-way side paths and do not follow the upright, central Dao; they readily give rise to grave calamity, and so not the slightest leniency can be shown. How can one fail to take this as a warning?

Elder Taixu says: My teacher’s words are indeed true and without falsehood. Among the recluses of antiquity, some lived long in seclusion in the world and sought no fame or advancement. Their deeds are recorded in the texts, and those that can be clearly traced already number more than a thousand. Nowadays, by contrast, some mingle in the dusty world: some take up residence in abandoned monasteries and accept the support of monks; others keep company with beggars in tattered clothes.

The most secretive sort conceal themselves in the remotest reaches of mountains such as Emei, Jizu, Taihua, and Laohuang, taking jackals and wolves as their companions, sitting cross-legged in stillness for hundreds of years, their bodies covered with fallen leaves, the mountain paths choked with thorns, fearing only that others might learn of their whereabouts. All of these were people of the Han, Wei, Six Dynasties, Tang, Song, Yuan, and Ming periods whose cultivated arts and methods were profound. In ancient times, those who more often displayed strange traces of conduct commonly suffered obstruction with no fixed term. I truly know of them, and have seen them with my own eyes; I simply cannot bear to speak their names.

I fear that people in the world who aspire to cultivate the Dao may be misled, mistakenly adopt these practices, and instead suffer great harm. Therefore I do not shrink from spending many words to remind everyone. Those with resolve must take this as a warning, act with caution, and must on no account depart from the proper Dao.

At this moment Hai Liuweng, standing in attendance beside him, said: “Spiritual powers and magical arts are the means by which world-dwelling zhenren—realized persons who remain in the human world to cultivate—accumulate merit and cultivate De (Virtue/Power). The classics record them in great detail. You warn people not to pursue them. Is that because what the books record cannot be trusted, or is there some deeper meaning that leads you to reject them so forcefully?”

Taixu Weng said: “You still have not understood. These matters are not suitable to explain to you. Yet if I do not tell you, I fear misleading those who come after. Have you seen a bird’s egg hatch into a chick?” Hai Liuweng said: “I have.” Taixu Weng asked: “Have you ever seen a chick break out of the shell before it has fully grown?” Hai Liuweng replied: “I have not.”

Taixu Weng said: “The transformation of a bird’s egg has its own pattern; taking form has its own principle; and breaking the shell once form is complete has its proper moment. Before the moment arrives, the transformation cannot be completed; before the transformation is finished, form cannot be achieved; and before the body is firm, the shell cannot be broken. If one forces it out ahead of time, what has not yet transformed or taken form will die; what has taken form but is not yet firm will grow feeble; and what is firm in body but whose moment has not yet come will fall ill. The case I spoke of earlier is the kind in which the chick has already taken form and the body is firm, yet the moment has not arrived, so the harm is relatively limited—but it is already gravely ill. Alas, a chick is only an ordinary thing. From nothing to something, through nurturing until form is complete, the process required has already been finished. Even so, whether the shell is broken by the timing of Heaven or by human force, the harm and the consequences are still like this.

“What we cultivate is the way of the immortals. It stresses entering from being into non-being, refining the substantial so as to return to the empty, clearing away the false so as to return to the true, gathering one’s nature so as to return to one’s nature, and refining Yin into Yang. The various methods of cultivation never leave the body, yet they do not cling to the body. In practice one must be lively and spontaneous, still and subtle, as if present and as if absent, pure and wholly concentrated. One cannot regard the five viscera and six bowels merely as the five viscera and six bowels, nor the four limbs and hundred bones merely as the four limbs and hundred bones. In cultivation there first appears a scene of rounded wholeness, radiant and shining; then appear such realms as the ‘water-moon realm,’ the ‘golden-sand world,’ and the ‘red-and-purple pure realm.’ At last the scene suddenly shrinks until it is like a grain of rice or millet. I then gather it with true intent and draw it into the Xuanguan—the inner pass spoken of in cultivation—just as a magnet draws iron, so that it penetrates the Xuantai, the realm in Neidan (internal alchemy) where the sacred embryo is nurtured. This is the wondrous function of settling the spirit and entering sagehood. Not the slightest mixed Qi (vital energy), nor any unrefined ordinary Jing (essence), ordinary Qi, or ordinary Shen (spirit) still within the body, may be allowed to mix in.

“When the Xuanguan has just opened, if one uses disordered force to display secret methods of marvels while the sacred embryo has not yet formed and the true Qi is extremely faint, then although the true spirit is already present, it remains obscured by dust and defilement, and its light is very limited. What are called secret methods of displaying marvels means letting the true spirit lead the Shishen—the discriminating mind driven by desire—command the ordinary Qi, and then act by borrowing the killing and generating Qi of the earthly and celestial Gang stars. The marvels thus displayed are in fact borrowed under the mandate of the Celestial Emperor; the Qi of the earthly and celestial realms therefore gathers. But the Qi that gathers is not entirely that of orthodox spirits. Among it are the demon kings of the Six Heavens, who, under orders, dispatch demonic Qi to come. Spirits whose hearts are not yet upright, who outwardly revere the orthodox Way yet only pretend to submit, having already answered the summons, naturally act according to command. For this reason the methods often appear efficacious.

“One must understand that the practitioner’s skill is not yet mature, the true Qi is insufficient, the true spirit is weak, the mind-nature is not complete, and deluded thoughts are still blazing—only then does one fall into this false cultivation. It comes merely from a love of winning, greed for fame, craving for marvels, or from haste and a wish to try it out. Those demon-spirits have long been familiar with such thoughts. They therefore arouse the inner demons and band together to lodge in the practitioner’s body. Students of the Dao are often wholly unaware. The mind has already been deluded by demons, and from then on they act without restraint. The arts grow ever more efficacious, yet they think that all their former cultivation was entirely wrong. In the end this can only harm themselves and harm others.

“If a person’s root in the Dao is deep, and if a realized person who has attained the Dao stops him in time and awakens him, so that he returns to the true Way and cultivates with courageous vigor, it is still possible for him to form the sacred embryo and bring it forth into the world. But to reach the stage of shattering the bodily form and thoroughly awakening may still require the long passage of hundreds or thousands of years. Why? Because the karmic obstructions accumulated by past reckless practice are as many as mountains and seas. Only when those obstructions are cleared and the offenses pardoned does the celestial decree descend and that barrier open. Can one fail to be cautious?

“Hai Liu, you must know: when inner cultivation is complete, meritorious practice is naturally fulfilled, and one can commune with the creative transformations as if sharing a single breath. At the stirring of a thought, spirit and intent respond; when spirit and intent gather, Qi protects and upholds them, just as the mind directs the fingers and the fingers never fail to obey. Are such spiritual powers not already vast? What further need is there to rely on magical arts? What obscures and prevents free passage is only ordinary emotion, desire, and thought. Purify these emotions, desires, and thoughts, so that the mind returns once more to what is true, and spiritual powers arise of themselves.”

Hai Liuweng was delighted on hearing this. Master Lanyun then recorded these words.

The commentary of the Xie family says: This chapter contains many scenes of inner cultivation, which words cannot fully express and which cannot be grasped by speculation and argument. The profound principles and realms of the water-moon realm, the golden-sand world, the red-and-purple pure realm, and the rest follow a clear sequence. They are precisely the orthodox method of celestial-immortal cultivation and must not be overlooked.

Essential Cautions One Must Know, Eleventh: Wallowing in Ease and Comfort

Master Niwan said: “One who wallows in ease and comfort is no person of true resolve, and cannot be compared with those who set their will on transcending themselves—truly a cause for sorrow. Even if a sage were born again into the world, it would be hard to urge such a person onto the path of attaining the Dao (the Way). Body and mind are filled entirely with stagnant Yin Qi (vital energy), and the work of cultivation is more than can be borne. Alas, what more can I say?”

Elder Taixu said: “My teacher’s compassion lies in not deigning to lecture certain people; it is precisely by this attitude that he instructs them most deeply. The fault of these quiet-natured people is laziness: they seem to have reached understanding, yet they have not; they seem content, yet they are not. Of only ordinary capacity, they drift within the Mysterious Gate (the gate of Daoist cultivation), and their practice is exceedingly arduous. My teacher pities them, and so uses stern rebuke to rouse them.

“People who hide away in quiet Daoist halls and live out their days like withered wood are a common sight in the world. In my view, they have simply never grasped the method of cultivation. If one can remain amid trouble and distraction and still keep the mind clear and still; if one often reflects on gains and losses, nourishes oneself within, and works hard at practice in hours of leisure—who can say this is not the great path to celestial immortality? Once one has entered the Mysterious Gate, one must take care not to let the years pass in vain.

“If someone wishes only to spend an entire life in quiet ease, I am sure that person will go on in the same way life after life, with little chance of a settled outcome. To sink into idle comfort and undertake no cultivation is exactly what my teacher means to warn against so severely. Alas—without exceptional intelligence and without sufficient strength, yet forcing oneself into intense and diligent practice, one will certainly develop troubles as a result. Better to follow one’s own endowment and enter a path of cultivation that suits one. Birds and swans differ in what they are given; each has mysteries of cultivation fitted to itself. People do not come into the world without reason. So long as one is human, one may attain the Dao. The pity is only that some abandon themselves.”

Master Niwan said: “Whether the work of cultivation can be completed on schedule is only one person’s claim, not a general principle applicable to everyone. People’s innate endowments differ, and there are also differences between quickness and dullness of mind. If one insists on fixing a time limit in order to force success, problems often arise as a result.”

Elder Taixu said: “The teacher’s words strike at the heart of the matter. Whether one is drinking water or soup, and whether one feels cold or warm, only oneself knows most clearly. A teacher cannot decide for a disciple, nor can a father decide for a son, because each person’s endowment differs, and quickness and dullness of mind are not the same. If cultivation is carried out fittingly, it is already enough even if one has not met the deadline; if the method and the timing are unsuitable, one should not stop on that account even if the deadline has been passed. The so-called ‘seven’ and ‘nine’ are merely names for the old and the young; they do not prescribe how long one must cultivate in order to succeed. Turning left thirty-six times and turning right thirty-six times is likewise only a way of saying that the amounts correspond. Similar statements can all be understood by analogy and need not be clung to rigidly. It is like traveling a road: one may first estimate the distance by a certain number of steps, and the method is indeed like that, yet the person walking the road simply keeps going forward, and reaching the destination is what ultimately counts. Why must one lay down wooden planks and examine the number of each step one by one? People’s strides are longer or shorter, so the number of steps naturally differs. To calculate distance by counting steps—is that not muddled? The Dao (the Way) of the celestial immortals values flexible understanding; it is not something that those who cling to outward forms and hold fast to the written word are able to discuss.”

Master Niwan said: “Purity and defilement depend on the inner mind and have nothing to do with the external surroundings. Throughout the world, those who aspire to cultivation yet delay their practice because they are confused about this are everywhere—truly laughable.”

Elder Taixu said: “These words are well spoken. That purity and defilement lie in the inner mind and do not depend on external surroundings is an unchanging principle. To cling to external conditions and draw boundaries for oneself comes from holding rigidly to ancient teachings and being unable to understand them flexibly. One should know that purity…”

The venerable Taixu said: “These words are truly apt: purity and defilement depend on the mind and have no necessary connection with external circumstances; this is an unchanging principle. To cling to outer conditions and thereby set limits on oneself is to swallow the ancients without digesting them. One should understand that the various practices of purifying the body and avoiding defilement are in fact meant as cultivation of both the inner and the outer: when washing the face, one should also purify the mind; when burning incense, one should also set one’s inner nature aright.

It is regrettable that some people, though ritual propriety calls on them to pay condolence visits, deliberately avoid doing so merely because the way would take them past graves. They hold that the books say that after seeing a corpse one may not cultivate the Dao (the Way) for forty-nine days, and may even fail to attain the Dao for the whole of one’s life. In fact, this saying comes from schools devoted to ritual and the recitation of scripture, and it covertly mocks those Yin-Yang masters who make their living by escorting funerals and leading mourning rites. Day and night they are immersed in funeral affairs, and all their lives, inside and out, they are steeped in the Qi (vital energy) of death; they do indeed lack the foundation for cultivating the Dao.

Yet if the Yin-Yang masters of the world can sincerely recite the Taixuan Yujing (the Jade Scripture of Great Mystery), and if each day they recite the scripture and uphold it with an attentive mind, they will not only become pure themselves but will also transform the places they reach, so that those places obtain the protection of gods and spirits. Continually accumulating good deeds and merit in this way, who could surpass them? This is what is called forming a bond of affinity with ghosts and spirits, and it can also become a supporting condition for cultivation. How much more so, since the mind that cultivates the Dao is from the outset not bound by the cycle of birth and death! If one does not cling even to life and death, why cling to purity and defilement?

Nevertheless, rites of worship and scripture recitation ought in principle to be clean and properly ordered both within and without; the slightest laxity is not enough to express reverence. That is why there are such ceremonies as burning incense and setting out offerings, bathing, and changing one’s clothes. As for the discipline of cultivating body and mind, one single-mindedly holds to the correct Dao. The Dao of the celestial immortals is still and vast; no baleful defilement can intrude upon it. What, then, is there to fear?

If, however, one has not yet cultivated to this stage, and the mind is still stirred by such matters, one may, following the oral instructions, withdraw and recite the Taixuan Yujing, visualizing a compassionate light shining like the sun and moon upon the Golden Court (the palace contemplated in the course of cultivation). Even if some taboo has been breached, no harm will result. One must never on this account set limits on oneself, insisting on waiting a full seven days before going to pay condolences and thereby neglecting the obligations of ritual; nor should one, merely because one has taken part in funeral affairs, stop one’s own cultivation. In setting forth this point, the master instructs the people of the world out of compassion.

Article Fourteen: What Must Be Known of Prohibitions and Taboos

To regulate the present by clinging rigidly to ancient methods is to insist on waiting until the full seven days of ritual observance have passed before going to offer condolences, and thus to miss the courtesy that is due. All things likewise come to a standstill through stubborn attachment to fixed rules, hindering progress in cultivation. My teacher set down this item among the precepts out of a compassionate wish to admonish the people of the world.

Precepts and Taboos to Be Known, No. 14: Do Not Cling to Ancient Methods in Making Demands of the Present

Niwan said: “Ages change, and the affairs of the world change with them; such is the course of the times. Those who cling to ancient methods in order to regulate the present are merely fond of ancient institutions. Yet, like food that has been eaten but not digested, they have never truly grasped the intention of those methods. This is something against which one must be on guard.”

Elder Taixu said: “The rites and laws of antiquity can no longer be applied unchanged to the world of today. Take the transmission of the methods of the Dao (the Way). At times, limited by circumstances, one cannot follow the ancient ceremonies, yet few people realize this. Once, in a certain place, someone transmitted a certain method of the Dao. The rites and the forms of courtesy had not all been prepared, and still the transmission was completed. Someone stood forth to rebuke him, saying, ‘This method of the Dao comes down from a certain ancestral master and was received from a certain teacher. The ceremony ought to be such, and the etiquette ought to be such; all of it has its proper form. How can you now transmit it in so simple and so disrespectful a manner?’ At the time the one transmitting it wished to explain, but he could not make himself clear at once, and to this day the matter is still told as a piece of gossip. Alas, the person who rebuked him was not without reason; yet how was that person to know that the circumstances of the present are not those of antiquity?

“The Jing (scripture) says, ‘Ritual, ritual—is it only a matter of gifts of jade and silk?’ The sages of old valued ceremony and etiquette, but the root of their concern was to examine the sincerity of the one who received the method. Matters are different today. If ceremony is treated as weightier than the transmission itself, seekers of the Dao may be frightened away and the multitude left in doubt; some may even use the ceremony as grounds for finding fault with the methods of the Dao. From this it is clear that the one who transmitted the methods of the Dao without clinging to ceremony was honoring those methods, not slighting them. To judge present affairs solely by ancient institutions is indeed something against which one must be on guard.

“Alas, many people in the world cling to ancient methods without truly understanding them. Look closely, and one often finds that they are merely using ancient institutions to make demands of the present. As for their intentions and their conduct, there is much more that is difficult to assess.”

Xie added: “I know that, although this is an age in which science and technology flourish, many people, when transmitting arts and methods of practice, still cling to ancient institutions and require students to ascend the altar and swear a covenant. This instead arouses aversion in the students. Far from leading them to honor the methods of the Dao, it only draws criticism. Many students have written to me denouncing the practice in the strongest terms. I know well the harm of clinging to ancient methods in order to make demands of the present, and I hope that all who share the Dao will reflect on this together.”

Essential Knowledge of Precepts and Taboos, Fifteen

The Employment of Body, Heart-Mind, and Intention. Master Niwan (Niwanshi) said: “One who can make body, heart-mind, and intention move against desire may become an immortal; one who lets the three follow desire is merely an ordinary person. Therefore, body, heart-mind, and intention ought to be taken as precepts.”

Elder Taixu (Taixuweng) said: “How profound and marvelous the teacher’s words are! Body, heart-mind, and intention may also be called Qi (vital energy), Jing (essence), and Shen (spirit), and may also be called heaven, earth, and water, for this principle is already contained within them. Jing is born of the heart-mind, Shen is governed by intention, and Qi is borne by the body, while in truth all are directed by the heart-mind.

“What is called ‘employing the three by reversal’ means using the heart-mind to restrain intention, using intention to restrain the body, using the body to settle the will, using the will to settle Shen, and using Shen to settle Qi. They restrain one another and settle one another, so that desire is made pure and the principle of Heaven made upright, concentrated and free of mixture. This is the Dao (the Way) of becoming an immortal. What is called ‘employing the three by yielding unto loss’ is merely to give free rein to heart-mind and intention, letting the body submit to intention and letting intention be driven in turn by the notions of the heart-mind, each indulging the other and each drawing the other along. In this way desire blazes and the principle of Heaven recedes, giving rise to a thousand transformations. This is the Dao of ordinary people.

“Alas! One must know that the Dao of the celestial immortal takes ‘reversal’ as its principle of operation, because only when heaven and earth each rest in their proper place can the state of Earth and Heaven in harmonious communion arise. Between Water and Fire, and between Wood and Metal, there is likewise the subtlety of mutual union and interaction; between Water and Earth there is likewise harmony and accord. Extending this, there is nothing that does not take effect through opposition and mutual control. This is precisely the principle about which our teacher admonishes us again and again.”

Essential Knowledge of Precepts and Taboos, Sixteen

Neglect and Slackness in Ritual Propriety. Master Niwan said: “This may be verified by using outward ritual propriety to test inward cultivation…”

“Negligence in ritual” means failing to take courtesy seriously or to pay it proper attention. Master Niwan says: the way a person performs a rite reflects the inner heart; upright reverence and sincere intention naturally show themselves in both inward and outward conduct—how can one treat this perfunctorily? If someone who cultivates the Dao (the Way) violates this precept, that person will surely fall into the demonic path. How can one fail to be on guard? To regard ritual courtesy as a hypocritical surface performance is to misunderstand the saying about “excessive reverence.”

Elder Taixu says that those who violate this precept are mostly people who seem to have attained understanding but have not truly done so. In the past their cultivation and accumulated merit were insufficient, yet they possess a little talent and intelligence; their circumstances are unfavorable, and they have few true friends. They themselves treat others with respect, but others do not respond—some even mock them—and so they gradually reverse course and change their own words and conduct. There are also people who delight in novelty and praise them as talented. Those who do not understand the principles follow along and echo them, dressing this attitude up as “liberation,” “tranquil detachment,” and “lofty independence,” and praising one another. Over time this fashion reaches cultivators of the Dao who do not know the facts, and they too are influenced. People of this latter age thus often take negligence of ritual as a justification for preserving their true character. Cultivators should refrain from this practice; otherwise they will slide into arrogance and fall into the demonic path.

Cultivators should bring the inner and the outer into accord, and should also perform rites according to status and occasion. One who occupies an honored station should treat others with humble courtesy; one who is a junior or of lower station should fulfill the rites proper to a disciple; in social dealings with peers, it is enough that the etiquette be fitting and not lose a sense of proportion.

The great Dao of the celestial immortal neither shuns the human world nor flees society, and everyday social intercourse cannot be avoided. Cultivators should be careful lest persons of discernment from every quarter hear or see them and find their words and conduct improper. Celestial-immortal cultivation stresses integrating “fire timing” (the regulation of body and mind during practice) into the daily activities of walking, standing, sitting, and lying down—how can one be careless? When sitting in conversation, one holds to the corresponding essentials of cultivation during that seated talk; when conversing while walking or standing, there is likewise a corresponding method for each. If others sit, one sits as well; if others rise, stand, or walk, one responds in kind. In moving among others, in performing rites, and in conversation, there are subtle essentials throughout. In this way one can practice the method at any time and in any place, refine and nourish Qi (vital energy) and Jing (essence), and also examine whether one’s own work is steady and diligent. How could one attend only to outward social courtesy and not cultivate within?

For this reason, the precepts of the celestial immortal contain three thousand eight hundred fine rules. The more tranquil the mind, the more harmonious one’s conduct; when cultivation reaches a certain point, one need not deliberately remind oneself and can still accord with the rules naturally. Yet in ordinary days one must realize and practice them through the details, so that when occasions of response arise, one will not grow weary of the intricacy of ritual. Ancient cultivators, even at home, constantly maintained the etiquette of rising, sitting, walking, and standing, precisely using these everyday movements to practice the essentials of the method. When they later went out to deal with superiors, peers, and subordinates, they could naturally be thorough and seemly, meeting the requirements of both ritual propriety and cultivation. This is the meaning of “great reclusion amid court and marketplace” (dwelling in the dusty world without losing one’s cultivation).

Nowadays some people mistakenly suppose that at home one need not attend to bearing, and so they let their limbs grow slack. They do not understand that “the household has no fixed form” does not mean that ritual is observed only in morning and evening greetings. Rather, in rites great and small throughout daily life, inner and outer should be brought into accord, so as to avoid one-sidedness. Even when Confucius was at leisure at home, he remained composed and upright, his expression harmonious and pleased. This precisely embodies realizing and applying the work of self-cultivation amid ordinary repose. Such realization can only be grasped intuitively and cannot depend entirely on verbal instruction. Do not, merely because one is at leisure at home, neglect the work of natural reverence and of settling the mind within.

The ancient books say: in ordinary times, consider how to fulfill loyalty; when one withdraws, reflect on how to remedy one’s faults. This does not refer only to the handling of governmental affairs. The successes and failures of governmental affairs likewise have their root in the human heart. When walking, stopping, sitting, and rising, if one understands the knack of settling the mind and Shen (spirit), the spirit can remain within one’s own person and will not scatter elsewhere.

When one enters service and handles governmental affairs, the principles of things become clear, judgments are apt, responses are agreeable, and advance and withdrawal are measured. In everyday association as well, one should be humble yet careful, reverent yet at ease, yielding in due measure, clear in discrimination, fluent in speech, upright in conduct, and genuine in integrity. The Dao of the celestial immortal is to perfect oneself alone in adversity and to benefit all under Heaven when one’s aims are fulfilled; in cultivating oneself one draws near to the sages and worthies, and in transformation and transcendence one draws near to the immortals and Buddhas. Always beginning from single-minded cultivation of the mind, and still not growing self-satisfied upon reaching a realm of vast and perfect harmony—this alone is the learning of the celestial immortal. How can one be negligent of ritual? If one treats etiquette merely as an empty form—reverent on the outside, slack and arrogant within—that is equally to let ritual fall into neglect, and one must take warning from it.

Xie’s annotation says that in walking, stopping, sitting, and rising, the key lies in settling the spirit from within the mind; inner cultivation naturally shows itself on the outside. When the mind within is settled, the outward appearance will be reverent; when the mind within is harmonious, one’s bearing will be respectful, and ritual will then be fitting. As for the knack of settling the spirit, one may consult the section “Movement and Stillness Have Their Interval” and grasp it with care; there is no need to say more here.