《太虚集录》

The ancient sages said that cultivation has three levels: the celestial immortal, the earthly immortal, and the water immortal. Its methods may be reduced to three: rectify the body, make the mind empty and lucid, and keep the intention sincere and firm. Here “intention” means aspiration. It governs a person both inwardly and outwardly, and is therefore also called the “master.” These three are the foundation of the dual cultivation of nature and life (xingming shuangxiu)—the simultaneous cultivation of mind-nature and life—and must never be forgotten from beginning to end, at any moment. Whether the methods of cultivation should be increased or reduced must be carefully adjusted to one’s own condition and kept within due measure: innate dispositions differ in brightness and dullness, constitutions in strength and weakness, Yin-Yang in which side predominates, circumstances in busyness and leisure, and the seasons themselves differ between winter and summer.

What the alchemical texts record consists mostly of mnemonic instructions for nurturing life. In practice, due measure is essential, and cultivation must also accord with the proper time. A year has the winter solstice and the summer solstice; a month has the day of the new moon and the day of the full moon; a day has the zi hour and the wu hour. The body likewise has its natural movement of Qi (qiji; Qi, vital energy)—the sign that Qi is beginning to stir, an omen preceding the changes of ascent and descent. In the course of cultivation, different phenomena of body and mind also appear, and the firing process (huohou)—the grasp of timing and degree in cultivation—is contained within them. By observing the first stirring of this movement of Qi, one can judge the direction the change will take; once the phenomena have already appeared, good or ill fortune has often already assumed a definite form. If one wishes to make an adjustment, one should use intention to regulate it when the omen first appears; only after the phenomena have shown themselves should the method be increased or reduced as circumstances require. That alone is fitting.

If one inquires into the essentials, they amount to nothing more than ascent and descent, opening and gathering in. The benefits and harms of cultivation turn on whether one forces matters or follows what is natural, whether there is free passage or blockage and stubborn fixation, and whether one truly follows the method and properly handles doubt and interruption.

The ancients compressed a year’s cultivation into a month, a month into a day, a day into one double-hour, and one double-hour into a single quarter-hour. This is called “the work that seizes the transformations of nature” (gong duo zaohua)—that is, using the work of cultivation to bring natural change to completion. The Ruyao jing (Mirror for Compounding the Medicine) preserves this essential instruction, and later alchemical classics (danjing) all transmit it; it is said that in practice it never fails to prove effective. The ancient sages, however, also said that one must wait for the moment by following the condition of the body: here “time” refers to the living zi (huozi), the moment when the movement of Qi arises in the body, and “body” refers to the body of the Dao (daoti; Dao, the Way), the fundamental principle upon which cultivation relies.

In the winter and spring seasons, what matters most in the movement of Qi (vital energy) is that it rise and penetrate through from the rear. This method begins at the Xiaji (the lower extremity) in the lower part of the body, guiding Qi through the Weilü (the pass at the lower end of the spine), ascending along the Jiaji, passing through the Yuzhen (the pass at the back of the head), and entering the Niwan (referring to the brain). After a brief pause at the Niwan, Qi is guided downward: it descends from the Huachi (the place where the Renmai, the Conception Vessel, and the Dumai, the Governing Vessel, meet), passes through the Chonglou (the throat), pauses briefly at the Jianggong (where the heart is located), and then passes through the heart region.

Here the Niwan is called the “Sea of Marrow.” The text holds that when warm Qi reaches the brain it can be transformed into fluid. Because the Huachi is where the Ren and Du vessels meet, Qi should pause slightly as it passes. In other words, one does not pause only at the Niwan; Qi must also pass through the Huachi and the Chonglou, and pause for a moment at the Jianggong. The Chonglou is the passage through which Qi moves downward; the Jianggong is regarded as a place where Qi is stored, and the fluid that descends from the brain can be transformed into blood there.

After Qi passes through the heart region, it sometimes divides into two paths leading toward the waist and the two kidneys, and it pauses briefly there as well. The text explains that behind the heart there are two collateral vessels leading to the waist and the kidneys. Excessive strain on the mind depletes the blood of the heart, and the Jing (essence) of the two kidneys then rises in reverse to make up the loss. Those who overtax the mind therefore often suffer deficiency of kidney Qi, with soreness and pain in the lower back. This method has Qi withdraw and descend from behind the heart, carrying blood down with it, so that blood is transformed into white Qi and kidney Qi is made abundant; for this reason it should be retained for a short while.

One then senses this warmth drawing inward toward the abdomen from each side. After it circles about and gathers at the navel wheel, it should be held in contemplation for a longer time. The text calls this the working of “refining fluid into Qi.” Intention is then focused on the Mingmen (an important pass at the waist) and held in contemplation for a long time; this is called the working of “refining Qi into fluid.”

The author goes on to say that the Mingmen, the Jiangque (the place where the Jianggong is located), and the Niwan are the crucial sites at which Jing, Qi, and Shen (spirit) become sufficient in cultivation. If practice does not begin from these places, there is no way to enter it. The Shuifu (the place of kidney water in the lower body) is inherently on the cold side, the Jiangque is inherently on the warm side, the Xiaji is where turbid Yin collects, and the Niwan is where clear Qi gathers. Water by nature moves downward and fire by nature moves upward. To make water rise and fire descend requires the guidance of Zhenyi (true intent—the intention that, in cultivation, stays concentrated and does not scatter). The author also holds that cold can turn warm and heat can turn cool: this depends both on regulation by Zhenyi and on the principle of natural movement within the body.

The Shuifu inherently contains the Mingmen, like the glazed lamp before the Buddha that burns day and night without going out. The Jiangque contains the Huachi, and the Qi of the heart is stored within it; above and below, it is covered by the Sea of Marrow. The author regards these as foundations for cultivation that the human body possesses by nature. Ancient practitioners, situated in the body in this way, used Zhenyi to sustain the movement of Qi in silence.

If cultivation begins from the Shuifu, then at the “living zi” (Huozi—the moment when Yang Qi first arises) one keeps Qi from scattering outward, while silently moving the true fire of the four households so that it converges in the Mingmen. Yang Qi then gradually grows strong, Yin Qi is warmed and nourished, and the sense of cold turns warm. True Yang is also moistened, and rising and penetrating upward proceeds more smoothly. After Qi has risen and penetrated, it must still be continuously nourished with spiritual intent, so that its movement meets no obstruction. This is the natural subtle principle, spoken of in the text, by which the Dumai is opened through and the movement of Qi rises to the crown.

If cultivation begins from the Jiangque, then at the “living wu” (Huowu—the moment when Yin Qi first arises) one keeps Qi from stagnating within, while silently moving the true water of the four households so that it converges in the Huachi. Yin Qi then gradually grows strong, Yang Qi is nurtured, and the sense of heat turns cool. True Yin is also harmonized, and pouring downward proceeds more smoothly. As Qi descends it must likewise be nourished with spiritual intent, so as to avoid obstruction. The Jiangque thereby becomes clear and lucid; the practitioner is no longer troubled by sensations of heat, and the effects of transformation into blood and transformation into fluid may appear. These then pour downward into the Zhonghuang (a vital place in the middle of the body), bringing calm to the whole body. This is the natural efficacy, spoken of in the text, by which the Renmai is opened through and the movement of Qi soothes the entire body.

Finally, Qi passes downward once more through the Weilü, rising and descending in circulation and being held in contemplation according to the method set out above. By this practice formula, one celestial circuit (Zhou Tian) is reckoned complete even before Qi passes through the Weilü a second time, for the method begins at the Xiaji, and when the movement reaches the Xiaji a full circuit is complete. The ancients called this method of cultivation the “winter-spring practice.”

When summer and autumn arrive, one should accord with the Qi (vital energy) dynamic of the season; the key is first to let that dynamic flow freely. The specific method is to begin by contemplating at Huachi (the place in the mouth where fluids gather), then pass downward through Chonglou (the throat), reach Jianggong (the inner landscape where the heart is located), and contemplate there. This place seems broad and deep, calm and still; in a hazy moment one can see the water of nature (an inner vision in cultivation), its surface shimmering with blue light. The scripture specifically cautions against imitating the scene mechanically.

Next, it is as if a cool liquid drips down from above. At this time the practitioner should straighten the nape and back and slightly raise the head and face. When the cool liquid reaches the heart palace (the inner landscape of the heart), one feels even cooler. What is called “seeing the water of nature” describes an inner experience in cultivation; it does not ask one deliberately to produce a scene. At this point one should contemplate in a broad and open way. The so-called “great contemplation” is not intentionally doing anything, but passing from concentrated attention into a state of forgetting the self and forgetting thoughts.

Afterward, the liquid in the inner landscape flows downward with its momentum, dividing toward the meridians on both sides behind the heart, then reaching the waist and kidneys and the abdomen. The practitioner may feel the whole body warm and moist, with Qi pervading it, then extreme heat in the lower abdomen and a light sweat, as if bathing. The scripture holds that these sensations correspond respectively to such verifying signs of cultivation as dew-liquid transforming into blood, dew-blood transforming into Jing (essence), and the remaining liquid transforming into Qi.

If the method has not yet completed one full round and a light sweat, a feeling as of bathing, has already appeared, one may also stop. Before stopping, one should for the moment set aside attention to the sensation of heat. After that, one need only use a little intention to guide the breath backward. In summer the inner landscape should be cool; if there is no cold stagnation in the body, practicing until a light sweat is already enough. Continuing to apply deliberate force is, on the contrary, unsuited to the season. If the Qi dynamic has already passed through the passes and apertures and reached the spine, then even in summer one may guide it a little farther inward, so as to dissolve the Yin accumulated in the body.

When the breath reaches Niwan (the inner landscape at the crown of the head), one should carry out one “great contemplation.” The scripture takes this experience as the completion of the opening of the Du channel (the vessel running along the back), and also as the basis on which the Ren channel (the vessel along the front of the body) begins to open. It bears on such teachings of cultivation as the peace of Jiangque (the Crimson Gate), the cleanness of Huachi, and the meeting of the inner medicine and the outer medicine. At this time the mind should be empty and clear and the thought genuine, following what is natural, neither deliberately pushing nor deliberately restraining. If fair scenes appear—the Xiao terrace and jasper halls, the Lang gardens and golden courts—one should remain reverent and solemnly still, and not become absorbed in admiring them. Even if the scenes grow ever clearer, they still belong to visions that appear in the cultivation of body and mind, and cannot yet be regarded as truly attaining the Dao. The scripture calls them “true shadows,” meaning that they may serve as reflections by which a later verified realm can be recognized. At this time one should only let the mind become still more pure and quiet, and avoid vain thoughts.

After that, contemplate once more from Huachi beneath the brain to Jianggong. The scripture says this stage is especially crucial: though the method is subtle, the work is still carried out in Wuwei (non-action). Jianggong is said to be the place where blood is transformed. When the mind is cool and clear, blood and Qi can arise; blood must return into the meridians, so the Qi dynamic should remain empty and still. If the mind is not relaxed and quiet enough, the Qi dynamic may become blocked; if the mind does not gather and contain it, blood and Qi may again move without proper measure. One should guide along with the Qi dynamic while also keeping to the requirements of bodily posture, especially drawing the posture of the chest backward. If these requirements are violated, the results may differ greatly, and may even lead to disorders of the blood. The scripture calls drawing the chest backward the essential point of “emptying the heart and quieting the gate.”

If the practitioner feels clear and refreshed throughout the body, the ancients called this “one celestial circuit.” The method for summer and autumn is, in outline, like this. The ancients cultivated in accord with the seasons, and the methods they used also varied with the season.

What has been described above is the ordinary method of practice, suited to those whose bodies are free of illness. If one is ill, there are other corresponding methods of practice, which should be weighed and applied according to one’s own condition. In every case, practice must accord with the body of the Dao (the Way)—that is, with the patterns by which the Dao operates—and must also respond to the proper time; only then will the results be marked. One must never cling rigidly to a single method.

If it is the summer or autumn season, yet cold accumulated in the patient’s body will not disperse, one should first alternate the practice formulas of winter and summer. The ordinary method for summer and autumn consists mainly in causing Qi (vital energy) to descend. If one practices the winter-spring method, after the Qi has descended to the abdomen one should intensify visualization and the circulation of Qi so that the abdomen grows warm. When the sensation of Qi appears, one then drives it backward, lifts the buttocks, and directs both Qi and intention to concentrate at the weilü (the end of the spine), passing through the back and rising straight to the crown of the head. Thorough sweating is taken as the sign that the practice has proved effective. In practice thereafter, one need only hold to the formula of “forgetting heat”: when the mind is still to the utmost and can enter deeply into a state without sound or sight, the sensation of heat will recede. Increasing or reducing the method step by step is precisely the formula of alternating practice.

If one practices only the ordinary method of summer and autumn, one must wait until the accumulated cold within the body has been completely expelled before doing so; otherwise it will not only be ineffective but may even aggravate the illness.

Those who have long suffered from excessive phlegm are suited to treatment and regulation in summer. (At this time the movement of Qi (qi) tends to vent outward. The practitioner follows this tendency and applies an attacking treatment, so that what has accumulated in the body vents outward together with the Qi, and the root of the illness can thereby be removed. This is an ancient method of according with the seasons.)

The method of practice is to begin with the exercise that makes the Qi descend along its proper course. Once the Qi has come down, one then practices the exercise that makes it sink and gather in a concentrated infusion. One must practice until Qi is moving in the abdomen and the body also feels warm, and only then perform the instructions such as raising the buttocks. If sweat appears after practice and the heat becomes hard to bear, one adds the clearing-and-descending exercise until the Qi descends and the chest feels easy and open. Once the Qi has descended and the mind feels cool and clear, one immediately continues by concentrating Shen (shen) and intention upon the Mingmen (mingmen, the place between the two kidneys at the waist). When one feels the Qi thrusting toward some spot, one again performs the instructions such as raising the buttocks, and sweat will then break out. After the sweat has emerged, one goes on to the clearing-and-descending method. After alternating in this way for seven days, or for fourteen, the Qi will usually warm and rise more readily; one must still add the exercises of sinking the abdomen, infusing the spirit, and the like.

The abdomen-sinking exercise lets the Qi in the chest descend from the right side, circle the navel, and then turn toward the left, while one keeps the intention fixed there and urges the Qi downward. It is said that in this way the phlegm is discharged together with the stool. The spirit-infusing instruction, by contrast, lets the Qi descend from the left side of the chest, circle the navel, and then turn toward the right; one keeps the intention fixed there, and then moves Shen and intention so that they lodge at the Mingmen. According to this account, descending toward the left is “advancing the fire” (jinhuo), and descending toward the right is “withdrawing the talisman” (tuifu), and each has its own finer points.

If one continues to practice in this way, then after the Qi rises there will often be a great deal of cool fluid flowing down from the neck and the chest. (When this fluid descends, the face must be tilted slightly upward; otherwise untoward effects may result.) One must never take it for “sweet dew” (ganlu, the precious fluids spoken of in the terminology of cultivation). What is meant here is in fact “muddy Jing” (jing): a descending substance quickened by being warmed and refined through Shen and intention, and also called gaoyu. If it does not undergo vigorous refinement and transformation at the navel wheel, it may still be harmful. At this time one should concentrate with special care, gathering Shen and intention into the Mingmen and waiting until the fire-Qi is aroused. (The method is this: when the external kidney—that is, the genitals—rises, one uses intention to draw it back; it is said that the fire-Qi will then blaze strongly.) If the descending substance is as hot as being scorched by charcoal fire, one leaves the intention within it so as to refine and transform it.

At this stage one should temporarily set aside the exercise that makes the Qi vent outward, only circulating and not chasing the sensation of heat, and set true intention (zhenyi) as a horizontal barrier beneath the chest and abdomen, forbidding the Qi to vent upward. This is essential. If through the slightest lapse the Qi has already vented out, one looks upward with both eyes and uses intention to draw down the Qi of Qian (qian; this refers to Yang Qi, yang qi) so as to press upon it, and the Qi will fall back of itself. One must also at once, following this momentum, turn the intention toward the rear and attend to the place that has already vented. It is said that at this time the “lamb” will break through the passes and apertures and then emerge. One then still guides it with intention until it vents to the crown of the head, whereupon sweat pours like rain. (According to this account, this is accumulated Yin (yin) transformed into sweat and expelled. One should not let the saying that “too much hot sweat will consume and injure Yang Qi” lead one to mishandle the method.)

Afterward, the Qi will gradually descend from the crown to the Crimson Palace (Jiangque, jiangque: the palatial site within the body as named in Daoist internal cultivation). If a single drop of fluid falls swiftly and is exceedingly cool and clear, it is true fluid. If fluid does fall, yet neither swiftly nor with cool clarity, it is still a transformation of muddy matter and is not sweet dew. Only when practice brings forth sweet dew can one count this a great result; yet one must always first clear away the accumulated Yin completely, and only then seek the effects that follow.

If internal heat and restless agitation appear, use only the “Shuaijiang jue” (the method of guiding the movement of Qi [vital energy] downward); one may also add the “Xuxin gongfa” (the method of making the heart and Shen [spirit] empty and still). If there is stagnation from food and drink, it will likewise disperse of itself. One then practices “guiding fire back to its source,” concentrating Shen and intention at the Mingmen (the place between the two kidneys at the waist). When one feels Qi moving to the Xiaji (the lower part of the body), one follows its changes and circulates it so that turbid fire travels downward; with a slight use of intention to guide it, one sends it out through the “Yumen” (here referring to the lower excretory opening).

Next, both eyes look upward toward the Niwan (the site of internal cultivation in the upper part of the head); one draws back the clear Qi, closes the portals, and then lets the clear Qi descend from the Jiangque (the site within the chest) to the Qilun (the navel), pass into the Zuqiao (the fundamental aperture spoken of in internal cultivation), and maintain it with the “Wangzi jue” (the method of not clinging to thoughts, so that heart and spirit return to the stillness of forgetting). When heart and spirit are concentrated and settled and the breathing is calm and even, the chest and diaphragm naturally feel open and at ease, and the ailment recedes.

Only then may one go on to practice “filling the abdomen,” while at the same time concentrating Shen and intention at the Mingmen, whereupon the abdomen will become full of itself. Afterward one may practice the “Tongdu fa” (the method of opening the Dumai, that is, the channel along the midline of the back). Once the Dumai is open, fluids will certainly descend, but one must carefully distinguish true fluid from ordinary fluid; this too must be kept firmly in mind. Only when what descends is indeed the true fluid may one cultivate, in sequence, the methods of refining Jing (essence) into Qi, refining Qi into Shen, and refining Shen to return to emptiness.

There is a condition that manifests as heat in the blood aspect and impaired movement of Qi (vital energy), with tightness and fullness in the chest and diaphragm (the chest and the diaphragmatic region). When this occurs, one first practices the “method of emptying the heart” (a practice that renders the heart’s Shen (spirit) empty and still), and then adds the “practice of retreating the back” (a method that uses intention to guide the movement of Qi backward). During practice, one feels two streams of heat branch out behind the heart and run along the region behind the heart straight to the waist and kidneys, the heat like hot broth being poured in. While practicing this set, slightly lifting the chest upward yields better results. Afterward one feels the current of heat circling the navel, warmth filling the abdomen, and a light sweat over the whole body. At this point the mind should feel eased and expansive; this comes chiefly from the key practice of “retreating the back.”

The practice of retreating the back uses intention at the Quepen (here referring to the relevant part of the body) to guide the movement of Qi backward. The Quepen is also called the “storehouse of Qi,” and is said to be the site of the Crimson Pass (a pass related to the transformation and generation of blood). Since Li Shaojun (a fangshi of the Han dynasty), very few people have understood this method.

Those who suffer bleeding of the collateral vessels or severe vomiting of blood should likewise first practice this formula, and then practice “opening and clearing the middle pass,” which includes the method of emptying the heart. Some also stir the movement of Qi from the Huachi (a term of Daoist internal cultivation for the place where fluids gather in the mouth), and then combine it with “Qian metal” (a term of Daoist internal cultivation for the intention or site associated with metal Qi) and the method of emptying the heart; the condition can be cured in this way as well. These methods are collectively called the “summer–autumn practices.”

Some hold that one should wait until the abdomen has grown warm before practicing methods such as lifting the buttocks and opening a passage along the spine all the way to the brain. Once Qi (vital energy) has circulated to the brain, one fully sustains the visualization in the mind and, together with turning the inner gaze back upon the Niwan (the cultivation site within the head), guides the true Qi of the Qian Palace (the heavenly position symbolized by the head) downward to meet the Qi of the Ren and Du vessels at the Huachi (beneath the tongue in the mouth). One will then naturally feel the fluids in the mouth increase; they are swallowed mouthful by mouthful, sent to the Jiangque (near the heart), warmed and nourished for a moment, and then circulated to the Zhonghuang (the cultivation region in the middle of the body).

When one feels the Jiangque cool and clear and the Zhonghuang warm and moist, one may go on to cultivate the “Divine Art of Tracing Antiquity.” This is called “opening the middle pass,” also “cleaving primordial chaos,” and in the elixir texts it is called “opening the mysterious pass.” The secret is only to forget everything while practicing, without even retaining the thought of “forgetting.” After this pass is opened, the generating medicine—the Jing (essence) and Qi produced in Neidan (internal alchemy)—has a place in which to arise, and the storing medicine likewise has a place in which to be set. What is the state once it has opened? It is vast without bounds and deep beyond fathoming. This is the crucial practice for transforming and establishing the foundation of life, and practitioners should treasure it. Alas—if one has toiled diligently in cultivation yet still has not met an enlightened teacher, one should continue seeking a perfected person (a highly accomplished adept who has succeeded in cultivating the Dao (the Way)); practitioners must exert themselves.

If someone’s Yin cold, long accumulated, transforms into fiery heat, so that the symptoms look like a surplus of Yang Qi, the method is first to practice the summer and autumn methods in order to deal with the outward symptoms; after the condition has eased, one then practices the winter and spring methods. What is spoken of here is the case in which the Yin cold has not yet completely transformed into fiery heat.

If the Yin cold has already completely transformed into fiery heat, the method is to lead the fire back to its source and, as circumstances warrant, to combine this with the summer-and-autumn descending formula, so as to help the fire Qi return to its source; only afterward is there hope of harmony. For this illness one should take clarity, stillness, and ease as the guiding principle, regarding oneself as already dead; the moment a thought arises, one sweeps it away with the Buddha’s name. Only when the fluids in the mouth have gathered to the point of being about to be swallowed can this take effect.

If yin-cold accumulates in the body and the movement of Qi (vital energy) is obstructed, and it has not yet transformed into internal fire, practice must center on internal circulation of Qi, coordinated with external rubbing and shoulder-raising, and be repeated in continuous cycles before any effect can appear. The external methods include rubbing the lower back and kidney region, the abdomen, the legs, knees, feet, and hands; alternately raising both shoulders; turning the waist; drawing the legs back and swaying the waist; twisting the neck and supporting heaven; as well as bathing the face and swallowing saliva. The internal methods include concentrating Shen (spirit), breath retention, and the like. Breath retention here means gathering in the breath during practice so that it pauses for a moment.

Once the abdomen feels warm, add the method of penetrating backward. Only when breath retention has been practiced to proficiency can the effect of outward penetration appear. At this stage the True Qi (Zhenqi)—the original Qi within the body—is insufficient and the yin-cold is still heavy, so Yang Qi cannot overcome Yin Qi, and results are hard to obtain. This is like placing a basin of fire in an ice cellar: warmth is difficult to feel.

One must therefore add external rubbing and shoulder-raising while practicing breath retention internally, so that the movement of Qi becomes active; only then is there hope that True Qi will penetrate outward. When Yang Qi is abundant and signs appear that the breath penetrates of itself and breaks through obstruction of itself, use intention to guide it in opening and breaking through the passes and orifices. What is called “self-penetration and self-attack” is still brought about with the aid of breath retention and similar methods. Only when Yang Qi is sufficient can penetration occur.

If the accumulation of Yin-cold is relatively severe and blocks many of the meridians, intensifying practice in order to regulate and treat the condition becomes still more difficult, because there is a great deal of obstruction within the body. One should first practice breath-retention—temporarily holding the breath—and then direct the intention to the Kun abdomen, the Dantian (energy center) region in the lower abdomen, so that Qi (vital energy) gradually opens the meridians of its own accord and signs of free passage appear. As a rule, one must sweat as profusely as rain, and only after several such occasions will results appear.

When practice has advanced to this stage and begins to take effect, one must still concentrate on directing the intention and nurture the true fire—the warming and nourishing Qi within the body. If one stops at the first fear of fatigue, the fault arises that the furnace fire grows cold and the efficacy is broken off. Why must one proceed in this way? What originally stagnated in the meridians, once warmed and nourished by Qi, will move along with the Qi and gather in the lower body. The reason people so often experience a downward discharge while practicing lies precisely here. When Yin-cold in the lower region is powerful, it is like a room walled in on every side by ice: although a brazier brings warmth, it still cannot overcome the cold. The only recourse is to keep adding fuel and to apply oneself with diligence; even so, results may not appear at once. One must therefore persist without counting the days, until the walls of ice have entirely melted—only then can one speak of great effect.

It is regrettable that those who study the practice often fail to understand this and commonly stop halfway at just this point; from ancient times onward, such people have not been few. One must therefore persevere, diligent and courageous in holding on, and continue to practice whether or not results have yet appeared. In this way, although what stagnates and obstructs may be abundant, there will at last come a day when it is resolved—so why worry that in the end one will fail to see a marked effect?

Looking across the world, those who suffer from this illness amount to roughly two or three in ten, and most are merchants or scholars. Why is this? Because the illness generally arises from toil of the mind and spirit together with bodily idleness: when the mind is overworked, the spirit grows weak; when the body lacks activity, Qi readily stagnates. Those whose spirit is weak and whose Qi mechanism is stagnant fear fatigue all the more and prefer ease—and this is the origin of accumulated Yin-cold. To cure the illness, one must change one’s former habits of life; if the change can be made, the illness will of itself improve. After the illness has improved, one may then go further and seek the methods of practice. This is the steady and proper path; one need only follow it.

What has been set forth above is huagong, the practice of resolving stagnation accumulated within the body. One must change one’s former habits of life; once the habits are changed, the illness will of itself improve. After the illness has improved, one then seeks the methods of practice. This is the steady and proper path; one need only follow it.

What was set forth above is the work of dissolving obstructions and of regulating and nourishing. Those whose root capacity is insufficient often find it hard to persevere to the end; that is why, out of compassion, practices of different levels—eight sections, twelve sections, sixteen sections, twenty-four sections, and the like—are transmitted. Yin Jing (essence; the bodily substance associated with yin vital energy) forms when the movement of Qi (vital energy) becomes congested and stagnant. When the movement of Qi is congested, Jing and Qi congeal and stagnate, and the blood likewise becomes stagnant. Unless one applies martial practice (here meaning the more active, effortful methods of guiding and exercising) to clear the passages and temper the body, it is hard to see any effect. Students who have not understood this actually give up and stop practicing. This is probably not because they fear the trouble, but because they feel these minor techniques are not worth doing. Alas—just as one who would climb high must begin from a low place—how much more so when these martial practices were originally borrowed only to treat illness; how could they be taken as the means of attaining the Dao (the Way)? Students ought to examine themselves.

Respectfully noted: the sages of antiquity left practices coordinated with the four seasons, and further gathered them within the twelve double-hours. I now explain them for students according to the Qi-signs proper to each of the twelve double-hours.

For the ordinary person, the mutual reflection of water and moon (a state of body and mind as empty, still, and natural as the moon reflected in water) appears of itself at the exact point of the zi hour. That the “I” seems not to exist and yet there is still awareness is the state at the exact point of the chou hour. Perceiving that the breath flows freely and without obstruction is the exact point of the yin hour. The movement of Qi being full and vigorous is the exact point of the mao hour. Preserving and guarding emptiness without losing what is present is the practice at the exact point of the chen hour. The signs appearing only faintly, hard to grasp, is the exact point of the si hour. Scenes of every kind presenting themselves in profusion is the Qi-configuration at the exact point of the wu hour. The true and the illusory shifting without constancy is the condition at the exact point of the wei hour. Sweeping away a thought the moment it arises is the method at the exact point of the shen hour. The nature of spiritual clarity revealing itself alone is the sign at the exact point of the you hour. Hearing, sight, and the other senses vanishing all at once, so that no clue or beginning can be discerned—this appears only at the exact point of the xu hour. One must take care not to be startled or doubtful, and should hold the practice according to the rule of the exact point of the xu hour. When the exact point of the hai hour is reached, body and mind become clear and still.

Although this describes a fixed sequence in the movement of Qi (vital energy), only what presents itself naturally is genuine, which is why it is marked at the exact Zi hour (zizheng). Practitioners need only follow this subtle indication in due order; they will naturally accord with the movement of Qi and will not go astray along the way. The movement of Qi in which water and the moon reflect one another is likewise genuine only when it arises of itself, and so it too is marked at the exact Zi hour.

Water and the moon mirror one another, and their root lies in luminous clarity and stillness. When the practitioner abides in pure, limpid quiet, with not a single thought arising, the breath becomes clear in the extreme, and water and moon appear of themselves. This is the Kan image of “Heaven’s One generates Water” (Kan, one of the Bagua, the Eight Trigrams, being the trigram of Water). The middle line of the Kan trigram is the root of the moon’s appearing: once the substance is present, its function manifests naturally, and so this is called “obtained of itself.” The principle is indeed so, yet one must also know that this step begins at the very bottom and corresponds to the scenery of winter. Water appearing and the moon rising are precisely the living Zi hour—the moment in cultivation when Yang Qi, the bright and active side of Yin-Yang, first stirs—manifesting within, which is why it is said to occur at the exact Zi hour. At this time the practitioner should have no sense of a body. When one becomes aware that the body exists, it is already the scenery of the living Chou hour appearing within the body, just as earth lies beneath heaven: the image called “daiqia taili.” From non-being to being, from emptiness to substantiality—this is precisely the principle by which the great Dao (the Way) operates of itself. Hence it is said, “I am without, yet I become aware of something”: one has noticed it, but has not yet clung to it.

Once aware that the body exists, one will of oneself perceive the stirring and stillness of the Qi within it, and will then further sense the breath circulating and flowing. If one merely remains where nothing is heard and nothing is seen, and yet discerns something, this is the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—just beginning to appear. It corresponds to the exact Yin hour (yinzheng), the emblem of autumn. When the movement of Qi grows full and vigorous and tends to issue outward, this is the scenery of the living Mao hour within the body, meaning that seeing and hearing are about to open; the exact Chen hour (chenzheng) is this stage.

By then every sensation and every movement of Qi has appeared. Practitioners of old simply set the mind on neither calculating nor discriminating. Even when seeing and hearing had already arisen, they treated what was present as present without clinging to it, and devoted themselves to guarding a state of undifferentiated calm. In this way they could preserve within it all the various manifestations, which is why it is called “preserving non-being.” Looked at closely, this is guarding being by means of guarding non-being, and so it is a concrete method of cultivation, called the practice of the exact Chen hour. A method of practice means letting every manifestation rest in a state utterly free of attachment.

Within this there are two conditions, concealment and manifestation. Practitioners of old merely followed what was natural, adding not the slightest deliberate maintenance. The exact Si hour (sizheng) is therefore called only “the appearance of Qi” (qixiang), indicating that no further effort is required. The exact Wu hour (wuzheng) is the same: one simply allows the movement of Qi to spread of itself, and so it is summed up in the two words “the configuration of Qi” (qiju).

The exact Wu hour is the beginning of the living Wu hour, when Yin Qi first arises, and it corresponds to the scenery of midsummer. At this time every pathway seems to open at once, and the mind and Shen (spirit), together with the gaze, are easily bewildered by the profusion of scenes. Toward the end of this stage a deep stirring of feeling naturally arises; that is only human. Practitioners of old regarded it merely as a change in the movement of Qi, allowed nothing within to be shaken, and let it wax and wane, returning it to the natural course of things. They had already seen through the principles of the world; so when numinous realms appear, they simply let them show and hide, and take them for mirages. This is the movement of Qi at the exact Wei hour (weizheng). The practitioner need only guard what is originally true.

This, however, is not easy for a beginner. The numinous realm may grow ever stranger, the scenery seeming to change with every step, and so stir the mind, Shen, and the gaze. One should sweep the thought away the moment it arises; only then does one accord with the practice of the living shen hour. Once this threshold is passed, the inner light of wisdom becomes full. Amid the turbid and the heavy a single thread of numinous clarity appears, and the movement of Qi tends toward peace: this is the condition of the exact You hour (youzheng). At this time one should not linger in the bright state, but let Shen abide in stillness, and go on into a realm where nothing is seen or heard and even the traces have vanished. This genuine realm can be met with, but it cannot be sought. True Yang is thereby nourished, and true Yin grows because of it. This is “before the image of the Sovereign” (xiang di zhi xian), the state before the myriad things have yet appeared. By the seasons of Heaven, it corresponds to the exact Xu hour (xuzheng) in the autumn of the year.

Beginners, though, have not yet realized this. Reaching this point in cultivation, they may instead mistake the total disappearance of seeing and hearing for their own inability to detect any sign, and so become anxious and confused. Practitioners of old, compassionate toward this condition, specifically point out the method of rizheng and give warning again and again. If one continues to cultivate in accordance with that warning, one can reach pure, limpid stillness and accord with the Dao of Heaven. This is the living method of the Hai hour, what Laozi called “letting the mind roam at the beginning of things.”

The subtle secret lies in the single word ru (“as” or “like”). The wondrous meaning of ru is the root of the sense of nowhere coming to rest, and it is also the complete reflection of the great Dao. If practitioners continue to cultivate by following this ru, they will pass again and again through appearing, guarding, and advancing, entering layer upon layer without end, and will naturally understand that the shaping of things can be mastered, and that destiny is not wholly fixed by Heaven. Cultivated with a sincere heart, and given time, this practice may set one advancing side by side with the immortals of old.

What has been set out above is this: if the methods of contracting the year, contracting the month, contracting the day, contracting the hour, and contracting the quarter-hour, as transmitted by earlier masters, are carried out in due sequence, such a numinous realm will appear. The practitioner must be adept at comprehending them before the several methods can be mastered in full. The fundamental purport of this practice lies in “non-abiding” (the mind neither clinging to nor dwelling upon any phenomenal state), and the crux rests entirely in the formula of “non-movement.”

[This formula consists only in “non-abiding” and “non-movement”; indeed it is so. If the practitioner carefully savors the annotations above, the complete method will naturally be grasped. The fundamental purport lies in non-abiding, and the crux depends wholly on the formula of non-movement.

[The formula consists only in non-abiding and non-movement; indeed it is so. If the practitioner carefully savors the annotations above, each step will naturally accord with the proper measure.]]

Thus, when practice reaches the exact quarter of the hai hour, the method consists only in concentrating mind and Shen (spirit) upon the lower field (the lower Dantian, energy center). In applying effort one should seem attentive and yet seem inattentive. Suddenly a red sun is seen emerging from within the eye of the Heavenly Heart; at first it appears no larger than a bean.

[Respectful note: The moon spoken of here emerges from the sea-bottom at the very lowest point and has already risen to the crown of the head, borne upon the central Qi (vital energy). At this time the practitioner’s attainment reaches a state in which body and mind seem alike not to exist, and so a vision like the moon’s reflection in water appears. One should know that the lunar po (the yin Jing, essence, of the moon) still lies hidden in the Kan position (the position symbolizing water and the kidneys); its radiance shines upward, and only after the Qian Qi (the Qi symbolizing yang) has condensed does such a vision appear. At that moment the water of Kan is clear and still, and the moon’s reflection is mirrored in the ripples; hence it is called “mutual reflection.”

The moon gives forth radiance because liver yang pours downward, drawing the moon’s reflection to rest; the hun is gestated by the moon, and thus solar brilliance appears within the moon. This is also why the moon exhales the light of the sun. Yet at this time the solar Jing has not yet risen and still lies hidden at the sea-bottom. Thereafter, when the solar Jing ascends, it should rise through the Du meridian (the channel along the midline of the back); the method consists only in guiding it backward with intention, and only then can it rise. If one mistakenly causes it to ascend along the Ren meridian in the middle of the body, the consequences would be hard to foresee.]

One must be sure to cast off distracting thoughts. After a while, when the moon withdraws and the sun appears, one need only quiet the mind and wait for the breath to change. If the abdomen feels warm, as if under moxibustion, this is the effect of “the sun bathing the sea floor” (ri yu haidi: nourishing the lower abdomen with inner breath), and the whole body will therefore feel full and harmonized.

One may next feel the inner Qi (vital energy) moving from behind; the breath then passes through the Weilu (the pass at the lower end of the spine, near the coccyx) and slowly opens upward, so that no disorder arises. When the warming Qi of the sea floor has not yet opened through, one must on no account panic or forcibly raise the Qi; otherwise an unforeseen condition may appear at once, with a sensation as if fire were darting about inside the body. At that moment one need only apply again and again the “formula of forgetting” (wangjue: a method of relaxing the mind and Shen [spirit] and not clinging to intention), and one will recover.

When practitioners of old met this situation, they would slightly adjust the mind and Shen and guide the breath to continue opening upward; in this way it could naturally break through the passes and move upward. After the breath reached the area of the occipital bone, they guided it further by intention. This “Jade Pillow” (Yuzhen: the pass where the back of the head meets the neck) is called the “Iron Wall” in the elixir texts, and in imagery drawn from the heavens it is called the “Gang boundary”; without this true Qi it is hard to pass through. Guiding the breath through this place by means of true Qi is called “opening the Du” (tong du: bringing the Dumai, the Governor Vessel, into free passage). When practice reaches the opening of the Dumai, half the work may be reckoned complete.

In doing this work one may guide only by intention, and must strictly avoid pushing with force. Once forceful effort is mixed in, one may hear sounds like thunder and a thunderclap. Even if a practitioner comes to this through a lapse in keeping the precept, one must not be alarmed. One need only sit quietly with both hands forming the “soul-storing formula” (canghun jue: a kind of finger formula); even if greatly startled, there is no danger that the Shen and soul will scatter.

At this point, if one only grows still more calm and settled and waits for a while, a single drop will fall from the void like spring water. In taking in its quality, one finds it thoroughly cool, and sometimes exceedingly sweet. As for whether a bodily form can be sensed when this drop descends, having form is well enough, while formlessness is still more wondrous beyond words.

To understand this passage, one must know that this work of stillness and concentration, beginning in deliberate effort of mind and gradually reaching the point where even “forgetting” is no longer kept in mind, often takes a good while. The text therefore goes on to say “thereupon it is present”: the sweet dew is to be obtained naturally from the state of forgetting and forgetting again, and only what is gained in this way is genuine. At this point the practice has reached the realm of “no body,” which is why it says “of itself from emptiness.”

The practitioner must also understand that “experiencing it” does not mean one should examine it in the present moment; it is a way of speaking that belongs to recollection afterward. At the time, one should simply let body and mind rest in empty stillness, neither distinguishing cool clarity from sweet savor nor reckoning with form and formlessness. Only then has the practice truly arrived. Before the sweet dew has dripped down, one feels only empty stillness, with nothing there; when it does drip down, one can perceive it falling out of that empty stillness. Only by perceiving it does one avoid sinking into blank vacancy. Without such perception, the practice easily approaches dull torpor and scattered distraction, which is not a proper method of cultivation. If one deliberately adds examination, one falls instead into the obstructions of emotion and consciousness and remains at the level of consciousness. One must therefore be careful.

The adepts of old said that this single drop of sweet dew falls straight into the Crimson Palace—the Neidan (internal alchemy) site where the heart is located—and one can well imagine its speed. This is called “true Yin.” When the sweet dew descends, slow is well enough and swift is well enough: these two instances of “well enough” remind later students that they need not inquire into or fuss over such circumstances, lest consciousness intervene on purpose. To let the sweet dew drip down without the slightest obstruction and reach the heart little by little is rarer still. From this one may also sense that a swift descent is perhaps the true state of affairs. There is another account: what has form and comes swiftly is called “jade liquor”; what is formless and comes swiftly is called “golden liquor.”

This secretly transmitted teaching I once received from Elder Taixu. Now that I am advanced in years, I fear it will in the end be lost, and so I have set it down in this compilation and transmit it in detail to those who have the affinity to receive it.

Taixu Weng (the Elder of the Great Void) said: “Changes that have form come quickly, while formless changes come slowly; both belong to ‘subtle existence’—a state that is subtle yet truly real. In cultivation one should experience them personally and discern them with genuine care.”

What is meant here is that when Qi (vital energy) circulates to the region of the heart, one first feels extreme cold, which then turns to extreme heat—heat like boiling broth being dashed about. Only this is the true “fluid” (the true fluid spoken of in cultivation). If one practices merely according to a more superficial account, the work still belongs to the postnatal level: it can only moisten the movement of Qi, and must not be regarded as the realm of immortality.

In actual practice, however, one must strictly refrain from conjecture and distracting thoughts, and simply continue the work in proper sequence; in this way a certain efficacy can still be gained. The methods transmitted by ancient cultivators—some taking the seasonal changes of Heaven as their guide, others the number of days in the year and the hours of each day—are exceedingly flexible and profound. The transformations of the four seasons mentioned above, together with the various inner scenes within the twelve double-hours, can all be condensed into a single moment; the conditions and visions involved can indeed be described step by step.

Yet the student should ask himself: Can I observe the precepts with care at every step, entirely free of attachment throughout the process—or is attachment secretly mixed in? If there is no attachment while practicing, the process will naturally neither deviate nor change; if there is attachment, changes will arise in the course of practice, and the scenes one sees will differ greatly. Could the scenes set forth by the ancient cultivators fail to be real?

Elder Taixu said: “If, in the course of cultivation, a practitioner deliberately watches the thoughts, begins to speculate and infer, or falls into discriminating consciousness, the emotions and scenes that arise in the mind will shift in unpredictable ways, quite unlike the states described by the ancients. At that point one should promptly stop the practice and, for the time being, do nothing else, waiting a while until the thoughts grow quiet and the breath becomes steady.

After that, do not continue forward along the original steps; it is better to return to the preceding step. One must once again reach the numinous state (lingjing, the psychosomatic condition that appears at the initial stage of cultivation) of the first beginning, fully matching the experience of that time, before one may continue cultivating downward in sequence. Otherwise, it is better to set aside all the previous work and start anew from the point of entry.

What the ancient sages meant by ‘In cultivation, what is precious is to attain centered rectitude, and the timing of heaven must also accord’ is this: gather in sequence the numinous states of the temporal order of a year, a month, a day, and an hour, so that they manifest within a single moment; within that, the four seasons and the twelve months are still complete. Each month has its new moon and full moon (shuowang, the changes of the lunar phases around the first and the fifteenth) and its thirty days; each day again has twelve double-hours, and each double-hour has a scene that presents itself naturally. This method is exceedingly subtle and true, yet only by settling the mind, observing with care, and cultivating in sequence without confusion can one accord, step by step, with the standards of the ancients.

Alas, one should know that the method of gathering the scenes of an entire year into a single moment lies only in making the dynamic of Qi (vital energy) lively and circulating, and in letting the mind settle into stillness. Cultivated in this way, the practice naturally accords with the ancient method, and each double-hour will have a scene that presents itself naturally. This method is exceedingly subtle and true; only by settling the mind, observing with care, and cultivating in sequence without confusion can one accord, step by step, with the standards of the ancients. To cultivate in this way for the time of one stick of incense is like seizing a hundred years of creative transformation (zaohua, the power by which heaven and earth generate and change). The ancient sages therefore called it ‘merit that seizes creative transformation.’ The matter sounds difficult, yet in practice it is not hard; those who study and cultivate should apply themselves.”

The so-called zi hour and wu hour each originally have a “living zi” and a “living wu.” The winter solstice and summer solstice of the year are the zi and wu of real change in the movement of heaven and earth, while the zi and wu fixed by year, month, day, and hour are the fixed zi and wu divided according to the calendar. From the standpoint of personal cultivation, the winter and summer solstices of heaven and earth, as well as the zi and wu of the year, month, and day, all belong to fixed zi and wu. Only the zi hour and wu hour within a single day can be called the living zi and wu of the human body.

Even so, this is still the living zi and wu that alchemical texts were obliged to point out for the sake of teaching—the living zi and wu spoken of when “the first yang begins to stir.” If one inquires into the truly living zi and wu, a further distinction must be made. The truly living zi and wu are to be discerned in the formless and imageless: when practice reaches a stillness free of seeking, one suddenly perceives a subtle stirring within the body—this is the first appearance of the living zi; next one feels that inner function surge forth into clear manifestation—this is the evident sign of the living zi; then one senses the movement of Qi (vital energy) naturally filling and issuing inward, about to reach the male root (the external genitalia), which indicates that the inner Qi of the living zi is abundant.

At this point one uses the heavenly eye (the intention of concentrating the spirit and observing during inner contemplation) to concentrate the spirit and discern, sending Qi in reverse ascent along the Du meridian (the channel along the midline of the back) up to Kunlun (the region of the crown). One briefly retains it with intention; when the sea of brain and marrow is felt to have grown calm, Qi naturally descends, breath arises in the Huachi (where the fluids of the mouth gather), and collects at the Jiangque (an alchemical term for the region of the heart). At this time the heart-spirit is settled, and the various Qi within the body each find their proper place. This is called “taking Kan to fill Li” (replenishing Li fire with the Qi of Kan water, referring to the harmonizing of Yin-Yang in internal refinement).

If the external kidney (here referring to the male genitalia) has already risen and stray thoughts arise at the same time, the external kidney will become still more erect. When ancient practitioners met this situation, they would immediately use intention to draw the Qi back, sending it in reverse from the sea bottom (near the perineum) upward through the crown and storing it in the Qian ding (an alchemical term for the head), remaining natural and not deliberately pursuing it. Nourished by the sea of marrow, the Qi transforms into a fluid like jade dew, which naturally flows into the mouth and then descends from the Quepen (the region near the collarbones). Remaining at the Quepen, the fluid further changes into a red liquid and divides to flow behind the heart. If at this moment one encounters the Qi of Kan yang rising in response, one can experience another kind of inner vitality. One need only experience it, however, and must not be drawn by desire; the moment the mind wavers, one should immediately draw the true Qi of the Qian palace downward to press it down, and clarity of mind will return.

One may also use intention to envelop the sensation that has appeared, gather it into the lower Dantian (energy center), and warm and nurture it fully, then guide Qi up from the back to the crown and store it in the Niwan (the brain), so that inner stray thoughts and the pull of the senses are gradually eliminated. The “elimination” spoken of here means placing sensations such as seeing and hearing outside intention and no longer clinging to them.

Afterward the fluids of the Huachi well forth and are slowly swallowed. One will feel the Jiangque bright as gold and jade, then vast without bound, as though a mirage-like scene had appeared, now distant and now near. Only then does the practitioner understand that the work of nature (the practice of cultivating the mind and nurturing one’s nature) is the foundation for preserving life. The method is to let it appear without clinging; otherwise images of sexual desire may arise in the mind and disturb one’s resolve. One need only gather these appearances with intention, without examining them closely, and quickly draw the gaze and the spirit of the ears back to the place of neither seeing nor hearing. Resting in this way for a short while, one may enter a state in which body, mind, and the outer world all seem to disappear.

If afterward one again senses an atmosphere of generative harmony appearing within clear stillness, one need not pursue or interrupt it, and may go further to a state in which both the subject and the method are forgotten. At this point one suddenly becomes aware once more of one’s own existence, and with intention inspects the aperture within the aperture (the deeper crucial opening spoken of in internal refinement), and stops there. Alchemical texts call this “gathering the medicine and placing it in the furnace,” also “practicing the work of the living zi”; the efficacy they describe is roughly of this kind.

It is only that the language of alchemical texts is often reserved: they set forth many metaphors yet do not explain directly, seemingly because the ancients did not transmit the teaching fully in the open. In fact, the verification of the living wu is already contained in the account of the living zi. The ancient worthies probably hoped that students would cultivate according to the method, yet did not lay every crucial point completely bare; this, however, also easily leads to misunderstanding and delays practice. Taixu therefore explains this passage again and again, indicating how one ought to discern during cultivation. The work of gathering the medicine, taking the medicine, refining the medicine, condensing Qi, and the like is all included within these explanations.

According to the Dan Shu (Elixir Texts), when the external kidney (the male genitals) rises of itself in the absence of distracting thoughts, this is indeed the arrival of the “living zi hour”—a Neidan (internal alchemy) term for the moment when Yang Qi (vital energy) stirs. The text nonetheless still requires one to go on applying the method of guiding and lifting: the Qi is drawn up into the brain, visualization is maintained there, and it is then led down to the Zhonghuang (the central region in the Neidan of the human body) before gathering and refining may begin. After that, the formula of no-thought must also be joined to the work, and the method of sealing the furnace is set forth. Set beside the practice transmitted by the various teachers, this procedure is sketchy and does not agree with theirs. To take these statements for a complete method of the living zi would be a mistake.

The work that the Dan Shu places after the living zi is something students often never truly realize. They cling instead to one understanding of their own, and so the more they practice, the more bewildered they become, until at last they can only look on from afar and sigh. These teachings were originally spoken by the ancient sages out of their own experience in cultivation. At the outset they did not foresee that later students would find them so hard to understand, or would even force strained and far-fetched readings upon the meaning. It is out of compassion for students that Taixu offers the present explanation. What is called the “living wu” is in fact the very work that the ancient sages described as following the living zi; it is not some other system newly invented. The ancients began their cultivation from the living zi hour. Taixu’s exposition, by contrast, lays the emphasis on the living wu and establishes the “Formula of the Middle Twelve Hours,” saying that when cultivation reaches the point at which a golden world appears before the eyes, this is the highest state of the living wu, and gathering and refining should be carried out then.

The method of gathering and refining employs the practice of the three contemplations in the Qingjing Jing (Scripture of Clarity and Stillness). At the highest level one enters the realm of “non-nonbeing,” yet without clinging to emptiness and stillness; and when at last one gathers inward and stores away, one still reposes within “nonbeing.” Cultivating in this way again and again, one continues until Qi, when gathered, takes on form, and when dispersed, remains Qi. Some of the concrete methods can be explained, but they depend on one’s own realization and on a careful keeping of them. It is like seeking a thousand-li horse by means of a picture: in actual use, one must know how to forget both the picture and the tools.

Once the student has seen the golden world, the supreme numinous Qi behind the body must at once be set in motion, so that it pierces through to a place utterly high and remote, where no light reaches, and then descends from there, enveloping the whole numinous realm and gathering it in until it condenses to the size of a grain of millet. One may imagine it drawn in through a precious vase, or receive it into the abdomen by intention. One may also, by the power of that enveloping, sweep it in from an extreme distance in front of the body, down to the utmost depth, then through to the utmost height, and look down upon the numinous realm: it is as though one’s form-body (the physical body) were sitting or standing amid flames. At this moment the formula of “forgetting heat” must be applied at once, and one feels the flesh body melt away, leaving only light. Swiftly gathering it in by intention, one then sees instead a pearl the size of a bean suspended in the Great Void (Taixu); by intention one draws it back and settles it within the mysterious aperture of empty stillness, maintaining a state of limpid quiet.

Another method is this. When the numinous realm appears, one gently takes hold of it with true intention and draws it toward the back of the body, silently applying the formula of lifting and raising. One lifts upward from behind while directing both eyes up toward the Niwan (the Neidan site within the head), and feels the true Qi in the Niwan gathering in a dense, misty fullness. Guiding the Qi downward by intention, one feels it brimming within the realm, as though a pool were filled to overflowing. This is arrival at the Huachi (the imaginal site in Neidan that receives saliva and the fluids of Qi). Jade liquid and golden liquid then well forth in abundance; once swallowed, they pass from the Chonglou (the throat) to the Jianggong (the region of the heart and chest), and one naturally feels an incomparable cool clarity. Led further down to the Zhonghuang, they bring yet another kind of sensation, and the whole body becomes full and harmonious.

At this point one feels two streams of Qi circling to left and right, and also one stream rising and one descending. Once above and below stand opposite each other, what is above draws near while what is below comes to meet it; then one pursues while the other withdraws, and the two entwine, unwilling to part. One must at all costs refrain from craving and attachment, and must not arouse ordinary feelings and thoughts. At the slightest thought of desire, these two streams of Qi fall into conflict, and desire runs loose with them; the three families (the elements joined in Neidan, such as Jing (essence), Qi, and Shen (spirit)) are then wholly turned into a post-heaven condition. The body may tremble, the breathing grow coarse, and the external kidney grow hot, and one falls into a difficulty from which it is hard to recover.

The only remedy then is to look upward with both eyes and draw down true Yin so as to press down the fire of desire. By this time, however, the supreme treasure has already become something post-heaven. One can only vigorously marshal the Qi of the True Person and fiercely cook, refine, and forge it, so that it once more passes through the Weilu (the pass at the lower end of the spine), reaches the Niwan, descends through the Chonglou, and arrives at the Jiangque (the Neidan site below the heart), recovering a state of fresh clarity. Otherwise this supreme treasure cannot be restored to what it was. The ancient sages did not dare lightly to disclose this passage, precisely because most students no longer have a body of pristine innocence: the aperture of desire has long since opened, and when practice reaches this point, how can feelings and thoughts fail to stir? The path is, moreover, a familiar old one, and to keep it from seizing the pass and leaking outward is exceedingly difficult. Only for a person of pristine innocence, in whom the treasure within the body has not yet been stirred and who does not even know of this matter, does practice to this point amount merely to feeling Yang Qi greatly abundant and the impulse of Shen penetrating upward. It naturally does not develop downward, and so this change does not occur.

The ancient sages, pure in their cultivation of nature, on reaching this point at once drew down true Yin to press down the turbid fire. Relying on the cool, clear Qi of the Jiangque, they caused the Qi, once transformed, to condense downward and be stored in the Qi cavity, then sealed and secured it with intention; a short while of quiet was enough.

Broadly speaking, one who begins from the living wu should take the Qiangong (the Qian position in Neidan, symbolizing where Yang Qi resides) as the key, regulating and refining the mechanism of Qi so that it pours down into the Huachi and irrigates the Jiangque. When the living zi hour arrives, one must discern it through the cognition of Shen; when the zi hour and the wu hour meet, mind and nature must be kept still. Only when the practice at last reaches a state of fresh clarity does it count as properly measured.

One who begins from the living zi hour should take the Kun abdomen (the Kun position in Neidan, referring to the abdomen) as the key, refining and transforming the fluid Qi so that it rises to the Niwan, pours down to irrigate the Huachi, and coolly moistens the Jiangque. When the living wu hour arrives, one must carefully guard against any leakage through desire; when the wu hour and the zi hour meet, mind and nature must likewise be kept still. Only when the practice at last reaches fullness and harmony does it count as properly measured.

When the eyes are closed in inward contemplation, all manner of numinous realms may naturally appear. The essential point is not to cling. As the practice deepens step by step, the scenes change continually and cannot be told in full; the one principle is not to linger in any scene or image. When Qi reaches the Kun position, the feeling of warmth is the criterion; when Qi then penetrates upward to the crown of the head and the Jiangque, the feeling of cool clarity is the criterion. Such is the general sense. Only one who brings inward contemplation to single-minded concentration and returns to the not-two can, through Shen, experience this method of the celestial immortal and, through Shen, awaken to it. (Here “two” refers to the two eyes, and “one” to the celestial eye.)

Elder Taixu (Taixu Weng) said: In our cultivation we must of course give weight to keeping in accord with the timing of Heaven. I explained “living noon” (huo wu—the inner moment when the Yang Qi (vital energy) within the body has advanced to the corresponding stage) in detail earlier, precisely because if one does not understand living noon, one will let true Yin (zhenyin) pass by in vain. Even if one knows how to apply effort according to “living zi” (huo zi—the inner moment when Yang Qi first arises), without the nourishing support of true Yin, a practice sufficient even to transform Shen (spirit) will still make a stable ascent difficult.

The signs and states often mentioned in the elixir books, such as “cool clarity” and “gold and jade,” are placed after the work of living zi, which is why the two words “true Yin” are specially marked out. This is to say that one refines Yang and thereby obtains Yin; concealed within it is also the secret of refining Yin and thereby obtaining Yang. It is not that people are deliberately kept from cultivating. They have already been set to do the work, yet it has not been stated outright.

As for the “formula of the twelve hours” (shi’er shi jue—the method of explaining the timing of cultivation according to the twelve double-hours), the ancient worthies always kept it secret and did not transmit it. I now speak of it directly because the true methods of the Dao (the Way) have long been obscured. Students often cultivate only by the outward steps, without understanding the order of the stages or their confirming signs. In practice they have no sure grasp, like a blind person without a staff, and they easily grow confused and draw back. I also know that your affinity is deep and that you can set aside fixed views. If I do not transmit this formula to you, this assembly will have been missed in vain, and the true methods of the Dao may be lost.

If a person of profound capacity meets you, hears the formula of the twelve hours, goes on to inquire into living year (huo sui), living month (huo yue), living day (huo ri), and living hour (huo shi), and practices them through once in sequence with earnest diligence, then even if the work is afterward interrupted by affairs, when effort is applied again one will know where to begin and what signs will appear upon beginning, and cultivation will give rise to no doubt. The living year, living month, living day, and living hour once heard will also remain clearly in mind. Is this not a joy?

Yet the living moment can neither be seized by deliberate action, nor does it fail, time and again, to be missed through mere letting-be. Only when one truly comprehends the two phrases “within use, employ non-use; within the work of Wuwei (non-action), apply effort” will one avoid going astray, and only then will what is gained be genuine. Why not take the elixir scriptures (danjing) as confirmation? The elixir scriptures say: “When the external kidneys rise without a thought, this is Yang Qi arising and issuing forth.” They also say: “This is living zi.” From this one can understand that when the external kidneys rise of themselves in the absence of stray thoughts, it is precisely the moment when “living high noon” (huo zhengwu) arrives in the body. If one begins to gather and refine only when this time has come, what is obtained is already no longer true Yang (zhenyang). To wish merely to borrow this for nourishing life is still possible; to rely on it to attain the Dao is very difficult.

Students go wrong because they do not understand the state of the inner dynamic of Qi when it has just been stirred and first appears, nor when it is stirred again and appears once more afterward. They do not nurture Yang Qi in time when it has just returned, and only at the so-called noon do they gather and refine, and so they spoil the work. Traced to its root, the fault is that they do not understand the oral formulas in which the ancient worthies left words and phrases unsaid, yet they cling to talk of a fixed “hour of zi” (zishi), and therefore err without knowing it. Even if they continue to apply effort according to what the books say, they have already gone wrong at the crucial point.

Some people are timid and, bound by their own views, simply gather nothing at all, supposing that Yang Qi whose moment has passed can no longer be gathered. They do not know that at this time it is still like the moon about to become full, just awaiting completion. To leave it ungathered is to add error upon error. Living noon is spoken of again and again because it is a critical juncture in cultivating the Dao. If one does not understand what takes place there, ten times cultivating may mean ten times going wrong.

When I look at the refined practice of those who came before, they were often able to gain something at living zi; yet if their mistakes are counted carefully, most occurred at living noon. Why is this? Because the work of nature (xing) was not yet sufficient, and mind and nature were easily drawn along by emotion. (Note: Mistakes do not occur only when extraordinary scenes appear. A sudden welling up of stray thoughts is also often a sign that living noon has arrived in the body. If on this account one gives up quiet sitting, or sits yet does not collect and hold, or collects and holds yet cannot settle, in every case one has failed to keep the moment.)

At noon, every pathway opens, and all manner of strange and ingenious visions appear one after another; whatever is fated to appear will not remain hidden. As a rule, the deeper one’s cultivation of life (minggong), the more exquisite the visions that manifest. Practitioners of old who truly knew themselves would, when their practice reached noon, let the curtain hang halfway—seeing as if not seeing—and rely only on the intent of Shen (spirit) to observe the shifts in the movement of Qi (vital energy), so that the breath returned to clarity and harmony. Once the breath had settled and been stored away, the practice came to an end.

The exquisite visions that appear are not limited to sounds, forms, and colors. Above are celestial palaces, jade towers, and pavilions of rosy clouds; in the middle are jade maidens, golden lads, and immortal flowers and numinous herbs, too many to count. Even a vision of a lower order may be a famous mountain or a celebrated site, or musicians offering music and presenting the fare of the immortals. The lowest of the numinous realms still has something that transcends the ordinary world: beautiful figures and finely wrought furnishings, enough to hold a person spellbound.

Once the mind and Shen are seized by these visions, one comes to a standstill, finds it hard to transcend, and delays the verification of one’s cultivation. If one clings to the Tusita Heaven—one of the celestial realms spoken of in Daoism—the consciousness of Shen will then linger in the Niwan, the cultivation site in the head, and be unable to shed the embryo. Worse still, one may deliver oneself over to demonic beings to take up residence there, and have one’s consciousness of Shen devoured by them. All these consequences arise from failing to grasp the essentials of the “living noon practice” (huowugong). The “living noon practice” is the method of cultivation carried out according to the changes in the movement of Qi at noon.

Taixu further said: Once cultivation has reached a certain stage, even if the illusory and inconstant visions have not yet been fully set right, so long as one urges on and brings the breath and the will under unified control, and then presses on to gather Shen (spirit) and enter stillness, in a brief moment the movement of Qi (vital energy) can be turned back, as though the sun had risen once more to high noon. At that time it is as if a golden world appeared before the eyes, its radiance illuminating the mind and spirit. This is the accomplishment that Li Shaojun called “the sun declining and returning to the center” (rize zaizhong)—that is, the visionary scene of cultivation in which the sun, after slanting westward, rises again to the exact midpoint. By then the medicine is already abundant; one gathers it in with intention and transforms it into true Qi (zhenqi, the original vital energy spoken of in cultivation); concentrating it once more with intention, one draws it into the ancestral aperture (zuqiao, the cavity in the head used for visualization and the gathering of spirit). This is called “obtaining the medicine.” Among the patriarchs of successive generations of the Southern School (Nanzong), all who brought the great work to completion cultivated this accomplishment of “the sun declining and returning to the center.”

The Prince of Huainan, Wei Boyang, and the two Perfected Ones, Ge and Xu, also practiced additional formulas such as “enclosing and lifting” (baoti), and in the end reached the state in which the entire household ascended in flight. My teacher, the Elder of the Mud-Pellet (Niwan Weng), once cultivated this method, yet he warned me not to put it into actual use. I myself tried it and experienced the sign of the six heavens trembling. My teacher stopped me and said: “Do not continue this practice. You should treasure it and keep it secret, and transmit it to someone only when the proper time comes.”

If in the course of cultivation there appear all manner of scenes of decay—collapsing walls, ruined houses, and the like—these are signs that the practitioner’s Yang Qi is weak and Yin Qi has been injured. One should constantly think of supporting true nature, and see that word and deed everywhere accord with proper measure; at the same time one should preserve the Gate of Life (mingmen, the region below the navel and about the waist, regarded as the root of life), and keep the mind empty so that the abdomen becomes full. One must be sure to cast off worry and evil thoughts. This is also the oral instruction by which the cultivators of old began from “living noon” (huowu). “Living noon” refers to the state in cultivation in which the movement of Qi stirs anew, as if returning to high noon.

The Elder of the Mud-Pellet further said: In our cultivation we ought to take the sages, immortals, and Buddhas of antiquity as our model. We must cultivate mind and nature (xinxing) when active, and cultivate nature and life (xingming) when at rest. Do not be like certain practitioners in the world who attend only to keeping the mind empty and making the abdomen full.

The elder went on: “In our cultivation we must model ourselves on the ancient sages and worthies, the immortals, and the Buddhas. They cultivated mind and nature amid activity, and cultivated the root of life in stillness. Do not be like some scholars of the world, who apply themselves only when sitting cross-legged in quiet meditation. Practiced that way, ten people out of ten will find it hard to succeed. The cultivators of old were not like this; tempered in every manner of trial, they were all able in the end to achieve something.

“I hope that students of the practice will begin by regarding their own person as equally vast as empty space: taking the void of heaven and earth as the dharma-body (the vast fundamental body visualized by the cultivator), treating this formed body as the spirit chamber of the Celestial Heart (the dwelling that bears the Celestial Heart), and taking the heart of the fleshly body as the place that governs the Celestial Heart. Harbor in the mind no thoughts of liking or disliking, of choosing or rejecting, of pursuing or avoiding; be bound by nothing, and do not let stray thoughts wander. Maintain only a state that is open, vast, and silent—neither dull nor scattered—that is, immense and unrestrained, without bias or partiality. Only with an upright posture, an empty and still mind within, and sincere intention does one not fail this rare opportunity.

“When cultivation reaches the living zi (huozi)—the moment in Neidan (internal alchemy) when Yang Qi (vital energy) is aroused—one must continue to nurture and preserve it; when it reaches the living wu (huowu)—the moment corresponding to the movement of Yang Qi—one then gathers and stores it, mastering the essential point. Alas! If one does not seize this present life to liberate this body, for which other lifetime is one to wait?”

Ancient cultivators said: “When the front pass is closed and mind and Qi are subdued, the work can be accomplished only from summer to autumn.” They also said: “When the rear pass is unobstructed, the work is already half done; contracting the Gen position and opening the Qian position is the proper work.” Here “pass” refers to the critical apertures through which the movement of Qi proceeds in cultivation, while “Gen” and “Qian” are directional and symbolic terms from the study of the Changes.

One should know that if Qi cannot ascend along the back, it is always because muddy Jing (essence)—a technical term of cultivation, referring to essence and Qi that have congealed and stagnated—blocks the channels and apertures. The method is to focus Shen (spirit) and intention upon the Kun abdomen (the lower abdomen), so that Qi returns to the Gate of Life (the root of life at the waist behind the navel). When the inner fire is vigorous, Qi grows warm; meeting this warmth, muddy Jing melts like water, the channels and apertures are no longer blocked, and Qi moving on its reverse course can of itself pass through along the back. Qi originally travels along the channels; when the channels are blocked, Qi stagnates.

It should be understood that what blocks the meridians is the very jing (essence) that was once propelled along by qi (vital energy). Qi cannot rise because jing has stagnated within the body; jing stagnates because qi is not warm enough; qi is not warm enough because the Mingmen (the Gate of Life, what Chinese medicine calls the root of life and the fire between the kidneys) has grown weak; and when the fire of the Mingmen declines, shen (spirit) loses its governing power. Jing relies on qi to move it, while qi relies on shen to be warmed and nourished. When shen is vigorous, qi is warm; when shen is weak, qi turns cold. When qi is cold, jing congeals and cannot dissolve, gradually turning into phlegm that blocks the meridians and leaves the orifices throughout the body impassable. If this continues, it becomes difficult not only to cultivate the Dao (the Way), but even to preserve one's life. The only remedy is to make the Kun abdomen (the lower abdomen) extremely warm, and so reverse the decline.

Once jing congeals into phlegm, blocking the meridians and closing the orifices, the consequence is that the Dao can hardly be cultivated and life can hardly be long preserved. The only remedy is to make the Kun abdomen extremely warm.

Jing, when propelled by vigorous qi, is like clouds riding a dry wind: rising, it becomes rosy radiance; descending, it becomes dew. When propelled by weak qi, it is like mist riding a damp wind, condensing into heavy, sluggish clouds that fall more like rain. Moreover, if yin jing flows downward and lodges in the bladder, then the chance stirring of the ministerial fire (a kind of warm qi within the body) may cause it to leak out suddenly, which is a serious harm caused by downward stagnation. If qi instead drives it to spread through the various meridians, and wind and fire then assail it, it turns into carbuncles and abscesses (suppurative sores and swellings) or causes paralysis. In more severe cases, after long accumulation it transforms into fire, producing "bone steaming" (a condition in which heat is felt deep within the bones). What the world calls consumptive disease (a grave wasting illness marked by chronic cough and emaciation) is all brought about by this very thing. The sages of old were deeply troubled by this, and so they used the teaching of "nurturing the fire" to explain the method of cultivation and care.

What is called “cultivating fire” means concentrating the mind’s intention on the Kun abdomen (the lower abdomen), so that Qi (vital energy) returns to the Mingmen (the root of life in traditional medicine and Daoism). The fire of the Mingmen cannot be seen, yet its action can be felt in the body; it is the root of Shen-fire (the inner fire of life). When the Mingmen fire is vigorous, the refined substances produced from food and drink can be transformed into Qi. If intention is then focused again on the Kun abdomen, and the body tends toward dryness, True Earth (the transformative foundation of the spleen, stomach, and the like) can be consolidated; if the body tends toward moisture, the whole body can be nourished and the movement of Qi harmonized, so that Lei Yang (latent Yang Qi) may be nurtured. From this it is clear that the role of true fire is of great importance.

In our everyday digestion of food and drink, we often do not understand the method of cultivating fire. The meridians of the whole body may be relatively little burdened, yet what accumulates in the bladder is especially abundant. If Yin cannot be transformed into Yang, the disorders mentioned earlier will inevitably result. How, then, can one fail to attend carefully to regulating this?

If Qi (vital energy) cannot rise from the rear, along the side of the Du meridian, calamity is not far off. If Qi cannot ascend from behind, it surges upward from the front; and if it runs straight through from the front, the harm it brings is still more severe. In a mild case liver-Qi flares; in a severe case foot-Qi rushes upward.

This illness is certain to break out in spring. An outbreak in spring is still the lighter form; if it comes in summer, it is far more violent. The reason is that seminal fluid congeals into phlegm and first blocks the Middle Palace (the middle of the body), preventing Qi from moving downward. Sometimes it descends together with Qi, but if the fire of the Mingmen (the Gate of Life at the waist) is weak, what has gone down congeals and clogs the lower region. Once the Weilü point (the point at the lower end of the spine) is obstructed, the Jiaji, the crown of the head, the occiput, and other places all become blocked in turn. In this way the Ren meridian and the Du meridian (the two important channels running along the front and back of the body) are both sealed shut, and the consequences are hard to foresee.

To do all one can to remedy this, one must also employ the Lesuo Gen practice (a method of cultivation that draws inward and secures), gather the “ministers and subjects” (here meaning the Qi and blood of the various parts of the body), support and nourish them, make the true fire of the Mingmen flourish, and then use it to warm the middle and lower regions. Yin Jing (essence) will then melt away day by day, and true Qi (primordial vital energy) will also grow stronger; by this means one breaks through the passes and clears the channels. If this is continued without interruption through one period of seven, two periods of seven, and on to seven times seven (taking seven days as one cycle, and continuing through seven cycles), then what has stagnated in front and behind will dissolve, and the Ren and Du meridians will flow freely—and the result will be more than merely the curing of the illness.

If one seeks only to open the passages and does not add support and nourishment, the stasis accumulated in the past remains in the channels, collaterals, and orifices, and one feels only a temporary, slight ease. The reason is that one has sought nothing but momentary comfort; in truth, because Yang Qi (the Yang of Yin-Yang) is weak and one’s strength is insufficient, it is hard to rouse oneself. That ingrained habit should be so difficult to reverse, and that matters should come to this, is truly cause for lament. Those of us who aspire to cultivation ought earnestly to take this as a warning.

Once the movement of Qi (vital energy) is already free, yin Jing (essence) has been transformed, and long-standing illness has been cleared away, one may begin the three practices. The method is as follows. From the zi hour to the si hour, first raise the buttocks and bend the body forward, straighten the neck, and draw in the chin, breathing twenty-four times; then lead the Qi up to the Qian position (the upper region) and keep the mind on the Niwan (the site of Neidan, internal alchemy, in the head), breathing six times; then straighten the body, sink the abdomen, and sit, breathing six times. This comes to thirty-six breaths in all, carried through in this way over the six hours (an ancient unit of time).

From the wu hour to the hai hour, first stroke the abdomen, straighten the lower back, lift the neck, and relax the mind, breathing sixteen times; then keep the mind on the Kun abdomen (the lower abdomen), breathing four times; then, as before, sit upright with the body aligned, letting each breath return to the navel, and breathe four times more. This comes to twenty-four breaths in all, carried through over the six hours. In the text, this practice from the wu hour to the hai hour is recorded a second time.

Ancient practitioners said: “From the zi hour to the si hour, one should advance the yang fire. When yang Qi is abundant it rises, and once yang Qi has risen the movement of Qi becomes lively. From the wu hour to the hai hour, one should withdraw the yin response. When yin Qi dissolves it descends, and after it has descended even sluggish Qi can be quickened.”

They also said: “The head is the Qian cauldron (the site that symbolizes the rising and refining of yang Qi), the heart is the chamber of Shen (spirit), where spirit is kept and nourished, and the abdomen is the Kun furnace (the site that symbolizes the refining and transformation of yin Qi). The heart is where Qi is stored; the abdomen is where nature and life meet, and it is also where the medicine arises. The heart should be empty and still, and the abdomen full. If the heart is not empty and still, stray thoughts disturb the breath; what has accumulated cannot be dissolved and sent downward, and phlegm and retained fluid result. If the abdomen is not full, Qi becomes weak and congested; the fluids and Jing and Qi cannot be smelted and transformed, and essence and Qi leak away. Practitioners should remember these words.”

Why must the body be held upright and straight? One must understand the circulation of the Ren meridian and the Du meridian, the two channels running along the front and back of the body. If the body is not upright, the movement of Qi (vital energy) becomes obstructed; only when the body is upright does Qi flow freely, and the channels throughout the body become open as well. This is a matter of great importance.

When one first practices this method, Qi does not easily descend. One often feels Qi surging upward, or distension, dull oppression, stagnation, and soreness in the front and back of the body. This is because obstructions still remain in the channels and have not yet dispersed; during practice, Qi is forcing its way through them. The discomfort felt at this time is precisely a sign that the channels are about to open. One should add methods such as “lifting the buttocks” to help the Du meridian circulate, and use “emptying the heart and filling the abdomen”—relaxing the mind and Shen (spirit), and making the abdomen full and settled—to help the Ren meridian circulate. Once the Ren and Du meridians are clear, the earlier discomfort naturally subsides.

After the Ren and Du meridians are unobstructed, besides circulating the breath at noon and at midnight according to the method and gathering the medicine—the specific stage of cultivation in which Jing (essence) and Qi are collected and refined—one must, after the medicine has been obtained, also practice methods such as lifting the buttocks and emptying the heart and filling the abdomen, and add the practice of a level, upright posture, using these for cultivation and nourishment. In three years one may attain some achievement.

Why must the inner mind be empty and clear? If the mind is not empty and clear, Qi and Shen scatter along with wandering thoughts. Cultivation then loses its guiding principle and has nowhere to begin, and its efficacy is hard to realize. When the mind is empty and clear, Qi can gather in one place; even where there is an obstruction, Qi, on reaching it, can disperse it. The method then takes effect more readily, and subtle workings are contained within it.

If one practices specifically the method of clearing the Ren meridian, afterward one must perform the formula of “sinking the abdomen and clarifying the spirit”—making the abdomen steady and letting Shen become clear and settled. Without this step, one easily falls into the condition of Kan yang sinking into yin, a state of cultivation in which Yang Qi sinks downward and Yin Qi grows excessive, and slips into dull stupor. Only when this formula has been fully practiced can the breath grow quiet and the spirit grow clear. At this point one must also have the skill of “the single spiritual light standing alone revealed”—keeping lucid awareness awake and unobscured by stray thoughts. Without this step, the Qi that rises will be mixed with turbid Qi, often making the head feel swollen and the eyes red; restless thoughts will further stir thunder yang, a term in internal refinement for the arousal of Yang Qi, and bring the danger of thunder shaking and the spirit flying away. With this formula, these faults can be avoided. Even if one only feels distension, oppression, or dizziness, a little practice of formulas such as emptiness and looseness, and open permeability, will make the discomfort disappear. The subtle efficacy of this formula is truly beyond full description.

Taixu further said: As a rule, after one has eaten one’s fill, the abdomen must on no account be put under pressure, nor should one at once walk quickly or hurry into activity. There is only one essential: let the mind and Shen (spirit) relax, and let the movement of Qi (vital energy) grow gentle. After the food has digested a little, one should still keep the mind and Shen quietly settled between the heart and the abdomen, and should not practice any method that uses force; one need only walk slowly and lightly stroke the abdomen. Only after the food in the abdomen has been digested and has passed downward may one practice methods of greater force.

The ancients said, “After a meal one should practice the civil method.” They also said, “After a meal, relax the mind and Shen; when the mind and Shen are quiet, food is easily digested.” People live by food and drink, yet many illnesses begin when food and drink stagnate in the Middle Burner—the middle of the body, where the spleen and stomach lie—and then turn into phlegm-rheum; conditions such as regurgitation may also appear. If, immediately after eating, one forcefully moves Qi, the grain food will rush downward with the Qi and stagnate in the lower region, which may bring on anal abscess, hemorrhoids, and anal fistula. If turbid Qi blocks the channels and collaterals, it may also lead to paralysis and similar illnesses. What stagnates and clings to the joints, transforming into heat over time, may further give rise to consumption, bone-steaming, and kindred disorders. Thus the “civil method” spoken of by the ancients is simply to let Shen rest and guard the Middle Burner, and to place the intention at Mingmen—the “gate of life” of traditional medicine, where the inner functions of the waist are held to reside. If one deliberately exerts force downward, the practice becomes a “martial method,” which may instead cause illness, and so is to be avoided.

What is the essential of “emptying the heart”? It is to relax the movement of Qi. Slow walking helps the spleen and stomach transform and transport food; stroking the abdomen means using the hands to support and protect the Middle Burner while placing the intention at Mingmen. This is done in order to gather the grain Qi back in and guide it, by means of the fire within the body, to transform into Qi—the subtle energy of which Daoism speaks. After the food has been digested, one should add the practice of “contracting Gen.” “Contracting Gen” means drawing inward just as one does when holding back urination or defecation, so as to keep the grain Qi from stagnating and scattering outward, and also to keep it from lodging and sinking downward.

The clear, light portion of the grain food rises with Qi, is transformed into blood, and spreads through all the vessels; the turbid, heavy portion descends with Qi and moistens the intestines and stomach. If Shen and intention cannot warmly nourish it and transmute it by gentle heat, it will turn into yin fluid and harm the whole body. For this reason the ancients paid it particular attention.

When Shen and intention are settled in guarding the Middle Burner, if the chest and abdomen feel distended and full, use the intention to guide the breath from the chest downward along the right, circle the navel and turn it upward to the left, then circle around to the right and descend again. This is called “withdrawing the Yin tally.” Because the grain Qi is too abundant, one must use the method of moving in retreat. As soon as there is a slight sense of easing, stop the circulation and merely keep the mind and Shen relaxed. In this way one gradually feels a loosening, a settling, and a comfortable ease; then a dense, generative mist seems to arise within the heart—the sign that the grain Qi has begun to steam and transform. If afterward this atmosphere is felt throughout the body, it is the sign that the grain Qi, borrowing the Qi of the Middle Burner, is moving through the whole body. Later still, the chest and abdomen feel clear and fresh, and only the abdomen remains full. By then the food has already descended, and one may practice the methods of circulating to the left, through the center, and to the right.

In practicing according to this method, one should circulate in keeping with the movement of the breath at the nose: if the breath tends to the left, circulate to the left; if it rests in the center, circulate in the center; if it tends to the right, circulate to the right. The principle is subtle, and the method belongs to the civil practice. The ancients did not set the method out in full; they said only that one should apply it according to the formula.

The ancient method follows the movement of the breath through the nose and distinguishes between breath leaving the left nostril and breath leaving the right. But the nose has only two nostrils, so how could any breath emerge from the middle? What is called "central qi" (中气, zhongqi) refers to breath leaving both nostrils at the same time. A person's nasal breathing corresponds to the hours of the day, as has long been observed and verified, and the ancient method is not baseless. By the double-hours (shichen), the breath leaves the left nostril at the Zi hour, the right at the Chou hour, the left at the Yin hour, and the right at the Mao hour, alternating in this way with the hours and matching them. At the boundary between two double-hours, the breath leaves both nostrils at once. The number of breaths is slightly higher only at the Zi and Wu hours, and is roughly the same in the others.

The method of circulating qi is as follows. When the breath leaves the left nostril, imagine it traveling downward along the left side of the chest, circling the abdomen to the right, then turning to a point about two inches above the navel and being pushed inward until it presses close against the Mingmen (命门, the Gate of Life, an important point in the lower back between the kidneys). This is called "driving forth the Yang fire" (迸阳火). Those whose Yang qi is deficient usually stop after thirty-six rounds.

When the breath leaves the right nostril, imagine it traveling downward along the right side of the chest, circling the abdomen to the left, then turning to a point about two inches above the navel and being pushed inward all the way to the lower Dantian (下丹田, the cultivation site in the abdomen), without pressing against the Mingmen. This is called "withdrawing the Yin tally" (退阴符). Those whose Yin qi is deficient usually stop after twenty-four rounds.

When the breath leaves both nostrils at once, which is called "central qi," it passes from the Jiangque (绛阙, a site near the pit of the heart) straight to the Zhonghuang (中黄, the Yellow Center, a cultivation site at the body's center). It circles the navel thirty-six times to the left and twenty-four times to the right, and is then pushed inward from the point about two inches above the navel, directly into the Xuanqiao (玄窍, the Mysterious Aperture, the profound gateway spoken of in cultivation). At this time, one neither thinks nor deliberates, but remains in stillness for a quarter of an hour and then stops. This is called "sealing the furnace" (封炉).

If this practice can be kept up through all twelve double-hours without interruption, it becomes an exceedingly profound secret method.

Before long, the practitioner seems to enter a realm formed by the qi (气) of Zhun and Meng (the hexagrams of Sprouting and Youthful Ignorance). This is the confirming sign of "spirit roaming in the Water Palace," that is, wandering through the water realm within the inner landscape. At this point the practitioner should immediately apply the technique of emptying and clearing, concentrating the shen (神, spirit) still more fully on the Kun abdomen (the lower region of the body, the area of the Dantian, 丹田), while gathering in the qi of the Gen position. Fire will then be felt to rise in the lower field (the lower Dantian). Once the mechanisms of qi in the upper and middle regions have responded, one must take care not to draw the qi upward ahead of its time. In the work, let the qi move downward first, and only afterward assist it in pressing upward. As soon as the passes and apertures are broken open, the qi will surge upward, climbing over the spine and passing through the occipital bone. After it has rested and gathered there for a moment, it will descend of its own accord to the Flower Pool (the place in the mouth where saliva gathers).

Now one should gather the mind in still further and quiet all stray thoughts. Sweet dew will be felt descending in abundance, and when the mouth is filled with saliva, it should be swallowed in several portions. At this moment the true qi in the Crimson Palace (the heart palace, the cardiac region) feels gathered and unscattered. Next, one should forget the technique being used and enter the state of "having a body yet forgetting the body." Suddenly one senses a drop of liquid falling from emptiness, landing directly in the heart, and there is only a sense of cool clarity. Then it drips into the Central Yellow (the central region of the body in the inner landscape), and one feels an utter warmth and moistness, as though the whole body were greeted by the spring. This indicates that grain qi (the essence generated from food and drink) has been transformed into the precious treasure of the Neidan (内丹, internal alchemy).

At this stage one need only forget the technique, wait in stillness, and enter a state of unawareness. This is called "gathering the treasure back into the furnace," and the alchemical texts call it "the treasure returning to chaos." If the practitioner has not yet reached the stage of bigu (辟谷, abstaining from grain, no longer relying on ordinary food), how could the work of this stage be treated lightly? For the benefit of cultivation comes from here, and calamity may also arise from here.

Why must a practitioner entering the Way begin with the essential key of "making oneself identical to emptiness"? Because emptiness is the original substance of Heaven and Earth, and it is also the ultimate home of the human being. If one takes this true image as the starting point of cultivation, then every method practiced afterward will accord with the Dao (the Way) at every step.

Examining the methods of cultivation carefully, one finds that all of them take Heaven and Earth as the model for body and mind. In the end, cultivation means allowing one's Qi (vital energy) dynamic to expand and flow freely. When the Qi dynamic is open and unconstrained, nothing within the body becomes blocked. Only then can the body be likened to lead, the mind to mercury, stillness to water, and wisdom to fire, and cultivation will meet with no difficulty.

Moreover, the hollow places in the body correspond to Heaven, and the solid places correspond to Earth. The five organs (heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys) correspond to a person's spirit, the hun and po souls, and intention. Viewed within the framework of Heaven and Earth, they correspond to the Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth). From the perspective of the Dao, they correspond to benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. To cultivate these functions of body and mind is nothing other than correcting imbalances and making up for deficiencies, and in the end it cannot be separated from "stillness" (ding) and "wisdom" (hui).

Some say that stillness is the substance of the Dao and wisdom is its function. This claim seems reasonable, but it is not accurate. Stillness is defined in relation to what is unstill, and wisdom likewise in relation to the absence of wisdom. In their deeper meaning, both stillness and wisdom belong to the function of the Dao.

The Dao (the Way), as the Dao, is by nature spontaneous, pure, and unified, yet it contains all things. It runs through past and present, before and after, and yet seems utterly still and empty. If one says it resembles the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate, the original state before the myriad things differentiate), that is roughly how it may be understood.

When things arrive, to respond to them naturally as they come is what is meant by "wisdom" (hui). When things depart, not to chase after them is what is meant by "stillness" (ding). Yet only the sage can do this perfectly. We who cultivate must strive toward a similar state: at first it is difficult, then we gradually become able, and in the end it grows natural through familiarity, and that is all there is to it.

The method of cultivation comes down to restraining selfish desires and setting oneself right. In practice, this means keeping the mind clear and pure when nothing is happening, and keeping it clear and pure when affairs arise. This is what it means to cultivate one's nature and mind both in daily life and in the midst of events.

My teacher, Taixu Weng, said: "If one takes emptiness as the Dharma body (the fundamental body realized by the practitioner) but does not take the physical body as the spirit chamber of the Heavenly Mind (the place where the Heavenly Mind dwells and manifests), one will fall into a barren void, with no master within the heart, and this becomes a heterodox path. The worthies of old therefore supplemented the teaching with this formula. Fearing that practitioners might fall into the heterodox path of having no feeling and no mind, they went further and pointed out that the heart of the fleshly body is the very heart of the Heavenly Mind." This shows that the Heavenly Mind (the inner, clear original mind) is always luminous, perfectly pure and perfectly aware, and so it responds to external things without bias or deviation, and does so spontaneously.

When the qi (the movement of qi within the body) is naturally abundant, one cultivates the lead and mercury, water and fire within body and mind (Neidan terms, or internal alchemy terms, used as metaphors for harmonizing body, mind, essence, and qi), concentrating on this single thought without mixing in any other. This is what is called "no thought within thought." But if one removes even this single thought, it is like boiling water and fire in an empty pot: nothing can be refined, and this is the heterodox path of having no feeling and no mind. Those who aspire to the state of the Celestial Immortal should investigate these principles together.

Carefully examining the teachings of the ancient sages, we find that cultivation should begin with "non-delusion" (wuwang), that is, not allowing deluded thoughts to arise. In actual practice, we may provisionally borrow the paired terms "stillness" (ding) and "wisdom" (hui) to explain cultivation and realization separately. The concrete method likewise begins with non-delusion: not giving rise to deluded thoughts is "stillness," while eliminating a deluded thought the moment it appears is "wisdom."

Cultivation proceeds in stages. First one removes the coarse, obvious deluded thoughts, then the subtle ones, and finally even the attachment to "non-delusion" itself must be dropped, so that the mind reaches a state of naturalness and pure unity. Only then has one truly arrived. Therefore, the first task is to establish this genuine intention as the seed of our Heavenly Mind (the original, true mind). This is called directly cultivating the Upper Pass (a high-level threshold in Neidan, internal alchemy). As for such notions as forming the embryo, nourishing the embryo, and releasing the embryo, we need not pursue them for now. The ancient sages used these terms with profound intent, chiefly to make the steps of practice clear and to keep people from rushing ahead and skipping stages. In the end, the direction of practice is nothing more than removing deluded thoughts and preserving what is genuine.

Investigating the various oral instructions, we find that they all amount to using the removal of one deluded thought to remove ten thousand. Investigating the various methods, we find that they move from the shallow to the deep. One seeks the actual content behind each term, refining it ever further and passing from the subtle into the more subtle. Examined to the very end, all of it returns to "non-abiding" (wuzhu: the mind not clinging to or dwelling on any thought or state). And this key of non-abiding must be maintained from the beginning of practice to its end.

The true seed in cultivation takes "nature" (xing) as its substance and "life" (ming) as its function. One gathers and guards it, letting it merge into unity, then tempers it with Shen (spirit) and intention, and deepens the practice step by step, until it accords with the formless, traceless, inexpressible source, with no separation between the two. When one possesses such a Dao-body, its functioning will naturally manifest wondrous power. Yet how could all of this not begin with non-delusion and be carried through to the end by non-delusion?

Such was the profound care with which the ancient sages established these names and categories. Regrettably, later students have failed to grasp it and instead cling to deluded thoughts, breed all kinds of mistaken views, and lead themselves onto side paths. Only one who has understood this essential principle is fit to draw on the alchemical texts (danshu, the classical writings of Neidan) for confirmation; otherwise, it is better to leave those books on a high shelf.